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Author's Chapter Notes:

This is a shoe entrapment chapter, with regards to the giantess stuff. It's not *just* man meets shoe and sweats it out, but it's certainly the main point. The tale I wrote I thought was too long, so I split this into two parts. So I guess this is a two-shot.

There was a sound of thunder. Quakes shook the land, as Caitlin made her way through a back road. It was a simple dirt path, carving through a forest. The trees barely made it to her ankle. In fact, such an assessment was rather generous to the trees. Beyond the forest lay a suburban neighborhood, a neighborhood she easily towered over. Were the sun not setting in the west, Caitlin would have easily cast a shadow over a significant amount of the properties.

She grimaced as she glanced ahead. Her home was not far off. It stuck out as always, a blocky gray monolith among the comparatively minuscule dwellings that stood near it.

Even as she made her way, there was a notable limp in her gait. Every time she moved her right leg, the soft of her foot would act up. The pain was sharp, as if a pair of claws were tearing the tendon within. She made sure to keep her weight upon her left foot, yet even that could not stifle the agony she beared.

It felt like an eternity before she made it to the entrance. Andrew’s garage was oriented towards the neighborhood. The door that stood before her was situated near the back of the house, allowing easy access to the path she had just tread. Such was necessary, or her transit to the construction site would be a destructive one, no matter how much caution she practiced.

She practically fell through the entrance, her boots thudding against the floor. Her construction gear felt heavier than normal. It was a relief to take off her hard hat, allowing matted hair to fall over her face, her ears and her neck.

Next were her boots. Caitlin had to lean against a wall in order for her to comfortably remove the heavy footwear. For good measure, she also threw off her thick brown jacket, leaving a clearly undersized tank top to cover her torso.

It took a minute to shed her boots. She endured another pang of agony that shot through her foot. There was a great temptation to let out a curse, but Caitlin stifled such an instinct.

It took a great deal of effort to lumber through the kitchen to the bedroom. Were she not a giantess, Caitlin’s house would be considered positively minuscule. The door to the outside was rather close to the entrance to her bedroom. She was practically leaning against the door as her body stumbled through.

Andrew witnessed the titanic form of his wife shift into the bedroom. He had taken a small nap on the pillow, but had been stirred the minute he heard Caitlin enter the house. Concern overcame his face as he witnessed her limping gait. Such a sight was comparable to a collapsing skyscraper, yet his worries lay more with the skyscraper, rather than whether he would be caught in the path of destruction.

And concerned he should have been about himself. His comparatively minuscule form had jumped down from the pillow, and raced towards the edge of the bed to greet Caitlin. Yet his wife, occupied with her strained foot, did not notice his presence.

Still, he shouted out to the approaching colossus, “Hey Cait, are you alright? Did something happen at work?”

Giantesses possessed a heightened sense of hearing, particularly when it came to human voices. This, however, was to no avail. Andrew’s vocal chords could only project so much sound that Caitlin could pick up on. Her distracted disposition did not help matters.

She loomed over the bed. Andrew was about even with her thighs. It was always awe-inspiring, among other things, to be flanked by two overwhelmingly massive pillars. The fact that they were concealed behind dark-blue denim detracted little from their majesty. He dared not look upward, for the view there promised to be even more enticing.

So transfixed was Andrew, that he did not wonder why his wife was turning her back to the bed. So fixated he was, that it did not register when her jean-clad rear, like a falling meteor, descended towards where he stood.

It was only when Caitlin’s tush had completely overshadowed him, that Andrew realized his predicament. He did not bother to shout out to Caitlin, his voice would be impeded by massive barriers. Instead, he scrambled forwards.

A giantess taking a seat is not such a mundane event to those far smaller than her. The mattress was not very stiff, and thus, when Caitlin’s weight was brought to bear, the terrain sank. Andrew found himself out of immediate danger, for he had surpassed in impact zone. Yet impacts had shockwaves. He had to grip the comforter, lest he slid down the incline created by his wife, down to her crotch.

Caitlin leaned over, resting her elbows on her legs. A small groan escaped her lips. Her head hung over, allowing brown hair to cascade down.

Her eyes widened, as she was able to spot who lay between her legs.

“Crap!” she exclaimed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there!”

She scooted back, as well as widening her legs, giving Andrew more breathing room. The bed quaked, and he dared not stand up, for the shifting terrain would make balance tricky. As he looked back up, he saw a wave of relief wash over his wife’s face.

