I'm back in my dollhouse, sitting at my orange plastic dining table. Suzy is sitting across from me, holding my hands in hers and trying to reassure me. I'm dreadfully afraid of something, but I can't remember what. I hear the rhythmic boom of approaching footsteps.
"It's okay, Ray," Suzy tells me, smiling sweetly, oblivious to the ominous thumps that shake the house. "I'm not going to let anybody hurt you."
"But you're small like me," I tell her, suddenly remembering how strange that is. "You won't be able to stop her!"
"Stop who?" Suzy asks. "Cheryl or Naomi?"
"Not them," I tell her. "I can handle them. I'm worried about..."
Suzy stands up. "I swear, I'm not going to let anything bad happen to you." She lets go of my hands and storms out the front door, letting it slam behind her. For several seconds, I'm paralyzed with fear. The footsteps have stopped, which means somebody is out there, waiting for me.
Finally, I rise from the chair and slowly make my way to the front door. I push it open and peer out at the vast expanse of carpet outside. No sign of Suzy, or anybody else for that matter.
I take a tentative step outside and look around. Nothing. But suddenly, I hear Suzy sobbing. I look up and scream as Cheryl's bare foot hovers over me. "The worst thing we can do?" she croaks to an invisible audience as she lowers her foot down on top of me, pinning me to the floor. "I say we kill him."
"You're wrong," Naomi says, peering down at me and smiling. Cheryl's foot moves from me as Naomi nudges her aside. I lie there, helpless and unable to move, as Naomi grasps me between her toes. She wiggles them slowly, grinding me between them. "Why would we want to just kill him? Think of all the things we could do to him."
"You're both wrong," says another voice. Naomi releases me, and I'm lying face down on the carpet. I look up at Rachel Foster, who towers above me with a cold smile on her face. "It's not about doing things to him," she explains, holding out her closed fist. "It's about making him do what we want. Or making him WANT to do what we want."
She opens her fist, palm up, revealing the trembling and sobbing figure of Suzy.
"Ray?" I bolt awake with a scream as something warm and massive touches me. I roll off of my sponge bed onto the glass floor of my newest cage. I scramble backwards from the massive, dark shadow of a hand that looms over me. My breaths come frantically as I press myself against the far glass wall.
"Shh," a voice in the darkness whispers. "It's okay, Ray. I'm not going to hurt you."
Nicole! As my mind races, trying to remember just where I stand with her, she reaches down and envelops me in her warm fingers. She lifts me out of the aquarium and holds me to her face, gently cradling me in her palm.
"Are you okay?" she whispers. "You looked like you were having a bad dream."
I gaze up into her pretty face, barely illuminated by the nightlight in the hallway. For a minute, it's easy to forget that I'm still supposed to be angry at her. Her finger gently presses against my bare chest. "Your little heart is pounding," she says sympathetically.
"Yeah, it was pretty bad," I tell her. "Thanks for waking me up."
"Momma said it wasn't my fault," Nicole says to me. "She said you deserved what you got for tricking me into helping you."
"She said that, huh?" I look up into her eyes and am surprised to see tears. "Is that what you think?"
Nicole shakes her head. "I'm sorry I gave you to Kim," she says in a trembling voice. "And I'm sorry about all the stuff we did to you. And I'm sorry about all the stuff she and her mom did to you when..." Nicole takes a wavering voice and wipes at her eyes with her other hand. "I know you're probably still mad, but I just wanted to say I'm sorry."
Not to put too fine a point on it, I hate her for what she did to me. Not just the acts of physical torture I suffered at the hands (and feet) of her and Kim, but the act of betrayal that led to the whole horrible incident. I put my trust in her hands, and she sold me out.
But I also remember that night in her room when I manipulated her into helping me. In some ways, Naomi is right. No matter how I try to justify it, I did trick Nicole and would have gladly hung her out to dry if it meant getting away from this place.
Besides, with Naomi gunning for me, it would be really nice to have Nicole on my side.
So I stroke her finger and kiss it. "It's okay, honey," I tell her. "I'm not mad at you."
She lets out a relieved sigh and smiles down at me. Then she hugs me gently to her chest. Her skin is warm through the fabric of her Hello Kitty sleep shirt. I can feel her heart beating against my entire body.
For about ten minutes, we remain like that. It's warm and a little uncomfortable, but I'm safe and that's such a rare feeling these days.
Then the front door rattles, and we hear the sound of a key in the lock. Nicole's heart is pounding as she whips me through the air and dumps me back on my bed. "I'll talk to you tomorrow," she whispers as she scrambles up and runs down the hall to her bedroom. I hear her door shut just as the front door opens.
