I felt the massive hand envelop me, its shadow swallowing me whole before the sensation of being lifted filled my senses. The world around me became a blur, the bright light from above now streaking across my vision as I was rapidly moved. My body, reeking of vomit and alcohol, trembled uncontrollably, despite the immense heat from the living leather walls of skin that enclosed around me, her huge fingers curling over me like bent over tree limbs that allowed gaps of dim light from Stephanies room.

Crystal's grip, though firm, was surprisingly gentle—a stark contrast to the humiliation and torment I had just endured. The air then rushed past me, a brief respite from the stifling heat that had surrounded me moments before. I felt like I was flying to the bathroom, the change in lighting cast long, ominous shadows across her palm, turning Crystal's already towering figure into a monolithic entity that loomed over me with an almost divine presence.

Again, with surprising gentleness, she removed my clothes, and in my exhausted state I made no attempt at resistance, before she lowered me to the sink, her fingers uncurling to provide a cool contrast against my skin. Crystal turned the faucet on, adjusting the water to a gentle, warm flow that cascaded down into her palm, enveloping me in a comforting warmth that did little to ease my shivering. Her fingers, like pillars of flesh, maneuvered with an unexpected delicacy, directing the stream of water over my battered body. The water washed away the vile mixture of puke and alcohol, along with the grime that had accumulated from the night's earlier events.

Every now and then, I dared to lift my gaze towards her. Crystal's eyes, reddened and slightly dilated, peered down at me with an intensity that was unsettling. It was as if she was seeing me for the first time, her gaze oscillating between fascination and a drowsy, half-lidded stare that hinted at her struggle to remain awake. The sight of her in this state, teetering on the edge of consciousness yet so focused on me, filled me with an indescribable dread.

Her face was a canvas of shifting emotions, each expression flickering across her features like the play of light and shadow. One moment, her brows would furrow in concentration, her lips parting slightly as if to say something, only to smooth into an expression of serene contemplation the next. The ridges of her fingerprints, the softness of her palm, even the slight calluses that spoke of a life lived outside the confines of this moment—all were overwhelmingly present. Her skin, a pale canvas marked by the faintest freckles and veins, stretched over the bones and muscles that moved with such care around me.

As she cleaned me, her touch was paradoxically both terrifying and tender, the softness of her fingertips belying the strength that could easily crush me without a second thought. Yet, in this moment, she handled me as one might a fragile, precious object, her actions meticulous and measured.

The entire ordeal was surreal, a moment suspended in time where the horror of my situation was momentarily overshadowed by the bizarre intimacy of the act. Crystal, the giant girl who had tormented me, was now the same person gently washing away the physical reminders of the night's trauma.

Despite the warmth of the water and the gentleness of her touch, I couldn't shake the feeling of absolute vulnerability. The enormity of my situation, both literally and metaphorically, weighed down on me with a suffocating force. As the water cleared, and I was left clean but still shivering in her palm, the reality of my predicament settled in once again. I was at the mercy of Crystal, my fate in her hands, the whims and desires of this drunk, crazy girl.

When the water finally turned off, crystal produced a paper towel from her pocket, wrapping me in tightly before setting me free. Lying on her palm were a new pair of clothes for a doll, a pair of red shorts and a shirt, which I scrambled over to and put on as quickly as possible.

---


The journey back to Stephanie's room was a blur, Crystal's hand enveloping me like a cage as we traversed the dimly lit hallways, the thrum of her pulse sounding like bass at a club, my body nuzzling with the grooves of her skin for warmth. The faint sound of snoring reached my ears before we even entered, leaving me feeling yet once more hopeless, in knowing Stephanie and Amoe were nearby, yet simultaneously,,at my tiny size and their unconscious state, a stark reminder of how truly distant they were.

Once inside, Crystal set me down on the floor with a care that belied the intensity in her eyes. The transition from being held aloft to standing on my own two feet did little to ground me, especially as I found myself staring up at the colossal figure of Crystal sitting at the edge of the coffee table before me. Her feet, vast and imposing, lay flat upon the ground; I was barely as tall as her big toe, my eyes almost level with the nail that seemed more a polished slab of ivory than a part of someone's body. The nail itself bore witness to the day's adventures, a thin line of dirt and grime nestled under its edge, a dark crescent moon in a sky of pale pink.