“No worries, I thought I’d be able to avoid you with that limp,” he cheekily replied.

A sheepish grin crossed Caitlin’s face.

“You noticed eh?”

“Honey, you’ve got the grace of a Tyrannosaurus, but now, you’re just a Bronto.”

Caitlin assumed an expression of faux-offense, “Don’t call me a Tyrano-whatever! I bet I’m way bigger!”

“And heavier.” Andrew added on with a smirk.

A denim-clad leg shifted. Andrew found himself under a great shadow. Gradually, he felt the titanic weight of Caitlin’s thigh settle down upon him. Her jeans were softer than they appeared, for they had seen many years of use, even before they were even married. It possessed a distinct odor that was a mix of fabric, and stale sweat, something which made it uniquely Caitlin.

Despite the force now pressing down upon him, Andrew was in no pain. The soft mattress beneath him, cushioned with layers of comforter and bedsheets took the brunt of the weight. He was certainly pressed deeper into the surface. His back was tightly hugged by the contours of the comforter, while his front had been consumed by his wife’s thigh. It was a complete hug of fabric, a prison of oppressive comfort.

Caitlin felt another spike of pain, and moved her thigh off of her husband. Andrew was given a clear view of her face, twisted in agony. He too, felt a twinge of pain, more from empathy, and not from the avalanche of jean-clad flesh he recently found himself under.

“Frickin a, I can’t even torment you properly,” she lamented.

Once he sensed his wife settled down, Andrew took the time to stand up. Her “torment” had certainly straightened at least one thing out, but her current predicament stifled his excitement. He placed a fist upon his chin, giving an impression of contemplation.

His contemplation did not last long, for he suggested in short order, “You should probably call in for tomorrow.”

Caitlin furrowed her brow, “No way!”

Andrew winced from the force of Caitlin’s shout. The mere air pressure emitted from her mouth almost sent him on his back, not to mention the volume of her voice was quite powerful as well. Still, he had become a veteran of dealing with giantess outbursts, and managed to steady himself.

“You’ve been on the job ever since you’ve been employed,” he explained, “Throughout your employment, you’ve only taken 24 hours of vacation.”

His wife raised an eyebrow, “How do you…”

Andrew tapped his head in response, “It’s a requirement for my own job.”

Caitlin rolled her eyes. A hand reached for Andrew. He was pinched, held by her thumb and two fingers. Methodically, she placed him on the nightstand.

Grunting, Caitlin managed to shimmy her pants off. She smirked, feeling her husband’s wandering eyes upon her bare thighs, bulging with flexed muscle. Grey fabric concealed her privates, and she contemplated shifting her position to give Andrew a better view. Her sore foot brought her out of that line of thinking, and she continued, with great strain, to free her legs from the confines of her jeans.

She considered grabbing some shorts to cover up her undergarments, but decided the journey to her drawer was not worth it. It lay a short distance a way, but her sore foot complicated matters. Instead she brought her legs on the bed. Her socks were discarded by her feet, although using her right foot to uncover her left caused her significant pain.

As her head settled upon the pillow, she sighed, “Tomorrow’s gonna be a bitch.”

Upon the nightstand, Andrew found himself close to her face. His view couldn’t even account for it’s entirety. He found himself solely gazing into gargantuan eyes. “You should probably spend the day icing it down.”

“If you get paid to work, you work.” she refuted, “My Dad always said that.”

Once more did Andrew bring a fist to his chin. “Yeah, yeah, I suppose…”

Dark eyes scanned the expanse of the giantess’ form. They settled on her bare feet, resting near the end. Such a simple sight was made grand from the sheer scale and distance Andrew found himself from her. At least, parts of her. Were Caitlin his size, he could simply walk in the span of a second to reach her feet.

Making the distance would be significant exercise at the very least in his current situation.

Bringing his attention back to her face, he asked, “Does that at least feel better?”

Caitlin nodded slightly, shifting the pillow, “It’s a bit sore, but sure beats walking.”

Andrew inhaled deeply, before bringing his idea to light, “I can help out with that, you know.”

Silence emerged between the two. Caitlin let out a small huff, before giving him a knowing glance. Before long, her arm, previously prone at her side, reached out.

Andrew was taken from the night stand. He managed to fall into her palm. The skin there was slightly calloused, but at the very center, where he was held, there was a tenderness that he rather appreciated.

