Bad Bet (Chapter 5) (Patreon)

Meanwhile, Nele was just barely finding coherency again, having suffered whiplash from dwindling to insect size, riding a monsoon of grunge-and-vinegar runoff up a boot tunnel with, then reverting back to normal in the blink of an eye. Every part of her body was still doused and weeping from her friend’s bitterly-earthy excretions, the sweat traveling down her skin and through her hair in itchy rivulets. It made her want to take a hundred showers while shivering and gagging all the while from existential abhorrence, but after spitting out a mouthful of the glop on the trampoline, she looked up at the familiar sound of Tiara’s boots squeaking and squashing with every aquatic step away, like a watery alarm announcing her arrivals and exits. The dirty-blonde was traipsing away across the yard with her usual arrogant gait, and since Nele didn’t see Liam anywhere, she had to guess he wasn’t lucky enough to be allowed an escape.

At that moment, Nele’s heart jumped into her throat; eyes widened and her jaw dropped, watching Tiara’s feet ascend and then smack back down, showing no gentleness to either side, and surely tenderizing the shrunken occupant into mincemeat indistinguishable from the blobs of toejam he was currently swimming and sticking amongst. Though she’d been unable to outrun their naturally outdoorsy hostess during the race, Nele was determined not to leave Liam to such a grimy fate. Jumping off the trampoline, she sprinted full-tilt after Tiara, who turned and grinned with amusement at the sight of her incoming friend, then had her boot-clad feet purposefully swept out from under her as the pair tackled one another to the ground. Within the claustrophobic rubber-and-skin confines of his sweat-brewed possible grave, the lone shrunken victim found gravity flipped on its head. He was slapped back and forth between meaty sole and boot trough like a ping-pong ball, gasping up temporary oxygen reserves as the exponential pore slime violently sloshed him to and fro, from boot toe to heel.

“Let him OUT! NOW!” Nele barked.

“Wow, you really know how to wrestle when you’re mad! It’s so CUTE!” Tiara cheered, genuine in this compliment, as her smaller friend growled and fought to subdue the enchanted giantess. The elder girl defended herself, but only meekly so, clearly too busy laughing and inadvertently spraying giggle-spit at Nele’s face, though it still couldn’t match the sheer volume of her foot sweat plastered over the rest of her bestie’s body. “Hey, he agreed to the bet! It’s only fair he serves his full sentence. So, if you think I’m going to make him BIG just yet, even if you can get him out of there, you’re crazy! Sorry, but Liam’s got to remember what’s at stake from now on when he goes face-to-face with me in a game, or maybe we should call it toe-to-toe? No, I’ve got it! Face-to-toe! PERFECT!”

Upon hitting this realization, Tiara fell into such spastic saliva-dispensing cackles, it was as if Nele was tickling every part of her body at once. Despite this flat refusal to regrow Liam, however, the girl was focused only on liberating him, grabbing hold of the boot which held him captive and wrenching it hard down Tiara’s leg. It wasn’t easy, since the adhesive buildup of charmed sweat spilled up the sides and created friction, but Nele didn’t give up, grunting and tugging with all her might, until the black galosh came flying off at once.

A veritable marshland’s worth of juicy flaky perspiration detritus poured every which way from the dark mouth of the boot, the results especially gleaming like sugar-coated frosting over Tiara’s wiggly toes and ruddy-pink sole, but Nele saw no sign of Liam in the fragrant rush of viscous foot-pestilence. He was still inside. Holding her breath, the brave rescuer stuck her hand all the way into the boot and gingerly searched across the insole, at first mistaking several slippery concretions of lint and dead skin glued to the bottom as Liam’s body. Wincing, she kept hunting, until she discovered him writhing for help while tacked in a bowl-depression where Tiara’s repeated wear had melted down the rubber via heat and toxically smelly sweat. In a flash, she cradled him between her fingertips and pried him off the hot rubber like a wad of discarded chewing gum, since he’d in fact begun to adhere to the landscape of the boot after that brief but apocalyptic ride.

