Struggling uphill against the slope of the high heel, I looked up towards the shoe's opening.  My hands and feet found little purchase on the slick, soft and gray sole, emblazened with the designer's name in a light brown.  That color would make my naked, half-inch body hard to spot before my mom inserted her foot.

As I made my way higher, I gained a larger view of the room.  High above--seeminlgy miles away--I could see the hotel room's ceiling and light fixture.  Somewhere in the distance, I could hear the rumble of my mom's hair dryer in the bathroom, and I could smell the hot, steamy aroma of a recent shower and fruity, female bodywash. 

I sat down on the sole, closer to the top of the heel, to relax.  Breathing heavily--more from fear than physical exertion--I knew that I had to complete my task and get to the top before my mom was ready to leave for her conference meeting downtown.  Only near the top could she possibly spot me--and even then, I would have to dance and scream to get her attention. 

Picking myself up, I finished the uphill climb and rested against the back of the heel.  I had seen my mom wear this pair before, but thankfully not often.  The only odor was that of cloth sole and black leather. 

I briefly thought of the night before.  Getting a call from my mom, letting me know she was in town for a business conference.  Coming to this rather nice hotel earlier in the morning to visit her before my class at the university started later in the afteroon.  Bumping into a maid down the hall, almost knocking her over.  Asking her for the room's location.  Getting sprayed with a bottle by the maid after finding the correct room.  Unceremoniously tossed inside this shoe by the maid, after having shrunk in a matter of moments, while my mom was in the bathroom.

The maid probably took my clothing.  My only hope for rescue was for my mom to find me before she crushed me beneath her foot.

Before long, I heard the hair dryer stop, and bathroom door opened.  Giant tremors began to issue around the shoe, until finally the high heel itself began to shake.  I stood, steadying myself with one arm against the heel, and looked upward. 

After a moment, my giantess mom stepped into view.  Looming over me was a literal "Statue of Liberty"--a giant woman whose immense height dwafred me like a tiny bug.  I watched as my mom stood next to the shoe, still combing her shoulder-length, light-brown hair.  Then, I watched as she dusted off her dressy white top.  Beneath, she wore a knee-length black skirt and no hose.  I could barely see her cute face, button nose and evenly-applied make-up. 

I waited for her to look down.  Heart pounding, I couldn't help but notice that I had an erection.  I chalked it up to the blood pumping in my veins, but I knew the sight of a giantess dominating my view was also quite erotic--even if it was my mother.

Suddenly, my mom looked down, a happy, "excited about the day" smile on her face.  I began waving my hands and started to scream when a loud series of "beeps" issued from the nearby bed.  My mom turned and walked away, the giantess foot-falls knocking me off my feet.  Her cell phone!

Frustrated, I sat on the cool sole and heard my mom chatting with a co-worker she was to meet at the event.  Her voice boomed around the room due to my tiny ears, and her conversation, while meaningless in content, started to give me a bit of a headache.

My mom paced about the room, and for a moment, she came back into view from my small perspective.  I jumped up, watching her hold the phone against her cheek, and started waving my arms in hope she might look down again.  My heart lept in joy as I watched her bend down towards the shoe.

She continued to talk on the phone, and without looking at the shoe, she placed a finger inside.  Startled, I watched as the giant middle finger grasped the back of my shoe.  Her red nail polish accentuated her lightly-tanned skin.  I rushed foward to touch her finger in hopes of alerting her.  Instead, she quickly lifted the shoe.  The toe tipped downward, and before I could catch my breath, I tumbled back into the toe section, bumping against the inner leather with an uncomforable thud.

Without warning, the shoe was placed back on the ground, and I bounced upwards, hitting my head against the confines of the toe section, before resting again on the cool sole.  She must have brought her shoes closer to the bed--that meant she was about to wear them!

More alarming was the fact she was wrapping up her conversation.  Desperately, I crawled foward again, immersed in semi-darkness, and made my way toward the light of the high heel's opening. 

Making my way up the steep slope the high heel's sole once again, I crawled quickly and with my heart pounding.

After emerging from the toe section, I looked up and  beheld my giantess mother, sitting on the edge of the hotel bed and dangling her right foot as she crossed her legs.  Thankfully, I knew I was inside her left shoe, and might therefore have time to reach the top before she inserted her foot on top of me.

Looking upwards as I moved, I noticed she had also painted her toenails a bright red, and the underside of her foot was red and slightly swollen from her hot shower.  It contrasted with her lightly-tanned skin, and combined with her slight wrinkles, was admittedly enticing--but in no way did I wish for her foot to descend upon me!

My mom looked behind her and picked up her cell phone again, apparently dialing a number.  After a moment, she put the phone back behind her on the bed, and said to herself, "I guess he got his classes mixed up."  Her voice boomed inside the shoe, and I realized with a start that she had tried calling me!

If only she knew! I had almost reached the top when her right foot suddenly came towards me and was placed inside the other shoe.  Forgetting my desire to reach the top, I simply balanced myself where I was and stood, waving my hands and shouting.

"Mom! I'm inside your shoe! Mom! Look! Please look!"

No sooner had I shouted than a shadow loomed over my tiny, naked form, blocking out the light from the room.  I barely had time to duck as five gigantic toes, some the size of large trucks, were thrust over my body.  However, I couldn't evade her sole past her toes, and her skin, while no doubt soft to her touch, hit me like a thick punching bag and sent me flying backwards into the shoe's toe section.

I landed on my back inside the darkened portion of the shoe, and for a fraction of a second I blacked out from the impact. 

My sight returned as the dim light was totally snuffed out.  Suddenly, a huge weight was placed upon my chest.  My arms were pinned to my sides, and my legs were equally trapped.  My mom finished placing her foot inside the shoe, and I found myself buried under her left foot, with my face having thankfully been placed between two enormous toes.  Her skin practically sealed my face, but my nose and mouth found a tiny pocket of air no larger than a basketball.

Before I could comprehend what had happened, the weight on my body increased to an unimaginable amount.  All air in my lungs was crushsed out against her toes, and even the pocket of air there dissapeared as she stood on top of her son, sealing him inside a prison of skin and shoe sole like a man frozen in ice. 

Stars danced around my vision in the blackness as the bones in my torso popped and cracked.  My organs felt compacted together like Play Dough squished into a thimble.  I could barely imagine her foot filling up the shoe, her toes themselves compacted in the tiny toe section, her foot arched in the high heel and resting, along with her entire body weight, onto her helpless son, immersed and buried underneath. 

Almost immediately, my mom took a step, and as I rose with the shoe, the pocket of air between her two toes returned, and the weight abated just enough to allow my lungs to suck in whatever pathetic oxygen remained under her toes.  Before I could fill my lungs, her foot came crashing down, and I screamed silently as her skin smothered my face, again ripping the air from my body. 

Another step.  Another tiny breath, followed by the agony of her foot-fall.

This continued until she presumably reached the door to the room, as she stopped walking and simply crushed me continually.  Already, my body was getting numb, and amid claustrophobia and panic, I felt I might completely black out any moment.

I barely heard the muffled sound of the door closing as she walked once more, and for the first time in my life, I was glad my mother was walking on top of me as oppossed to standing in place!

I tried to time my breaths with her walking pace, knowing my only chance for survival, since I couldn't wiggle a even finger, was to breath as she raised her foot each step.  This produced little oxygen of any value, but I managed to keep myself conscious during the ordeal.

Several minutes passed, and I calculated we had gone down the elevator and were now crossing the hotel lobby towards the front doors.  Undoubtedly, she would take a cab to her next destination.  Somewhere along the way, I had to get her attention.

After emerging outside, I heard the muffled sounds of a city inside my high heel prison; cars honking, people yelling, slight vibrations rattling the shoe.  My mom stood once again, and I begged her to move.  She was waiting for a cab, I decided, and I struggled under her foot as I squished my eyes shut and tried to move, to wiggle--but all to no avail. I was cemented in place, her toes and sole smothering me.

My heart raced, and I felt a true fear of death for the first time as my mom patiently awaited a ride to her conference downtown. 

As if by design, my mom stepped into a cab right before I blacked out, and as she sat down with her feet on the cab's floorboard, just enough pressure was taken from my face to allow a deep breath from amid her toes.

For the first time, I paid attention to the smell of my mom's foot.  A combination of bodywash and warm skin filled my lungs.  The smell wasn't altogether bad, and I could feel my penis growing between her skin and mine. 

While enough weight was still placed on my body to keep me from doing more than opening my mouth, I was thankful for the momentary relief as the car rumbled down the street, the shocks of bumps and potholes jarring me, the shoe and my mom's foot.

After a few minutes, the air around my face grew hotter, and I knew that if my mom sat too long, I would use up all the oxygen inside her shoe.  In a bizarre twist of fate, I knew that I needed my mom to walk on me to keep me alive.  Standing or sitting with her feet flat on the floor would soon enough smother me.

In a desperate bid to get her attention, I tried biting her skin, but it was too thick.  I merely managed to taste it: hot, soft and heavy, with the bitter twang of body wash.

I knew yelling or screaming would go completely unheard to her, and I couldn't afford to waste energy or oxygen doing so.  Instead, I resigned myself to my current fate and remained trapped under my mom's foot, passive, relaxed, and at her unknown mercy as the oxygen slowly dwindled.

Suddenly, a bright light seared my eyes.  As my vision cleared, I noticed I was now lying on a thick carpeted surface.  Still naked and shrunken, I looked up and saw my mom, now wearing tiny shorts and a t-shirt, sitting cross-legged in front of me.  Looking directly at me, she smiled.

"Hi, honey," she said quietly.  "You slept for a long time."

I sat up, confused.  "Mom! Please!" I shouted.  "Help me!"

My mom uncrossed her left leg and raised her manicured foot over my body ominously.  "Not just yet, honey," she said.  Bewildered, I watched as she delicately lowered her big toe over my body, used it to press me back down on the carpet, and finally rested it on top of my body, allowing my face to remain free while my arms and legs were pinned underneath.

She increased the pressure, and looked over her toe and at my small face.  "Mommy's going to play with you for a while," she said amid a slight giggle.  "You're going to smell my feet.  You're going to kiss them.  You're going to paint my toenails and rub my feet after work."

Astonished, I couldn't respond.  My mom rubbed her toe back-and-forth on top of me, seeming to gain pleasure from it.  She continued talking.

"I'm looking foward to our time together, honey.  I'm going shoe shopping later--and guess what? You're going to try on every pair with me.  Imagine being your mommy's little slave for the next two weeks.  Before I'm done with you, you're going to inhale my foot's odor--drink my foot's sweat--and ejaculate on my skin every time I command it.  You're now mommy's toy.  Enjoy!"

With that, my mom stood on top of me and ground me into the carpet until I blacked out.

A sudden jerk awoke me.  The cab had stopped.  Before I could react inside the darkness, the pressure on my body increased as my mom began walking again.  I had passed out during the ride! As my mom walked down the hard concrete surface toward her conference, I realized the oxygen has grown so little that I had fallen asleep and dreamt the entire scenerio!

