Careful What You Wish For (Chapter 22) (Patreon)

“Oops. We were having so much fun, I almost forgot,” Kayla chuckled, then fell back onto the sofa pillows. “You’ve still got most of the job left to do. You got my shoes off, and you get a D+ for effort there, but you know that’s only the beginning. I got the rubdown started, but I really am getting sick of doing all the work for you. So get up and start kneading some of the rough spots out for me. Believe me, if I have to do it myself AGAIN, you’re gonna like it even less than being dirty floor gum. But what should we make you into that feels the best for me? Oh… I’ve got just the thing.”

Cody was only able to drag himself two steps closer to the sideways-resting flanks of Kayla’s smutty workout-weary soles before her latest idea overtook his existence. For an instant he thought he was transforming back into soupy alkaline fluid dribbled from her toe cleavage, as human skin and innards were replaced by bizarrely blue-hued gel: just solid enough not to fall apart as he walked, but jiggly as whipped cream nonetheless. He wasn’t sweat after all. The flavor of his new body wasn’t so bad, chemical-based and minty-cold, but Cody quickly learned the downside of this latest change as he obediently placed both hands against Kayla’s arch with intent to massage, only to watch those gluey appendages – now made of IcyHot ointment – painfully melting straight off his arms due to her body heat and shimmering upon that doughy wall of underfoot brawn.

“Wow, typical. You work for two seconds and then turn into a lazy worthless dud again. Doesn’t it ever get old for you, shrimp, being nothing but a microscopic disappointment?” Kayla snapped, before Cody could even process that once again his remorphed body was about to messily disintegrate just by following her orders. “Better keep it going, now. Don’t you know it’s rude to start something you can’t finish? And, so help me God, if you make ME do the work for you again, this is gonna last a lot longer, go a lot slower, and hurt you a whole lot more. Which, personally, is just fine by me. Your call, freak.”

Swallowing hard and steeling himself for the unfathomable aches to come, Cody got ahold of his gelatinous azure-glop form and reached for Kayla’s sole again with his stumpier arms. He tried to caress the wrinkly slope slowly and gently, just in case the reduced friction prevented his body from continuing to melt away, but all he did was prolong the process. Maybe it was better, he realized, to just go for it and get this over with. More and more of Cody’s quivering jelly-flesh was scoured off his unnatural form, making him feel like he’d been forced to cram his limbs below an industrial sander and allow the inches to be painfully gnawed off one by one. Touching the pithy surface of Kayla’s foot wasn’t tortuous on its own, aside from that festering sweat-musk, but because it was impossible for him to even brush up against her sweltering sole flesh without another sliver of his frigid body slipping away like microwaved butter, the giantess’s entire body may as well have been as blazing-hot as the hood of a black car in summer. Yet he couldn’t stop, knowing that her last complaint was also a grave warning that any extra recesses in his massaging responsibilities wouldn’t be tolerated. And so Cody carried on with yet another task that might’ve been lustfully welcome otherwise, if not for the fact that he was soon forced to sacrifice his IcyHot arms down to raw nubs from so much vigorous fondling across the marshmallowy pleated curves of Kayla’s mammoth-spacious undersole. He only needed to get through it and then she could remake him.

As bad as all this was, though, they were only getting started. Without any arms left to offer for oily amputation, Cody had no choice but to start gliding his torso along the creasy mural of the giantess’s piping-warm arch crescent, polishing more of his sloppy anatomy onto her foot while his own body became thinner and more pain-wracked with every glossy sweep. What’s more, the IcyHot was beginning to live up to its namesake, which only further relaxed Kayla based upon her moans and croons from above. But Cody himself was assaulted through every unstable gel molecule of his lessening shape by the feeling that he was both caught naked in an arctic blizzard and shoved inside a gas-fired oven at the same time, and those extremes of simulated temperature only became more acute the longer he wiped his ever-softening chest, stomach, and eventually legs into the hungry altar of her filthy sole.

They’d gone for a while now without any complaints from Kayla, which Cody took as a sign that he was doing “well” (despite every synapse-fire telling him he was in the sensory pits of a frosted-over hell), but there came a point where too much of him had been lost to carry on with the job alone. He saw this coming, once he was just a head dutifully rolfing away his own shaky tear-dammed grimace against that same needy leviathan foot, but it still came as an uncomfortable surprise when Kayla became bored with this last-ditch effort, and finished the job herself by abruptly clapping his grape-sized IcyHot skull into a spurt of ointment which she then luxuriously slathered into her own skin between those twin soles, until Cody had no face left with which to wail.

“Oh, yeah, that hit the SPOT!” Kayla enthused with an almost-sexual groan, all to worsen Cody’s considerable grief as he was now painted in coagulated blue balm form across the meaty contours of either capsized sole. Afterward, she casually stroked one foot along the other, over and over, trading those slippery smudges that remained of her plaything’s body until he was nothing but a soothing gloss. “All right, we’re getting somewhere now. Hey, I know this must be kind of BORING for you, so I guess sorry-not-sorry for that. But we all have our little rituals that make us feel comfy. I just happen to love kicking off my shoes after a hard workout and giving my feet the pampering they deserve. So sue me. I’m only human, after all. Unlike the grimy horndog loser that I can turn into goo and melt away under my feet whenever I feel like it.”

Just as Kayla had joked, without a definite form left, Cody was nothing but another inhuman mass of electrically-charged consciousness, seeping into his owner’s actual sole pores the longer she massaged his glacial-burning material into herself. But then it only took another flash of her malevolent creativity to reproduce him into unbroken humanoid form on the floor in front of her drumming toes. Cody immediately fell over from dizzied fatigue after so many transfigurations, feeling like he was becoming permanently weaker with each successive shift she caused in him. Even face-down, he could tell she’d made him smaller this time – maybe only an inch tall – but at least hadn’t turned him into some other heinous form of her bodily secretions or healing salves.

Though it quickly became apparent that there was something “off” about Cody’s latest reincarnation after all, as his size-redoubled goddess reached down and pinched him up between the pads of her forefinger and thumb. Without a word or even a practice-push to test his flexibility, she proceeded to curl the shrinker backwards by force, bending his spine into a deep parabola, until she’d hooked Cody’s ankles over his own shoulders. This violent move, impressively, didn’t snap bones or fold organs together as it rightfully should have, but he still felt every ounce of pain that would’ve come with being contorted backwards into a human loop without any warmup, and only more so once he realized Kayla’s purpose. The juicy peach-sworled globe of her second toe was roughly inserted into the circular space formed by Cody’s donut-like permutation, then shoved through until the little thing was helplessly wound backwards around the fleshy shaft of that digit, and suddenly she was wearing him like a piece of gemless adornment on her foot. To Cody’s horror, even once her massive fingers released their hold on him, his limbs were too tangled and his spine too crooked in its new “C” shape for him to try and wriggle free, even if she didn’t scrunch her toes and catch his head in that vice of pruny webbed skin.