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The Widow - Finale
🕑 Added 2020-07-21 14:57:22 +0000 UTCThe real problem was my inability to pass out. This woman’s foot sweat and foot smell took over me and drugged me to complete submission. My ability to protest literally surrendered. I breathed in her foot sweat, through the nylon mesh on my face, like if it was something I actually needed, without moving, without struggling. She had, in some way, established her dominance over me, and there was no way I would get out of this predicament without any traumatism. I knew this was the most important moment of my life, a already knew it would change me forever. But things got worse when, approximately 30 minutes later, she removed her foot from the shoe and tilted the shoe on its side, on the floor, with me rolling and tumbling out of it on the wooden floor of what seemed to be a well furnished living room.
“Francis!” said my sister’s voice above me. I got up on my hands and knees and saw my younger sister Clara, right there, a giantess looking down on me. She was standing next to me, I could see her dirty white and pink adidas superstars next to me, they were so big. I looked up and swore a few times. I had specifically told her not to come and get me! I had told her to run back home! She didn’t listen!
“So this is your brother?” The widow asked, putting her shoe back on behind me. Both were looking down at the floor, at me, naked. I covered my mid section with me hands, humiliated.
“Yes. What have you done to him?” asked Clara, troubled, visibly frightened, her voice trembling.
“I shrunk him.” Said the widow to my sister.
“Why? And What was he doing in your shoe?” Asked Clara.
“You two were spying on me and I am giving your brother a punishment.” The woman said.
“Clara! Run home! Run!” I screamed, but she didn’t hear me.
“I will need to punish you too, my sweet little girl.” Said the widow, she had that devilish look on her face again. “I will let you both go away if you do what I say, Clara.” She added.
“No! Clara! Don’t Listen to her! Run back home!” I screamed, but my gullible little sister just nodded, scared to the bones and visibly trying to do the right thing to save me, but she was putting us both in even more trouble now. And nobody will ever know, and she should have run back home, what a stupid girl! I hated my sister so much at that specific moment in time. She looked down at me, I tried to scream to her but she was just completely submitted to the widow’s will and she completely surrendered as well.
“I want you to remove your right shoe and put your brother inside it, so her can smell your foot for a while.”
“WHAT!” I screamed. “NOOOOOO!”
“In my shoe?” said my sister.
“Yes, my dear, go ahead and do what I say if you want everything to be alright.” Said the dominating woman.
“Clara, don’t! Don’t you dare do this to me, I swear!” I tried. But it was not going to save me, Clara was almost entranced, completely under the widow’s charms and listening to her, doing what she ask. I saw her use the her left shoe tip to remove her heel from her right shoe and pull her pink socked foot out. “CLARA!!!!!!” I screamed.
“I am sorry Francis.” She said. “Everything is going to be alright okay?” she said looking down at me and crouching. “Just smell my foot for a while.” She said. She was entranced, like if she had been hypnotized by that evil witch. She stared at me and brought her hand forward, grabbing my little body with the thumb and forefinger. She wasn’t that delicate, she brought me to her shoe, and I immediately gagged from the smell coming from under. She dangled me above the opening of the shoe, all the inside blacked by a year of use almost every single day. They were my sister’s favorite sneakers, she wore them all the time, and it had sweat encrusted dust that blacked the interior’s fabric. Sock lints were stuck inside. The insole had my sister’s foot shape into it, and she suddenly dropped me inside.
“CLARA!” I screamed and uh. I landed with a thud and I rolled until I came to a stop face first in my sister’s foot sweat absorbing shoe insole. I immediately got up, revulsed and disgusted.
“That’s it Clara, now, just put your shoe back on and pretend that your brother isn’t there.” Said the twisted woman.
“Okay.” Said my sister obediently. She was completely entranced. I saw her socked foot hover over the shoe and I swore all the bible’s saint’s names one by one in alphabetical order in my head. This was the second time in the same day that I would be stuck inside a shoe, and I had to think quick. No toes. I quickly dove down the arch section, close to the wall of the shoe as my siter’s foot passed by me, blocking the light and suddenly increasing the disgusting smell by ten folds. I felt relatively safe and my sister’s incredibly huge foot settled in the running shoe, her heel plopping inside. I heard voices above me, muffled by the shoe walls. My sister’s high arched foot was less hard for me, I had more space to mov, even if it was still cramped. I felt the pressure down my body, nothing as big as the widow’s full weight in leather high heels.
Again, my body became numb from overly smelling the powerful odor of my sister’s shoe and foot. I became lightheaded, it was filling my lungs, my face was full of her sweat. What was she doing, running? On a treadmill? Did that stupid widow used hypnosis to command my sister into running on a treadmill to sweat on me? I wasn’t going to fight. I was just taking it in, smelling my siter’s foot and eating her sock lint and drinking her foot sweat. It was disgusting, but I lost all my will again, just like when I was in the woman’s high heel. There was a spell on me, or maybe it was the normal reaction from the intensity of the smell. I will never know.
When the light came back in the shoe and my sister removed her socked foot from it, I felt like fresh air was assaulting me. Like if fresh air was worse than my habituated lungs could handle. I immediately had a gag reflex. For some reasons I could not understand, I kind of was so habituated to my sister’s foot odor that I needed more. I wanted her to put her foot back into the shoe over me and continue. I tried to fight that thought as I looked up the shoe opening, but it would stick. Up there, the two women looked down at me, my sister giggled and the woman was smiling with that evil smile again.
“Should we let him go?” the widow asked.
“No.” said my sister.
“Do you think he likes it?” she asked.
“Yes.” Said my sister, again, entranced and probably under that witch’s spell.
“Francis, dear stalker, have you learned your lesson, boy?” asked the widow to me. I wanted to scream that I wanted them to let me go, but nothing came out of my mouth. I was deep down conflicted. Messed up in the head. I wanted to smell their feet again, which was completely absurd and stupid but that’s what my brainwashed mind wanted. I was unable to oppose. “I think he likes it now.” The widow said.
“Yes.” Said my sister like a machine.
“Perhaps, if I let you two go back home, you will come back every week and clean my house and as a reward, I will shrunk you and make Francis small and force him to smell my feet, and yours, little Clara.”
“Okay.” Said my sister, braindead, mind controlled.
“Okay.” I said, for reasons I couldn’t understand. What as she done to me, that widow.
“Now you will not talk about this to anyone, and you will come over her every Saturday and do what I say every single time.” The widow said. Me and my sister agreed. The widow picked me up with her thumb and forefinger and she placed me on the floor. In a zap, I was back to my normal size on the floor and my clothes were waiting for me on a chair. Clara laughed at my naked body. The kids in the cages, suspended from the ceiling all laughed too.
“Silence!” said the widow. “Simon, you’re next.” She said to the little boy I met earlier. I put on my clothes like a robot, like if I had no control over my muscles and my movements. Once I was dressed up, the widow escorted us towards the main door and we walked outside her house, free to run away and scream, but no, we just walked our way back home in silence. Behind us, the widow closed the door of her house hidden by the pines at the end of Mill road. It was about midnight.
Clara and I didn’t talk.
While we were walking back home, I kept glancing at her sneakers.
God, that widow, what did she do to me?
The end?
