For Richer, For Smaller (Chapter 6) (Patreon)

Every individual skin cell of Lillian’s luxurious, toasty, spa-smooth, cardio-stiffened soles currently in contact with her husband’s helpless splayed-out body was coming down on Tony like a nail-pounding hammer in congress with all the rest: a pair of living landscapes that wove into such gorgeous meaty murals of podophilic architecture. God, it was so much at once, and it was amazing. At once, he perceived the deluxe squish-factor flexibility of her wrinkle valley sole flesh as if it was just brushing coyly by his cheek, and yet still endured the ponderous double-footed payload of a woman who’d never seemed so deliciously godlike (if only for the length of a trample session) before this exact minute, when she was giving him all of herself, like he knew always he’d deserved. Even as the giantess remained cautiously stationary while standing upon Tony, though, the shrinker could feel every juncture and thread of micro-musculature that lurked below the pampered porously-soft surface of Lillian’s arches pulsating from instant-to-instant adjustments in her balance, as if she was constantly sifting and smushing her soles every which way. This might’ve felt like a massage, if the standard degree of pressure under these enormous peds wasn’t already a concentrated simulation of said masseuse elbow-grinding a deep knot out of one’s back. As such, Tony wasn’t feeling oscillations between gentle fondling and fleeting dig-ins like in a standard happy-ending massage, but instead between outright suffocating tension and a heightened near-numbing strength that made him want to grunt from duress and cry hallelujah at once.

He was supremely grateful that Lillian hadn’t immediately stepped off of him right when the going was just getting good, in the absence of any positive sign from him that things were going so swimmingly down here. She must’ve finally learned to trust his authority in matters where he, frankly, knew more than she ever would, which Tony appreciated. Granted, he had mildly fudged the truth to her about his “new” body’s tolerance for underfoot compulsion. Of course he’d indeed thought to finance research that would, supposedly, make him tougher for the good times ahead, proportionate to his six-inch form. He craved extreme experiences, being trampled by a beautiful-footed siren most of all, but he wasn’t suicidal. Yet so much of this project was theoretical, given the kind of scientific and technological ground-breaking at play, that Tony wouldn’t necessarily have bet his whole fortune on the revamped durability of his shrunken form being able to tank Lillian’s unadulterated giantess-scope weight without a few bruises to show for it after. And he’d have happily allowed some purple-splotchy pressure-spots to adorn his body, if that was the entry fee to exist below her like this.

But as it turned out, while Tony could hardly call this encounter a painless one – in fact, it hurt quite a bit, and oh so good – by no means did he feel like his bones were on the verge of breaking, nor organs bordering on bursting. He might even emerge bruise-free if the pressure was maintained this uniformly across his meager physiology the entire time, and he had faith that Lillian’s dedication and gratitude to him as the breadwinner would ensure she kept still as a sentinel while wedging him so wholly between her remarkably punishing feet and this thankfully forgiving mat foam. How he was able to draw such regular breath was another mystery Tony couldn’t quite explain, since his lungs felt essentially depleted, and his nostrils and lips were squashed tight as saran wrap against the bulging quagginess of Lillian’s central sole rimples. Yet somehow or other, he was breathing, or at least mutedly suckling up dregs of funk-tainted oxygen directly from the grooves in the giantess’s skin, and it was evidently sufficient to let him stay cogent and conscious. Which was assurance aplenty to make him put that question aside.

The thought-broiling heat, the skin-to-skin seal, and most of all the elephantine pressure from his gargantuan spouse’s feet remained every bit as ferocious. But as the minutes under her wore on, Tony found himself gradually summiting that overwhelming early phase of the new high, just as he knew he would, and instead lightly floating (at least mentally) in a lazy river of lust-pumping bliss that didn’t for a moment let him forget where he was. He wouldn’t have ever wanted to dull those feelings, anyhow. If anything, he felt more opened up now to devouring the complete sensuous feast of this subjugating phenomenon: closer than ever to total liberation in his mind, body, and soul while embracing every iota of dexterous stimulation, creamy-sultry terrain, stamped pain, and overall smothering constriction beneath the living avalanche of Lillian’s soles.

He’d been sporting a hard-on, naturally, from the moment he marched out of the home office and beckoned the woman to come perform her wifely duty, so she must’ve again been relying upon the compliment of his pants tent to know that he was still all right. Nevertheless, even as the comedown of the giantess’s right sole necessitated flattening that tiny bulge up against his stomach, his prick continued to valiantly twitch as his layers of awareness sunk deeper into the harsh blessing of being stood upon by his colossal spouse. Ironically enough, that network of musculature tweaks and pulses happening throughout the complex of Lillian’s ample sole was also taking effect right above Tony’s desperate groin, but these accidental flinches didn’t turn into some kind of full-body footjob. There was no need for that. Feeling so complete beneath the leaden capacity of his wife’s all-encompassing peds, and so unbreakably certain that he’d never accomplished anything more important in his life than this, the shrinker fidgeted and mewled into a boxer-soaking climax without a single stroke of additional fluffing required. This in fact was usually their routine, with Lillian strutting all over her husband’s formerly six-foot-three build, including his loins, and ending with a face-mashing finale that always inspired him toward orgasm. So often those occasions required longer erotic buildup than this, however, or at least livelier motion on her part, such as scrunching her nimble toe shafts or spooning her soles for all their lithe marshmallow-pudgy rosy-creased worth across his features. But this time, the first of what he knew would be infinite repetitions to come, Tony needed no more than five minutes of peaceful yet highly-charged embalming underneath the best soles that money could buy before he arrived at this most explosive finish of his charmed life. The squealing hip-jittery vigor of his reaction, in fact, was at last the sign which seemed to make Lillian tip away the burden of her warm arches and leave her spent goofily-grinning spouse to collect himself again.

If history was any indication, Tony fully expected his wife to gasp with boggle-eyed concern, probably clutching her necklace and gnawing her fingernails to nubs, from the second she uncovered him post-trample. And that was sure to be a bit of a buzzkill for his orgasmic afterglow. The six-incher was pleasantly surprised, then, to hear nothing at all once Lillian had stepped off of the mat, and so he only smiled as if waking from a good dream, with his eyes still clenched shut from their session, and indulged himself with another minute of basking in that roller coaster of sensory memories he’d gleaned. When Tony finally did open his lids and stare up the quiet monolith of his sandy-blonde beauty’s body towering patiently above him, however, he could’ve sworn for a surreal moment that he almost didn’t recognize that lovely countenance gazing back down at him. Perhaps it was a momentary glint in her eyes, the curves at the corners of her lips, or just a trick of the hallway ceiling lights. Whatever the case, Tony forgot about it in an instant when Lillian knelt above him, wearing her more-traditional expression of breath-withheld anxiety.

“Well?” she sighed, her tone amenable but primmer than before. “How was that?”

“It was perfect,” he swooned. “They were perfect. This is it. This is what I’ve been waiting for, wanting all this time. Fuck, I can’t even describe it. Welcome to our new life, babe. You know I couldn’t have done it without you.”