There's a small knot of photographers and reporters standing on the sidewalk when we pull up in front of the house. A single police car is parked in the driveway, behind Paul's car. The beleaguered deputy is standing there, staring bitterly at the dozen or so members of the press. One of the GenetiTech security guys is standing next to him, scowling angrily.
Meanwhile, several other GenetiTech men in dark suits have formed a barrier between the reporters and the house. Their weapons are holstered, but their threat is all too evident. And the reporters, despite their enthusiasm, seem to be keeping a respectful distance from the security team.
"What the hell?" Rachel mutters, looking out at the small throng. I cower in Naomi's palm, staring out at the crowd. I know the windows are tinted and they can't see me, but it's still creepy.
Rachel flips up the armrest and hits speed dial on the speaker phone. The line rings a couple of times, and I see the GenetiTech agent standing next to the deputy answer his phone. "This is Jurgen," comes a harried voice over the speaker. The sounds of the reporters can also be heard in the background, as well as just outside the window.
"Jurgen, what the hell is going on here?" Rachel demands.
"They've been here since this morning," the agent says. "Apparently, somebody let it slip that the Daltons were coming home today. We've kept them away from the house, but local law enforcement won't do anything to disperse the crowd. Says they're not breaking any laws being on the sidewalk."
Rachel sighs. "So how come the deputy is here?"
A pause. "He's here to protect the reporters. Says if we make a move against them, he'll arrest us."
"Okay, Jurgen. Stand by." Rachel hangs up and mashes another button. A generic man's voice answers, "Hello?"
Rachel rubs her eyes with her fingers. "Three nine nine eight seven six four nine seven zero Bravo Zulu Tango," she says in a weary voice. There are a couple of clicks, and another number dials itself.
This time, a woman's voice answers. "Operations."
"Judith, I want you to put me through to the Stasheff Sheriff's Office," Rachel says. "Make sure you get me his direct line. I'm in no mood to talk to Sarah the fucking Mayberry Operator."
Another couple of clicks, and the line rings again. This time, a man with a heavy drawl answers, "This is Sheriff Gordon."
"Sheriff, this is Rachel Foster with GenetiTech. Perhaps you remember our meeting two months ago?"
"Yes, Miss Foster. I remember. What can I do for you?"
"Sheriff, I was assured the complete cooperation of your department for the duration of my assignment."
The sheriff exhales loudly. "Miss Foster, those reporters have a right to be where they are, and they ain't breaking no laws. And..."
"Sheriff, I'm in no mood to debate the finer points of law enforcement, so let me cut to the chase. If you don't tell your man to get rid of those reporters right now, I'll put my team on it. And if anybody makes a move to interfere, I guarantee you my next call with be to Governor Perry."
For several seconds, nobody says a word. Then, finally, the sheriff wearily concedes. "I'll take care of it, Miss Foster," he says, before hanging up.
The deputy is arguing with several of the reporters when three other police cars pull up. The sheriff himself gets out, along with five more deputies. Five minutes later, three of the journalists are in cuffs and being led away. The rest disperse reluctantly, trudging to their cars parked down the street.
Carrying me, Naomi follows Rachel and Paul into the house and slams the door behind her. Nicole immediately runs over to us, all smiles and giggles. She's been enjoying the media circus and basking in all the excitement. Debbie, on the other hand, looks worn out. She's slumped on the couch, massaging her temples.
"Crisis averted," Rachel says, without a hint of sarcasm. "I'll station some additional security just in case, but I'm sure you guys will be fine." She looks directly at me, huddled in Naomi's hands, and smiles her cold smile. "Look forward to working with you in a few weeks, Ray."
The shell flies high into the air, whistling loudly, then explodes in a shower of red and white. The crowd "oohs" and "aahs" appropriately. Nicole squeals excitedly and claps her hands, and I have to grab onto her hair to keep from sliding off of her shoulder.
It's the Fourth of July, three days since I was legally declared the pet, property, and prisoner of the Daltons. And as our first official family function, Paul has brought us to the parking lot of the Wal-Mart to watch the annual Stasheff Chamber of Commerce Freedom Fireworks Extravaganza.
Of course, Paul's first inclination was to leave me at home, which would have made me quite happy. I'm not too wild about crowds, and I really didn't relish the idea of spending the evening with Naomi in a dark, miserably hot parking lot. But Naomi and Nicole both insisted that I come along, and of course Paul relented. Fortunately, Nicole has maintained custody of me for the evening.
Nicole sits on a spread blanket on the hard concrete, cross-legged and staring up at the sky. My dad and stepmother are sitting behind us in a pair of lawn chairs. Ever since we got here, Naomi's been complaining about the mosquitoes and the heat, making a big production of fanning herself with a folded leaflet.
