Work From Home (Chapter 3) (Patreon)

“Ouch,” Blair said, watching her shrunken father’s ordeal with great interest. Again she covered a hand over her lips, half-heartedly stifling the instinctive schoolgirl giggle. Having sufficiently recovered from the post-work doldrums due to the sheer invigoration of seeing her bum dad at last put in his place, she planted both feet flat on the floor and knelt before the ottoman for a closer examination of Larissa’s every minute action.

“What? That didn’t hurt. Oh, you meant ouch for him. Yeah, probably.” Larissa raised and lowered in leg in slow succession, like some kind of callisthenic practice, all the while keeping a hard tug on the reins of her stocking, ensuring Carl was kept flush and sealed to the stuffy, pillowy blockade of her foot no matter what angle she tipped it. She pointed her toes, then flared them out, stretching the nylon by a few more millimeters, which made a palpable difference to Carl, who only quietly mewled like a wounded animal, too shocked at his daughter’s acceptance of this madness to speak in protest. Overwhelmed inside and out, Carl’s eyes watered with tears even while his erection prodded insistently between the folds of the nearest luxurious crevice in Larissa’s arch.

“Still, he’s… probably not hating it, either…” Blair admitted softly, a sly look crossing her face. The gears were turning, and she twirled a lock of hair around her finger, her eyes bobbing up and down to follow the track of Larissa’s carnival-ride foot and its unwilling-willing passenger inside the nylon.

“What do you mean?” Larissa asked.

“Well, I… don’t know for sure, and this might be a little crazy, but I think my dad’s got some, you know… special interests.”

Carl jaw hung open. Where was she headed with this? Suddenly hyper-conscious of his erection, he tried to will it to go away, but found this impossible, especially as Larissa’s foot-bucking motion was getting faster, rising and falling while propped across her opposite appendage. Combined with the rhythmic motion, the raunchy aroma bathing his senses, and the butter-smooth touch of her skin against his delicates, resisting wasn’t an option. The stocking was getting tighter all the time, pushing his hard-on yet deeper into the meaty sole-wrinkle.

“Like?” Larissa yawned and checked her phone.

“Like… your other little guy’s interest, actually,” Blair said with a gulp, muscling her way past the embarrassment, and instead finding the humor in the idea of Carl’s foot fetish. When her father was full-sized, it was just plain creepy to think of him lusting after her friends’ bare peds or even, unless she was mistaken, her own from time to time. Now that he was just a runt, easily dropped into a stocking and sent on a wild naked ride, it was just amusing to think about. Like imagining an ant idolizing the very shoe that was about to squash it flat.

“Oh, you mean he’s a foot-freak too?”

“Yes. Exactly. I think my dad’s a foot-freak.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, lots of things. He used to give my mom a lot of foot rubs. Like, a lot of them. He’d even sort of kiss them at the end, just as a joke, but he’d do it every time, and right in front of me, too. Not so much anymore, but I also see him, you know, watching her down there a lot. Watching other people too. Like, I hate to have to point this out, because of where he is right now, but um, I think he might have a little thing for yours, specifically.”

“Oh, I think he definitely does. His pecker is hard as a rock. I mean, it’s a little hard to tell, because it’s so effing small, even for a dude his size, but I’ve had him on for a while now,” Larissa reported coldly, clearly having already ascertained this information for herself.

Carl nearly choked, even though he had nothing in his throat. Immediately he became painfully aware of the intense scrutiny from his daughter’s gaze lasering through him, even though they weren’t meeting eyes. Though this accidental sole-fucking was achieving so many recent fantasies, and also satisfying him in a kinky way that his wife Tamatha had slacked off in the past few years, Carl was suffused with shame and self-loathing, which he was rather unaccustomed to. In this scenario, however, there was no way to avoid the feeling of being trapped in ancient wooden stocks in the town square, ready to be pelted with rocks, while the townsfolk casually discussed his mortal fate.

“Huh, okay. So I wasn’t crazy after all.”

“Nope. He’s a total drooling foot-lover. Maybe even worse than Ted,” Larissa said. “It’s not just you who noticed. I’ve caught him looking a lot. Not that it’s weird for me or anything. That’s how most days are for me, no matter who I’m with.”

“Yuck, sorry about that. But, I guess you don’t really care, then?”

“Mmm, no, not really. Especially for a guy as small and pathetic as him, having him down there under my foot, and knowing that he’s into having this foot on top of him, it’s sort of just like an ugly puppy humping my leg. Yeah, it’s gross, but it’s kinda cute too, and plus he’s too stupid and lowly to get anything better for himself, so I can’t really blame him either. I mean, I’ll still make sure he pays his dues and serves well for the right to be near them, like Ted is, but you know.”

“Wow. Yeah, okay…” Blair said, chewing over this philosophy with a twinkle in her eye. “I sometimes think… well, I hate to say this, too, but God, you’re right about him, he is so desperate and kind of sick, I think he’s… looked at mine, too. Not just in a normal way, but like, stared. When I’ve laid here watching TV, or sat out by the pool, or even just him looking under the table while we eat dinner.”

“He definitely does,” Larissa confirmed.

