"Wake up, sweetie," Cheryl croons in what passes for her sweet voice, peering into the shoebox. It's daylight and, despite the horrible sleeping conditions, I actually do feel a little better. I sit up and stretch, wincing at the pain of my aching muscles.
Cheryl carries me into the restroom, grinning as I huddle naked in her palm. She's dressed in a red halter and white shorts. Her sandals slap the tile floor with each step. It's a sound that has become all too familiar.
She sets me on the rim of the toilet and stands over me, watching as I urinate over the edge into the chasm of blue Ty-D-Bol water. When I'm done, she scoops me up and carries me into the bedroom. She sits down on the edge of the bed and leans down to set me on the floor.
"You like my shoes?" she asks me, wiggling her toes prettily in her sandals. They're white leather thongs with a narrow strap running across the top of her foot and down into the crevice between her big and second toes. I have to fight the urge to shudder.
"Yeah, they're great," I tell her, wondering how long until I'm between her toes again. I swear, sometimes the suspense is the worst part of this game. Well, no, the worst part is being pinched between her toes. But the suspense is pretty bad.
She sighs and shakes her head. "You don't sound like you mean it," she says in a pouty voice. "I was thinking about you when I bought them."
This time, I do shudder. "No, really," I say as sincerely as I can. "They're really nice."
"I bought them last week," she says, "right before you ran away. I think they look real pretty with my pink toenails."
She tilts her foot towards me to give me a better look.
"They're real pretty," I tell her, ready for this game to be over.
"You didn't even look," she says, poking at me with her foot. "Just tell me if you like them or not, and then we can go call Naomi."
I roll my eyes and glare up at her. "You're not fooling me, Cheryl. I know you're not going to call her."
Cheryl raises her eyebrows and regards me with some amusement. She slides her foot out of her sandal and holds it over me, menacingly. "Or you can just keep smarting off and spend the next hour kissing the bottom of my foot."
"Okay, I'm sorry," I tell her, walking over to her other foot. I touch her toes and run my hand along the leather strap of her shoe. I walk around her foot, kicking at the leather sole. And I make a big show of kneeling so I can admire how prettily her arch sits on the sandal.
"They're gorgeous," I tell her. "I've never seen a more beautiful pair of sandals on a more beautiful pair of feet." I kiss her big toe and step back to look up into her face. I'm scared to death she's going to think I'm being sarcastic and punish me.
But, to my surprise, she's actually smiling. "Well, aren't you just the sweetest, cutest little thing?" she coos. With her bare foot, she taps the empty sandal and says, "Come lay down here."
I eye her warily. "Why?"
"So you can get your reward, silly," she giggles. "Now come here."
I take a deep breath and walk to her sandal on trembling legs. I climb on the leather insole and lie down. Her bare foot hovers above me, her white sole crosscut with a hundred tiny wrinkles. I watch nervously as her toes descend toward my tiny, naked body.
Her big toe presses down gently between my legs, and my idiot penis responds without my consent. For ten minutes, I lie there with my eyes closed, waiting for the molestation to end. She continues to knead my erection with her toe, humming some song to herself. I'm not sure, but I think it might be a Dolly Parton song.
At last, I sputter with a small, anticlimactic orgasm. I shudder a couple of times as Cheryl moves her foot away from me.
"You'll have to do better than that next time," she says. "Now get out of my shoe before you get squished."
We're in the living room, and she's got the phone in her hand. I know she's not going to call. I don't think I've ever been more certain of anything in my life. She just wants to get me excited about the idea so she can yank the carpet out from under me.
But the thing is, I'm not really excited about it. Sure, I consider Naomi the lesser of two evils, but I left a pretty mean note behind when I ran off. And somehow, I don't think she's going to be in the most forgiving mood when I get home.
But it's a moot point, because Cheryl's not going to call.
I'm standing on her coffee table, watching her dial the phone. She's sitting on the couch, her legs crossed, making sure I can see her sandal dangling from her foot.
She dials the number the number and puts the phone to her ear. I watch her skeptically, waiting for this charade to end. She clenches her toes together, bringing the sandal against the bottom of her foot with a slap. She does it two or three times.
"Hello, Naomi?" she says, giving me a triumphant I-told-you-so grin. "I've got some great news, sweetie. I found Ray."
I sigh and shake my head. This is really, really sad.
"Yeah, he's fine. He's right here," she says, tapping the table with her foot. "Yeah, I can do that. Would you like to talk to him?"
She's smiling so smugly. "Okay, I understand. Sure, I'll tell him. Bye bye, sweetie."