In the distance, a muffled Sousa march plays over a crappy speaker. This patriotic gesture is drowned out by several nearby car stereos that blast competing country/western and classic rock stations. The whole scene already reeks of white trash when, I swear to God, somebody in the crowd starts shouting, "Freebird!"
Another burst of fireworks fills the sky with bright blue streaks and little exploding white stars, and the crowd once again responds with their mechanical moans of approval. Except Nicole, who truly seems to be enjoying herself.
"Momma?" she says, turning around. "I'm thirsty. Can I go get a Coke?"
Naomi ponders for a second. "I'm thirsty too, Paul. Why don't you take Nicole and go get us something to drink?"
Paul sighs wearily as he stands. "Fine. Let's go, kiddo."
Nicole reaches for me and gently takes me from her shoulder, holding me in her cupped palm. "What do you want to drink, Ray? We can share!"
"You'd better leave Ray here, sweetie," Naomi says. "You might lose him in that crowd, and we'd never find him."
Nicole reluctantly dumps me into Naomi's outstretched hand. "We'll be right back," she says to me, almost apologetically. She and Paul shuffle off towards the dimly lit refreshment stand. As soon as they're out of sight, Naomi's fingers close tightly around me.
"Happy Independence Day, little boy," she says with an evil grin as she slides off her sandal and thrusts me between her sweaty, grimy toes.
Just a portent of things to come, I suppose. Ever since the hearing on Monday, Naomi has been working overtime to break my spirit, to make me docile and submissive. And the horrifying thing is, I think she's succeeding.
Thoughts of rebellion seem so distant, so unattainable now, and I'm almost afraid to ask myself how much worse things can get. I remember when I was a prisoner of Cheryl next door and I told myself I couldn't possibly sink any lower. And Cheryl came home one night, drunk and angry and horny, and made a liar out of me.
I also remember my desperate flight for freedom, that terrifying week I spent living like a rat in that house, pursued relentlessly by Cheryl and her daughter Kim. But in spite of it all, there was hope. I wanted so badly to escape, to make my way to Suzy so we could live happily ever after.
I realize now how naďve that dream really was. GenetiTech has invested a lot in obtaining me, and would never allow that to happen. Even now, if I could somehow manage to get out of the aquarium that the Daltons keep me in, I can't endure the thought of another ordeal like that one. I've got no one to run to, nowhere to go. And I'm too weary to resist even Naomi's heavy-handed games.
My spirit is truly broken, and that's the most crushing defeat of all.
I awaken Friday morning to the sounds of Paul and Naomi arguing. I lie there in my aquarium on my green sponge bed, knowing this is going to end badly. Every time they argue, Paul winds up storming off. And Naomi, angry and deprived of a proper release, usually decides to take it out on me.
They're arguing because Paul is going to work, even though his office is supposed to be closed today. Naomi is upset because she was hoping to get started on the packing today, and she fully expected Paul to be around to help.
"It can't be helped, Naomi," Paul says in his patented martyr tone. "They're grooming Olson as my replacement, and they want me to train him. And I need to do it today, while there's nobody else in the office."
"Fine," Naomi says in a voice that clearly indicates that it isn't. "Debbie and I will get started on the packing today. Do you think you can at least make it home at a decent hour tonight?"
"Sure, honey," Paul says. "I'll try and duck out early if I can." He leans over and kisses Naomi on the cheek, then grabs his keys off the dining room table. He heads out the front door, while Naomi stands there, staring after him with her arms crossed.
She slowly turns, and I drop my head and close my eyes, feigning sleep. My heart is pounding and my stomach is knotted, which is pretty much the way I wake up every morning. I can hear her approaching footsteps as her slipper shuffle over the carpet. Maybe she'll pass on by, I tell myself desperately, wondering if she can see my hands trembling. Maybe she'll leave me alone just this once...
I can hear the soft grunt as she kneels down outside the aquarium, and sense her shadow falling over me. I can hear her exhale each breath. Every muscle in my body tenses, bracing for the inevitable touch of her warm, leathery flesh. Please go away, I chant frantically in my mind. Please go away please go away please go away... the words come faster and faster in my head until they're nothing more than a frenzied, pleading buzz.
"Wake up, Ray," Naomi says in a voice devoid of kindness. I turn my head slowly to face her and blink, as if uncertain.
"Huh? What is it, Momma?"
She reaches into the fish tank with alarming speed and flicks me with her index finger, knocking me out of the bed and onto the glass floor. "I said, wake up," she says. "Now."
