I got some new socks yesterday. This isn't what the story's about, but socks always excite me and it's something I feel like sharing anyhow. All together I got seven new pairs, but I think my favorite ones are the ones I'm wearing right now. They're striped, of course, like all of my favorite socks. Black and a soft lavender alternate all the way up to just about the tops of my thighs, and most importantly they're soft. I haven't made my husband kiss them yet, but I'm sure he'll appreciate that when his lips are feathering across my toes.

Of course, I'd have loved to have that pleasure last night, but we went to bed pretty early. I slept in my lovely new socks, which is pretty normal for me. I'd live every moment of my life in thigh-highs if I could; I just love the way they feel wrapped around my legs and that fair bit of extra sexiness I enjoy even when I'm not showing them off. Anyhow, I got up pretty early for work since I went to sleep so early, leaving my husband and little son in bed, grabbing my phone and slipping out to go get dressed and ready.

That's my infant son, to be clear, not my "Little" son. I'm sure you understand, but some assholes like to make jokes like that. He's a year and a half old, not an inch and a half tall, so don't even start with some dumb comment.

So. I rather like it when I wake up early like this. I can afford to let myself get distracted and catch up on my messages and DA comments and other correspondence, and that's how I ended up sitting on the toilet for ten minutes staring at my phone with my toothpaste on my brush, just sitting and waiting for me. It's a bad habit, but at least today I could afford the wasted time.

In between e-mails, though, I noticed a Little down on the tile by my right foot. I'd seen a few in the kitchen over the last couple days while I was cooking and just smashed them under plates or covered them with paper towels and squashed them between my fingers. I didn't really have time to play with them properly before, but I certainly don't want them in my food.

He was obviously afraid, and I still don't know why he was out in the open like that. Maybe the space heater flushed him out. I almost always turn it on when I'm in there just because I like the warmth on my skin, but today it had given me an unexpected surprise. I stretched out my toes and knocked him over as he tried to get up and run, allowing myself a little grin as he kept trying to get around my foot and kept ending up on his back. It was totally getting me a little riled up, especially since I already felt kind of sensual and playful in these hot new socks anyhow, but I really wanted to finish my e-mails.

I don't know what happened, but one time I looked up and he was just gone. I didn't think I'd care so much, but suddenly I was looking all over the bathroom for him. I stood up and set my phone aside. I leaned over the bathtub and looked behind the toilet. No Little bastard was going to get away from me.

Finally I picked up the corner of the bath mat and pulled it back. Here's another surprise. There's a Little girl there with my tiny escaped plaything. She wasn't moving, and I couldn't tell why she was there. Maybe she was hurt, or maybe she was resting, but either way I was definitely excited to see the two of them down there at my feet, totally exposed and helpless.

I slid my foot along the floor and pressed my toes into the back of her body, and I couldn't believe how quickly she'd shot to her feet and started to run. Maybe they'd discussed this plan, but there was no planning for me. I angled my foot, dropped my toes in her path and dragged her back into the middle of the floor.

It was easy. I'm sure they knew it from the start, but they were nothing to me. The guy seemed pretty upset. I think she was his girlfriend or something. All I really knew at the time was that I was really enjoying showing off my new tall, striped socks for him, and I was going to enjoy showing him what they could do even more.

I couldn't see her. I don't know if he could. Her Little body was completely covered by my foot, and I tried to be as careful as possible. I hadn't stepped on one of them in a really, really long time, put I was pretty sure she was right under the ball of my foot. I heard him scream, but her I couldn't hear. I couldn't even feel her as I just slowly, firmly pressed my foot down for a second. God, they're so damn tiny and so utterly fragile.

I lifted my foot and at first I didn't see her, but sure enough there she was, stuck right in the middle of one of my sock's lovely lavender stripes. Her bottom half was mashed flat, a bit of wetness and split flesh mingled with the threads of my sock, but she wasn't dead. I could see her arms stretched out, clawing at something or anything in utter desperation.

Honestly, it kind of grossed me out. I stretched out my leg and scraped her off on the rim of the toilet seat, but again she just kind of stuck there. I took care of it with a single square of toilet paper, brushing her into the bowl. The water soaked through the paper in an instant, and I could see her still struggling beneath it and the surface of the water, her two remaining limbs still scrabbling about uselessly.

I leaned back against the edge of the bathtub to watch her drown, and that really only took a moment longer. I spent at least twice as long admiring the bottom of my beautiful foot, staring at the tiny dark, wet spot where she'd been stuck to my sole. Nobody else who saw it would have the faintest idea, or even really know there was anything there to see.

I'd know, though. My godlike foot had crushed her and killed her and I didn't even feel her squish beneath me. What a fragile, useless fuck.

I was pretty hot by that point, but the things that I wanted and the time I had left weren't in agreement. I had to go pull some pants on, grab my boots and get to work, but obviously I let the scene play out over and over in my mind all day. I want more, and I want so much. Littles to grind beneath my heels. My husband to crawl at my feet, kissing my awesome socks and worshiping me like the unstoppable giantess I am. I'll step on him and I'll step on them and every second of it will just be so good and so fucking right.

I lost track of the Little man during the whole ordeal, but I'm sure that somewhere in my house, the tiny bastard is sobbing uncontrollably, unable to get the sight of those adorable purplish stripes and the half-crushed body of his girlfriend out of his mind. He'll come out eventually, though, and I'm sure his useless Little life will end beneath my foot as well.