Frightened and sickened by what my mind had constructed as I had slept, I knew my day was just getting started as my mom, still unware of my presence inside her high heel, walked toward the building.

For the next several minutes, my mom walked around the building, only occasionally stopping to chat.  When speaking, I could feel the vibrations from her  voice traveling down to my entombed body, but could not make out any specific words.  Thankfully, such conversations were short and my mom didn't stand for too long in any one place.

As she went about whatever business needed attending, I had time to consider how absurd my situation had become.  I wondered what her reaction would be when she found me.  Would she cry, knowing she had subjected me to a day of pain and torture? While that thought was unfortunate, I had to be found--no matter how much it would pain her.

I also wondered what condition my body would be in.  Already, my feet and hands had lost all feeling.  My arms and legs were still painfully compressed, as was my chest.  My face was hot, and I couldn't help but to drool saliva over her skin and mine. 

Finally, I considered the odor. So far, my mom's foot hadn't started to stink.  Surely, though, that would change after several hours.  Having been shrunk to such a tiny size, I wondered how long it would take before I absorbed her foot's odor like a sponge.  Even if I was restored to normal--how long would I smell like my mom's foot?

That brought me to another shocking realization.  The only way I could be changed--based on the morning's events--would be to find the maid who had sprayed me.  But, what if she had already left work? Or denied the entire event? I wasn't even sure I remembered what she had looked like, given I had accidentally bumped into her and simply asked for my mom's room location.  What if the maid was never found--was I doomed to be a half-inch tall forever?

That thought sent chills down my body, which was now getting hot and feeling sticky.  I continued to breathe as best I could while my mom walked, and I waited for whatever torment was coming next. 

Finally, my mom stopped walking.

I felt the constant pressure lessen dramatically as she sat down.  She even went so far as to apparently cross her left leg--and me with it--over her right.  The result was that my mom was now casually swinging her left foot back and forth.

The shoe was still tightly bound around her foot, as her foot was likely swollen from the walking.  However, the lessened pressure allowed me to breathe easier, and my lungs could now inhale fully, despite my body still being trapped in place.  More oxygen was making its way around her sole, and though I was tipped downwards and gently dipped up-and-down with her movements, I was happy for the break.

The situation also alloted more sound into the shoe.  In the distance, I could hear a female voice speaking from a microphone, and at times people around my mom would laugh or clap, giving the impression of some sort of presentation that my mom was watching.  She too laughed from time to time, shaking my body with her foot. 

As I rocked up and down, a new predicament surfaced.  Due to the sweat accumulating on my back, I was stuck to the cloth sole, and so, ever so slightly, my mom's skin was rubbing my penis back and forth.  Though unable to move any part of my body, the pressure had let off just enough to create a friction between her hot sole and my now erect penis.

To make matters worse, her own foot had started to lightly perspire--an amount so trivial she likely would not have noticed it, even with her shoe off.  But, from my tiny vantage point, the miniscule sheen of sweat on her sole was becoming more and more evident, and was acting like a lubricant for the inadvertant "foot job" she was giving me.

I closed my eyes tightly and tried to think of other, less sexual situations.  School work.  Bills.  Job ads.  But, nothing worked.  No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't fight the pleasure I felt from having my mom rub her foot on my penis.  Both humiliated and disgusted, I was pinned under her foot and had no choice but to endure the continuing pleasure. 

The last thing I wanted was to ejaculate on her skin.  I couldn't imagine a more awkward problem.  How would she feel about it? Would it disgust her too? However, such a result might get her attention--certainly, a sudden "spray" of liquid in her shoe would be enough to get her attention.

And so, I remained divided--all the while, I knew I was on the verge of bursting, no matter my final choice. 

My mom's foot grew hotter, and her light perspiration was beginning to coat my entire body, save for the areas touching her shoe's sole.  Even more, a light, salty taste began to form inside my mouth, and I realized that I was tasting some of her sweat.  I couldn't close my mouth, for risk of suffocating in the increasingly stuffy atmosphere, and so I allowed it to run past my lips, and did my best to swallow very little of it.

I made my decision.

The torture was too much.  I decided to let my inhibitions go and ejaculate on her foot.  I relaxed and prepared for the humiliation, but my mom suddenly lowered her foot to the ground and ceased rubbing my penis, once again entombing me inside her skin.

The quick change didn't give me time to prepare myself, and my breath was painfully squeezed out through my nose and mouth just as her toes sealed my face in hot skin.  The pressure was once again painful, and before I could adjust mentally to the new development, the pressure doubled--she must have crossed her right leg over her left!

Stricken by panic, I struggled violently against the weight compressed on top of my chest, face and limbs.  My mind raced and I tried to scream for my mom's mercy, but no sound escaped the toes that acted like masking tape over the mouth of a hostage.  Unable to inhale--unable to move--and suffering from the intense pain of two legs balanced on my little body, I began to black out once again, without the expectation of waking up. 

As before, bright light suddenly blinded me.  As my blurry vision cleared and the world around me came into focus, I realized I was still inside my mother's shoe.  Except now, her foot had been removed.  As I peeled myself from the sticky, wet sole, I slowly climbed up the heel and looked up, only to discover that my mother was still sitting down, but now in a much quieter room.  High above, I could see the underside of my former prison--her left foot--and my mom was rubbing her swollen foot with her hands.

"Oh..." she moaned quietly.  "Those shoes are terrible."  Slowly, she pressed her fingers into her brown, flushed sole, and I realized I had yet again fallen into some sort of dream-state.  Thankfully, that meant I was still alive!

Realizing that getting her attention would be pointless--this was a dream, after all--I decided to lazily climb up the slope of the heel and wait for myself to awaken.  Sitting down on the moist cloth sole, I watched as my mom seductively worked her foot.  After a few moments, she seemed finished.  Having crawled to the middle of her high heel, directly underneath her foot's arch, I decided for a change of pace until my dream ended and laid down on the fabric with my head pointed toward the toe section. 

As I predicted, my mom smiled with a look of satisfaction and lowered her foot back into the shoe.  As her toes and upper sole skimmed right over my little body, I prepared to awaken once more.  My mom lowered her foot totally into place, sealing me inside her sole with no possible pocket of air as she stood on top of me.

I didn't awaken.  Once the dagger-like pain erupted throughout my body, threatening to burst my skull into little pieces--a disgusting feeling washed through my veins and I understood I had actually been awake! Moreover, I had placed myself in the most dangerous position, with no possible way of getting oxygen! My mom walked, crushing me with each step and killing me bit by bit.  Foolishly, I had contribued to my own demise.

Each of my mom's steps hammered my body with brutal, unrelenting pain.  Her middle foot was not soft like her upper sole and toes, and no air pockets were available.  I counted each step, realizing that after thirty or more, I should most likely be dead from oxygen deprevation or crushed body.

Twenty steps...twenty five...I began the now routine process of blacking out. 

My mom stopped.  For a moment, she simply stood on top of me.  Then, as if she had read my tiny mind, the pressure was taken off from my body as she removed her foot from her shoe.

Judging by the sounds of water and flushing, I was now in a restroom.  As she removed her foot, I found myself stuck to her sole, glued to her skin like a human-shaped band-aid.  The world swirled around me as she crossed her left leg over her right, and then twisted her foot upwards. 

For a moment, time stopped.  I breathed in the smell of her hot skin.  With my face pressed against her sole, I was unable to look upwards.  Did she see me? Had I been saved? Or, was this merely another dream?

"What..." she said quietly, but with concern.  Immediately, I felt her fingers gently wrap around my abused body, and with the care only a mother could provide, she peeled me from her foot and placed me in the palm of her hand, now held before her face.

I looked up into the giantess face of my mother.  Her cute button-nose wrinkled as her eyes grew wide.

"Oh, my god..." she said, quickly looking around the stall to be sure no one could hear her.  I sat on the deeply soft folds of her palm, placing my hand inside a large wrinkle for balance, and felt the heat of her skin on my naked butt.  Instantly humiliated, I covered my private area with my other hand.

"Honey...is that you?" she asked, her warm breath washing over my wet body.  She pushed some loose strands of hair behind her ear, and her mouth hung open in shock.

My heart raced--both in immense joy, and in incredible guilt, though the situation wasn't really my fault.  But, thankfully, I had been found.  Assuming I didn't wake up in the next few seconds, the torture under my mother's foot was finally over!

"Honey, what happened?" my mom asked, careful to keep her voice quiet.  Either she didn't want others to hear her talking to herself in the bathroom stall, or she realized loud noises were painful for my shrunken form.

"The maid shrunk me," I said. 

A look of confusion washed over her face.  She leaned closer to her hand. 

"What?" she asked.  "I can't hear you."

I stood up, and yelled, "At the hotel! The maid shrunk me!"

This time she heard me, though she still seemed confused, and asked "Why? When did this happen?"

I replied. "This morning! While you were in the shower!"

A look of understanding replaced her confusion.  "Oh my god...honey, you...were in my shoe the whole day? I..walked on you all day?" Fear and guilt were now evident on her cute, slightly-tanned face.  "Oh, no..." she murmured, looking away from me.

I felt terrible.  She was indeed feeling guilty, and that was the last thing I wanted to happen.

"Mom!" I shouted.  "It's okay! It's okay now! Just take me back to the hotel!"

She looked at me again.  "Was it painful? Did I hurt you?"

I looked down, but lied and said "No! It wasn't painful!"

She noticed my face and instantly knew I wasn't telling the truth.  "I'm so sorry," she replied.  "I know it must have been very terrible, especially with my high heels on.  If only I knew! I felt something under my foot after I rubbed them a few minutes ago.  I'm sorry I didn't notice earlier."

We both remained quiet.  My body ached with dull pain and numbness.  I could already smell myself--the smell of female feet--and was simply glad to have been found and rescued.  Our next step would be to find the maid and reverse my condition.

"Mom!" She looked back at me.  "Take me to the hotel! We have to find the maid!"

She didn't answer for a moment.  Didn't she hear me?

"Honey," she said.  Something was wrong.  "Honey...I can't."

What? Now I was the one confused.

She continued.  "I have a meeting with the vice president of marketing in less than 10 minutes.  It's a deal that wraps up the last six months of work for me.  It's the reason I came to the conference today!"

"You have to reschedule!" I shouted.  "Please!"

She seemed sad now.  "Honey...I can't! If I don't meet with her, the whole deal will be lost.  I have to take you with me! After the meeting, we can go back to the hotel."

"Okay! Put me in your purse until then!"

Looking away, she said "I don't have it.  I left it in an office downstairs.  We're on the eighth floor of this conference building.  If I go back to get it, I'll be late for my meeting."

"But you can't leave me here!" I yelled.  "What if someone finds me! What about your pockets!"

"I don't have any," she answered.  "By the way," she said, looking at me again, "where were you earlier today?  Under my toes?"

Why was she changing the subject? What did it matter?

"My face was! But my body was under your sole! It was the only way I could breath!"

"Oh, okay," she murmured.  "Honey...I don't know how to say this.  I have to put you back inside my shoe."

