The bright lit hotel room seemed to darken. The ceiling turned into the creased underside of Anya’s pale sole as it lowered softly onto my prone body, snatching the light away as it did so. It was painfully cold from touching upon the bathroom tiles while she took a leisurely phone call in front of the mirror. As the sole lifted again, her big toe remained lowered, driving into my ribs a little, bracing itself on my collarbone, just under my throat as she carefully shuffled her other foot to secure her balance. Every time I expanded my chest to breathe the toenail poked in between two of my ribs.
Daily drug patches made my body floppy and unresisting, I felt so weighty, like I was already squished to the floor, and stared at the foot while it played with my body parts.
The drugs also made everything seem new and strange. In my distorted view, Anya had transmogrified into a supernatural creature, a Goddess who lived in clouds on the ceiling, and with bursting adoration, reached down and touched me with her fingertips, sending my miniaturized nerve endings firing and tingling. While the sensation of her toes creeping all over made me feel like a tiny helpless baby being kneaded and massaged by the soft palms of a huge mother figure.
Each day, I became more sluggish, she treated me more like a tiny unmoving object, pincered up in the easy grip of fluorescent cyan-painted finger or toenails, turning me over in her hands and fidgeting with my body parts in her spare time.
As her ‘Beautiful Mistake’ tour carried on, I was nightly given my own private, up close tours of her body.
She still thought I was a good luck charm, and before concerts rubbed my chest and belly like she was polishing a little magic lamp, and finishing the good-luck ritual by planting a black lipstick kiss on my face.
No concert today, it was 'foot rest' day. Her feet still ached from yesterday's concert, and I was lined up to play the rope in a game of tug-o-war between two rival teams: her left foot and right foot.
As the sounds of late night TV dominated the airspace, the undersides of her powdery soft feet dominated my view. They started by tilting my head back and forth, rearranging the positioning of my limbs. The ceiling light seemed to flutter on and off as her toenail edges fanned back and forth in front of my face.
As she adjusted her balance, the big toe lifted off my chest and the soft rounded underside of her second toe – like a ball of pale putty – made an accidental swipe over my face, before stabilizing itself on my brow. I obediently kept my head still, not wanting the icy pressure of the toe to slip and accidentally compress my head. The nail tip dug into my scalp to prevent my head from moving anyway. Soft, cold weight moved back and forth over my face before the second toe lifted, and the big toe settled back onto my upper chest.
For a little longer, she enjoyed the feeling of my warm body nudging up into the bottom of her chilled foot. I was rolled onto my front and sandwiched under the ball of her foot, and then her heel rested on top of my head while she angled her foot up and stretched her toes. The weight wasn’t too bad at first, but after several seconds my head began to pound. It was dismal to feel like I was viewing the world like a marble trapped under a boot.
Once I started to groan and squirm for reprieve, she remembered me again and the pressure mercifully lifted. Then the opposite heel mounted my head. As her toes curled and splayed, the heel vaguely rolled its weight from the back of my head to the front, and each side. My forehead began to pound again as my head welled up with pressure.
When she decided she’d stretched her toes enough, her toenail then poised at my side, slipping in between my ribs to keep me secured. She had started to rely on her toenails as a convenient form of pinning me, lodging one softly against my torso or scalp whenever she repositioned her weight. Her toenails had a tendency of selecting parts which gave her the best grip, and unluckily these tended to be especially sensitive and uncomfortable for me. Her favorite method was to hook in under my ribs or jaw.
I watched with regret as her toe joint rippled with a powerful flex, curling tight, before snapping, out. The flat nailtop acted like a spatula and I was flipped sharply like a pancake, my back slapping onto the carpet.
She collected some white hotel-issue slippers and then a pair of toes groped for my face, plucking me off the ground by my head and stuffed me down the length of the slipper. Insulated in the dim fuzzy toe end, I was suddenly rubbed back and forth against the terry cloth ruffles lining the slipper floor until my body felt raw all over.
Light flashed in and out, and then blackness as a chubby toe pad rudely clapped over my face and held there for as long as possible, filling my head with sweat-rich air. Some minutes went by as I blacked out…
*
Wordless murmuring came in pulses. Then, with a pop, my hearing tweaked, the blood vessels stopped throbbing and the sound switched into background TV chatter.
Thick with the mass and heat of Anya’s now very warm, and slightly sweaty foot, the inside slipper had grown dark. The trapped air was very stuffy, nothing like the cooled Hotel room. My skull felt like it was stuffed with cotton, I was sticky with sweat and bent around the underneath of her toes, adhering to them like squishy gum. The toes shifted around, and every time one of their mass left my side, there was a moist squelch.
