Judy shook her head, cooing piteously at her son’s clearly dejected form in the palm of her hand.  “Don’t mope, honey.  It’s not so bad.  I wouldn’t give you a job I knew you couldn’t handle.”

                Scott very much doubted that, but knew the sooner he stopped stalling with his glum posture, the sooner he could finally get a moment’s peace after this whirlwind day of catastrophic turns.

                “What is it?” he asked at length.

                Judy cleared her throat, and Scott could almost swear the pitch of her voice was rising as she spoke each word softly and sweetly, like sour candy in her cheek: “Well, you know, Mommy’s been working awful hard to keep you out of jail, Scott.  Lots of extra hours at the firm.  Which meant lots of extra hours in my heels.  And now I’ve gotten a little blister on the mommy toe.  It seems only right you give it some attention.”

                “I… I… okay,” Scott responded dryly, knowing at least what to expect with a request like that.

                “Doesn’t it seem only right?”

                “Yes.”

                “Yes… what?”

                “Yes, Mommy,” Scott groaned as neutrally as possible, swallowing his pride hard.

                “That’s what I like to hear from my special little boy.  See how well we’re working together already?  You’ll be done in no time at all with an attitude like that!”  Judy cheerfully declared.

                No time at all seemed to Scott like an eternity as Judy’s thumb and forefinger plucked him back up from the center of her palm.

                “Here, I’ll show you where I need you to work,” Judy announced as she pinched her little son securely in her fingertips and swept him toward her waiting foot.

                Scott could almost feel his very bones shaking as he was whisked along the terrifying slope of his mother’s tremendous legs that emerged like peachy tree trunks from the endless fuzzy pink landscape of her robe far below.

                Her airplane-sized foot, meaty and powerful as ever in its size 12 glory, glistened aqueously with stray droplets leftover from the shower.  Her creamy skin, bathed in the gleam of the afternoon sun, seemed to come to life with each scrunch of her sole and the ensuing ripple effect of every curved wrinkle down the length of her expansive sole all the way to her thunderous heel.  Her toenails, bedecked with her favorite deep purple shade without a single spot untouched, caught the same streams of light perfectly as the stocky tip of each femininely dexterous digit wriggled with anticipatory delight.

                By default, Scott threw his arms up to catch himself as the vice of his mother’s two massive fingers gripping him on either side of him practically caused a collision with the monstrous big toe.  Although the impact was much gentler than it looked from the speed of descent, Scott’s hands pressed into the tougher flesh of his mother’s toe, the swirling grooves tingling under his touch.

                His entire body was just shy of being as tall as the entire rounded surface of Judy’s bull-sized big toe.

                “Now hold very still.  You’ll need to get closer to get at it well enough.”
                “What?” Scott gasped, confused as to how much closer he could get with his dwarfed hands already on the monumental toe, his chest pressed against it in a forced embrace.

                With practiced tenderness, Judy lovingly inserted her thumbnail-sized son into the fleshy crevice between her big and second toes, until he was jammed firmly into the deepest corner.  Then, gently releasing the grip of her fingers, she began compressing into him with a few twitches of the muscles in her feet, trading off the duty of gripping him from her fingers to her toes.

                Scott grimaced, trying to keep his breathing measured as his mother’s toes sandwiched him like a pair of purple-painted sumo wrestlers.

                At least she had just finished showering, leaving an overpowering aura of sweet lilac hanging around her feet.  Keeping his breathing steady with less oxygen was always tougher when he felt the uncontrollable urge to gag his guts out due to the usual stench of stale stockings and sour toejam concocted into an inharmonious symphony of omnipotent odor.

                Unfortunately, the pleasant scent of a flower garden could do little to aid in the fact that Scott was dangling at what to him was like a couple dozen stories above the carpet, with only the maternal grip of Judy’s toes to prevent him from taking the plunge.

                The situation worsened as Judy slowly and freely leveled her foot, which was still crossed over her thigh, at a horizontal angle, leaving Scott tugged by the terrifying void of gravity from either side of his mother’s stacked toes.

                “Can you feel it down there, Scott?  Can you feel Mommy’s blister?” Judy queried from high above after giving Scott a minute to awkwardly adjust to his precarious position.

                Gasping, and more or less finding an equilibrium for himself, Scott knew this gravitational ordeal would be over much sooner if he could get ahold of himself and satisfy Judy’s not-so-subtly delivered demand.

                He set about examining the massive canvas of big toe that filled his vision.  Given how up close and personal he currently was with his mother’s skin, it didn’t take long to make out the swollen area, blushed with a pinker hue than the surrounding area of rounded flesh.  He ran his fingers over it, feeling the rougher texture to it coming off more like worn down sandpaper against his tiny palm, and the softer give of its slightly inflated state.

                “Can’t hear you, Scott,” Judy commented, bobbing her foot slightly to get her son’s attention.  “I asked if you found it?”

                “Yep!” Scott cried out simply, shutting his eyes and trying not to focus on the vibrating motion of his mom’s toes shaking him to his core.  Grasping at the swollen patch of skin for balance, he began working.  He slid his palms up and down in a steady rhythm, lightly compressing in intervals and digging his fingers down into the bloated blister.

                “Don’t be afraid to press harder, honey,” Judy commented sweetly.  “Your cute little hands aren’t going to hurt Mommy.”

                Scott shrugged, knowing she was right.  At this size, Bruce Lee with a barrel of cocaine wouldn’t have the energy to put a dent in Judy’s monumental big toe.

                Balling his hands into fists, he smacked at the rounded skin with his knuckles like a boxer on an enormous fleshy speed bag, and finally dragged them up and down the blister in firm circles, now officially worried about what fit inside his mother’s definition of “reasonable requests.”