I couldn't speak.  Back inside her shoe? What was she talking about?!

She continued.  "Like you said, I can't leave you here.  And I don't have time to get my purse.  Without pockets...the only way I can keep you hidden is to put you inside my shoe.  After all, it seemed like you...could survive under my toes.  So, how about that? Maybe your whole body, so you don't get crushed by my sole?"

My heart sank.  My own mom was suggesting that she put me under her foot? Her toes? Surely I was dreaming!

"Mom, no! Not again! Please!" This time, I had to tell her the truth.  "Your feet are beginning to sweat and stink! Please, not again!"

"I know, honey, I know.  I wish there was another way.  If I don't put you under my foot, you might slip out as I walk, or someone might see you.  I'm very sorry about this.  Please understand!"

She reached for my body with her other hand.  I stood up, and tried to push her fingers away, but she was too strong.  Grasping me carefully, she lowered me down towards the floor and her high heel.  Right then, I heard the bathroom door open, and someone walked past the stall.

Desperate, I started yelling for help.  I loved my mother, but I couldn't take any more punishment under her foot!

My mom quickly placed a warm, supple finger over my mouth, and put me back into the toe section of her high heel.  Removing her finger, I could smell the warm, hot odor of her foot.  Pushing me back as far as she could, she removed her hand and before I could react, gently but quickly inserted her foot.  Placing her toes over my body, she slowly scrunched them back and forth until she had positioned my entire body under them--now, my face rested between her big toe and the next, while my feet stretched out between the next set of toes.

She stood.  While the pressure was again painful, the flexibility of her toes as she walked at least diminished the amount of pain.  I could tell by her slow walking pattern she was trying very hard to keep me safe.  Even so, each step crushed the air out of my body, and I had to inhale deeply as she raised her foot. 

My mom had knowingly placed her naked, shrunken son under her smelly toes and began walking on him.

My mom flexed her toes  around my body, alternately squishing me into her hot, smelly sole and back again.  I could tell she was nervous as her voice sent vibrations down into my high heel prison.  No doubt the vice president of marketing was asking some tough questions.  At least my mom had crossed her leg again to lessen the pressure on her son's body, but she seemed to occassionally forget that she had placed me under her rather active toes.

And so I remained trapped.  Subject to my mom's actions--my fate determined by things as simple as the amount of sweat on her foot.  I could feel the blood under her skin pulsing as her heart raced with adrenaline.  Her foot became more swollen inside the tight shoe, and I found the air getting thick with odor and humidity but thin on usable oxygen.  I begged silently for a quick end to this meeting.

Time dragged on.  I couldn't hear the woman to whom my mom spoke, but she seemed to have a lot of questions, given how often my mom replied.  I tried to re-position myself under her toes, but such actions were beyond my ability.  My mother owned me--literally.  I had no choice but to endure whatever she deemed neccessary.

Finally, the meeting must have concluded, as my mom stood and began gingerly walking on me.  After a short stroll, she removed her foot from the high heel and peeled me from underneath her toes.  We were in a small office now.

Balancing me in her palm, she smiled.  "I'm so sorry about that, honey.  But, the meeting's over.  It went great! Thank you so much for your patience under there."

I simply sat down on her palm, hiding my erection.  It seemed beyond my control now.

She must have noticed.  "You're...excited, aren't you?" She had a quizzical look on her face.  "I didn't think you were getting pleasure from this."

I didn't want her to get that impression.  The situation was embarassing enough as it was!

"No, mommy!" I shouted.  Why did I call her that? "It's not like that!"

My mom smiled again.  "It's okay, honey.  I know it's been a long, strange day.  I don't blame you for that."

An awkward silence ensued. 

"You know," she said slowly, "I could...help you.  I mean...do you want me to...do something with it?"

Was she crazy! Of course I didn't want my mother touching my penis!

"No!" I yelled.  "It's not voluntary.  I think it's the feel of your skin!" Wrong answer.

"Well," she replied, "if I rub it, you know...to finish it...will that help? You almost look like it's painful."

The only pain was this conversation! "Just leave me alone!" I answered.  I felt bad about saying that, but her suggestions were making me further aroused--and I didn't want her to notice.

"I'm just trying to help, honey.  Believe me, I know some things about...private parts like that."

As if to prove her point, my mom lowered her other hand.  Before I could react, she used her middle finger to pin both arms above my head against her palm, and her thumb to straighten out my legs and pin them to her palm as well.  Practically spread-eagle, my bulging hard-on was now uncovered and plain for her to see.  I struggled against her fingers, gasping for air.

"Honey, don't struggle.  Let me do this...just pretend I'm a cute girl from class."

I couldn't speak.  What was my mom going to do? 

She then lowered her face and lightly licked her free index finger.  Raising back up, she then gently placed the moistened index finger on my throbbing member.  Her hot, soft, heavy skin instantly shot chills through my body.

"Just relax, honey," she said, and she began to lightly rub her finger up and down my penis.  I couldn't believe it.  My mother was giving me...a finger job?

"P-please" I stammared, but I could barely speak.  The waves of pleasure washing over my body made speech practically impossible.  I stopped denying the truth and admitted to myself that her finger was absolutely intoxicating, providing pleasure that was almost limitless.  I began to hump against her finger, and at that sign, she pressed deeper onto my penis, burying it in her soft skin, and stroked faster.  I humped faster to match her, and we began a rythym that synchronized perfectly.

Forgetting she was my mother--that she had pinned me against her palm, against my wishes--that her saliva was the lubricant on her finger--that I was at her mercy--I let myself go and exploded on her finger like never before.  Feeling that, she rubbed faster, working out every little bit of juice in my penis until nothing was left.  I continued humping until I became exhausted, and as I relaxed, she slowed her finger, until finally she removed it.  A sticky string of cum remained on her skin, and as she released my arms and legs, she grabbed a tissue from the nearby desk and wiped off her finger as I lay on her palm, breathing a sigh of relief and completely content.

Smiling, she looked down on me.  "So, that wasn't bad, was it?"

She was right.  "T-thank you," was all I could manage. 

After cleaning her finger, my mom used the tissue to wipe the remaining cum from my tiny body.  Exhausted from the "finger job," I simply sat on her palm, allowing her to do something that would have seemed disgusting just a few hours ago.

Perhaps my time under her increasingly smelly feet had done something to my mind, but I couldn't deny that she had given me incredible pleasure using her digit. 

Finishing, she smiled.  "Looks like we're free to leave, honey.   I just need to grab my purse downstairs.  On the way, I'll keep you wrapped up in my hand so no one notices."

Much better than being under her foot! I didn't respond, and simply nodded as she stood and gently clasped her fingers around my body, casually dangling her hand to her side and using just enough pressure to keep me secure without crushing me.  Then, we began to walk, and as I swayed along in the relative darkness with her hand and arm, I thanked her silently for the respite from the high heel.

After a stroll down a hall, we entered an elevator, two or three people riding down alongside us but unable to notice the little, shrunken boy inside his mom's fingers.

After the elevator doors opened, we began walking again, and my mom gently raised her hand to her mouth and whispered.  "My purse is just ahead, honey.  Almost there!"

I smiled, excited at the prospect of getting back to the hotel and asking the maid for the antidote.

No sooner had that thought crossed my mind than my mom suddenly stopped walking.  Dropping her hand to her side, I heard her greet someone who apparently knew her.  While the other woman's voice was difficult to understand, I heard my mom responding each time:

"Sure...now?"

"Well, I thought the figures added up."

"The buyers aren't convinced? I was about to leave, but..."

"Okay, your office? This way? Just let me grab my purse."

"No time? But I really need...they're on the phone now?"

After that exchange, my mom's grip increased slightly, and we started walking again.  She seemed nervous, because now her soft palm and fingers began to perspire lightly.  Before long, I heard a door shut, and I presumed my mom and I were in an office with the lady she had met in the hall.  Sitting down, I wondered how my mom was going to work with this lady while keeping one hand shut around her son?

"Sure, I can wait," I heard her say.

Opening her grip slightly, I heard the other lady talking on the office phone.  Now that light was shining inside my mom's hand and her fingers spread, I could see the environment around me...and I noticed that I was suddenly descending!

Before I could react, my mother subtly shifted me to her index finger and thumb.  I glimpsed the other woman talking on phone, facing the other direction.  Looking down, I watched, horrified, as my mom arched her left foot inside her high heel and unceremoniously dumped me underneath her red sole!

As I landed on the soft, wet shoe fabric, I heard my mom say "Hello, Jackie" as she seemingly answered the phone.  I rolled down the decline and rested against her skin, just as she lowered her foot on top of my body and sealed me back under her foot!

Resting her foot on my shrunken form, I was trapped again, now facing the fabric with my mom's foot resting on my back.  My arms and legs were splayed out to my sides, frozen under her foot.  While the weight was enormous, I could feel her straining slightly as she maintained a slight arch in her foot, allowing a tiny bit of oxygen into my lungs.  At least she was trying to keep me alive while hiding me from the other woman!

As she kept talking, vibrations from her voice shook me, and as her warm blood pumped inside her skin, the now too-famaliar smell of female feet began to drift inside my miniscule lungs.  I hoped for a brief conversation.

Unfortunately, the conversation seemed to progressively get worse.

My mom was obviously defending some action of hers against the individual on the phone, and at times she seemed to forget I was under her foot, as sudden, unexpected bursts of weight would flatten me out even further, followed by periods were she seemed guilty of that and would arch her foot to release the pressure on her son.

After a seeming eternity, the conversation ended, and my mom stood, cracking the bones inside my body.  I screamed in pain, but the fabric smothering my mouth and nose muffled every last decibal.  All I could do was endure my mom's steps, each one crashing down on top of me like a wrecking ball.  Having her stand on my back was even more painful than having her foot rest on my chest, and I wondered how much further she would go before releasing me from this new torture.

Before long, she removed her foot, and peeled my from her sole.  Again, we were alone in an office, and as she placed me on her palm, I inhaled the cool, fresh oxygen deeply.  Bringing me near her face, I saw tears were in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry, honey!" she boomed, forgetting my tiny ears were sensitive to such noises.  "I didn't expect her to ask me for more information!"

I watched as she opened a drawer near her and removed her black leather purse. 

Placing it on her lap, she snapped open the buttons and smiled sadly.

"I know placing you inside this purse is degrading, but I can't risk anyone finding you...and I don't want to hurt you under my foot again!"

I felt terrible! Not knowing what I could do to comfort her, I blurted out something that I thought might console her.  "It's okay!" I yelled.  "I liked the way your feet smelled! So, it wasn't all bad!"

That, of course, was completely untrue, but I hoped it would at least lessen her guilt.  She did seem to perk up after I said that.

"Really? I don't see how, honey, because they feel very hot and sticky.  You're just saying that, aren't you?" she asked, smiling sadly again.

Not liking the hole I was digging for myself, but figuring it could do no real harm, I confirmed it for her.  "Really! They smell like your bodywash! Fruity!"

