A Son’s Demise
Despite his naturally small stature and frequent bouts of social awkwardness, Timmy Collins was an average eighteen-year old kid. He’d just graduated high school and was looking forward to a care-free summer before going off to college in the fall. Since he rarely found girls in a hurry to date him, and had few close friends, summer meant time to pursue his “project”, as he referred to it. Little did Timmy realize that this “free” time to engage in his extracurricular activities would cost him more than he could ever fathom.
He was, as mentioned, rather short, standing only five foot four. He had sandy- blond hair, and a naturally servile demeanor about him. He had always suffered the insults leveled his way from the other boys his age, particularly the females. They saw how pathetic, and emotionally underdeveloped he was, and used this to humiliate him in front of his classmates. Needless to say, Timmy was happy to be finished with high school. If it weren’t for his diary and the occasional company of his mother, he wouldn’t know what to do.
Also contributing to his social estrangement was the fact that he was an only child and had nearly been orphaned at age twelve. His father had been killed in a car accident and his mother, whose name is Jane, had narrowly escaped a similar fate. She had broken several ribs and both of her legs in the ordeal, and had remained a single, hard-working mother ever since. She was still quite striking at forty-years of age, with medium length brown hair and hypnotically beautiful green eyes. Her legs, long since healed, were very well-toned and yet still sexy and feminine. A daily ten mile run ensured that they remained this way. Her Irish heritage, while not apparent perhaps from her hair color, was evident in those eyes. She was also quite tall, and at five foot eleven, dwarfed her son. She worked as a secretary at a well-to-do legal agency in town, and frequently had to work late. Consequently, Timmy was often left home alone in the evenings to fix himself dinner and so on.
Altogether, he and his beautiful mother were content, and had a fairly close relationship. When she was around, they often would watch movies together or go out to eat. After all, all they seemingly had were each other. And if Timmy was ever on the floor scribbling away at his personal journal, due to their height and size differences, Jane would at times jokingly walk by either in her heels or bare feet, and threaten to “squish” her little boy under her “big” feet. Unbeknownst to her, these occasions filled her son with much anxiety and stomach fluttering. For Timmy, maybe due to his small size, poor self-esteem, or a combination of both, was seemingly cursed with a secret, a curse. He had become more and more aroused by imagery of female dominance, particularly with instances whereby strong, powerful women tortured and humiliated men under their feet. Furthermore, Timmy was most attracted to the giantess scene, particularly where the woman shrunk a man or boy down to various intervals, eventually to only an inch or so, where, after much torture at strong feminine soles, would crush them beneath her feet.
And while he wrote about and perused the internet for all sorts of scenarios involving giantess/shrinking scenarios (student/teacher; boss/secretary; husband/wife; boyfriend/girlfriend, etc..) he was infatuated with those that focused on a mother shrinking her son for possessing forbidden fantasies, and torturing him with her feet. While he embraced for himself the fantasy of being shrunk slowly, being forced to experience a woman’s feet at different heights before being ground to dust beneath them, the footwear was different at various times. If he was around two or three feet tall in his fantasies, he wanted the woman to be barefoot and to resemble an amazon or Greek goddess. But when the time came to be finished off, he wanted it done, of course after much torture, while the woman wore nylons.
Little did Jane know, but by jokingly and innocently saying something like this while looking down at Timmy, she was inserting herself more and more into his sick fantasies. By age 18, his entire fetish for giantess foot domination had become focused squarely on his mother Jane. In fact, he had written in exquisite detail an entire scenario involving his mother discovering his fetish for her hard working feet and punishing him repeatedly with them before gruesomely destroying him. But, while this was for Timmy a kind of hobby, a perverted fantasy, he had slowly become emboldened enough to smell his mother’s pumps while she was away at work. But his favorite thing to do besides smell her shoes and dirty nylons was to take one of his old GI Joe action figures, and pretend it was him. He would use his mom’s shoe to step on the figure and place it inside the pump until he became increasingly aroused by this action and would climax inside his pants. The use of a small toy as a standby for himself while pretending his mom’s foot was encased within the shoe, seemed to satiate his fetish for the time being.
But aside from circumstances of accident, which had left he and his mother with only each other to depend on, what about his mother’s feet so turned him on? What lent the conceptual fuel to imagine being the victim of them after much humiliation and torture? For that, one must go back to the time after the car accident. With two broken legs and several ribs, Jane had been in no position to really take care of herself. Timmy had done a great job of ministering to her needs, but became fixated on her feet, the way they looked, how large and perfect they were. He remembered clumsily and embarrassingly having to bath her, but really only remembered and cared about his interactions with those feet, the way they smelled so strong and pungent beforehand, and how she would coo and sigh during his frequent foot rubs that he gave her during her healing period. Oh, how he could recall when she gained some mobility back in those legs of hers, how during one of her foot rubs she playfully placed on of them over his face, nearly covering it completely. “Oh sweetie, look how big my foot is compared to your little head!” She had left it there for a few moments, enjoying the exchange with her little boy, who had been nice enough to rub her stinky feet for her. “Mom, come on” he said, “Your feet smell bad.” Jane had laughed, scrunched her toes playfully over his nose, and took it off to allow him to continue the massage. “You’re such a good boy Timmy; I think rubbing my feet should excuse you from having to smell them!”
It was here that the first seeds of Timmy’s fetish were planted. His mother had no idea how through these rather trivial and mundane exchanges, had inadvertently inculcated within her son a lust for her feet Now that the background has been sufficiently related, we can begin the tale of how Timmy’s forbidden attraction to his mother’s feet eventually will lead to A Son’s Demise.
Monday morning, 8:00 A.M., the alarm sounded as loud as a trumpet. “Damn it, why the hell can’t I sleep in on the first day of my summer vacation!”, Timmy asked himself as he reluctantly pulled the covers back, dreading having to get up and work. He’d promised his mother that he would take today and clean the house for her. It was pretty much a mess due to Jane having had to work late for the past two weeks, and since neither one of them really enjoyed living in filth, and on account of him being off from school, he’d agreed to get their humble abode back into acceptable condition. Timmy looked down at the tent in his boxers, “a morning hardon with no time to take care of it, just great”, he said aloud. Just then he heard a quick knock on his bedroom door followed by the twist of the door handle. “Shit, what was her point of knocking if she had no intention of waiting for a response?” Timmy quickly attempted to pull the sheets back over his hardon, but it was not use, his mother quickly zeroed in on it, as one would have to be blind to not notice the bulge! “Um, uh, sorry Timmy, I should have waited for you to respond, but I’m running late and just wanted to make sure you were up and still willing to clean up.” Timmy, caught with a boner, nonetheless pulled the covers up over himself. He had some, just not a whole a lot of self-respect. “Yeah mom, I’m awake and will clean up.” He looked at his mother, standing there beside his bed. She looked positively radiant, with her red blouse, hair pulled back into a ponytail, and black nylon encased legs. His gauze wandered down further, where, just as he expected, she was wearing her favorite (and his!) black high-heeled pumps. “Hello, little one, you still awake?” Jane’s sweet but slightly annoyed voice called Timmy back from his reverie. “Yep, I’m just tired is all. Don’t worry, I’ll start as soon as you’re gone.” Jane smiled. “Thanks pumpkin, I really appreciate this, and I’ll make it up to you tomorrow. We’ll go to our favorite restaurant.” With that, she bent down, kissed his head and strove off out of his room. On the way out, Timmy couldn’t help but notice the swish her nylon legs made as she left. The click of her well-worn pumps on his wooden floor sent shivers down his spine as he thought about what it would’ve been like if his mother had barged into his room to crush him under her feet instead of to wake him up. The deviant thought immediately reminded him of his throbbing hard on. As he heard the garage door open and close, signaling that his mother was definitely gone for the day, Timmy thought to himself, “Well, I could take an hour to refine my notebook and play with her other shoes.” After all, if he waited to partake in his perverted ritual, it would just linger with him throughout the day. “Might as well get it out the way now”, he thought. Of course, it took several releases per day for Timmy to feel truly purged of his urges temporarily. His mother was just too much too even contemplate for long without needing the sweet release visions of himself at her mercy, beneath her unforgiving feet, offered to his young mind.
First, Timmy pulled on a t-shirt and shorts, and made his bed. He then opened his closet door, where he kept his secret diary detailing his fantasies of his mother safely stashed beneath a dummy compartment in a small storage cabinet. Grabbing it and a pencil, he opened up to where he had left off. In this particular concocted scenario, his mother, after having absolutely demoralized and humiliated him, both physically and emotionally with her bare feet, had just shrunken him down to half an inch tall. She had left him trapped inside of one of her black boots the whole day while away at work. When she arrived back home, she was wearing a white blouse with her standard black nylons and pumps. Timmy was so tiny, and so scared all day as he lay inside of her big, smelly boots that Jane wore occasionally out dancing with one of her few girlfriends. He heard the click of her heels as she sauntered into her room. He heard her humming a song to herself, and now that he could hear clearly, he noticed it was Nancy Sinatra’s “These Boots were Made for Walking.”
“So, is my little boy ready to experience mommy’s smelly after-work feet, hmm?” With that, Jane picked up her boot and deposited Timmy into her soft, well-manicured hand. He was entirely naked, and looked up at her with fear. “I thought of you all day, Timmy, trying to imagine what it was going to be like to allow you live out your little fantasies. If I would have known how much you liked my big stinky feet, I would have done this for you years ago. Now, let’s get you acquainted with my feet . Would you like that, to smell my feet after I've worked so hard all day to make sure you have a good life and education. Don't you think that would be a nice thing for such an ungrateful little son like you to do for his mother?"
I promise and swear to you that I’ll stop fantasizing about your feet, please don’t do this! Please don't make me smell your feet, they’ll be too much for me at this size!"
"Sorry, little one, but you need to smell how hard I work for you.” With that Jane placed Timmy on the floor. She nonchalantly kicked of her pumps into the corner of her bedroom, and playfully scrunched her powerful toes above him, anticipating the feel of his little naked body under them. Finally with a smirk that he’d seen many times throughout his young life, his mother lowered her giant, nyloned foot down over him. Immediately Timmy became frantic and disoriented. The smell was so unbelievably intense that he began to hyperventilate. It was a potent cross between dried feminine sweat and rotten, dried fruit.
Jane picked Timmy up and threateningly squeezed him in between her mammoth toes. "Are you enjoying yourself pumpkin? I hope you're learning your place regarding your mother, which is at my feet. You are so vulnerable right now; you know how easy it would be for me to just smush you right out of existence with my stinky toes?" But I’ll hold off on that for awhile. According to your little journal, you want me to force you to smell my feet for awhile before crushing you to dust beneath them!”
Finally, mustering up enough strength to speak Timmy pleaded with Jane. “I can't take this much more, you're killing me." "Oh, I fully realize that if I were to keep doing this to you for the whole day that you would no doubt expire from having to smell my feet. Lucky for you, that’s exactly what I'll be doing."
At this point, Jane was careful to not hurt Timmy. She intended for him to simply breathe in her foot stink. She was so punishing to him, making sure he experienced each nook and crevice of her foot, including in between each of her toes. Finally, after fifteen minutes of being taken apart by her feet, with a final squeeze that released a fair amount of foot sweat to wash over his naked form, Timmy’s mother let him drop to the ground with a sickeningly wet flop. He was drenched to the bone from her sweat, and humiliated beyond words. All Timmy could do was barely crawl, and he started to.
"Not so fast little guy." With a flick of her big toe, Jane turned him over. Timmy again found himself staring up into his mother's pretty face. She smiled down at him, and after brushing her brown hair back, placed her hands on her hips. "Now that you know what I can do to you, are you ready to be worn inside my pumps?, she said as she petted her son’s naked, quivering body with her toes. She then picked him up with those deadly toes again and dropped him into her freshly worn pumps. “You'd better be ready for these”, she said, flexing her toes. "And this time, I’m going to finish you off. You’re going under my feet until you’re dissolved into nothing but a greasy little stain."
Timmy turned over and looked up at his mother, who was now standing up and flexing her pungent, powerful toes right over him. The smell was unspeakably vulgar, and he began to cough from the powerful stench. "I’m so glad that you have a foot fetish, because you're going to be experiencing more foot than any human being has ever before. Don't worry though, with how hard I sweat, I doubt you'll survive into next morning. But just in case you don't die from the smell and sweat, I promise to end your life by crushing you to pulp beneath them."
This was it, the moment of truth. Surprisingly, Timmy’s Jane was in a good mood about all of this, and was excited about what she was about to do to him. She laughed, and playfully flexed her arms like a body builder, to demonstrate to Timmy her absolute maternal superiority over him. After blowing him a few kisses, she placed her monstrous sized foot into the pump. Timmy immediately was overtaken by her foot flesh and positioned under her unwashed toes. The deep folds of foot flesh punishingly bore down on his vulnerable frame. She maneuvered him around a bit, as if he were nothing more than a piece of fuzz or lint, and not her only son. Finally, after she had positioned him according to her satisfaction, she placed most of her weight down onto him. "Comfy sweetie?" she giggled.