I climb to my feet and stare up into her emotionless face. "Is... um... is anything wrong?"
She shakes her head, and a dreadful little smile creeps across her features. "It's time for our shower."
I spend the morning shower on Naomi's breast, clinging obediently to her nipple as she lathers, rinses, and repeats. Soapy water washes over me, stinging my eyes and making me sneeze, but I don't let go. I'm determined not to give her an excuse to punish me today.
"I've really missed this," she tells me once we're out of the shower. I'm huddled in the palm of her hand, wet and trembling. She rubs at me with a washcloth to dry me off. "Momma really likes it when we can shower together. Don't you?"
I nod numbly. "Yes, Momma."
"That's good, because we'll be doing it all next week." She rolls me over effortlessly in her hand and rubs the cloth along my back. "You'll be going to work with me, too. It's my last week, and I promised Linda and the girls I'd bring you to the beauty shop. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
My face is pressed against the flesh of her palm, but I manage a muffled, "Yes, Momma." Her finger, wrapped in the washcloth, wipes along my buttocks, playfully violating me.
"I figured you would. I know Linda's dying for a turn with you, and I think her niece Abby might even have a little crush on you." Naomi giggles as she rolls me onto my back. "Too bad we're moving... the two of you might have made a really cute couple."
I cringe at the thought of Abby, and find myself trembling furiously.
"Ooh, you poor little thing," Naomi says. "You're shivering. Let Momma warm you up some." She holds her cupped palm up to her mouth and exhales on me a couple of times. Her breath is warm and the wet smell of spearmint clings to me.
"How's that?" she asks, smiling sweetly. "Better?"
I nod. "Yes, Momma."
"Good." She bends down to set me on the floor, then drops the washcloth next to me. "Now be a good boy and dry Momma's feet."
Abby is Linda's niece - an obese, painfully shy teenager with no sense of hygiene or social awareness. She works part time at her aunt's beauty shop, keeping track of appointments and sweeping the floors. At first, she was inclined to treat me kindly. When she first met me, she petted me and cooed over me like I were a puppy.
But of course, Naomi and the other girls lost no time helping her overcome her initial shyness with me. I spent hours tucked between her acrid breasts or squirming beneath her foul, sweaty foot. And I swear to God, one time she dropped me onto the seat of her chair and sat down on me, carefully so as not to crush me. However, once she had me pinned beneath her monstrous ass, she farted and giggled at my desperate struggles to free myself.
And you know what the really sad part of this whole story is? That's not even the worst thing that's happened to me since I left SPECTRUM. For sheer, soul-numbing torture, the honors still go to Cheryl Morgan next door.
Despite its hellish beginnings, the rest of the morning has been relatively pleasant. I say "relatively" because I've spent most of it on the floor, being buffeted around between Naomi and Debbie's bare feet. But their mood has been more frisky than vindictive, which is a welcome change from the last couple of weeks.
They're sitting at the dining room table, drinking wine and mercilessly toying with me as I scramble along the floor. Debbie showed up about an hour ago with a bunch of boxes and some packing tape, but the girls were quickly sidetracked and haven't managed to get much packing done.
"Where's Nicole, anyway?" Debbie asks, making a playful grab for me with her toes. I dodge and run forward, only to find my path barred by Naomi's foot.
"She went over to Heather's house for a pool party," Naomi says. "Her family's a bunch of rich snobs, but she seems nice enough. They just got back from Europe." Naomi kicks at me, driving me backwards.
"Must be nice," Debbie says. "Have you talked to Cheryl since... you know?"
"No," Naomi says venomously, "and good riddance. To that bitch and her psychotic daughter."
"You don't think you're being just a little harsh?" Debbie asks. Her foot looms over me and slams down on the carpet, missing me by inches. I'm pretty sure that was intentional. "I mean, she sounds like she's really sorry about..."
"You've been talking to her?" Naomi asks, slapping the table. "Why the hell would you..."
"She called me last week, that's all," Debbie says. She sweeps her foot along the carpet until she hits me and knocks me on my back. Before I can get up, she raises her foot slightly and brings it down on top of me, pinning me to the floor. "I mean, she and I got to be pretty good friends when we were... I mean, when you were... you know... during your rough time with Paul."
"Good friends, huh? Did you know she was holding Ray prisoner?"
"Of course not, Naomi!" Debbie says indignantly, mashing me with her foot to make her point. "But you know she's not the one that kidnapped Ray. She just found him. And I know you're mad that she kept him like she did, but... you know. The idea of having this little guy all to myself would be pretty tempting, too."
