Scott knew it was too good to be true. It was foolish to hope he could just coast out the rest of the wine hour(s) under Carolyn’s forgiving and, frankly, pleasantly violet-scented feet in her even more pleasingly unrestrictive leather sandals. No, there would be just a little more penance before he was rid of this mildly humiliating but, more importantly, mind-numbingly grating circle of middle-aged titanesses.

            “How are all of you sexy bitches?” Nancy demanded, moving about the room and exchanging cheek kisses with everyone. Scott supposed she fancied herself at least partially French.

            Nancy, despite being the oldest of the group, was still fighting tooth-and-nail to avoid her recent emergence into her fifties. A heavy haze of perfume was already filling out the room. From his vantage point beneath Carolyn’s toes, Scott could still very clearly make out the coat of golden-fake tan that painted up the towering pillars of Nancy’s legs. He could tell she’d been waxed recently, too, as not an inch of her exposed skin seemed to suggest her body was even capable of producing hair anywhere except on top of her head. Her auburn-dyed locks had been seemingly received another boost of color since he last saw her. Her outfit was skimpy on its red fabric and even skimpier on humility, though the woman at least knew how to wear something that was probably intended for someone at least twenty years younger, as it hugged her augmented but nonetheless considerable curves.

            Scott gnawed his lower lip and curled deeper into the curve of Carolyn’s digits, even pressing his forehead against the rotund ball of her foot.

            The woman was absolutely power drunk. Always had been, and probably always would be. She’d stripped him, forced him to lick the undersides of her feet, and in the end hadn’t even been afraid to rape the incarcerated son of her best friend. He hated the sight of her.

            And still Scott felt an instinctive, almost Stockholmian sense of bitter arousal flooding his bloodstream at the sight of her. Which, he realized, made it even easier to hate himself just as much as her. He did even have the self-preserving sense to be frightened of her. That was perhaps the saddest part of all.

            “Sylvia?” Nancy called out with a grin. “Did you get a chance to try out Judy’s little trooper?”

            “Oh, you bet your stars I did,” Sylvia crooned. Even at this distance, Scott could see her cheeks blush as she longingly squinted in the direction of Carolyn’s opposite shoe, probably having forgotten which one he was inside. “I’d love another turn, too, when he’s through over there.”
            “Think you’ve had your fill, Carolyn?” Nancy questioned sweetly.

            “I suppose I have,” Carolyn said. Scott could hear the regret rooted at the base of her words as she reluctantly parted her mature toes from their warm embrace around his sides. The sudden exposure to the open air again made him long for them to return, maybe even for enough time that he could catch a nap. It certainly wouldn’t have been the first time.

            “Got to let the newbie have another try, you know?” Nancy said. “After I’ve had a turn, of course.”

            “That sounds fair,” Sylvia sighed. “Judith, do make sure you let me know little Scott’s schedule, though, if that’s all right.”

            “Of course,” Judy said. “I’m sure Scott would love a break from being around here.”

            A break. Right.

            “You’re sending him out on house calls now, Judy?” Nancy balked playfully, gently shoving the woman in the shoulder with a doubly manicured hand.

            “We’re talking about it,” Judy said slowly, giving her friend a conciliatory nod, but luckily for Scott’s frayed nerves, she didn’t seem to be inviting further discussion of such a possibility for Nancy specifically. “Scott, sweetie, why don’t you come out from under Carolyn and come see us all again?”

            Grunting under his breath, Scott peeled himself away from the grimy though nonetheless emotionally comforting toe-stains that darkened Carolyn’s insole. He clambered back under the leather straps and made himself fully visible again, all three inches, and thankfully clothed as he gazed up at the new arrival to the circle.

            “Hey there, you little Casanova,” Nancy smarmed, her voice already deepening into a sultrier octave. “Come say hello to your Auntie Nancy.”
            Scott tried not to let his disgust twist into his face as he tramped unwillingly toward her. For God sake, she’d pushed his head into her vagina against his will. The least she could do was drop the familial nicknames. Somehow, though, he was willing to bet the idea of being related to the doll-sized boy she’d raped made the whole affair even more thrilling for Nancy.

            “Hello,” he said, eyes locked to her knees. He was afraid if he looked up at her face and its domineering smirk for too long, he’d either get angry or turned on, and it was hard to say which was worse.