Meanwhile, Timmy was already having the equivalent of a seizure, as Jane’s toes squirmed over his naked little body, capturing his tiny pee pee between her third and fourth toes, each fighting the other to rub themselves over his body and face. Timmy screamed for mercy as Jane begins to walk around the room, breaking in her new insole of a son. "I love how you feel down there, it feels so relaxing to know that my own little perverted son is firmly encased under my sweaty toes. I bet you had no idea of how your day was going to end...oops, I mean your life!" Timmy heard his mom laugh as she continued to walk around, grinding him further into her pump.
"I'm going to go to the grocery store for awhile sweetie. Feel free to continue to smell my feet, or squish for me. Although I do hope you don't crush for me too soon, as I so want you to die from the smell. That just seems too much more satisfactory for me. After all, you did write about how much you wanted to smell them, especially after I worked hard all day!” Now you can enjoy the fruition of your fantasy, and appreciate the feet of the woman who brought you into this world, and who will take you out of it.”
On her way out she stopped to look at herself in the living room full-length mirror. For a middle aged woman, she looked extremely impressive. Her striking green eyes and brown hair were enough to catch the eye of many a would be suitor. Too bad she wasn’t interested. Only one man deserved all of her attention, and that man was comfortably beneath her stinky feet. Her gaze followed downwards, to her attractively long nylon-encased legs. The daily running had worked wonders for her, as her legs were both very feminine and muscular. She raised her leg up slightly and flexed the ankle and foot that her son was inside. She pondered exactly how Timmy must have felt when he first looked upon her at this size. Her legs and powerful feet must have intimidated him to no end. She actually laughed out loud thinking of what he must be going through now. His sick fantasy was actually coming true. She was enacting it just the way Timmy had rendered it in his diary. "I bet my feet smell worse since I'm your mom, huh? Yea, that’s Ok little one, mommy understands her little boy’s needs. You're being such a good boy!" She smiled and left for the grocery store.
Timmy was drenched to the bone and had nearly lost his mind from being subjected to his mother's feet. The consistent scrunching had literally milked his cock, forcing him to spew three times in the matter of just an hour. She made sure to playfully reposition him under her toes and sole, making sure he experienced her whole foot, and all it had to offer. Not that it mattered to her, but while walking through the store, she heard an audible crunch, as several of Timmy’s bones collapsed beneath her toes. She nonchalantly bent down to see if he were dead. She smiled as she noticed he was still alive but in severe pain and in a state of shock. "Good, I was hoping to get to play with you when I got home."
By the time Jane arrived home, Timmy literally knew that he didn't have much time left. Her feet had taken a toll on him, and the end was near. Upon entering their home, Jane kicked off her pumps. She brought the shoe with Timmy up to her face and smelled. She grimaced and giggled. "This must be really awful for you, to be forced to smell your own mother's feet like this, huh?" She then dumped him out into her hand, marveling at how much his health had deteriorated so quickly. Shaking her head, she went and sat down on the couch and placed Timmy under her mammoth toes. Placing her strong legs up on the coffee table, she relaxed and flexed her toes over him, forcing him into her pungent crevices. The scrunch of her sweaty toes produced a squishing noise as Timmy’s body was punished unmercifully beneath them. Like a true goddess, Jane casually watched her feet slowly rob her little boy’s lungs of clean air and oxygen. Timmy’s own mother’s big feet were literally draining his life away, minute by minute.
Timmy started to breath harder as his heart began to give out. Such a little body was never meant to endure such punishment. His mother purred as she felt Timmy’s nose actually breathing in her stench in a desperate attempt to stay alive. "Come on sweetie, that's it, smell mommy's big feet for her." Finally, with a final convulsion, Timmy expired. His mother felt him go lifeless and emitted a sound partly of elation and partly of disappointment, disappointment that she wouldn’t be able to torture him anymore. To top off this scenario, Timmy had devised a particularly demoralizing end.
He envisioned that his mother, after scrunching and flexing his lifeless body in between her toes for awhile, scrunched down with all of her strength, smushing him into a tiny red stain on the underside of her deadly toes. Removing her nylons, Jane got up to go take relaxing bath and to store her nylons for keepsake. When she passed by a picture of Timmy and her taken last year, she stared at it for a moment. She then looked at the red stain of what was once her son, thought about his fantasy, then looked at the picture. Finding the contrast humorous, she smiled and proceeded into her bedroom.
When Timmy finished rendering this fantasy, he had most definitely taken care of his hardon. “Time to get to work”, he said to himself.
It took Timmy about six hours to clean the house. He swept and mopped the floors, dusted throughout, wiped the sink, tub, and countertops, took out the trash, and for good measure even vacuumed. However, he purposely kept his mother’s room until last to clean. All he had to do, or was SUPPOSED to do was dust her dresser and vacuum the rug. But Timmy being Timmy, knew before hand what else he would do while in there. Putting most of the cleaning supplies away, say for a dust rag and the dust buster, Timmy moseyed up to his mom’s room, which was rather spatice and elegant, with deep red carpeting and a Queen sized bed. But none of these things concerned little Timmy, for he had other plans. Not satisfied with conjuring up further disgusting scenarios for his mom to torture and destroy him with her feet, Timmy gravitated over to her shoe closet. Before opening the door, Timmy quickly closed the blinds of the window, which was located right next to the closet. “No need to get over anxious and have one of the neighbors accidentally see what goes on around here until mom gets home”, Timmy thought to himself. After taking the precautionary steps to ensure his secret, Timmy opened his mom’s shoe closet. While Jane owned, as do most woman, a wide array of shoes, she really only wore several regularly. Today, she was wearing her black pumps, so he greedily grabbed her other most-often worn pair, the red ones. With his hands literally shaking, Timmy placed the shoes down on the ground and layed down on his belly in front of them. He then imagined his mother standing directly in front of him, behind her shoes, mocking him for enjoying her smelly feet. He placed his nose into one of them, and breathed in deeply.
The smell, no matter how many times he did this, always jolted and surprised him with its ferocity, even if she hadn’t worn them in the past couple of days. Furthermore, they were pretty darn big, and with size twelve feet, Timmy’s nose and much of his face fit fairly snug into the shoe. As he envisioned Jane placing one of her big peds on the back of his head, slowly pushing his face further into the shoe, Timmy began to grow increasingly aroused by the images in his mind. Breathing in her dried sweat and rubbing himself something fierce, after only three minutes of stimulation, he exploded long, white, ribbons of sperm into his pants. The whole episode, while only lasting under five minutes, nonetheless tuckered Timmy out. He layed there for a few more minutes, taking in the pungency of his mom’s pumps before carefully putting them back into the closet. He then went into the bathroom to clean up the wet result of indulging in his fetish, and finished cleaning Jane’s bedroom.
About an hour later at 5:30, Timmy heard the garage door open, signaling the arrival of his mom back from work. He didn’t expect her home until at least 8:00, but didn’t really mind. After all, he’d indulged himself enough for the day and had made sure to hide his diary and put his mom’s pumps back in the closet. Plus, he would get to see his mom before she changed out of her work clothes, which always excited him. However, being slightly paranoid in general, Timmy quickly ran down stairs, flopped down on the couch, and turned on the television to ESPN. The more inconspicuous he appeared, the better. He heard the click click of high heels on the basement floor as the garage door closed. As Jane made her way up the stairs, Timmy wondered if they would go out to eat as she had promised, and if so, if she would keep the same clothes on. When Jane opened the door and walked into the living room, Timmy instinctively knew that she had had a bad day. When she was angry, you could always see it in her eyes and her determined stride. He sincerely hoped that he hadn’t done anything to incur her wrath, as he had seen his mother go from a mild-mannered, kind woman to vengeful hellion in a matter of seconds, particularly when the subject involved something he was responsible for. At those times, little Timmy could vividly imagine his mother punishing him with her large soles!
“Hey mom, how was your day”, he asked, despite already knowing the answer. Terrible, just terrible! We were so damn busy today that I didn’t even get a chance to eat lunch. Plus, I was up and running back and forth to the fax machine all day, and probably only sat in my desk chair for ten minutes the whole time! I’m tired, sweaty, and my feet hurt sooo bad.” Jane said this last part with a playful pout across her face, indicating to Timmy that, while her day may have sucked, she wasn’t angry with him. “Geez, Sweetie, I see you’ve been busy too! This place looks great; I’m really impressed.” No problem mom, I knew it needed cleaning, and I am home for the next three months. But, I was hoping that you’d keep your end of the bargain, and take us to dinner, preferably at that new Mexican restaurant.” Playfully sticking her tongue out at him, she responded, “Oh, that sound great, and yes, I had every intention of doing just that tonight. Just let me get out of these torturous pumps. Damn, my feet hurt!” All of a sudden, a thunderbolt of inspiration hit Timmy. Why not encourage her to keep her shoes on, and then offer to give her a foot rub when they got back home?”, he contemplated. But he’d wait to spring the foot rub idea until after they were home. He’d even try and make it look occidental and trivial while they were on the couch watching TV. “Hey mom, you know, it isn’t often that we get to hang out, especially go to a nice restaurant with both of us dressed up. Why don’t you grin and bear it with those shoes, and I’ll run up and get dressed in my khakis and a button down shirt!?” Oh, I don’t know Timmy, I really want to get out of them.” I could just put on my running shoes quickly while you’re getting dressed.” Um, no offense, but you wearing a blouse and black nylons just wouldn’t go with running shoes! Plus, if we don’t get their fairly soon, we’ll have to wait for ever.” Timmy then ran up to his room and hurriedly put on his dress clothes. Jane was amused by her son’s behavior, but also slightly perplexed. It wouldn’t take her long at all to change her shoes and clothes, so what was his deal? All well, he was right about the rarity of going out together dressed half way descent. Shrugging off Timmy’s logic, she sat down and waited for him to finish.
Their dinner at the restaurant was great, and both Jane and Timmy caught up with each other’s lives since they last spent quality time together. Jane asked how things were going and if he enjoyed being done with high school, etc… Timmy, while he did consider his mother to be his best friend, still blushed when the topic turned to girls. “So, is my little man seeing any pretty girls?, Jane good-naturedly asked her son. When Timmy turned red, refusing to answer definitively, Jane playfully prodded him with her foot underneath the table, which tormented Timmy even more. “Mom, come on, girls aren’t exactly something you talk about with you mom!” Jane, sensing her son’s apprehension, dropped the topic with just another playful prod from her foot, only this time, she had kicked her pump off and touched him with her foot. Even though the contact lasted only for a couple of seconds, Timmy felt the dampness and perspiration of his mom’s foot. When she took it away and put her foot back into her shoe, Timmy noticed that her foot had actually left a few beads of sweat on his pant leg. Jane, oblivious to the affect such contact had on her boy, just winked at him and commenced eating her meal.
They arrived back home around 8:30. Timmy was the first in the door, and rushed to the sofa and turned on the TV. He didn’t really care about the ball game that was on, but knew that his mother enjoyed watching some stupid sitcom at that time on Monday evenings, and wanted to get a rise out of her. “Oh not you don’t, you little punk, you know my favorite show is on!” Jane, half jokingly, half seriously, skirted after her obnoxious son and quickly sat down on the couch, immediately next to him. This had been part of Timmy’s sick plan, because he knew that his mother wouldn’t wait to change out of her work clothes before the show started. After situating themselves on the couch, his mother cleared her throat and extended her hand in a very dignified manner for the remote. Feigning reluctance, Timmy handed her the remote. “Good, I see you know what’s good for you”, Jane mockingly scolded him. After about ten minutes, Timmy heard the clunk sound of his mom’s pumps hitting the floor. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed her extend her long, lithe legs adorned in black nylons and scrunch and crack her toes. She cooed as she continued to flex her left foot in the air towards the TV. Timmy’s heart was beating a mile-a-minute as he peeked at the foot show his mother was putting on beside him. He also noticed a fairly strong smell emitting from her feet. After all, they had been encased in shoes and nylons from the early morning through the evening!