"I guess," Naomi says with a sigh. "But still, she lied to my face about it. She came over here and held my hand and comforted me, and all the time she had him back at her place." She takes a long sip of wine, then reaches for her cigarettes. "Besides, I think Nicole is better off away from that little psycho bitch Kim. She was a bad influence."
I try to squirm out from under Debbie's foot, but she finally manages to catch me between her toes. She wiggles them slowly, and I gasp at the sensation of gentle friction as she rubs my shirt against my skin. "I just thought you'd want to know that she's sorry," Debbie says, grinding away at me.
"It doesn't matter," Naomi says. "We'll be moving to Midland in a few weeks, anyway. Might as well leave that bridge burned." She takes a drag on her cigarette and looks down at my struggles with an amused smile.
"I guess," Debbie says, then looks down at me as well. I must look quite silly, writhing between her toes as she brings me to a reluctant orgasm. Despite my efforts, an involuntary moan escapes my lips and I blush furiously as the two women laugh.
"Does that feel good, Ray?" Debbie says, shaking her foot a little as she pinches her toes together. Then, to Naomi, "He's really enjoying this."
"Of course he is," Naomi chuckles. "I swear, I never met anybody more obsessed with feet than that boy." She taps off her ashes and sets her cigarette in the ash tray. "Now quit hogging him. Let me have a turn."
"Okay... okay..." Debbie says. She spreads her toes and lets me fall to the floor in a collapsed heap. For several seconds, I just lie there, panting and waiting for my heart to stop pounding.
"Come here, Ray," Naomi says, tapping her foot. "Come to Momma." Obediently, I climb to my feet and stagger wearily to her. I plant a reverent kiss on her toe, and then climb on top of her foot.
"Ooh, good boy," she says, wiggling her toes delightedly. "That's Momma's good little boy."
Debbie sighs. "I swear, Naomi. You are so lucky. I'm gonna miss you guys when you're gone."
"Don't worry, Debbie," Naomi says, her toes still twitching with pleasure as I dutifully scratch the skin above them. "You can always come and visit."
After an hour or so, the bottle of wine is finally empty. Naomi reaches down and plucks me from her foot, then lifts me to her mouth to plant a drunken kiss on me. Her breath is sour with cigarettes and wine, and her lips are sticky, but I accept the kiss graciously and offer her one in return. Anything to keep the mood light.
"You're such a little cutie," she says with a giggle as I dangle between her fingers. "Momma's sorry she's been so mean to you lately."
"I'm sorry I was bad, Momma," I tell her, swallowing all self-respect and dignity. Like I've said before, diplomacy is a must when you're the size of an action figure.
She flashes me a bleary grin, her teeth smeared red with lipstick. As usual, she's wearing way too much makeup. And - I feel it bears mentioning - she put it all on this morning, knowing full well all she had planned for today was packing.
"I'm gonna go get some more wine," she says, standing a little unsteadily. "You wanna go with Momma to get some more wine, sweetie?" she asks me. "Huh?"
"Um, I really need to use the bathroom," I tell her. "Can you... drop me off?"
"Of course, sweetie," she says, then lifts me to her lips for another kiss. She grabs the empty bottle and shuffles clumsily toward my aquarium. "I'm getting a little buzzed," she announces to either me or Debbie. "Probably shouldn't have drunk all this on an empty stomach."
She kneels awkwardly and sets me down in my aquarium. I lie there on my bed and smile up at her, watching her monstrous hand withdraw. She's a bit ungainly as she slowly stands, placing her empty hand against the wall to steady herself. She gives me a mischievous little wave with her fingers, and staggers into the kitchen.
So that's the key to survival with Naomi. All I have to do is keep her drunk, and curl up like a puppy at her feet. If I can just keep that up for the next two years, then I won't have to worry about her taking a lit cigarette to me or stomping the shit out of me.
Two years! Hell, two more days of this, and I'll be begging for a trip down the garbage disposal!
You see, one of the reasons why SPECTRUM came off so badly in the hearing was because of the deal they made with my mother. They offered to provide me with food, shelter, clothes, amenities, and a quality education. In addition, they also offered my mother a generous monthly payment. And all they wanted in exchange was to run some simple tests on me, to chart my growth and development.
I have no illusions about SPECTRUM's benevolence. I know they aren't running a charity, and I know they didn't make that offer to my mother out of the goodness of their hearts. But I have no complaints about the way things worked out. I know my mom was relieved for them to take me off her hands and, when her visits petered out and eventually stopped altogether, I was really happy to have a surrogate family in Louise, Gary, Alan, and the rest.
