RR Vignettes #5 Samantha Beaurmont - Chapter 6 (Patreon)

RR Vignettes #5 - Samantha Beaurmont

Chapter 6 - Twenty Questions, Five Toes

[2010-03-06]

Brittany and Morgan sat with bated breath as their quiet, shy, nervous, and introverted and newest friend Samantha explained why she’d just been caught stuffing a potato chip down the back of her jeans and between her butt cheeks.

Samantha was terrible at lying.  She considered giving it her best shot here, but figured that any lie she could come up with on the spot might actually end up being more embarrassing than the actual truth.

Samantha told them everything.

She told them about Dr. Katie Walker and Dr. Alexandria Bexley.  She told them about how stupid she felt sending a picture of her butt in order to make sure her cheeks were big enough for the experiment.

“Do you still have the picture?” Brittany asked with a cheeky smile.  Samantha’s face turned crimson red.  “No…I deleted it right after.”

Samantha continued, telling Brittany and Morgan about getting flown out to RR Labs in North Carolina.  She told them about having to lower her jeans and underwear and have her cheeks shaked and jostled for what they called a “tactile inspection”. She told them about having to wedge a tiny little earplug type thingy between her glutes and do a bunch of silly things like walking on a treadmill and doing squats.

“Then what happened?” Popcorn overflowed from Brittany’s mouth, some spilling down the neckline of her shirt and into her cleavage but she was too enthralled with the story playing out to notice.  Morgan was far more skeptical, her arms crossed over her chest and listening silently.

“Well, they said I passed.”

“You mean your big butt passed?” Morgan said with a judgmental and unbelieving tone.

Samantha could only look into Morgan’s eyes for so long before reverting away, back toward the friendly and receptive face of Brittany. “Umm..they…well…they told me it would be just a few days until they found someone for me.”

“Then what?” Brittany asked.

“They called me back in once they found him.” Samantha said.  “They flew me out there and they..well..put him in my butt.”

“So there’s really a tiny little boy living in your butt?” Brittany asked, the dimples in her cheek popping from her ear-to-ear smile.  “Like, right now?”

Morgan rolled her eyes.  “No, you gullible doofus.  She’s obviously teasing you and it’s working. Her stiff black hair rocked gently as she turned to look at Samantha.  Brittany followed her roommate’s gaze, her jovial smile melting into an expression of pain and embarrassment. “She’s lying?!”

“Of course she is.” Morgan said, still looking at Samantha.  “I give you props, I guess.  Shrunken guys tucked away in butts…I dunno…gotta be the weirdest story I’ve ever heard so I can’t imagine the ‘real’ reason that you’re too embarrassed to tell us for stuffing potato chips up your ass. Is it a fetish?”

“I promise it’s true.” Samantha said, directing her sincerity toward Brittany who’s shell of skepticism was hardening slowly after Morgan’s words.  “I’ve had him for two weeks.”

Morgan crossed her arms over her chest.  “Yeah?  Prove it.”

“Yeah…” The bubbly blonde crossed her arms over her own expansive chest, mirroring her roommate in a way that would have been comical had the setting not been so tense.  “Prove it, Sammi.”

Samantha unbuttoned her skin-tight jeans, making room for her hand to scoot all the way down the back of the denim.  She fished around for a few moments, her eyes fixated on the coffee table where Morgan was now resting her sock-clad feet, ankles crossed.  Part of her was worried for a moment that she’d imagined the whole thing.  What if there never was a tiny little naked man in her bottom?  That she wasn’t getting paid to keep him wedged between her cheeks for hours every day?  Wasn’t it so much more likely that she just hallucinated the whole thing?  Who would actually pay her money to do this?

And that’s when she felt his faint, tiny hands pawing against her ring finger. Samantha adjusted her grip and gently pinched his naked body; it was the same temperature as her warm, humid crack.

He trembled in her fingers, but that was nothing new.  Samantha’s mom kept the house no warmer than the high 60’s and nothing quite diminishes your tolerance for cold like living in a big, warm butt.