A hulking shape moves through the darkness, slamming the door shut behind it. It stumbles into the dining room and bangs against one of the chairs. I hear the gruff, slurring voice of Paul curse as he staggers into the living room. He plops onto the couch with a painful moan. In a matter of minutes, he's snoring.
I spend the rest of the night dozing uneasily, kept awake by Paul's snores and the lingering dread of my nightmare.
It's late Sunday morning, and the Daltons are eating breakfast.
Paul is miserable, and looks probably about half as bad as he feels. He spent the morning throwing up while Naomi was cooking, and now he's hunched over in his chair, his face unshaven and slack. His fork hangs limply in his hand as he stares palely at the pile of pancakes on his plate.
Nicole is quite sullen, thanks to Paul's foul temper. He's still in the process of making up her punishment, adding conditions to her grounding as he thinks of them. So far, she's banned from watching TV, using the telephone, and visiting friends. Plus, Paul just added the condition that he doesn't want to see her outside of her room except at mealtime. So right now, I'm watching her a little nervously, hoping our mutual goodwill won't deteriorate under Paul's arbitrary punishments.
Naomi comes out of the kitchen carrying my tiny plate between her thumb and finger. Her sandals slap the floor noisily as she approaches. She stops and crouches outside the aquarium, smiling sweetly as she reaches in and sets my plate of pancake shreds on the table.
"Breakfast is served," she announces, her hand hovering over the table like a massive bird. The pink polish on her nails is worn and chipped. I stand defiantly, refusing to sit until she withdraws her hand.
Instead, she flicks at me with an index finger, knocking me backwards. I stumble over the plastic chair and fall to the glass floor with a heavy thud. Naomi chuckles quietly as I scramble to my feet.
"Sorry, sweetie," Naomi says, yanking her hand from the aquarium. "You got in Momma's way." She watches me for a few seconds with an evil grin. Then, finally, she stands up and walks away, joining her family at the breakfast table.
They eat without speaking, the awkward silence broken only by the clink of silverware against the plates. After about five minutes, Paul gives up. He stands up and dabs at his sweating forehead with his wadded napkin. "I'm going back to bed," he announces blearily.
"Back to bed?" Naomi asks with a snort. "I found you passed out like a fucking wino on the couch this morning."
"I got in late," Paul says defensively, for the third time that morning. "I didn't want to wake you."
Naomi rolls her eyes. "Yeah, you're a saint."
Paul sighs wearily. "Make sure Nicole goes to her room when she's done with her breakfast." He shuffles past my aquarium and looks down at me with swollen, bloodshot eyes. "Oh, that reminds me," he says, turning back to Naomi. "Rachel's coming by later this afternoon with Dr. Taylor. They just want to give Ray a checkup and make sure he didn't suffer any damage when he was... you know."
"Rachel's coming by?" Naomi asks, standing and glaring at Paul. "Did you and she decide this last night?"
Paul shakes his head. "Jesus, Naomi. She told me before she left yesterday."
"Bullshit," Naomi snaps. "She didn't say a word about coming back when she left yesterday. Did you see her last night?"
"I'm not going to get into this with you, Naomi," Paul says in the voice of a true martyr. "Despite what you think, some of us still believe in the sanctity of a marriage." Naomi glares angrily, unable to respond. And Paul, having scored the game-winning point, stumbles off down the hallway.
Naomi stands there, chewing her lip, until she hears the bedroom door close. Then she picks up her plate and hurls it against the wall. It bounces off with a loud thump and falls on the carpet, spilling pancake and syrup. "Goddamn fucking smug son of a bitch," she mutters, stomping angrily on the stubborn plate until it finally snaps beneath her sandal.
I can't see Nicole's face from where I sit, but I can only imagine her expression as she stares at her mother's tantrum. The fork falls from her fingers onto the plate and she begins weeping. Naomi stops suddenly and runs over to her daughter, hugging her tightly.
"Oh, baby, it's okay." Naomi clutches Nicole to her. Nicole sobs, her shoulders heaving in Naomi's embrace. "Momma's sorry she got so mad," Naomi says. "I promise, I'm not mad at you."
"Daddy is," Nicole says in a pitiable voice, muffled against Naomi's shoulder. "He's mad at me about Ray."
"I know, sweetie," Naomi says, glaring over at me with utter contempt. "But I know it wasn't your fault. And when your daddy settles down, he'll realize it too."