But the problem lies in perception. As far as the public was concerned, especially after those insidious National Mirror articles, my mother had sold me to a laboratory so they could perform experiments on me. And no amount of arguing to the contrary could shake that image from their minds.
Which is why GenetiTech was careful when they made the deal with my father. According to the terms of their agreement, I'll still live at home with the Daltons. But every weekday, instead of going to school, I'll be picked up and delivered to the GenetiTech labs. Mornings will consist of labwork, where the incredibly creepy Dr. Taylor will perform her daily battery of tests on me, presumably to chart my growth and development, blah, blah, blah. Afternoons will be dedicated to my education.
In other words, it's essentially the same deal my mom had with SPECTRUM. But at the moment, GenetiTech appears to be an organization of benevolent scientists with my best interests at heart, while SPECTRUM comes across as a bunch of slathering Nazis.
If SPECTRUM committed any sin during this whole fiasco, it was severely underestimating GenetiTech, and the lengths to which they would go simply to obtain me. Hell, this has been an ongoing assignment for Rachel Foster. For the past few months, she has been solely dedicated to my acquisition. They even have a codename for me at GenetiTech. They refer to me as "Homunculus."
Everybody at SPECTRUM just called me Ray.
After pissing down my neck for the past two months, the gods of fate have finally decided to cut me a break. Naomi and Debbie have taken their second bottle of wine and gone into the living room, leaving me alone in my aquarium.
Naomi finally convinced Debbie that they should go ahead and get the packing started, so they staggered all the way over to the bookcase, dragging an empty box with them. Several minutes later, the two of them were engrossed in an old photo album and the packing was, once again, forgotten.
"God, look at that wedding dress!" Debbie snorts. "You look like a French whore!"
"Oh, you should talk, you bitch. Nice puffy shoulders on that dress."
"It's a bridesmaid dress! You're the one that picked it out!"
And so on. They continue looking at pictures and shrieking with laughter, and I've obviously slipped their minds. I keep waiting for the good fortune to come to an end, for one of them to look my way and remember they're supposed to be making me miserable.
But they keep laughing and drinking, and before I know it, an hour has passed. The laughter stops, and soon all I can hear is the occasional snore from Naomi. I'm still trying to figure out how to take advantage of this unexpected reprieve when the front door opens and Nicole comes in.
"Hello!" she calls, and I cringe, praying she won't wake them up. She walks into the living room, still in her wet swimsuit and flip-flops, a large towel draped over her shoulders. Her brunette hair hangs damp and stringy, and her face is flushed from being out in the sun.
She spots Naomi and Debbie passed out on the couch and shrugs. She turns to head for her room and sees me in my aquarium. With an excited grin, she hurries over to me and kneels. Without a word, she reaches down for me. I, of course, offer no resistance. The prospect of spending the afternoon with Nicole is the most attractive offer I've had in a long time.
"Thanks for not waking them up," I tell Nicole from atop her nightstand. The tinny voice of Brittany Spears issues from the clock radio next to me. I'm standing with my back to her because she's changing out of her swimsuit and I promised I wouldn't look. I can hear her shuffling around, opening and closing drawers.
"Hey, if I woke them up, Momma would make me help with the packing," Nicole tells me. "Have they been drinking?"
I snort. "Yeah. They got started around noon. I think they made it through two bottles of wine."
"They were looking at wedding pictures," she says. "Momma only does that when she's drunk."
"Which wedding?" I ask. "The one to your father?"
"No," Nicole says, suddenly bounding into view and diving onto her bed. The springs creak softly as she bounces a couple of times. "I think she burned all those pictures. These are the ones from when she married... you know... Paul. Your dad."
She reaches for me and rolls onto her back, setting me down on her chest. Her hand comes to rest just behind me, so I lean back against it. I can feel the warmth of her skin and the beat of her heart through the pink t-shirt.
"So, you're glad they're asleep?" she asks me.
I shrug. "Asleep. Passed out. Whatever. Yeah, I'm glad. Why?"
"You thanked me," she tells me, stroking me with her thumb. "For not waking them up."
"Oh, yeah."
She smiles at me almost dreamily as she gently rubs my chest with the soft tip of her thumb. "How come?" she asks.
"How come what?"
"How come you're glad they're asleep?" She shifts slightly, her smile fading somewhat. "Have they been mean to you?"
I shake my head, and her smile returns with a tinge of relief. "No, not mean. Just... playing with me, you know? I was getting tired of it."
"Right," she says. "Did Momma make you play on her feet again?"
I blush slightly at the straightforward question. "Yeah, she and your aunt both did."
She shakes her head. "And you don't like doing that."