The skin of her foot was a landscape unto itself, each ridge and valley, each callous and soft patch, magnified to an almost grotesque level of detail from my vantage point. A slight sheen of what could be oil made her skin glisten under the light, highlighting the subtle variations in texture and color. The pink flush of her soles contrasted sharply with the paler skin of the top of her foot, each area distinct yet part of a whole that was both terrifying and mesmerizing.

As she shifted slightly, the muscles and tendons beneath that vast expanse of skin moved with a fluid grace that belied their power. The flexing of her toes was like watching five great pillars bend and stretch, each movement causing ripples across her skin, shifting the terrain in ways that were both fascinating and horrifying. The slight squelch of skin against skin as her toes moved hinted at the warmth and moisture trapped between them, an environment alien and yet intimately close.

The smell was overwhelming, a potent mix of sweat, the remnants of her day's activities, and the unmistakable scent of human skin. It was a scent that spoke of confinement and freedom in the same breath, a reminder of her vastness and how tiny I was. The air around her feet was thick, heavy with the heat that radiated from her skin, enveloping me in a cocoon of her presence.

Between her toes, the shadows deepened, hiding secrets in their folds. The jam that collected there was a testament to her day, a mixture of sweat, skin cells, and the dust of the world outside. The sight of it, a dark, slightly glistening substance, made my stomach churn, yet I couldn't tear my eyes away.

Every now and then, a slight breeze would waft the scent towards me, a complex fragrance that was pungently human, filled with the odors of life and activity. The reality of being so close, of being forced to confront the sheer scale of her compared to me, was a constant barrage of sensory overload. The sight, the smell, the warmth emanating from her skin—all served to remind me of my insignificance, my role reduced to nothing more than an observer, a participant in a ritual that was both humiliating and awe-inspiring.

As Crystal moved, the light caught the edges of her skin, casting shadows and highlighting textures in a dance of light and darkness. The softness of her skin, where it yielded slightly under its own weight, contrasted with the firmness of her soles and the rigidity of her nails. Each aspect of her foot spoke of the duality of strength and vulnerability, a paradox that I was caught within, unable to escape yet compelled to witness.

Crystal's presence loomed over me like a titan, her every shift and sigh magnified into a cacophony of sound and movement. As she settled her gaze upon me, it was as if the very air around us stilled, waiting for her decree. Her voice, when it came, was a blend of sweetness laced with venom, the slurring of her words doing little to mask the command within them.

"Mark, myyy li'l pet," Crystal's voice slurred heavily over me like distant thunder, her words stretching and merging in a drunken drawl, "it'sh my turn now, yeah? You've been all good 'n stuff, pamperin your sistahs.. but now, I'm your goddess. You gotta worship me." Her finger, a colossal entity in its own right, pointed directly at her toes, those massive leather boulders that loomed before me.

"Come, my tiny toyyyy, show your devo -” She paused, letting out a small burp. “-tion. Worship your goddesssss," she slurred, her words dripping with a possessive need that chilled me to the bone. The contrast between her drunkenly tender tone and the authoritative command sent a shiver down my spine.

As I gazed up, the sheer scale of Crystal's feet became all the more apparent. Her toes, each a monolith compared to my insignificant form, were arrayed before me like the pillars of some ancient temple dedicated to a deity as benevolent as she was cruel. The skin of her soles, visible in the dim light, was a tapestry of life itself—lines and creases marking the paths she had walked, each step a testament to her power over me.

"I want yooooou... to start wit ma biggie toessss," she cracked a hiccup, her voice a mix of whimsy and demand. "Kissssss it. Show it the loooove it deservesssss from someone tinyyyy asa youuuu." Her laughter, now more a series of disjointed chuckles, echoed down to me, filled with a mixture of amusement and something darker. It filled me with dread, echoing around me like the mirth of a capricious god.

Trembling, I approached, the scent of her skin—a mix of sweat, the remnants of her day, and the faintest hint of her perfume—enveloping me. It was overwhelming, a reminder of her humanity and yet a testament to the divide between us. The dirt and grime under her toenail, loomed large in my vision, like an over packed gutter that I was commanded to honor.