What was new, however, was the look of confusion on the tiny little subject’s face as he took in his vast, intimidating surroundings.  It must have been jarring, having grown so accustomed to Samantha’s typical routine as he had.  He’d spend most of his day tucked away in her bottom and when she’d finally remove him, it would always be from the privacy of her bedroom with her door locked tight.  When his eyes finally locked with the two strangers, Brittany gasped.  Even Morgan, a girl who seemed to take pride in bottling emotions and maintaining as flat and icy demeanor as possible, stared with her mouth agape.

“He…is…ADORABLE!” The pitch of Brittany’s voice could have rivaled the unbridled delight of a songbird. She was practically supersonic as she clutched her chest to steady her throbbing heart.  She popped up from the couch like a blonde, big-breasted jack-in-the-box and leaned over the coffee table to get a closer look at the wide-eyed miniature man in Samantha’s grasp.  The poor little subject, already so overwhelmed by all this attention, trembled in Samantha’s hands but gawked cutely at Brittany’s chest as she leaned forward to get a better look at him.

“Look at those tiny little hands grabbing onto your finger, Sammi! And his itty bitty pec muscles!  He’s seriously so cute I literally can’t even stand it.” Brittany gushed, her hands fluttering around her face like excited butterflies.  The bubbly blonde’s brain was overheating from all the cuteness and Sammi’s subject’s eyes were bugging out from the astounding, rippling waves of Brittany’s breasts, threatening to jump out of her tight-fitting shirt at any moment.  He looked so confused, as if part of him wanted to shy away from her and the other part wanted to jump down that shirt…of course the former part was winning hands down.

“Sammi, I’ve got about a billion and a half questions.” Brittany said, unable to pull her curious gaze from the subject.

Samantha started to move her little subject back around her waist and Brittany responded as if every Christmas for the next 50 years was canceled.  “You’re putting him away?!”

“I think he’s nervous.” Samantha said.

“Oh, he doesn’t have to be nervous!” Brittany’s intensity was having the opposite effect that she intended.  “Can I hold him, Sammi?  Please?”

Samantha’s knee-jerk response was to say no.  She’d had no problem telling her mother no…she could tell Brittany no as well, right?  The little boy already had his hands quite full with one massive girl..it wouldn’t be right to pass him around like a toy, right?  She looked from Brittany’s pleading face to Morgan’s.  Samantha wondered if anyone in their entire lives had ever had this much of Morgan’s attention, and she couldn’t decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

Her arms were still crossed, feet still on the coffee table. Morgan stared wordlessly at Samantha, waiting to see what she’d say.  Was Morgan testing her?  Was this a case of ‘girls share their toys and if you don’t, you’re a bitch’? The last thing Samantha wanted was for Brittany and Morgan to think she was greedy and stingy.  And if that meant letting Brittany hold him…that wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

“Ugh.” Morgan’s upper lip curled in disgust as Brittany accepted the tiny little subject into her cupped, shaking hands.  “He was in her ass, you weirdo.”

“I don’t care! I can wash him off like I did with Mr. Scribblypants!  Do you want me to, Sammi?”

“Who’s Mr. Scribblypants?” Samantha asked.

Morgan rolled her eyes, “Her hamster.”

A gust of disagreeable air rushed out from between Brittany’s lips. “He wasn’t a hamster, he was a gerbil.” Her response was directed toward Morgan, her warm breath to the subject in her hands. “And as precious as he was, he wasn’t anything like this little cutie, no he wasn’t!” Brittany had that look in her eyes that Samantha saw children get when petting adorable animals…that look when you feel so overwhelmed by the cuteness that you just don’t know how to handle it constructively. Through gritted teeth, Brittany confessed, “I just wanna squish you with love, yes I do!”

Samantha cleared her throat, prompting Brittany to quickly add, “...but I won’t!

“Can he squish?”Sammi, no offense but I think he’d like to get a little bath.  Can I go wash him super fast, please?”

