Scott straightened the collar of his dress shirt as he leaned against the kitchen door frame, ensuring all the buttons were still in place before patting out the barely-noticeable wrinkles of his slacks.  Though he’d only been under his house arrest for just over a month now, it felt like he hadn’t had the chance to wear anything other than t-shirts and shorts, or just his bare skin, for years.  Somehow, despite the knowledge that his current garments could be stripped from him just as easily as any of his normal doll-sized ensembles, it felt oddly empowering in the smallest way possible to be able to wear something this nice.        

            With a start, he realized he was experiencing something he hadn’t felt for some time, either, in the smallest of glimmers: confidence.

            Specifically, just enough to know that he might make it through this day in one piece and achieve another relatively novel sensation this very evening if he played all his cards right.

            Happiness.

            Wednesday had arrived at an absolute crawl, even though it was only two days away from his hard-won and emotionally expensive phone call with Ella.  Now that it was a half hour to twelve, with the financier prospects and potential political hard-hitters for Judy’s senatorial campaign set to arrive very soon at the museum gardens rented for the afternoon, he simply had to bite his lip and endure this final slog before he could have that chance.

            Judy was putting the final touches on her make-up upstairs before everyone could head off to the event together.  All things considered, Scott was grateful that his weekly outing would be at a foot tall and in full fresh air.  There were certainly worse ways to spend these mini-vacations from his servitude, most of which he had personally experienced.

            “You look like somebody’s ventriloquist dummy,” Maggie snorted down at her twelve-inch sibling as she and Kyle came around the corner, both decked out as well in their Sunday best for the event.

            “Thanks, Maggie,” Scott mumbled without missing a beat, too focused on his upcoming evening to be bothered by this or even anything legitimately seething his sister could concoct.  He wrung his hands around the end of his tie nervously.

            “Doesn’t he?” she chortled to her younger brother, who stood at a solid half a foot taller than her.

            Rubbing a knuckle against one of the lenses of his glasses, Kyle crouched down closer to the ground and squinted at Scott.

            “Your tie is screwed up,” he commented dryly with the experience of someone who had spent far more time in formal wear than his party-hard brother before standing back to full height and marching for the door leading outside.  “Try looping over the top instead.”

            “Yeah.  Uh, thanks,” Scott uttered it embarrassment, locking his eyes downward as he fumbled awkwardly to undo the tie and address the issue.  The room fell silent until Maggie took a step forward, ensuring the tips of her polished white heels were fully in her brother’s limited field of vision.  She tapped her shoe lightly in a rhythm against the hardwood.

            “Poor, poor little boy.  Can’t even put his doll clothes on right.”

            “I’m learning.”

            “Mhmm.  Sure you are,” Maggie remarked quietly before miraculously backing off again and heading for the garage, the chunky heels of her shoes clacking against the floor.  “Don’t take too long, or somebody’s going to want to redo the whole thing for you, just to make sure it’s done right.”

            Trying not to shudder as the garage door slammed shut behind the middle Stevens child, Scott realized he had made the same mistake as before with the tie and set about grumblingly starting over.

            That was when the door creaked again, less than a minute after it had closed.

            “I can get it.  I really can get it,” he called out hopefully.

            “You can say that again,” laughed the voice of Nancy Dugan in a throaty drawl as she sauntered into the room on her improbably high heels, constricted toes peeping out at the tips of the shoes that were each adorned with a tiny pink bow.

            Scott’s stomach lurched into his throat.

            “H-Hi, Mrs. Du-”

            “Remember what we talked about last time?”

            “Nancy,” he restated immediately.  “Sorry.”

            “Whatcha doing down there?” she pressed curiously.  “Waiting for your mommy to come back and pick you up in your fancy big-boy clothes?”

            “M-Mom said she wanted to check on my outfit before I get in the car,” Scott answered, willing himself to get control of his speech before the stammer got worse, though already his innards were filled with the fluttering of a thousand anxious moths.

            “And well she should, but I don’t think you’ll have a problem,” Nancy declared, and finally Scott allowed himself a glance up the dizzying expanse of her toned leg, past her taut suit, and up to her towering face far above as she loomed over him with hands decisively on her hips.  She winked.  “You look damn fine in that little toy get-up.”

            “Thanks.”

            “What do you think of mine?”

            “You mean…”

            “My outfit.  What do you think?  I just picked it up yesterday.  Personally, I think it says “professional,” but still not afraid to bite someone’s lip if they give me a good reason.  You know what I’m saying?” Nancy babbled enthusiastically, letting the tip of her tongue dance across her lower lip as she did.

            “I… um… I think it looks good!” Scott answered.  “V-Very nice.”

            “Well, not quite the reaction I was hoping for, but we can work with it,” the woman said with a deflated shrug.  “Not like the outfits really matter when they end up all crumpled up on a bedroom floor, anyway.”

            Scott was doing his very best to play along as neutrally as possible despite the kind of mounting discomfort that could practically put him in the hospital, but this was reaching a limit.

            What did she want with him?  Was she truly this out-of-her-mind desperate to make him hers?  This was a woman who could seduce twenty-five-year old guys who owned Porsches and have them crawling back to her for more.

            Was it simply because he couldn’t get away?  That she could toy with him however she pleased as long as she kept up only the paltriest of social etiquette around other people?  Was that all it took to make her this ravenous?

            Was she truly that sick?

