Work From Home (Chapter 2)

Recalling their conversation after her partial blackout now, the memory came rushing back to Blair. She ran her fingers through her golden hair, her eyes boggling at the notion of making her father into a mewling slave like whatever-his-name-was. Crazy as those thoughts had been, the even more insane part was that just thinking about that fantastical concept again made her feel just as confident and contented with the concept of shrinking Carl into a more valuable member of the household: a little nagging voice telling her it was simply the correct thing to do, no matter how impossible.

“Yeah, I… remember,” Blair said. “Why?”

“Where’s your dad now?” Larissa asked nonchalantly. From the corner of her eye, she peeked at her backless clogs, using the rubbery edge to scratch an itch on her calf.

“Oh, I don’t know. I guess sleeping upstairs, probably. Usually I come home and his game is still going at full volume. Honestly it’s such a headache, it’s nice to come home once in a while and…” Blair continued, stopping herself as the first pieces of illogic started clicking together. She looked to Larissa, heart aflutter. “Um, Lar? Do you… know something?”

“Know something? Like what?”

 “Like where my dad is?” Blair looked from Larissa’s coy expression, then down the length of her body to those clogs the redhead liked so much, absentmindedly rubbing and clunking softly against one another.

“Oh, I don’t know. You tell me.” Yawning, and stretching both arms out to the side, Larissa pretended to make herself more comfortable, kicking the heels of her clogs together and prying them off her tired feet. Both pieces of dark leather footwear clunked to the floor below. Under her left stocking-clad foot, strapped into his extra-special home-ec project habitat, was Ted, just like last time. While most of his body was tethered to the scratchy, dried-sweat-flecked fibers of the dark nylon, a tiny hole cut out of the fabric allowed his micro-junk to poke through the fabric sole and touch skin-to-skin with Larissa’s heaven-sent wrinkles. She batted her foot about for a moment, then crossed her opposite leg over the other, revealing the right foot instead. There, under the shiny material, Blair spotted a lump-shape, just as small as Ted’s, entrapped fully inside the imprisoning netting of the giant redhead’s well-worn stocking. When the blonde leaned closer, hunched over the ottoman, until her face was mere inches from the underside of her best friend’s stocking-wrapped ped for closer examination, she put her suspicions to rest. Inside the dark tunnel, hugged tightly to Larissa’s pale, tender, fragrant sole was none other than Carl, Blair’s good-for-nothing father, naked and shrunken to a puny size now roughly approximating how highly she actually thought of him.

“I… think you’ve got my dad in there,” Blair responded after a pregnant pause. She breathed heavily for a moment, feeling an instinctive sensation of panic at the thought of what would happen next, before that logical reaction was quickly trumped by something far more delicious. This, now, was everything she’d wanted, but been unable to put fully into words without Larissa’s help, let alone even believe it could come true. The blonde held a hand over her lips, trembling, stewing with inner conflict, but ultimately coming to peace with it faster than she could’ve imagined.

“Hmm, yeah, that sounds about right,” Larissa nonchalantly admitted, filing her nails disinterestedly. She only partially bothered to stifle a smile, however. “What do you think?”

“H-How… I mean, how did you manage to…”

“Well, like I told you, the whole shrinking thing would just take care of itself. As you can see, I don’t just say things without meaning it. Then, I just took your great idea and put it to use.”

“My idea?” Though she remained engaged in the conversation, Blair’s attention was focused exclusively on the nylon-encased landscape of her friend’s foot, and the tiny weary lump of her father within. She poked him in the back, pinning him harder to the flesh through the netting just like Larissa had to Ted, and felt an electric tingle in her spine at the overwhelming power differential which suddenly existed between her and her father.

“About the work-from-home ad? Try to keep up, silly,” Larissa teased. “Anyway, like you said, I just put it in the newspaper, and I made it nice and tempting, like he could just sit on his ass all day and make a bunch of money, so that even his lazy self couldn’t say no. So, he showed up to answer for the job, which I hired him for, and the rest… like I said… took care of itself.”

“Holy shit…” Blair breathed with reverence. She gracefully stroked her fingertips once more over her plump pop’s shrunken, emasculated shape so thoroughly plastered against Larissa’s sole by the combination of stocking pressure and his now-giant daughter’s own tinkering digits. “What are you… going to do with him?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Anyway, I just got him the job, but I think it’s only right that you be his new boss.”

“Yeah?” Blair couldn’t help but smile again, her body awash with goosebumps. She twiddled her thumbs, already imagining the sensation of a tiny helpless person trapped between her palms, or even far more demeaning places. Exultant glee exuded from every pore. “Well, then… since you’re kind of the expert on this stuff, why don’t you show me how to be a good boss for such a loyal work-from-home employee?”

