The day passed with agonizing slowness. At first, I had struggled against my make-shift prison, but it quickly became obvious that her quickly drying sock would quickly crust up to maintain this shape and even if I did manage to escape that, I'd still be in her shoe and possibly on the wrong side of the sock wall to get out. Even if everything went my way, and I got out of her running sneaker, I would've just been on her desk. That was until a short time after her shower, when she returned the sneaker to her closet while humming to herself.
Time was a mystery to me in the prison. There was no light, sounds were dampened by the fabric and the closet door, and all I could really smell or taste was her sweaty feet. After what could have been days or only a few minutes, I heard the closet door erupt open, and the sneaker shifted. The balled up sock was yanked from the sneaker and dropped unceremoniously on the ground.
I immediately wiggled my way out of the sock, and onto the cool wood floor of Jennifer's room. “His first lesson,” Megan's voice boomed, “Should be that he can't do anything without you saying it's ok.”
“Right,” I heard Jennifer's voice reply. There was an enormous pressure that slammed down on my back, as Jennifer said like a god on high, “Did I say that you could get out of my sock, slave?” The pressure stayed on me, while I struggled to breath until after what seemed an eternity it lifted and her foot slammed on the ground next to me.
I took in huge lungfuls of air while I turned to see her foot next to me. Even her foot was perfectly tan, each of her toe nails had a sparkly polished sheen to them. She was wearing a pair of sandals, black leather with a fully encapsulated heel. Jennifer then lifted the front of her foot and brought it hanging above me, “Show me you're sorry, slave.”
As I stared up into the air, I could see the smooth sole of the sandal she was wearing just hovering above me poised to stamp me out. For some reason, I knew what she wanted me to do as she said, “I'm waiting.” Slowly I rose up to my feet, wobbling for a brief moment before planting my hands on the sole, leaning up on the tips of my toes, and kissing the bottom of her shoe. My lips became covered in dirt and grime that I wanted to wipe off as Jennifer pulled her foot away and set it down in front of me.
My eyes scaled up her enormous form. Jennifer was wearing a long, flowing white skirt, and a light black blouse. Her arms and legs were exposed, showing off her beautiful even tan. I turned to see Megan sitting on the empty bed, her jean-clad legs crossed, and I could see she was wearing massive black leather boots with flat heels. Megan looked at me but didn't smile, instead she just seemed to glare down at my small form.
A sound like a fire cracker brought my attention back to Jennifer's enormous form when she snapped her fingers, then said, “Who said you could look at us, slave?” Megan giggled, and Jennifer's foot went back swiftly and then came rushing forward as she kicked me. I sailed across the room and smacked into the side of her bed, before falling with a crash to the ground.
I stumbled up to a standing position, surprised to find that none of my bones were broken despite the immense pain I felt all over my body. My head turned to look at Jennifer as she stomped toward me, each step causing a small tremor across the floor, and I found it hard to imagine that just a few hours ago I thought that she wanted to go out with me and get coffee. I now stood on my feet, and I took a deep breath as I realized this was ridiculous.
I was a person, not the plaything of some rich bitch with a ridiculously even tan. They weren't going to domesticate me like I was some pet that needed to be trained. As I stood between Jennifer's enormous feet, I shouted up at her with all my might, “You can't do this!”
Jennifer's hand was clasped around me in an instant, “What did you say, little man?” On the last two words, she crushed her fingers around my mid-section causing me to yelp out in pain. “I can't do this?” Jennifer asked, no sweetness or cuteness could be found anywhere in her voice, just the sheer strength of our size difference. “Perhaps I haven't been clear enough with you, little guy,” Jennifer said as she took a seat at her enormous desk, “I thought you understood when I compared you to my shoes, and the shoes won. You are nothing to a giant woman like me.” She lifted me to her face and said calmly, “I could swallow you whole, but you wouldn't even be able to fill me up.” Jennifer smirked as she then opened her mouth wide, and shoved me into it.
Immediately my body went into panic mode as I landed on Jennifer's huge tongue. The enormous muscle began to toss me about her extremely warm and humid mouth. She battered me against her white teeth, and I could feel light cuts burst open as I was run against them. I then bounced along her gums, and her tongue came to find me again, rolling around me in a vice like grip as she swirled me about her mouth, coating me in a thick film of her saliva. Just when I thought she was going to swallow me, I could feel the rising sensation of air and saliva that was her spitting me out.
I shot out of her lips, and slammed into the bottom of a tall glass. All around me were thick, smooth, glass walls, and beyond those I could see Jennifer's carefully maintained hands. I stared up as I heard her suck in, accompanied by the disgusting noise of her reaching for the thick mucus in the back of her throat. Suddenly a massive globule of spit and mucus burst from between her plump lips and crashed against me, knocking me into the side of the glass.
“Are you starting to get how fucking insignificant you are, yet?” Jennifer's booming voice asked me as I began to try and shove the spit out of my face, coughing and sputtering as some of it began to enter into my nose and mouth. The glass was handed off to Megan, and I could barely see through the sheen of spit covering my face as she also reared back and launched a mass of saliva onto my body. With apparently practiced precision she landed it across my face, and then giggled while I struggled to breath again. “You are drowning in our fucking spit,” Jennifer said, her enormous voice disembodied by the spit blinding me, “That's how little you are.”
The glass was then upturned and I crashed onto a soft, white, surface. As the surface began to pick up the spit from my body, I began to roll across it as I realized it was a paper towel, losing the spit as I went. As I rolled on to my back, triumphantly clean, I could only stare up at Jennifer's enormous smiling face, “Having a good time, little guy?”
My body froze when her dark blue eyes landed on me, and then she asked, “Are you ready to play by the rules yet, little fella?” Her fingers snatched me up off of the paper towel as she brought me back to the middle of the room and let me drop from her waist. I landed with a crash on the floor by her feet. “I really hope you are,” Jennifer said as she sat down on her bed, and extended her enormous sandals, “Cause I could really use a foot massage.”