Friday afternoon, and life is good. Suzy and I are sitting out on the patio, watching Kim and Nicole perform the dance routine they've been working on for the past week or so. They stand out on the grass, facing each other and counting with utter seriousness as they go through their moves to some dreadful 'N Sync song.
Once again, Suzy has worn her sandals and seems to be taking great delight in tantalizing me with glimpses of her pretty feet. We're already planning our second date. She wants to take me to a real movie in a real theater, with popcorn and everything.
And as I lie there in her hand, staring idly at her beautiful toes as she gently strokes me, I finally realize that Suzy's right. I do worry too much. I've been living with this sense of dread, but I'm free of any immediate threat. Naomi's still stinging a little from the blackmail, but she's been on her best behavior. Nicole and I are on good terms, and Paul has mercifully kept his distance. And Suzy... well, I still can't believe my luck.
I'm reminded of something Gary used to say at SPECTRUM whenever he was having a particularly bad day. "God may piss down the back of your neck every day of your life, but he can only drown you once." Okay, so it's a disgusting quote, but it's still pretty insightful. So I finally make the conscious decision to stop dreading inevitable disaster, to stop "waiting for the other shoe to drop," and to just accept my good fortune.
Which, of course, is the universe's cue to step in and put its usual end to my happiness.
Paul arrives home several hours early and quite agitated, in the company of Rachel Foster from GenetiTech. Suzy stands up to greet him when he comes out on the porch. He barely acknowledges her, except to tell her she can go home now.
"Are you sure, Mr. Dalton?" she asks. "I promised your wife that I would vacuum for her today."
He nods grimly. "We'll call you if we need you on Monday," he says, his voice a little strained. Rachel stands at the glass door, watching from inside the living room.
"Daddy!" Nicole calls, waving to him. "Wanna see the dance we made up?"
Paul shakes his head. "Kim, can you and Nicole go play at your house this afternoon?"
Kim shrugs. "Sure." She glances at me and grins. "Can we take Ray with us?"
"No, Ray needs to stay here," Paul says.
Suzy carries me into the house, past Rachel, who holds out her hand.
"I'll take him, if you like," Rachel says. Suzy ignore her and carries me to my dollhouse. She kneels down and sets me down at my front door.
"I don't know what's going on, but it sounds like it might be serious," she whispers. "I hope everything's okay."
"I'm sure it is," I tell her with more bravado than I feel. "I figure bad news for GenetiTech is good news for me, right?"
"I hope so," she says. She kisses the tip of her finger, then gently touches it to the side of my face.
I look up into her beautiful eyes, wishing I could say something to keep her from worrying. "You know," I tell her, brandishing a cocky grin, "this would be the perfect time to tell me that you loved me."
She rolls her eyes in mock exasperation. "Well, I was about to, but now you've spoiled it. And if I say it now, you'll just think it was because you told me to."
Her finger is still there, hovering close to my face. I kiss it tenderly and run my hand along her pale green nail. "Well, I still love you," I tell her.
She smiles and touches my cheek again. "As well you should, darling."
About an hour later, Naomi comes through the front door. I watch from my dollhouse as she stops in her tracks, surprised to see Paul and Rachel sitting at the dining table.
"Well, hi there, Rachel," she says cheerfully, dropping her keys and her purse on the table. "Paul should have told me you were coming..."
Rachel interrupts her. "Naomi, how do you know Benny Doyle?"
Naomi's mouth falls open, and she glares over in my direction. I shrug and shake my head, protesting my innocence.
"Uh, I'm not sure I know who you're talking about," Naomi says, obviously lying. Her face is bright red and she's blinking way too much.
Rachel rummages through her attaché, then slams a newspaper down on the table. "Benny Doyle. He's a reporter for the National Mirror, and he seems to have an exclusive story on Ray."