"I don't like being forced to do things," I tell her. "I don't like being treated like a toy." She stops petting me long enough to brush the hair out of my eyes with her thumbnail.
"I know," she says, her smile fading again. "When I think about what me and Kim did to you, it makes me want to cry."
"Hey, it's okay," I tell her, touching her thumb with the palm of my hand and planting a gentle kiss on it. "I told you, we're past that." I give her a reassuring smile. "I mean, hell. Right now, you're about the only friend I have."
The smile returns, but there's something sad about the way her brown eyes look at me. "You're my brother," she tells me. "I won't let anything bad happen to you."
I grin and tickle her tummy through the t-shirt. I know she can't feel it, but the gesture makes her giggle. "I couldn't ask for a better sister, Nicole."
She's silent for a few seconds. Then she says, "I saw Kim over at Heather's."
I sit up, my heart suddenly pounding. "Oh God. What did... I mean... did you talk to her?"
She shakes her head. "I think the only reason they invited me over was to ask me questions about you. Kim was telling them all about how we kidnapped you and kept you as a pet, and about all the stuff we did to you. And about putting you between our toes and giving you organisms."
"Yeah," I say, a little abruptly. "I remember."
"So Heather was asking me to invite her and Amy over, so they could see you. And all I could think about was how mean Kim was to you, and how'd they'd probably be worse, so I told them I wasn't allowed to have anybody over."
She sighs. "So then Kim called me a little baby and told Heather and Amy that the only reason she lost you was because I got scared and told Suzy, and that if I hadn't ruined everything, she would have brought you over so everybody could play with you."
Her eyes are a little teary, but she's not crying. She just looks a little dejected, which is still more than I can bear.
"So they all started calling me baby, and talking about all the horrible things they would do to you if you were there, so I told them all to kiss my a-word and I went in and asked Heather's dad to drive me home."
"Kiss your a-word?" I repeat, smiling.
She grins, a little embarrassed. "Yeah, they laughed at me when I said it. I probably should have just said 'ass.'"
I snort with laughter. "You know what?" I say to Nicole, standing up and walking up her chest, towards her face. "Fuck 'em."
She gasps, delighted at my use of the forbidden word.
"Come on," I tell her. "Say it."
She purses her lips and nods a couple of times, as if letting it build up. Then, in a voice filled with surprising resolve, she says, "Yeah, fuck 'em." She giggles and gives me a conspiratorial smile.
"You're about to leave those losers behind," I tell her. "When you get to Midland, you're going to be the pretty new mysterious girl that everybody wants to know. You're going to have so many friends, you'll forget you ever knew a Heather or Amy or..." I make a distasteful face and say, "Kim."
"You really think I'm pretty?" she asks me.
I walk up and kiss her gently on her chin, and pat it with the palm of my hand. "You know I do, Nicole."
I back away from her, watching her smile prettily and brush her damp hair from her face. For a few minutes, neither of us says a word. She resumes stroking me with her thumb, her eyes practically batting as she regards me.
"Ray?" she finally says, breaking the silence.
"Yeah?"
"You like feet, don't you?"
I look at her, startled by the question. She has this coy, playful smile on her lips. "Nicole, why are we having this conversation?"
She shrugs. "Because you never give me a straight answer when I ask you. I just want to know."
"Know what?"
She looks away shyly. "You know. Do you like playing on my feet?" She's lying with one knee bent straight up, with her other leg crossed and resting against it. I glance over my shoulder and notice her toes wiggling almost unnoticeably as she asks me this.
"Well," I say, "do you like it when I play on your feet?"
"No fair," she laughs. "I asked you first."
"You answer me, and I'll answer you," I tell her.
She actually blushes. "Yes," she says, then giggles. "Remember when you first came here, and I got mad at you and put you in my socks?"
I laugh. "Yeah, I remember. That's a pretty bad example, though."
"Oh, yeah." Her smile fades a bit, and she sighs. "I guess you don't like it, do you?"
"I didn't say that," I tell her, grinning sheepishly. "I just said I hated being forced to do stuff."
She lets out an exasperated sigh. "You said you'd answer me," she says, giggling.
I chuckle and shake my head. "What are you talking about?" I ask her with mock indignation. "I did answer you."
Suddenly, she gets this devilish look in her eye. Her smile is the same as her mother's, only without the cruelty and malice. She reaches for me and picks me up between her thumb and forefinger.
"Okay, fine," she says, still smirking as she lifts me into the air. "How about this? If you don't like playing on my feet, you should probably tell me now."