Jane then placed her feet on Timmy’s lap. Without looking at him, she smiled, teasingly scrunching her toes against his tummy in an attempt to tickle him. “So, you have any plans for the evening, or are you going to stay in and watch TV with me?” “Uh, I didn’t really have any plans, but, uh, do we have to watch this crap?” “YES, we do, twerp! If you don’t like it and are looking for something to do while my shows are on, why don’t you massage my feet for me? After all, you were the one that insisted that I wear my work clothes out, so what do you say, will you be a good little boy and rub mommy’s tired feet for her?” As Jane said this, she raised one of her feet up to just inches from Timmy’s face, and playfully cracked her perspiration-soaked toes, taunting him. Breathing in, Timmy was taken aback by the power her foot stink packed. He couldn’t even help it, his eyes began to water and his nose scrunched up. Jane giggled, “Aw, are my big feet too smelly for her little man?” Do it Timmy, or I’ll make you smell them till you pass out!” Jane was simply playing with him, but Timmy was struggling to contain his shaking and rapidly burgeoning tent in his khakis. “Ok OK, I’ll massage them, just keep them away from my face, man they stink!” Laughing, Jane said “deal” and lowered them to his lap. Timmy began kneading and rubbing his mother’s feet. He was in absolute ecstasy as Jane repositioned herself and squeezed her toes together in her son’s hands. The feel on his mom’s nylon-covered feet sent chills down his spine. They were so sweaty, and for the first time in quite some time, he noticed just how big her feet were. They easy dwarfed his hands. “His mother’s attention soon drifted off towards her sitcom, leaving Timmy to keep rubbing her tired feet. It was certainly a chore keeping them away from the raging hardon in his pants. “Thanks for doing this Timmy, you have no idea how good this feels!” “No problem mom.” “No problem huh? We’ll see about that mister!” Jane quickly raised both of her feet to Timmy, placing her wet soles on his face. They covered it entirely, and she playfully squished her toes over his face, forcing her foot stench to invade his nostrils. Timmy was actually unable to pull her feet off at first due to her size and strength advantage. When he finally did, his face was left with a gleaming shine of foot perspiration. Jane giggled, “I’m sooo sorry Timmy, where are my manners?” Please don’t stop rubbing them, I’m just playing!” Timmy was certainly shocked by this, and didn’t know how to react at first. Finally, gathering his senses, he commenced with the foot massage. Jane thought that “maybe he’d laugh or comment on how bad her feet stunk; hell, at least acknowledge the joke!” But Timmy just carried on as if nothing happened. “Nice kid”, Jane thought to herself, he just doesn’t want to hurt my feelings.” With a contented sigh, she turned her attention back to her shows.
But after about another half hour, Timmy made the first mistake in a series that would eventually lead to his demise: he accidentally let his mom’s feet slip for a moment! Her left foot landed squarely on his groin. Awoken from her television-induced trance, Jane looked down at where her foot had fallen, and saw briefly the tent her son was sporting. Timmy abruptly stood up and turned is back to his mom. “Well, I think I’ve paid up for you having to wear you pumps to dinner, so I guess I’ll be heading up to bed. I’m really tired all of a sudden”, Timmy lied. Without further comment he rushed upstairs in shame. He shut his door and laved down on his bed. His little face was still glazed in sweat from where his mom had rubbed her feet, and he could still smell them as if they were still planted on him.
Meanwhile, Jane was left feeling off-balanced. Had she seen what she thought she had, and felt, for that matter?” She was very concerned, as she would never want to make her son uncomfortable around her. Timmy’s reaction to her feet truly puzzled her, and she pledged to herself to give the issue more attention in the days to come. But she wanted to be careful to not hurt Timmy’s feelings; after all, he was still a young kid, still developing sexually. She silently scolded her self for being so inconsiderate. With that, she turned off the TV and made her way up to her bedroom, to shower and get ready for bed.
The next day, Jane dressed and went to work without waking Timmy. She had decided not to inquire further into his peculiar behavior the previous night. While she hadn’t dated in quite some time, preferring to go about her daily life as a secretary and single mother without unnecessary drama, she hadn’t been out of the “game” so long as to be ignorant of sexual fetishes. The more she thought about it, she gradually came to the conclusion that Timmy had a foot fetish. She smiled at the thought of her little boy having something as cute and innocent as a foot fetish, but she also determined not to feed into it either. After all, fetishes were obviously sexual, and she understood the inappropriateness of a mother purposely leading her son on, even if it was only her feet. Parking her car, Jane got out and examined her pump-clad ,nylon encased feet for a moment. “What the hell is so attractive about them that my own son would become sexually aroused by them?” she contemplated. With a carefree shrug, she opened the door and walked into her office, unknowingly smushing a small bug under those same feet on the way in, not planning to give Timmy’s fetish another thought.
Meanwhile, upon awaking, Timmy layed in bed with his pillow over his head, too embarrassed to even get out of bed. He had masturbated with a feverish intensity like never before, his mind imbued with not only visions of his mother punishing him under her feet, but with the remnants of her foot sweat fresh across his face. “How could I be so careless?” he though to himself. “Well, I can’t stay in bed forever, I might as well get up and face the rest of my life!” With that Timmy threw the pillow off of his face and got up, got dressed, and contemplated his situation. “Ok, so mom noticed my hardon and was too embarrassed to say anything. She’d seen one earlier that day when she woke him up in the morning. Ah, but she had to notice the correlation between your hardon and her feet, you assclown!”, Timmy screamed, almost aloud to himself. As the day went on, Timmy busied himself with reading comic books and watching TV. Around 3:00, his perverted libido couldn’t take it any longer, and he trooped up to his mom’s room to sniff her shoes. This time, his release was quick and to the point. He was agitated, caught up in his own concerns and neuroses. After his quick and dirty deed, he went to his room and retrieved his journal. After aimlessly attempting to come up with a new scenario, Timmy eventually gave up. Unfortunately for him, he absent-mindedly left the notebook detailing every word, every iota of his giantess mommy fantasy in lurid detail on his dresser. He had had every intention of putting it back after a quick, therapeutic shower. It’s a bitch when we forget those things which are so very important to our well-being, physically and emotionally. Timmy made the mistake of getting out of the shower only to hear the phone ringing insistently. He was surprised and delighted to find that it was one of his only friends, Matt, wanting to go see the latest horror flick at 4:30. Not used to being invited to anything, Timmy readily agreed, quickly dressed and left through the front door, happy to have relieved his mind of the prior night’s uncomfortableness. Meanwhile, Jane jubilantly decided to leave the office early and see if Timmy wanted to see that “stupid” horror movie he’d been droning on about for the past week. She only hoped that she could get in and changer clothes quickly so as to not arouse Timmy’s fetish. What Jane would discover would alter both of their lives forever.
Jane arrived home around 5:30, and was relieved to find that Timmy had apparently stepped out. He’d left a note on the kitchen table telling her of his plans. Slightly disappointed at having taken off a little early, apparently for nothing, Jane placated herself with the fact that Timmy had at least done something social with someone other than her. Plus, she was tired and decided to change out of her work clothes, especially her heels, and spend the rest of the day and evening lounging around. Maybe read one of her romance novels or magazines. Since it was so hot out, she decided to put on a pair of white shorts, a red t-shirt, and forgo wearing shoes or socks. Before settling in however, Jane decided to do a quick load of laundry. After collecting all of her own dirty clothes, she went into Timmy’s room to see if he had any clothes that needed washing. “probably a whole dresser full of them”, Jane mused. Timmy was usually pretty considerate of maintaining a tidy room, and tried to keep his dirty clothes in a pile. Quickly gathering a small pile of them however, Jane noticed a pair of Timmy’s boxers over by his dresser. When she picked them up, she casually glanced at the journal on his dresser. Normally, Timmy was always reading some horror or Sci Fi novel, and she expected to see such this time. However, just by only glancing at the cover after picking up Timmy’s boxers, Jane realized that this was different. For one, it wasn’t a book but a journal of some sort. Plus, the cover had the words My Fantasies written on it. Jane was perplexed as she pondered what this was. Finally, she decided that, while the title was a little off kilter, it must be Timmy’s private diary. “She had no right to snoop through her son’s private thoughts and so forth, did she?” But the prior night’s occurrences came back to her, and she decided that a quick peak here and there would be alright. After all, maybe Timmy discussed his foot fetish within, and by perusing the pages, perhaps she’d find a way to better understand it. But she promised her self that she’d only read only those potions that dealt with women’s feet and no more. She did respect her son enough to allow him his other private inklings.
Picking the journal up, Jane carried it down to the living room and put it underneath one of her Cosmo magazines. She then went to start up the load of laundry, hoping that reading a little of Timmy’s diary would help her help and understand him better. She did love him so, and would do anything to make his life’s hopes and dreams come true to the best extent as was possible for her to do so. Walking back into the living room, Jane steeled her self to intrude upon her son’s most private thoughts and musings. But before she could pick up the journal, the phone rang. Jane contemplated letting the answering machine go on, but she finally picked up the cordless phone, thinking that the call might be important. It was. Timmy was on the other end. “Hey mom, Matt and I are going to the arcade center for awhile, so I won’t be home until late tonight.” OK Timmy, that’s fine. How was the movie? I got off a little early today to see if you wanted to see it. Oh, well, I see that I didn’t miss an Oscar winning cinematic experience, then did I? OK, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, as I’ll probably be in bed when you get home.
Well, that was fine. It would giver her more time to read over Timmy’s journal without having to worry about him walking in unexpectedly. Finally, with no more distractions, Jane grabbed the diary and prostrated herself on the couch, placing her big bare feet on the coffee table. The first couple of pages contained a cryptic account of his foot fetish, but only hinted at something much darker than just that. Then, on the fifth page, Jane began reading Timmy’s twisted, sordidly disgusting fantasies. But these fantasies, perverted and sick in their own right, gained so exponentially in that they involved her! Jane was awestruck at what her eyes registered but her mind refused to accept. Timmy didn’t just have a foot fetish; that was a large part of it. But he was actually aroused by the prospect of women humiliating him with their feet. Oh God, Timmy, what is wrong with you”, Jane murmured aloud. He didn’t just posses a desire to be shrunk and tortured at a woman’s feet, but his fantasy was actually entirely devoted to her! His own mother, who had given birth to him and raised him as not only mother, but as a friend! Jane couldn’t contain the flood of tears streaming from her eyes as the infinite awfulness of the true scope of her son’s fantasies became blindingly apparent. Several times she threw the journal down, only to pick it back up and read it again in disbelief. While she’d intended to only read small portions of it, the content held her spellbound and seemingly forced her to read through to the end. All in all, it took Jane two full hours to finish what to her, could be aptly termed “Timmy’s Suffering at the Feet of his Mother.”
It took almost as long for Jane to get a hold of herself. “OK, so my son has severe emotional and psychological problems. We can get through this; after all, we’ve gotten through so much together already, with the accident and all.” But when she was able to grant her self even a small modicum of stability over the situation, her mind would then immediately recall the many deplorable scenarios Timmy had conjured up to satiate his sexual urges. The longest and most visceral one has already been recounted earlier, but others proved almost equally as damning. One involved letting her toenails grow a little longer than usual, and after deciding to squish Timmy beneath her bare feet, she’d taken his half-inch, naked body and rubbed it all over her feet. She then had pushed his head and most of his body up the nail of her big toe of her left foot. She had left him there in that demeaning, horribly smelly prison for an hour before releasing him. After much more verbal abuse of what she’d just done to him, she had snuffed his life out under her feminine soles. Another consisted of her coming home from work and placing him into her pump after having been trapped in a pair of her nylons all day. She had unceremoniously put her stockinged foot back into the shoe and quickly and efficiently grinded him to pulp between her toes.
The other fantasies involving him shrinking gradually and her dominating him along the way proved equally as disheartening. Finally, at 10:00 at night, Jane got up and washed her face and eyes of tears and makeup. She had conjured up a plan of sorts, although she truly didn’t know if it would work or was even appropriate considering the severity of Timmy’s fetish for her feet. But she remembered the first time her own mother had caught her smoking when she was 15. “If you want to smoke, then you can smoke all the cigarettes that you want, Jane,” her mother had stated. Jane was forced to smoke a whole pack of them, one after the other, until she got sick and puked. She was so sick, she never even so much as looked at another cigarette since then. “Could fetishes be rubbed out that way” she asked herself. Well, she had to do something. She couldn’t just pretend that nothing had changed in her relationship with her son. With great trepidation, Jane decided that one way of breaking Timmy of his perversions was to allow him to indulge in his urges with the real thing, until the fetish burned itself out. For starters, she planned to give Timmy a severe beating using only her bare hands, and looking down, her large bare feet as well. In fact, before tomorrow morning, Timmy would come to learn that her feet were not to be objectified and lusted over, particularly by her own son. Instead, he would cower in fear of them, and hopefully lose his fetish once he saw how destructive it could be for him in real life. With a new-found resolve, Jane sat back on the couch, her arms spread out over the edges and her feet propped up on the table, scrunching her toes ominously, in eager anticipation of her son’s suffering beneath them.
