Time-Out: Nancy's Dominion (Chapter 5)

That revelation could’ve only come now, at the height of Nancy’s deific daring, as she twiddled Scott’s naked sole-mushed body toward the most humiliating and fulfilling orgasm of their transformative time spent together this month. The realization of the path he was descending down right now, of the potential non-future that awaited him as nothing more than a sexual toe toy belonging to his mother’s power-hungry best friend, finally penetrated through the hedonistic haze that the one-inch boy had been allowing himself to savor so openly all this time, rather than letting it destroy him from shame. Scott saw what he might become. And at last the proverbial bill of all those embarrassments and pleasures and metamorphosizing that he’d experienced down at Nancy’s feet this month came due. It was now or never to reverse his course, the boy told himself.

But he didn’t give into the despair or hysteria of that disastrous subhuman fate he saw for himself. With remarkable objectivity, especially for someone who was unstoppably about to climax yet again while Nancy finger-kneaded his naked shape into the doughiest plain of her warm dimpled undersole, Scott decided that he wouldn’t allow that down-spiral to happen. Only a few hours before Nancy went out to lunch today and took him along, Judy had called and announced that she was – for real this time – concluded with her business across state lines, and would be returning to retrieve her miniature eldest. The moment had come to sever this thread. He would put this entire episode with Nancy behind him, marking these sexual phenomena in the shoes of a former enemy as nothing more than necessary reliefs during this current deeply-challenging season of his life while under shrunken house arrest. And then he would become himself again. So intense was Scott’s determination in this conclusion that his belief didn’t waver even when the giantess’s thumb granted one last firm pump against his back, he licked that ruddy sole flesh with all his puny might, and his excitement erupted yet again upon the vastness of her foot. This was the beginning of the end. And he would be just fine.

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            With those ecstatic memories from his complicated time at Nancy’s feet relived so vivaciously one final time, Scott officially and consciously closed the book on this odd fleeting chapter of his tumultuous young life. This phase had been purged. He knew that maybe it was naïve to think he could cut himself off from such confusing gray-area debauchery in one instantaneous stroke. But regardless, as he sat on his babysitter’s tabletop still waiting for Judy to arrive, he understood that he at least had to try. Scott was in control of precious little in his own life: after all, he was about to return to the regularly-scheduled house arrest routine under his mother’s roof, where his every waking hour would be spent either dusting the floors, rubbing someone’s toes beneath a desk, or staring dead-eyed at a wall and wondering what normalcy would even feel like now. The one thing he could still control, however, was his mind. Even if every family member and too-intimate friend had legal permission to use his miniscule jittering frame as both additional insole padding and a personal perspiration sponge while stuffed down into their cramped footwear, they couldn’t take that sense of self away from him.

            Then finally came the doorbell toll. Just like that, it was all over.

After that, Scott’s long-delayed departure from Nancy’s ritzy fortress happened with far less pomp and fanfare than he’d anticipated. Not that he minded such an anticlimax in the least, as he was so dead-set upon a necessary clean break from the perilously psyche-altering gratifications of the gigantic cougar’s domain. Still, having known Nancy for so many years – and seen the way she could milk drama out of any circumstance, let alone one where she’d just spent a solid month personally remaking him into her shrunken foot-worshiping thrall – the boy had justifiably expected her to make the most of his exit. Even if she chose not to tell Judy every sordid detail of what she’d done to him (though that kind of bare-naked honesty wasn’t necessarily outside the realm of possibility for someone as shameless as Nancy, either), she could still so easily have drawn out the goodbye to a disturbingly provocative degree. She could’ve winked at him, blown kisses, licked her lips, dangled her shoe, waggled her toes, or thrown her usual mix of coarse innuendos into her rambling report to Scott’s mother of their time spent together.

Yet, almost in defiance of every natural instinct she had previously displayed in private, Nancy did none of those things. Instead, after Judy’s profuse thanks for having taken on the burden of the boy’s stewardship for so much longer than expected, Nancy insisted in the pleasantest most-platonic tone that the time had simply flown by: that Scott had been a model guest, and that she was perfectly willing to offer the same favor again in the future whenever it was necessary. Even when Judy pressed for details while suspiciously studying her inch-high son in the palm of her hand, vowing that there was no need to hold back if the boy had misbehaved or disobeyed at all for even an instant while under her care, Nancy doubled down. She looked her friend straight in the eyes, smiled with rare convincing sincerity, and swore that not a single thing had gone amiss during Scott’s stay. This testimony had last seemed to satisfy Judy, as they made their way back out the door. And when Nancy’s gaze finally snared Scott’s for one last glimpse, even when his mother wasn’t looking too, she waved farewell to him only with reserved friendliness that belied the thirty straight days of filthy toe-pimping in-shoe revelry they’d just committed together. As if nothing out of the ordinary had happened at all between them.

The innocence and composure of that look from his hostess surprised Scott almost as much as any of the crazily fetishistic “firsts” he’d experienced over these past weeks while increasingly bent to the mature siren-like giantess’s will. Even then, he kept expecting to see a glimmer of impish taunting behind her eyes, or a curl at the corner of her lips to suggest perhaps she wasn’t really through with him after all. But that look didn’t come. The door shut, Judy carried him back to the car, and Scott was able to reaffirm his newly-chosen conviction that his exodus from Nancy’s shoes would also mark his exodus from this version of himself. She herself seemed totally content to let him go and not spend another thought upon their time together as anything more than a perverted fling. Why shouldn’t Scott do precisely the same, then?

Then the engine revved up, Judy pulled out of the driveway, and Nancy’s house disappeared from view. In one relieving rush, the whole scandalous collapse of Scott’s being while under his secret mistress’s watch – his priorities, his urges, his dignity, his identity itself – was seemingly undone, and reverted to normalcy. He felt… cured. The one-inch boy, nestled down in his cupholder-mounted safety seat in his parent’s looming shadow, was surer than ever that the “real” him was back at last. Even returning to the same degrading freedom-stripping drudgery while under his giant mother’s supervision sounded deeply welcome to Scott now, as miserable as it had made him ever since his shrunken house arrest commenced, if only because he knew who he was while Judy possessed him. There was danger of giving in too far to primal needs or bending to some ominously dehumanizing will, like he’d begun to dread happening with Nancy. Judy Stevens may have been a tyrant of a mom: condescending, egotistical, self-serving, and sometimes frightfully heavy-handed (or heavy-footed) when it came to discipline. But at least Scott never had to wonder if he was losing himself while serving under her unreasonable rule.

To that end, now that they were alone, Judy immediately launched into a happily loquacious rundown of all the important work she’d accomplished while out of state, much of it revolving around her political one-ups and successful furthering of the Shrink Act, which so often was like pouring salt in the wound for Scott. Much of that effort on her part, after all, was directly the reason why his interminable punishment miniaturized at her feet was still ongoing. This time, however, Scott was only too grateful to get back to the old routine with Judy – dispiriting and humiliating as it often was, yes, but at least safe from the erosion of his own integrity. So he sat back in the cupholder seat, nodding dutifully and grim-smiling along as he craned his neck back to meet his mother’s occasional glances down at him. This felt ordinary. Familiar. Even natural, screwed up as that idea would’ve once felt. He could and would be all right after all.