She sets the phone down and says, "Your momma wants you to stay with me for a few more days."
I nod. "I see. And why is that?"
"I'm not sure," she says, shrugging. "Something to do with the GenetiTech folk being over there, I guess."
I stare at her, speechless. "God, you can't even bother to make up a decent lie? How fucking stupid do you think I am?"
She leans in close to me. "Don't you ever call me a liar, you little shit."
"You didn't even turn the phone on," I tell her angrily. "I know you're planning on keeping me. Why do we even have to go through this stupid charade?"
"Okay, that's it," she says, snatching me up roughly. She tucks me into her sandal strap and orders me to hold on. "If you let go, I'll break your little fucking legs," she tells me. So I wrap my arm around and cling for dear life.
"Are you happy now?" she asks, then laughs meanly. "What am I saying? Of course you are." She clenches her toes again, bringing the sole of her sandal up to slap the bottom of her foot. Then she lights up a cigarette and leans back, keeping her leg crossed so she can watch me dangle.
My punishment comes to an unexpected end when Kim comes wandering into the living room. Cheryl panics and snatches me from her sandal, tucking me between her breasts. "Be still," she mutters angrily, as if I had a choice. Thanks to "revolutionary cross-your-heart support," I'm being pressed from all sides.
For a few minutes, nobody says a word. Cheryl just sits there, smoking. I'm not sure what Kim's doing, because I can't hear anything over the beating of my own heart.
Except Cheryl's voice. She asks, "You looking for something, sweetheart?"
A few seconds, then Cheryl chuckles. "Whatever you say, Kimmy."
About a minute later, Cheryl plucks me from her cleavage. "That poor girl," she says with a giggle. "She's looking all over for you, but she's scared to say anything about it." It strikes me as a cruel joke to play on her own daughter, but then Cheryl never really struck me as the Donna Reed type.
"Are you going to be good?" she asks me, standing up. I nod, of course.
"Good," she says, carrying me into the kitchen. "Let's get some breakfast."
I spend breakfast dangling from Cheryl's foot, clenched between her toes, eating whatever morsels she hands me under the table. Afterwards, she informs me that she's going next door to see how Paul and Naomi are doing. And just to make sure that I don't try to get away, or that Kim doesn't stumble across me, she drops me into the shoebox and puts the lid on it. I feel it shudder and move as she lifts it and carries it. I don't know where I end up, but there's a brief, horrifying sensation of free falling and the sound of her hand slapping the outside of the box. I'm not sure, but I think she almost dropped me.
It's pitch black and uncomfortably warm, just like it was in Kim's drawer. Cheryl's underwear is still in the box with me, making the air dank and stale. All in all, it's damned unpleasant.
I don't expect anything to come of it, but I make an attempt to dislodge the box anyway. I walk the length of the shoebox, kicking Cheryl's undergarments out of the way, until I have a strip of unobstructed cardboard. Then I count paces from one end to the other. Finally, even though it's too dark to see, I get a running start and try to throw myself against the far end of the box.
The first two times, I veer off course and stumble into the wadded up panties. The third time, my arm brushes against the side of the box and it throws me off. The fourth time, I stay manage to stay on the path. I run headlong, expecting with each step to trip or stumble. It's then that I realize I haven't been counting. I continue to barrel forward, wondering just when...
I smack into the far end of the box and feel the cardboard give ever so slightly. Of course, my head is smarting and I think my nose might be bleeding. Finally, disgusted, I give up on this endeavor. Sweating, dizzy, and bored out of my mind, I crawl onto Cheryl's panties and try to take a nap.
You know what's funny? That feeling of hopelessness, the one that's haunted me since the Daltons brought me home? That feeling is gone. I experienced it pretty regularly when Naomi and Cheryl used to play their games with me. I felt it rather acutely when Naomi got mad and left me hanging in her stockings for a weekend. I was totally immersed in it when Nicole betrayed me and handed me over to Kim. And when Cheryl found me in Kim's drawer, I pierced the veil and achieved hopelessness nirvana.
But now, that feeling is gone. I feel frustration and anger, and a fervent desire to inflict great bodily pain on everybody in the Dalton and Morgan households. And I feel the strong, driving urge to escape and make my way to Suzy.
But most of all, I feel a strange, alien calm. It's like, there's absolutely no way things could be any worse. For the first time since I was taken from SPECTRUM, I've got nothing to lose. Even if my next plan fails miserably, I won't be any worse off than I am now.
So I guess all I really need now is a plan...
Giantess World
Homunculus by Cayce