"But it was my fault," Nicole says. "I almost got Ray killed."
"No, sweetie," Naomi insist, holding Nicole by the shoulders and offering her a reassuring smile. "We discussed this, remember? Ray was trying to trick you, remember? It's not your fault."
I stare through the glass wall, wondering if my fragile alliance with Nicole is about to crumble. Nicole glances over at me, then back at Naomi. "I know it was my fault," she says. "But Ray forgives me, and I think Daddy should, too."
"Ray forgives you?" Naomi asks, glowering at me through narrowed eyes. "When did you and Ray talk, sweetheart?"
"Last night," Nicole says, looking over at me with a tearful smile. "Before Daddy got home." I smile back and wave, feeling relief wash over me. God bless her. Next chance I get, I'm going to give that girl a big kiss.
"So, Ray forgives you?" Naomi repeats, releasing Nicole and stepping back. "That's great, Nicole. I'm glad you two worked things out."
"So, do I still have to go to my room?" Nicole asks.
"No, sweetie," Naomi says. "Just help Momma with these dishes, and then you and me can play with Ray until your daddy gets up."
The leather sole of Naomi's sandal bears down on me, covering me entirely and pinning me against the carpet. My head is turned, and the gritty bottom of her shoe presses against my cheek. I know it's futile, but I push up against her foot with my hands in an effort to free myself.
I can feel the vibrations of her wriggling toes through my entire body as she presses down just hard enough to make me squirm. "On your mark," she says, her voice distant and muffled by the sound of my heart pounding in my ears. "Get set... Go!"
Her foot lifts from me, and I find myself staring up, up, up into her smirking face. She stands with her hands on her hips, dressed in white short shorts and a blousy pink tank top, looming over me like a malevolent goddess of white trash.
"I said, go!" Naomi says with forced cheeriness. Her foot stomps down on the carpet barely an inch from my head. Her toes wiggle slowly and treacherously, making a dry rubbing sound against the thong of her sandal.
I climb to my feet and run in no particular direction, just away from Naomi. I expect her to give chase, but she doesn't. She just claps her hands and giggles. I glance back over my shoulder and see her watching me with a big grin on her face. "Get him, Nicole!" she says.
I look in front of me, too late to avoid stumbling into the side of Nicole's bare foot. I fall backwards and look up hopefully into Nicole's face. Her expression is unreadable, and I feel a moment of sheer terror when she raises her foot and gently lowers it on top of me.
"Nice job, sweetie!" Naomi cheers, clapping her hands. She approaches, the thump of her footsteps growing louder as she gets nearer. "Now, see if you can pick him up with your toes."
Nicole's foot shifts, and I stare up hopefully into her face. She frowns down at me, uncertain, as she works her toes around my waist. "I don't think he likes this," she tells her mom.
"Of course he does, sweetie." Naomi looks down at me with her predatory smile. "Don't you, Ray?"
I shake my head vehemently. "God, no!" Nicole releases me and jerks her foot away.
"Ray, don't be a party pooper," Naomi says, nudging me with the edge of her sandal. "We're just trying to have fun here."
"Stop it, Momma," Nicole says, watching me nervously. "He doesn't like that."
"Nicole Carolyn Ricci!" Naomi snaps, stomping her foot dangerously close to me. "You do what I told you, or you're going to your room. Now grab him!"
Nicole looks down at me with an angry frown, then back at her mother. "Why are you so mean to Ray?" she asks Naomi in a truly hateful voice. "No wonder he wanted to run away."
"Get your ass in your room right now!" Naomi growls, threatening her daughter with a raised hand. Nicole runs crying, stopping in the hallway and turning. She regards me, a worried look on her face, as I lay powerless at her mother's feet.
"Now!" Naomi screams. Nicole turns and bolts down the hall into her room. When the door slams, Naomi glares down at me. I climb to my feet and stare up defiantly, not even flinching when she kneels down and snatches me up in her fist.
I spend the majority of the afternoon face down on Naomi's sandal, with her bare foot resting on top of me. The leather sole is damp and sticky, and the bottom of her foot is uncomfortably warm. The smell and heat are torturous, as is Naomi's constant chatter. Just the same tired diatribe I've gotten from her since I arrived. "How's that feel, little boy? You like it there under Momma's pretty foot?"
But I don't respond. I don't give her the satisfaction of protesting, squirming, or even complaining. I endure the torture, stoic in the knowledge that I've beaten her again, and she knows it.