Meanwhile, both stimulated and suffering greatly amidst the casual carnage of his “little” girl’s exploratory fingers, the sweaty scratchy nylon expanse, and the vertical canvas itself of pearlescent, moist female foot flesh, was Carl. He’d been thrown into such an insane series of events since leaving the house to answer that gold mine of a work-from-home ad, that he’d barely been able to process anything, neither the fact that he instead found his daughter’s sexy redheaded friend at the place where he was supposed to meet his new employers, or this bizarre dreamscape reality where he’d shrunken to a mere fraction of his former size. Even when he’d looked up at the towering behemoth of Larissa’s body looming overhead, pretend-threatening to squish him like a bug under her heels, before instead peeling away a stocking and storing him inside it, Carl still wrestled with accepting this as anything other than a hazy nightmare, perhaps induced by all his energy drinks, 24/7 gaming, and online foot porn. After all, he’d secretly dreamed of getting this close up with Larissa’s shapely peds before, though he never imagined it would be while they were the size of battleships to him. Now, and only now, when he was brought before the terrifying visage of his gigantic, lovely, golden-haired angel of a daughter, did the little man at last come to grips with what was happening to him.

At the first sight of Blair, Carl’s heart fluttered with hope. Even though he couldn’t deny the fetishistic rush of being nakedly cuddled against the bare sole of someone who had it going on as much as Larissa, the fear of being bloodily obliterated by a humongous foot took slight precedence over being aroused at its silken texture and feminine fragrance. While he didn’t know much about Larissa, as evidenced by her metaphysical ability to reduce human beings to the size of roaches, Carl did know that the girl was frigid, domineering, and a born leader. Those were attractive qualities during the time he spent fantasizing about her, or peeping on her from the other room while Larissa and Blair hung out, but in a body that tall and powerful, they were a bit more intimidating, and Carl had to grapple with the possibility that, at any moment, her foot would flex at the wrong angle while careening toward the floor for another step, and his guts would instantly liquefy like salve into the elegant creases of this pale, meaty sole.

Thus, at the sight of his daughter beyond the fabric cage of the stocking, Carl felt the first relief he’d experienced during this whole crazy episode. His daughter had grown apart from him in the last few years, that was true, and her body language and face usually expressed some annoyance with him, but the man had always chalked that up to the typical attitude of any eighteen-year-old girl toward her father. Deep down, he knew, she felt the same affection for her daddy that she always had, and upon seeing him so tiny here, imprisoned in a friend’s musky nylon with his face and cock each swaddled in rubbery foot-wrinkle skin, Carl had no doubt that she’d come through for his rescue.

At least, that was what he believed with every atom of his being, right up until he saw his daughter’s blank and possibly confused countenance change, first with a creeping smile, then soon projecting what Carl could only interpret as complete, enraptured elation. She laughed, even, and openly discussed his state with Larissa, as though the sight of a shrunken person was no shock to her. Not only that, by the snatches of booming conversation he managed to parse in between having it drowned out by swooshing nylon material and his daughter’s own thudding, trunk-like fingers, he determined that Blair had come up with this idea herself. Her. His daughter, the one he’d helped raise into a beautiful, admittedly-sexy young adult, was not only comfortable with what had happened to him, but apparently complicit in it continuing. When Carl realized he wasn’t about to be liberated, and in fact euphemistically tormented for the amusement of his daughter and her friend, he shivered, now more from apprehension than the continual latent arousal he’d been experiencing for the past couple hours inside that giant clog.

“Sure, I can show you how,” Larissa agreed. She lifted her foot off the ottoman, straightening her leg, and held it aloft with balletic focus. Carl seemed to hover at the exact center of her arch, his body facing hellishly inward to the slab of damp, overworked skin. Then, pinching the fabric at the level of her knees with both hands, Larissa yanked the stocking taut, as hard and high as she could. Instantly, the nylon morphed even more exactly to the perfect contours of her leg and foot, no longer merely tight-fitting, but snug as a second skin. The dark stocking lightened in shade as it was stretched nearly to the breaking point, flushing a healthy peach as light refracted through and revealed Larissa’s smooth leg. Shiny and fashionable, the material made the ginger look like she belonged in a high-rent lingerie commercial, with the one crucial difference being the diminutive, dehumanized living beings cupped under each sole.

The act of stretching the nylon down her leg was relatively subtle, something that Larissa could’ve done a dozen times a day without thinking or drawing any attention aside from the usual admirers. For Carl, however, it meant a stomach-turning cataclysm. He felt the tug of gravity trying to drag him down the slope of Larissa’s foot, which was just lacking in friction enough, thanks to its warm dampness, that he could’ve easily plopped to the bottom of the stocking, which was a considerable distance for one so small and out of shape. However, before this could happen, the previously loose-fitting mesh cage of the stocking went rigid, snapping around him and clasping him spread-eagle against Larissa’s plush sole. No part of his body wasn’t currently squeezed against a doughy arch-wrinkle, and the little man could scarcely contract his lungs enough to breathe. Stocking threads stretched and dug at his bare back, itching and even inflicting some mild pain. The enormous girl was pulling unrelentingly tight now, as though vacuum-sealing her own foot inside the stocking, removing all traces of empty space, and fastening Carl in place upon her hovering foot’s underside by pure tension. Much tighter, and the stocking mesh might simply grind the little man into flecks upon the firm sole like a cheese grater.