Deviant Downsizing (Chapter 5)

Yet as engrossing as this view was for Mason, having finally crossed the former hardline boundary he’d set for himself, it impossible to come this close to Lori’s post-work foot without being consumed alive by every other sense-wreaking factor at play here. The blistering heat really was something that had to be adjusted for and surmounted, as those new micro-waves (generated by her power’s maintenance, even in sleep) kept flaring away from the giantess’s skin so keenly that her one-inch son half-expected a lick of actual flame to be produced after some of these muted outbursts. He very nearly stumbled several times amidst such incandescence, consciously slowing his breaths to keep them from turning labored, as it began to feel like he was pitching his face ever-closer over a well-fed campfire. Mason’s eyes were already made to water before, but now there were actually tears streaming down his cheeks, as though he’d taken a straight shot of ghost pepper sauce – just because of the putrefied day-raunch pluming away from Lori’s foot flesh and crystallizing its leaden stench all through his airways.

This stink truly was beyond compare. It obliterated any trace of fresh air still leftover inside Mason, bathing him in a haze of pure gratuitous slime-clogged sole-cheesy horror. Even more so than from the heat itself, he was made to tremor violently after just a couple dozen controlled sniffs of that nostril-frying flavor drawn from less than an inch away, finally dropping to his haunches and arching his back like a cat about to retch up a hairball. And though Mason didn’t actually vomit, having built up just enough tolerance by inhaling a weaker more-distanced strain of this ultra-sour malodor over the past two weeks, he definitely didn’t go right with the flow, either. His throat burned, as if his mother had lit a metaphorical fire in there, and his stomach palpably convulsed worse than it would have on an inverted roller coaster.

First coughing hard, he rapidly stifled that reflex to avoid the chance of his whispered hacks awakening Lori too soon. Though there was only so much he could do to contain himself. Mason balled his fists and bowed his head down against the table – only to regret that move immediately, when he inadvertently dipped his face straight against that collected pool of sweat, still gathered around her monolithic pink-paled right heel. He shivered again in skin-crawling disgust when he whipped himself upward on all fours again, feeling his hair soaked and the dribbles of maternal foot sweat weeping down his face like he'd gotten caught in the worst-smelling rainstorm of all time. This may have been the most disgusting moment of his life thus far, both tactilely and tastefully foul, and again Mason felt some self-preservation urge kicking in hard, trying to make him run away without looking back. This was so wrong.

Yet another equally-baser instinct kept him rooted right here before Lori’s feet, while he still quivered and turned pallid from squeamishness. Just as Mason experienced a new lifetime extreme of repulsion, he’d also never felt so invigorated as he did in this moment. Even that overshadowing stress of his yet-to-be-unlocked deviant powers faded away from his thoughts completely for the first time in two weeks, bringing him calm in the strangest most-denigrating of circumstances. It made no earthly sense: every physiological system within Mason was overheated, tensed, and screaming at him to get away from this gruesome atmosphere, as well as the mountainous naked female feet which had produced it. But still he wanted to be here. Needed it. In fact, he couldn’t bear to pull himself away. His heartrate was rampaging now and his groin pulsated at maximum need, all with resplendent almost-mouthwatering enchantment over his mother Lori’s sleepy soles.

Right then, Mason knew it wouldn’t be enough just to come closer and take in a stronger huff of that soiled leathery-saltwater aura, without even coming into contact with on her foot, like he’d promised himself he wouldn’t. Just like he apparently couldn’t control his body’s own self-sabotaging meta-ability, there was no taming his fetish, now that it had come to light. It was better just to give in now, Mason concluded, rather than allowing the craving for her odiously magnificent feet to devour him. Maybe, if he simply got it out of his system once, he could move on. At first trying to shakily rise, but ultimately remaining on his hands and knees like a dog, he crawled straight through the sweat puddle. Just disturbing that cloudy fluid was enough to stir up the toxic vinegared aroma like decay bubbling up from below a swamp. Now only a hairsbreadth from his mother’s foot itself, able to see nothing else from so close but the micro-ridges and irregular wrinkles in that flesh texture gleaming beneath an oily shell of wrung-out perspiration, Mason hesitated only an instant longer. But then his erection pleadingly twitched in his pants, setting off a gasp of simultaneous loathing and hunger, and the inch-tall boy pressed both hands against the rounded resting altar of Lori’s heel.

Despite his ardor, he was careful not to either tickle her or press too substantially, for fear of rousing his mother awake. Not that he’d done anything incestuously incriminating at this point, nor did he plan to. But still Mason couldn’t shake the feeling that everything would eventually go bad for him if Lori caught him kneeling in a grody puddle of her torrid sweat, with his miniscule palms squashed hard against her skin and his face hovering so close as well that it probably looked like he wanted to steal a kiss. As he could’ve guessed, his mother’s heel was slick and totally sodden-through with the slimiest skin-pruning brand of sweat imaginable, as if she’d spent all day marinating her size-14s in a full bathtub – which in a way, she had, if she’d kept those flats on through every class period, suffering through the heated buildup. Just plying the meagerest pressure upon this supple anchor-point of Lori’s quashy foot was sufficient to make liquid gush free as though from a fountain, oozing down Mason’s arms and soaking into his already-damp clothes. Still, as smushy and pliant as this outer texture was, he could feel tougher resistance waiting just beneath, understanding implicitly just how much crushing momentum this same foot could generate if it were to come hammering down upon him with even modest force. He really was nothing next to it.

Then came another burst of contained heat flowing all through Lori’s body. The giantess muttered in her sleep, her hair flashed flaming-orange, and then Mason directly felt that fiery wave radiating out from her foot and into his own tiny form. It didn’t quite hurt to touch, but nevertheless was unnaturally hot, to a degree that would’ve made him think Lori was in immediate combustible danger if not for his knowledge of her superpower, and the flare-up seemed to induce more piping-warm perspired seepage to stream from her heel. Unnerving as it was to endure at first, by the time he’d held onto his mother’s heel for a second round, Mason was beginning to enjoy the sensation of those heat-waves pumping from her flesh into his. Especially because each vehement pulse was accompanied by an incredibly subtle vibration thrumming through her foot, plus another gunky spout-off of her abhorrently-fragrant sweat baptizing over him. Still bowed on his knees and quaking with every breath, he’d managed to choke down the earlier coughing out of stealthy necessity, even if the brackish salt-packed stench had in no way diminished. The queasiness definitely wasn’t easing off, either, but nonetheless, Mason was only getting more turned-on by the second, now half-drenched Lori’s foot sweat and savoring the drum-like passage of heat through her massive heel with every successive flare.