Bad Bet (Chapter 4) (Patreon)

Yet Tiara somehow showed them by speaking more magic words. Their sizes didn’t change, which Liam was glad for, since he wasn’t certain he could avoid blacking out from the stench if he was diminished in size down to a microbe. The trade-off, however, was that sweat suddenly began gushing up from the insole like dribbling geysers. As Liam and Nele jumped out of the way in panic, sprinting across the sticky ground to avoid having to wade through their friend’s dredged-up liquid foot gunk, the steadily-rising flood of gnarly-scented perspiration surplus quickly caught up to them, and they realized there was no escape anyway, as the entire landmass of the boot’s black insole was soon underwater, or rather undersweat.

“Is she going to drown us?” Nele cried.

“No… not on purpose… but we have to swim!” Liam said, not believing his own courage, as the fluid rose up to their necks, then kept on flowing. The higher the unnatural sweat deluge capped in the humongous boot like a bucket of toxic waste, the more the various glued-down dreck bits littered about all floated to the top, namely the sopping lint-balls and spots of caked mud. Suddenly the pair were treading for life in the frothing stew of their friend’s magically-multiplied secretions, intermixed with an equally-repellant scattering of trampled grass, vinegar-soiled cotton, and dead skin.

“Look, it’s actually working! I really am amazing at this, don’t you think?” Tiara cheered, confirming none of this was an accident.

If anything, she was encouraged to amplify the effects, repeating her indecipherable chant and causing the dammed-up sweat to fill up the boot twice as fast. Soon Liam and Nele were rising toward the top, which would’ve been welcome, if not for the fact that they were traveling there on a viscid ever-ascending tide of bubbly gag-worthy tomboy-sweat that threatened to swallow them up every few seconds. Several times, in fact, the shrinkers couldn’t paddle the water fast enough to keep their heads afloat, dunking below and intaking a hellish gulp of the tainted stuff before sputtering back to the surface. Their only source of optimism was the mouth of the boot becoming gradually larger from their lowly perspectives, meaning eventually Tiara might cause the boot to overflow, pouring her friends out of their stinky hovel upon a billowing white-water-rapids sweat-fall. Much to their dismay, however, Liam and Nele found themselves still mired somewhere halfway up the broad entry tube of the giantess’s footwear, as the accursed moat of murky pore-drippings stopped expanding, thus stranding the pair to keep on floating in place to the point of exhaustion.

“Hey, great swimming, you two!” Tiara congratulated with sincerity, though she went back to salivary chuckling right after. “I bet that felt great, huh? A nice cooldown after being out here in the mean ol’ sunlight all day? Boy, I sure am jealous of you guys! Okay, okay, maybe that’s a joke, I’m way happier out here where it’s not so smelly, but I hope it was fun for you at least! A little fun!”

Too miserable and fatigued to dignify this mockery with an answer, Liam and Nele stuck close together, hardly able to keep their heads above the tall ocean of debris-flecked foot sweat now.

“All right, it’s a lot less hilarious for me if you two can’t even say anything back,” Tiara admitted. “There is something else I want to try, as long as I’ve got you there, but maybe we’ll just let LIAM have all the fun, since he’s the one who made such a terrible bet with me! Nele, why don’t you come on out of there?”

With a wave of her hand and more witchcraft, the giantess caused Nele to spring out of the soupy sole-treated saltwater, the tiny lass wailing as her shrunken body shot up toward the light on a roller coaster arc, then vanished over the side. While Liam was glad his crush might finally get some relief from boggy underworld of Tiara’s sweltering boot, he couldn’t help but feel regret at being left alone once again; the solitude somehow made him seem even tinier.

