All Work, No Play (Chapter 3)

Patrick hadn’t been able to stop thinking about what happened under the desk at his cubicle neighbor’s feet three days ago, and he doubted he ever would. Naturally he couldn’t ever breathe a word of what happened to anyone, afraid of either offending his oblivious giant coworker, or of the maelstrom of humiliation such a revelation would bring down, if people found out how he’d so helplessly responded when simply sharing the humid fragrant mildly-unkempt wiggly-toed aura of Libby’s bewitching bare peds in all their size-11 enormity. He alternated every hour between self-loathing and self-pity at his desperate lust-fueled response. Yet no matter whether he was berating or feeling sorry for himself at the time, Patrick couldn’t deny the influence those feet had over him, or his guilty-yet-unshakeable desire to experience an encounter like that again. And considering he was destined to share a half-enclosed space with the kindhearted but somewhat-absentminded giantess’s carpet-massaging soles and busily-idling toes for the foreseeable future while serving his inch-tall sentence, it wasn’t exactly far-fetched to hope for such a repeat of that serendipitous rendezvous.

Though for the few workdays that followed that first touchless exchange, Libby’s feet kept their distance. They remained housed inside her navy-blue flats for much longer hourly stretches at a time, fidgeting and joint-popping and tapping upon the floor, but stayed cooped inside. And when they did finally emerge from the shoes, she splayed her thick toes and propped her pleated soles up at a slant beneath her chair, at quite a distance from her coworker. Patrick knew this behavior was just as luck-based as the day when she’d unwittingly sheltered him beneath her naked grit-speckled arches until the atmosphere itself brought him to orgasm, but he still couldn’t help but feel disappointed, spending almost as many hours just staring longingly after those gargantuan peds as he did completing his actual workload. For those feet, there was no schedule to follow and no active input from Libby, so long as she was professionally absorbed in her duties above the desk: her peds just seemed to act upon whatever subconscious need was greatest, whether stretching, relaxing, airing out, or playfully keeping active in order to counteract the straining dullness of another long day at the Cambralart office. Even though they were a part of Libby, so long as Patrick was clocked in and at his lowly post, those feet may as well have been entirely separate entities from her.

The one-incher’s well-hidden patience paid off on the fourth day subsequent to that unexpected up-close meeting. Libby’s flats were pried off within the first hour, while he could hear her typing at her keyboard above with particularly speedy ferocity, and taking more work-necessary phone calls than usual. She was absolutely in-the-zone, which evidently translated to her now-bare feet requiring some of the liberation and recreation the auburn-tressed giantess herself couldn’t afford overhead. Swiftly forgetting his own responsibilities, Patrick watched those size-11s dance in thin air: scrunchily waggling her digits, waving both sizable peds back and forth windshield wiper-style, and gently yet resonantly bopping her heels against the floor every which way. Even through the simplest actions, the shrinker could observe the raw power present in Libby’s feet, not to mention the perky animatedness of their conduct and once again the finer details of her moderately-grungy but nonetheless undeniably beautiful undersoles. They were still too far off for him to directly experience their warmth or aroma, but seeing them directly in motion – combined with his vivid memories of that first time – was enough stimulation to rev Patrick up already. Sitting back in his chair and gripping the edge of his shrunken desk for support while witnessing Libby’s unaware show, the little thing could feel himself bulging below the belt even quicker than before.

But shortly thereafter, far sooner than he could’ve even hoped, Patrick didn’t even have to fill in the blanks with his imagination. Libby’s feet ceased their restless toe-flexing airtime, during which she’d kept her peachy artfully-wrinkled arches in plain view of her coworker yet well beyond his reach, and then abruptly brought both appendages cruising directly toward that same spot they’d chosen to rest last time: straight above her one-inch neighbor’s humble workstation. There was no buildup this time, though. Rather than distractedly shuffling her dual propped peds by a hairsbreadth at a time until those meaty soles were wearily overshadowing Patrick, they innately sped right into that intimately-near position, covering the tiny desk and its occupant so completely in the blink of an eye that the little fellow nearly jolted out of his chair. At once, his view was dominated much more by the shaded flesh-divots furrowed along both broad undersides of Libby’s feet than by the sterile gray architecture of the humongous cubicle beyond.

After only a few minutes of his reinstated front-row seat beneath the giantess’s nude soles in all their ample creasy rosy-skinned glory, Patrick could feel himself getting close to the edge. The heat and scent of feet wasn’t as intense as it was last time, owing to it being earlier in the day with less time yet spent trapped in those flats, but there was still enough exuded balminess in the cramped air, coupled with a flavorful sweet-and-sour ruggedness in that smell, to make it a potent experience for the shrinker. Breathless, and close to climax without ever daring to touch himself, Patrick wondered how he’d gotten so lucky to get this desk assignment. Immediately after that thought, however, his prior fortunes seemed boringly average compared to the covetous fate which next wonderfully befell him. Out of the blue, sending Patrick into a rush of momentary panic and lasting uber-arousal, Libby’s right foot dipped yet lower, closing the mere three-inch gap that still separated her unknowing sole from her coworker, and made direct contact with him.

It was a rather-rough impact and quite startling, though any variety of touch would’ve seemed that way to someone as small as him. But the doughy plushness of the giantess’s sole flesh made up for any unthinking force on her part, jostling the shrinker in his chair without inflicting any more harm they he would’ve incurred from an enthusiastic pillow fight. Even that first touch, fleeting as it was, had an effect on Patrick almost as profound as the entire period he’d spent below Libby’s feet last time.