As Anya got up from the sofa, and journeyed from kitchenette to bathroom and back to the lounge area, her boisterous walking motions caused my head to slip in between the big toe and second toe, while her third toe pushed down slightly into my stomach, and my dick had incidentally ended up pressed between it and the fourth toe.
Every footstep turned the slipper into an airborne spacecraft that lifted, floated, shot forward, and then crashed with impact, sending recoil through my bones. The thin padding of the slipper floor was barely enough to protect my tiny body from damage. This earth-shattering footstep motion happened again and again. I am attached to a walking foot, I thought.
Not that I could think very clearly. Every time her foot lifted from the ground to take a step, her toes scrunched my head to grip it, to prevent me from bouncing all around the toe section like a pinball. At brisk walking speed, these scrunches came with punishing machinelike persistence, one every half second. My head tingled from having the circulation so forcefully palpated.
She deliberated over a drink in the kitchen area, where the dull weight of her foot settled on me for a few minutes. Her toes shuffled around, probing, rolling me onto my back, then my front, then shifting over my spine, tapping, probably not even aware she was doing it.
Later, her boyfriend came to visit the hotel room. I had since learned his name was Paxton.
He’d brought some food and they sat at the small table by the kitchen and ate. I lay on the tiled floor on my back, staring up at the wood grain running along beneath the table while their chatting voices bounced back and forth across the ceiling while a TV blared.
The ‘conversation’ below the table consisted of the toe knuckle cracks of Paxton’s scrunching toes, and soft taps of Anya’s light blue toenails as they softly raked back and forth over the tiles, as she had discarded the slippers. Flirting and ribbing each other, neither was aware of what their feet were doing, but the sounds and motions were inescapable to me.
Something huge landed on me and the world was squashed down to darkness.
While my head spun with stars, more large objects clambered onto me, linking around my left arm and leg and whipping me out from the grasp of Anya’s pale, cold feet. Now I found myself racing away, dragged by Paxton’s thicker toes, which had tufts of hair on the knuckles, over to his side of the floor.
Anya laughed and her foot sped at me, delicately pinching my waist between her big toe and second toe, and giving me a quick wrench. My body jolted but Paxton’s toes curled tighter, until my limbs started to go numb. Anya’s other foot slammed down on the foot holding me, and the toes loosened. In the same instant, she whipped me back over to her side, and triumphantly arranged her toes along the length of my body to protect it.
The soft bulb of her littlest toe repeatedly positioned and repositioned itself over the terrain of my face. Every time it lifted delicately, the slightly grimy underside of her cyan toenail hovered over my eyes.
The hairy toes returned and started trying to nip at me. The gaps between his toes were darkened by sock fuzz, which emerged into view anytime his toes splayed to grasp me. They also retained the odor of having worn a sweat-drenched sock.
This game carried on as they ate, one foot snatching and dragging me to one side, sliding my tiny body around on the floor out of reach of the other, until inevitably I was snatched back and dragged the other way.
Finally, Anya snatched me and placed the soles of both feet upon my body, side by side, completely covering me from view. Now I was not only holding up the weight of her feet, but her legs as well, and the squeeze this placed on my body was unimaginable. I played the role of a foot cushion for the rest of Paxton’s visit, and only after he left the Hotel room, the weight lifted.
Alone with me again, she began delicately ‘drawing’ on my front and face with the tip of one toe, which tingled my numbed skin. The fact I was lying under the table and couldn’t see her upper half made this even more degrading, like I was a stray piece of inanimate junk that she was absently toying with, something not even worth looking at.
As her toe bumped my erection, she paused, and the moment stretched forever as she decided whether to frustrate or relieve me. She was my sole source of sexual release, and I practically salivated over the promise of her pudgy white toes, like balls of dough, slightly waxy with sweat, kneading and stretching my comparatively small organ. The much larger sole sometimes came in trap me beneath it like a mattress, pinning me until I stopped squirming in sexual agony, so that her toe could carry on milking without struggle.
Feeling that I was aroused, she slid me out from under the table and playfully walked her toes in a creeping motion up to where I lay on my back. Her eyes held on me.
“KISS ME,” she said.
Before I could respond, the underside of her toe loomed in, a broad, flat flesh print easily capable of covering up my entire face. It carefully lined itself up with my head and the world began to shadow over as it lowered...
I turned my head to the side. She flipped my head back with a deft flick of her big toe. I turned my head sideways again. She flipped it back. Now my neck ached, I gave up, watching the toe print draw nearer and nearer. Then the pad alighted upon my head, while Anya drew her calf up gracefully to balance the toe in place. It lifted only to wiggle provocatively against my lips to mimic a long, loving kiss.
* * *
While the tour bus was on the road, I was stored in a mesh pocket of Anya’s duffel bag, and taken into a hotel room later in the day, where I slept overnight. Only, this morning she had left earlier than usual, and forgot to pack me away on the bus, leaving me on my own in the hotel room.