            “Don’t just stand there,” she teased, her tongue flicking out the corner of her mouth like a snake’s. She planted both hands on her hips as she shifted weight from one foot to the other. Suction popped in her left stiletto as she tugged her heel free, followed her by slender toes along the insole. “Climb on in and say hello to the girls, too.”

            That was a new one: calling her toes the girls instead of her breasts. Truth be told, though, Scott was far more willing to be mashed up between the woman’s feet than what were most likely her surgically-hardened nipples.

            Eyeing his mother’s staid gaze from afar, Scott nodded as he stepped toward Nancy’s newly unoccupied wearable prison cell. He was still a couple dozen steps away from his destination when he was enveloped by the stench, billowing in ghostly droves from the pits of the woman’s footwear. It was easy to pick out the salty efforts of her latest hot-yoga class, plus some flowery odor-eater that wasn’t doing its job, in the cloud that now surrounded his head.

            Already he knew he’d rather go back to Sylvia, even, than this woman. Hell, he’d take all of them again, in immediate sequence, if it meant he could skip entering Nancy’s heel.

            But, of course, that wasn’t on the table. With some effort, he clambered up the felt tip of the stylish shoe, finding the angle just a little too hard to handle on his own. However, a quick sweep under his legs from Nancy’s swift toes, and he was tumbling down the damp insole and into the pungent darkness.

            “Sorry, hon, just couldn’t help myself,” she giggled, joined in by a chorus of chortles from the wine-buzzed room of middle-aged women. The laughter was quickly swallowed into a wet echo as Scott clunked against the toe-tip of the stiletto.

            He shut his eyes, going through the usual nasal song and dance of blocking out his olfactory instincts. There wasn’t much time to focus on this process alone, though, before Nancy’s toes were dipping into the heel and coming to meet him.

            They wrapped him into their grip with surprising grace, countered only by the strength of her digits as they squeezed him up into a coffin of slick, calloused flesh. Suddenly the difficulty in ignoring the nauseating, overpowering aroma of wilted flowers and old meat was much more difficult.

            Scott endured a few steps of pumping pressure down on his body from Nancy’s toes, though she seemed again to avoid harming him with her weight on his fragile form. It was nice, he supposed, while it lasted. In fact, by the sudden relaxing loss of intense pressure, it felt to Scott in the pithy blackness of his shoe-prison that Nancy had sat down and crossed her leg over her knee, giving him some room to breathe. Not that he especially wanted to breathe in more of her pumiced skin and porous excretions, but some air was better than no air.

            It didn’t take long for Scott to guess why Nancy’s exploratory toes were being so uncharacteristically kind today. As soon as he’d slid into an easy position in space, long-ways around the curve of the ball of her foot, the woman’s digits set to work. They scrunched and prodded, rotating Scott in the dark like a roast chicken in an oven.

            His arms and legs were twisted softly into the folds and crevices of her experienced toes, forcing him to face up against the soupy pad of her big toe, while his legs were squashed purposefully beneath her second and third digits. She had him perfectly spread-eagled, his clothes greasy with her late-May perspiration, and all he could do was inhale against the musky mass of her largest toe.

            Then the real purpose of her complex maneuvers began. Almost independent of one another, her second and third toes, slender and proud as the rest of her, began to grind together. Like fingers dreaming of a major payday, her toes clamped down over Scott’s already tightened jeans. They fondled expectantly, at first just rubbing together, coaxing out a reaction. As damp as the young man’s miniature pants had become with her leaked shoe moisture, plus the repetitive stampings of everyone else present but Carolyn, his hardened member wasn’t hard to locate through the tissue-thin material.

            Reaching awkwardly in the blank void was pointless for Scott; Nancy wasn’t going to give him even the smallest chance of readjusting. If anything, her sole had arched higher in the shoe, forcing the insole against his back to squeeze him tighter and flatter into the curve of her expert toes. He was pressed into a tube shape, his desperate erection raging against his pants, ripe for the woman’s toes to take.

            For a simultaneously grateful and horrified instant, the pressure relented around Scott and the suction popped once again in his ears. Against the blinding backdrop of the patio light that now crept into the shoe over the top of Nancy’s foot, he could just make out her index finger snaking into the tight space.

            “…and I just told them, I’m not taking no for an answer. Judy Stevens is a voice that must be heard by the people in this state, they deserve to hear her, and you’re going to feature her next week!” Nancy explained defiantly. Her limited audience outside clapped, cheering her on.

