Kat hummed softly to herself, enjoying the fine afternoon. The world always seemed a bit brighter when she walked home in a new pair of shoes, and this afternoon every click that the tall, broad heels of her new black pumps made on the pavement simply delighted her. The only issue, of course, was that nobody else was around to appreciate her and these lovely new shoes... the way they matched perfectly with her cardigan, and how utterly sexy they made her feel when she paired them with her striking red stockings.
Well, there was somebody around, though he wasn't exactly much of a somebody. Kat's father was down on his hands and knees, struggling to do something or other with the tile flooring in the kitchen. She could tell by the way he didn't even look up and just gave a halfhearted "'Ey, sweetheart," that he was probably four beers deep into this particular task.
"Hiya, Keith!" she quipped with an effervescent air, walking briskly towards him. Her new heels clacked noisily across the floor he was working with, though he still didn't look up, engrossed in settling one cracked piece of tile against another. With a wry grin, Kat continued forward, not even breaking her stride and stepping down firmly on his current project, taking an odd bit of satisfaction in feeling the tile seperate and crunch under her heel.
"I got new shoes, Keith. I bet you like them, don't you?" she utters, half purring as she watches her father blink, mouth agape, totally flustered. She slowly twists her foot, the leather of her lovely shoe catching the overhead light, shining a bit as she displays it from ever angle. "I can't get over how great my legs look in heels like these. I'm even pretty sure I saw at least two people checking out my feet on the way back through the mall, too." Her foot shifts just a bit to the side, dragging across the tile with a faint scraping sound, the rounded toe of her shoe just faintly nudging her father's hand. "You know how I love it when people pay attention to my perfect feet, don't you, Keith?"
For his part, it took far too long for Keith to overcome his silence. In a half-drunken fog, the shock of his daughter bursting into the kitchen and callously trampling the last half hour of his work, let alone boldly displaying her (admittedly exquisite) stockings and new heels just inches from his face, had left him helpless and staring in surprising fascination at his daughter's feet. "Th... they sure are very nice, sweetie," he manages to stammer out while slowly raising his head. Maybe his head does rise a little too slowly, letting his eyes appreciate the girl's shapely stockinged legs and her smart, short dress, but by the time he meets her playful gaze, her head is already shaking slowly back and forth in disapproval, her braids swishing through the air as her painted lips part to speak.
"Nuh uh," she murmurs, bending down to gently push her father's head back towards the ground. "I'm liking this whole thing, you on your hands and knees, appreciating my magnificent shoes." Her leg stretches out, letting the toe of her shoe settle atop the pencil he'd been using to mark his measurements and dragging it back across the floor. "But, you know, I've been having these thoughts recently and I wanted to share them with you, maybe get your opinion on my idea."
He was so close to her foot, he could see every exciting detail, and maybe he really was starting to appreciate her shoes a bit more. The stark black leather, paired with the enticing red of her stockings and the several inches of height the broad, tall heels gave her really left him almost powerless. He only had one weakness, but damn if she didn't know what to do with it.
Clickclickclickclickclick. Kat brought him back to attention by noisily rolling that pencil back and forth beneath her elegant shoe. "See, we both know I can do pretty much anything I want to with you." With another couple sharp clicks, she rolled the pencil back towards him again, bringing the toe of her shoe almost to his slightly parted lips. Keith slowly started to lift his eyes, almost as if seeking some sort of reassurance from his daughter as she stood above him, but a sharp reprimand changed his course,
"Eyes on my feet!" Kat snapped, interrupting her didactic speech for a moment, sending a chill through her father's spine, bringing his head even a bit lower than it was before to resume letting the curves of his daughter's footwear fill his vision. "Better. But yeah," she murmurs, idly raising the toe of her shoe, displaying its unblemished black sole while absentmindedly pressing down with her heel. "If I'm going to keep playing with you, wouldn't it be pretty awesome if you were more, I don't know, toy-sized?"
