Love Triangle (Chapter 3) (Patreon)

Finally, an hour later, entirely winded, Brian was on autopilot. His legs ached and he was mildly bruised from being playfully flipped and batted about by Olivia’s toes after each stomp, which meant he was minutes from being trapped under the actual oncoming slab of fleshy, beefy, toned foot. One crash and then it would be over. Cut to black. There were worse ways to go, he supposed, but still Brian was sad, having never gotten the chance to savor his mechanical miracle. Her foot approached from above, and he dodged it only by flinging himself with his last drop of adrenaline, getting a hard punch in the ribs from her pillowy pinky for his trouble, and Brian went down, unable to run. When next the shadow consumed, he knew this was it. Shutting his eyes, he felt doughy sole flesh molding around his frame, pinning him upon the carpet to the point of rug-burn. Arch wrinkles swelled around, lightly moist and fragrant of shoe-leather and musky sweat. Oxygen left his lungs and pressure mounted.

But Brian didn’t implode. Instead the strain relented, and Olivia’s foot was gliding along over him, almost petting, until her toes arrived again. She separated her big and second toes to their fullest extent, then easily wedged her exhausted ex-boyfriend into the malleable slot again. Her foot rose off the ground, still gripping the defeated Brian, until she took a regal seat on her bed, still not squeezing.

Why was he not dead?

“Exhibit B, as promised,” Olivia triumphantly stated. Her leg crossed over the opposite knee, keeping her helpless ex suspended far above the ground. “I made you believe I was going to stomp you dead. Unlike before, there was no ambiguity. I told you I was goingto squash you. I even roughed you up a little bit. You had no reason to doubt me, and yet…”

Out of sorts, Brian peered at the lithe swaths of omnipresent toe flesh bunched around his body. In his panic, he hadn’t noticed at first, but now the proof was plain, especially because it was being tickled between two folds of webbed wrinkle. His erection was throbbing like never before. When Olivia pulsed her digits together, clamping but not injuring, her toe-crevice slid tighter around his member and Brian, God help him, involuntarily moaned. Quiet fell over the bedroom, followed by villainous cackling from the victor.

“…and yet even the threat of death isn’t enough to make you stop admiring me,” Olivia said when she recovered. Her foot bobbed in midair, swinging Brian about. “Obviously I was deceiving you for the purposes of demonstration, since there’s no way I’d dispose of you before I made my full case, but even so. It was real to you. But you can’t even rely on your own self-preservation when it comes to your adoration for my pretty feet, for my… giant, luscious body, towering over you, making you feel like the pathetic powerless worm that you are. Based on this evidence, do you surrender your rights as a person yet and agree to spend your life as my little slave?”

Delirious, horny, and getting nauseous from Olivia’s toes squirming and swaying around, Brian fought to prop himself up in the crevice: “P-Please, Olivia. I’m… sorry for… hurting you, for… ending things the way I did. I know you’re m-mad. But… this… we c-can’t do this, I-”

“Who said I’m mad? In fact, I’m thrilled that we have this chance now to make things right,” the girl haughtily interrupted. Her foot mercifully ceased the roller coaster and lowered back to the carpet, resting on the floor, but not spreading her toes to release her capture yet. Rather than thrash about, it softly scrunched in rhythm around Brian’s hips, pulling his legs and cock deeper into the warm toe-embrace. “No, what would make me mad is if you continued refusing to see the logic of this. The inevitability. Even when we were together, let’s face it, you were never the alpha. You were into me because I know how to take charge. Because I know what you want before you even want it. Because I not only tolerate your kinks but embrace them. And also because I showed interest in you when, frankly, I’m at least ten leagues out of your league.”

Brian gulped. That was, essentially, all true. Even now, in a way.

“But you’re still going to make me show Exhibit C, aren’t you, pipsqueak? That’s all right. I was looking forward to this one anyway, and I have no doubt after we’re done, you’ll see there are certain benefits to being mine other than the fact that I might not squash you. Yes, you heard me right. You’re going to like this, you sick little perv. Now, stand up and face me.”

At that moment, Olivia’s toes flexed open and Brian plopped out. Too afraid now to try disobeying, and too drained to even dream of fleeing, he stumbled up and turned to the behemoth foot which had just finished manhandling him. Despite the setbacks and life-threats, when standing before the altar of his ex-girlfriend’s living monument of a body, he was transfixed. Brian couldn’t tear his eyes off her enormous naked feet, shapely and sculpted by hot yoga, yet still plush and even marshmallowy around the toe-tips and sole basin. Her skin was flawless, unblemished, sun-kissed and smooth. The glossy perfectly-filed shine of her toenails was sheer enough for Brian to see his meager reflection in them. He could feel the heat radiating off her every skin cell. An aroma clouded them like atmosphere, including the same raunchier flavors of perspiration and shoe-stench he’d already detected, but also pleasanter scents, such as lilac body wash and that citrusy lotion she used to rub on her soles right before giving him a footjob.

“I know it’s been a while,” Olivia drawled, thumping her toes in sequence on the carpet before Brian. “But I’m sure someone as obsessed as you will remember how to properly worship a foot. Even if they’re just a little bigger than you now. So start rubbing like you mean it, or I’m going to chase you again.”

Maybe out of survival instinct, maybe out of gnawing need, Brian leapt to work. He took hold of Olivia’s pinky toe first, just as plump and juicy as he recalled, and started vigorously caressing, clamping it in his palms and digging his fingers in. When his ex-girlfriend twitched, he moved on to the next slightly-larger toe, giving it the same attention, even though it was tougher to manage. Then came another and another. Olivia mostly held still to let him work, sometimes murmuring with contentment and approval, but also sometimes pressing her toe into his face and chest, just as an overt reminder of her extreme strength and size advantage. Moving along, he arrived at her two big toes in the center of her resting feet, each of which was longer and bulkier than his whole body, if not double. This was more a wrestling match than a massage now, and it took all Brian’s effort to avoid being pinned beneath the oily toeprints. He hadn’t forgotten how easily he was saddled up to those monstrous digits earlier. Outmatched, yet diligent and even strangely grateful, Brian finished all ten toes.

“Not bad. Your technique is rusty, but then again, maybe it’s just because you’ve got insect-hands now. So maybe you’ve just got to work harder. Seriously, you’re not going to hurt me by putting in more effort. And I see that hard-on, so don’t think I don’t know how much you’re loving this,” Olivia judged. She gave her toes a pinch, then turned both feet on their sides like beached whales, revealing her paler, supple soles beneath. “Bottoms now. Really get in there, or I may have to clap my feet while you’re standing between.”

Brian again rushed to his duty, more vulnerable than ever as he posed in between two upturned feet. It was even harder getting much of a grip, as Olivia’s soles lacked the globular curves of her toes, instead acting as whole islands of fleshy terrain themselves with miniature wrinkle-ravines and slopes. Still his enthusiasm and increasing devotion, subconscious or not, caused Brian to put his all into this job. Grabbing fistfuls of hardy yet delicate foot flesh, lukewarm and flowery-sour-smelling, the shrunken man was in reluctant heaven. This was the kind of thing he’d had wet dreams about since puberty. Knowing Olivia couldn’t be harmed, he threw himself into the task: pumping sole-divots, circle-stroking the pudgy balls of her feet, kneading the dense heel, even punching and kneeing the walls like bread dough. It was tiring anew, but this time Brian was committed. Much as he hated Olivia for all the emotional abuse she’d caused him during their relationship, and the physical abuse she’d caused him today, he couldn’t deny that she knew how to deliver on his fetishistic whims.