As I moved to comply, her toe flexed slightly, a minor movement for her but a seismic event for me. The shifting of her skin, the ripple of muscle beneath, was a display of her strength, a reminder that I was at her mercy. The warmth radiating from her foot bathed me in a heat that was both comforting and suffocating, the paradox of my existence in her shadow.

With each hesitant step closer, the reality of what I was being forced to do struck me anew. This was not just a physical act of submission but a spiritual one, a demand to place myself beneath her in every way imaginable. The act of kissing her toe, of showing it the reverence she demanded, was a relinquishing of my own dignity, a sacrifice at the altar of her whims.

Her laughter and commands, though slurred and seemingly whimsical, were the laws of my universe, dictating my actions with an authority that brooked no dissent. In this moment, she was my deity, and I her devoted acolyte, performing rites of worship that spoke of a devotion born of fear as much as awe. The giant girl's feet, and the toes that I was compelled to serve, were not just parts of her but symbols of her dominion over me, the physical manifestations of her command over my very being.

As I inched closer to Crystal's towering big toe, my heart raced with a mix of fear and resignation. The sheer size of it dwarfed me, making me feel more insignificant than I had ever felt in my life. The task at hand, both absurd and terrifying, required me to confront not just the physical enormity of Crystal's body compared to mine, but the emotional and psychological weight of my subservience.

The surface of her big toe loomed before me, a vast expanse of skin that was marked by slight imperfections and creases, evidence of a life lived outside the confines of this room. The smell that wafted from her foot was a potent mixture of sweat, the faint musk of her skin, and an earthiness that spoke of her day's activities. It was overwhelming, enveloping me in a sensory experience that was both repulsive and strangely intimate.

Hesitantly, I pressed my lips against the skin of her big toe. The texture was soft yet resilient, warm to the touch. My lips brushed against the fine, almost imperceptible hairs on her skin, sending a shiver down my spine. The taste was salty, tinged with the bitterness of sweat and the remnants of whatever her foot had come into contact with throughout the day.

"Isss tha all you got, Maaark? I said worsssip, not like yous kissin grandma!" Crystal's voice boomed down at me, her tone laced with mockery and dissatisfaction. "Show some paaaaassion! Like it's your trueeeeee loooooove!” She paused, giggles cracking above me like gunfire. “Use your tongue Marky, be a goood lil boooooy."

Her words, dripping with derision, cut through me. The thought of complying with her demand was humiliating beyond measure, yet the fear of her wrath spurred me into action. I closed my eyes, trying to detach myself from the reality of what I was doing, and pressed my mouth more firmly against her toe.

My tongue hesitantly extended, making contact with the skin of her toe. The taste intensified, a complex layering of flavors that spoke of long hours spent in shoes and the natural secretions of her skin. The sensation of her skin against my tongue was bizarrely soft, the texture varying as I moved, exploring the contours and creases of her toe.

As I continued, trying to fulfill her command, I could feel Crystal's gaze upon me, heavy with expectation and amusement. The sheer physicality of the act, the warmth of her skin, the overpowering scent, and the taste that lingered in my mouth—all of it combined to create an experience that was overwhelmingly visceral.

"Better, Maaaark, but I dunno if imaa convinceds. Adore me" she taunted, her voice a constant reminder of her control over me.

The task, degrading as it was, became a test of my endurance, a measure of how far I was willing to go to appease her. Each movement of my tongue, each kiss, was a surrender, an acknowledgment of her dominance. The immensity of her body compared to mine, her foot a towering edifice that I was compelled to venerate, underscored the absurdity of my position.

The act of worshiping Crystal's toe, of using my tongue in such a manner, was a humiliation that transcended physical disgust, touching on a deeper, more existential sense of degradation. Yet, within this act, there was a perverse form of intimacy, a connection forged in the crucible of my submission and her power.

Under the immense shadow of Crystal's towering figure, I felt reduced to nothing more than a speck, a mere plaything at the mercy of her whims. Her demands, slurred and erratic, echoed in my mind as I continued the degrading task, my lips and tongue moving against the warm, vast expanse of her skin in a facsimile of devotion. The enormity of her presence, coupled with the intoxicating scent of her skin, saturated my senses, a relentless reminder of my vulnerability.