Poor Naomi is stunned, blindsided by so many revelations that her brain is having trouble sorting them. She stares down at the newspaper, her fists clenched, shaking her head. "No," she whispers. "This isn't happening..."
"This is a recent picture," Rachel says, tapping the paper with her finger. "Unless I'm mistaken, it was taken at that beauty shop where you work."
I suddenly remember standing on the counter, being introduced to Benny by Naomi. I remember feeling awkward as he leaned in close, paying way too much attention to me. I also remember the muted click that nobody else seemed to hear. A hidden camera, I realize.
"No," she says, tears streaming down her face. She grabs the paper and begins ripping it up. "No! No! No!"
"It hits the newsstands tomorrow, and there's not a goddamned thing we can do about it," Rachel says sternly. "And it's just chock full of great details about how Paul rescued his son from one laboratory so he could sell him to another. It also contains a vivid and disturbing quote from you about how good Ray feels between your toes."
"Oh, God!" Naomi wails. "This can't be happening!"
"Naomi, pull yourself together," Rachel snaps at her. "I swear, the last thing we need right now is you getting hysterical. What I need to know is, how did Benny come by this information? I'm assuming you didn't knowingly allow him to interview you, but he seems to know an awful lot of explicit personal details about you guys..."
"Were you fucking him, Naomi?" Paul asks angrily. "Were you?"
Naomi is sobbing wildly now, her face buried in her hands. "Oh, God!"
"I can't believe it," Paul shouts, slamming his fist on the table. "How the hell could you do this to me?"
Naomi sobs become a long, lingering cry of pain. "I'm sorry!" she screams, again and again until her voice grows hoarse.
Paul leans back and glares at her, his arms crossed. "Whore," he mutters.
Rachel silences him with a glance, then reaches over to take Naomi's hand. "Naomi, listen to me," she says. "You and Paul can work through all this later. What we need to do now is some damage control."
"I didn't mean to," Naomi cries. "I didn't..." Her protests disintegrate into unintelligible blubbering.
"You didn't mean to?" Paul demands. "So, you what? Tripped and fell on his dick?"
Rachel shakes her head. "Paul, that's enough. We're not going to accomplish anything if you keep talking like that."
Paul seethes quietly, staring at Naomi with utter hatred on his face.
"Okay, the first thing is, you guys have to present a united front. You've got to be a happy, married couple if you're going to get custody of Ray, okay?"
Paul and Naomi look at her as if she's lost her mind.
"I'm serious. GenetiTech will do whatever it takes to help you guys over this bad spot. We'll pay for counseling, send you on another honeymoon, or even spring for an extra bedroom if it comes down to it. But you've got to be married and you've got to be happy about it."
Paul nods, but says nothing. Naomi just stares straight ahead.
"Okay, we're going to take steps to discredit the story. Fortunately, the National Mirror doesn't have a reputation for accuracy, so we're going to get some newspapers friendly to us to run stories exposing the Mirror piece as a fraud. We're also going to file lawsuits against them for libel, just to keep the doubt alive in the public's mind."
Paul nods. Naomi stares.
"Now, this is going to hurt us in one regard. By discrediting this story, we make it much easier for SPECTRUM to discredit the original story that set this whole chain of events into motion. But at this point, we don't have a choice."
Paul nods. Naomi stares.
"Now, what I need to know is, are there any other skeletons I need to know about? Anything else that's going to rear its ugly head between now and the hearing?"
Paul shakes his head and gives Naomi a dirty look. "I've got nothing to hide, Rachel," he says, a tad piously for someone who falls asleep every night drinking whiskey from a giant plastic cup. Naomi just shakes her head and looks down.
"Next order of business," Rachel says, consulting her file. "We have reason to believe that Cathy Miller is back in the picture. I don't need to remind you that if she manages to maintain custody, our deal falls through. Fortunately, her history with drugs and the fact that she abandoned Ray the first time should play into our favor."
