Judy’s coffee hour had quickly become a wine hour.

            And, from the looks of the ornate pewter-carved clock that hung on the patio wall, it was going to turn into plural wine hours.

            At least, that was the impression Scott had as he peeked awkwardly at the timepiece between the fleshy crevice of a middle-aged woman’s giant bare foot. It was hard to be sure, though.

            This one liked to wriggle.

            Not that he expected any less. This lady was new, he’d decided after he’d been doing his best to stroke her enormous finger-toes for the last fifteen minutes. There were seven women in attendance today, all of whom had toes he’d been introduced to at some point in the past year, except for this one.

            It was possible they’d met when he had a little more size on him, but the young man tended to have a good memory for feet by this point in life, and the woman’s fidgety activity suggested someone who had rarely if ever had the opportunity to pin a shrunken individual beneath the weight of her peds. As did her incessant and childish chuckling at his experience beneath her. No, this was certainly a newbie of some kind.

            The effect was only compounded as her wine glass had been refilled once by Judy, and looked to be getting low again. Her toes grappled a little more aggressively now around Scott’s flailing wrists as he rubbed the meat of her flesh. Plus, her skin was beginning to paint itself with a thin layer of alcohol-inspired perspiration, at least making the job a little more malleable for the young man, if not more unfortunately fragrant of leather and salt.

            “Enjoying yourself, Sylvia?” Judy questioned to the woman currently trampling Scott underfoot. She glanced with false pity down to her son, granting him a knowing and genuinely grateful smile, which he wasn’t quite used to seeing. This new woman must’ve been someone mildly important.

            “Oh, yes! He’s absolutely wonderful, Judith,” the woman apparently named Sylvia said, the remnants of a native southern twang embedded in her vocal cords. Her bulbous toes bunched tighter around Scott’s head at this declaration. “You’ve done a real good job with him. I’ve seen shrinkers who’re kept at double his size most of the time and I’ll tell you something, they can’t do half as good a job as he’s doing now!”

            Scott was back down to a conservative three inches tall now. He knew it was too much to hope for that Judy would allow him to retain all eight inches he’d possessed so proudly this morning. Unfortunately, to her hard-working clique of socialites and campaign workers, Scott was a sort of party favor to sweeten the deal of entering Judy’s house for a development session, and his mother was one who always repaid those she owed.

            “And that goes for you too, hon! I know it’s not just all your Mama’s doing, you being so talented at rubbing a hard-working lady’s foot,” Sylvia said gratefully as she leaned nearer toward the floor, shuffling her broad and shapely hips on the patio sofa. Her heavily manicured finger descended from above, the dark-berry nail polish allowing Scott to just barely make out a distorted reflection of his face between her toes as she gave him a thank-you tussle on the top of his head. “I very much appreciate it.”

            “No problem,” Scott grunted meekly as the ball of her gigantic foot caved down just a little harder on his lower body. At least his mother had allowed him the dignity of wearing clothes at this size before he was tucked under the first guest’s foot an hour and a half ago. Though he’d grown used to being naked in his mother’s company, the embarrassment was always refreshed when he was presented bare and bereft of size to a newcomer.

            Judy raised an eyebrow at his response, making the move in a sudden flash so only Scott noticed.

            “I mean…” he panted. “You’re very welcome, mam.”

            “Oh, Judith! What a sweetie-pie!” Sylvia gushed. She clapped her hands together with delight just before clamping her second toe over Scott’s head. It blotted out his view momentarily and replacing it with the musky dough of her digit.

            The conversation returned smoothly to Judy’s campaign. On the docket today was something to do with contacts in the state news, a couple of upcoming interviews, and a few more subjects difficult to hear beneath an armada of pummeling toes. It mostly made Scott queasy to have to listen to, even in comparison to the lightly sweating car-sized foot he was currently wedged beneath.

            The second bottle of wine was nearly dry, and soon his mother would leave to fetch more, which would intensify the bubbliness of the women in turn. And Scott never counted it as good news to be around anyone even slightly inebriated at this size. So, he simply preoccupied himself with avoiding the pad of Sylvia’s toe coming down against his face, an act she seemed at least subconsciously obsessed with achieving.