As time blurred, Crystal's attention seemed to drift, her movements becoming less deliberate and more sporadic. Her intoxication, a palpable force, seemed to envelop us both, a haze that dulled the edges of reality. In her absent-minded fidgeting her big toe, a colossal structure of skin and bone, shifted unexpectedly. With a suddenness that left no room for escape, it barreled into me, the impact sending me tumbling to the ground, the air forcefully expelled from my lungs. The world spun, a disorienting whirl of light and shadow, until I came to a rest, lying on my back, gasping for breath.

"Oopsie... maaa baaaaad," she boomed with a slur, her words barely coherent.

As I gasped for air and opened my eyes, I nearly shouted in fright. Above me, the underside of her big toe loomed like a dirty, fleshy ceiling, suspended in a position that promised obliteration with the slightest mistake. The swirls of her skin, like a patchwork of ridges and valleys, bore the evidence of her day—stains of dirt, an oily sheen, and dust that painted a picture of neglect. The smell, a potent mix of earthiness and the acrid tang of sweat, filled my nostrils, a stark, unavoidable reality.

"Wha... What're ya doin' down there, huh? Slackin off?" Crystal's voice boomed, tinged with anger and confusion. "Thought I told ya to worship me, nooooo naps!"

Her words, though slurred, were filled with a drunken ire that sent a wave of panic through me. The imminent threat of her displeasure was a tangible force, as oppressive as the weight of her toe that hovered over me.

"A'right, since ya seem to be takin' a break, how 'bout you start lickin'? Yaaah, that's what you should be doin'," she demanded, her tone brooking no argument. Without waiting for a response, she lowered her toe onto me, pinning me to the ground with a pressure that made it difficult to draw breath. The warmth of her skin against mine was suffocating, the texture of her sole pressing down a relentless reminder of her control.

"You bessss star lickin'..." she threatened, her voice a slurred growl that vibrated through me. The fear of her wrath, of the consequences of failing to obey, spurred me into action despite the discomfort, the humiliation, and the growing sense of despair.

As her toe pressed down, the reality of my situation was inescapable. Trapped beneath the weight of her foot, every breath was a struggle, each inhalation tainted with the taste and smell of her skin. The dirt and sweat that coated her bottom of her toe became my world, a suffocating blanket of filth that I was compelled to worship. The sensation of her skin against my lips, the taste of her, was overwhelming—a mixture of bitterness and salt that filled my mouth, a constant reminder of my degradation and her omnipotence.

In that moment, pinned and forced into further humiliation, the disparity between us was never more acute—a giant and a captive, a deity and her slave, locked in a dance as old as time, where power dictated obedience, and resistance was not just futile but unthinkable. The skin against my face was a vast landscape of warmth and pressure, each breath a battle against the weight that threatened to crush me completely. The smell of her—a mix of sweat, dirt, and something uniquely her—filled my nostrils, a constant, inescapable reality.

With a reluctant determination, I extended my tongue, making contact with the rough, dirt-speckled surface of her skin. The taste was immediate and intense, a blend of saltiness and the earthy bitterness of accumulated grime. Each movement of my tongue picked up bits of dirt, the texture gritty against my taste buds, a stark reminder of my humiliating task.

"Hah, can't believe ya actually doin' it," Crystal slurred from above, her voice thick with amusement and disbelief. "Lookit you go... I really am a goddddd"

Her laughter, a series of drunken giggles, echoed down to me, each one causing her toe to shift and oscillate. The pressure increased suddenly with each laugh, squeezing the air from my lungs, filling me with a terror so profound it threatened to drown out even the taste of her skin. I was acutely aware of my vulnerability, trapped and helpless beneath her whims.

Struggling to breathe, I paused in my licking, the effort to draw air too great. But Crystal's amusement was short-lived, replaced quickly by irritation.

"Don't stop now, Maaaarky," she demanded, her tone sharp despite the drunken haze. "Keep goin'. I wanna feel eaaccch liiick."

The pressure lifted slightly, a reprieve that allowed me to gulp down a desperate breath. The air was heavy with the scent of her, a reminder of my subservience. With little choice, I resumed, my tongue moving mechanically over the surface of her toe, each lick a surrender to her demands.