He would not get an opportunity to appreciate it for long, for her hand tipped, depositing Andrew next to her waist upon the bedsheets. Andrew wasted no time, taking off on a jog. He devoted little time to appreciate the thigh to his side that formed a wall easily three stories high. Eventually, the thigh tapered off to a knee, which was only two stories high; not as impressive.

Making it to her feet, he rounded the corner, making it past her left foot, and settling in front of her right. Placing his hand upon her heel, feeling the tough, yet flexible skin, a smile crosses his face. A distinct odor crossed his nose, yet he persisted in not succumbing to disgust.

He peered around the inside of the foot, if only to project his voice to his wife’s ears, which currently lay behind hundreds of feet of leg, waist, and chest. In fact, because of her chest, Caitlin’s face remained obscured.

“So, where’s the damage?”

Caitlin bent her neck up, “Right in the middle, right inside the arch.”

An arm stretched up, not even making it past the jut of her heel. Peering around again, Andrew shouted once more.

“You mind?”

Caitlin felt a blush flush her cheeks a slight shade of red. She turned her foot to the side, allowing her pinky toe to rest upon the bed, while her big toe still hung in the air. Andrew wasted no time repositioning himself against her arch.

Nimble hands pressed into more tender skin. Beneath, Andrew felt a distinct rut, and focussed his efforts there. He heard a sharp gasp from his wife in response.

In a way, it was almost magic, as every trace of pain evaporated away. Caitlin felt her foot loosen, as if strings that had been binding it ever since she had tweaked it, had become undone. As she basked in the feeling of relief, she murmured, “Gosh, you’re doing an even better job than I could.”

“Massages feel better when someone else is giving them.” Andrew responded.

“Point taken,” replied Caitlin. A small smirk crossed her face, “Hope you don’t mind the smell”

A shade of red bloomed upon Andrew’s cheeks.

“It’s a bit much,” he admitted, “but I can manage.”

Story of your life with me, eh? Caitlin mused, as she felt her eyelids become heavy. It became a struggle to maintain consciousness, for it was the first time of the day she had a chance to truly relax. Soon enough, she had fallen asleep.

By the time her eyes opened once more, it was clear that time had passed. Her maw opened wide, letting out a breathy yawn. “Oh man, how long was I out? It isn’t morning yet, is it?”

“Relax,” assured her husband, still at her foot, “It’s only been half an hour.”

Caitlin’s gaze focused upon Andrew’s form, completely outclassed by her foot. There was not much she could make out of him, least of all, what expression he was wearing. What she could tell, was that Andrew was hard at work. There was a small warmth within her chest simply observing the sheer difference in scale. It was as if he were washing the side of a wall.

“And you’re still going at it?” she commented.

“I can do this all day,” Andrew declared.

A mischievous thought crossed Caitlin’s mind, as she replied, “Really?”

Her foot turned over, trapping Andrew underneath. He was pressed into the arch. There wasn’t as much pressure applied if happened to have the misfortune of being under either the ball, or the heel. Still, smelly, sweaty skin had been forced against the entirety of his body. His breath would inhale a full, unrestrained dose of pungent odor that tingled the sense, and filled the lungs.

By doing this, Andrew had ceased his labors. Caitlin was rewarded with another bout of pain, and responded by giving out a strained yelp. By reflex, her foot veered off of Andrew, giving him relief from her foul oppression.

Andrew did not bother bring himself to his feet, for an idea had popped in his head. A terrible, wonderful, awful idea. He could not match this idea with a gross smile, yet the thought certainly excited him.

“Everything alright?”

Caitlin had managed sit up just enough to get a clear view of her husband’s sprawled form. With baited breath, she awaited a stir of movement from him.

“I was just thinking,” she heard him respond, allowing herself to exhale.

“What exactly?”

Andrew sat up, “How about I help you get through your workday tomorrow.”

An eyebrow rose upon the colossal woman’s face, “How do you figure to do that?”

“Easy,” Andrew claimed, “I’ll just massage your foot until you clock out.”

Caitlin immediately shook her head, “You have work tomorrow as well, don’t you?”

“I can call the day off.” he countered, “I have paid time to spare. Lawrence doesn’t mind, and if I say I’m helping out my wife, I’m sure he’d understand.”

“But … but …” she protested. Her objections were soon reduced to a series of inaudible mumbles. Silvery eyes shifted to the side, and she could only pray that the blush that occupied her cheeks would go unnoticed.

“You don’t have to do that for me!” It was at this moment that Caitlin felt as a petulant child trying to refuse something a parent suggested.

“I’m afraid I’m martially obligated to. ‘In sickness and in health’ remember?”