Keith's head rises from the ground again to look his devilish daughter in the eye, and he can tell that it's all she can do to keep from laughing at him. He's not all that old, and not even bad looking. All in all, he's a decent man, but here on all fours, sweat beading on his shaved head, utterly transfixed by his own daughter's glorious feet... his own sweet Katherine leaves him feeling like a piece of bewildered, frightened scum. "I don't know, sweetheart... you're not making sense," he chokes out, words half-obscured by a hacking cough.
Before long he realizes that his response wasn't required. Kat doesn't waste a word this time, directing him with a simple frown and an extended finger, pointing insistantly back to her lovely black pumps. Keith humbly complies, uncertain of what else to do besides give his attention to his daughter's feet as she demands, and his eyes return to the impressive sight just in time to watch her heel finish flattening the metal end of his pencil, popping the eraser free.
"I'd have you at about an inch tall," Kat muses, still slowly twisting her heel atop the ruined end of the pencil. "Nobody'd have to look at you anymore, and Mom wouldn't have to deal with any of your crap. You'd be my little foot toy, Keith. I think everyone'd be happier that way." With that, her smooth, unforgiving sole slowly lowers onto the little bit of pink rubber, pinning it beneath the center of her foot.
"I'd step on you, Keith," she whispers, dark and low and cruel. "I'd step right on your little body and grind you under my awesome shoes." Her foot twists, slow and seductive right before his eyes, and his mouth parts with shocking desire to see that bit of brittle rubber being slowly reduced to a pile of pink crumbs beneath his daughter's mighty foot. "You'd be completely at my mercy, Keith. I'd love experiencing all the different ways I could step on you... how you'd feel under my different shoes, or even smashed under my stocking feet if I really want to feel you. I could play with you for days! Doesn't that sound great?"
It had to be a full minute before Keith realized he wasn't speaking, that Kat was just standing there, pushing around the ruined remains of that crushed eraser with her shoe. A little rivulet of sweat ran down his nose and dripped to the floor with the faintest sound, and just when a bit of mumbling started to rise from his throat, Kat erupted in a little peal of girlish laughter and walked away, her heel pointedly pressing firmly to the ground with her first step, snapping his pencil in half with a resounding, splintering crunch. "God, you're dumb," she decreed amidst her giggles as she grabbed her purse and tromped up the stairs, enjoying the sound of her heels just as much as she did on the way home.
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Keith was in utter despair. It wasn't the first time Kat had treated him like this, but the utterly dehumanizing, dark tones and thoughts had left him quivering. He eventually managed to get off his knees and slumped to the fridge, snatching the last two companions his six-pack had left him and taking them to the living room. With a blend of fearful exhaustion and beer-fueled drowziness, he managed to drift off, hoping to put the day behind him.
It seemed no sooner than he had closed his eyes, though, that he was back on the ground, staring at the same tile he'd been working for the last few hours. Just... he was way too close to the tile. The ruins of his pencil were there, the splintered remains time and time again longer than he seemed, and the powdered pieces of eraser seemed to stretch over a frightfully vast expanse. Was he really so helpless as to not even resist his daughter's impossible desires? Even time and space were bending to Kat's whim. Panic gripped him, and redoubled itself again when he felt, then heard the earth-shattering pounding of those massive heels coming quickly down the stairs.
His breath caught in his throat, eyes flitting to each side, desperately seeking escape, but as soon as the colossus... the goddess that was Kat came into view around the stairs, there was no recourse but to stare at her divine presence. Her silky, crimson-sheathed legs stretched upwards forever. Her little dress swirled and her immaculate braids bobbed with each mindboggling step, and her delighted grin and bright eyes loomed above, holding no secrets. Those huge, expressive orbs locked directly on him, pinning him to the ground like the bug he was. She saw him. She knew, she knew where he was and expected him to be there. Each powerful step she takes rattles and shakes the tile beneath him, and quickly his eyes drop to stare at the incredible shoes that have held his focus for the last hour. He can barely breathe, seeing such tremendous, unstoppable beauty, but as she takes that last step, bringing her powerful high-heeled shoe down just inches from where he sits, a decidedly unmanly screech rises unbidden from his lungs, leaving the sweat-drenched man scurrying back away from that fantastic footwear.
