"Oh come on sweetie, surely my big, sexy feet aren't that heavy!"

Phil begged to differ. He was currently subdued under his mother's left foot, fighting for his life against her descending sole. The soft, pungent flesh was half a foot from his face and only the utmost strength of his arms and legs was keeping it from overcoming him entirely.

"Remember our little deal sweetie - you manage to push my motherly foot off your teeny little body and you can do the interview sat beside me on this chair." She patted her sundeck daintily. "If, however, you succumb to my sole and get squashed into the floor by your big mom's foot, then you'll be spending our first ever interview lodged straight up my bottom." She suddenly turned to the lady seated opposite her, pen and notebook at the ready and eagerly watching the spectacle opposite her. "Or maybe under that foot, instead. We'll let Lashondra decide that one." Phil's ex-girlfriend, now a successful lifestyle journalist, smiled politely at Mrs. Metzger as she playfully swivelled her foot around her little battling son.

She leaned closer to Debra and whispered conspiratoriously "You know, he looks very overmatched. Has he ever beaten you at this game?"

"Not once." Mrs Metzger smiled proudly. "I do like to play around with him and encourage him to try, but it's important that he know what his place is and one of the best ways of doing that is by this." She said, and suddenly her heel, which was resting against Phil's raised knees, had pushed them apart and had crashed into her minute son's exposed groin, splaying his legs wide open and grounding his lap against the worn wooden decking.

"Nnnnngggrrrhhhh!!" Phil groaned, to his audience's giggles. His face was blood red with effort and the veins in his neck were standing out hideously, but his arms stayed resolute and erect even as his mom's heel crushed his groin painfully. "Oooh, he's still fighting! You're doing very well Phillie!" His mom said sweetly. His ex leaned down and complied "Yes Phil, we're all very impressed with how long you have been able to resist being stood on all over by your own mother." She said flatly, much to Mrs Metzger's amusement. Phil turned to say something at this, but all of a sudden his hand slipped and his mother's face lit up with an "Ooooh!" as she seized her chance. Phil's ex watched from the side as his mother's foot began overtaking his body, her cooing and making baby noises all the while. His hands were doubled over but still trying to hold up the ball of her foot from touching his chest, but they were slowly collapsing under the pressure as his mom's toes repeatedly devoured his head and her massive heel ground relentlessly on his demolished pelvis. 

"Ooh! Ooh! Who's got your head? Who's got your head? Has mommy's big foot got little Phil's face? Hu hu hu hu hu!" 

Mrs Metzger's energetic footplay was rapidly approaching a scene in a sci-fi horror movie. It was like watching an alien life-form attach to the face of a human and watch it energetically mate with it, depriving it's victim of all oxygen in the process. Lashondra noted this down as Phil's arms slowly collapsed to the floor under his mother's constant foot-pressure.

"Ah, that was fun." Debra smiled, as she removed her foot from her defeated little boy. "Oh," she said, as Lashondra stretched out a hand holding a black stilleto heel and proferred it to her, "Made up your mind already have you?" She smiled again, taking it.

"That was ... amazing." Lashondra replied, before holding out a pair of nylon stockings and waggling her eyebrows mischeviously.

"Oh, you naughty girl." Phil's mom giggled as she held them a loft and picked Phil up before dropping him into one leg of the stockings. "Mom," he began in a hurry, trying to get a foothold in the tan mesh of the stockings "mom, mom no, no. You promised no more of this. The smell will be - mmmmnnph!!"

Phil was cut off as Mrs Metzger's foot entered the stocking and her toes latched onto his face, dragging his tiny body back to their lair at the foot of the nylon. "Don't be silly, Phil, it's only for a few minutes. Besides, you lost the game. The loser has to do whatever the winner wants, that's our rule."

"Bmmf mmmmnnphhff-!!"

"Don't talk with your mouth full." She quipped, and stood up straight, pressing fully half her body weight flat on her little son until she felt his soft little form go rigid under pressure. Sitting down elegantly she then proceeded to put on both stilettos and mere rest her heavy, pungent feet all over her little son. Resting her own elbows on her knees and her smiling face on her hands, she then sighed. "Now, what was it you wanted to chat about?"

Lashondra was still staring at the left stilleto Debra Metzger was wearing. She was wearing it so casually but Lashondra knew that right there, inside that expensive black shoe and under his mother's heavy, unconquerable weight was a little boy, her ex-boyfriend, fighting for his life against his mother's feet. "He's really in there." She said breathless. "He just has to take it as you stand on him. Your feet look soft but to him they must be immense, and your in heels so more of your weight is resting on his chest and face. There can't be much room for his nose amongst all your toes and footsmell, he must be barely able to breathe."

Mrs Metzger smiled. "He's been in worse. He's been in my leather knee-boots, my heavy hiking boots, my dancing shoes, the seat of my diving suit ..."

"How did you -?"

"Tied an air supply around his face and attached it to my anus. He can breathe my gas for four hours before passing out now. He gets high as a kite, of course but it's very enjoyable to know I'm supplying my son with his own little drug trips, forcing him to get high. And he's very funny when he's out of it and doesn't know why he's trapped in my bum." She smiled. "Let's see, he's been in my ass, been up my ass, been up my armpits, in the crook of my knee, between my boobs. Been storing him in my mouth and chewing on him a bit - I used to do that one a lot, I think I'm bringing it back now."