Dr. Taylor is a sour woman in her forties, with a permanent scowl etched into the sharp features of her face. Her blonde hair is pulled back tight, and she wears tiny wire-rimmed glasses perched on the edge of her beak of a nose.
"Hello, Ray," she says in a voice devoid of emotion, staring down at me in my fish tank. "Good to see you again." She kneels down and rests her fingers on the edge of the aquarium. I can smell her perfume and a slight hint of formaldehyde. "Go ahead and get undressed," she commands me.
I glance past her and see Rachel speaking with Paul and Naomi. Naomi has this totally artificial smile plastered on her face, and talks to Rachel as if they're best friends. Paul looks a little fidgety; it's obvious he'd rather be someplace else.
"I said, get undressed," Dr. Taylor repeats in a stern voice. I know from experience that she'll strip me herself if I refuse to comply. So I slip out of my sweats and underwear and stand naked. She reaches down and grabs me in her dry, leathery hand. There's nothing gentle in the way she handles me; she yanks me into the air with such alarming speed that my stomach has trouble keeping up.
"Where did you get all these bruises," she asks, prodding me with her nail as she rolls me over between her fingers. My body aches dully in her grasp, but her jabbing finger produces a sharp pain that makes me cry out.
"Where do you think?" I ask her rudely. She stands and carries me over to the dining room table. She tilts her hand, dumping me roughly onto the wooden surface. I land in a heap and just lie there, waiting for this to be over.
She takes a seat and opens her black medical bag. Reaching in, she pulls out a small, digital scale. The doctor sets it on the table next to me and taps it with her finger, ordering me onto it. I climb onto the black, rubber surface. Dr. Taylor mumbles to herself as she jots my weight down in her notebook.
The physical continues for half an hour. Dr. Taylor measures my height by making me stand against a ruler, then snatches me up and presses the cold, steel end of her stethoscope against my chest to listen to my heart and lungs. She shines a bright light into my eyes and ears, staring into them with a jeweler's loupe that makes her eye seem comically large.
She pokes and prods me with a massive pair of tweezers and a pointed steel explorer, then uses a gigantic needle to draw blood from my thigh. I scream and curse from the pain as she dabs my wounded leg with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball.
"Are we done yet?" I ask her wearily, dangling helpless between her fingers. She touches my chest with her short, unpainted nail and traces a line down my stomach. She flicks playfully at my genitalia, and almost smiles at my tepid, reluctant erection.
"Done," she announces, standing up suddenly. She carries me back over to my aquarium and drops me onto my bed. Her hand lingers over me for a second, then finally, mercifully, withdraws. I stare angrily at her black, sensible shoes as she walks away from me.
"So, how's our little patient?" Rachel asks, glancing toward me with a friendly smile.
"He's lost weight since the last time," Dr. Taylor says, consulting her notebook. "He's a little bruised and battered, but seems to be in good health. Blood pressures fine..." She flips through the pages, muttering "Fine... fine... good..." Then she looks over at me. "Sexual response is a little slow."
Rachel shakes her head and winks at me. "You just have to know which buttons to push." She takes Naomi's hand and shakes it, playing along with the pretense of their friendship. "We'll get out of your hair now, Naomi."
"Thanks for checking him out, doc," Paul says, offering his hand to Dr. Taylor. She takes it a tad reluctantly. "I'm glad to know he's okay."
"Goodbye," Rachel says on her way out the front door. "See you folks on Wednesday."
Sunday evening passes with tedious trepidation. Paul is snoozing in his recliner, and Nicole is confined to her room. Naomi is sitting on the couch, smoking a cigarette and watching TV. She keeps looking over towards me, smiling cruelly. Occasionally, when she knows I'm watching, she'll make a show of grabbing her discarded sandal with her toes, or rubbing her bare foot vigorously against the carpet.
I have only myself to blame, I guess. I had to defy her and then mock her efforts to punish me. I called her pathetic last night, and told her there was nothing she could do to me that hadn't already been done a hundred times. I'll admit, it was damned satisfying at the time. But unfortunately, it's only strengthened her resolve to make me suffer.
So now, she's spent the better part of the evening trying to think of new ways to torture me. And as soon as Paul goes to bed, I'm sure I'm going to experience every single one of them. Ironically, the waiting is far more agonizing than any of her silly games are bound to be. I just want this over with.
Sometime after nine, Paul finally wakes up long enough to shuffle off to bed. I pace around the bottom of my aquarium, waiting for Naomi's inevitable invasion. At last, she gets up from the couch with a grunt and approaches slowly. In her mind, I'm sure she's a cat stalking her prey. No doubt she imagines me watching her approaching feet with dread and terror.