"And there you are, my little toy," the goddess speaks, showing not the faintest bit of surprise to find her little inch-tall father at her feet. It's like watching the sky fall, to see her crouch down swiftly and extend her slender fingers towards him. Another animal scream escapes Keith as he writhes helplessly in her grasp, but Kat pays him not the slightest bit of attention, instead snatching up a roll of masking tape in her other hand and stretching out a little piece, ripping it off with her teeth.
"I can't believe how useless you are, Keith. At the very least, I'm going to teach you how to love my shoes. After all the showing off I did for you, you couldn't even compliment them, could you?" She holds him up to her eyes, each larger than he is, even while narrowed and scrutinizing his tiny little body. Pinning his arms to his sides and grasping him firmly with her thumb and forefinger, she starts to wrap the thick tape around his body. "You're going to get a real close-up lesson now, don't you worry. And don't think I've forgotten... I still can't wait to step on you."
Mustering all his courage, Keith decides to give one last desperate grasp for safety. "Katherine! You can't do this, I'm your father!" His eyes are wide, making it more than obvious that his words are far more of a plea than a demand.
"Nope." She stretches the tape around his body, binding his limbs tightly together and pressing the last bit of it over his mouth, cutting off his argument and anything more than frail little whimpers and moans. "You're a worm, Keith, and you'll be nothing more than that until I say otherwise." Then, with a casual tilt of her hand, her father the worm starts to roll along, and she thinks she can make out the faintest muffled scream as she lets him start plummeting through the air.
He might have survived an impact with the tile, but luckily his daughter was sweet enough to slide her foot beneath his falling body, letting him slam into the far softer stocking-covered flesh and roll awkwardly along the curve of her foot, eventually coming to rest atop the toe of her shoe. "Can you feel how smooth and supple that leather is? God, my shoe is way more precious than you ever could be," she utters, her powerful voice echoing noisily in his ears. Everything seems distorted and horrifying to the inch-tall Keith, and he's still powerfully dazed from the fall. He's totally unable to move even an inch; it's all he can do to lay there, his cheek resting against the pure black leather beneath it, the rich fragrance of his daughter's new shoe filling his senses.
"As soon as I pulled on these stockings and slipped my feet into these shoes, I could feel it," she continues, settling back into one of the chairs at their kitchen table. Her toes started to stretch and flex, jostling Keith around a little bit. Every one of those toes, even the smallest one was at least twice his size, and that's all he can think about as he's rolled around atop her foot. "I can feel their eyes on me. I can feel how they want me when I walk by in these sexy high heels."
She leans forward, her braids dangling towards her helpless tiny father far below. There's clear contempt in her voice as she stares directly at the little man. "I can feel how you want me, Keith, but you're just a worm at my feet. Lucky for you, I like worms too." She rocks her colossal shoe back on its heel, leaving him to helplessly roll back towards her ankle and smack into the shoe's slender buckled strap, sending him skidding off of her foot and sliding helplessly down to the floor. He lays on his side, a broad, black, towering block heel filling his field of vision as his daughter's godlike voice still echoes all around him.
"I like how they know to crawl out onto the sidewalk to greet me," she continues, dragging her heel back noisily against the tile and lifting it just the faintest bit into the air, allowing it to hover menacingly above her little plaything as she continues. "How they lay right in my path, just waiting for my pretty shoes to smash them."
Terror grips every ounce of Keith's being. He can't tell if that textured heel is getting closer or not, but he swears he can feel it against his face. Desperately thrashing, he tries to gain any grasp on the ground, tries desperately to crawl away, but there's nothing he can do. That massive high heel blots out the light, and it really does settle onto his fragile body, pressing him into the hard tile. His heart hammers in his chest while mouth strains desperately at the tape covering it, his fingers flexing and scraping at anything they can grab, but all they can do is stick uselessly to the tape surrounding him.