Matt dropped Timmy off at home at midnight. He walked up the stairs to his home, and was mildly surprised to see that the living room light was still on. Normally, his mother would have been in bed by 10:00, since she had to be at work by 6:30 every morning. When he opened the front door, Timmy immediately could tell something was amiss. The air literally cackled with wrongness. Taken aback by this feeling, Timmy looked up and saw his mother sitting regally on the couch like a throne, with her bare feet propped up on the table. She was staring a hole through him, sending chills down his spine. “What the hell could I have done now that would make her so mad”, Timmy pondered. He quickly shut the door. Hey mom, what are you still doing up? Jane didn’t answer him, but just continued to start at him, cracking her toes every few seconds. “Uh, well, the movie was pretty good, but you wouldn’t have liked it. It was too violent, plus there were a lot of sex scenes, and I know how you feel about that kind of stuff.” Timmy was dumbfounded. Normally when Jane was angry, she would at least speak to him. Now, she looked like she was going to kill him! Whatever her problem was, Timmy decided to try and walk swiftly past her upstairs to his room. Maybe they’d just both go to bed, and she’d be more forthcoming tomorrow when she got back from work. But as Timmy started to walk, Jane spoke. “Timmy, what I’m about to tell you and then do to you is for your own good. You may not think this now, but it’s out of love that I must do this. Apparently in your hurry to go to the movies, you left this out.” She reached over to her side and produced his journal. Timmy’s heart dropped to his ass. He immediately felt feverish and light headed. “Oh God, Oh God” he screamed to himself. “I had no intentions of reading this when I went into your room to get your clothes for laundry. I noticed it at a glance, and was intrigued by the title. I then thought back to last night and the effect my feet had on you. I thought that this notebook might shed a little light on your foot fetish, maybe learn more about it so that I could help you out. Timmy’s legs had gone slack, and he was in real danger of falling down. He couldn’t look at his mom’s face and instinctively looked to the ground. Big mistake. He saw her big feet there, her toes scrunching and flexing. He then allowed it to sink in. His mom knew all about his fetish, and most importantly, about his desires involving her!
“I read everything Timmy. I know all about what you, at least what you may think you want me to do to you. I figured that you had a thing for my feet, that’s fine. It was cute and innocent. But for you to actually posit me into scenarios where I torment you and crush you beneath them is so twisted that I can’t believe that my womb could actually bore someone so sick. Now, I’ve though long and hard about the appropriate course of action to take with you. I do feel that you need to talk to someone, get professional help. But I also think that I may be able to dispense a little therapy of my own as well.” Saying this, Jane stood up and slowly walked over to Timmy. Timmy was stuck, like a deer caught in the headlights. He stood transfixed by his mother making her away over to him. When she was within several feet of Timmy, she stopped. Jane’s distinctive height advantage became stunningly clear as Timmy looked up into those beautiful green eyes and Jane’s pretty face and long flowing brown mane. She easily dwarfed her son, and knew that she would have no problem physically dominating him, if it came down to it. In a lighting bolt of insanity, Jane actually hoped that she would have to hurt him a little. Stunned by this, Jane decided to break the ice again. “Now Timmy, you may think that smelling and serving at my feet is something that you’d actually like to do. But just like when I was little and caught smoking, my mother showed me that thinking you like something and then having to indulge in it over and over are two different realities. Now I’m only going to tell this to you once. I’m going to go sit back over to that chair over their, she pointed to the corner” with one of her feet, and you’re going to crawly on your hand and knees over to me and smell my feet until I tell you to stop.” Jane then did just that. When seated, she crossed her legs, leaving one of them slightly upright. She flexed them, awaiting Timmy’s little face to fit beneath their crevices. Timmy just stood their. “Timmy, come here and smell my feet. If you don’t’ I swear to you that I will make you regret the day you were born!”
Just then, Timmy started to cry. “Mom, I’m so sorry about his whole thing. I do have a problem, and never meant to hurt you. Please, this isn’t what I really want.” I’ll burn the stupid thing and will see a psychiatrist! Timmy, you may have not meant to hurt me, but if you don’t’ start sniffing these feet, I’m going to hurt you!” Still unwilling to move, Timmy thought of running out the front door. Jane noticed his hesitancy, and anticipating his flight, shot out of her chair after him. Even at forty years of age, she was in great shape, much better than Timmy. By the time Timmy’s fragile mind could register what was happening, Jane was upon him. “I gave you your chance Timmy, now I have to make you smell them! You probably wanted that though, didn’t you? I mean, your little journal is filled with just what I’m about to do to you.” Jane quickly picked Timmy up in a bear hug and squeezed his small frame in a hard embrace. Timmy gurgled and screamed as he felt his ribs bend and creak due to the awesome pressure being applied. Jane let up after a few minutes. She didn’t want to break anything, but his spirit. Timmy was crying and gasping for air when Jane suddenly dropped him to the floor. Not content with what she’s just done, Jane then go down on the floor with Timmy. She wrapped her long, muscular legs around his delicate body, and began to squeeze the life from him. Timmy eyes nearly popped out of his head as Jane’s legs punished him. “Mom, I’m sorry, don’t do this, you’re breaking my ribs and back!” “Here Timmy, feel mommy’s legs. Feel that strength.” Unable to move his arms, Jane took his little hand and placed it onto her quads. She flexed them, further engulfing Timmy into a sea of unending pain. He was astounded by how muscular his mom’s legs were. He was truly a weakling compared to everyone, even his own mom!” He continued to cry as Jane smushed him in her scissor lock. But she was merciful enough to not break any bones.
Finally, after a half hour of torturous verbal and physical abuse at her legs, Jane let up. She then stood up and towered over Timmy. “Now, are you going to be a good little pervert and sniff these?” She placed her foot on his chest and pushed down. Timmy coughed and groaned under her ped. Timmy and his mother had verbally fought in the past, but nothing remotely like this had ever taken place between them. Timmy’s mind was rollercoastering out of control, while his body screamed with pain. “Why did this have to happen? I never meant for my fantasies to actually take place” Timmy murmured to himself and partly aloud. “What was that? Did you say yes mommy, I’ll gladly smell your feet? Timmy remained silent. “OK, sicko, we’ll see how you like this.” She grabbed and pulled him up by his hair and crudely threw him up against the wall. A painting on the side of the opposite wall crashed to the floor from the impact. The impact again knocked the wind out of Timmy, and before he could fall to the floor, his mom did something to him that would finally break his will. Jane, lithe and flexible as a ballerina, thrust her left leg into the air, as if getting ready to side kick Timmy in the face. Instead, she placed her size twelve foot over his throat, pinning him to the wall. Timmy gasped and gurgled as Jane’s foot crushed to air from his windpipe. Tears flooded from Timmy’s eyes, but he was unable to make even a peep. Jane relentlessly kept her son propped against the wall, making sure that her foot cut off his air supply. Her leg muscles bulged madly, and as a demonstration of her strength, she pinned Timmy several feet off of the ground!
“You’re going to listen to me Timmy, or I just may have to permanently hurt you. And while I’m disgusted enough to at least think of doing it, I don’t want to.” After several more agonizing minutes of oxygen depredation, with a final thrust into his throat, Jane let Timmy flop to the ground. Her ears were greeted with her son’s labored breathing as he lay crumpled on the floor. Jane then walked over to the loveseat across the room, sat and down, and crossed her legs. “Timmy, now are you ready to do as I ask? Crawl over here and start smelling my feet. Isn’t this what you fantasized about, to be worked over by me and forced to worship my big stinky feet? Now get over here, or so help me, I’ll break you in half!” Timmy’s small body was wracked with severe pain, and his emotions overcharged. How could she have done this to me? She knows how much smaller I am compared to her. Finally though, knowing that further refusal was impossible, Timmy resolved to humiliate himself in front of his mom. After all, what could be worse than having had her find out about his journal and fantasies within it?
With his ribs and throat sore, Timmy began his journey on his hands and knees over to where his mother sat, regally as if an empress of some sort. He noticed that her face boar a slight smirk at the situation before here, and wondered if she had really developed into the character of his journal? Finally, he arrived over to within a foot of her large feet. Jane slowly placed them both flat on the ground before him. “Before you smell them, which I assure you will last now well into tomorrow since I’ve taken the day off, kiss these feet that have so consumed you.” Timmy stared at his mother’s feet and had to admit that they were truly beautiful. They were large and meaty, with deep red toenail polish. The tops were tanned, as Jane frequently made use of tanning salons around their home to keep a healthy color. He bent down and placed his lips to her feet. The humiliation sent a wave of bile surging up to his throat. Jane actually giggled as she felt her son’s little lips press down on her feet. “Good little boy, now sniff them.” With that she slowly raised her right foot off the ground and awaited Timmy’s little nose to fit under her toe crevices. Come on sweetie, put that little nose under my big stinky toes and smell.” When Timmy did so and breathed it, he gagged at the pungency of Jane’s unwashed feet. The smell seemed much worse than when she had playfully put her feet to his face, since this was completely against his well. “Oh God, Mom, please.” He tried to pull away but Jane craftily hooked her left foot behind his head to keep him from removing his face from her right foot. “Now how do my feet smell Timmy? Are they all you’d hoped they’d be? Timmy’s body twitched and convulsed as his nose and entire face were assaulted by the soul-penetrating stink of his mom’s foot. Jane marveled at the affect just smelling her feet were having on Timmy. She could feel his little body shudder as his nose breathed in her foot. She cooed down to him as he eventually submitted completely to her, going down to his belly, still with his nose clasped under her sweaty bare toes.
After a full hour of forcing Timmy to smell nothing and breathe nothing but maternal feet, Jane stood up and placed both of them on the outside of Timmy’s head. She looked down at the boy at her feet and felt a twinge of guilt for what she’s just done to him. But she then thought back to his journal, and knew she had to carry on. “Get on you back Timmy.” Timmy was dazed and out of it from the assault he’d undergone. But knowing the consequences of not doing as he was told, he pulled himself up and laved down on his back. When his eyes met his mother’s, he didn’t see any hint of mercy for him. Gone was the look of love and compassion so frequently handed out to him from her over the years. Instead, he saw an icily detached amazon who know she had won. Jane placed a big sol atop his chest, flexing her toes just under his chin. “Why don’t you tell me what my feet smell like Timmy? As she asked this, her foot crept up to his lips. Or maybe you’d like to taste them a little, take a break from smelling them? Would you like that? Sobbing, Timmy could only await his fate. Jane then placed her big toe on his lips, playfully rubbing them. Open up Timmy, you’re going to suck my toes clean of their sweat.” Disgusted, Timmy started to voice his displeasure, but Jane simply pushed her toe into his mouth. His eyes became bug-eyed as the salty, earthy taste of Jane’s dirty toe raped his taste buds. Jane smiled when she saw the effect it had on Timmy. “You’re doing great Timmy. Now you can taste and smell them at the same time. Saying that, she sat back down. Raising her lithe leg into the air for dramatic effect, Jane plopped her other foot back onto Timmy’s face. Struggling to escape such a cruel ordeal, Timmy was nonetheless forced to suffer under Jane’s vengeful feet for the next two hours. He was surprised that she hadn’t stopped his torture yet and gone to bed. “Oh no, she’s not working tomorrow,” he thought to himself. Jane had taken turns, alternating her various toes into his mouth while smearing her pungent soles over his face. Finally, at 3:00 A.M., Jane took her feet off him.
His face was red and literally covered in her foot sweat. His face reeked of her feet, and she actually laughed at the results. “I’m going to bed Timmy, and you’re going with me. But lest you think my feet are done with you, you’ll be sleeping with them.” “No, Mom, I’m sorry. Can’t you be done and forgive me!” Jane ignored him and instead yanked him by his shirt. “Get up stairs and get undressed and crawl under the covers at the foot of the bed. Timmy literally ran from her upstairs. He knew that escape at this point was hopeless. But seeing Timmy do as he was told posed a curious sight for Jane. Perhaps she was just tired from the night’s ordeals, but she would swear that Timmy seemed a little shorter than he had been. Nothing too drastic, just smaller. Perhaps he just appeared that way due to what she’d just done to him. It must be her eyes playing tricks on her. Confused but determined to finish up Timmy’s lesson, Jane turned out the lights and went upstairs. She had no intentions of taking a shower until tomorrow.
When she got to her room, she was amused at how docile Timmy had become. He was obviously scared of her, and she hoped that when this was all over she could win his trust back someday. But not today. She turned off the light and crawled into bed. Her big feet quickly assaulted Timmy under the covers. She heard him whimper slightly as her feet maneuvered him into a comfortable place. Finally, she contented herself with one foot over his nose and the other on his chest. “Sweet dreams, Pumpkin” she spoke to him.
Jane smiled as she drifted off to sleep with her pungent size twelves encompassing Timmy’s little face. For Timmy, the night’s events, ending with him having to endure his mom’s feet until the morning, had upset his fragile mind. He couldn’t stop condemning himself for being so careless with his journal. Furthermore, his mom had been right. When he merely fantasized about his mom’s feet, everything seemed just fine. However, the reality of what have in fact befallen him proved too horrific. From the physical abuse earlier to the humiliation of being subjected at her feet, Timmy felt that he had in fact learned his lesson. His mom’s feet were not to be trivially fantasized about, and deserved a reverent, cautious respect. He also felt slightly off. And not due to having his face raped by Jane’s feet, but beyond the particulars of his predicament. Somehow, with each breath he took of Jane’s stinky feet, they appeared to grow bigger. Nothing major, but definitely a discernable difference. Maybe it was his imagination and the fact that he did feel very small and weak due to what his mom had done to him. Finally, sleep came to the poor, troubled boy.