“I can do this without using you as a footstool!” the giantess declared. Even at her feet, Andrew could still feel the immense pressure her powerful vocal chords could generate.

To prove her claim. Caitlin swung her foot over the edge of the bed, making sure Andrew was left untouched. But even as she placed weight down on her foot once more, her foot cramped up again, far more powerfully than before. In such pain was she, it was preferable to jam her foot into the joint of a door, than remain standing.

Remain standing, she did not. Her rear crashed back into the bed, the shock sending Andrew into the air for but a few feet.

It was through gritted teeth, she then conceded, “You win this time buster.”

Caitlin was stirred awake through the blaring of her alarm. “6:00” read the digits upon the digital interface. An arm lazily reached out, before smacking the clock, effectively silencing the blaring klaxon.

She rolled her head to the opposite side. To her surprise, Andrew was already up, standing on his own two feet upon the pillow they shared.

“Morning, you ready to work?”

Her mouth opened wide in response, allowing a breathy yawn to pass. It was assured Andrew would be bearing the full brunt of her morning exhale, along with everything else that was allowed to ferment within. As she witnessed her husband stagger from a meager yawn, a smile grew upon her lips.

“I sure am!”

Caitlin set to get herself out of bed. Her cheerful disposition disappeared, as the same pain from the previous day made itself known as soon as significant pressure was placed upon the affected foot.

Her back hunched over, half to bear the cramp, half in frustration. It appeared to be, her final defeat in this resistance.

“Andrew,” she whimpered, “… I …”

Her husband had already made it to her side, “Whenever you’re ready.”

Upon the nightstand, there lay a pair of clean socks. A firm hand retrieved them. Her left foot was dressed easily. Her right, would not be such a simple task.

The remaining sock was grasped firmly. With measured movements, Caitlin retrieved her husband, allowing him to stand in the palm of her hand. Curled fingers provided a protective canopy. Andrew was in nothing but his boxer-briefs, for anything additional would only add to the pile of clothes he would have to wash, not to mention, the heat.

He was carried up to her face. It was easy to falter under her gaze. Caitlin’s enormous eyes, even in a state of morning struggle, could be quite intense, even without the benefit of putting billboards to shame.

“Don’t try anything fancy, alright?” she stated, “I’m gonna call it a day if I think you’re on the verge of popping”

Andrew nodded in response, “I’m a hard guy to pop Cait.”

This comment caused a small smirk to cross Caitlin’s mouth.

“Sure, big boy,” she said with a snicker. Her jovial manner did not last long.

“If this gets to be too much for you, remember, four taps,” she instructed. Caitlin leaned forward just in the slightest, as if doing so would give her words greater weight. She got a nod from Andrew.

With a nervous exhale, she began bringing him to his destination. “Good luck” was all she could say.

“Break a leg,” Andrew responded, winking. It was the last word in before he felt himself swept in momentum.

Her other hand pried open the end of the sock. Caitlin had chosen a white pair to wear. Even in shadow, the bleached material would reflect away excess heat. In theory, that at least, was how Andrew put it to her. In practice, she had her doubts.

Meanwhile, Andrew had been rolled into the snug grip of her fingers. He witnessed the fabric tunnel draw close. It almost appeared to be sucking him in. While Andrew had traversed his share of messy clothing, casually tossed aside by Caitlin, never had he taken the time to truly be consumed by one. In the dim light of dawn, he could make out every individual thread. They were stout things, far greater in size than any that made up his clothes at least.

As Andrew was brought in the mouth of the sock, he was hit with a smell of detergent. It was a blissful fragrance, most likely the last that he would experience that day. Caitlin had showered, for once, but her own potent stench was bound to be unleashed throughout the day.

Once he was far enough in, Caitlin let go. Gravity took Andrew, sending him tumbling down, down to the foot of the sock. The fabric proved soft, fortunately, and ultimately, the only harm done to him was the rush of momentum.

Caitlin carefully prodded the sock, feeling for Andrew’s form. Once satisfied, she brought the sock to her injured foot.

Slowly, did the fabric slide over her skin. Andrew could not see clearly from his position, his view was dominated by a fluffy white tapestry. With little light flowing in, the material appeared darker than it was. But, if the material was dark, Caitlin’s foot was a monolithic shadow. Andrew could make out the silhouette five digits entering in.

