Careful What You Wish For (Chapter 2) (Patreon)

“Seriously, I’m just dying to know what made you wake up this morning and think you have the right to act like anything more than what you are. Which is a miserable, disgusting, pathetic, teeny-tiny foot slave, who’s worth less than the grime you get to scrape out from between my toes,” Kayla venomously drawled. Meanwhile, she began to twist her foot back and forth atop her miniscule attendant, grinding Cody against the thick not-so-pillowy center of her arch while scrunching her toes and tightening the musculature lurking beneath that moist brine-sodden terrain of her undersole skin. Whatever meager oxygen he had left was quickly squeezed out, leaving the spread-eagle six-incher to powerlessly writhe and whimper with swiftly-increasing discomfort below the near-crushing mass. And that was even before considering the sauna-steamy atmosphere or the putrid sloppiness of the sweat-and-toejam stew smeared across every curve and crease of Kayla’s foot. How was it possible he’d ever wanted this to happen, let alone spent one of three genie wishes to get it? “I know you can’t answer me yet, since it’s so easy to dominate you and turn you into a wormy squirmy crybaby with just one step, but you’d better be thinking hard about your answer, because I expect it to be good. First you’re not even bowing when I walk in the room, then you look me in the eye, and finally when I call you out, you’re not even smart enough to apologize for insulting me by coming to my toes right away and licking away some of this gunk from my workout. You just… sat there. Like you’re somebody. And, I can’t believe I actually have to say this out loud AGAIN, but apparently I do: you’re not a somebody, Cody. You’re a some-thing, and barely that. So start acting like it, or I’ll just replace you.”

Almost immediately fatigued, sore, and half-soaked in Kayla’s vinegary underfoot perfume, Cody again had to defeatedly acknowledge he was only getting precisely what he’d wished for. While a subconscious part of him did guiltily enjoy what was happening, that sexually adventurous spirit was far outmatched now by the weightily compacting burden of her gigantic foot, and the obscenely overpowering funk-factor from so much liquid pore grit and jellied sock lint. Cody officially knew now – possibly too late to back out – that he enjoyed this dirty concept much more when kept in his imagination, aided by a milder strain of shoe stink and the worship of his kinder-hearted girlfriend’s own feet, and definitely not when it was all a tangible lethal treacherously-repulsive living nightmare. On top of all that, even if not for the suffocation and pain and unappetizing whiff of cheesy-toed ripeness, the shrinker found he was deathly unnerved by Kayla’s presence above him more than anything else. She was too good at being a giantess. Especially when he’d asked for the cruelest one possible from the genie to subjugate him. Maybe his best opportunity out of this dilemma was to agree with her and ask that she replace him as her foot slave, Cody blearily wondered, before realizing that being “replaced” would probably not mean returning to liberty and human height, but more likely a trip down the garbage disposal.

“Well? What’ve you got to say for yourself?” Kayla demanded, at once removing all the pressure of her earthward-pivoting sole from Cody and slamming it so hard to the floor beside him that it made his ears ring. Even when she ceased curb-stomping him so smoothly, however, the little guy was still momentarily adhered to her skin thanks to the slimily heated force from her foot, and so he had to come unpeeled a few inches off the ground, landing on his head with a tender groan. “I’m WAITING!”

Though dizzy and out of breath, Cody inhaled to gather his composure, then unsteadily bowed and kept his eyeline upon her feet. Only then did he shamefully reply: “I’m… really sorry, Kayla. I promise I won’t-”

 “WHAT did you just CALL me?” the giantess roared, as her foot slave had evidently broken another crucial rule of his subhuman service. And that was strike four. She stamped her sole again, then without hesitation, brought it down above Cody a second time. For this occasion, there was no palpable control as she shifted more and more of her titanic body weight into him. Kayla simply stood on her six-inch plaything, concentrating her heel directly over his face while the rest of him languished below her arch. There wasn’t even enough of a margin in that demolishing downward-focused violence for the little thing to thrash or squeak for mercy. Under at least tenfold as much duress from her heel, the shrinker felt himself burst into roadkill by the almost-idle stress of holding up his ruthless owner’s foot. That’s how easy it was for her. Though as much of a horrific surprise as it was for Cody to find himself executed for accidentally calling his foot-mistress by her real name, it was nothing compared to the shock he felt at abruptly reawakening seconds later, with his body healed and intact again, right beside where she’d just ended his life.

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With every passing minute in the throes of what should have been his ultimate fantasy, Cody regretted ever having come across that damn genie. He now would’ve happily given back his million-dollar first wish, too, and even paid an additional price on top of that, if only it would spare him from the ongoing consequences of calling his omnipotent reality-warped goddess Kayla by her real name, instead of something that better glorified her utter supremacy over him. Because squashing him to dead-meat pulp below her sole then snapping him right back to life with the ease of breathing was apparently only the beginning of his punishment. Or else, his hourly habit with the merciless and ultra-powerful Kayla of this new reality where he’d always been her all-purpose slave consisted of never-ending torments, no matter how well-behaved he was, and Cody wasn’t sure which option was worse.

“God, this day is going to be annoying. So much work to get done, and everybody just expects me to do EVERYTHING myself. Good thing I have a worthless little foot-freak maggot of a slave to at least take care of the easy stuff for me,” Kayla balked, rolling her eyes as she stood over the bathroom sink. The giantess was freshly showered and dressed for the day, which might’ve meant Cody would at least be safe from the squalid odor and fluidic grime-factor if she chose to trample him into underfoot pieces again, but the shrunken slave felt only tension as he stood on the countertop, just hoping she’d forget he existed, while furiously wracking his brain for a loophole wish that might rescue him from this disaster. He watched Kayla squeeze paste onto the bristles of her toothbrush and raise it toward her chin, which gave him the false sense of security that he could rest until after her morning freshen-up, and then his body vanished.

An instant before the end of that pink brush penetrated the humid darkness of her wide-open mouth, Cody found his consciousness transferred hyper-sensitively inside its rigid plastic bounds, with his miniscule face sunken below the paste-globbed bristles. At a loss for words in his creepily hybridized toothbrush-body, the little thing could only yelp in shock as Kayla drove his terrified little expression directly into a grinding mash of bent fibers, sudsy mint glop, and her rock-hard pearly whites. It felt like how he’d always imagined it would feel to get his face shoved into a thwacking high-velocity embrace with a motorized car wash spinner. Back and forth she dragged the brush head, bumpily scraping Cody’s face and those sawing white whiskers alike across the enamel of her wide smile.

“Make sure you really get in there, creep,” Kayla ordered, her voice soapily muffled by the brush handle between her lips, as if Cody had any control over his performance here. “You missed a spot last time. Nasty. So if I find stuff stuck in there still after, I’m picking it out and you’re eating it. Not kidding. Do better.”