            “Just a joke, little mister, lighten up,” Nancy chuckled with another wink.  “Let’s not fool ourselves here.  We both know that even if you were at full height, you still wouldn’t be able to handle all of me.”

            “I… I… l-look, Nancy…” Scott sputtered, not sure whether to feel more insulted or frightened.  “I’m… I’m still with my girlfriend.  Today I’m going to…”

            “You’re going to what today?”

            “Today I’m… going to draw the line.  That I’m staying loyal to her,” he corrected himself, reflecting on just how out of it he must’ve been to have so nearly let slip that he was going to see Ella this very day to the person who would probably take sexual joy in relaying that very information to Judy.

            “Nobody said I wanted to steal you away from her, Scott.  What kind of woman do you think I am?”

            Pondering this briefly, he resolved that there was literally no answer to this question that wouldn’t be the worst thing to possibly come out of his mouth.

            “T-Then you can understand why I don’t want to… um…”

            “Want to what?”

            “Mess around.”

            “Mess around,” Nancy repeated as a sly smirk crept over her maroon lips.  “You really think I’m the kind who messes around?  Believe me, when I start something, I go all in.  I do things intentionally and I don’t have regrets.”

            Wriggling her right foot around in its velvety spiked prison, Nancy kicked off her heel behind her and splayed her liberated toes, newly painted the same shade of auburn as her colored hair, against the floor with a soft squeak.  Then, tipping her big toe upward, she teased the digit against the crotch of Scott’s dress pants.

            “N-N-None?” Scott peeped, gulping and trying not to look down at the firm, exploratory toe that was already beginning to get a reaction somewhere deep inside him from the aggressive nudging.

            “None,” Nancy confirmed with a whisper, her eyes wide and wild.

            “I c… I c-can’t.  P-Please, Nancy.  Please,” Scott begged meekly.  He placed his hands on the doughy toe, nearly the size of his head, and tried to push it away, though this only resulted in Nancy applying more pressure between his legs until, with an oxygen-sapping gulp, he was pressed up against the doorframe by her foot.

            “Please-Nancy-please-what?” she inquired.  “How about we just leave that on its own without adding anything.  I like it better.”

            “This is w-wrong.  My M-Mom is coming downstairs in a s-second, she’ll…”

            “Uh-huh.  She’ll what?  What did your beloved mommy do the last time I had my toes on your delicate little cock and balls?” Nancy snickered, pressing a finger to her chin.  “I believe you were a bit smaller at the time, but unless I’m mistaken… just as I was giving you what I’m sure was the best orgasm of your entire life in the very same room, she was just finishing making a point about characterization as it relates to the historical period the book arose from.”

            Scott gulped, knowing this was perfectly accurate with regard to his mother’s former book club from a few years before, and returned no answer, save but a deep grunt as Nancy’s toe dug harder against his pants above his steadily rising member.

            “That’s what I thought,” she declared victoriously.  “Just look at you.  All I have to do is touch you now and you turn on like my favorite battery-operated aid.”

            Trembling harder at this comparison, Scott bit his lips, fighting the urge to recognize the minute pleasure he was experiencing from this exchange, which, despite all the discomfort, embarrassment, and precariousness of the location, was still among the only remotely libido-serving action he’d seen in a month.

            At last relinquishing the pressure on his crotch by pulling her foot back, Nancy set it on the ground with a fleshy slap and leaned over until she could speak in a gentle murmur and still be heard clearly, her hands now perched on her knees.  Scott breathed a sigh of relief, but was also dismayed to find himself physically exasperated by the ceasing of this rather crude game.

            “You act like I’m stringing you upside down over a bed of nails, Scott.  I can’t believe you wouldn’t want someone like me on your side when, the rest of the time, your sister is putting you in doll dresses and blowing it all over her social media.”

            “I…”

            “Listen, I know you’re just so certain your girlfriend hasn’t moved on yet,” Nancy reported, as though the word was made up.  “So think of this as me just keeping you warm enough to still function once you do meet up again.  You wouldn’t want to disappoint her, would you?”

            “N-N-No…” Scott answered against his better judgment, too petrified to think it through.

            “Here’s the thing, and it’s very simple: I like what’s under that pretty little suit of yours.  I want to play with it.  And I always…” Nancy breathed.  “…get what I want.”

            With that, both her hands whipped away from her legs, fingers curled into fleshy claws, and snatched Scott up around the sides like a ragdoll before he had an instant to consider rolling out of the way.

            She rose back to full height, momentarily gripping Scott parallel with her stomach, and then squeezed him against it through the silky fabric of her suit so he had to look up at her triumphant face between the valley of her chest.

            “And the sooner you admit to yourself that you want me to play with you, too, then the better it’ll be for everyone.  After all, it doesn’t have to be all about me,” the woman slurred with yet another wink.

            Clasping Scott more firmly against her stomach, she dragged him up the length of her shirt closer to her face, careful to put extra attention into rubbing his crotch against her right breast before pulling him away and letting him hover just in front of her face.

            Though he was four inches taller since the last time he was in her presence, he was still just as powerless, and Scott could already tell she had won: game, set, and match.

            “The party is in t-twenty minutes… we h-h-have to leave soon, how are…” Scott uttered weakly, becoming putty in the woman’s firm hands, unsure whether he wanted to cry or moan from the sensation now pulsing inside.

            “Trust me, little mister,” she giggled, digging her thumb into Scott’s pants so that his shirt came untucked.  “I’m very efficient.”