She giggled, feeling better now, and her palm shook.  "You're such a nice boy, honey.  Thank you for that."

Feeling like I had accomplished my task of lessening her guilt, I pressed my luck and blurted out more lies: "I could even smell them again! If you have time, I mean!"

I couldn't believe what I was saying! Instantly regretting that statement, I stopped talking before more nonsense left my mouth.  Her odor really had affected my mind!

A quizzical look washed over her face.  "Really? You want to...smell them? I would hate to torture you more, honey."

I looked down, afraid to say more, and realized that I had once again managed an erection! Shocked by what I now saw, I looked up, and my mom noticed it as well.

"Wow, honey...I guess you are telling the truth!" She giggled some more.  "Well, before we leave, would you like to...smell them? It seems a bit gross, but knowing you liked the smell...well, it makes me feel less bad!"

I couldn't back out now! If I told the truth, she would be doubly hurt by my lies!

"Y-yes," I murmured.

"What?" she asked.

"Yes!" I shouted.  "Let me...smell them again! Before we leave! Thank you mom!"

I felt sick.  How had this happened?!

"Okay, well," she said, crossing her left leg over her right and setting the purse aside, "how's this?"

Pinching me gently, she lowered me down toward her left foot, allowing her high heel to drop off to the floor.  I watched as the shoe bounched onto its side, and my body froze as she lowered me towards her red-flushed foot.  As I got closer, I could feel the heat emanating from it like a furnace, the smell already overpowering.  But, there was no backing out now, for my mom's sake!

Pressing my chest lightly against her sole, I could see her watching from the corner of my eye.  I had to be convincing, or her day would be ruined even further! Bracing myself, I placed my face against the moist skin and inhaled deeply, purposefully allowing the stink and humid odor to wash down my nostrils and into my lungs.  I could taste foot odor, fabric and traces of body wash on my tongue.

Breathing out, I coughed quietly, and I again pressed my face against her skin and inhaled deeply.  I couldn't believe I was willingly inhaling the odor from my mom's stinky foot!

"Wow, honey," she said, "I guess you were telling the truth! You know, traffic will be really bad right now.  We can spend some more time here and wait for it to thin out before we leave.  That will give you more time to smell my feet."

Her...feet! Both of them? What had I gotten myself into?!

"I mean...would you like that? Or, should we just leave now?" She pulled me away from her skin.  What should I say? That I desperately wanted to leave, because her foot's odor was overpowering? Or, that I wanted to smell it more--knowing that doing that would make her feel less guilty?

"I...I can smell some more, mommy," I answered.  What had I done? Why did I call her that?

"What, honey?" she asked, leaning over.

"I want to smell your feet!" I shouted.  "I want to kiss and smell your feet!"

Kiss?! Maybe I really was enjoying this--or simply enjoying the dominance of my mother on her little son!

"Um, okay," she said, probably taken aback by my desire to kiss her feet.  "I'm going to call a cab, but in the meantime, you can...kiss and smell my feet."  She seemed nervous, understandably.  Placing her left foot on the carpeted floor, she slowly brought me to the floor as well and deposited me in front of her beautiful toes.

She then removed her right foot from the other hight heel and placed it on the floor as well.

Standing, I was dwarfed by her giant toes and red toenails.  Her big toe easily reached higher than I could even jump, and already the heat from it blasted me.  I looked up, the mountain of a woman dominating my view.  Slowly, surely, I walked up to her big toe, pressed my face against her skin, and inhaled deeply, then began kissing her thick, hot, sticky skin.  I had to be convincing, and so, as she called the cab company to arrange for our ride back to the hotel, I kissed each toe on each foot, smelling them, licking them, and swallowing the sweat of my mom's foot over and over again, hoping to make her happy and convince her I enjoyed this new torture.

After I kissed the pinky toe on mom's right foot, I sat down on the carpeted surface.  The saliva in my mouth had long since dissapeared, deposited on my mom's toes and now replaced in my mouth by her sweat.  It coated the inside of my mouth and throat, and try as I might, I couldn't swallow it or spit it out, and so I simply sat with my mouth open, inhaling air completely tinged with the hot odor of her skin and sweat. 

"The cab should be here soon, honey," she said, leaning over me and casting a shadow over my shrunken body.  "You seem so tired...but you said you wanted this.  Thank you...for being honest!"  She smiled compassionately.

In truth, I was more tired than ever in my life.  Battered inside and out from her weight, soaked inside and out with her foot's sweat, light-headed from inhalation of hot, humid foot-odor, and disgusted by my actions, all I could do was sit and stare at my erection, which still gave away some inner desire that I clearly wasn't admitting to myself.

I looked at at my cute mom, her  button-nose wrinkling and short hair falling over her face.

"Looks like you recovered quickly, honey," she said quietly, and pointed a finger at my manhood.  I didn't answer, but forced a smile.

"Do I need...do you want...you know, to ejaculate again?" she asked me.

I looked up in shock.  I couldn't believe my own mother was even suggesting that! Though, given the day's events, it wouldn't be the strangest thing to happen to me.  I simply shook my head "no."

"But, it's so big...again," she insisted.  Before I could answer, she checked the time on her watch, and then looked back at me.  "You've had a long day.  Let me at least make it up to you!"

Suddenly, she pushed me back onto the carpet, and like before, splayed me helplessly by putting her index finger over my arms and her thumb over my lower legs, straightening me out completely and leaving my erection pointing like an arrow.

"M-mom!" I shouted.  I started to yell "not again," but I was too shocked by what she did next.

Delicately raising her left foot and weaving it past the inside of her hand that held me down, she slowly dipped her foot downwards and pointed her big toe directly at my penis.  My heart leaped into my throat.  What was she doing?!

Then, ever so gently, she placed the bulk of her big toe directly on my crotch, testing to see how much weight would be too much.  As the massive mass began to cover my upper legs, crotch and lower body, my penis became buried in the rubbery, sticky and amazingly hot skin.  Wrinkles formed in her skin as she rested the toe on top of me.

The feeling was too much.  I couldn't help but moan loudly. 

"Aaaaahhhh...." I said, caring little how silly it sounded.  "Oh my god," I said again, unable to hide the pleasure.  Past my mom's hand, I could see she was smiling.

"So, it still feels, good, huh?" she asked.  "Let me know if I put too much on you, honey."  Having said that, she increased the pressure on my penis and testicles.  Electric shocks of pleasure washed over my smelly body.

"Oh god!" I shouted.  "M-mommy!" I felt disgusted, and at the same time, in ectasy.

Still the pressure increased.  Suddenly, it was too much, and sharp pain ripped through my testicles.  I hunched over a bit, and cried out. 

"Sorry! Sorry!" my mom said, and lessened the pressure through her toe.  I relaxed.  "Looks like this is the right amount."  She giggled.

Then, knowing full well how to pleasure me, my mom began to rub her giantess toe back and forth over my penis, the bulk never leaving my body.  The skin on my legs and belly felt stretched uncomfortably by the weight, but I didn't care--the only object in my world was the smelly, hot, and unbearably perfect toe now centered on my excited penis.  Keeping a firm grib on my arms and lower legs with her finger and thumb, my mom simply smiled and began to quicken the pace, and my body lurched as much as possible to match her pace as I humped her toe repeatedly.

As she and I worked, she talked to me quietly.  "I have to tell you something, honey," she began, my only answer the occasional moan of pleasure.  "I'm...I am enjoying this.  I liked putting my finger on you earlier...and I liked knowing you enjoyed smelling my feet."

Shock, horror and pleasure all filled my mind.

She continued.  "I know it's wrong.  I'm very sorry I stepped on you so much today.  But, I have to be honest.  I enjoy taking care of you like this.  Having you under my feet...so attracted to them...it..."

It what? Where was she going with this?

My mom sighed.  "Honey...it makes me excited.  I don't know how else to put it.  I hope I'm not disgusting you!"

I tried to answer, but she unconsciously placed more weight on my body, and new waves of euphoria chilled me to the bone.  I could only listen, frightened and excited.

"Maybe...maybe when this is over...I don't know, but maybe you can...rub my feet? Or kiss them?"  Suddenly, she stopped what she was doing and took her sticky toe off my penis, nearly pulling my penis off in the process.

"No!" she said.  "That was wrong.  I'm so sorry I said that!" Before she released me with her hand, I shouted back. 

"Mom! Don't stop! I do enjoy it! I love it! Please, put your toe on me and finish! I'm begging you!"

Sickened by my outburst, I nonetheless felt happy as she smiled and put her toe back on my penis.  Slowly, she began again, rubbing it back and forth.

"You do? Maybe...maybe it's okay then!" Seemingly happier now, she rubbed faster, with renewed vigor, and before long, I ejaculated on her toe, again and again, wanting to cover every tiny wrinkle and pore on her foot with my cum.  She pressed my penis, squeezing it all out, and finally, after I stopped moving, removed her toe, cum and all.

Releasing my arms and legs, she sat up, reached into her purse, and removed a tissue.  Then, as I watched amazed, she rubbed the ejaculate off her toe.

She then did the same for me, and having finished, simply looked at me.  At that moment, her cell phone rang--the cab!

"Let's...talk about it later, honey.  First, we have to get you to that hotel and back to normal again!" Hearing that made my heart soar.  For a moment, I loved my mom more than ever.

Lifting me up, my mom placed me over her black leather purse.

"I guess you would be safe inside the coin pocket," she told me, using her other hand to empty the dimes and nickels. 

My mind raced.  My mom had pleasured my penis...twice! A finger job, a toe job.  Despite the outward, disgusting nature of it, I could not deny how wonderful it had felt.  Knowing that my mother--the woman who, by nature, was supposed to take care of me--had done these things to me, made it even more arousing.  I felt perverted and sickened.

"Ready, honey?" she asked, lowering me into the pocket.

"No!" I shouted.  She stopped.

"Your shoe!" I yelled again.  What was I doing?

"I don't understand," she replied.

"Your shoe!" I repeated.  "Put me back inside.  Walk on me! Step on me! Wear me back to the hotel!"

I had gone insane!

"Honey, no!" she said forcefully.  "Now, enough is enough! Maybe I was wrong to do those things to you just now.  But I will not, under any circumstances, put you back under my foot! I could kill you!"

I wouldn't give up.   "You won't! You walked on me all day! I...I'm attracted to your feet! I know it's wrong! But I want your weight on my body! I want the feeling of your skin covering my mouth!  I want the hot air around your toes and sole!"

My mom raised me from the purse and her face turned slightly angry.  "Now look, honey," she said as her voice grew louder, "you have got to stop this.  You shouldn't be under your own mother's foot! I know you are attracted to it.  But what I did today was wrong! It was dangerous! I would never have done it if I knew you were inside my shoe!"

I refused to relent.  More than ever, I craved the odor, the pressure, and the pain! I was truly screwed up!

"Mom, please! In a few hours, I'll be back to normal.  If you are truly sorry about today, you'll grant me this last pleasure! Wear me back to the hotel, and don't walk on me softly! Pretend you forgot I am in your shoe!"