My mother! I haven't seen her since I was five, when she - for all intents and purposes - abandoned me to SPECTRUM. Over the past eleven years, I've wonder idly about her. My interests in her were purely academic, since Louise was more of a mom to me than Cathy Miller ever was. Still, it infuriates me to hear Rachel discussing her so callously.
"Okay," Rachel says, closing her file and placing it back in her briefcase. She reaches over and touches Naomi's hand again. "I know this is an awkward time Naomi, but we still need Paul in Midland for a few days. He's going to fly back with me tonight. Maybe the time apart will give you both a chance to... I don't know... collect yourselves and figure out how to deal with this."
"I'll be back on Wednesday," Paul says, standing up. He walks past Naomi, who's still crying softly, and stands behind her. He leans in and says, "Try not to fuck anybody else while I'm gone." With that, he goes to pack, leaving Naomi bawling her eyes out.
It's an uneasy feeling, one that I was stupid to think would go away. Something bad is going to happen. It's only a matter of time.
I've been lying on my bed, watching Pulp Fiction and trying to ignore Naomi's sobbing. She's been crying almost non-stop since Paul and Rachel left, occasionally stopping long enough to light another cigarette or drain another glass of wine. For some reason, I keep finding myself at my window, watching her.
Her sister Debbie is sitting on the couch next to her, holding her and comforting her as best she can. The thing is, Debbie lives with an abusive asshole named Walt, so she's not exactly brimming with pithy observations about the nature of love. I suspect she'd be really happy if her boyfriend left, which is why she's having so much trouble finding the right thing to say to Naomi.
Debbie and Naomi look a lot alike, although Debbie's obviously younger. They're both thin and blonde, although Debbie's hair is long and bleached. She dresses like an extra from Hair... a tie-dyed t-shirt, cut-off shorts, and Birkenstocks. Like Naomi, she'd be a lot prettier if she didn't wear so much makeup. However, I believe the makeup is probably necessary to cover up the bruises that come from living with Walt.
"I didn't mean for it to happen," Naomi is saying in a slurred, exhausted voice. "God, how could I've been so stupid?"
"Shh," Debbie says, stroking Naomi's hair. "Men are pigs, Naomi. They suck."
Naomi pulls away. "Paul is not a pig! God, how could I hurt him like that?"
"I know," Debbie says. "I was talking about that reporter guy." An uncomfortable moment, then, "Do you wanna smoke some weed?"
Naomi shakes her head and puts her face in her hands again. The two of them are just sitting there in awkward silence when the front door suddenly opens, and Cheryl's voice croaks, "Knock knock!" I let out a weary sigh. Now my life is complete.
"Hi, Cheryl," Debbie says solemnly.
"Hey, Debbie." Cheryl walks over and kneels next to Naomi. "How are you holding up, sweetie?"
Naomi says in a pitiable voice, "I'll be okay. I just wish Paul were here so I could explain to him..."
"I know, sweetie. I know." Cheryl pats Naomi on the leg. "Everything's going to be fine."
For some reason, this sets Naomi off crying again. Debbie and Cheryl glance at each other and shrug.
"Where are the girls?" Naomi manages to ask in a choked voice.
"They're fine," Cheryl says. "They're next door, watching a movie. Would you like Nicole to stay with me tonight?"
"Please," Naomi says.
"What about Ray?" Cheryl asks, glancing in my direction. "I could take him home with me tonight, if you want."
Oh, God! Just the thought is enough to make my blood turn to ice water. I hug my arms together and shiver, praying Naomi won't agree to it.
"That's okay," Naomi says, to my overwhelming relief. "Ray's just fine right here."
"Oh, where is Ray?" Debbie asks. "I haven't seen him since I got here?"
"He's in his dollhouse," Naomi says. "Watching a movie or something."
"You want me to go get him?" Cheryl asks, standing up. "You still need to teach the little bastard a lesson for blackmailing you." And suddenly, the ice water is back in my veins. My control over Naomi is gone, and I'm now at her mercy. Dear God, I am so screwed.