Her mocking laughter continued, a cruel soundtrack to my humiliation. "Thas it, keep it up. Shows me how much you worship your goddesssssss," she teased, her words dripping with derision.

Each giggle, each shift of her foot, sent waves of panic through me, a constant reminder of the precariousness of my situation. The vast difference in our sizes, her power over me, was never more apparent than in these moments—her foot a towering monument, her laughter a thunderous decree of my insignificance.

The act of licking, of complying with her demands, was a physical ordeal, but it was the psychological torment that bore down on me the heaviest. Each movement of my tongue, each breath I struggled to take, was a testament to my helplessness, to the absurdity of my position at the mercy of a drunken giantess who saw me as little more than an amusement, a bug to be toyed with and mocked.

In this twisted dynamic, where fear and obedience intermingled, I was lost, a tiny figure caught in the shadow of a god, my every action dictated by her capricious whims. The dirt and sweat that coated my tongue, the suffocating pressure of her foot, the mocking timbre of her voice—all of it combined to create a prison of sensation and emotion from which there was no escape. Every lap became a study in survival and humiliation. The vast expanse of her skin varied beneath my tongue, from slightly smoother regions near the tip of her toe to the rougher, more calloused areas towards the bottom. Each lap brought a new texture, a new taste of dirt and sweat, each uniquely repulsive and degrading.

My tongue encountered a patch of skin that was relatively smooth but coated in a fine layer of grit. The sensation was akin to dragging my tongue across sandpaper, the particles of dirt dislodging and mixing with the saliva in my mouth, creating a sludge that was difficult to swallow.

"Look at you, sooo diligent," Crystal slurred, her voice dripping with mockery. "Never knew ya had it in ya, Mark."

Her laughter, a sound that once might have been melodious, now felt like jagged edged booms scraping against my psyche. Each chuckle caused her toe to press down momentarily harder, forcing the air from my lungs and sending waves of panic through me.

The next lap found a crease between her toes, where the skin was softer, more pliable, but the accumulation of sweat and dirt was more concentrated. The taste was sharper, more acrid, a visceral reminder of my degradation. The moisture trapped in the crease clung to my tongue, a vile reminder of the task at hand.

"Aren't ya just the perfect little worshipper?" she taunted, her words slurring together in a drunken drawl. "Bet ya never thought you'd be with a God tonight, huh?"

With each of Crystal's words, the humiliation deepened, her mockery a constant barrage against my dwindling sense of self. The laughter that followed each taunt was a physical force, her toe shifting with her mirth, alternately easing and increasing the pressure against me, a cruel game that toyed with my desperation for air.

By the third lap, my tongue grazed a particularly rough patch of skin, where the buildup of dead skin added a texture that was both horrifying and fascinating in its detail. The difference in the grooves of her skin was palpable, each ridge a mountain range under the exploration of my tongue. The dirt here was embedded deeper, each movement of my tongue a battle against the filth.

"Getting tired yet?" Crystal's voice came, lazy and uninterested, a stark contrast to her earlier amusement. "Don't stop Maaaark"

Her commands were a chain, binding me to this degrading task, each word a weight that anchored me further into my submission. The struggle to breathe became more pronounced with her every shift, the lack of air a constant threat that loomed over the physical disgust and emotional turmoil of the situation.

Each lap was a testament to the vast disparity between us—not just in size but in power, in humanity. With every pass of my tongue, every forced inhalation beneath the crushing weight of her toe, the reality of my situation was hammered home: I was a plaything for her amusement, subject to her whims and derision. The cycle of degradation seemed endless, each command from Crystal a new chapter in this nightmarish night of humiliation.

When she yawned, a sound that echoed like thunder from above, a flicker of hope ignited within me. "I'm gettin' boooored," she slurred, her voice heavy with fatigue and disinterest. For a brief, delusional moment, I dared to imagine an end to this torment, a reprieve that would allow me to retreat from her colossal presence and find solace in the darkness of unconsciousness.

But the nightmare was far from over. "Ya know what, Mark? Get 'tween my toes. That'll be fun," she declared, her words slurring together in a drunken drawl that brooked no argument. My heart sank as I realized the ordeal would continue, morphing into new forms of debasement.