I didn't want to play on her guilt, but it seemed to be working.  Sighing, perhaps angry with herself, she gave in.  "Okay...okay.  But, this is the last time.  If at any point I feel you are hurting or in danger, I'm taking you out!"

She then leaned over and lightly placed me back on the sole of the left heel. 

"Where do you want to be...put?" she asked.

"Under your toes!" I shouted back.  "Make me smell your toes again!"

Raising her foot towards the shoe, concern on her face, she shook her head.

"Are you sure about this, honey? Once you're in there, I won't know if you change your mind!"

I was sure.  More sure about it than anything else in my life!

"Yes!" I answered.  I then scooted down to the toe section and placed myself in the grooves worn into the fabric by her toes.  Then, with excitement and fear, I watched as the light in the shoe dimmed, then dissapeared as her foot entered.  Moments later, her hot, heavy toes rolled over my body, and settled into place, sealing me inside her skin.  Carefully, she stood, cracking my bones again. She began walking, and I lovingly inhaled the smelly air, begging my mom for more of this wonderful torture. 

With each step, her thunderous foot-falls rattled me to the core.  The blood pumped furiously through her sole and toes, and the fabric under my back, now soaked in her foot's sweat, barely cushioned me with each crashing step. 

I felt her walk through the building, outside onto the hard concrete, and finally sit down inside the waiting cab. 

The cab rattled and roared down the streets, shaking my mom's foot, shoe, and tiny son.  When she sat like this, I breathed easier, and yet, the odor under her shoe was only growing thicker and hotter.

In fact, as I gasped for more air, a slight twinge of regret began to form inside my mind.  Moments ago, after the "toe job," I had felt infatuated with her feet--but now, with the pleasure having abated, I found that being crushed under my mom's smelly sole wasn't exactly as wonderful as I thought.  Perhaps I had  been a bit hasty in my request for more punishment!

As we drove, my mom scrunched her toes over my body, again and again.  She might have assumed that I enjoyed that constant squeezing, given how I had begged for more of her foot...but in truth, each squeeze of her toes around my body smashed the air out of my lungs.  At times, I would get a decent lungful only to have it immediately smushed out by her toes.  I silently wished for her to stop--but she seemed to enjoy it!

Finally, I decided I had made an idiotic decision.  Barely able to maintain consciousness, I had once again put myself in a very dangerous position.

The cab stopped.  As my mom exited and began walking on me, crashing down on my frail body with each movement, I could only hope the maid was still on duty and willing to fix my condition.  Moments later, the famaliar rumble of the elevator was followed by blinding light as she removed her foot from her shoe and peeled me from her toes.

Sitting on the edge of her hotel bed, my mom balanced me in her soft palm, smiling.

"Well, I hope you enjoyed it.  I tried to play with you on the way.  I figured you would like that!" she said.

"It was...great!" I answered, partially lying.

"So, what did this maid look like, honey?" she asked.

I  tried to recall.  The whole incident had been fast and confusing.  "Short, maybe Hispanic."

"And you said it happened while I was showering?"

"Yes!"

"Well," she said, "I'll ask the front desk if a woman fitting that description is still on duty.  Then, I'll have to find her in private.  If she's confronted by her boss, she might not help us."

My mom stood and placed me on the soft sheets of the bed.  "I'm going to leave you here, in case she tries to hurt you more, honey."

I watched as my mom slipped her high heel back on.  Smiling, she turned for the door and exited the room.  My salvation was close at hand!

Exhausted from the day's events, I laid down on the gigantic sheets of the mountainous bed.  The fabric was cool and inviting, and my naked body, sticky and smelly with the odor of my mom's sole, felt bruised and battared.

Relaxing, I felt my mind drift, and I closed my eyes, hoping for a quick resolution to my predicament.

Suddenly, I was awakened by my mother.  Grasping me firmly with her fingers, I opened my eyes and watched as she lowered me toward her sole!

"Mom! Wait! What are you doing?!" I yelled.

Pusing me face-first against her soft skin in the middle of her foot, I felt her place tiny strips of a shredded band-aid across my legs, back, arms and head.  Now she removed her hand, and I remained glued in place, the side of my face stuck against her skin.

"M-mom!" I murmured, barely able to speak for the hot skin around my mouth.

"Honey, I have some exciting news!" she said loudly, though I couldn't see her from my position.  "I've decided I like you this size.  I'm going to have a casual dinner tonight in my sandals.  A lot of cute girls will walk past us, and every time I see one, I'm going to lower my foot and give you a little crush to let you know how close you are to them--but stuck, instead, to your mommy's sole!"

No! 

"After that, I'm going to buy three pairs of wool socks and wear them over my foot as I sleep tonight.  You, of course, will be honoring your mother by sleeping strapped against her sole."

I couldn't believe this! Had she gone insane? What had the maid done?!

"And then tomorrow, you will spend the day with my feet inside some nice leather boots.  Each night, I'm going to add another wool sock--until I simply can't fit them over my foot! When that happens, I'm going to place another strip of band-aid across your mouth so you can only inhale the odor through your cute nose."

I struggled against my bonds, to no avail.

"In essence, honey, you are going to be your mother's foot slave for a long time.  You are going to fall in love with my feet.  Each beat of my heart will be like a hug for you--and you will become so accustomed to every smell, wrinkle, and ounce of weight from them that you will beg me to keep you there for years.  I'm going to be your girlfriend, mother, and goddess."

I couldn't say anything.  I could merely watch out the corner of my eye as the world around me swirled and my mom placed her foot, on top of me, inside the hard surface of her sandals.   

As my mom stepped onto my frail structure, pain ripped through my bones.

I jerked awake, and found myself once again on the gigantic bed sheets in her hotel room.  Another dream! Each time they became more sadistic.  I wasn't sure why my mind was constructing such odd fantasies, but it frightened me.  I didn't desire such torture from my mom--at least, not consciously!

After a few moments, I heard the door open, and my giantess mom entered the bedroom, a frustrated look on her face.  When she sat next to me, I lightly bounced off the bed and landed with a soft "thud" on the fabric.  Leaning over me with her now massive breasts, she explained the situation.

My mom had learned from the front desk the name of the maid that had fit my description and been working that morning; unfortunately, she had left for the day and wouldn't be back until the morning.  Furthermore, my mom hadn't explained the problem to the front desk, and wanted to confront the maid directly when she returned the next day.

"I'm so sorry, honey," she told me, sighing.  "I've booked an additional night in this room--looks like it will be a little while longer before I can help you."

My heart sank.  What a day! Trapped unknowingly under my mother's foot; then begging for more of the same later in the day; now, forced to endure another night, shrunken to a half-inch, sore, smelly and naked.  Things couldn't get worse!

"Are you okay on my sheets? Do you need anything?" she asked. 

"Some food!" I shouted.  Smiling, my mom stood up, the bed creaking back into place.  After a few moments, my mom placed down some crumbs from a broken candy bar for me to eat.  Next to me, she put down some toilet paper, and after eating, she turned her head so that I could relieve myself on the paper.  She then took the paper and flushed it.  At this point, I had become so used to her seeing me naked that I didn't even attempt to hide my privates.

Standing now over the bed, she rubbed her hand through her hair.  "I'm going downstairs to the lounge's bar, honey.  If you're okay here, I'll let you rest.  I've had such a long day--sore feet, and so guilty!" 

I nodded understandingly.  She deserved a break and a couple drinks to ease her mind.  While not a drinker in any sort of way, I understood that even she might benefit from a glass of wine. 

"Do you need anything else?" she asked, voice booming.  I nodded "no," and sat down to rest.  "Okay," she said, turning, "I'll be back soon."  I watched my giantess mother, high heels and all, leave the room and exit into the hallway.

My nap earlier hadn't refreshed me, and so I made myself comfortable on a smaller pile of fabric.  Covering myself as best I could with the white sheets, I once again drifted to sleep.   

Thankfully, no dreams of motherly torture filled my mind this time.  Instead, I awoke hours later to the sound of the hotel room door opening and shutting rather loudly.

With the sun set and the lights off, the room was quite dark.  As my mom entered, a small lamp near the dresser was switched on, bathing the room in dim yellow.  Dark shadows danced around the irregular sheets.

Pushing them off my body, I sat up.  Barely visible in the mellow light, I watched as my mom stood near the bed, acting rather odd.  Weaving in place, she seemed unbalanced, even tipsy.  Was she...drunk?

With her back to me, she awkwardly removed her white top and let it fall to the floor.  I could see the straps of her cream-colored bra.  Then, almost seductively, she unzipped her black skirt and shimmied it to the floor.  Now my mother stood in high heels, black panties and bra.  I felt a bit disgusted, having this sight directly in front of me.  However, due to her strange behavior, I was afraid to turn around and let her out of my sight.

Then, she kicked off each heel, sending them flying across the carpet and against the dresser.  What was she doing?

Bending over, she prepared to sit on the bed, still having said nothing to me.  However, as the giantess loomed over the sheets, she "fell" more than "sat."  Before I could react, my mom's panty-covered butt came crashing down inches from my body, sending me flying over a nearby hill of sheets and landing against the comforter. 

Anger flooded my mind.  She could have killed me! Didn't she know I was here?!

My mom scooted her back against the headboard, and swung up her legs.  I watched in horror as the giant limbs hovered over my body, and before I could stand, they too came crashing down on the bed, one on each side of me.  The shockwaves sent me flying up again, landing back onto the comforter, and I was now placed between two giant knees that were inches away from my delicate form.  I couldn't believe she was doing this!

Turning, my penis became instantly erect, despite my disgust.  In front of me was my mom's giant panty, black and woven with a flowerly pattern.  Looming above were her stomach and giantess bra, and as she rested her back and head against the wooden headboard, I could see the problem clearly now.

Her eyes, visibly red in the darkness and blinking rapidly, made her intoxication obvious.  How much had she drunk?!

Rubbing her face with her hands, I started yelling to get her attention.  Had she truly forgotten about me?

"Mom!" I shouted.  "I'm between your legs! Be careful!"

No success.  She merely rubbed her eyes, breathing loudly, and I could smell the alcohol in the air.  As an inexperienced drinker, she no doubt had allowed herself to get carried away.  Now, she threatened to crush her own son on her bed!

She then bent her legs and brought her knees to her chest.  The two massive feet scooted on the sheets on either side me, tangling them and dragging me foward as well.  With her feet now near her body, the sheets had drug me to within inches of her panty.  Struggling to free myself, I could feel the heat emanating from her vagina through the clothing. 

Desperate to escape the sickening turn of events, I tried to free myself from the mess of fabric and run away from her body.  Instead, she scooted her butt foward, presumably to make herself more comfortable on the headboard, and I could not move before finding myself pressed against her panty!

"Oh my god!" I shouted.  "Mom! Please stop!" With my face and chest pressed directly on the rough panty, I kicked my legs inside the sheets, trying to find some foot-hold.  I could smell the strong, humid odor of her private area.  This was the worst possible outcome of the day's events! If only she knew what she was doing!

