“Don’t you think Sammy’s had enough.” Stacy asked. “I get how you feel, but we can’t hurt him like that. He needs rest.” Your sister quickly grabbed you from your mother’s hand, comfortingly stroking your insole-shaped body. “I’ll take him to his room.”
Shannon frowned. “O-of course sweetie…you’re right.” She said softly, watching her daughter leave the room. Stacy took you into your room, placing you on the bed gently. She then returned to your mother’s room and peeked her head inside.
“I’m going over to Vicky’s for the night. Have fun at the restaurant and the club!” Stacy smiled happily before heading downstairs and out to her car. All alone, Shannon stared in her mirror for a full minute, before an expression of determined resignation crossed her face. She sauntered over to your bedroom and right up to your bed.
“Sorry about this baby, but I need you for this.” Shannon whispered, picking you up in her tight grip and heading back downstairs. Checking to make sure her daughter had driven off, Shannon deposited you back into her left heel, firmly slamming you back into place, twisting her palm to make sure you stuck good.
You spent this entire time mentally screaming and crying out for her to stop, begging her to reconsider her idiotic plan and take your feelings into account. Sadly, your mute cries went unnoticed, as did your spastic wiggles and squirms, which were hidden by Shannon’s quick actions.
Once convinced of a plan, you knew it was nearly impossible to stop your stubborn mother from seeing it through. Scenarios similar to this occurred far too often for your tastes, as your ditzy mother continuously put her appearance and attitudes over your safety. Still, you know she didn’t mean any true harm, and loved you all the same despite situations like this.
Your mother smiled once more, seeing her son-turned-insole slotted back into place. She returned to her room to finished getting dressed and putting on makeup, heading back downstairs an hour later. She was wearing a elegant and revealing royal blue dress that displayed generous cleavage and barely went down past her ass.
Slipping her feet into her heels, she smiled happily at how comfortable and pleasant they were, stomping each foot a few times to really get her feet in right. Each stomp sent a wave of pain through your body, and your mother’s full weight pressing down on you was nearly unbearable. You cursed your squishy body for being so pliable and supportive. Otherwise, your mom would never consider using you as an insole.
Strolling out for a wonderful night, Shannon climbed into her car and drove off. As she hummed happily along to the radio, her feet began to sweat, creating a moist bog of disgusting uncomfortableness in the dark hellhole of her heels. You vainly tried to squirm for her attention, but the pressure was far too great to move even a millimeter. You were well and truly trapped.
Meeting her friends for dinner, Shannon enjoyed a wonderful meal, laughing and chatting the night away. Once satisfied, Shannon and her pals scurried off to the nightclub, eager to drink and dance the night away. As your mother skipped along, you felt your battered body flatten even further each time her foot crashed back down onto solid ground.
While waiting for drinks at the nightclub, Shannon’s friend spotted your mother’s beautiful heels. “Where did you get those Shan? Those are so pretty!”
Shannon beamed, filled with pride. “At a high-end shoe store. Aren’t they darling? And the insoles are the comfiest in the world! You should buy a pair…or I could let you borrow these!”
As the women laughed, you remain oblivious to the conversation, far too much distance and muffling flesh between you and them. If you had heard their conversation, you would’ve realized the horrible truth that Shannon had, once again, completely forgotten about you buried beneath her left foot, and was bragging about you like you were nothing but an average insole.
The drinking and dancing began soon after, and it wasn’t long before your drunk supermodel mother was stumbling around the dance floor, crushing you repeatedly. As the night dragged on, you felt your squishy body beginning to bond even further with the high heel, and the worrying thought of permanently adhering to this shoe caused you to panic, though you were powerless to do anything about it.
At three o’clock the next morning, the nightclub closed down, and your mom’s sober friend drove everyone home. Shannon toppled into her house, barely managing to open and close the front door. She kicked her heels off and into the closet, then collapsed onto the couch, passing out almost instantly.
Free of your mother’s smelly and overbearing foot, you focused all of your efforts on reforming, only to find that you couldn’t budge your flattened body at all. Your mother had forced you to endure so much abuse, and hours of constant crushing that you were well and truly plastered to this heel. You had essentially become a true insole now, and couldn’t escape without outside help!
***
You spent all night trying to reform, but made no progress at all. You weren’t in any better shape at twelve o’clock when Stacy shook your mom awake, offering her a glass of water to drink. Shannon was very hungover, but eagerly took the water from her daughter and chugged it down.
“Mom…do you know where Sammy is?” Stacy posed her question. “He was on his bed last I saw him, but I can’t find him anywhere now.”
Shannon looked at Stacy with blurry eyes. “…everything’s…hazy.” Shannon shrugged. “…I don’t think I’ve seen him though…” Your mother leaned back again, and was soon asleep once more.
Stacy remained unconvinced of Shannon’s answer, and headed over to the closet, peering at the high heels her mother had praised the previous day. Though she felt certain that her mother wouldn’t willing use her own son as an insole, especially after she had chastised her for the idea, Stacy wanted to be sure, just in case.
Your giantess sister picked up the left heel and looked down into it, trying to see if she could spot her squishy little brother. You mentally cheered and shouted upon seeing Stacy about to rescue you, though your hopes dimmed upon spotting her curious gaze? Didn’t she see you? Why hadn’t she pulled you out yet?
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author