Falling In (Chapter 9)

Milo was thankful for Betty’s provocative endorsement again, though with this final murmured edict, it wasn’t much of a decision on his part. So long as he continued drawing in this latest overload of fantastically smutty sweat-explosive stimulation through every available orifice, while the giantess herself kept puppeteering his tiny body so enticingly against her lively sole, he very soon wouldn’t have much of a choice whether to “stop” or not. His biology was going to make the call for him, as the endorphins were already rapturously flowing in readiness for the climactic surge. Even having cummed several times today from the malodor and momentum of the once-unaware giantess’s mighty gait, Milo could tell that the intensity of each repetition never dulled, as each orgasmic experience inside her boot was just as ecstatic as that first-ever pubescent finish years ago. This one, in particular, felt like it was going to be historic. In fact, it was almost shocking that he hadn’t lost control already. Every atom of him longed painfully to complete, only this time with the gargantuan Emissary’s blessing. Yet, as badly as Milo needed to cross the finish line, some part of him also wished to stay at this near-summit of euphoria for as long as possible, if not forever: with his body soused in Betty’s oozing foot sweat, his senses deeply entwined with that smoldering saltwater gunk, his face swimming in that sumptuous sole flesh, and his cock about to combust from sheer devotion.

Of course the giantess, too, was every bit as aware that Milo couldn’t really stop this from happening now, even if he’d wanted. As she’d steadily allowed him to exhibit the full scope of his twisted love for her oily peds, it became ever-clearer to her that he would listen to any whispered command she issued, folding into her whims and subjugating himself on every existential level while plastered there so needily on a pliant slab of size-14 landmass. He really was under her control now. So long as she let him so close to her feet, rasping in that putrefied boot-funk like oxygen and paying tongued tithes with every sole-groove he licked, she probably could have gotten him to do anything. Though this discovery hadn’t come by accident. The longer Betty tested out this hypothesis with Milo, the more of the so-called crackpot’s research she recalled. She distinctly remembered a notion which even the scientist hadn’t been able to play out, but extrapolated from his tests: that if the inferior subjects were allowed to “bond” with the source of those overpowering Vault-protected pheromones to the greatest extreme, whatever form that might take, then their loyalty would go beyond mere desire. They’d become perfectly suggestible, he wrote, and possibly beholden to this much-grander superior species in every way.

It wasn’t Betty’s intention to make Milo her slave, nor any other three-inch-tall occupants of the valley who almost certainly did exist. She was certain of that. And when she’d emerged from Vault 124, ready to help plant the seeds of a new human civilization above ground, she’d promised herself first that she’d follow the Emissary protocol to the letter, and second that she’d do everything in her power to maintain peace with whatever life forms she might or might not encounter out in the reborn wasteland. Conflict, after all, was the reason that humanity had to hide underground for so long in the first place, and it was their responsibility as the planet-redeeming generation to do better. Nevertheless, it was becoming increasingly clear to Betty that her work to turn this valley into a settlement zone couldn’t be called a success until she’d established a relationship with every living thing that would be impacted by the Vault dwellers’ return. They had to be united, she decided: perhaps not as equals, exactly, but at least in a spirit of fairness and happiness. With that mission in mind, Betty did what was necessary to prove the final piece of the Vault scientist’s doctrine.

 “You’re almost there now, aren’t you?” the giantess strategically crooned. “I can tell. And that’s okay. If that’s what you really feel, then you should keep feeling it. Don’t close your mouth. Don’t stop breathing it in. Keep licking. Keep kissing. Show me how you feel. I want you to have as much of my foot as you can. And I know you want it, too.”

She rubbed Milo in even more firmly against that marshy putty-lush sole, roughly now, knowing that the tiny thing’s apparent contentment after a day of getting trampled meant that he could not only handle plenty of force, but seemed to prefer it. With her thumb still poised at his spine for back-and-forth massaging, she held her index fingertip against the back of his head, and pressed it in like a button, so there was really no escaping his licking duties. Finally, her middle fingernail slipped into the band of his frayed pants, still riddled in her salty gloop and barely held together after so much concussive punishment, before she yanked them down for him. It was a wonder such fragile rags hadn’t already disintegrated throughout the course of this exertive day. Which meant it took less effort than tearing toilet paper for Betty to leave Milo half-naked, now with his bare crotch mashed enthusiastically into that beefy façade of her arch pleats.

By now, he could only react with worming gratitude to anything she did, seemingly on behalf of his depraved pleasure. Milo really was blown away to an unfathomable pinnacle. This time yesterday, he didn’t know that colossal humanoid women even existed, nor the thrall over him their miasmic sweat-viscous feet would possess; now, here he was, not sure he deserved such erotic benevolence from Betty, but no matter his unworthiness, about to cross a point of no return anyway with stronger passion than he’d ever experienced in his life. Milo groaned with carnal yearning, going inanimately limp in the giantess’s grasp, while lapping and imbibing her sweaty-footed glory to the hip-bouncing pace of his own sublime exhilaration. It almost felt like a miracle.

Betty felt him spasm magnificently when he finally gave in, though he admirably continued worshipping even for breathless seconds after busting to the new-best finish yet. She was only too happy to oblige him that chance, as she was seriously beginning to derive some tantalized fun of her own from this unexpectedly empowering way of ending her first day in the valley. While she wouldn’t have guessed it previously, the Emissary quite enjoyed the sensation of his wiggling limbs, dedicated tongue, and tired hard-on all sweeping against her sole. Still, all titillating amusement aside, Betty still had a job to do here, and she intended to make the most of this opportunity she’d scientifically engineered. Though the girl did feel a touch of guilt at basically “using” Milo to help place him in a maximally agreeable state, she comforted herself with the knowledge that others in the Vault might not have prioritized peace and friendship with the local three-inch-tall population, as she planned to do, if they’d been sent here instead of her. This really would be the best thing for everyone.

“There you go. Just relax now. See how good it can be, sharing how we feel, and getting to know each other so well?” Betty uttered to Milo, as she finally peeled him free from his libidinous starfish posture.

Expectedly, he now appeared just as loopily off-kilter and greased in her sweat as he did when he first fell out of that overturned boot, only now with no more reason to conceal his filthy affection. Though she didn’t want to take him too far away from that powerful source of his lustful obedience, either, and cradled him in her palm just a hairsbreadth away from the creamy canvas of damp wrinkles. Knowing she might not have long before Milo’s sexually-charged bond with her enormous foot diminished from this peak level, Betty leaned in low enough to hear even a meek reply, then sighed:

“It’s not just you who lives here, is it?”

“No. It’s not,” he dazily answered. Milo heard himself admit this fact he’d vowed never to reveal to the leviathan six-foot-four invader. But even knowing the gravity of what he’d just said, the everlasting afterglow from that orgasm made him feel a visceral attachment to her, such that he now believed wholly in her goodness. And even if he didn’t, it would’ve been physically impossible for him to lie right now while under her sweaty anti-radioactive spell.

“I won’t hurt any of them. I promise you, I won’t. I only want good things for them. Just like I wanted for you,” Betty explained. “But I have to meet them, before my work here is finished. I have to make them see that I’m a friend. Will you show me where they are, Milo? The others like you?”

“Yes,” he replied, no longer plagued by a stammer in his freshly-cemented fealty to Betty Sherman and her feet. “I will.”

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THE END (for now!)