Samantha didn’t know what to say.  The plan wasn’t to keep him out any longer than to make a brief introduction to show she wasn’t crazy for putting food in her butt.  The tiny subject had served that purpose, and now he was begging her with his eyes to take him back from Brittany who was seemingly only restraining herself from squeezing him against her chest due to the aroma surrounding his naked body.  But Samantha waited too long, or her body language said ‘yes’ to Brittany because she jumped up, bouncing like a frenetic bunny rabbit to the bathroom.  “I’ll plug the drain, don’t worry!”

Once again, Samantha and Morgan were alone..and so much had happened since the last time.  Morgan broke the brief silence. “So you really are keeping a shrunken man in your butt.  And they’re paying you, right?”

“Right.” Samantha uttered. Morgan’s pretty, piercing eyes were scanning her entire body.  “Any more little men hiding out somewhere else?  Girls have a lot of hiding places.”

Samantha blushed. “No, just him.”

“That’s pretty cool, I guess.” Using her left foot, Morgan gently pushed one of the three glasses filled with a Malibu mixed drink toward Samantha.

Samantha knew that she was about to take a big risk in turning down alcohol, especially since this was the first gesture of out-of-the-way kindness that Morgan had displayed toward Samantha. She raised a hand, hoping that it would not offend Morgan.  “That’s so nice but I’m okay.  I promised my mom I wouldn’t drink at the party. I’m really sorry.” Samantha’s tone was laced with somberment that would give a eulogist a run for their money.

“Uhh..you don’t have to be ‘really sorry’.” Morgan tilted her head at Samantha’s response. “But you’re not at the party anymore, right?”

Samantha opened her mouth but no words came out.  “Oh…uhh…I hadn’t thought of it…like…”

You don’t gotta drink if you don’t want to, Sammi.” Brittany’s sweet voice carried from around the corner from the open door of the bathroom, over the sound of running water.  “We’ll still have plenty of fun tonight either way!” In a lower, much sweeter, and almost condescending tone, Samantha heard Brittany telling ‘the little sweetheart’ under the faucet to stop squirming so much.

Samantha smiled.  She took a deep breath, feeling weight coming off her shoulders. “Well…I think Morgan makes a good point.  It wouldn’t be breaking a promise to my mom.”

“Yeah, I make lots of good points.” Morgan said as she took a long sip of her drink. Samantha raised the beverage to her lips.  It smelled fruity and delicious, like something she would order at a restaurant with her mother if there were no alcohol in it.

Morgan’s lips curled ever-so-slightly as Samantha’s face wrinkled up.  The fruit encased the bite of the alcohol against her tongue and palette.  The moment it touched her tongue, she wanted to spit it out, but by the time she sent it down her throat, Samantha enjoyed the tingly sensation.  She took another sip.

“So, you said the lab in North Carolina shrunk him and now he’s living in your butt.” Morgan said, raising her eyebrows at the absurdity of the sentence she’d uttered.  “But what you didn’t tell us yet…why?”

“Yeah, why?” Brittany echoed from the bathroom.

Samantha didn’t even know how to interpret the question.  That ‘why’ was such a big ‘why’ that could be answered in so many ways, and she just didn’t feel equipped to handle any of them.  “I’m not 100% sure.  They only told me that they want to understand how he adapts to living between my cheeks.”

“How long is the experiment?”

“I don’t think it has an end date,” Samantha said. “They told me that the longer I participate the better.”

“So you could keep him in your butt for a month if you wanted?” Morgan asked.

“Oh, yes. Definitely.  There are subjects that have been living in the same woman’s butt for years.”

“Years?” Morgan wore an expression of genuine shock.  “And they get paid the whole time?”

“I’m pretty sure, yeah.” Samantha said.

“Whoa…well, if my dad ever stops giving me money I know where I’m going to get it.”

“Do you think your butt’s big enough, Morgey?” Brittany asked from the bathroom.