"What do you find helps - I mean, what position do you find helps you most with your, um."

"Ah, my legendary decision making skills!" Debra beamed.

"Yes," Lashondra smiled obligingly, "you've become quite famous in business circles for your tough yet fair approach, and an excellent capacity to make the tough decisions needed to keep your business succeeding."

Mrs Metzger wiggled her feet at that. She could feel Phil's little chest rising and falling erratically. He was hyperventilating in her stockings, so she grabbed his face with her toes to steady him. "You're really asking two questions there. The first is when I'm in a meeting and as you implied, have to deal with the tough and stressful decisions. That's when my little stress-toy comes into play. There is nothing more relaxing for a mother to know," she began earnestly, "than that her darling son is at once completely safe and utterly under her control. To know that his body is there, under your foot, because of you and what you achieved and he just has to face the consequences." She slapped her knee to make a point. "At the end of the day, he knows it's an important part of my job and I'm very greatful to have such a compliant son."

"It's not all your pleasure then?"

"Oh heavens no," Mrs Metzger giggled, "after spending a few hours in my shoes he positively leaps up my bum when I get back to my office. That's where I like him when I do most of my brainstorming. Devising long term business strategies, financial plans, marketing ideas - they all come a lot easier when I put little Phillie in my bum." She let Lashondra catch up. "Sometimes I like to change it up - I'll attach the little air-supply I was telling you about and laugh as he gets high, I'll put him on my big, expensive leather chair and just grind on him. Sometimes I like to just tense my glutes into iron-hard boulders and jump up and just bounce and bounce on him until he blacks out."

"Sometimes," and here she whispered very quietly, "I'll keep on doing it even after he's unconscious." She leaned back again and closed her eyes. "It just feels that good. You have no idea. I keep my own darling son in my ass. He'll never have a girlfriend, he makes out with my feet every-night. He'll never go to college - he'll live in my buttcrack forever."

Debra moaned as Lashondra kept scribbling and the sun dipped in the sky. "Mmm, the rest of his life in my bottom. And his sister gets to go and live her own dreams. And he knows there's pretty girls out there, and a life he'll never know. He'll hear children playing, and attractive young girls his age laughing, and he'll imagine their tight young bodies," she grinned, eyes shut, "and then I'll sit on his face and punish him for dreaming about a life he'll never have." She opened her eyes. "How's that for a mother's love." She winked.

Lashondra kept scribbling furiously.

"Any recent developments in your preferences?"

Mrs Metzger thought for a moment. "I've found I quite like having him at full-size now so his face can fit so snugly into my bum." She looked thoughtful. "There were certain things you just couldn't do when he was smaller. He was just a growing boy, so having him chained into my ass would've been nothing special and so I tended to just shrink him and keep him in my butt or shoes. But now he's bigger, well." She smiled, looking down at her foot.

"Having my fully-grown son strapped face-first into my voluptuous ass while his finger are lovingly intertwined with my toes as I walk on his hands, well," she smiled, "it makes a mother feel very big."

The reporter's pen kept on scribbling.

*

Phil was sat on the wooden railing bisecting the pool from the bar. He had recovered from earlier and was wearing a little bathrobe to keep the nip of the night-air away. From here he had an excellent view over the city as the sun set, far between two great hills in the west.

"Remind you of anything?" His mom said warmly, appearing from the bar and leaning against the railing, offering a little glass to him. "A beautiful bright sun going down between two immense, round hills? It's champagne." She giggled.

Relieved, Phil took it eagerly. "So, where am I sleeping tonight?"

Grinning, his mom spun around and pointed exaggeratedly at her wide hips. "M'butt. I'll drop you onto the bed first and you can just crawl in in your own time. But I might need to go to the bathroom in the night and I want you ready for number two's."

Phil looked flushed and nervous. "You know, I was thinking that- that maybe you could try letting me sleep on my own for a change. Maybe just for one night, you know, like I used to. I don't mind if it's in your panty drawer or whatever but sometimes I just miss being my own person -"

"You are your own person."

" - or a girlfriend or a job -" His mom shushed him.

"Phil, sweetie, I love you. But you belong in my ass."

Her son looked downcast and stared bitterly at his drink. "Hey," she said playfully, patting him on the back, "at least it's a killer ass. I mean Helen Parr would kill to have a butt like mine."

"Are you doing the Elastigirl voice?"

"I am, I know you like it." She purred.

Phil sighed, but downed his drink quickly afterwards and looked out again with brighter eyes.

"I could've held you off, y'know." He said. "I'm stronger than I used to be, even if your foot is bigger. I'm stronger and I'll never stop trying. If Lashondra hadn't distracted my I bet I even could've pushed your foot off me."

"Come on Phil," she said to her little son as she patted his head on the patio rail, "do you really think I needed your hands to slip before I stood on your face?"

Phil sighed as he looked out over the city skyline. "I guess not, mom." His mom smiled as she leaned down on the railings with him. It really was a beautiful sunset.