I used my hands to press my face and chest off the panty, the fabric barely giving.  Still facing her vagina and trying to hold my breath, I began to have luck with my feet.  In a moment, I would flee to the far end of the bed--and as far away from my mom as possible!

Suddenly, a wrecking ball smacked into my back and compressed me against her panty tightly.  The rubbery wrecking ball now sealed my entire body, face first, against the hot clothing.  Her hand! It had fallen to cover her vagina--deliberately or not!

Shocked, I inhaled air as my mouth and nose were squished on the black clothing.  The rich, thick smell of her vagina entered my lungs.  In any moment, I felt I would vomit.  Unable to move my arms as they remained pinned to my sides, my legs equally trapped, I begged her to take her hand away.

Instead, she slowly rubbed her hand up--then down--then up again.  With each movement, she dragged my helpless body against the panty.  I could now feel the vagina itself, the panty partially comforming to its shape.  What in hell was she doing?!

She moaned lightly, the vibrations entering my body.  Fear racked my soul.  Was she...pleasuring herself?!

She continued to rub her vagina through her panty, apparently quite unaware I was trapped against her hand.  My skin became raw with the flowerly designs, and my penis was unfortunately still erect.  In fact, despite my best mental efforts, I couldn't stop it from growing larger as the inescapable friction continued.  She moaned louder, and for the first time, I could smell the salty hint of her own juices beginning to flow inside her.  I didn't know if I should vomit or ejaculate!

My muscles were useless against the assualt.  I was an unwilling participant in her actions, and as if the smell of her feet coated on my body wasn't enough, now my mom's vagina was going to compound my odor!

I murmured against the panty, begging her to stop, crying even as I felt myself about to ejaculate.  If only my mom knew! Faster and faster, she worked her hand outside the panty, pressing it harder and deeper into her vagina and myself along with it.  Only the panty, now amazingly hot and moist, kept me from a horrible fate inside my own mother!

Moaning louder, she worked herself into a frenzy, as the moist panty began to grow wetter, indicating her own sticky juices were flowing out from her body! Now I, too, began to absorb some of the moisture, and the newfound lubricant was too much for my penis to handle, and as she began to cry out loudly, perhaps climaxing, I too ejaculated--against my will--again and again on her panty as she matched my rythym.

"Oh god!" I shouted, immersed in her odor and moisture.  "Mom! Mom!" I shouted again.  She then began to slow, my hair wet and my body shaking. Practically sucked inside her vagina, the panty was quite soiled, and then my mom removed her hand.  For a moment, I was glued to her palm, then as she raised her hand I was flung violently against the sheets and landed between her feet.

Exhausted and shaking, I breathed deeply, sick and ready to vomit as I considered my actions.  My mom and I...I couldn't even think it! Pleasured together!

Irony flooded my mind.  At first unaware because of my size, now her intoxication had made her unaware of me once again.  As I laid on the bed, I wondered what could possibly happen next.  Just then, she scooted her feet together towards each other!

Like a character from an action movie, I knew that I had mere miliseconds to avoid being crushed between two closing walls--only in this case, those walls were the sides of my mom's giantess feet.

Quickly flipping from my back to my hands and knees, I scrambled down the linen surface.  Just as freedom was within my grasp, a loose thread caught my tiny ankle, halting my progress.  Realizing my escape was over, I squinted my eyes shut, blew out my breath and gritted my teeth as I braced for impact by flattening myself on the bed.

Sure enough, one of the the enormous appendages landed on top of my back, suddenly stuffing me into the sheets as that area of the bed depressed under the weight.  As the springs cracked and groaned, the foot pushed me down further until I finally remained inside a silent tomb of cotton and sole.  My mom's foot rested on top of me, the heat of her skin threatening to cook me like a raw turkey inside this improvised oven.  Pinned face-first, I could not breath.  With no oxygen in my lungs, I calculated that I would pass out and suffocate in 30 or more seconds.

It wouldn't have been the first time that day.  Indeed, if death was to come, it would be a release from the constant torture that seemed to befall me every step of the way.  Under my mom's feet...against her panty...nothing else was left!

I could only imagine what she was doing, high above me.  Maybe, in her drunken state, she had passed out.  If so, I was truly doomed.  Maybe she was...pleasuring herself again.  Maybe simply scratching her knee.  Whatever the case, she obviously had no recollection of my being on the bed, and certainly no knowledge that she was now smothering me slowly under her foot.  What a way to go!

I waited.  Time passed slowly.  As my lungs burned for fuel, I began to struggle involuntarily inside the tomb.  Unable to move even a finger, I nonetheless became racked with pain and vibrated as best I could.  Suddenly, the foot above me raised from the sheets and my mom extended her leg foward.  The sudden, jerky motion sent me flying from her sole as she straightened out her knee.  I flew over a mound of sheets before crashing onto the linen near a corner of the bed nearest the bathroom.  Bouncing and rolling to a stop, I laid still, afraid to move.

Cautiously, I peered over the sheets and watched as my mom swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood, the release of weight bouncing me once again.  She began to wobble and stagger around the bed.  I watched as she passed by me and entered the bathroom, turning the sink on for a glass of water. 

I considered my options.  At this point, I was in danger on any part of the bed--that much was certain.  However, as I got up and peered over the edge, I knew that tossing myself down to the carpet would be practically suicidal.  At only a half-inch tall, such a fall, even on carpet, would knock me out or kill me.  If I broke my leg, I could very well be crushed by my mom's steps if her heel was placed atop me. 

I could, perhaps, climb down.  I walked along the edge, looking for a hanging sheet or comforter that would afford me a way down.  As my mom drank her water, I made my way along the edge toward the middle of the bed.  Finally, I discovered a long section of sheet that draped itself to the floor, almost creating a gigantic slide to the carpet.  I could easily scoot down it without fear of hurting myself, though the distance down was daunting nonetheless.

I closed my eyes and tried to psyche myself for the challange.  Visualizing the trip down, I slowed my heart and tried to calm my rattled nerves.  After a moment, I convinced myself that I would succeed.

I opened my eyes.  In front of me now, indeed standing on the bottom portion of my sheet-slide, was my giantess mother. 

My giantess mom stood at the edge of the bed with her back to me.  She must have finished her water and stumbled backwards to the bed.  As her shadow loomed over the sheets and me, I watched as her hands dropped to her hips.

With one quick movement, she yanked her panties down to her knees.  Shocked, I found myself staring at my own mother's naked butt.  Revulsion set in, and my blood froze.  She was going to sit down! And I had foolishly walked right to the middle of the bed's edge, the one place a drunk person would most likely sit!

Apparantly, she liked to sleep naked or semi-nude.  Before I could make a move, her giant butt fell towards me.  I watched as the yellow lamp light made visible tiny bits of cellulite in an otherwise tight and attractive behind.  Putting my hands up--as if that would matter--I screamed as her left butt cheek descended upon her son.

"Mooommm! No!"

Too late.  The heavy skin crumpled my arms and pushed me to the sheets.  On my back, I could only watch helpless as her butt sealed over every inch of my body.  As she continued sitting, her ass and I sank deeper into the bed, springs cracking and popping.  Deeper I went, pressed into her flesh and the linens, until at last the bed stopped giving.

Now, I found myself sandwiched between two surfaces that, theoritically, would have been soft--bed sheets and a woman's butt--but to a boy shrunk to a half-inch, intolerably heavy.  Her butt was hot--steaming, even--and my face was smushed up into it.  I could feel every pulse of her heart, again...again...again.

I contemplated my situation.  The weight of my mom's head, neck, breasts, stomach and left cheek now all centered directly on top of her shrunken son, whilst she had no clue. 

As stars began to dance in my head, she blessedly sat up--or rather, scooted sideways.  Stuck to her ass like tape, my limbs splayed to the sides, I swung with her as she positioned herself on her right side, mostly likely for sleep.  Putting herself in a position to "spoon," I at least found comfort in the fact that I would be able to peel myself from her ass after she fell asleep. 

After a moment, she did just that.  Without bothering to cover herself with sheets, or push the panty beyond her knee or remove her bra--my drunk, giantess mom began to snore very lightly in the dim room.  Sensing my opportunity, I struggled against the firm butt and finally pushed myself free, falling a fairly significant distance until I landed next to her ass on the sheets.  For a moment, I sat dazed.  Then, I stood, balancing myself on the sheets.

Next to me, the giantess butt shook very gently as my mom slept.  I felt guilty.  My situation had drove her to drink--something she normally wouldn't do! I began walking towards her massive right cheek that touched the bed.  Nearing her lower back, perhaps infatuated with the situation, I leaned over...and kissed her butt.  It was warm, sticky, both soft and yet quite firm.  A rich odor surrounded it. 

I then kissed it again.  Perhaps I was atoning for my part in the debacle--maybe I was simply attracted to such a large, attractive female ass--but whatever the reason, I couldn't stop kissing.  I even went so far as to place my penis against it and hump a little.  Pushing the sick thoughts out of my head, I didn't stop until my tiny movements must have startled her.

Like a giant redwood crashing down on a lumberjack, the right cheek that had been sideways suddenly tilted and rolled on top of me.  No sooner had I been kissing her butt than my mom rolled onto her back.  Instantly, I found my entire body, up to my neck, covered in her ass.  My head remained free, a pocket of air thankfully existing under the arch of her back as she settled into place and started snoring again.

As adrenaline washed over me, I struggled to free at least one arm so that I might push myself out from her butt. 

No luck.

I was stuck, cemented as much as--or more than--I had been under her sole.  Breathing was hard, my lungs feeling as if they were made of iron.  The air under her back was thick with her sweat and body wash, and the tiny hairs on her skin tickled my face.  My mom was deeply asleep, and I had no way of freeing myself.

Because of my foolish desire to kiss it, I was going to spend the night trapped under my mother's ass as she slept peacefully. 

As deeply as my mom slept, my own night was quite the opposite.

The intense pressure resting upon my chest and limbs made any sort of sleep or semi-drowsy existance impossible.  Constant fears of suffocation raced through my head, even as I inhaled my meager breaths under her back.  Clearly, my mom had not turned down the air conditioner, leaving the air in the room stuffy.  A sheen of "sleep sweat" formed on her exposed skin, and the moisture from her ass and the arch in her back began to slowly cover my helpless face and body. 

I could hear her deep breathing, a giant human so enormous that the noise itself would have been enough to keep me awake.  And so, the hours wore on.

Deeper into the night, I could hear the occasional thump from nearby rooms or the honking of a cab somewhere on the street far below us.  And while the air conditioner would only rarely kick on, the brief introduction of fresh air was not enough to abate the smell of my mom's sweat.  Humid and rich, I was forced to smell it with every inhalation.

After a few hours, I noticed that the linens around my head were growing uncomfortably close to my face.  My mom's stationary position was slowly wearing the bed down, flattening the sheets and threatening to push them over my nose and mouth.  Already, they covered my ears, muting some of her breaths.  If she didn't wake soon, I might not be joining her!