“You can’t keep him small like this forever, you know!” Nele defiantly proclaimed to their friend, as she stood above Tiara, with Liam protectively cupped in her hand. “Have your fun if you have to, but I’m taking him home to get cleaned up, and that way he’ll be nice and safe and far away from your boots, until you finally realize how not-funny it is to make people tiny and stick them in your sweaty shoes! PROMISE me that you’re done dropping him in those disgusting things, Tiara, now!”

“Okay, fine,” the girl said, rolling her eyes and devilishly smirking, then raised a hand to prove her honesty. “I double-swear and pinky-promise that I’m done dumping lil’ Liam in my boots, or any other of my shoes. Cross my heart and hope to die. Happy? And if you want to hog him all to yourself, that’s fine too! I know how to share toys, after all. HA!”

Deciding to let this comment go, Nele scooped up her discarded sneakers and indignantly marched off barefoot through the grass toward her car, carefully fencing Liam in between her fingers and trying to offer him comforting glances, despite knowing how overwhelming this had to be. Indeed the shrinker felt rather overcome, but was immensely relieved to be out of that sunken hell-boot at last, breathing clean air instead of the humid fog of either girl’s sole, and affectionately held in the hand of his crush. All things considered on this absurd afternoon, things could’ve been a lot worse.

Then he and Nele heard a faint whisper of snickered magic words, and Liam received damnation for his optimism in the form of his lungs shriveling to an empty vacuum, more severe even than when he was trapped under Tiara’s burly sole slab in a musky sweat-fizzing sea. It was like he’d forgotten how to process oxygen. Doubling over in the giantess’s hand, he hacked and seized to no avail, while a panic-stricken Nele withheld a scream, then ran back toward their powerful friend for answers. Before she could shout any commands, however, Tiara quieted her with a pompous Cheshire-smile and a response she wasn’t afraid to bellow across the whole farm:

“Hey, I didn’t break my word! I said I wouldn’t drop him in MY shoes, and that you were free to take him with you! And that’s all true. Only, there’s a catch: for the rest of the summer, Liam will only be able to live off the smell of your feet. Take him away from that stink for too long, and he’ll die.”

Beset with horror, Nele looked down at the micro-boy still struggling for life in her palm.

“Y-You’re going to kill him!” the younger girl cried.

“What? No, I’m not! Weren’t you listening to what I just said?” Tiara scoffed, wiping another drool blob away, only to flick it in Liam’s direction like a gloopy catapult payload. “He’ll only die if you take him away from that smell. So, if anybody kills him, it’ll be you… on accident, obviously. And only if you can’t give him enough sweat to sniff up. But, what’s so hard about that? It’s SUMMER! It’s hot out! And tt’s not like your feet are ever going to smell very good. If you ever have to clean them up, just plop him in your shoe. Boom, problem solved! Seriously, use your head, Nele. Also, you might want to drop him in those sneakers right now, before he wastes away.”

Gulping, but knowing there was no other choice, Nele raised one sneaker and tipped her palm, so the accursed multi-millimeter fellow toppled off her fingertips and landed smack-dab on the spongy dirt-soaked impression of her foot tattooed gray across the giant ground-down insole. Anxiously she watched him continuing to struggle, with her face brought so near to her feverish interior of her shoe that she could wrinkle her nostrils in memory of just how hard she’d exerted herself today in these puppies. This also meant he’d have the best chance of survival. Noticing Tiara crowding close to her shoulder for a look too, the girls both awaited Liam’s reaction. Slowly they heard his empty rasps turn to labored huffs, and then he stood, quaking from the effect of the bittersweet aroma, but breathing “normally” again, just like the golden-haired witch had promised.

“W-Well? Are you… okay, Liam?” Nele whispered, on the verge of tears, while Tiara only observed with an egotistical smarm. “Please tell me you’re okay!”

“F-Fine,” he croaked, and strangely, this was hardly much of a lie. He closed his eyes and tanked up his lungs with the ripe, tangy flavor of the angelic blonde’s foot odor, and again discovered it wasn’t without merit. “Let me put it this way: I’ll gladly take an entire summer in YOUR shoes instead of one single more minute in her boots!”

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THE END