It was like watching a train pass over in slow motion. Instead of rattling tracks, however, the entire canopy began expanding and twisting. Andrew fought to remain in the center, keeping his eyes upon the approaching mass. From below, he felt a slight tugging. His stomach dropped as he sunk even more into the cotton depths.

Outside, Caitlin had pinched the area where her husband laid, pulling it down. Her toes, and the ball of her foot was able to pass over him with ease. She felt relief overcome her as Andrew’s form had fallen within the soft of her foot. She released the fabric, allowing the sock to bring him against her skin. Tiny hands grabbed at folds of flesh, allowing Andrew to follow her foot until the journey’s end.

Finally, her toes made it to the front of her sock. She tugged at the end, securing both the sock, and her husband, snug against her. A curious tingle traveled through her spine, for the sensation of Andrew’s miniscule body held tightly to her skin, was something both hauntingly alien, yet exquisitely familiar. Already, her foot had been relieved of soreness, and Andrew was not even working on her yet.

Caitlin mounted the occupied foot upon her opposite knee. She could observe the small outline of her husband within the fabric, but a layman wouldn’t have been able to observe something remiss. For a minute, she marveled at the sight.

With a shot of awareness, she called down to her husband, “If you can’t breathe, four taps, if you can, two.”

Two taps, light as feathers, small as sand, and comforting as a fluffy pillow, sunk into her flesh. With a heavy sigh, she set her foot down.

“Alright, I’m gonna go on a little test drive. “

Caitlin stood up.

Andrew felt a great shift in momentum. His experience with being carried by Caitlin, however, prepared him for the movement in her legs. What he wasn’t prepared for, was the immense feeling of pressure, once Caitlin had set her foot on the ground. An overwhelming force had pressed against his back. It was all-encompassing, leaving not an area of his body untouched.

He inhaled, and was immediately granted a whiff of fragrant flesh. The residue of the soap she had used in her shower the previous night, remained. It had mixed with her own scent, fresh and clean. Andrew would have to savor this, for Caitlin’s foot would not remain pleasant for long.

It was indeed, fortunate, that he found himself in a rather advantageous spot. Stuck directly against the arch of Caitlin’s foot, his wife’s massive weight had been mitigated. The sock and the carpet both provided some semblance of relief as well.

Caitlin took a step with her affected foot. Even with her foot off the ground, she still felt Andrew against her. It was a slow, deliberate move. She had become aware of even the smallest of details. From the heel of her foot settling down, to the pad and her toes coming to rest on the ground, everything progressed at a snail’s pace.

For Andrew, there was a release of pressure as the step proceeded. The swing in momentum, he felt sufficiently prepared for. What ultimately took him out was when the massive extremity was brought to the ground once more. Even with the care Caitlin practiced, the increase in pressure was dramatic. Andrew had to wonder if being squeezed by a wrestler was comparable to the situation he now found himself in.

I can do this. I have to. I’ve dealt with more pressure meeting deadlines. This will be a walk in the park. Or the construction zone, wherever she’s headed off to.

Fully committed, Andrew began to dig himself into the flesh that lay above. He was made aware of the affected tendon, as his hands, his elbows, his knees, and even his own feet kneeded the arch of his wife’s foot.

Caitlin took another step, before pausing in utter resignation. What had pained her before the entirety of yesterday, and for most of this morning, was virtually gone. Walking would be as easy as it ever was, with a tiny caveat of course.

She turned back, before lifting the heel of her occupied foot. From where she stood, she couldn’t find a trace of where Andrew was, despite the fact that she could certainly feel him.

“You hear me?” she asked once more, “Two taps if you can.”

Again, she felt two taps against her skin.

“How’s the pressure?” she further inquired, “Four taps, too much, two taps, just right.”

Again, there were two distinct taps.

Her brows furrowed. She had to wonder if was possible for Andrew to see her glare through the fabric, if he could even peel his face off of her skin. With a foreboding tone, mixed with a touch of playfulness, she warned, “If I crush you in there, I’m gonna kill you when we get home.”

She spent the rest of the morning getting on her work clothes. While she had washed her socks, Caitlin stuck with her old pair of jeans. A heavy jacket was thrown over her tank top. Her boots, airing out all night, were next. There was great care taken when she slipped on her right boot. The cushioning within, however, made her feel better about Andrew.

There were other concerns, however. While she was now confident that Andrew wouldn’t meet his end by crushing, she could already feel her feet perspiring within the heavy footware. Heat and pressure were dangerous adversaries when mixed.

Chapter End Notes:

Part 2 might come in a day or two(ish). 

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