Boredom also "sat" in.  My desire to kiss her butt--now easily within reach of my tongue--had long since dissapeared, and without anything to occupy my time, I wished even more for her to roll over and give me something else to do.  My only occupation was a mock conversation I had with her, practice for when she would wake up.  No doubt, she would be incredibly guilty, and I had to find some way of consoling her.  That meant omitting the incident with her panty--something I was glad to do, as it was both humiliating and disgusting.

Finally, within the darkness of my tomb under her back, a small light crept in.  Daylight must have approached, and the windows, while covered in curtains, were still allowing some precious luminosity inside. 

My mom began to stir.  At first, her heavy breathing became more erratic, and she rolled only slightly to each side, still keeping me firmly in place under her butt.  Eventually, I heard her begin to groan--quite a hangover, no doubt--then, thankfully, she began to sit up.  Pressed deeply into the sheets, my own sweat having glued me to them, my mom sat and her giantess ass was removed from my body. 

As her massive back lifted above me, I remained far below on the sheets.  How to describe the physical feeling! It was if a hot-air balloon was suddenly inflated.  I felt my lungs expand, my ribs crack as they began to pop back into place, and my muscles decompress.  The amazing feeling of having that massive weight removed was almost orgasmic in itself!

Still groaning, my mom swung her legs over the edge of the bed and placed her hands on her head.  I could smell the bitter tang of alcohol in the air, and for a moment, she said nothing.

With her head hung down, she suddenly noticed her panty and pulled it up. 

"What in the world?" she mumbled. 

She raised her head slightly, then exclaimed loudly "Oh my god! Honey!"

Standing up quickly and almost falling over, she steadied herself and scannned the sheets with eyes still trying to focus through her blurry hangover.

"Honey! Honey!" she shouted.  "Oh my god! Where are you?!"

Unable to move from my position--I was both numb and racked with sharp pain in my joints--I tried to yell, but couldn't muster any noise from my abused lungs.  I could only wait.

Bending over, she lightly ran her hands through the sheets, trying to find her missing, shrunken son.  "What did I do? Honey, please! Where are you?!" The noise blasted my tiny ears.

"M...mum..." I croaked.

Finally, her eyes rested upon me, and she blinked, unable to comprehend.  Then, her eyes grew wide, and this time, she only whispered as tears began to form.  "Oh no...honey...what did I do to you?"

I remained, weakened and exhausted, inside the giant indentation of the sheets created by her giantess butt.

Having gingerly removed me from the indentation and placed me on her knee as she sat on the bed's edge, my mom sobbed uncontrollably.

Her hot skin gently vibrated, and I tried not to view her panty--all the while, she wiped her eyes and shook her head.

"I can't believe I did that to you!" she kept repeating amid the crying.  "I just wanted one drink to relax...and one led to another...it's all my fault! I could have killed you last night!"

Multiple times, I had tried to console her, but my tiny, hoarse voice was difficult to project over her loud sobs.  I gave up, and simply sat naked on her knee, covering my private area with my hand, despite the events of the previous night--events of which she thankfully knew nothing.

Finally, her mascara having been smeared by her tears, my mom placed me back on the sheets and stood.  Looming over me, she tried to manage a smile.

"Honey, I'm going to make this up to you--I promise!" she boomed.  "I'll go find the maid and get her to fix you.  I'll be back very soon.  Everything will be fine."  She said this with a tenderness that only a mother could muster.  Turning, she opened her nearby suitcase and put on a pair of jeans and a tight t-shirt.

Slipping on a pair of black flip-flops, she wiped her face with a cloth in the bathroom and then entered the hallway, shutting the door behind her.

Once again, I was alone.  The lack of sleep quickly made me drowsy, and despite a fear that another bizarre dream would haunt my mind, I made myself comfortable and took a nap.

The sound of the front door startled me awake.  I had dreamt nothing, and sitting up, I watched my mom walk toward the bed, her footfalls vibrating through the mattress.  I didn't see any kind of antidote in her hand, and her face was solomn.  What was she doing now?

Standing over me and sighing, my mom picked me up and shook her head.  "I'm so sorry, honey.  It's almost over.  We just...have to do a couple more things."  Confused, I watched as my mom used her other hand to pluck a single strand of brown hair from her head.

Delicately using her fingers, my mom pushed my arms to my sides and wrapped the hair around my body, binding my arms to my torso tightly.  My tiny size allowed her to use the same strand to wrap my legs, binding them together as well.

Before long, and to my complete confusion, my mom hand tightly wrapped me in a hair that was the same to me as an unbreakable rope.  Only my hands and feet could be manipulated now, and before I could speak, she placed me back on the sheets.  I could only lay there, unable to move as I tried to deduce how this action would fix my shrunken condition.

"I can only hope...I hope you will forgive me, honey," she began as she turned her back to me.  "Everything I'm about to do is to save you.  Please remember that."

More footfalls shook the mattress.  Someone else had entered the room!

After a moment, a second giantess loomed nearby at the bed's edge, smiling.  My heart froze.  For some bizarre reason...the maid herself was here! Not much older than my mom, the rather short Hispanic women smiled slightly, dimples forming in her brown skin.  Her hair was tightly formed into a bun and she wore her maid's uniform.  Not totally unattractive, I watched as she looked at my mom and then back to me. 

With a thick accent, she actually gave me mom an order!  "You can start now," she said quietly. 

Start what?! I wondered.  What was she doing here?  This was the very woman who had placed me in the shoe to start the whole disaster.  Where was my antidote--and why was my mom acting so strangely?

As if reading my mind, my mom answered, her back still to me.  While she spoke, she did something unthinkable--she unbuttoned her jeans pushed them to her knees!

"Silvia...Silvia will only help us if I punish you further."  My mom fought back tears.  "She said you were very rude yesterday morning.  You almost knocked her over.  And she won't tell me which bottle has the antidote unless I follow her commands."

Quickly turning to face me, tears began to roll down my mom's face.  "I...I didn't know what else to do! I can't risk spraying you with the wrong chemical.  She threatened to destory the antidote if I talked to the manager!"

Looking at Silvia, I watched her smile.  "These punishment," she said, looking at me.  "I watch her.  Only a little, then I fex you."

My mom bent down, placing her face level with the bed.  I could still smell the alcohol in her breath, the warm air tingling my body. 

"It's okay!" I shouted as best I could.  "Do whatever you have to!" I didn't desire more torture from my mom--but by now, it had almost become routine.  If this was the price I had to pay, then so be it.  Both my mom and I would be better off once I was returned to normal.

Understanding my tiny voice, my mom smiled.  "Thank you, honey," she said, standing once more.  "That really helps me."  Turning her back to me once again, I watched in horror as she pushed her panty down to her jeans, revealing a now familiar giantess butt; firm, slightly tanned and dotted with the occasional bit of cellulite. 

Not again! I begged silently.  Silvia watched from the other edge of the bed, nodding her head.  "Now, you set on him.  I tell you when to stand."

Taking a deep breath, my mom then lowered her butt toward my helpless form.  Turning her head to be sure she was "on target," she lined up the middle of her left cheek with my body.  Despite the neccessary situation, I still struggled against her hair, but to no avail.

"Sorry," she whispered again.  With that, the first bit of heavy, rubbery skin was placed on my chest, quickly enveloping my legs and arms.  I turned my face to the side just as the hot cheek was placed over it was well.  Blowing out my breath, the weight suddenly increased, and as I become totally immersed in the hot skin, she continued to sit on me gently, the sheets sinking downward.

Finally, she rested her body on her shrunken son--not for the first time--and inside the total blackness, all I could do was wait for Silvia to give the command that would release me.

The pain was great.  Feeling crushed between the now unforgiving behind of my mom and some unseen spring or wood rail under the sheets, I could feel my ribs pop and my organs compress.  I wondered if Silvia merely wanted to embarrass me, or if she had more sinister designs.  Certainly, I would be dead after a few moments.  Would my mom stand before that happened, perhaps sensing her son's life dwindling away? Or, would she fight for the antidote, even if it meant bringing me to the edge of death? Time would tell. 

Desperation kicked in as my body screamed for oxygen.  As my spasmadic muscles began to fight against the giantess sitting on top of me, yellow stars and lines raced through my head.  I moaned inside my mom's ass, begging her--beggin Silvia--to end the torture. 

Panicked and frightened, the punishment continued for another moment when my mom quickly stood, taking her bound son with her as I was stuck to her skin.

Inhaling deeply, my vision blurry, I heard Silvia speak.  "That good," she began.  "Now, shoe."

Shoe?! What next?

Peeling me from her ass and placing me on the bed, my mom pulled her panty and pants back up.  "Please, Silvia," she said, facing the hispanic woman.  "No more! He's suffered enough.  Let's end this now!"

From my position, I could see Silvia shake her head.  "No.  That not deal. I want to see more before I fex him."

Looking downcast, my mom then took me from the bed.  The next few moments were a blur to my mind as the oxygen tried to restore my mental functions to normal.  Silvia came to our side of the bed and removed her stocking covered foot from a cheap-looking black mule, a shoe cracked and faded from numerous days of use.  My mom placed me directly inside the shoe and into the toe section.  In my delirium, I could still smell the hot, thick, funky odor of the hispanic woman's foot!

The light inside the shoe was extinguished as my mom placed her own foot inside the shoe, resting her sole directly on top of her son! Once again, she used her toes to position me, this time leaving my body buried whlile my face found a space under her toes.  The shoe was clearly too small for my mom, as her toes were scrunched together on top of my nose and mouth.

Then, the crush pain began again.  I could hear Silvia giving my mom orders loudly.

"Push hard! I want to see shoe flatten.  Keep pushing!"

Pain racked my abused and naked existance as my mom obeyed the woman's commands, pushing her foot more deeply onto her son inside the smelly prison.  When first placed inside the shoe, I had inhaled Silvia's foot odor, but now, my lungs were emptied again.  More and more, my mom forced her sole to bury me, searing my skin with her own hot skin. 

She would let up occasionally, and Silvia seemed to notice.  "Too soft!" she would shout.  "Push hard again! Make son beg for mommy to stop!"

"Silvia, please!" my mom cried, her  voice vibrating down into the maid's mule.  "I'm killing him!"

Silvia didn't sound sympathetic.  "Keep pushing or he stay small!"  My mom obeyed, and continued to smash me.

Blacking out for the countless time, I was suddenly removed and found myself on the spinning bed, the lights in the room dancing around me.  First my mom's ass, and now her sole.  Such quick torture was leaving me nausuas and dizzy, and I could barely focus on my giantess mom as she listened to Silvia once again.

Silvia's words began to pile together in my head, and I could not comprehend what she was saying.  Clearly, though, the punishment wasn't quite over, as the next hour saw me abused in various ways by my mom, despite her frequent protests.  I wasn't able to deduce how long each "session" lasted, but each was painful and degrading. 

