Mark's heaving, tiny body rested on the cool surface of the coffee table, engulfed in
the shadow of his giantess mother. Marissa watched with some concern as her son
struggled to catch his breath. His skin, red and swollen--much like her own warm, stinky foot--was covered in a slight glistening of sweat. With a smile, Marissa knew the moisture was as likely to have come from her own hot skin as her son's.

After a few moments, Marissa leaned over closer, already smelling the vinegar-odor of
her foot that had been absorbed onto her helpless captive's body.

"Well, Mark…what have you learned tonight?"

Blinking, Mark barely muttered an answer, perhaps afraid of saying nothing. "I've learned it was wrong to be with Megan while you were gone. That it was wrong to
be with her at all. I'm...sorry, mom."

Smiling, Marissa delicately picked up her shrunken son and gently placed him in the soft
skin of her warm palm. Mark remained curled in a fetal position. Marissa hoped she hadn't permanently scarred her son psychologically, but still felt confident that this option had been the best one.

"That's enough for tonight, honey," she cooed as Mark's face started to lighten.  "I think I got my point across."

"So...so we're done? Really done?" Mark asked sheepishly.

"Of course, dear. Let's go to my room so we can fix you."

******************************

Engulfed in his mother's hot, stinky skin, Mark shifted ever so subtly as Marissa arched
her left foot to let the tiniest amount of air to filter into her son's oxygen-deprived prison.

There hadn't been a fix. Marissa had learned that night--much to her chagrin--that
her friend had only provided half of the "medicine"...the other half, assuming it even existed, might have restored Mark but was nowhere to be found. Phone calls to her friend  in Japan went unanswered, and Marissa had begun to wonder if she would ever be able to find her friend again and get the antidote.

Sitting in her office chair, her smelly foot getting warmer by the minute inside the
damp high-heel, Marissa pondered her options. Keeping Mark "underfoot" was easy enough; her body weight was surely painful for her son, but the bigger concern was keeping a steady supply of air to his meager lungs so that her swollen skin wouldn't suffocate him. She wasn’t confident leaving him at home, and simply stashing him in her purse or drawer increased the chances of someone finding him, perhaps getting her into legal trouble she could ill afford.

And so, Mark remained inside the makeshift oven, much as he had for the past three
days since that fateful night when she had decided to teach him a lesson. Signing the documents to release him from school was easy enough, and now she was teaching him a longer lesson that neither she nor Mark would have ever wanted.

A knock at her door interrupted her thoughts. Marissa turned to the door and watched as Megan, Mark's one-time girlfriend and lover, walked uncomfortably into the tiny office.

"Hi Marissa," Megan spoke quietly. "Sorry to bother you again. I know I've called you a lot these past few days, but I'm really worried about Mark. The secretary told me it was okay to come up here and speak to you."

Marissa smiled, inwardly laughing at the irony. Mark is closer than you think, Megan!

Leaning back in her chair, Marissa pretended to be just as despondent. "Sorry, Megan. I haven't heard anything new. The last I saw of Mark, he was joining his aunt for a trip to a South American archeological dig site.  It might be a while before I hear from him
again…very few phones there, you know.”

The sadness was evident on Megan’s face.  Looking at her, Marissa couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of this girl; perfectly coifed blonde hair, an athletic body evident from years of cheerleading, and a face that would make any boy fall in love with her instantly.

Marissa disliked her more than ever.

“Oh, okay,” Megan replied.  “It’s just…I don’t understand why he would leave without telling me.  It’s not like him.”

Inside her shoe, Marissa felt Mark struggling to move, fruitlessly.  She knew he could hear his girlfriend’s voice, and by arching her foot even more, made sure he was attune to the entire conversation.  More punishment wouldn’t hurt.

"If I hear from my son, you’ll be the first to know, Megan.  But, I recommend forgetting about him and moving on.  You’ll find a new boy, what with your cute face and all.”

That seemed to make Megan even more uncomfortable.  “I…guess.  Maybe you’re right.”

Mark struggled to free himself from under Marissa’s massive sole, and for a moment,
she thought that Mark’s tiny voice had actually escaped his personal oven and
floated out into the air.  Taking a quick breath, Marissa relaxed her foot and sealed him deeper into her foot’s sole to avoid any further attempts at communication.

“Well, thanks for everything, Marissa,” Megan said.  With that, she turned and began leaving.

“Bye, Megan,” Marissa said with some pleasure.  Placing the full weight of her foot on her son and leaning very close to his high-heel prison, Marissa quietly reassured her son.

“Don’t worry, honey.  I can tell Megan’s little visit make you a little ‘happy’ down there…mommy can feel these things very easily now.  I have a lunch break coming up, and I promise you can relieve your frustration on my toe again.  And you know what? You get to pick which toe.”

With that, Marissa stood, crushing her helpless son under her stinky foot and strode
confidently into the hall, oblivious to Mark’s muffled cries for mercy.