Jane awoke around 10:00 in the morning. Momentarily forgetting that her son was at the bottom of her bed, nestled under her feet, she stretched and flexed her legs and arms. Feeling a small form at the foot of the bed under the covers, she instantly remembered the events just seven hours ago. But she should have felt Timmy’s body before this. It was as if something was down there, but too small to be her boy. Perplexed, Jane threw back the covers. What she saw astounded her. The small body at her feet did in fact resemble Timmy, but something had happened to him during the night. He had seemingly shrunk, at least by several feet. Timmy was still asleep as she prodded him with her toes, turning him over onto his back to get a better look at him. “My goodness, Jane thought, “he’s probably only a foot tall now!” Jane marveled at how this could have happened. She had thought Timmy appeared littler as he ran upstairs last night, and seeing him now, knew that it was true. But what could have caused such a thing to happen? As far as she knew Timmy hadn’t been around any strange chemicals or anything. Had he ingested or drunk anything before he’d come home last night? Worried and wanting answers, and momentarily forgetting Timmy’s punishment, she reached down and picked him up. “Wake up Timmy, it’s me, Mom.” It had taken Timmy awhile to fall asleep last night, but when he had, it had been a deep sleep that claimed him. Finally, he opened his eyes. It took him a minute to recollect what had happened to him, both last night, and now with his diminished stature.
“Mmmm mom, um, what’s going on?” Their was a sob at the back of the boy’s throat as he stared once again into the eyes of his mother. Only this time, he was rewarded with a look of mercy and concern in those green eyes. “I don’t know Timmy, I just noticed you this way a few minutes ago. “Did you drink or eat anything while at the movies that could have caused this?” No, uh, I just got a Dr. Pepper and some whoppers and that’s it. I swear Mike and I didn’t do anything stupid!” Jane believed him but was still confused. “You know Timmy, I have feeling that if you hadn’t forced my hand last night, that you’d still be the same size as you were! Why did you have to be such a pervert, and why couldn’t you have just done what I told you, instead of making me physically hurt you? Now look at you, you’re barely a foot tall.” Mom, I’m sorry and feel sick about my journal, and what happened between us last night. I swear that I’ll never do anything like that again. Please, can we go to the hospital to see what’s wrong with me?” Jane was caught in her thoughts, and ignored Timmy. “Mom, please, can we?” “Oh, yes, of course Timmy, let’s get up and get ready. I’m going to take a shower. In the meantime, just stay on the bed and I’ll help you get ready when I’m done.” Everything would have been fine between mother and son at this juncture, if not for Timmy’s inability to control his hormones. Jane placed Timmy back at the foot of the bed above the covers and started to get up out the bed. But as she did so, one of her large bare feet brushed against Timmy. “Sorry sweetie,” she stopped abruptly though as she noticed her son’s member protruding out like a miniature flagpole. Even with everything that had taken place, just being near her feet had reactivated Timmy’s sick libido. Unfortunately for him, it also reinvigorated his mother’s disgust and wrath as well.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” This stunned Timmy almost as much as being a prisoner to her feet the whole night. She never swore or used such vulgar language towards him or anyone for that matter. She must be very pissed! “Are you that twisted, that you can’t even stop fantasizing about my feet even when something is so medically wrong with you? Honestly Timmy, I truly believed that you had learned your lesson, and that we could put this all behind us after a doctor examined you. I see now that’s not the case. In fact, maybe I have been too lenient on you. Maybe I need to give you another go-round with these,” she swung her feet back onto the bed, placing them above Timmy. “I think the good doctor can wait until I’m content that you’re fetish is cured.” With that Jane lowered her big feet onto Timmy’s body, covering almost his entire body beneath them. “Mom, please do,” but he was cut off as his mom’s bulbous feet muffled his mouth. “Get a good sniff of these Timmy, and try and get used to being at them for the foreseeable future, because that’s what your new role is going to be, at least until I decide to stop. She scrunched her toes, forcing their stink into Timmy’s nose. He could only moan and cry as he again was greeted with a familiar stench. But it was much more poignant and stronger than before due to his diminished size. Jane just sat there, punishingly torturing the young boy under her feet. While they were no longer sweaty, they still packed quite a wallop, especially for such a small body! For the next hour, Jane contented herself with subjugating and teaching her son, using only her feminine but powerful feet for instruction. Finally, she let up and peered under her feet to see how he was doing. Jane was so shocked now by Timmy’s appearance that she covered her mouth to suppress a scream. He had somehow shrunk down another two or three inches just in the time spent under her feet!
Timmy was panting and crying as Jane lifted her feet from him. When he looked up, he was greeted with a larger view of his mother than from an hour before. “Timmy, I don’t know why or how, but it seems as if the smell of my feet is causing you to shrink. It’s a scientific impossibility, but nonetheless, here you are, under a foot tall just from being under my foot!” Timmy was scared at this possibility as well, but he was more concerned with the air of nonchalantness with which his mom now spoke. Before, she had seemed worried about his condition, but now she was almost happy that he was smaller! “I wonder if this is some sort of divine retribution for being such a sicko son, Timmy? Maybe you’re fantasies of being shrunk and forced to live under my stinky feet are being allowed to happen so that you can learn a lesson.” Timmy was horrified now. Neither he nor his mother were particularly religious people, so he knew that God had nothing to do with what was happening. And what was happening was too awful to accept. “Well, I tell you what little boy. I’m going to get used to having a son whose whole life and existence will be relegated to my feet. You’re going to smell them and whatever else I tell you to do. And when the inevitable happens, and you get down to only an inch or so, you can finally experience the honor of being my little toe toy in my nylons. Isn’t that going to be fun, getting to live out your fetish for mommy’s big feet? Don’t worry though, because I promise you that I will stop torturing you at some point and let you out of your life of servitude. But until then, you are going to get more foot than you ever thought possible, even more so than what’s detailed in your journal.” Jane then placed her feet back down onto her son, easily covering his whole body this time. She giggled and marveled at how funny it felt to have someone under her feet. Timmy’s nose again became lodged into her toe crevices, and the stench again penetrated his senses with a vengeance. Jane sighed and sat back onto her bed. It was going to be a good day to relax for her, and a long day for Timmy to smell her unwashed feet!
While she had planned to spend the entire day forcing her feet upon her son, Jane decided to only “play” with him for another half hour or so. She wanted to shower and do something else that didn’t involve her son. She was sick of him and, quite frankly, pretty angry and disgusted with him. But Jane surprised herself with an idea that just occurred to her. Now that Timmy was so small and weak, she could still enjoy her day and freshen up while continuing Timmy’s “lesson.” She smiled as she developed her diabolical plan further. Taking her feet off Timmy, she spoke down to the small, vulnerable boy nestled at her stinky feet, “I have a good idea Timmy, one that will surely please you!” Jane then reached down and picked him up and carried him downstairs. Despite Timmy’s attempt to wriggle free of his mom, Jane was too strong for him to gain any leverage whatsoever. Along the way, Jane hummed, happy to have determined her son’s course of punishment. In the kitchen, she opened a drawer and retrieved some strong, white tape, the kind that a person wears to stabilize a joint or cut. Without so much as a hesitation, Jane cut a piece off and taped Timmy’s little mouth shut with it. He started to desperately struggle and to try and speak, but was again helpless, leaving Jane to only snicker and giggle at his plight. “Don’t worry little boy, you’re going to love what mommy has planned for her little foot lover!” Next, Jane took out some duct tape and wound Timmy’s hands behind his back. After that, she did the same with his ankles, rendering mobility an impossibility. Realizing what his mom may have had in mind for him, Timmy started to cry and plead with his eyes to Jane.
“Oh, you’re not going to sniff my feet for a little while sweetie. But don’t despair too much, because you are going to get the next best thing, one I’m sure you’ve helped yourself to many a time before in my absence. The only difference is that now, I’ll get to watch you do it!” Mphhhhh!” Timmy’s pleas were like sweet symphony music to Jane’s ears. She carried the small boy up to her bedroom again, and retrieved her pair of red pumps, the ones she wore every other day to work. “Ready to smell mommy’s shoes in a whole new way” Jane asked. “I’m going to place that little face and head of yours right into that big old shoe of mine, and leave you there until you shrink enough to again experience such bliss at my smelly feet.” She then carefully placed Timmy face down into her shoe, making sure his head fit directly into the toe section, where the majority of her foot sweat resided. It didn’t matter if it was dry or not; her feet had left a horrendously odorous stain, particularly when she had worn them with nylons in the summer. Content that Timmy wouldn’t be able to escape, Jane playfully but carefully pressed his face down further into the toe section of the pump with her big toe. She smiled as she witnessed the desperation with which her son strove to not smell her stench, but it was hopeless. Even now, Timmy had grown a little bit smaller, and was down to six inches in height. No, it wouldn’t be long now before the clock would begin to tick, signaling perhaps the final consummation between a mother’s enormously smelly feet and a tiny son would play itself out.
For Timmy, his psyche was further unraveling with each breath he took of his mom’s shoe. His life had changed so drastically and rapidly just in one night that he couldn’t fully comprehend what was happening to him. He’d always thought that being able to live out his fantasies about his mom would be the ultimate rush, just what he’d always wanted. However, the real deal certainly felt different. He wasn’t consciously aroused by his mom’s sudden transformation, and was truly scared at his diminished size. He was continuing to grow smaller, and it did seem to be due to the actual smell of his mother’s feet. It was truly bizarre, but Timmy was so assaulted and disoriented by the ungodly pungentness of Jane’s shoe that he couldn’t ponder it all that much. “Oh please God, help me, her shoe’s getting even bigger,” Timmy screamed to himself. Thoughts of better times with his mom flashed through his head, only to be instantaneously replaced with images of her cruelly suffocating him beneath those awesome feet of hers.
Jane had left her son to stew in her footwear, and had started the water, prepping for a nice, relaxing bath. When it was ready, she entered the tub and let out a contented sigh. She was tired and deserved to relax for awhile. She rested her head on the back of the tub and closed her eyes, with images of Timmy flopping like a fish out of water under her nyloned foot, crazily trying to escape its evil stench. And for the first time since this whole fiasco started, Jane allowed herself to admit that a part of her was enjoying this, and that part was growing in intensity with each encounter she had with Timmy. To her consternation, Timmy being so helpless at her feet aroused her slightly. Not because it was her son per se, but the fact of just controlling another human being so definitely and absolutely with a part of the human anatomy most people were embarrassed about struck a chord for Jane. She decided that she would have to watch herself and make sure she didn’t lose control with Timmy. After all, she didn’t want to fully become the vengefully cruel giantess depicted in his journal, did she?
Jane relaxed and daydreamed almost the entire afternoon away. She’d had to employ an almost superhuman willpower not to check on Timmy’s condition after finishing her bath. Instead, she’d walked casually into her room, gotten dressed in a pair of jean shorts, t-shirt, and black open toed sandals, all so much without even glancing into the corner where her son lay. She simply wanted to be surprised the next morning, to see if he had in fact shrunk to an inch or so in height. Plus, with her feet freshly cleaned, there was really no point in taking him out of her smelly pump and playing with him with her unsweaty feet.
For Timmy however, his afternoon had dragged on and on, as if he were in hell itself. It was hot enough to be, that’s for sure. Each breath he took, forced through his nostrils as it were, made him shake, as if with a high fever. He never would have imagined a woman’s shoe could reek like his mother’s did. Again, he was reminded of fantasy not being nearly as enjoyable in real life. Furthermore, he was completely immobile, and had even blacked out several times. When he did open his eyes, all he saw was the impenetrable blackness of his mother’s toe section of her pump. He knew that he had shrunk; the question was how much and if he was done decreasing in size. He certainly hoped so. If not, would his own mom leave him in her shoe until he shrunk down to nothing, or a microscopic particle to be absorbed by her foot? The uncertainty of his predicament made him cry, and he had cried until he thought his tear ducts had run dry. But still they came, especially when he thought of himself at his size completely and utterly at the mercy of Jane’s feet. It was one thing for her to force him to smell her feet when he was his regular size, or even when he was several feet tall. But to subject him to her feet at only an inch tall or so would be catastrophic. How could such a small boy survive such an unforgiving onslaught?
Finally, around dinner time, Jane decided to see how Timmy was faring in her pump. She decided that if he was down to an inch that she’d let him rot until the morning. Even then, she might leave him for later until she arrived back home. After all, better he experience her feet after a full day’s work than the morning before the day had worn on. Also, she was frightened of what might ultimately happen to him if she wore him in her shoe all day. At his size, he was likely to drown or suffocate in her pump! With eager anticipation, Jane approached the shoe in her bedroom. When she looked down, even though she was expecting it, she still was jolted by the sight before her. Timmy was now fully in her shoe; in fact, she could just make out his tiny form in the toe section of her shoe!