She holds me, letting me dangle for a few seconds, waiting for my response. When I say nothing, her face lights with pure joy as she gently sets me on her foot. I make a big production of throwing my arms around her big toe and kissing it.
Nicole laughs with delight, and I do too, wishing this moment would never end.
It's a little after four when the door to Nicole's room opens and Naomi regards us, bleary and disheveled. The two of us are on her bed, looking through the latest issue of Teen People. I offer up a silent prayer of thanks that she didn't walk in on us earlier. Last time Naomi caught me and Nicole playing like that, she punished me by making me spend two entire nights in a pair of her stockings.
"Oh, you're home," Naomi says in a creaking voice. "Good. Why don't you bring Ray in the living room and help me and Debbie get stuff packed?"
"Yes, ma'am," Nicole says. She wraps her fingers around me and plucks me from the double page spread of Eminem, and follows her mother into the living room.
"Jesus," Debbie says, rubbing her eyes and shaking her head. "I feel wrung out."
"I guess we had ourselves a little nap," Naomi says, and the two of them share a giggle. At least they still seem to be in a good mood. I might make it through this day with a shred of dignity after all.
"Okay, Nicole sweetie. I need you to start packing up those Precious Moments in the curio cabinet. You'll need to wrap each one with paper towels to keep them from getting scratched. Oh, and wad up some paper towels and tuck them down in between the statues to keep them from banging together when we move the box."
"Okay, Momma," Nicole says, still holding me. She starts to carry me over to the cabinet with her, when Naomi clears her throat.
"Why don't you put Ray down on the coffee table, so we don't have to worry about accidentally stepping on him?"
Nicole gives me a smartass, knowing grin as she sets me down next to the empty wine bottle. I touch her finger surreptitiously with my palm as she lifts her hand away. I watch her walk away, my spirits still high from the afternoon we spent together. I'd almost forgotten how it felt to be happy...
Debbie's bare foot thuds down behind me, her heel striking the table with such force that it knocks me over. I roll onto my back and stare up the length of her thick, wrinkled sole, at her twitching toes far above my head. "Sorry, kiddo," she says with a giggle. "Were you daydreaming?"
"It's okay, Aunt Debbie," I say, remembering to sound submissive and humble. "I'm sure it was an accident."
She shifts her foot and scratches her sole against the edge of the table, making a dry, rubbing sound. The entire table trembles beneath me as she rubs the bottom of her foot up and down on it. Her toes wiggle slowly and playfully, then finally spread apart when they're down to my level.
"So, how about it?" she asks, grinning wickedly. "You charged up and ready to go again?"
Naomi sighs. "Debbie, not now. We've got to make some headway before Paul gets home. He's gonna wonder what we did all day."
Debbie jumps up, startling me with the suddenness of her motion. I suddenly find myself staring straight ahead at her tan leg, so I turn and pretend to be studying the contents of Naomi's ash tray.
"He's not gonna wonder long if he sees these empty bottles," Debbie says, chuckling.
"Shit." Naomi trudges over and snatches the empty bottle off of the table. She then heads into the kitchen and returns with the other. "I'm going to go throw these in the bin before..." She glances over at Nicole, who is dutifully wrapping her horrible little statues in paper towels. "Anyway, I'll be right back."
She slides her feet into Debbie's flip-flops and traipses over to the back door. Just as she opens it, the phone rings.
"Shit," she repeats. "I thought we unplugged that damn thing."
"We did," Debbie says. "I plugged it back in when we woke up."
"Get it, would you?" Naomi heads out the back door and slides it shut.
Debbie plops back down on the couch and snatches up the portable phone. "Hello?" she says cheerfully as she watches me. She places her foot on the edge of the table and wiggles her toes rather emphatically.
"Oh, hey Paul," she says, still glaring at me with an expectant smile. With her other hand, she snaps her fingers and points at her foot. "Nah, we've been packing stuff all afternoon."
I point at myself and shrug, and Debbie responds with a resounding nod. Sighing, I approach her foot and allow her to grasp me with her toes.
"You did? Well, we had it unplugged earlier. Those reporters have been calling non-stop." Her toes wriggle slowly, grinding around me as they did before. Only this time, there's no response. It's not alluring, it's not even accidentally arousing. I feel nothing but disgust and self-loathing for giving her the satisfaction the first time.
"Oh, she had to step outside for a second," Debbie says, leering at me as she continues her clumsy seduction attempt. "She'll be right back."
"What are you doing, Aunt Debbie?" Nicole asks warily, staring at us from across the living room.
Debbie shushes her and points at the phone. "So, you on your way home now? Coz we'd love some dinner if you wanna stop..."