“Oh, shit, so it’s not just me. How do you know for sure?”

“Just trust me,” the siren-like redhead murmured. “I see things.”

Blair nodded solemnly, able to trust her friend’s perception probably better than anyone else alive, then at last returned her attention to the little man ensnared in the sweat-caked web of the dark nylon. Her attention alight with fresh appreciation for the magnitude of his uselessness and degeneration as a person, Blair shook her head, somehow managing to find a modicum of pity for her shrunken father.

“So, you said he’s into this right now. Do you think he’d actually…”

“Oh, I’m positive he will. The only reason he didn’t earlier was because I was walking on him the entire time, which probably hurt a little, and he wasn’t tied in place like Ted, so he couldn’t get a consistent beat,” Larissa continued, just as bored and breezy about the subject as before. “Just watch. You’ll see how easy it is. He’s so needy, I could do this in my sleep.”

Like with Ted, she discussed these most intimate matters more cavalierly than a grade school science project. Suddenly the girl’s svelte foot halted in mid-arc, and she pulled the nylon up her leg to its absolute maximum reach. The threads groaned, threatening to pop at any second around Carl’s back, but they held in place. Spread flat as a stamped moth, the unfortunate little man had no capacity to push back with any of his miniature limbs, nor the fortitude to curl his spine and retract his dick out from that oppressively humid, sticky foot-wrinkle that Larissa had been surgically raping him with for the past five minutes. The winnowing strain of the shadowy stocking, and the rapid flexing of that expansive luscious sole, forced Carl’s body to hump with the efficiency of a marionette puppet, whether he liked it or not, though the part that really made his cheeks burn red was that a part of him liked this very, very much.

When Carl spurted into Larissa’s creamy sole-divot, it was with an involuntary cry, having not only released his animal horniness but also pent-up need due to the dry spell he and his wife were experiencing. It had been quite a while since a woman actually touched him like this. As if his little squeal wasn’t enough, he trailed off with an almost-musical moan that he had no control over. Timing her final stroke like a maestro, Larissa anticipated his climax and clenched her sole and stocking to their tightest apex. She grasped his tiny cock firmly in her stippled pink arch-wrinkles, and then only gradually released her hold, until she’d pumped every sound from his lips and every drop of liquid from his micro-erection. All of this was accomplished without taking her eyes off her phone.

As the nylon was steadily loosened, Carl gained enough control to roll into a fetal ball against Larissa’s sole, wishing to become invisible or even disappear from this Earth. Not only had he just had to listen to his daughter and BFF’s matter-of-fact discussion about his paraphilia, but it had then been demonstrated as proof mere seconds later, right before Blair’s eyes. He wasn’t proud of his sexual deviance, and if he could change it he would, but there was no denying that his daughter had, objectively, extremely attractive feet. If there was any lingering doubt in Blair’s mind that her own father had perved on her feet before, it was gone now, and he’d put the final nail in the coffin himself. Worst of all, despite the painful stocking-wringing and forced shrinking and humping of a hot, sweaty sole wrinkle, this was still the most robust orgasm the man had received in years. His junk already ached for round two, while his brain wanted to self-implode.

“Wow,” Blair huffed, a bit squeamish but mostly fascinated with her friend’s skill and her father’s subservience to this new natural order.

“See, I told you,” Larissa shrugged. “So, do you want to give him a try, seeing how you’re going to be his new boss and all?”

“Really?” The possibilities rolled through her mind, colorful and inviting. A new family hierarchy was forming right now, and Blair was here to witness it with satisfaction. “Yes. Yes, I do. Give him here.”

“That’s the spirit,” Larissa chuckled. Setting her phone down, she leaned forward and snatched her stocking with a forefinger and thumb, tugging from the cottony stitching between her big and second toes. Then she plucked, working the fabric back down her foot after having worked so hard to stretch it to the limit, all for the sake of crucifying Carl to her sole. Like a faithful apprentice, Blair studied her friend’s every move, cataloguing it for possible later use. Pulling and rolling the dark fabric in concentric layers, the redhead at last removed her garment in a jumbled, stale ball. She stretched her newly nude foot about, enjoying freedom and fresh air upon her pale unblemished skin, and only once she was fully relaxed did she turn the rumpled stocking over and dump out the shrunken victim into his daughter’s titanic waiting hand.

“Hey, Dad,” Blair snickered. She lifted her cupped hand toward her face, getting the closest look yet at the diminished shell of a being that was once her pointless, overweight, selfish dad, but that had now been rightfully transformed into an organic trinket of endless amusement and payback. Tilting her hand to and fro, she amused herself watching Carl tumble around on the bowl of creased palm flesh like a Hungry Hippo marble.

Now lacking even the opaque netting of Larissa’s stocking to act as partial mask, there was no longer a buffer between the little man and his daughter’s curious, omnipotent sight. He felt as though his whole body was turning red as a cherry tomato, which it already was partially due to the physical exertion after fucking a sole the size of a yacht. Still, the burning shame he felt being observed from so close-up by Blair, naked in his own child’s palm, was far more vigorous than any dexterous orgasm the giant redhead could deliver with her peds.