She bent down, picked the shoe up and carefully dumped its contents (Timmy) into her giant hand. Timmy was almost immobile, and smelled of her foot sweat. “Timmy, it’s me. So, I see that smelling my feet or items that have come into contact with them has somehow continued to make you shrink. Now, while I’m mad at you, I’m not going to keep you all tied up and trapped in my stinky old shoe. I’m not entirely sure if you would continue to shrink away into nothing if I did that. Sooo, little one, I tell you what I’m going to do. You be a good boy and stay out my way until tomorrow morning, and I’ll let you sleep in my dresser drawer. At your size you won’t be able to get out, and you’ll be away from any of mommy’s bad smelling stuff! What do you think of that, Timmy?”
Timmy could hear his mother speaking to him, but everything seemed to move in slow motion. He knew he’d shrunk to a dangerously small height, and would have been terrified if he didn’t already feel so dull. This all seemed like a bad dream to him, one that had cruelly penetrated the breaches of nighttime slumber into real life. “Are you able to even answer me or what, Timmy?” The boy this time mustered a tiny squeak in response. Jane brought him closer to her ear. “Please get me help mom, we don’t know if I’ll ever get back to normal, or how this has even happened. I’ve learned my lesson, I just want things to go back to the way they were.” Jane heard and understood him. “Oh, go back to where I remain oblivious to how you view me? Where I’m just some fantasy woman for your sick indulgences? I don’t’ think so Timmy. I don’t know how this happened either, and I do plan to get you help eventually. But I want you to actually have to live out your fantasies to their fullest extent possible with you not being permanently disabled. That’s means teaching you to respect my feet in a controlled manner. I don’t want to stay up all night to check to see if you’ve shrunk down to nothing in my shoe, so I’m giving you until tomorrow evening off. Then, when I get home after a long day at the office, after my feet have sweated in nylons all day, you’re going to be under them in all their smelly glory. Don’t worry though, I’ll make sure you don’t disappear; at the first sign that you’ve started to shrink again, I’ll take you to the hospital. Now say good night, and enjoy yourself amongst my fresh and clean clothes in here,” she opened her drawer that contained her socks, nylons, and underwear, “and rest up for tomorrow. You’re going to need it.”
The next morning Jane arose, showered, and opened the dresser all the way that contained Timmy. He had curled up and slept on, ironically, the pair of black nylons she intended to wear that day. She gently picked the lad up and placed him on another pair. He awoke to the sight of his mom’s giant face peering down at him. “Hello Timmy, sorry to wake you, but I’m getting ready for work. I hope you’ve slept well and will be ready for these,” she said as she lifted one of her legs up to show him one of her large feet. “Until then, I want you to have a way to mark the passage of time before I get home.” She placed one of her small (gigantic to him) timers she used for jogging down next to him. With that she closed the door part way, and finished dressing for work. When she finished, she allowed her self to look in full length mirror. She had to admit it, she was quite striking for a forty year old, widowed woman. Her figure was trim but not too thin. She was tall and had pretty legs. She looked down at her pump-encased feet. She shook her head thinking that in just a short while, her pervert, 1 inch tale son was going to be at their unmerciful mercy!
Throughout the day, Timmy frantically anticipated what was to happen to him in, he looked at the watch by him, two more hours! He had already cried several times and tried desperately to stake enough of his mom’s nylons together to be able to escape his prison. He’d failed every time. Even if he did manage to get out, the plunge to the carpet would probably kill him. Scared of the seeming inevitable, Timmy also found himself surprisingly aroused a little by his predicament. It surprised him because he in no way shape or form enjoyed the smell of his mom’s feet, or shoes for that matter. Perhaps it was just the fact that SHE, the woman of his fantasies was really in charge of him, and about to exercise the ultimate demonstration of that power on him. Yep, Timmy could finally admit it. It wasn’t so much Jane’s or women’s feet in general that aroused him. Rather, it was being submissive and at the mercy of a female persona. Also, in his case, he now saw that his unhealthy attraction to his mom’s feet was simply an attempt, albeit a bizarre one, of trying to be close to her. Now, too late to do anything about it, Timmy could only await his trial and cry.
That day at work, Jane struggled to keep her mind on even the most basic of things. Her mind kept drifting to what she was going to do to her own son with her feet. She walked a tightrope in her mind between actually looking forward to the experience and cautioning herself against being too enthusiastic. Even so, she couldn’t resist breaking out a pair of her old sneakers over lunch and taking a half hour walk. If Timmy used to complain about her feet before, wait until he experienced them today, and at his new size! Finally, 5:00 rolled around and Jane’s boss told her she could leave then rather than stick around. Telling the few stragglers left behind goodbye, Jane walked with a concerted determination to her car. On the way home, she thought of some of the scenarios she’d read in Timmy’s journal, detailing eerily similar developments like this. She smiled, both in anticipation and disbelief that this was all happening.
Finally, Jane pulled into her driveway at 5:30. She didn’t pull into the garage; if Timmy did suffer drastic changes she wanted to be able to leave as quickly as possible. With a deep breath to steady her self for what needed to be done, for both Timmy’s and her sakes, She walked up to her front door, her heels making a click click click sound all the way until she opened the door. Timmy was awoken from a despair induced sleep suddenly by the front door opening and closing. His heart began racing as he knew it could be only one person—his Mother! He heard her put down her purse on the kitchen table. That was her routine, along with going through the mail. Jane knew that Timmy had probably heard her arrive, and wanted to take her time and do the things she normally did upon arriving home from work; well, expect change her clothes!
Finally, she sauntered into her bedroom and opened the door. The sudden intrusion of light momentarily blinded Timmy before he looked up and saw his mom’s smiling face. “Well son, I see that everything has fallen into place and gone according to plan. I’m glad that you didn’t try and do anything stupid, like climb out and hurt yourself. Now, I want you to know and realize that my feet are very sweaty today. Please realize that what I’m about to put you through is going to be the most unpleasant, horrific thing you’ll ever experience. And know that you brought it all on yourself.” Jane reached down to retrieve Timmy, but he tired to avoid her by running away. If it wasn’t so comical it would be pathetic. Jane simply snickered and easily grasped him in her hand. Closing the drawer, she brought him up to her face and spoke to him. Beyond all of her wildest expectations, Jane noticed that Timmy had an erection! After all of this, this boy still couldn’t control himself! Granted, it was almost impossible to see, but see it she did. One of the consequences of his rapid shrinkage was the loss of his clothes. Lying in her warm, well-manicured hand, Timmy lay completely naked. “I can’t believe you, even now you’re excited about this. We’ll just see how fun this is for you though, you sick little creep.” A tiny yelp emanated from Timmy “NOOOO!”
Then, the moment of truth arrived for both mother and son. Jane carried Timmy into the living room, shut the blinds, and gently placed him on the ground. Timmy thought of running but could barely move due to the carpet’s thickness. In fact, he couldn’t even get off his back! Jane placed both of her monstrously large pump and nyloned-clad feet on either side of him. She simply stood there for almost five minutes, letting the situation sink in for her son. Then, with a casualness she’d done countless times before, Jane kicked one of her shoes off followed by the other into the corner by the stereo. Immediately Timmy was hit by a strong smell from Jane’s feet. She’d kept one foot next to him while placing the other in front of him. Jane reached down and placed him on his belly. She wanted him to get a good look at her feet before his whole world became them. Still, she remained silent. She simply stood in front of the naked little boy, occasionally flexing her deadly toes. The smell already burned Timmy’s nose and eyes. He was deathly afraid of what he was before him. He could clearly see the deep red of her toenails, the beads of sweat on top of them, and the almost supernatural size of them. Each toe dwarfed him!
This seeming stalemate lasted, again for about five minutes before Jane bent over and flipped Timmy back onto his back. Now Jane was ready to show him the bottom of her toes and rest of her foot. After all, this was where he would be spending the most time. Looking up, Timmy’s vision of his mother’s face, with its emotionless expression looming over her well-endowed chest, was now obstructed by her giant foot raised only several inches from his prostrate form. The smell increased again as Timmy looked into what might as well have been both heaven and hell themselves conjoined. He was awestruck at not only the sheer size of her foot, but how pretty they were. Jane had taken care of her feet, that was for sure. They were wrinkly and she wiggled her toes playfully above him. She made sure he saw her toe crevices and heel before finally speaking. “Well Timmy, you’re finally where you always wanted to be. Under a woman’s foot. Under my feet. Under Mommy’s feet.”
Before Timmy even realized what was happening, he felt a damp, heavy sensation upon him. Jane slowly started to drag the big toe of her left foot across Timmy’s body. To Jane, he felt like a small pebble under her. Timmy was overwhelmed by the pungency of his mom’s toe as it forced itself on every inch of his 1 inch body. He shivered and shook as Jane casually rubbed and fondled him. After only around 20 seconds of this abuse, Timmy puked from awful stench. Jane actually felt the boy’s purge, but continued as if what she were doing were the most natural thing in the world. “I can’t hear you Timmy, but I hope you’re enjoying my feet so far. Just think, you’re just getting my stinky toe right now.” She cooed softly to him as she felt him vomit again beneath the bulbous flesh of her toe. Raising it off him slightly, she saw Timmy crying and shaking uncontrollably before her. No mercy. She then began dragging her toe from his little head down his tiny torso and legs. Timmy’s entire world was his mom’s toe as it literally forced him to hurl from it’s evil stench. He felt so violated, especially as her toe rubbed his pee pee. Despite his protests, her consistent rubbing brought him to the brink of climax. Jane felt his hardon and grew disgusted. She decided to take care of it for him; she didn’t want him to in anyway derive a modicum of enjoyment from this. She’d simply rub all of the juice out of him, leaving him countless hours to suffer without the joy of an erection to lesson the ordeal.
It didn’t take her long to make the poor boy cum. Timmy actually grabbed onto her toe as he purged himself into her sweaty toe bottom. Timmy was sick and was close to passing out. But Jane wanted to make sure Timmy was as dry as a desert and again started to assault his groin area. She felt him try and cover himself with his hands and arms but simply plopped them back and resumed the raping. Again Timmy came, but with a lesser intensity than before. Satisfied, Jane then spoke. “Don’t think I enjoyed that as much as you, but I can’t have you enjoying yourself, can I? Now, it’s almost time for the grand finale Timmy, but I think some more foreplay is in order!”
With a dexterity that surprised him, she quickly and gently picked him up with the toes of her right foot and deposited his limp, drenched body onto the same toe that had just robbed him of his dignity. He lay there on his stomach, with his face on top her toe and breathed the stench in. He began crying (had he ever stopped!?) as his mother slowly moved her toe up and down. “Poor little Timmy, is mommy’s stinky toe just a little too much for him to handle, hmmm? That’s Ok, why don’t you kiss that smelly toe and show me how much you appreciate me? “well you do that for me, hmmm? Show mommy what a good little toe boy you are? She said this as she had sat down and started to rub his body with her other foot, pushing his face into her toe. Timmy, not knowing how to stop the assault but desperate to do so, kissed Jane’s sweaty toe. Jane giggled as she felt the boy’s lips press against her nail. With further encouragement wrought by more verbal humiliation and petting, Timmy also started licking her toe. Amused at such an awesome display of power over another human being, Jane kept at this for almost four hours before deciding to give Timmy her whole foot. Play time was over!
Jan had encouraged Timmy to lick the top and bottom of her big toe, laughing at his helplessness and her complete dominance over him. The power trip made her dizzy, and she marveled at the scenario before her: her own tiny son smelling and licking her toe in a desperate attempt to receive her mercy. But she had not intention of letting him off with just a little toe torture. He hadn’t shrunk anymore, so apparently he’d reached the limit of his size decrease. Still, she planned to keep a close eye on him to make sure. “Now Timmy, are you ready for you mother’s whole foot? Trust me, if you thought my stinky toe was bad, you’re going to experience a whole other concept of despair and torture!” And then she did it. Jane placed Timmy back onto the carpet. She had sat down in her chair and propped her right foot directly above the tiny screaming boy. Then with a quick scrunch of her toes, she brought it down onto Timmy. She picked him up with her toes and very gently squeezed him. She smiled as she could feel her sweat drench over his form, and felt his feeble attempts to escape her awesome foot. Timmy had seemingly gone into shock. The smell that now assaulted him was like death itself. Never would he have imagined a woman’s foot could smell this deadly. He started to hyperventilate as his mother’s powerful, giant toes compressed his body, forcing air from his lungs. Sweat stung his eyes and forced its way into his mouth. He had no choice but to suffer what to him appeared to be a very uncertain fate at the feet of his mother.