“It doesn’t have its own zip code like yours.” Morgan snapped back but Brittany just giggled, letting the jab roll off her like water off a duck’s feathers.  Samantha’s self-esteem, however, took a big hit with that jab at Brittany.  One of the first things Samantha had established at the very beginning of their friendship was that Brittany’s bottom was big but still slightly smaller than her own. A jab at Brittany’s big butt was a jab at Samantha’s even bigger butt.

“But who cares; any butt is a big butt to someone as small as him, right?”

‘Oh no, please don’t shoot the messenger.’ Samantha cringed. She could have just lied, right?  And said that they take anyone. But if you lie too much, bad things happen, right?

“Right?” Morgan repeated, her tone showing annoyance.

“Umm…well, they do have requirements.” Samantha twiddled her fingers. “That was the test thing I’d told you about earlier. They said that since the boys are so little and helpless, they need to live between butt cheeks that are big enough and soft enough to protect them.” Samantha quickly fumbled through her wallet, setting a thick rectangle of white cardstock on the coffee table.  “This is Dr. Bexley’s business card.  You can give her a call if you want; I’m sure that you could participate if you want to.”

“Whatever.” Morgan waived a bitter and dismissive hand, not even glancing at the business card next to her glass of alcohol. “I don’t want something wiggling around in my ass anyway, thank you very much.”

She then leaned forward, projecting her voice toward the bathroom.  “And at least I can wear underwear without getting wedgies 24-7.”

Samantha sighed as Brittany rounded the corner, not only revealing that the subject was okay but more importantly, she didn’t have to be sitting here with Morgan by herself anymore.  The pretty blonde was infatuated with the little boy, even more so now that he was clean.  “We got your mommy’s smell all off you and now it's time to play!”

“Did you unplug the drain after you finished?”

Brittany’s upper body started to turn but she abruptly stopped.

“Oh, I forgot to plug it in the first place.” Brittany laughed. “Sorry, Sammi.  I had a tight grip on him the whole time…but now it makes sense why he was so wiggly and was holding onto me so tight!”

Brittany plopped back down on the sofa next to Samantha.  Samantha expected Brittany to return the cleaned subject but the blonde had hearts in her eyes as she held him firmly in her lap, stroking him as if he were a pet.  “So what’s he eat?  Besides potato chips from your butt?”

Samantha took another long sip of her Malibu mixed drink. What an insane question.  But it was only because of how insane the situation was.  “Umm…usually just scraps from my food.  He likes meatloaf and carrots.”

Brittany’s eyes widened, the hand holding the little subject rushing to her bulging chest. “Me, too!  Maybe I can try cooking one day and make some for him.”

Morgan sneered; apparently the thought of Brittany cooking was amusing to her.

“Maybe we could try that,” Samantha replied politely.  “Dr. Bexley was really recommending that he go on this vitamin regimen thing that they have.”

“He’s gonna take vitamins instead of eat food?” Brittany asked.

“I think so.  Dr. Bexley is going to call me next week to go over all the details but she summed it up by saying that the vitamins will make it so that he has more freedom and autonomy and doesn’t have to rely on me remembering to feed him.”

“That makes sense.  I hope those pills are teeny-weeny though!” Brittany said in baby-talk down to the subject resting on her thighs.  “How did they shrink him?”

“Oh, I don’t have any idea at all. They didn’t tell me that.”

“Hmmm…you know what I think?” Brittany’s cute nose wrinkled up as she squinted; if the girl pondered any harder, smoke would have come out of her ears. “I think it has to deal with subatomic resonance and extrapolation.” She bounced up off the cushion and quickly snuck her sock-clad feet in under her thick thighs, sitting indian style on the cushion.

Samantha tilted her head.  Did she just make all those words up?  Morgan rolled her eyes, her tone flat and unimpressed. “No one knows what that is but you.”

“Nu-uh! Lots of people know about it!” Brittany blurted like an exasperated child.  “It’s the idea of eliminating all that extra space between atoms. Apparently that part, squishing all those atoms together and reducing the size, that's super easy to do, but the major hard part is dealing with the fact that the weight stays the same since you’re not losing any atoms…and if you cut away too many atoms the thing you’re trying to shrink turns to goo.”

