Careful What You Wish For (Chapter 8)

This only went on for a heartbeat’s length, though, before Diane stepped back down with even greater magnitude than she’d used to put the footwear back on, and Cody’s face was again ruthlessly bulldozed by the even more aggressive WHOOOMP of her heel. His nose was obliterated again on contact, and the rest of his face was made to endure subtly-greater turmoil than before too, as the giantess naturally wasn’t just holding still in place once she’d let her chlorined undersole refill those flip-flop depressions, but was actively shifting her comparatively-enormous weight forth and using the poor shrinker’s face as a squishy highly-breakable launching pad. His voice was understandably muted by the meaty bulk of heel squashed against his mouth, but Cody nonetheless let loose a gravelly scream that might have been audible if someone had chosen to place their ear directly next to Diane’s foot on the ground now. His shrill groan was allowed a little more volume as that pounding stride from her immense foot cycled into another, all in the span of fractional seconds, but it still didn’t stand a chance of getting him noticed above the noise around the pool, or even the repetitive clapping clomp of the group’s beachy flip-flopped feet on-the-go. When his nose was again repaired and the face-flattening torture sensations temporarily soothed, Cody shrieked like a banshee, as he was still coherent enough to know what he was in for next. And he really didn’t want to get his newly-fixed face bashed in again.

Yet that was precisely what happened for a third time, then a fourth and fifth and sixth, before those bludgeoning footfalls became too hectic and brain-scrambling for Cody to individually count. Everything happened quickly, since it was a relatively-short trip for Diane and the others to march around the pool area as they continued chatting and giggling, but the time felt elongated to a harrowing crawl for the transformed shoe-man unwittingly going through the equivalent of car crash trauma every other step below her. It never failed. Each full-footed assault, innocent and functional as it was on the giantess’s part, smashed Cody’s nose to a deformed nub and made the rest of his puny face feel like it was on the verge of popping just as easily. While pangs radiated through his trembling features in spider-webbing micro-shockwaves, the soggy zinc-aromatic flesh of her heel sagged wearily down upon his tested features, practically molding this vulnerable piece of his leftover humanity into her skin until his head almost matched the concave dip of the insole. Having his face change shape to blend into his surroundings would’ve been Cody’s preference at this point, since it might’ve spared him worse injury, but Kayla’s cruel kindness of automatically mending his broken half-head back to health in between each of her stepmom’s lunges ensured that Cody’s weepy fatigued expression was turned into a fresh canvas for Diane’s foot every damn time – gasping for oxygen, yelping for leniency, and absolutely ripe for the squishing.

After some lazy wandering on the part of mostly-unaware titanesses above, during which Cody alternated between yelling for help and pleading for Diane to sit down, the little guy got his wish, but still not in the way he’d hoped. She settled into a lounge chair and even lifted her flop-clad foot off the ground, allowing it to comfortably dangle in midair, but only after another heel-smashdown that, conveniently, refused to heal as quickly as the other occasions. As a result, while Cody was no longer in direct continuous contact with the bottom of Diane’s foot, his pathetic insole-grown countenance was still battered into submission from the last time it served as a cushion for her leaden march. Feebly, he mewled for attention in between grunts and croaks for breath through his nose, which by now had been deformed enough times by the drop of her gigantic foot that it may as well have been made of clay. None of these noises were noticed, however, which was even more heartbreaking considering he was slightly closer to Diane, Bri, and Ashley’s ears now.

And every time Cody felt like he might’ve built up enough stamina to let rip a louder scream, by sheer damning misfortune, Diane would clamp her toes harder around the thong-strap, causing the angled-down shoe stage to thwack playfully back into taut parallel contact with her foot. Though nothing about it felt playful to Cody, as these motions on the giantess’s part – totally mindless and idle – only deepened the brute-force dolor on his literally downtrodden partial-head. It was debatable whether he would even be recognized as himself if Diane somehow spotted him under her suspended foot now, with his nose being crunched in, his eyes fearfully clenched shut, bruises spotting his features, and a caked-over sheen of pool water and grimy sweat from her flesh now decorating his like salty gloss. At some point in his continued failed attempts to be found, then, Cody realized the group was ready to head indoors – again at Kayla’s strategic request – and he was subjected to more face-compressing misery, as the raised hump of his face was effectively treated like a miniscule drum beneath a stick that could beat it apart in just one tap. Having no clue how many dozens or even hundreds of times his hybrid features had been malformed, corrected, and then mushed all over again by Diane’s inattentive foot today, Cody was vaguely aware later that the quartet of swim-suited goddesses were back in the living room, where he was looking forward to another chance for her to sit and break up the constant nose-crushing punishment upon her malleable little victim. Even though, deep down, a part of him knew this opportunity was probably going to prove just as useless as the last.

As it turned out, though, Cody was foolish even to have hoped for the moderate reprieve of Diane dangling her foot again while seated cross-legged in an armchair, let alone a shot at salvation. No sooner had the giantess chosen her seat, still mid-conversation with Ashley and obviously having no reason whatsoever to look down at the empty cushion she was about to fall upon, when Kayla’s slave felt himself morphing again. Not back into a person, though, or even into another imprisoning section of the leather flip-flop, but into a downier pillow-like terrain. Blinking, Cody looked up in time from his new unwanted object-body to realize that he was now the powerless target of Diane’s tan toned bikini-swaddled booty mere instants before it dropped. Kayla had made him her cushion. Cody opened his mouth to cry her name, since he was higher up now and no longer too crumpled-up by tramples to speak, which meant he might’ve had a chance, but the giantess’s perky rapidly-descending glutes were too quick for him.

A fraction of a breath away from what was sure to be a concussive cheek-clapping burial beneath Diane’s bikini-blessed hindquarters, however, Cody’s consciousness flashed away and re-morphed all over again with a startling jolt, just before she could actually sit on his runty face. These recurring whirlwind transformations in and out of different grotesquely-merged inanimate objects at whim were starting to tax him almost as severely as those obliterating chlorine-scented footfalls under his heedless giant stepmother-in-law by the pool. This time, Cody’s shock was worse, as he found he was no longer even in the family’s living room or surrounded by anyone who might want to help him, but instead the cavernous whitewashed sanctum of Kayla’s gym, without a friendly soul around. His readjustment to his newly swapped form – which just so happened to be a disheveled fiber-balding sweat rag gripped in his smiling owner’s hand – was harsher this time, too, as if he was awakening from a week-long coma, complete with drowsy weakness and a pounding headache.