"Not right now," Naomi says. "I'll deal with Ray tomorrow. Right now, I just want to go to bed."
"Okay, Naomi," Debbie says, taking her arm. "I'll help you."
"I don't need any help," Naomi says, climbing to her feet and staggering across the living room. "You girls can let yourselves out." She walks by the dollhouse, grinning down at me as she passes. "Goodnight, Ray," she slurs. "I'll see you tomorrow, you little shit." And with that, she totters down the hall to her bedroom.
Well, at least I'm reprieved until tomorrow. Hopefully, she'll be a little more rational and a little less drunk. But no matter how you slice it, I'm probably going to spend some quality time under Naomi's foot tomorrow.
I glance back towards Cheryl and Debbie, who are still sitting on the couch. Cheryl is looking in my direction, and I find myself wondering if she can actually see me in the shadows. She leans over and whispers something to Debbie, who glances towards me and smiles.
Dammit! They're both up and heading for my dollhouse. I look desperately for a place to hide, knowing full well there is none. This isn't a house, it's a fucking cage.
I bolt down the stairs as their footsteps approach. I'm still looking for something to hide behind when I hear someone's hand slap the roof. The entire house shakes and slides away from the wall.
"Come out and play, Ray," Cheryl coos as she rotates my house around, away from the wall. Through the open side, I can see her toes twitching menacingly in her sandals. She steps back and drops to her knees to look for me.
Maybe it's the adrenaline, but I can't stand the thought of just sitting here, waiting for her to grab me. I can hear her hand knocking around my furniture on the upper floor. "You're just making it worse by hiding," she chides me. She leans lower, and her face fills the open space of the fourth wall.
"Peek-a-boo," she says with a predatory smile. "I see you!"
Her hand moves towards me with sadistic slowness, her finger and thumb spreading as she reaches for me. Panicking blindly, I stumble for the front door and throw it open. I scurry through it and plow headlong into Debbie's foot.
"Here he is," she says, sliding her foot out of her sandal and bringing it down on top of me. I squirm against the warm, damp sole of her foot. The smell of sweat and dirt and leather fills my nose and makes me gag.
"Ooh, I bet he did that on purpose," Cheryl laughs. "You like that Ray?" she asks me in a mocking voice. "Are you getting yourself some foot?"
Debbie giggles and presses down slightly. "God, he tickles," she says.
"Try and get him between your toes," Cheryl says. "That's what he really likes."
Jesus, I rue the day that little embarrassing fact became common knowledge. Debbie moves her foot slightly, uncovering my face so I can peer up at her. Then, with a playful grin, she grasps me between her toes and gives me a little squeeze.
"How's that?" she asks me, doing it again before I can answer. Her toenails are ragged and unpainted, and it's obvious she's been wearing those sandals all day. "Am I doing it right?"
"You're doing fine," Cheryl says, kneeling down to watch me writhe between Debbie's toes. "I wish all men were as easy to please as Ray is."
"Yeah," Debbie says with a sigh. "You wanna smoke some weed?"
The first half hour is almost unbearable. The girls sit on the couch and giggle incessantly as they pass me and the blunt back and forth. While Cheryl takes her hit, Debbie rubs me along the bottom of her foot, still giddy with the new sensation of feeling me struggle. When it's Cheryl's turn, she gets a little more creative and actually tries to undress me using nothing but her toes.
The smell of the marijuana is sharp and pungent, overpowering me even as I struggle against Debbie's sole. But after a while, the smell becomes a little more agreeable. Hell, the entire situation becomes oddly agreeable. I even find myself snickering as Cheryl fumbles with me with her toes, trying desperately to remove my shirt. It's an exercise in futility, sort of like picking up a dime in a catcher's mitt, so she finally gives up and decides to strip me by hand.