“She watches a lot of YouTube videos.” Morgan explained to Samantha whose jaw was practically on the floor. She’d never known a girl that looked this pretty and knew so much about science things.

“Hush, Morgey.  Anyway, I read about this 13-year old girl that found a way to compress atoms for a school project without turning the thing to goo; isn’t that super wild? The article was really crappy at explaining how she did it but my theory is that she somehow, you know, sliced atoms in a way that matched their squishiness and then, like, decoded atomic thingies from the leftovers.  But how exactly she would have done that, I have no idea!”

As Brittany spoke, Samantha felt silly constructs about the expectations of women melting in her mind, and it felt so wonderful.  Someone as bubbly and pretty and confident as Brittany could also be this smart?  Maybe Samantha had hidden powers too…just waiting to be discovered.  “Wow..I didn’t know you were so interested in science stuff, Brittany.”.

“Yup! I wanna be a geneticist or a nanobiologist when I grow up.”

“You’re already grown up, Brittany.” Morgan said, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Well, good thing I’m gonna go to school in the fall!” Brittany piped back with a big grin.

The subject momentarily slipped into the triangle between her thighs but she quickly retrieved him, setting him back atop her lap and holding him more firmly in place. “I could never find anything about that brainy girl from the article.  And it was an ooooold article, too–from the 90’s, I think.  Crazy to think that little girl was so smart.  She’d be in her late 20’s or early 30’s today.  I wonder what she’s doing now.”

Samantha’s brow wrinkled. “Wow, I wonder if that was Dr. Walker or Dr. Bexley.”

Brittany’s eyes widened as she sipped the last of her Malibu mixed drink.  “That would be so cool!”

As the three girls continued their discussion about RR Labs, the rear-housing experiment, and Samantha’s little subject, the first bottle of Malibu was getting dangerously low.  Samantha could taste the residue of alcohol on her tongue and its warmth in her belly. She continued to sip, answering Brittany’s and Morgan’s questions about the subject with a growing confidence that increased with her cup-count.

“Do you think he could get a girl pregnant?” Brittany asked, raising the naked man up to her eyeline and taking a sip of her fourth Malibu mix.

“Wow…I didn’t know a girl’s face could get that red.” Morgan teased.

Samantha’s reply was fast, rushed, and probably unconvincing.  “I…I don’t think I’ve ever thought about that before.  They didn’t tell me anything about that…and I didn’t think to ask.”

“I’ll bet he could. He’s a cutie too. I’m sure you’ve taken a peek or two, Sammi! Don’t lie and say you didn’t!” Brittany grinned, nuzzling the subject, giggling at the flurry of movement against the tip of her nose..  “I’ll bet he’s broken plenty of hearts in his day.”

“Are you volunteering to be another notch in his belt?” Morgan asked.

“First off: he’s naked, Morgey.  No belts.” Brittany said.  “Second off, I don’t want to get pregnant.  I just want to know if he could do it!”

“This is what she does.  She obsesses.” Morgan rolled her eyes.  Samantha wondered if she ever worried about them getting stuck.

“Not obsessed, just curious!  I’ll bet his little sperms work the same and could get into the egg just fine…but they’d probably have a lot longer to go.  You think, Sammi? The lucky lady would probably want to get him as close to the egg as possible if ya know what I mean.”

With a face of crimson red, Samantha shrugged her slumped shoulders and the room fell silent.  Samantha closed her eyes, grateful that the conversation on reproduction was finally–

“--what do you think would happen if he was even smaller than this?” Brittany asked, dangling the wide-eyed, terrified subject in front of Samantha and Morgan, rubbing her chin with her free hand.  Samantha couldn’t tell if he was more horrified by Brittany’s actions or her line of thought. “Like, what if he was actually the size of a sperm?  I wonder what would happen if he got put inside of an egg.”

“He’d need scuba gear.” Morgan replied.

