John struggled to gasp in air, with the pressure of two beefy walls of toe-flesh clamped on either side of his body. The musculature of a single one of those ladylike phalanges overpowered him ten to one, so there was no point in struggling. Only his head was spared the numbing compression of the giant feminine digits. To his right, three other men, equally naked and equally miniscule at one-half inch tall, popped their heads involuntarily out of the tightly gripped toes. Drops of chlorine-scented dew rolled in glistening trails down the olive-hued slope of the girl’s petite foot.
Coco Liu’s opposite ped was positioned the same as she perched on the end of the diving board. Four men resided between her other toes. The twenty-one-year-old swimming champ was focused on one thing, and one thing only: beating her last PR to the opposite end.
It was only by the grace of her tightly pinched toes that the eight men she had held in the doughy thrall of her foot were kept from plunking to the Olympic pool waters far below. Her coach originally insisted on this unusual method to help train the young woman to maintain perfect poise in her feet for speedy motion; it worked so well in practice, it was now tradition for Coco to wear eight shrinkies between her toes like loose jewelry. She was so used to it by now, the girl really only thought of them post-practice, when the coach was lovingly removing the little runts and putting them back in their prison-box.
New to the crew, John was having serious regrets about volunteering to help with “maintenance” at the Olympic natatorium. One second he was signing a contract he’d admittedly only skimmed, and the next thing he knew, his naked body was being pinched between a stranger’s gridded fingertips to wedge him into the famous Chinese swimmer’s lanky digits. He decided it was best not to ask why a replacement member was needed between Coco’s toes, nor why this was allowed in the first place.
With immaculate form, Coco careened into the water, hands pointed into fin-formation. Once in line, she fluttered effortlessly down the lane. Her soft yet athletically-sculpted legs propelled her with impressive determination. The young woman, though of gentle and alluring appearance, was like a machine with a motor attached when she hit the waves.
John sputtered, clenching his every muscle and airway as the assault commenced. The pressure of those olive toes increased tenfold; the flesh paled with effort, making John’s body fully numb. He’d have resented this stinging act, if it wasn’t the only thing keeping him from being lost to the spiraling current. Water rushed past him faster than he thought humanly possible, threatening whiplash with every bobbing passage up and down out of the pool as Coco’s titanic foot fanned to and fro. Despite the slickness of the punching bag-sized digits, John was rooted firmly in place to the cushy crevice the entire way.
Shock rattled the shrunken man’s frame when, in a great breaching splash, Coco hopped out of the pool and hoisted her feet onto the adjoining tile. Her heels balanced the weight of her feet, meaning her toes were still hovering a deadly distance up from the surface. Horrified, and struggling to choke out all the water he’d chugged down his nose during the lap, John did his best to cling to the water-pruned wrinkles in Coco’s pearly skin. Her texture was tender, almost like milk-hardened ice cream, and he might’ve found this unique opportunity to touch her almost enchanting, if it wasn’t for everything about the circumstances.
John gawked as he craned his head to look at the other three men pinched in Coco’s long toes. To his surprise, which was difficult to come by given the already mind-boggling reality, each of the shrinkies was militantly licking the curve of the toe crevice which gripped them so possessively. They were focused in their practice, only removing their tongues from the sopping, chlorine-flavored flesh for long enough to adjust their necks back for another long slurp on their Chinese swimming goddess’s damp and weary toes.
Repulsed, John turned his head away, and instead found himself accidentally staring directly up the loping path of Coco’s leg, past her slick swimsuit, and up to her gigantic face. The young woman had removed her rubber swim cap, allowing her glossy raven-black-hair to cascade down her shoulders. Her piercing amber eyes zeroed straight to John, and though her lips didn’t move to speak, her authoritative and narrowed vision told him all he needed to know. As did the slight twitch in the toes which pulsed around John’s bare body, reminding him that her foot was easily strong enough to snap him like a leaf.
John didn’t need telling twice. He dipped his chin and commenced licking the pudgy surface area of the athlete’s toe cleavage. Bitter chemically-treated water and salty perspiration coursed down his throat. At least this filthy task offered a break before Coco’s next lap.
The new “maintenance” man grimaced as the woman’s toes sealed him back in place, and the crashing waters of the pool drew near.