Jane took her time playing with Timmy. She could feel his body convulse as she squeezed him under her toes. She had crossed her legs and propped her feet up on the table in front of the TV set. “I hope you’re finally understanding why fantasizing about your mother’s feet is so dangerous and bad for your health Timmy. I’m tempted to let you rot and let my feet just waste you away. I bet I could do it if I kept at it long enough. My little boy would be all used up my smelly feet. Would like me to let that happen? For me to just sweat you away into nothing? Even amidst his suffering, Timmy made out his mom’s words. They scared the hell out of him. How could she even talk like that? Was she serious, would she let him die at her feet like in his journal? Jane plucked him from under her steamy toes and brought him up to her face. “Would you like that Timmy? Would that satisfy your desires? “Oh God, please mommy, I can’t take it anymore. You’re feet are too much and are killing me. Please please stop; I’ll be good and won’t do this anymore!” Shush Timmy, I’m not going to kill you. I’m disgusted enough to at least think of it though, and that alone should worry you. You’re very life is in my hands, or more appropriately, at my feet. Remember that Timmy.”
I’m tempted to let this be it for you. I feel that you have learned your lesson. But, since it’s actually relaxing having you between my toes, I think I’ll make you smell them during my show at 10:00. Then I’ll stop and take you into the doctor tomorrow.” Noooo! Mom, don’t do it. I’m not kidding about your feet. I can’t take much more of them. Don’t punish me anymore!” “Shut up and stop being such a wimp. Think about what you’re crying about—being forced to smell a woman’s feet. I could think of worse things to do, you know!” She then carried Timmy upstairs to her bedroom. She was tired and wanted to lay down on her bed to watch her show. She placed Timmy back under toes and layed down on her stomach with her feet up in the air. After a few minutes, she almost forgot that Timmy was immersed within her toe crevices. His crying and shaking reminded her though. She actually felt him smelling in her foot stink through her nylons. She playfully scrunched her toes over him, delighting in his suffering. Timmy had almost given up on living. His body was helplessly trapped on top of his mom’s propped feet. They provided an unbearable surface. He was forced into the sweaty wrinkles and cracks of her feet. “Good boy Timmy, you just keep sniffing my feet for another ten minutes, and then Mommy will let you sleep. In a fit of rage and utter despair, Timmy started pounding and kicking the undersides of his mother’s feet. Jane, amused by this, responded by further squeezing him into the pungent crevices of her toes.
True to her word though, after ten minutes had passed, Jane gave her son a reprieve from her cruel feet. Still positioned on her stomach, she reached back and carefully plucked him off of her foot, but not before pushing his face down into her toe crevices for several more minutes of foot sniffing, during which time Timmy could only squeal. “There, there little son of mine” Jane cooed, “that’s the smell of a woman that works hard for a living.” Afterwards, Jane brought Timmy up to her face, giving him a predatory smile that indicated how dire and hopeless his predicament was. “Timmy, Timmy, what am I to do with you, hmm? The past several days have certainly been revealing, for both of us. I mean, I’ve gone from being sickened by your fetish for my feet to accepting it for what it is: a tiny boy’s acknowledgement of his mother’s superiority and showing that by worshiping her tired and smelly feet. You on the other hand, have gone from feverishly fantasizing about this, only to wish it all away once it became a living, breathing, reality.” Timmy now knew the awful truth: being at the mercy of his mom’s feet, particularly at his current size, had diminished his significance in her eyes. In fact, judging by her recent actions and demeanor, Timmy knew in his heart that Jane no longer viewed him as the son of yesteryear. “Before I put you in one of my pumps for the night, I need to you to experience something else.” Jane promptly carried the boy into the living room and placed him on the cushy carpet. Timmy looked up at the giant queen standing with both of her dark hosed feet on either side of him. Jane smiled down at him and spoke: “Don’t worry Sweetie, I’m not going to smush you..yet!!” With that, she placed her right foot completely on top of her son, slowly but surely putting all of her weight down. The poor little worm son was pushed deep into the carpet, protected from becoming a stain only due to its thickness. Still, completely beneath his mom’s pungent foot caused him to panic and cry for mercy. The sick, warm flesh was drowning him, his penis firmly meshed in the bulbous, meaty underside of her foot. Again, he breathed in the stink of Jane’s sweaty, unwashed foot for what seemed to be the thousandth time since his punishment began.
Jane stood transfixed by what she had just done to her son. Sure, she had showed Timmy how weak he was compared to her feet. She’d certainly demoralized him enough. But now, with him absolutely beneath her foot, with all of her weight on him, she knew that whatever resolve he may have had was now extinguished under the absolute authority of his mommy’s smelly foot. She looked at the scene in the full-length mirror, taking it all in. She could just feel a slight tickle under her foot and smiled approvingly. Finally, after ten minutes of stepping on Timmy, Jane picked her foot up off of him. Timmy was mess. She bent down to pick him up and could she that he’d puked at least several times and had been crying nonstop. “Poor little baby, did mommy’s stinky foot scare you? Did you think that I was going to crush you like a little bug under there?” Timmy, weak and scared for his life and of this woman who’d become a stranger to him, could only cry. Not without some compassion remaining for her son, Jane started the sink in the kitchen and bathed him before putting him to bed in her sweaty pump. He immediately fell into a deep sleep. Staring down at her son, Jane’s inhibitions relented enough for her to finally admit to herself how things had changed forever between her and Timmy. She had humiliated him beyond a point he could ever come back from. How could they ever, in a million years, resume a mother/son relationship after all of this? Could he ever look her in the eye again after having been so demoralized at her feet? Furthermore, how could she ever relate to him on even a pretense of equality when she unequivocally knew he wasn’t? In fact, she knew that Timmy was completely dependent on her now. His continued existence was truly at the whim of her feet. Most importantly, she could finally give up the pretense that she was going to let Timmy grow again. Call it bitter irony, call it a just fate, call it what you well, she thought. However it should be described, Jane now embraced the reality that her son would forever more be at his current size, and that his life would be lived at or in the immediate vicinity of her feet. Now that she had adequately dehumanized her troubled son, Jane smiled in anticipation of the truly taboo things should could and would end up inflicting on her newly christened-foot-pet-of-a-son. She only hoped that he wouldn’t expire too soon. To prevent that, she decided to not wear him to work. She also determined to only wear him inside her socks or nylons for up to several hours. These precautions should keep her son in good foot-sniffing condition for years to come! Instead, she’d use him as a kind of treat for when she got home and on the weekends. Oh, the things she could do now that she had finally accepted her son’s new life!
That night as she lay in bed, Jane developed a plausible story to account for Timmy’s disappearance. It had to be believable, and it had to appear that he would most likely never be found. Deciding on an explanation and resolving to actually go through with it, Jane felt a warm glow between her legs. She thought about some of the scenarios in Timmy’s journal, how they’d disgusted her on a couple of days ago. Now, having tortured her son with her own feet, she knew in her heart that she was capable of devising even more demoralizing acts to enact on him with her feet. Yes, Timmy’s life was ending, only to begin again as his mother’s absolute foot slave.
Jane arose at 6:30 to get ready for work. When she was ready, she went to put on her pumps. Removing Timmy from them, she brought the naked boy up to her face and smiled. “Good morning Timmy, sleep well? I bet my pump was a nice break from my feet, huh? Well little one, Mommy has some really important news to share with you. Now, I realize that you fantasized about all of this. However, as much as you don’t want to endure more servitude at my feet, I’m afraid that after much introspection and thought into your predicament, I’ve decided that you are going to live out the rest of your life at them!” Awestruck by Jane’s words, Timmy could only gasp as he felt his stomach turned upside down. How could she really, truly believe this was the right thing to do? “Mom, please listen to reason. I’m sorry about all of this, believe me. But I’m your son, and you’re my,” he paused, struggling to speak, “my mom.” That’s just it Timmy, after what’s happened, and what I’ve already put you through, how could ever relate to me as a son ever again? I mean, come on honey, I’ve had your one inch naked body at my feet, humiliating you to the point of tears. You, an eighteen-year-old boy, smelled your mother’s big feet for hours. You’ve cried to me like you used to as a baby, begging for my mercy. Face it Timmy, this is your just desserts. Let me be frank about this. Your entire life and existence now revolves around your own mother’s feet. They own you. Every breath you take, every meal you take, involves them directly now. I don’t expect you to ever come to enjoy it or to even get used to it. I do expect you to accept it though, because if you don’t, I swear to all of creation that I will slowly grind you like a bug between my toes. I’ll make sure that your last minutes are filled with such mind-numbing pain that you’ll wish you would’ve just worshipped my feet and listened to me.” Timmy heard the words but did not accept them as real. How could he? His own mother had just declared a life sentence of slavery on him, and threatened to end his life in the most painful manner possible. “No, No! I don’t believe you. You love me too much to do this to me. You’ve always forgiven me before. Come on Mom, can’t we get through this to?” Timmy, I never realized how sick you were before the past couple of days. You have deep problems, and I’ll freely admit that I’ve surprised myself up to this point with what I was capable of doing to you. But you’re no man, Timmy. Believe me, if your father were here, he would’ve kicked you out of our lives completely, no questions. So, in a way, you’re getting off easy. You still get to live in this house, and you still get to be with me, your mom, the object of your little fantasies. Now, young man, let me show you how easy your life could end, and how little I actually care about you now.”
Jane looked at her watch. She still had a little while before work. Besides, she was looking forward to what she was about to do. She held Timmy in her closed palm as she made her way to Timmy’s bedroom. Timmy, curled in a little ball, could smell his mother’s perfume and lotion while lying in her hand. Jane rummaged around in his closet until she found what she was looking for. Picking up the old G.I. Joe figure in her other hand, she carried both of her prey into the living room. Shoeless, but with her patented thin black nylons on, she lowered Timmy to the carpet. “I seem to remember you mentioning in your journal that you would sometimes use this little guy,” she motioned to the toy with a pointed toe, “as a stand-in for yourself while smelling my shoes. Now, let’s see how this little Timmy-stand-in fares against mommy’s vengeful feet!” Jane positioned Timmy so that he had a clear view of what she was doing. She placed the toy on the ground. She then slowly rubbed her big toe over the figure. She playfully rubbed its groin area, mocking what she’d done to Timmy the other day. Then, she picked the toy up and positioned it under her third and fourth toes. Ever so slowly, Jane increased the pressure, letting Timmy see how powerful her foot truly was. Timmy saw her calf bulge with the exertion and noticed her grimace for a second as the Timmy- action figure exploded under the awesome force of her toes. Nothing was left except plastic dust, which fell down on top of Timmy. Jane left her foot right above her son for a moment, flexing and un-flexing her toes before him, letting him take it all in. “Now, don’t you think it’s best to just give your life up to smelling my feet and avoid becoming a stain on my nylons?” Too scared to reply, Timmy simply stared wide-eyed into his mom’s nylon sole. Jane laughed and scooped Timmy up. I can’t have you getting desperate and trying to run away or killing yourself while I’m away at work now, can I? I think for the time being, I’ll just put you in one of my other shoes until I come up with a better place for you. Putting him in her red shoe in the closet, Jane then left for work.
Timmy pondered the life sentence that his mother had just declared for him. With the spirit-crushing display of her superiority over him through the demolishing of his action figure, a figure obviously meant to symbolize him, he felt it best to at least to go along with his mother’s plan. Perhaps she was still just trying to teach him a lesson? Who knows. Either way, there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it, that was for sure. As he lay in one of Jane’s old pumps, and breathed in her feminine scent of sweat, he shivered, all alone, left with nothing but the regrets of possessing a demented fetish and the carelessness that had ultimately led to his ruin. Meanwhile, Jane, who was normally in good sprits at work, found herself in an even better mood than usual. Gone was the uncertainty of giving in to what were now her desires to treat her son like the worm he was, and had really always been. In fact, she decided to take a guy’s repeated offers to take her to lunch up. Who knows, she thought, maybe I’ll fall for him. Or, Jane thought, he’ll fall for me, right at my feet! Whoo! This whole thing was getting pretty exciting for Jane. As she sat with her feet up on her desk, taking a brief break from her duties, she wondered if what had happened to Timmy could happen to anyone. Maybe the person had to have a desire for her feet for it to take place? In any matter, with Timmy’s future life course already etched in stone, and a probable end to that life at some point, she’d have plenty of time to check into it. A sly grin broke across her mouth as she just realized what she would do to Timmy when she got home.