I'm only vaguely aware of lying naked in Cheryl's palm as her monstrous face looms over me. Debbie's up there too, smiling down at me like some kind of ditzy goddess. She snorts laughter, blowing smoke and spit all over me.
"I think he's stoned," someone, Debbie I think, says in a wheezy voice. It's hard to tell because everything seems to be spinning out of control. I try to ask Cheryl to hold her hand still, but I'm not sure if I get the words out.
A confusing jumble of images, sounds, and sensations. I'm a baby, lying in my mother's palm, but her face is a blur. I smell perfume and cigarettes and I hear her humming a lullaby, only it sounds like it's coming from so far away. I realize I'm naked when she reaches down with a finger and flicks my erection. I scream at her to stop, that it's not right, and she says in Debbie's voice, "Wow, he's pretty far gone."
Girls that are tall get taller, boys that are small get smaller... Nicole drops me in her sock, still damp with her sweat. I feel fingers poking and prodding me through the smelly cotton. Kim's voice, distant and mocking, says, "Let me hold him. I'm gonna give him an organism."
But I'm dumped out of the sock and left lying on a table, surrounded by people. Louise is there. So is Alan. And Gary, and Sally, and the rest of the gang from SPECTRUM. But they're all so sad. Alan is sobbing, just like he did when they took me away. It's disconcerting to see that face, so broad and strong, crying so helplessly. But he blames himself, I vaguely remember. He thinks it's his fault that I'm being taken away. He was in charge of security, and he was away the day Tony took the picture for the National Mirror. "I'll make this right, Ray," he whispers melodramatically, as tears run down his scarred cheek. "No matter what it takes. I swear."
I tell them not to cry, not to worry about me, because I'll be fine. Suzy will take care of me, I tell them as I cling to her foot, covering the soft olive flesh with kisses and marveling at her beautiful pale green toenails.
"Sometimes, people associate sexual feelings with non-sexual objects or body parts," Louise explains sadly. "It's called a fetish."
Somewhere, I hear loud, raucous giggling, but before I can identify its source, Louise reaches over and pushes me in between Suzy's toes. They wiggle slowly, seductively, grinding my naked body mercilessly.
Paul and Naomi and Rachel watch, their faces unreadable. "I'm just glad I saved you from those Nazis, son," Paul says, then bursts out laughing.
Rachel holds up a copy of the National Mirror to show to Naomi. "It also contains a vivid and disturbing quote from you about how good Ray feels between your toes."
"I can think of a hundred worse places for you than between my toes," Naomi says to me as a predatory smile creeps across her face. "You're lucky I don't just stomp the shit out of you." I want to apologize to her, but I can't remember why. I just know she's mad at me and going to make me pay.
Suzy continues to grind me between her toes, and I'm dimly aware of an orgasm. I gasp and shudder, then press my face to the warm, soft skin of her foot. I feel safe and loved...
"Mercy," Suzy giggles, only her voice is all wrong. It's raspy, just like... I glance at the toes that grasp me and see the polish is now an obnoxious shade of pink. I raise my head and see Cheryl watching me, smiling like a predator.
"Sorry, Debbie," she says, giggling as she plucks me from her foot and drops me into Debbie's palm. "I think I used him all up."
I'm driving in my car, not in the living room, but on a wide open road, just zipping towards the horizon. The sun is up and I'm happy because... I guess I'm going home. Suzy's there with me, because my car can seat two people and she's my size which doesn't seem odd to me for some reason.
I gasp as Debbie pinches me between her toes, but then...
Suzy has her feet on the dashboard, showing off her "white trash shoes" for me. It's funny, I tell her. I was playing on your feet just a minute ago, and you turned into Cheryl.
"You sure he likes this?" Suzy says, only it's Debbie and she's squeezing me so hard that I can't catch my breath. I think I'd throw up if I wasn't so goddamned hungry. I want so badly to get back to Suzy, but I don't know where she went and I can't seem to think straight.