Upon hearing Morgan’s joke, Brittany couldn’t control her laughter, resulting in a large mouthful of Malibu exploding in a gushing mist all over the naked subject.  “Oh, shoot! Sorry, sorry, sorry!” Brittany quickly plunged the subject down to her fully exposed stomach.  She had lifted her shirt in order to stuff him underneath. Samantha watched the outline of her tiny boy poking through the soft cotton of Brittany’s shirt, dried off as if he were a pair of glasses. There was a genuine, adorable concern on Brittany’s face as she dried him, his outline up toward her breasts and occasionally disappearing between them. “And I just literally gave him a bath.  Shoot….is he allowed to drink alcohol, Sammi?”

Samantha felt a bubble of a chuckle pass her throat but then dwindle before reaching her lips as she shook her shoulders in uncertainty.  Morgan was the first to start laughing and then the other immediately joined in until tears were flowing.

“Oooo! Morgan!” Brittany managed to say as the laughter died down. “Are we tipsy enough to play Truth or Dare yet?”

Morgan sighed, “Ugh…I don’t know.” She looked at Samantha.  “What do you think, Samantha?  Do you want to?”

‘Was she really asking me?!  She wants to know what I want to do?!’

Samantha felt excitement and self-worth bubbling up inside of her much like the fizzy Malibu mixes she’d been drinking.

“Umm…I’ve never played before so I don’t really know the rules.”

“You’ve never played Truth or Dare!?” Brittany asked in disbelief.

“Wow, are you Amish?” Morgan asked.  “Actually, nevermind–I knew an Amish girl once and even she played Truth or Dare before.  I think this means we need to play.” Morgan said.

“Super!” Brittany pumped the air with the same fist holding Samantha’s subject. She quickly set him down on her lap, so quickly that he slid off her thigh and fell onto the cushion next to her, nearly plunging between them.  Brittany raised both of her hands to the top of her head, as if she was placing an invisible crown atop her golden locks.

“Princesses go first!”

Samantha looked in confusion from Brittany to Morgan.  The tipsy blonde had spoken so fast, Samantha wondered if she misheard her. “What was that?”

Morgan scoffed as Brittany explained to Samantha “You have to be the first to put your princess crown on and say ‘princesses go first’. You didn’t do that with your sisters when you were little?  To decide who got to go first for things?”

“No, Brittany…” Morgan answered for Samantha. “...for the last time, no one on planet earth has ever done that except for you.  And you don’t have any sisters.”

Brittany’s expression darkened and her adorable face became sour. “Don’t be mean, Morgan.” The tone change was jarring to say the least; Brittany’s voice usually exploded from her mouth but now it seeped from her lips.

Morgan seemed to pick up on this, her expression proportionately softening.  “Oh, come on.  You know what I meant Brittany.  I just meant they’re your cousins.”

Brittany nodded solemnly.  “I know.”

The room became so awkward Samantha thought she might explode.  She almost jumped up and sprinted out of the uncomfortable situation, but luckily Morgan diffused it, having known Brittany enough to fix it.  She tossed a pillow at the blonde’s head.  “We’re playing your game, Princess.  Now take your turn.”

Brittany looked at Morgan with a mischievous grin and fluttered her fingers together like a mad scientist, causing Morgan to raise her eyebrows and a single finger. “I’m gonna warn you right now though…before you pick someone. If you pick me…and you dare me to massage your feet again, I’m seriously getting up and going right to bed.”

Brittany deflated in her seat as if she were a balloon that had been untied.  “Oh, come on!  You didn’t even finish the full minute last time!  What’s a girl gotta do to get a foot rub every now and then?”

“I don't know what to tell you.” Morgan chuckled with very little sympathy for Brittany’s exaggerated plight, gesturing toward Samantha’s subject. “You’ve got a better chance of Pipsqueak over there rubbing your feet than me.”

Brittany gasped.  “Oh, my god.”  She looked down at the subject who, at no point this evening looked particularly happy to be on Brittany’s lap, was now looking even less excited.  “He’s technically playing with us, right?  Right?”

