Big Time Espionage (Chapter 8)

The phenomenon which ultimately snapped Alpha out of his humble reverie and into action was the giantess’s left foot, previously arched ball-down and toes splayed against the floor, now lurching toward him again without warning. Charlie still clung onto her digits in front, but Beta was swept out of the way like errant detritus when her wrinkly crescent arch barreled toward him like a capacious sea vessel pushing through strong waves. The force of that swat was just enough to make him tumble back and vault involuntarily over the low wall of her flat. Alpha made no move to defend himself, only holding his breath and refusing to blink, as her foot hoisted off the ground and then revolved slowly in midair. Charlie, too, was cast aside when her toes flexed apart, this time dropping him into her empty shoe along with Beta.

So when her absentminded heel met the ground again with another bone-rattling thunk, practically in arm’s reach, it was only Alpha who remained free to go forth and pay his respects. That foot soon collapsed sideways, resting lengthwise with the creasy-fleshed mural of her beefy peach-rose sole fully exposed in vertical. At once, the supple underbelly of the unwitting worker’s arch was all he could see. Even better, as she began to spread and scrunch her toes in a rapidly rippling pattern, the elastic tessellations of dimples along her sole skin constantly shifted, deepening then smoothing then furrowing in new directions. Alpha’s eyes darted, dutifully following every wrinkle; his already-limited air caught in his chest; his hands shook, struggling now just as his teammates all had earlier to rid himself of any annoying fabric obstacles that still kept his needful loins apart from that arresting source of godly beauty.

This was the sign he’d been waiting for, without even knowing it. Alpha threw himself at that foot, scrambling up the pithy wall and using the swollen puff of each sole wrinkle as a squishy handhold. Without a single misstep, he reached the middle of her arch, where the flesh was plushest and dampest, and the pruny divots all concentrated toward a single star-like center right as her toes coincidentally clenched together in their tightest line-farming permutation. The musk of her foot was so potent here, tempting and all-consuming as any weapons-grade aphrodisiac, that Alpha almost felt like he might float away, right out the window and into the sky. But he couldn’t allow himself to be separated from her again, even if such a result was possible. He clung on snugly to that bunched-up cluster of pleated sole rimples, wedging his hips right up against the plumpest set so that his raring hard-on fit in just right, and then commenced fucking that gloriously soft wrinkle with a fiery devoutness unmatched by anything he’d ever done in his life before. Back and forth, in and out, he bucked himself into a frenzy, and quickly found he was awash in so much endorphin-soaked mania that it was almost a miracle he could still hang on at all.

His puny mitts cleaved on too direly to be shaken free by his own overwhelmed headspace, however, and once Alpha had purposefully squashed his face against the wrinkle neighboring just above that one for a mid-hump make-out, he had more than enough leverage to stay here for the inevitably short-lived duration of this hyper-charged podophilic devotional. He’d never felt more alive, as every muscle in his body was reprogrammed exclusively to aid in either lasciviously tonguing or making perverse love to those tantalizing moldably-creamy alien sole creases, while each sense and nerve ending was reconditioned only to build him rapidly toward the greatest finish he could’ve imagined. No solid surface he’d ever touched, so spongy and yielding, had ever felt so pleasing; no scent filling his lungs or flavor greeting his throat, especially an essence so squalidly dank, had ever changed his life in the way this one had. Alpha felt complete now, existentially and sensually. Pure a realization that pheromone-twisted thought may have been for the spy, however, it didn’t quite match the wretchedly sinful physical display he was putting on while hornily suckered to the sultry bottom of the heedless giantess’s foot. Humping, sputtering, and thrashing like a drunken insect, Alpha too spasmed into a bout of euphoric body-wracking orgasm that topped every past sexual culmination combined.

In the same instant that he climactically spurted into that wrinkled-lipped ravine of her glowing pink sole, his whole body limped into ragdoll slackness and his mind flashed to a neutral blank: completely spent. Now lacking anywhere close to the strength or will required to actively hang onto her foot, Alpha might’ve easily come unpeeled again, and plunked onto the floor in a waking post-orgasmic coma. Yet by serendipity alone, he was caught in place there by the Xartanian’s opposite heel, which tipped diagonally over from that parallel shoe, and rubbed itself firmly against the principle slab of her sole. That gift of pressure, asphyxiating and blackout-threatening though it was, solidified Alpha in a lovingly splayed posture against the same wrinkly undersole spot he’d just coitally served, and was more than sufficient now to keep him adhered like a man-shaped bumper sticker as her left foot levitated from its soothingly capsized position.

Now suspended with her gigantic arch facing the ground, the diminutive spy was pasted upside-down to her skin only by the grace of her sticky-dried flat sweat and leftover compression friction, and didn’t begin to loosen until a shadow was already cast across her vacant shoe’s wear-battered insole again. He, too, was taking a journey now. Beta and Charlie crawled clear of her descending sole only in the nick of time, though they weren’t in much of a hurry either, as both naked spies remained just as hormonally drunk on her electrifying fragrance. In one unassuming whoosh of her toes, and a concussive flesh-clapping THWOOOOOMP from the meaty remainder down south, the giantess slipped her foot back into its vessel, and simultaneously did the same on the other side. Without every being a whit the wiser, the cheerful purple-maned Xartanian kept up the productive spree at her holographic station for the rest of her uninterrupted workday – only now with six quarter-inch-tall invaders erotically wasted on her pheromones, sprinkled into her shoes, and captively smushed into a balmy flesh-void against whatever random contour of her astronomic feet struck them first while readorning her flats.

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THE END