First, my mom sat on the bed, crossing her legs, and pushed me face-first into her left foot's sole, using her palm to bury me completely.  Then, placing me face-first on the carpet, she rested her big toe on my back, crushing me into the rough fibers as Silvia stood nearby.  At one point, my mom sat on the bed, placed my back against her palm, bent her leg, and placed the end of her big toe directly on my crotch, pushing and releasing over and again, smashing my testicles repeatedly inside the hot rubber of her toe.  All the while, still wrapped in the tight strand of hair, I screamed for mercy.

After that, I was placed inside my mom's toes as they alternately scrunched and released me for several painful mintues. Finally, I was allowed to rest on the bed, exhausted and barely conscious.

I heard Silvia talk.  "Now, for final punishment, he pick.  If I don't like, he no get fexed.  If I like what he pick, I help him."

Amid the blurry room, I heard my mom addressing me.  "Honey, you...have to choose the final punishment.  It should be something...something...painful."  She held back her tears.

Now, my fate was in my hands--and possibley the feet of my mom!

What should I do?

Already, my mom (via Silvia, no less) had put me through every variation of torture I could imagine.  How could I "impress" the hispanic woman now, given that I had endured all possible pain short of death itself?

Maybe...humiliation would work.  After all, that seemed to be Silvia's motivation in the first place by having placed me inside my mom's high heel.  If I could do something that demeaned me, that could possibly be enough to get the antidote.

Waving my arms to get my mom's attention, I explained to her my idea as she picked me up and placed me close to her face.

"Sit down on the bed!" I shouted.  "Turn your sole upwards! I'll...I'll pleasure myself on it!"

She seemed doubtful.  "Honey," she began.  Silvia cut her off.

"Time up! He do something now!" the woman demanded.

Sighing, my mom sat on the bed, crossed her legs and turned her left sole up to as level as she could muster.  I waved, indicating that I should be placed on the hot, red skin.  My mom delicately placed me on the middle of her sole, and amid the uneven, soft skin, I fell to my knees.

Silvia loomed over the edge of the bed, waiting for my "punishment."

Taking a breath, I laid down chest-first on the hot surface and allowed my penis to become buried in the sticky, funky sole.  I began to hump the skin, hoping that my decision would be enough to appease Silvia.

Nothing.  With my penis barely erect--my own mom watching me torture myself on her smelly foot--and another woman staring at my shrunken form, I could do nothing but dryly hump the foot. 

"I see he no like," Silvia said.  "That good.  He have five minute.  He no make cum on foot, he no get fexed."

At least my "punishment" would work--but I had to complete my task first, which seemed impossible.  After all, this was my mother's foot--a sole under which I had been trapped, smashed, crushed, and flattened for a day.  I had inhaled the odor, swallowed the sweat, and ejaculated on the toe.  My own mother's ass had even sat on me for an entire night as she slept peacefully.  A finger job.  Toe scrunches.  After all the abuse, I simply had no cum left to give her!

And yet, my very existance rided on this.  With my mom and Silvia watching me intently, I tried to find some sexual satisfication in my action, and yet nothing came to mind. 

"Four minute," Silvia warned.  The time limit didn't help!

Deeper into the sole I pressed myself, desperately trying to make my penis excited.  My mom seemed to notice my situation, and I felt her place a giantess finger on my back, perhaps to help.

"You no help! He do on own!" Silvia shouted.  My mom removed her finger, and Silvia indicated that I only had three minutes remaining. 

Giving up, I sat on my knees as the heat from my mom's foot surrounded my body.  I could feel the warmth emanating from the skin, and yet I could do nothing to pleasure myself.  The stillness of the room was broken by the occasional sound of the air conditioner's fan.  The quiet--the women watching me--my own desperate situation--all worked against me this time.

"Two minute," Silvia noted.

I understood that she wanted to see me suffer.  If I couldn't ejaculate on the sole, maybe some other degrading servitude would suffice.  Getting up, I walked unevenly to my mom's heel, bent down, and began licking her skin.

Her sole, while generally soft, was still fairly rough on my tongue.  On my knees, I lapped at her skin, my own saliva practically absent.  I worked my way forward toward her toes, knowing that at my tiny size I could never cover the entire area of her foot.  The taste of sweat, humidity, and bodywash greeted my taste buds.  Without looking at my mom--I didn't want to see her reaction as her own son licked her foot--I did my best to continually keep tongue on the foot.

Silvia said nothing, and I didn't face her either.  Surely she could respect my attempts to please her sadistic desire to see a mother abuse her helpless son.  On hands and knees I worked faster, reaching the middle of the sole and getting on to the softer area before my mom's toes.  I stopped thinking, and licked as if my life depended on it.   

Finally, reaching the toes, I stopped, exhausted.  I rolled to my back, chest heaving.

"That good," Silvia noted.  "Now, mother order son to lick.  I want to hear.  After that, I help."

"Silvia..." my mom began.  Looking at her, I nodded. 

Sighing, a look of frustration and sadness on her face, my mom looked at me. 

"Honey," she said weakly.

"Be convincing!" Silvia shouted.

Taking a breath, my mom began again.  "Honey, get on your knees."  I obeyed, hoping the end was near.

"You are going to lick mommy's foot.  If you raise your tongue off my skin, I'll push your face into my sole for sixty seconds of punishment."

That was...unique, yet I complied and began licking the sticky foot again with my dry tongue.  After a few moments, I had no saliva left to deposit on the giantess' sole, and I briefly raised my face from the steaming skin.  I knew my mom wouldn't actually "punish" me--this act was for Silvia's benefit, after all.

No sooner had I raised my tongue off the skin than my mom's heavy, hot finger shoved my head deep into her skin unexpectedly.  What was she doing?!

With my face smushed into the sole and my limbs left to flail unfettered, I was stunned and unable to breath.  I tried to raise my head, but my mom kept firm pressure on the back of my skull, keeping me immersed in her skin.  I hoped she was counting--maybe even shaving off a few seconds--because my lungs screamed for oxygen.

Suddenly, the finger was removed, and I raised my face to swallow as much air as possible.

"That not sixty second!" Silvia shouted.  Before I could respond, my mom pushed me into her sole again to finish the sentence.  I kicked with my legs and tried to push up with my hands on the hot skin, but my mom was unforgiving.  A few seconds later, she released me, and I was left on her foot, shaking.

I didn't dare look at her face.  I knew she was acting...but all the same, she had picked a rather painful "punishment" without prodding from Silvia.

"Now, begin again," my mom instructed.  "This time, drag your tongue on my foot until I order you to stop."  Fearful of more suffocation, I obeyed her and began licking my mom's foot.

My dry, rough tongue dragged across the equally rough and sticky skin of my mom's left sole.  Afraid to remove my tongue, I felt that it was going to bleed if she didn't allow me a respite.

I could feel her and Silvia watching me, and having made my way across my mom's foot in every direction, I slowly proceeded back toward her toes.

"That enough," Silvia said quietly.

Relieved, I sat up and tried to swallow.  My sore tongue hung in my mouth like a wool sock, uncomfortable and thick. 

"He punished now," Silvia noted.  "You come with me now."  At last! My torture was almost over.

Lightly, my mom took me from her foot and placed me on the sheets as she stood.  Smiling at me with a look of care, my mom walked with Silvia to the door and just like that--I was alone.  Silvia didn't have any parting words for me, not that I cared.  I hoped I would never see her again.

After a few moments, my mom returned--thankfully, alone.  As she made her way towards her purse on the dresser, I watched as she placed a tiny spray bottle inside while keeping another bottle in her hand.  As she neared the bed, I could see tears were in her eyes--but this time, tears of joy.

"Ready, honey?" she asked.

"Yes!" I shouted, standing on my sore legs and joints. 

Bending over, her shadow blocking out the light from the window, my mom lightly sprayed my body with the misty liquid.  After three squirts, she turned and placed that bottle in her purse as well.

And...nothing.

Turning back to me, she smiled.  "Silvia said it would take about a day for you to grow back."

A day?!

My mom must have noticed the look of frustration on my face.  "I know you've had to wait a long time, honey.  But I don't think  she was lying.  After she gave me the antidote, she actually went back into a room and started cleaning as if nothing happened!" She laughed.

I sat back on the sheets.  My mom walked towards the bathroom.  "I'm getting cleaned up, honey.  See you in a few minutes."  With that, she entered and shut the door.

Stretching my legs out on the sheets, I placed my feet in a wrinkle and made myself comfortable, falling asleep almost instantly.

My mom woke me later as she exited the bathroom.  Wearing a pair of tiny shorts and a t-shirt, she walked to the bed.  "Any luck, honey?" she asked.

Blinking, I noticed that my feet actually extended slightly beyond the wrinkle.  After an hour, I had grown--barely a noticable amount.  All the same, I was overjoyed, and as I stood, I shouted happily.

"It's working!" I yelled. 

"I'm so happy!" she responded, picking me up in her warm hands.  A thick scent of bodywash and perfume now greeted my nostrils.  "I'm very sorry about today," she began.  Before she started crying, I interrupted her.

"It's okay!" I shouted.  "It wasn't your fault! At least I'm growing now!"

"Yes, you are," she responded, sitting on the bed.  "You know...there were times I almost enjoyed pleasuring you.  I know it's strange...and wrong...but having you so tiny, and so dependent on me--I guess it made me feel like a mother again."

While I didn't share her sentiment, I merely smiled.  At least someone enjoyed the day--though, admittedly, I had found some pleasure a few times as well!

She continued to hold me, and the room became very quiet.  The situation was still awkward, and I hoped we could put everything behind us after I had grown to my regular size.

"So," she started again, perhaps to break the silence.  "What do you want to do until you're fixed? Rest on the bed?"

"Okay!" I shouted.  My mom stood. 

My mom sat outside the cafe in the warm, sunny air.  We weren't far from the hotel, and she dangled her left foot casually, her black flip-flop barely hanging from her toes.

I watched attractive girls walk by, their firm, supple legs and brightly-painted toenails shining in the sun.  The giggled to each other, drinking sodas and enjoying the nice weather.  None of them, however, noticed me.

I was upside-down, underneath my mom's foot.  Having grown another inch in the past hour, I was still small enough for her to strap me to her foot using a band-aid.  Having done this in the hotel room--she said she needed "closure" one last time--she now allowed me to see the women walking along the sidewalk, torturing me with their sexy proximity one last time before I became too big.  I struggled against the band-aid, desperate to kiss or lick the feet of an attractive woman who wasn't my own mother--and yet, I had no choice but to inhale the admittedly intoxicating aroma of my mom's sole.

I imagined my mom smiling, drinking tea and checking important dates on her phone, knowing I was under her foot, struggling, forced to endure more humiliation.

The walk from the hotel had been painful.  Her clean feet were a blessing, and yet I had begged her to stop this punishment as she had placed me against her foot in the room.  She promised this would be the last time, and I believed her.

We eventually left the cafe and made our way back to the hotel.  Placing me on the sheets, she sat next to me on the bed and watched television as I slowly grew throughout the day.  At times, she would touch me lovingly, encouraging me, I assumed, as my sore and aching body grew to more normal ratios.

She continued to smile, occasionally eyeing her purse on the dresser.