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.