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I was strapped, face up, on the sole of the clear plastic high heel.  Thick threads that would seem miniscule to the casual observer bound each leg and arm, splaying my naked body helplessly.  A final thread crossed my chest and, like the others, led down pin-sized holes of the plastic and were tied underneath the high heel.

My body was positioned near the bottom of the woman's footwear, right above the area that would be filled by the ball of a women's foot if worn, my legs slightly higher due to the incline of the shoe.  I struggled against my bonds, straining my arms and legs, wriggling them in turn to see if I could loosen the restraints and gain some slack.  Methodically, I twisted as much as my thread-chains allowed, yet the threads did not give.  My skin burned from the vice-like grip of the dark fiber, and I finally gave up, exhausted.  My heart continued to race even as I stopped struggling.  Looking up, the huge expanse of a worn, thread-bare couch loomed over me. 

I was only a half-inch in height.

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

TWO HOURS EARLIER

I sat on the tiny bed, running my hands on the leather surface.  I had never seen such a small bed; it was fairly low to the ground, and tucked against a wall decorated in cheap Asian flowers.  Near the bed was a low table, now covered with all of my clothes, save a pair of boxers that still remained on my body.  A tiny chair was placed near the bed, and the dim, quiet room maintained its air of claustrophobia. 

Finally, the door to the room opened, and the Asian masseuse walked in and sat on the chair.  She was older than I expected; late-40's at least, if not older.  A thick layer of multi-colored make-up unsuccessfully hid her various wrinkles; her long black hair was tied in a large bun on her head.  Long eyelashes winked at me, and her short, somewhat thick stature sat rather business like on the chair beside me.  Though not the young, sexy Asian I had hoped for, her olive-colored skin and deep, brown eyes still belied an air of attractiveness.

"Take off all clothes," she said quickly and with a slight shrill in her voice.  Nervously, I slid my boxers off and placed them with a trembling hand with the remainder of my clothes.

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

The straps of the high heel, dangling unconnected high above me, began to sway, followed by deep vibrations within the plastic underneath me.  My body shook, each thunderous boom followed immediately by another, rythmic and growing louder.  I strained my head to look around for the source of the bass noise, but my vantage point only allowed a view of the dirty couch.  My body shook more violently as the crashing booms began to issue from all around me, until a dark shadow immersed the shoe and myself.

A monumental form passed over my tiny body, so large and immense that my brain found difficulty in placing all the various parts together into a cohesive picture.  The form then turned, standing between the high heel and the couch.  It was the Asian "mother" whom I had angered earlier.  Her enourmous height seemed like a skyscraper from my puny position, and I ogled at the impossibility of her size.  Earlier, she had been short, almost "round" in appearence, yet now, she was a giantess of the largest proporation. 

Her thick Asian legs and bare feet dissapered into an orange-and-green patterened skirt just above her knees.  A shiny wrap-like shirt covered her body and did a terrible job of concealing her large breasts.  The sleeveless shirt exposed two giant arms, thick (clearly in need of some exercise), yet strangly erotic in their feminine curves.  Her lips were a dark shade of read, her cheeks covered in red blush, her eyes surrounded by layers of blue eyeshadow.  Her hair remained in the tight bun.  All this was no different from earlier, yet now, as I lay underneath her with her large, brown eyes locked onto my naked body, I found each detail mesmerizing in sheer complexity and size.  A look of displeasure was on her face.

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

ONE HOUR EARLIER

The massage had lasted longer than I thought.  Initially, she had asked me to lay on my chest.  I obliged, the cold leather not entirely comfortable on my penis and naked body.  With vigorous intent, she had started on my shoulders, kneading them like so much dough as she worked her way down my spine.  Her fingers felt amazingly strong; the skin was soft, but I knew she had done this enough to create a strong sensation with her hand.

She had rubbed my ass, creating a tingling sensation in my penis, followed by some relaxing yet firm massaging on the back of my legs.  My head rested on a tiny pillow, the dim room quiet except for some stereotypical Asian music pumped in from a concealed speaker.

Finally, she rubbed my feet, then released her grip.  "Okay, you turn ovah," she said nonchalantly.

I obeyed, feeling a bit like a schoolchild taken to the principal's office.  I then lay on my back, with my penis totally exposed, and a feeling of exposure briefly took over before she began rubbing my chest.  She must have bathed in perfume before coming into the room; the thick, flowerly scent not only permeated the room, it hung in the air like a cloying fog.  Each movement from the Asian "mother" seemed to emit more, as if she had a dispenser hidden behind her.  The scent of roses, fruit, and potpourri was overwhelming.  Just as I felt the perfume might give me a headache, her hands passed over my penis.