Brittany didn’t consult the subject resting in her lap.  Instead, she looked right to the girl responsible for him.

“Oh, Sammi.  Can I dare him to do it?  Can I dare him to rub my feet? Pretty please?  It would be so cute!”

Samantha looked down at the subject still posessively anchored in Brittany’s lap.  It didn’t seem right–he was assigned to live between Samantha’s butt cheeks..that’s what they were getting paid for.  Not to be a foot massager.  But on the other hand, how could Samantha say no to Brittany?  The thought of seeing her expression sour and her smile disappear was devastating.  Their friendship was still so new…and Samantha feared that it couldn’t sustain such a blow.  She wanted to impress her new friends.  Was that really so bad?  Wasn’t a harmless little foot massage worth that?

“Oh, oh!” Brittany blurted, quickly yanking off one of her brightly colored ankle socks.  “Look see!  They don’t even smell bad!”  Brittany raised the sock to her own face and breathed in.  “I take really good care of my feet.  They smell like coconuts! Honestly, he’ll probably even like it!”

It was partly the alcohol in control, but Samantha giggled, holding up a hand and gently resisting the sock that Brittany was trying to thrust upon Samantha’s face.  “It’s okay, Brittany.  I’ll…take your word for it.”  Samantha looked at the subject and then back at Brittany.  Both were pleading for opposite things…and only one could get their way. One would have to lose for the other to win.

“You can dare him to do it.”

It felt wrong coming out of Samantha’s mouth, and seeing the poor boy sink into Brittany’s lap was difficult, but all of that was immediately erased by how excited Brittany was.

“Okay, little sweety…” Brittany set the subject down on the coffee table.  He was surrounded by glasses of Malibu mix and immediately behind him was Morgan’s sock-clad feet, still propped up on the table.  Samantha thought Morgan might have moved her feet once he was set on the table but they remained planted right where they were.

“...I dare you…” Another pair of feet joined the table.

“...to massage my feet…”

Brittany’s feet.

The poor little thing stumbled down to the ground from the force of Brittany’s heels striking the table.

“...until I say stop!”

Despite her usual indifference toward feet, Samantha couldn't help but appreciate the symmetry and uncanny pleasantness of Brittany's dainty extremities. Samantha observed Brittany’s single, bare foot. Impeccably maintained and adorned, it matched the rest of her in that it appeared well taken care of and very pretty, serving as yet another testament to her meticulous care and attention to detail. Each toe, elegantly painted with a glossy light pink hue, looked as soft and plush as a luxurious peach pillow.

The toes, aligned in perfect harmony, created a graceful arc that extended smoothly from the prominent big toe down to the delicate pinky toe. The arch, a sculpted masterpiece, showcased the inherent elegance of Brittany's foot anatomy. Despite their diminutive size, her toes possessed a spherical charm. They were just slightly shorter than the subject staring up at them, yet they towered over him, wiggling playfully atop the milky white tower that was her soft, wrinkled bare sole.

Samantha spotted not a single imperfection—no calluses, no peeling skin—just a flawless canvas of velvety smoothness among the milky white contours of Brittany’s arches.

He looked with pleading eyes toward Samantha.

Samantha felt a tinge of sympathy for the little man, but what was a little foot massage considering the friendship and status she stood to gain?  His resolve deflated as Samantha mouthed the word ‘sorry’.

That was a message just for him.

The next message was for everyone in the room.

“A dare’s a dare.” The fizz of the Malibu mix tickled Samantha’s nose as she sipped from a fresh 3rd glass.  Something about this whole situation was appealing to Samantha in a way that she hadn’t considered before.  He looked…so cute down there with Brittany’s big, imposing peds in front of him and Morgan’s behind him.  She had half a mind to prop her own feet up and join in on the surround.  All in good time.  They had the whole night ahead of them for her to address these blossoming curiosities…and Samantha was definitely sleeping over.

“You have to do it.” Samantha instructed. “Massage Brittany’s feet.”

~