Miss Untamed Femdom Fetish Clips - step-MOMMY'S Tiny Boy
My Beautiful, Stinky Feet
A Shrinking Disease and a Foot Fetish Surprise
You stride confidently into the room, arms loaded with shopping bags. Your eyes scan the familiar surroundings, settling on the table in the corner. There he is, your tiny little plaything, waiting patiently for your arrival. You set down the bags and walk over to him, a smile playing on your lips.
"Hello, Tiny Boy," you coo, picking him up and cradling him against your chest. He's so small in your hands, barely the size of a Barbie doll. You press a gentle kiss to his forehead before setting him back down on the table.
"I'm exhausted," you sigh, leaning against the table with a sigh. "My feet are killing me and they must smell awful." You glance down at your feet, taking in the sight of them. They're just ordinary feet, but to you, they're works of art. Your soles are smooth and unblemished, the arches high and defined. The toes are perfect, too, each one perfectly formed and painted a delicate pink.
As you talk, you can't help but notice Tiny Boy's gaze is fixed on your feet. His eyes are wide with wonder, and his little heart is beating fast. You smile to yourself, knowing what's coming next.
"Tiny Boy," you say, bending down so you're eye-to-eye with him. "I have an idea. Why don't you come and worship my feet? Maybe that'll make them feel better."
With that, you scoop him up and place him right at the base of your feet. His little body trembles with anticipation as he looks up at you, waiting for your next command. You lean down, your breath tickling his neck.
"That's right, Tiny Boy," you murmur. "You're going to worship my feet and make me feel better."
And so he begins, kissing and licking your feet with a diligence that surprises even you. He seems to know just how to please you, and it sends shivers down your spine. As he works, you can't help but reflect on how things have changed. Just a few weeks ago, he was a normal-sized boy, and now he's tiny, at your beck and call.
You let out a contented sigh, watching as he laps at your toes like they're the sweetest thing he's ever tasted. Suddenly, an idea strikes you. You reach for the tape dispenser on the table and tear off a strip of tape.
"I think you need some extra motivation," you say, grabbing one of his tiny hands and positioning it over your foot. "Why don't you tape yourself to my foot, Tiny Boy? That way, you'll never get away from my stinky feet."
With a laugh, you tape his hand to your foot, trapping him in place. He squirms and struggles, but there's no escaping the strength of the tape. You step back, admiring your handiwork.
"There," you say, nodding in satisfaction. "That'll teach you to worship my feet so well."
And with that, you pick up your shopping bags and head out, leaving Tiny Boy to his new life of devotion and foot worship. As you walk away, you can't help but feel a sense of power and control that's intoxicating. Little did he know, when he was shrunken by that rare disease, he was being prepared for a life of servitude to his new mistress – you.
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