Time-Out: Nancy's Way (Chapter 16)

The hours of begrudging hardworking sexual fulfillment in Nancy’s shoe blurred together. In the back of his mind, though, Scott could sense that they had indeed been gone for a long time, most of the day even, without so much as a heel-popping break for her to arch her foot out of the stiletto and grant her personal toe-lover some refreshing light and oxygenated coolness. Over his many years of time-outs at Judy’s feet, literally half his life, Scott had suffered through a great number of similar marathons to this before, mashed and scrunched and sweat-bathed within the prison of someone’s shoe from practically sunup to sundown. And while he’d learned to numb himself to the tribulations of such extreme treatment in order to avoid an outright nervous breakdown while spending eight or more hours in a never-ending avalanche of muscular perspiration-steeped giantess toe-tip globes, it had always been impossible for even a seasoned in-shoe veteran like Scott to come out unscathed. Such day-long confinements and deplorable trample-fests, though they at least didn’t tend to inflict severe injuries, still never failed to dangerously dehydrate the boy, sap him of all energy, and sometimes even lurch him into unconsciousness.

By contrast, on this endless and mysteriously-satiating day under Nancy, Scott couldn’t recall ever feeling more alive while serving the most frequent consequence of his shrunken house arrest. It wasn’t just the recurring orgasms she was pulling out of him which were to blame for his wakefulness, though, as they were up to five now since she’d stowed him down here this morning below her wonderfully unwashed peds. It was his changing appetite for this belittling aura, this savagely sweaty musk, and this orgiastic entwinement with her toes that had so revitalized Scott and kept him on hornier high-alert than any prior heavy-soled isolation in any familial wardens’ footwear. It was like he’d become effectively immune to the baking temperature, the brackish scents, the skin-clinched claustrophobia, and the overall sense-dampening abyss quality of being worn in a woman’s shoe: all the factors that normally would’ve worn him down to a desperately fatigued shell of himself by lunchtime. Those same traits, once burdens that weighed on his shrunken pancaked form almost as heavily as the giantess’s bare foot itself, had now transformed into benefits that empowered the little one’s resolve, humility, and thirst for Nancy’s titanic gifts. It was, at once, a bizarre kind of salvation from the nearly lifelong torture of being stuck to the bottom of someone’s foot, and also by far the most demented day of Scott’s complicated life.

###

“I wonder how long you’re going to keep pretending this isn’t what you wanted to happen all along, hon,” Nancy simpered with an egregious smile that night, keeping both hands relaxingly pillowed behind her head on the couch, as she reclined with each newly-naked heel propped on the coffee table, and her inch-tall spiritual foot-slave gently gripped between her two largest toes. In slow motion, every now and again, she bunched her digits together and then curled them ever-so-slightly downward, causing the meaty slopes of her yoga-conditioned soles to become plushly festooned with wrinkles, though even as she playfully squeezed and rocked Scott about from his awkward perch slotted between overpowering toes, she always ensured their line of sight to one another wasn’t broken. “Typical male. You could have the truth staring you right in the face, and you would still come up with any story you needed so you could keep on stroking that ego, no matter how small it already is. Except… I’ve always known there are certain special things about you that made you not so typical, sweetheart. I mean that. You’ve just taken a long time to let them come on out to the surface. But that’s all right by me. I’m patient, and we’ve got all the time in the world. Well, one more day, at least, before I take you back to Mommy. Still, a lot can happen in a day. Can’t it now, Scott?”

The one-incher, feeling objectively spent after nine straight hours of underfoot worship and repeated toe-jerkings, but also by no means painfully exhausted, had no response. As usual, Nancy had embarrassingly inflated reality in order to better tease him, insinuating his freshly-unearthed devotion to her feet was just a long-dormant fantasy of his that she’d discovered, rather than forced upon him by years of repetition, sensual deprivation, and a shrunken-equivalent of Stockholm Syndrome. On the other hand, even if he was in the mood to try debating her – which he most certainly wasn’t – Scott definitively knew that there was at least a grain of truth in Nancy’s usual taunting-cougar bravado. He was different now. Far too much had happened in her shoes yesterday and today for him to ever have a chance of claiming mad coincidences or unlucky biology. Psychologically, if not legally, Scott Stevens now belonged to Nancy’s mighty authoritarian sweat-baptized feet.

So he kept silent but held her gaze while clutched in the grasp of her toes with his half-erect dick prodding into the doughy curvature of foot flesh between, realizing that whether he tried to babble through a response to her words or not, they both saw what was happening here. There was no point in fighting it.

Nancy opened her mouth to purr out some no-doubt outrageous next line in her seductive ridiculing of her unspoken foot disciple, wholeheartedly grinning in the process. Before she could utter a syllable, however, her phone buzzed from the adjacent sofa cushion. Scott could see his mother’s name displayed on the caller ID, causing his heartbeat to race even faster – not because he was anxious to go home, but because deep down, he didn’t wish to leave Nancy’s stead. Without interrupting her smile or even tearing her attention away from the shrunken nudist grappled in her toes for a second, the giantess answered the call.

“Well, hello, Judy dear!” Nancy enthusiastically chimed into the speaker. “Now, now, be careful you don’t go telling me too much about all the fun you and the kids are having out there, or else I’m liable to get jealous. Well, only a little bit. I have to admit, I’m having an absolute ball with this delightful little angel you left with me, no vacation required. Go ahead, then. Spill the tea. Oh, what’s that? What about the… uh-huh… but then that other conference, with the… oh, I see… huh! What a pickle they’ve put you in there. I think it’s safe to call that man a major nuisance, if not a grade-A jackass, depending on how fired up you’re feeling. Yes, yes, of course I understand it’s not your fault, dear. We planned too well for you to have made the mistake, not them. You’re always prepared, which is why this campaign is in the bag. What’s that? Oh, don’t make me laugh, Judy! Just listen to yourself! Going on and on, asking me for a “favor,” as if it wouldn’t be a privilege! Yes, of COURSE, I’d be happy to watch over your precious firstborn for a while longer until you fly home. Nonsense! I wasn’t just saying that before for your sake. We really are having quite a time together. As you can imagine. What’s that? Oh, yes, I realize you’re not even sure when you can come home now. So what? A few more days, a week? Hell, even a month wouldn’t be so bad! You went all the way over there to make an impact, and listen to me: you are NOT coming back until you’ve seen it through, dear! I mean that! So don’t you worry about Scott for even a moment. His Auntie Nancy is going to take very good care of him until his Mommy comes home!”

---

THE END (for now)