            “Listen, hon, if you ever want a vacation from around this place… I could use someone with your talents while I’m at my day job,” Sylvia said brightly, and it took a moment of wrestling her toe out of the way for Scott to realize she was addressing him again. She seemed to be making an effort to part them far enough for him to peep at her through the fleshy valley between the big and second digits.

            “Oh,” he said, wrapping a hand back around the length of the woman’s toeprint. “I, uh… think I’m only cleared to leave the house for a couple hours, three times a week.”

            The room had gone quiet in an effort to hear the boy’s response. It was followed by jovial, booming laughter from the circle of sandaled women all seated above Scott like mid-forties monoliths. Even Judy smiled. Sylvia in particular chuckled hard, her toes bouncing against Scott’s chest and sandwiching him firmly into the carpet imprint her weighty peds had been forming during the visit.

            “Sounds like he’s letting you know his schedule, Sylvia,” one woman said with a wink.

            “That little charmer,” another snickered.

            “Ohh, not too fast. I hear he’s got a little girlfriend. Don’t you, Scott?” Sylvia questioned pointedly.

            “Uhh, yes. I do. Yeah.”

            Another round of laughter was shared by all the regular-sized adults, most of it fueled by the wine rather than any intentional comedic timing on Scott’s part.

            “Well, isn’t that the sweetest,” Sylvia cooed as she gazed down between her thighs and toward Scott, whom she’d finally given a break from beneath her toes. Instead, she planted both mountainous heels on either side of the young man, framing him by her insteps. Her tone suggested she was congratulating a five-year-old on his kindergarten girlfriend.

            “They really are very cute together,” Judy announced. Scott supposed it wasn’t bad, exactly, to hear his mother reaffirm her contentedness with his relationship to Ella from time to time. The word cute was nevertheless off-putting.

            “Still,” Sylvia continued in a lower whisper. “I’m sure your lucky lady won’t mind if I borrow you a few times so you can make a few bucks? After all, I’m not talking anything untoward. It’s just my feet that need the work.”

            “S-Sure,” Scott agreed as he gazed up the fleshy canyon created by her supple calves, towering above him on either side. Out of the corner of his eye and across the vast circle formed by the patio, he could just make out Judy smiling at his answer.

            “We’ll find a way to work his schedule around yours,” his mother said. “Since you seem to have taken a liking to each other.”

            Scott blinked, more intrigued than anxious at Judy’s bizarre admission. His mother hadn’t lent him out to anyone outside the house for four years, and after how that occasion had gone, he didn’t anticipate her doing it much more. Susan’s vindictive smoker’s slur still rang in his ears from that one godforsaken evening, as did the sensation of her toes rigidly compressing him into a slipper against a radiator.

            For Judy to be willing to allow this, there had to be something special about this woman.

            Or, more accurately, something she wanted.

            Which was interesting, however little relevance it probably would ultimately hold for Scott’s life goals. He tucked a mental note between the cogs of his brain to keep his ears open for further developments.

            At least it sounded like he’d be getting paid this time. Which, as soon as he’d thought it, made Scott realize he was just a step away from being a foot-gigolo. He shrugged as he watched Sylvia’s mammoth toes arch up again, wriggling in a kind of devious wave goodbye as the grinning face of the woman was replaced in his sight by the gridded ball of her titanic foot, plastering itself over his entire body.

            Given his life’s current trajectory, it seemed like a pretty natural choice for a career to whore himself out to the wrinkled, bunioned feet of middle-aged women.

            “Could I have a turn, Judy?” a voice from somewhere above asked. It took Scott a moment to place its identity, as sound was now muffled mostly behind recognition as Sylvia’s sole bore around him in all directions, the cusps of her plush wrinkles only occasionally offering a reprieve.

            “Sure, Carolyn,” Judy said.