As it turned out, he wasn’t going to be alone for long. Liam received a fleeting glimpse of Nele again through the boot maw, the blonde apparently just as astronomic of a goddess-sized girl again, which meant she’d been regrown to her natural size, albeit still soaked head-to-toe in sweat and even decorated with soil smudges and pieces of toe crud earned by her venture into her friend’s shoe. He smiled, glad she would be allowed to recover, but swiftly had his mood changed back to dread when the ovular glow to the outside world was eclipsed by the tremendous isle of Tiara’s furrowed sole flesh and wiggling toes like marshmallow-puffed pink boulders. Though she’d been barefoot in the open air for a little while now, the skin of her ped’s underside still glistened and even beaded with excess sweat, all the more so when she flexed her digits and revealed rubber-and-cotton refuse gelled to the pale inner flanks of her toe skin.

“Oh, God…” Liam squeaked, while the shadow of her sole overtook him. “TIARA, NO! N-Nele? HELP ME!”

The shrunken fellow saw the high-borne faces of the giantesses one last time through the V-shaped crevice of Tiara’s toe cleavage, and then the punky enchantress rammed her shapely filth-patterned foot inside. A split-second later, her toes splashed down into the meniscus of the sweat well, churning up waves and forcing Liam quickly back under the smothering surface as he was helplessly pinned spread-eagle across the cushy midsection of her naked arch. Not even a champion swimmer would’ve had a prayer of escaping the force of nature that was Tiara’s inward stomp. Combined with the endless pond of silty toejam-infused grease, it felt like having a whale dropped on top of him, especially since the giantess showed little mercy in dropping her leg fast, as though she’d spotted a bug in her shoe in need of instant pulverizing.

Ironically, only the whirlpooling vastness of the magic saline helped break the fall of her sole and thus blunt its collision with the tiny man lost among her disgusting plain of unwashed skin. The lower Tiara’s foot was dunked, the more of her liquid-state exertion gurgled up toward the surface, soon spilling over the sides like emptying a bilge tank. Still, a hearty quantity of perspiration sloshed about inside like a spa treatment, right as the dirty-blonde’s sole squelched back against the bottom, now with the diminutive loser of their unfortunate bet clamped with dominating finality between the quashy obsidian floor and her beefy feminine crease-laden sole. Briefly, Liam was able to find the last scraps of semi-breathable air by sticking his face hard against the divots of the giantess’s sole wrinkles, accidentally worshipping her foot again with his miniscule lips in the process of trying to oxygenate. However, once the remainder of the sweat lake was allowed to settle into those fleshy grooves as well, the shrinker was totally submerged under her, and felt his stomach and lungs rapidly ballooning with sluiced exercise-fluid squeezed out of every giant skin cell.

Fading fast now, Liam had always imagined that one day Tiara’s over-the-top and occasionally selfish sense of humor might cause a joke to go too far. He just never dreamed it would happen like this.

Having the time of her life now, Tiara scooted her rump along the trampoline, right past the newly regrown Nele covered in a crispy glaze of shoe-baked foot oil and coughing herself hoarse, and hopped back into the grass. There was no hesitation in slamming her athletic soles down into the pond-scummed basins of her rubber footwear, forcing the liquid-corroded terrain and her shrunken prisoner to bear her full weight for the first time all at once. More sweat-gloop pumped up the sides again from this energetic gesture, though the bowels of the boot still remained an odious aquarium of perspiration, with its single little “fish” still buried under the falling island of the giantess farm girl’s seismic sole.

Though not much more than a meter-and-a-half in height, Tiara was an absolute megaton colossus compared to Liam, who guessed by now that her magic had offered some additional durability to keep him from squishing to a crimson splat on impact, because otherwise it just didn’t seem possible that a body so tiny and fragile as his could withstand the brunt of her foot. Nevertheless, the pressure from her barely-yielding sweat-pruned flesh was mounting to unfathomable levels, and his airways were inflating with so much pungent saltwater, he might’ve almost sprouted gills. Whether it was the leaden footfalls or the lack of air in the sloppy insole which did him in, though, Liam knew he probably had less than a minute before expiring, if not less, considering the stomping confidence of Tiara’s strut continually battering him up against the slope of her deep pleated arch when it rose, then flattening him like a pancake back into the hardy black floor when her boot crashed down through the grass and loam all over again.