I stand with my back against the far glass wall of the aquarium, staring up at Naomi as she smirks down at me. "Well now," she says, with mocking affection. "Alone at last."
I sigh, ever the smart ass. "Can we skip it tonight, Naomi? I'm really tired."
She responds by rubbing her bare foot against the side of the fish tank. The glass squeaks as her toes slide along it, leaving a smear of sweat and oil residue. I bite my lip to keep from laughing as Naomi makes little seductive noises with her mouth.
"Naomi," I say, with just the right amount of tremble in my voice. "Please don't do this."
"Why, what's the matter, sweetie?" she asks, her voice high and saccharine. "Momma just wants to play with you." She slides her foot over the top of the aquarium and slowly lowers it in front of me. "Now, why don't you kiss Momma between the toes?"
"Please, Naomi..."
"Not Naomi," she chides me. "Momma." She raises her foot slightly, letting me catch a glimpse of the pale, wrinkled flesh of her sole. "Now, kiss me between my toes, or I'll stomp the shit out of you."
With a weary groan, I approach her foot. I press my face between her toes and brace myself for the inevitable prank. And of course, Naomi doesn't disappoint. Her big and second toe clench around my head, pinching it tightly. I flail and struggle as my nose is mashed hard against her flesh. My face is warm and sticky with blood... not a part of my plan, but definitely an added bonus.
"What's the matter, little boy?" Naomi asks in her baby-talk voice. "Do Momma's feet stink?"
She finally releases me, and I collapse on the bottom of the aquarium, sobbing with reckless abandon. "Stop it!" I scream, flailing and kicking in an insane tantrum. "I can't stand it anymore! Please stop it!"
Naomi stands there, unmoving, watching my fit. I look up at her, with blood and tears on my face, and say in my most pathetic voice, "I'll do anything you want, Momma. Just please don't hurt me anymore." Then I fall to my knees in front of her foot and cover her toes with wretched, desperate kisses. I make sure to smear as much blood on them as I can, just to drive the point home.
"Oh, sweetie," Naomi says, her voice filled with compassion. She reaches down and gently envelops me in her fingers, then lifts me to her face. "Momma's sorry, sweetheart. I was just... you've just been acting like a little prick since you got home."
"I know," I blubber. My nose is still bleeding. I touch my fingers to it and examine the blood on them, pretending to be shocked. "Oh god," I exclaim, then start sobbing again. Such sorrow, such pathos... Naomi's eyes are starting to tear up just watching me.
"Poor baby," Naomi says, cradling me in her palm as she carries me into the kitchen. "Let's get you cleaned up."
"I'm so sorry," I tell her between sobs as she dabs my face with the wet tip of a paper towel. "I don't know why I acted like I did. It's just... with everything that happened at Cheryl's house and... I never thought I would be safe again... and... and..."
"Shhh," Naomi whispers as she wipes the blood from my face. "Hold your head back, sweetie. That'll stop the bleeding."
I tilt my head upward, staring into her massive face. Her eyes brim with tears, and her lips are pursed in a sympathetic frown. There's nothing vengeful or seductive about her now. She just looks sad and tired.
"I'm sorry," she says, stroking me with her index finger. "Momma is so sorry, sweetie."
After my nose stops bleeding, she carries me over to the couch and cradles me gently against her breast, stroking me with her fingers and whispering to me that everything is going to be okay. After about half an hour, she smiles down at me and says, "Feeling better?"
I look up at her with barely open eyes and offer her a sleepy smile. She kisses the tip of her finger, then touches it to my cheek. "Well then, let's get you to bed. We've got to get up early tomorrow."
"Are you taking me to work with you?" I really didn't expect her to change her mind about that, but I did kind of hope. Oh, well.
"You bet, sweetie," she says, carrying me over to the aquarium. She kneels down and gently sets me on my bed. "And tomorrow afternoon, after work, Linda's going to do my toes." She pokes me playfully in the chest with her fingernail. "If you're a good boy, I'm sure she'll let you help."
"I can't wait," I tell her, actually managing a grin.
She stands up and waggles her fingers at me in a childish wave. "Goodnight, baby."
"Goodnight... Momma," I reply. She beams prettily, then walks off down the hall. I listen to her receding footsteps, waiting until I hear the bedroom door close before I snort with laughter.
"Goodnight, Naomi," I chortle. "You enormous, gullible bitch."
Giantess World
Homunculus by Cayce