            Scott sighed, even as he couldn’t quite afford to lose the limited air beneath the mashing machinations of Sylvia’s bare foot. Maybe he could catch a break today.

            With some considerable regret, the sole peeled away from Scott’s clothes, which were now sticky with Sylvia’s summer sweat. He righted himself awkwardly, reorienting to standard gravitational rules and set off at a walk toward the center of the circle.

            The conversation had already resumed with its political planning, leaving Scott to reach his next client without further address, which he was grateful for. He looked up past the towers of bare legs as he passed two of the women and reached the one who sat to his mother’s left, Carolyn.

            A soft-spoken and gentle book-lover, but more importantly a long-time family friend, she had witnessed many of his adolescent shrunken repercussions, and seemed to have developed some pity for him over time, which Scott was certainly grateful for, because most of his mother’s friends didn’t have a sense of compassion beyond that which made them feel jealous when he was massaging another pair of puffy naked feet for too long.

            “Hey, Scott,” she whispered with a kind smile as Scott stood before the altar of her leather sandals, which she still had yet to remove after arriving at the start of the “coffee hour.”

            “Hi, Ms. Ferrell,” he said. His gaze fell to the woman’s toes poking through the front of her stylish footwear, which she seemed to be consciously restraining to a staid state. This, too, he was incredibly grateful for. There were few things as immediately embarrassing as being made to flinch with momentary fright at the sudden movement of a woman’s log-sized toe.

            Slowly, Carolyn’s toes were dragged along the foamy insole of the shoe, the sleek sound of her skin running against the material somehow calming to Scott after the overzealous stint beneath Sylvia. Her heel arched at the opening as she tugged it free of the straps.

            “Do you want to climb in?” she asked soothingly, and in the subtext of her voice Scott could tell she understand that, no, of course he didn’t want to, but it was a far prettier alternative than refusing and subsequently being claimed by another and probably more aggressive member of Judy’s campaign team. She smiled again, her hazel bob cut framing her looming but cheerful expression.

            “Y-Yeah,” he said, stepping forward toward his newest destination. Hand-over-hand, he ducked under the leather jungle gym of sandal straps and crouched over the black, greasy toeprint stains at the tip of the sandal. Then he held his breath, stretching himself out over the length of the five dotted fossils of the woman’s digits. He didn’t have to wait long before Carolyn’s toes delicately covered him up, first shifting him into a breathable position in the cracks before bestowing any weight at all on his fragile body.

            Today, Carolyn had chosen to wear some especially strappy and open-air sandals, which made entry all the easier to contend with. Ordinarily, the women who showed up at Judy’s door with the express intention of depositing a tiny twenty-two-year-old into their shoes chose footwear that required help to enter and, more importantly, help to leave. Just one more thing to control.

            Carolyn, however, had enough sympathy to give him the option to exit if it became necessary: a strangely motherly trait he wished Judy would someday pick up, probably only as a result of a lightning strike and an angel visitor. And Carolyn didn’t even have any kids.

            A solid twenty minutes of lovely break time followed beneath the woman’s toes. Carolyn, yet again acting as Scott’s secret savior, was making a special effort to keep her toes curved over his body like a coffin of flesh. It was warm, certainly, especially as he felt the grit of her insole soaking into his clothes, but required him to bear almost no weight from her foot. Certainly breathing wasn’t difficult. Still, her foot was shoved far enough into the sandal that it gave the appearance of keeping him sandwiched powerfully between sole and leather, which probably appeased Judy. It was a win-win, really.

            Of course, even as he let the minutes tick by in blissful silence beneath Carolyn’s toes, Scott couldn’t help but feel an anticipatory bulge in his throat, expecting one more hurdle to come before this little chore of an afternoon was done.

            The doorbell rang in the front hall, followed swiftly by the swing of the hinges and the domineering clack of implausibly high heels stabbing the tile floor on each mighty lunge forward.

            “Hellooooo, hot mamas!” Nancy Dugan bellowed as she entered the room, raising a cheer of greeting from everyone present, except for Scott, whose heart had already slid into his stomach to roast in the acid.