For her part, Kat interrupts herself with a soft, contented moan. Her heel twists slowly, grinding her stupid dad beneath it. His whole body fits easily beneath it, and she can't help but press down a little more, letting the tread dig into his soft little body before she gives a little flick of her shoe and sends him sliding forward along the tile, leaving him able to look up into her playful, sultry stare. "Don't be so scared, Keith. I'm not going to smash you just yet. You're my new special toy, remember?" Her massive, menacing black shoe shifts into the air and drifts towards him again, cutting off his view of anything but its smooth black sole expanding in every direction, descending towards him again.
"I'm going to step on you, over and over and over again," she purrs, though he can barely make out her words. Again he's smashed into the ground, now directly under the center of Kat's almighty shoe. He can just make out the shape of the heel that was grinding him beneath it moments ago, but before he has time to consider that any more, she starts sliding her foot forward, forcefully and frightfully rolling his body a half dozen times until he reaches the back of her sole.
"That's all you're good for, Keith. Being smashed beneath my sexy feet..." she purrs softly, delighting in taunting the worthless little man beneath her shoe. Dizzy and dazed and sick, he can only stare upwards at the exceptional, looming arch of her imposing shoe, reading the branding and the sticker, twice his size, boldly proclaiming that he was being completely controlled by a size eight. In an instant, that comforting sight was wrenched from him as her foot slid back, dragging him back beneath it, rolling him roughly again and again and again, slapping his face into the cold tile and the firm shoe and straining his shoulders and his joints... he was sure he would burst, just like countless other worms who'd been helpless beneath these same superior soles, when finally he rolled into daylight, past the smooth, rounded toes of his daughter's domineering high heels.
Far, far above him, Kat sat comfortably in a chair he'd bought, in the kitchen he'd remodeled, in the house he owned. None of that mattered now, not to a worm like him. He trembled and breathed a number of steady, shallow breaths, eyes locked on the fantastic foot that had just released him, sparing his miserable life for another moment at least as it rose and fell, tapping impatiently on the hard tile beneath, jarring his senses with each impact. Each one of those little taps could smash him like an insect, and it takes a long time to push that from his mind long enough to lift his head, looking his little princess in the eye.
Her hand reaches down at long last to take a delicate hold of her heel, and he finds himself holding his breath as he watches her majestic foot start to slip free of the shoe she so loves, the shoe he's learned so swiftly to hold in fear and reverence. There's an aching in his chest as he watches every inch of her red, stockinged sole emerge, and even a little whimper as he admires its every exquisite curve, admires the perfect shape of her slender toes. His body, his mind, his soul are all so brutally beaten, worn, and trampled that there's nothing he can do to suppress the shameful desires he's had for so long.
"You deserve this, Keith," she murmurs as her warm and wonderful foot stretches out overhead, her toes flexing and stretching eagerly, as though they hungered to feel his little body pinned beneath them. "You deserve to be my foot toy... to be smashed beneath my shoes, and smothered beneath my stockings."
The ball of her foot brushed against his face, and each of them shuddered. He strained against his bonds, fear forgotten, desperate now with longing for his due. He deserved this. She needed it. Her divine foot pressed down, erasing the rest of the world, the rich fabric of her silken stocking enveloping him completely. She groaned with delight to feel his entire body sinking into her sensitive sole and started to twist, slow and smooth and firm. She didn't need to be gentle, her sole was so soft, and with merciless fervor her heel slowly raised, smashing her father. Grinding the little worm into the ground.
If only the tape were gone, he could sweetly kiss her supreme sole. The pressure was incredible, but he struggled not a bit, only pressing himself needily into his daughter's warm, exquisite stocking, letting it rub and grind into his body as his cheek nuzzled at the fabric. It didn't matter that his sweet little Katherine was stepping on him like some worthless little worm.
He couldn't move, and he couldn't see, and he couldn't breathe, but he was right where he belonged.