"This is it!" I thought to myself.  "The reason I came to this massage parlour! The famed 'happy ending'!"

The Asian mother sat back in the chair, and looked at me with an expression of pure business and even boredom.  Whatever pleasure I had derived from the experience was just another day for her--another customer.  I was another random face who had appeared inside the tiny lobby of this hole-in-the-wall "massage parlour" expecting the coup de gras.

"Massage fifty dollah.  You have fifty dollah?" she asked in the shrill, quiet voice. 

"Um, yes," I stammered.

"You want happy ending, make him happy?" she asked.  She lightly placed her hand on my penis, instantly creating arousal in it.  "Eighty dollah.  Good deal make him happy."

"Okay," I replied.  I had at least that much in my wallet.  A bit steep, I felt, for such an experience, but reasonable enough to perhaps warrant a future visit if she had skill with that hand.

"Okay," she said, reaching into a bag next to her.  She removed a small plastic container with oil and spread it into her thick, Asian hands.

******************   

The Asian giantess lowered herself on the couch, crashing down on the old fibers and sending plumes of dust into the air.  Either she and the other ladies never cleaned, or the various layers of make-up must have accumulated on all the surfaces of the parlour.  A giant "whoosing" sound was followed by the painfully loud groans of old springs inside the couch cushions.  Old, splintered wood cracked and snapped as the couch bore its occupant. 

I struggled again with the fibers keeping me tied to the high heel, but to no avail.  The Asian mother leaned forward on the couch, issuing more groans of protest from the old furniture.  Placing her elbows on her knees, she pointed a long, overly-decorated fingernail at me.  My entire field of vision seemed dominated by this woman, her lips pursed together in a sign of anger and frustration. 

"You pay now," her voice boomed.  Before, she had sounded shrill, but now, her giantess size created a deep voice that echoed around the entire room (to me, at least), and my ears rang with the painfully high decibals.  I winced, truly frightened for the first time and wishing I could cover my ears with cotton. 

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

FOURTY-FIVE MINUTES EARLIER

"You pay now," she said, wiping her hands with a cloth, having done the same for my penis.  Initially, the hand-job wasn't working, but the Asian woman knew how to work around that, obviously, for before long I had ejaculated into her hand and onto my stomach.  "Eighty dollah."

Laying in the bed, relieved and relaxed, I reached for my shorts and removed my wallet.  I then sat up, and thumbed through leather folds.  I didn't see my money.  My face red, I looked again, looking between credit cards.  Where was my cash?  With a start, I realized I had left the money on kitchen counter; ironically, I had been counting it to see how much I could bring to the massage parlour.

"Okay, eighty dollah now," she replied.  She was getting on my nerves. 

I felt totally embarrassed.  "Do you take credit cards?" I asked meekly.

"Only cash.  You pay now. I give good happy ending."  A look of ire flashed across her less-than-genial face. 

"Look," I said nervously, "I don't have cash.  I'll get some and come back, okay?" Yeah right! I guess I wouldn't be returning after all.

"You say eighty dollah.  This cost eighty dollah."  She stood up, surprising me.  Didn't she understand? I, myself, was getting angry.

"Look, lady," I said, standing as well, my penis still semi-hard and pointing at the women who was made it "happy."  "I...don't...have it.  I'm sorry.  I will return with the money."

Looking down, I noticed her toenails were painted red with tiny white flowers.  Her short, stubby toes were scrunched in obvious anger.  I noticed how large and voluptious were her big toes.

"You pay now.  Need eighty dollah."  She reached down inside of her bag and removed some of her perfume--as if she needed more!

My face felt red, and seeing that this conversation was going nowhere, I reached for my clothes.  Either she would beleive my story about returning, or she would lose the money--that simple!

As I began sliding my boxers back onto my body, the Asian mother moved with surprising speed and sprayed the perfume into my face, having to reach up to do so.  A new scent, unlike the flowerly aroma that cloaked her body, went into my nostrils.  This scent was one of bitter herbs, and I began to cough as the mist clogged my throat and stung my lungs.  I took a deep breath, only to increase the painful sensation.  What the hell was she doing?

I sat down, coughing, trying to clear my throat of the grassy, stinging spray.  My head began to feel light, and I closed my eyes to steady myself.  I felt drunk, and my body began to grow numb.  I felt as if I was falling into a well or hole, and tried to open my eyes.  Instead, the light-headed feeling grew until I lost consciousness. 

 

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