She must have realized and told Paxton put me into the bus, because he entered the room to find me. A new patch was pressed onto my chest, and when that failed to shut me up, he stuck another one on my back, and a third on my stomach, until my reflexes were totally annihilated. Then, after he’d left, I sat on the pillow of Anya’s bed virtually unmoving, her perfume surging through my airways.
Minutes trickled by. My cardio system relaxed to almost the point of arrest. Every fluttering beat was agonizingly palpable. My stomach swooped as I nearly passed out a couple of times.
Some near blackouts later, when the brightness coming through the window had shifted a little, there was knocking at the room’s door. Without hesitation, the lock clunked and footsteps briskly swept in and shifted around the rooms. For some minutes there were rustling sounds. Then the footsteps broke into the bedroom. It was a young woman wearing a maid’s uniform; hotel housekeeping staff.
At first she didn’t notice me. Then she paused and her eyes fixed on me with what seemed to be amusement. She leaned over me, blocking out the ceiling with her bust alone.
For a second I wondered if she’d grab me and take me away for herself, or toss me out with the other trash she was collecting. Instead, her intentions were less malicious, but not less uncomfortable for me.
Her hand reached down, forefinger and thumb separating enough for my head to fit between, and emanating the tang of cleaning agents. The pad of each soft digit took my scalp just above my ears and submitted it to a soft squeeze. She seemed to be discerning whether I was a toy or a freakily realistic model. Seemingly surprised my head was not hollow or squishy and did not collapse like putty, she gave my head another squeeze, this time firmer. Still, my head held up. Intrigued, she drew her fingertips around the top of my head; the pressure ran around until her forefinger touched at the back of my head and the thumb was planted over my eyes. She squeezed again, this time even harder, until my skull tingled. Luckily the drug suppressed pain otherwise it would have been agonizing.
The pressure traced down, stopping on either side of my neck, which was also squeezed a couple of times. The bands of muscle were stretchier than my skull, each squeeze brought her fingerpads very close together. It was not so painful as unpleasant from the feeling of blocked air from my neck down, all down my torso.
Giving my neck a rest, she stroked my tiny abs, tracing and poking the bulk of each abdominal muscle separately with a wandering fingernail. Suddenly her fingertips dropped from my stomach to scoop up my penis just by the tip.
With no erotic intention on her part, it was stretched out to its limit, and then unthinkingly, stretched out even more, as she inspected it dispassionately. Grinding pressure started at the tip as she rolled it back and forth to see it from every angle. The warmth of this pressure climbed up my shaft and lodged inside my balls. Quickly, the bloodflow was banging through my length. The rest of my body was starting to prickle with growing numbness as blood surged into my groin, and the pressure in my head seemed to climb to the verge of agony.
The tip of my penis was pulled sharply upwards, stretched to bursting point so the maid could have a better view of my balls. While her thumb and forefinger kept my penis held up, her pinky delicately angled down to brush back and forth over my sack.
My cardio system had been so neutered by drugs the arousal shuddering through my system felt like it would shake me into pieces. One orgasm and my heart would probably curl up and die, and the maid would never know her idle squeezing and tactile exploration had done it.
I held on for as long as humanly possible, until finally the maid placed me back down on the bed. She disappeared into the bathroom to replace the towels before returning.
This time, she didn’t look at me, but without warning began making the bed. With a whipping motion, the sheet tugged. I went tumbling over the mattress, bounced off the wall and rolled under the bed.
A moment later, the maid’s gigantic face was gazing in at me from the space below the bed, like some fairytale giantess. Next second, her hand thrust under the bed and patted over me. I suffered a jab in the stomach with a probing finger, which quickly decided my stomach would not provide her good grip, and then trailed over my now half flaccid dick. I held my breath, terrified she would grab it to lift me. Instead, she isolated my thigh and tugged, dragging me over the carpet and suspending me upside down meters and meters up in the air.
Her eyes ran up and down my body, giving it one last cursory inspection to make sure I was clean. I was not, and her lips pursued at the flecks of dust and fabric lint stuck on my skin. which now tickled all over from bits of dust and fabric lint that were stuck on my skin.
There was a small, cool sucking sensation across my flesh as the maid inhaled a gale of air and blew it out at me, face on. Her fierce breath came blasting in like a small, hot explosion. Dust specks flew off my body, while I shivered and squirmed weakly, trying to force my head away, but the stormy air was everywhere. As suddenly as it had started, it was over, leaving my eyeballs and nostrils stinging dry.
I was placed back down on the pillow of the now made bed, and the door bumped shut.
Occasionally there were footsteps outside the room, and once some murmuring voices, and later, soft laughter. Otherwise it was quiet.