"Aunt Debbie!" Nicole shouts, leaping over a box half-full of Precious Moments and charging towards us. "He doesn't like that."
"Sure he does, honey," Debbie says, then pinches her toes together hard enough to make me yelp. "Don't you, kiddo?"
"No, he doesn't!" Nicole insists, trying to weave around the coffee table to get to me. Debbie kicks up her other leg and presses her foot into Nicole's chest, holding her at bay.
"What?" Debbie says into the phone, squeezing me relentlessly between her toes. "No, your daughter's just upset about something..."
"Daddy!" Nicole screams. "Aunt Debbie has Ray between her toes and she's hurting him!"
Debbie suddenly flings her foot and hurls me to the surface of the coffee table. I land with a hard thump that knocks the air out of me. "No, of course not," she says into the phone, glaring angrily at Nicole. "She's just mad because Naomi's making her work."
Nicole bats Debbie's foot aside and snatches me up from the table. I'm still gasping, struggling for breath as I look up into her beautiful, concerned face. She rubs my chest gently with her fingers, as if trying to massage the air back into my lungs.
"You are?" Debbie sits up and leans forward, still giving me and Nicole the evil eye. "Okay, Paul. I'll give her the message. Bye." She hangs up and tosses the phone onto the couch. Then she stands up and puts her hands on her hips. "You little snitch," she says to Naomi. "Why are you trying to get me in trouble?"
"He doesn't like it when people do that to him," Nicole insists defiantly.
Debbie snorts. "Of course he does. He liked it just fine when I did it to him earlier. Right, Ray?"
I get enough air in my lungs to manage a weak and croaky "No."
"You little liar," Debbie snarls, and suddenly snatches for me. "Give him back to me."
"No!" Nicole says, backing away. "You leave him alone."
"I said, give him to me! Right now!" Debbie lunges for Nicole, who screams and bolts towards her room. She's barely cleared the dining room when Naomi comes back in.
"What the hell is going on in here?" Naomi demands. "I could hear you screaming from the backyard!"
Nicole and Debbie both start talking simultaneously, with Debbie's gruff and angry voice overpowering Nicole's high-pitched indignation.
"Okay, that's enough," Naomi says, rubbing her eyes. "Who was on the phone, Debbie?"
"Oh," Debbie shrugs. "It was Paul. He wanted me to tell you he was working and wouldn't be home until late."
Naomi's eyes narrow and smolder with an anger I've only seen two or three times. And none of those times ever ended well for me. My stomach knots with terror and I cling to the fragile, fleeting safety of Nicole's fingers.
"Son of a bitch," she hisses through gritted teeth. "Son of a fucking bitch!"
She kicks off Debbie's sandals and storms across the living room, stopping only to pound the wall with her fist. "He lied to me. He flat out lied to me. He knew he wasn't coming home early tonight."
Debbie and Nicole stand, transfixed, afraid to move. Naomi's rage is a terrifying thing to behold. She paces like a caged animal back and forth, her fists and jaw clenched.
Then, finally, she stops and takes a deep breath. "Fine," she says bitterly. "Let him stay out all night and fuck his little girlfriend. I don't care."
Poor Nicole is trembling right now, with tears streaking down her cheeks. I caress and kiss her fingers, desperate to comfort her and feeling woefully inadequate for the job. Her fingers close over me, as if to protect me from her mother's wrath.
"Nicole," Naomi says. Her voice is calm, but still angry. "I want you to take some of the boxes into your room and start going through your closet. Okay?"
Nicole nods. "Okay, Momma." She grabs one of the collapsed boxes and starts to carry me back to her bedroom. For one crazy, naďve moment, I actually imagine Naomi is going to let it happen.
But, she calls after Nicole. "Why don't you leave Ray on the table? He'll be fine in here with us."
"But Momma," Naomi protests. "Aunt Debbie was..."
"Nicole Carolyn Ricci!" Naomi screams so loudly that Nicole bursts into tears. "Put your brother down and get your ass in your room right now, or I swear to God I'll take a belt to you!"
There's so much pain, so much remorse in her eyes as she sets me down on the table. "I'm so sorry," she whispers, her fingers gently cuddling me. I kiss her index finger and offer her a smile filled with bravado, all in a hopeless attempt to reassure her. Sobbing loudly and with abandon, she trudges off to her room, dragging the empty box behind her.
After an awkward silence, Debbie clears her throat and says, "Um, should we get back to packing?"
Naomi shakes her head. "I don't feel like packing right now. I feel like stomping the shit out of somebody." She looks directly at me and flashes an evil smile that makes my blood run cold. "You'll do."
Giantess World
Homunculus by Cayce