It feels like I'm falling...
Reefer madness. Jesus! I wake up lying face down on my sponge bed, naked and really hungry. I try to sit up and wince at the pain in my muscles. Glancing down, I see some really monster bruises on my arms and chest. God, they really worked me over last night. I don't remember much, other than the weird snippets of dreams and hallucinations, and the occasional intrusion of horrible reality.
I look out my window at the living room beyond. It's still dark, but there are hints of light creeping through the blinds. I'm guessing it's probably sometime before seven, which means I can probably look forward to another hour or so of peace before I have to deal with Naomi.
I slip into some sweats and lie back down, trying to ignore my growling stomach. Maybe if I'm really nice, I tell myself, Naomi will make me something to eat before she punishes me.
I awaken from a fitful doze to the sound of the front door closing. I stagger from my bed and run to my bedroom window. Nicole and Kim walk into the living room, disheveled and yawning. Kim plops down on the couch, kicks off her shoes, and grabs the remote. Nicole walks past me on her way to the kitchen.
God, I was hungry before. Now I feel like something is gnawing me away from the inside. The munchies, I think Dana used to call it. I remember her telling me that when she smoked pot, she would start craving pizza, chicken-fried steak, or Cheetohs. Right now, I'd even eat one of Naomi's delicious bologna sandwiches.
So imagine my sheer delight when Nicole walks by me again carrying a box of Lucky Charms. She glances down and smiles when she sees me in the window.
"Hi, Ray," she says, kneeling down to talk to me. "Is Momma okay?"
I shrug. "What have you heard?"
"Aunt Debbie said that Daddy had to go out of town for work, and Momma wasn't feeling good. I think she's gonna come over later to check."
Yippee.
"She'll be fine," I tell Nicole. "She's still asleep."
"Oh." She glances over her shoulder at Kim, sprawled on the couch. "Do you wanna come watch TV with me and Kim?"
My stomach growls angrily when I look at the box under her arm. "Sure," I say, smiling up at her. "Sounds great."
Nicole and Kim eat the cereal a handful at a time, passing the box back and forth between them. I'm curled up on Nicole's chest, munching pink hearts, yellow moons, orange stars, etc. as quickly as she can hand them to me.
Kim, to my relief, is actually almost pleasant company this morning. She isn't terribly upset when I decline her offer to let me play on her feet, and instead contents herself with occasionally teasing me by stretching out her leg towards me and wiggling her toes.
We're all lying there half asleep, watching Scooby Doo, when the phone rings. Nicole grabs me as she sits up and reaches for the phone. It cuts off in mid-ring, before she can hit the Talk button.
"I guess your mom got it," I tell her, feeling a little queasy. I was really hoping Naomi would sleep late today.
About eight-thirty or so, Naomi comes lumbering into the living room in her bathrobe and slippers. Her eyes are barely open and her blonde hair is jutting from her head at strange angles. Her makeup from yesterday is smeared and splotchy.
"What are you girls doing here?" she asks hoarsely. "You're supposed to be over at Cheryl's."
"There wasn't anything to eat over there," Nicole says, holding up the box of cereal.
Naomi nods and rubs her eyes. "Listen, sweetheart. If you answer the phone and somebody starts asking you a lot of questions about me or Daddy or Ray, I want you to just hang up, okay?"
"What's wrong, Momma?"
She shakes her head. "Nothing, sweetie. Just a bunch of nosy people who need to mind their own business." She glares at me when she says this, and the Lucky Charms churn angrily in my stomach.
"Are you feeling better, Momma? Aunt Debbie told me you were sick."
Naomi nods. "I'm okay. I'll feel a lot better when your Daddy gets back into town." She sighs. "I'm gonna go take a shower."
I watch her turn and shuffle down the hallway, relieved that she didn't insist I come with her. I wonder if maybe, just maybe, I might get through this day with my dignity intact.
Giantess World
Homunculus by Cayce