            Meanwhile, Scott was paralyzed with pre-emptive regret as he watched the woman’s finger slide between two of her toes and locate the beltline of his pants. She didn’t even need to halt her sentences to carry out this last act. With all the lubricant of both Scott and Nancy’s sweat, her fingernail easily slid beneath the fabric and tore them and his underwear away from his legs, leaving his bottom half utterly bare in the shoe beneath her toes. Then the darkness returned as the woman’s thieving finger retrieved his tiny pants from her shoe, allowing her foot to slide fully back in.

            As soon as they were alone again in the sticky darkness of the stiletto, her two toes had his bulge in their fleshy vice. No fumbling at all, just a quick grab and his heart was lodged in his skull as Nancy bestowed a feeling of infuriating euphoria on the young man’s body with the slightest tremors of her leathered toes.

            He might’ve hated the woman’s guts, might’ve hated every cruel word she’d said to him, might’ve hated how aroused her presence was making him, but at the very least, he couldn’t say she wasn’t talented.

            Breaths were coming faster now, weightier in his chest as she pumped. Unable to help it, Scott’s muscles synchronized with the motion of her toes. Soon, he was all but humping up against the woman’s dehumanizing digits. Trapped in blackness, clenched on every side by damp fabric and muscular toes, the huffed pockets of Nancy-flavored oxygen polluted his lungs.

            Scott felt his jaws open, almost as if she’d unlocked something inside him after so little satisfaction for so long a time. His tiny tongue lolled at the corner of his lip, dragged unavoidably along the globe of Nancy’s toe. The spice of her skin washed anew into his throat.

            He heard Nancy’s voice, low and hissed with its poisonous hint of sugar. Then laughter, louder and more consistent than before, rebounded off the walls of the shoe. It couldn’t have just been one joke. Was she giving them a blow-by-blow of this sick little game? Did she tell them he’d licked her toe? Did she tell them her toes were masturbating him in response?

            His baser instincts couldn’t have given less of a shit what she was saying, he was sorry to realize. In this deep, there wasn’t much he was going to accomplish by worrying further.

            Hips bucking a final time, he spasmed into the filthy melee of Nancy’s powerfully squeezing toes. She didn’t let up for a few more minutes afterward, stroking her toes around his sore member, almost taunting him for it.

            Already he was warming up for round two and despising his entire family tree for having conspired to allow for this moment. Miraculously, though, it came to an end. An embarrassing groan escaped his lips just as the light re-entered Nancy’s stiletto, followed by her finger, which casually flicked his pants back into the soiled cell for him to put back on himself.

            “I didn’t know you’d added tongue baths to your repertoire, honey.” Judy’s voice lilted as she eyed her diminutive son down on the carpet after the campaign club had finally departed. Her thick, purple-painted toes grasped at the tassles of the nearby rug. A smirk crept in at the corner of her lips. “You might’ve let me know, hmm?”

            “I didn’t on purpose,” Scott said dryly.

            “She said you were giving her a little service down there. And not for the first time,” Judy reported, cocking her head and combing through her blonde locks with her pinky. “But Nancy does tend to over-exaggerate things…”

            “Yeah. She actually just made me that time in the poolhouse.”

            The woman’s lips thinned as they pursed, her gaze unbroken on the miniature boy at her feet.

            “I see.”

            “Yeah.”

            “Did that bother you?” she asked, genuinely throwing Scott off his game for a moment.

            “Um… kinda, yeah. Yes.” He second-guessed the answer at least three times in the midst of saying it. Did she honestly believe he actually enjoyed licking the giant feet of her giggling wino friends? Or was this just another test, as per usual?

            “I’ll ask her not to anymore,” Judy said, giving a nod that Scott was dangerously tempted to believe.

            “Thanks, Mom,” Scott said, then corrected himself before the woman could rescind her good graces. “Thanks, Mommy.”

            “Of course, sweetie. I’m sorry that day turned out so upsetting for you, and I won’t be letting it happen again,” she said with uncharacteristic honesty in her voice. She lifted her left foot a few inches off the surface of the floor, letting the shadow of her writhing toes cast just a little closer to where Scott stood, then set it down again as she pivoted on her heel to exit the room. “Besides. You know I wouldn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to do.”

            Scott lapped at the stale flavor of Nancy’s big toe still clinging to the roof of his mouth and sighed, unsure whether to feel relieved or repulsed.

            Sure, he didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to do. The trouble was, his mother had a knack for making him want to do things he didn’t want to do.