Later that evening, with Timmy in her hand, and her shoes off, Jane was getting ready to commit some unspeakable acts on her son. “Timmy, I was thinking, I can’t remember you ever having been around or spoken to girls. In fact, I’m willing to bet that you’ve never had a sexual experience before, say for with yourself or when you fantasized about these,” she said, scrunching her toes while she held him in from of them. “Oh, I guess with me as well. A little bit. But that didn’t really count though. I mean, it was so quick and to the point. After all, at the time, I just wanted that little toy between your legs to shrink back. I didn’t want you enjoying your time with my feet. But you know what, little one? I don’t think it really matters. There’s no way, even with a boner, you could ever enjoy my smelly feet. Maybe you could from the safety of your journal, but not in reality. So, I guess what I’m getting at is that I’m going to force you to give up every ounce and drop of that juice in those little sacs of yours. Believe, me you’ve got more in there than you think. Now, get ready to be raped by your Mother’s smelly toes!” Timmy screamed for her not to do this. “Mom, this wrong, this is incest!” Smiling, Jane replied “Timmy, you’re not my son anymore, or at least anyone that I’m proud to have given birth to; you’re a bug and a prisoner whose life sentence consists of smelling and worshiping my feet. If I want to give you a footjob, that’s my choice. I don’t give a damn what a worm like you thinks or how you feel!
With that, Jane brought Timmy to her right foot, which was crossed over her knee. She playfully clinched her toes, and then ever so gently began to rub his naked groin over the bottoms of her nylon encased toes. A shudder of guilt and pleasure did in fact filter through Timmy, as his mother cooed softly to him as he started to emit some precum. Jane expertly rubbed her toes across his penis, eking tiny squeals of delight from Timmy. After only a couple of minutes, she felt Timmy cum on the underside of her big toe. “Good boy, Mommy’s proud of you. That’s only your third orgasm you’ve ever had with a real woman. Don’t worry, you’re going to have a lot more here. Timmy was tender from his orgasm, but Jane again slowly started to rub his naked body across her sole, pushing his face into the hellish crevices of her dirty after-work foot. Timmy began to cry as Jane placed his tiny penis between her pinky and fourth toe and rubbed him. Sore and broken, Timmy nonetheless again gave up his seed into the sweaty depths of her toe cleavage. Jane laughed as she felt the boy’s hips buckle from the extertion. She then placed Timmy on the carpet in her bedroom. She brought her foot up to her face, and was delighted to actually see the small wet spots her son had made. Blowing a kiss down to Timmy, She positioned the same foot above him, preparing to garner another orgasm form Timmy. Timmy was now in pain. He had nothing more left to give her, and wanted more than anything to just die. The fact that his own mother was raping him with her foot was just too wrong, and too much. However, Jane had a different plan. This time, she placed her toe crevices over his groin, trapping his penis in the soft, stinky folds of her foot flesh. From there, she ever so softly began to scrunch and flex her toes, milking Timmy for all he was worth. Despite his severe misgivings and having had two previous orgasms, he couldn’t help but start to rock his small hips in unison with his mother’s ministrations. Like a greedy vampire, Jane’s foot sucked another orgasm from Timmy. This time, only some clear fluid came. Still not satisfied, she forced a particularly brutal purging after that, leaving Timmy a quivering mass of nothing, a broken boy at a goddesses’ feet. “There, now don’t’ you feel so much more relaxed, now that your mom has finally given you what you always wanted? Why settle for cheap fantasy, when you can have the real thing?”
From there, Jane removed her nylons. She brought the one that she’d worn to rape Timmy with and showed him the results of his purging. Through tear streaked eyes, Timmy saw small white blotches along the toe area. “Well little son of mine, you know what my toes could really use about now? A good flossing. She picked him up, and in a novel act of cruelty, started to rub his body between her toes. She held his legs with one hand, and his head with the other, and rubbed his tired form over, under, and between both sets of her toes. Timmy was forced to suck in an abomination of toe jam and foot grime, as Jane used him as a piece of toe floss. The smell revolted him to the pit of his soul. His face, torso, and groin were covered in the dirty sweat from her feet. Never had he imagined this to be his fate. After an hour of this, Jane finally let Timmy flop to the with a wet splunking noise. She let him lay right in front of her foot for a minute before speaking. “You know Timmy, how much more of this should I put you through? We’ve come so far from where we started, I just don’t think keeping you around is beneficial for either of us. What do you think?” She nudged his prostrate form with her toe, letting his face rest on her nail area. “Want Mommy to stop, is that it? Want me to just grind you into jam under these big feet of mine?
Well, before I even consider it, remember that scene in your journal where you spent some time with my toenail? A spark of primitive, cold stark terror erupted through Timmy’s body and mind. Oh please God, don’t let her actually go through with this,! he screamed to himself. “At the time, I couldn’t believe that a person could actually dream up that kind of shit. But, your eyes have already seen what my feet are willing to do to you, and your privates have certainly felt them. I’m quite willing to give your wish a try, but I can’t promise you that it’ll work. You know, you might get smushed in there, or, heaven preserve us, you might get stuck up there and have to just die under your Mother’s big toenail.” I bet it’s unspeakably stinky under there, even more so than my whole foot put together! Well, here goes nothing! Jane picked the boy up, crossed her right foot across her left knee, and started to position him for insertion. He was small enough to fit; she’d actually anticipated this and let her nail grow out a little. “Wait, Mom, this will kill me!” He couldn’t help it, he began to scream like a little girl as Jane smirked at her sweat-coated son and gently pushed him headfirst up into her toenail. Immediately, the smell exploded Timmy’s entire mental universe. He wanted only to die and be away from this stenchful prison. He could hear his mother laughing as his entire naked form was positioned under the nail. With Timmy’s punishment set, she laid back on the couch and rested her large, meaty soles atop the coffee table. She scrunched her toes, desperately trying to make her son’s confinement as hellish as possible. For his part, Timmy had in fact lost his mind. Something broke inside him to where he no longer questioned anything about this. It was simply enough to know that wherever his mom’s strong soles were, that was where he belonged. This simpl truth broke through whatever humanity still resided in him, as the smell of Jane’s feet continued to rob him of a human identity. His penis completely and absolutely spent, tired and weary from time spent as Jane’s pleasure toy, Timmy eventually passed out from it all. Jane left him there for several hours, as she watched the news and relaxed from her day’s work, never letting the sly smirk leave her face the entire time.
From there, dear reader, Timmy’s life continued exactly in this same vain, constantly smelling, licking, and being raped by his Mother’s feet. Jane had spun a good enough story to get away with Timmy’s disappearance and probable death. Not many relatives even bothered to inquire all that much. Apparently they had always seen how expendable he was. Jane, for her part, had in fact taken her coworker up for lunch, followed by dinner, and from there they had started a relationship. With her confidence at an all time high, she continued to relish her time at home forcing her feet upon her little boy. She knew that he probably wanted to kill himself, or at least wanted her do it, so she always kept him inside her previous day’s nylons or socks while away at work. Timmy’s food always, always consisted of being mushed and squished soundly by Jane’s sweat drenched toes before he was allowed to eat. For desert, Jane forced the boy to consume pieces of toe jam and flint that had accumulated throughout the day. All in all, Timmy’s life was one of absolute servitude to her smelly feet. This remained the status quo for three years before Jane decided to end her foot-toy-son’s pathetic life once and for all.
Upon arriving home one day from work, Jane kicked off her pumps and stomped up to retrieve Timmy. “Do you want Mommy to stop all of this? I know these big stinky feet are too much for my little boy. So, all you have to do Timmy, is tell me you’ve had enough. Tell me to stop it, and I will. Forever.” Timmy was out of his mind. With each punishing breath he took of his mom’s giant feet, he grew more and more unwilling to want to even live. Her foot rapings were so demeaning and cruel. Everything about his life sucked. He had become his own Mother’s tiny little foot toy, and belonged to them completely. He knew Jane no longer even saw him as her son. How could she after so dehumanizing him with her big feet? She’s committed brazen acts of incest on him, and thought it was funny and cute! He knew that his mom was offering to stop torturing him by ending his life. It had finally come down to it. He couldn’t have written a more appropriate ending to his life as mommy’s foot sniffer. He decided to let her snuff his life out using the body parts that had controlled and ruined his life for the past several years.
Jane held the boy up to her ear to better hear his tiny squeaks. “Please mommy, I can’t take this anymore. Please stop. I’ll do anything to make it go away!” “Will you really, Timmy? If you’re being serious, then I want you to do something very important for me? Can you do whatever I ask of you?” Timmy nodded his tiny head, signaling that he would. “Good, now I’m going to set you down by the stereo in the living room. I want you to walk or crawl over to me and ask to smell my feet. After I tell you to go ahead, you will place that little face of yours under my smelly toes and breath in my sweat one last time. Remember when I first commanded you to do that? That was way back when I actually wanted to help you. And I do now, but just in a more firm manner.” Jane laughed at her cruelty and lack of remorse for what she was about to do to her own flesh and blood son, to whom she had given birth to and raised his whole life. “After you’ve smelled my foot for awhile, I’m going to tell you to ask me to crush you like a grape using my pretty toes. Then, I’ll tell you to grab a hold of my pinky toe and then I’ll do the rest. Trust me Timmy, there won’t be enough of you to even to conduct a DNA test after my feet are through with you. Now, let’s get this started.”
Jane placed Timmy on the ground and walked over to the couch, wiggling her hips seductively as she did so. She sat down, extended her strong, lithe legs out and crossed her ankles so that her feet were facing out. “Come here Timmy and smell your mother’s big feet for her.” Timmy knew that his life was about to end. But he hadn’t exactly been living for the past several years. His whole life had been relegated to serving his mom’s feet. It was time to end this nightmare. He slowly crawled like a worm over to his mom’s monstrously large feet, feet that he had come to know in exquisite detail down to which parts smelled stronger than others. When he got to her toes, like a dutiful son, he placed his face into the soft, pungent folds of her toe cleavage. He never had gotten used to the jolt that her stench hit him with. It was so potent, and made worse by the reality that it was his mom’s odor he was breathing in. Jane playfully scrunched her toes around the boy’s naked body, immersing him in her sweat and pungentness. The strong smell brought Timmy to his knees before this awesome female figure. Jane smiled at her son’s discomfort. “Good, that’s where you belong, on your knees smelling my nylon encased feet. She picked the boy up and placed him between her second and fourth toes and lay back onto her stomach to watch TV. She cooed softly as she felt her son’s tiny, futile efforts to escape her toes’ wrath. “Poor little Timmy, isn’t this what you always wanted, to be helpless and at the mercy of my feet? Oh, you feel so cute,” she laughed as she felt him struggling in the smelly undersides of her toes and heard him crying from their smell. She made sure that his face and body were firmly mired in the pungent depths of her toes. Timmy couldn’t believe that his mother had so enslaved him. Her feet, large at his regular size, were cyclopean now. There was something almost magical about what she had done to him. Who would have thought that such a beautiful woman and mother could melt her son’s very existence away just with her stinky feet?
Finally, after an hour of foot smelling, Jane gave the command that Timmy had anticipated. “Sweetie, it’s time to squish for mommy’s feet. Grab my pinky toe for me would you?” Timmy did as he was told. “Good, now just relax as mommy’s toes ground you into jam.” Jane laughed with the realization that this was it. She would never have her son around again after this. He’d only be a tiny stain that she would surely cherish for as long she lived. She wanted to punish Timmy though, to make his pain last. She slowly scrunched her toes over the boy’s naked body, enveloping him in their deadly grip. Before she made him into grape juice, she commenced with another milking of his beyond tired genitals. Achieving the desired result, she started to increase the force of her toes around her son’s body. After only a moment, she felt a pop come from his body, signaling that his legs and upper torso were now destroyed. She smiled approvingly as she saw just the tiniest trickle of blood creep out from her toes. Good, now it was time. Timmy had blacked out from the pain. He never realized his mom could be so cruel. Finally, with a smile on her face and her eyes closed, Jane let loose with an almost supernaturally intense squeeze of her toes that brought a grimace to her face. Jane absolutely and with all the finality of forever squished her son, Timmy, into nothing more than a red, wet stain on the underside of her smelly foot. Jane sat transfixed, in all of her regal glory, basking in the gruesome and wholly unnecessary destruction of her son. After several moments, during which time she pondered Timmy’s last moments alive. What had gone through his head right before her mighty, maternal toes erased those thoughts with an unforgiving crush? She removed her nylons. Surprisingly, Timmy’s remains had left a fairly large stain, primarily centered around the toe area, but traces of blood, and even semen could be found near the sole and heel. He’d really been full of juice, Jane thought to her self. Remembering the longest and most detailed journal entry, the one where she had done just this and kept the nylons, she smile the grin of a woman who’d had entirely too much fun ending another person’s life. Gathering her nylons and shoes, she did in fact stop to look at a picture of Timmy and her taken four years ago, almost to the day. The boy was small and knowing what she knew about him, she could easily determine the natural awe he had for her, just by his body language in the picture. She then took the picture, along with her nylons, and deposited them in a box for safe keeping. From there, she felt entitled to a long bath and a good lay with the new man in her life. She wondered, even at 43, if she would get lucky and have another child? She could only keep her fingers crossed, or for that matter, toes.