Time-Out: Nancy's Way (Chapter 6) (Patreon)

Much to Scott’s huge mental relief but also guiltily pent-up libido, at no point during the impactful chaos of being walked upon inside Nancy’s dank gradually-moistening shoe for what felt like two-plus hours straight did his exposed manhood ever reawaken while in contact with her damp foot flesh, despite the earlier disappointment remaining as a physical weight in his gut after the giantess had so purposefully brought him to the edge, only to take that unwanted hope of release away. Not that he expected to get an ill-timed hard-on now, when her humongous though nimble toes were constantly flexing and bouncing on top of him like punching bags mid-gait, rather than coyly caressing with any kind of stimulating effect, but it was difficult not to feel concerned, after she’d managed to get a rise out of him with such ease before, only to squander it for her own apparent amusement.

Begrudgingly, Scott knew he also had to count his blessings that Nancy was able to wear him in her shoe for so long without inflicting any severe harm. Judy and Maggie were both pros at performing this unnatural activity in a tough-but-livable manner by now, but on those occasions when their inexperienced friends were allowed the chance to drop the shrunken inmate underfoot and pin him to their grimy insoles beneath happily waggling toes for a walkabout, there was often a crushing learning curve that even Scott, with all his unfortunate practice at being entrapped in the shoes of trampling giants, struggled to endure. And though this was very far from Nancy’s first occasion having him stuck in her shoe, it was definitely the longest time she’d ever worn him inside on-the-go without pausing to remove him or at least take away some of the heaving burden by sitting down, yet she hadn’t imposed any real bruises or near-suffocation scares on the little guy this whole time. Once again, for better or for worse, the woman knew exactly what she was doing when it came to handling Scott.

Not that it was any picnic in here, either. The shadowy confines were steamily overheated and flagrantly aromatic of perfumy salted leather from the instant Nancy put her steep-backed mule back on, which meant that the indecent conditions were only amplified the longer she kept him cooped within. The temperature in her shoe predictably climbed as hundreds of steps upon Scott became thousands, making the space swelter in the way of a locked car on a sunny July day. With that jump in heat also came an intensified strain of that original feminine-soled musk, with those heavy notes of insole perspiration and pheromonal spice gradually pushing down the more-inviting tastes of eucalyptus oil and flowery cologne. In time, Scott couldn’t help but wheeze and sputter in response while recalibrating his lungs to the advancing in-shoe stench of his mother’s best friend’s oppressive ped, though not quite heartily enough to satisfactorily refill his lungs either, as the woman’s toes were always just another step away from pouncing on his torso in readiness to launch forward yet again, which kept him from ever taking a deep breath of the muggy leather-soured atmosphere.

At the very least, however, Judy and Nancy seemed to share similar taste in footwear, albeit with the latter giantess preferring slinkier pairs of shoes that wouldn’t necessarily look out of place either in the board room or on a club dance floor, which meant that Scott wasn’t overwhelmed beyond belief by this particular long haul spent under his three-day caretaker’s foot, inside a shoe of similar climate and flavor to what he often received at home. Sick as it was to realize, he’d been trained for this by years of being the resident misbehaver of the Stevens family, and he could more-or-less handle a couple measly hours spent sweatily lodged in the stagnant dark under the foot of his sultry molester. What Scott wasn’t so certain he could handle was the yet-unknown of whatever else still awaited him in Nancy’s clutches, under her roof, and under her unsupervised control.

When at last his hostess stopped moving for what seemed like the first time in the whole multiple-hour stint she’d kept him pressed below her toes, and the mule was finally removed to scoop the shrinker back out, Scott was grateful to re-enter the light and coolness of the outside world. But he was also especially wary of the immediate future. He sincerely doubted Nancy’s earlier taunt about “earning his keep” was just a bluff, and he wasn’t looking forward to learning what that might entail. Upon getting his bearings in what he realized was her bedroom, Scott was lowered in the woman’s palm down to the top of her dresser, where he saw a pair of strappy mocha-hued sandals waiting alongside a white-bristled brush tool small enough for an inch-tall being to operate. Seconds later, he could hear Nancy doffing her mules far below, then stooping to collect both clompy black-soled vessels, which she deposited next to the sandals on this high-up ledge.

“Well, hon, I don’t think I need to explain to you, of all people, how to get a pair of shoes good and cleaned. Or even TWO of them!” Nancy cheekily declared with a broad smile, leaping right back into conversation as if she hadn’t just casually incarcerated the boy inside her shoe for more than two hours. “I know, at this size, you can’t exactly get the job done lickety-split, but there’s no rush, either. I’ve got some errands to run out and about, and believe me that I would take you with me in a heartbeat if I could, but the rules are the rules when it comes to your house arrest, so you’ll have to go without my presence for a little while. Think you can survive that? I know, I know, your heart is already breaking, just thinking about how lonely you’ll be without me, but never fear. When I get back, we’ll more than make up for this tragic time apart, and then we’ll both get to do some unwinding. Doesn’t that sound fabulous? Of course it does. I can just see it in your eyes. Now, not to rush you, dear, but there are two pairs of shoes here that I’m hoping you’ll get squeaky-clean for me before I get back, and in case you need reminding, you are very small right now, so you may need every second you can get. See you in a bit, sweetheart!”

With a final wink and a wave farewell, Nancy left Scott marooned atop her dresser with the sandals and mules in supposed need of his janitorial services, and a couple minutes later, he heard the door slam followed by her car’s engine revving. After taking five minutes to recuperate from that decidedly baking tour of duty spent softly squashed and rampaged upon inside the giantess’s shoe, the boy wearily shrugged, grabbed the brush, and got to work. Sadly, his hostess was correct that she didn’t really have to give him any instruction, considering how often Judy gave him similar chores, and more-than-likely told her friends all about it.

Still, Scott would’ve preferred if she’d simply dumped him out on the surface and left without a word; though she was plainly joking whenever she mockingly made remarks about him “surviving” the time away from her, in the way of separated lovers, it still made his skin crawl to think about actually yearning to be back in her presence. Really, she’d just left him with the best-case scenario here. It wasn’t exactly dignified work to shuffle over the musty footprinted insoles of gigantic women’s shoes, but Scott was used to it, and any activity which didn’t involve being directly mashed into the doughy ball of her spray-tanned foot was absolutely fine by him. Maybe, providing he did a good enough job, Nancy was counting this cleanup on her footwear as earning his keep. Which, all things considered, could’ve been so much worse.

So Scott metaphorically rolled up his sleeves, naked as he still was, and got to work. Indeed, both the sandals and mules benefitted from having the shrinker pick the bristles through every nook and cranny, removing bits of carpet fluff and trace dirt that would’ve been tracked in during their last wear. Though he could only reach so high on the interiors of either vessel, he did his best to cover everything in his reach, just hoping it would be enough. Both shoes bore the same branded scent of Nancy’s feet, like bittersweet saline and glazed ointment, with the mules especially holding onto their recently-worn pungency, but since air was still allowed to filter in, the process was made bearable for Scott. After more than an hour of this solitude had passed without his loudmouthed keeper returning, then a second hour, the one-incher was even finding himself in a slightly-better mood: far from cheerful, but actually letting himself believe these three days under the watch of his biggest middle-aged admirer might not be so hellish after all. Yes, he would certainly be subjected to more uncomfortable playtime under the woman’s toes before this thing was over, but if she planned to give him more embarrassing-yet-tolerable tasks like this one whenever she left the house, he could easily soldier through. Maybe, Scott wondered, he’d blown this time with Nancy out of proportion.