Unknown and Unlucky (Chapter 4)

Though the special straps held me fast to the ground, I could feel my body threatening to peel upward off the compaction-baked leather insole right along with her foot, so great was the pressure, like a flower petal stuck to the undercarriage of a car, and that was certainly about how small I felt underneath her by comparison. As the threads of the stranger’s stocking loosened, leaving blushing imprints on my nudity for several seconds afterward, for just a flash, I could feel my pricked-up member catching in the narrow window between a couple of wider-spread silk lines, and for that flash, the sensitive tip of my abused cock poked through the hole and made fleeting contact with the flesh of her arch itself, just as cushy and putty-like as it looked during the suspenseful minutes when the entire complex of her sole hung overhead, right before she nearly stamped the life out of me for good. And, Christ almighty, it made me flinch in the loins just a little, no matter whether that very same sole my dick just caressed had come so near to killing me less than a minute before.

            Even without that mammoth quantity of perspiration-laced stocking mesh and foot brawn resting atop me until a near-fatal collapse, though, my body was still having trouble catching up while abandoned once again on the slanted basin. I simply couldn’t fully inflate my lungs, as though I’d been punched in the gut and had the wind knocked out of me on a semi-permanent basis. This of course only panicked me further, worsening my condition. What if she was trying to give me time to recover and I was losing it all, leaving me even weaker for the next assuredly-final squish?

            Though she’d put her shoe back on, I noticed the distinct lack of seismic motion exerting on the walls of the white high-heel, nor an uptick in weight indicating the giantess’s entire body was concentrated down on me yet. The strain had remained consistent the whole time, methodical and focused, which meant she hadn’t even needed to actually walk on me to nearly cripple half the systems in my thumbnail-sized body. My head was spinning and I felt nauseous, resulting in an eerie coolness in my veins, in spite of the otherwise oppressive and lingering heat leftover from having a gargantuan foot planted on top of me, cooking me worse than a sauna or a day spent nude on a beach in July. If she could do that to me just by lithely slipping her foot back into her shoe and holding down until she felt me nearly slip into eternal rest via air supply loss, but without standing as she normally would, was I crazy to hope for survival beyond the first real giant step? Likely.

            As well, once her foot was lifted away, I no longer felt as though I was marooned in isolation in the center of a beaten-down insole. Even though her sole was now flexed even higher than before out of the shoe, letting in more light and with enough of an incline that I could actually see the spongy tree-trunks of her toes just peeping out of the shadows below, the space felt more restrictive than ever. It was as though the shoe was getting smaller with every passing second, but her foot was only getting larger, falling toward me no matter how steeply she bent her dewy sole-rimples along that luxuriously deep arch.

            Fear gripped me in a way I never imagined it could, no matter how much I reasoned that she’d intentionally avoided snuffing me out, and that I was now unpinned, with a thorough chance to take deep breaths. I simply couldn’t shake the sensation of being stepped upon at such a miniscule and insignificant stature. The air around me had become staler in the interim, somehow, flavored more richly from the sour-punch of sweat seasoning the aged leather, plus a hint of tropical perfume and melon soap, though most of which was heavily clouded over by the complicated stench of acrid perspiration, feminine odor, and spiced grime.

            These were all the kinds of perfect imperfections I would’ve drooled over if I wasn’t a shrunken captive in her shoe just one stride away from eking out my last breath. I’d certainly coaxed enough reluctant dates into foot worship before, and filched enough friends’ used stockings when they weren’t looking, to know what I liked. Of course, there is such a thing as too much of a good thing, and just as I’d found that to be true while being railroaded under an isle’s worth of glamorous, curvy sole anatomy, I discovered the usually hard-on-inducing pleasures of a “little” musk didn’t quite apply when I was lost in a literal smoggy haze of damp foot-essence air. It would’ve been enough to make my throat close up for retching, if the lung compression of her “answer” to my questions hadn’t already sealed me up so tight.

            “Hey, you did a really good job for your first time!” the giantess exclaimed with genuine happiness. She’d left me in such a low place after my close call, mentally and physically, I actually let myself get caught up in her hopeful attitude for a second before recalling that she could only have been congratulating me for surviving a foot-strangling from a stockinged unknown. Not exactly the least shameful praise. “You’re lucky I practiced for so long. The girl in the bookstore… God, why can’t I remember her name, I probably owe her a thank-you note… she said most people can get the hang of it in a week, but I said no, I want to make sure I get full use out of whatever freak I pick, if I’m going to go to all the trouble of shrinking him and making him into the little slave runt he deserves to be. So I practiced with the model for a whole month. And still, the real thing is so much better.”

            My jaw was already hanging agape from failed attempts to re-oxygenate, but now it really went slack at my continued realization of just how outmatched I was by this gigantic being in power, knowledge, and intention. I didn’t even know what she looked like, let alone who she was. I had nothing over her, and she had everything over me.

            “I’m serious,” she rambled on, almost in a trance, “To feel you just… wiggling down there, hard as you could. Struggling for your life, like some pill-bug I just flipped over on a sidewalk when I was a kid. You could barely move, obviously, because I don’t want you to yet, but it was enough to feel. The way your little lips were just puffing cool against my skin, even when it was so warm down there… God, it was a little bit like a drug, but only a tease of it. I still could feel everything on you, obviously. Yes, I do mean EVERY part. Honestly, for a second there, right when you were almost used up, I thought to myself, there’s no way even someone who’s as big of a freak for feet as this loser can still be into it when he’s about to die. But there you went anyway, surprising me! Not a whole erection, but I felt it trying to get inside my stocking. Wanting to get to the next game early, huh? Well, you better hold your horses. I’m not going to be any softer with you next time, even when I’m just stepping on you with nothing between us. In fact, I’m going to have to compensate by being tougher, aren’t I? Not like I can’t. We both know you can take it. Yes, I’m just going to push you to the absolute edge of what you can handle, and now I know exactly where that is, down to the second. Wow, aren’t you glad I picked you for this, and not some dumb bitch who would’ve just crushed your head in on accident during the first dry run?”