The girls huge abused swollen feet throb in the enclosed space of the truck. They are sandwiched between the tender soles and crushed toes of their aching peds, and there is no more room for their hurting titanic tootsies to grow!
Cracks filled the surface of the windows from the intense pressure made by the inflating tissues of their expanding feet. Pink sole flesh was tightly mashed against the glass, with the occasional painted toenail slammed paper thin up to the windows. But to the girls dismay the glass held and did not offer the relief that free space would have offered the crushed matter of their spreading flesh. They would gladly trade the pain of razor sharp glass stabbing into their hurting feet over the devastating squashing every inch of foot was suffering in this glass and steel cage. All of it throbbed as blood vessels pumped harder, the tenderness increasing as the swelling got worse
They were sliding over the wet, tender spread of this pink flesh, bodies so tiny by comparison to the ton of aching muscle and bone each of their tortured feet had grown into. The ballooning foot flesh kept pitching them about like a solid wave of sweaty wrinkled silk. Throbbing more by every instant.
Overwhelming the disorienting feeling of being tossed about in the cyclone of tender muscle was the screaming desire to take their massive feet out of the constricted space of the truck. No matter how badly their bodies were being crushed or faces smothered by damp stinking foot flesh, the compressed tissues of their crushed feet hurt far worse.
As each girl was feeling about with both her hands and trapped feet she wanted to know what each piece of abused flesh she found was. It was hard to tell where one girl’s foot ended and the other one began. Everything felt like the same bloated and inflamed material. Every so often a girl could clutch enough surface of a foot to recognize it as belonging to her and wonder.
How could this vast muddle of pulpy meat be her foot? It was inhumanly large and formed by the shape of the truck, not nature. There seemed no way that the pink bloated and pounding foot could ever fit into a sexy stiletto heel again. Now and then something that could have been a toe slid past her groping fingers, but she only felt a small part of the digit, and it was far too painful to grab onto. Then the feeling of owning one of these giant tootsies would flee from her in a sea of foot ache.
Each girl could feel the others toned and fit figure swimming against the helpless substance of her expanded feet. Conducting a sense of pain and pleasure as each girl’s strugglesalternatively damaged or tickled the delicate flesh. It was weird, being able to feel their struggling bodies in the folds of their soles, hard nipples pressing against the rough spots on their foot-pads. Could this be a strange way to enjoy oneself, at the extreme end of agony.
Were the meridians of their poor feet, so monstrously enlarged, being stimulated by their movements producing a feeling of pleasure? The feeling of disgust mingled with the possibility of hedonistic tingling as the girls pressed harder into the yielding meat of their feet. Each of them was managing to form a tight cocoon of air around their faces and plump breast.
Big fat pads of toes slowly wriggled near them. Pulsing and swelling, barely under their control. Each girl cursed the other as they moved toes belonging to the others throbbing foot.
As they gently slid gigantic and aching toes aside the girls could see one another, wet and exhausted. They were overjoyed to see each-other alive, and inwardly, suffering as much as one another.
Each one had pain in her eyes, trying to hide the pinch she felt from her trapped feet. It was the same look given as women claimed that their tortuous shoes did not hurt their swollen and blistered feet. But this level of suffering was new, and the flesh of their inflated feet was getting pinched by the hinges of the doors.
I gotta get out of this truck, my feet are killing me.
Yeah, I need this vehicle in a size 4,000, extra wide.
Jokes might help alleviate their suffering. The girls engaged in some gallows humor about their feet, trying to take themselves out of the horrible reality they were in.
We can make a fortune stomping grapes at my uncle’s vineyard with these feet. They are a gold-mine!
At least this isn’t a crystal smart-car that our feet are squeezed into.
No, we are in a pumpkin coach made out of our own, engorged foot flesh.
Are you making fun of the orange spots on my soles?
This led to talk about the appearance of their feet, and eventually the pain they felt took them out of their temporary giddiness.
We could use our toes to prop up some of the spreading sole flesh and turn this cave of feet into a bouncing moon-walk.
I think I would die if someone stomped on my tender and wrecked feet, it hurts just thinking about it.
I’ll make sure that the next truck my feet grow to gigantic proportions in has a proper orthotic in place. And a padded seat just for my bunion.
Please don’t mention that bunion, its digging into the top of my right foot and it is pointy.
Ooh, yup this car is rather lacking in toe room. I could use some corn-pads the size of manhole covers.
My toes, they are the most painful part of my feet, mashed into hard and stiff steel. Grinding on my tender corns.
Both girls thought of how badly twisted their feet were in the tight space, where toes were crushed, pinched, bent and contorted into terrible positions.
Oh our poor feet, what are we going to do?
The truck hit a pot-hole, sending a wave of pain through their tortured feet.
We have to get this vehicle off our poor, suffering feet.
What are we going to do after that, my feet are not even human anymore. I cannot tell where my giant foot ends and your’s begins. It all just hurts so much. What am I going to do.
I know what you mean, only one of us can marry doctor Scholls.
It was frightening to think about what could be done for their condition, they had no idea that the witches potion would magically enable their feet to grow indefinitely. It also seemed to have made their feet indestructible, since much of the abuse inflicted on them should have torn them to pieces. But the lotion has also increased the sensitivity of their feet, giving them limitless suffering in the broken and swollen appendages. They seemed to have become a magnet for continuing abuse.
I do not care how our feet look, I just need to give them some space to grow into. Your big, pulsing soles and throbbing toes need more room to spread into. Other than into the tender and helpless meat of my excruciatingly sore feet I mean.
Oh every nail is ingrown, and each toe hammered that is pressing into the soft and beaten feet of your feet. I long for my pummeled digits to have ice on their delicate tips and aching joints.
We have to find the controls of the car somewhere hidden beneath the mass of our feet. They are so big and heavy, and I can’t move my poor toes.
All I feel is a tighter and tighter coffin that my feet are strangling in as my toes cry out in pain.
Our feet are really big right now, they need to swell up a lot more than this truck will give us. Look at how mashed each of our monster feet are against each-others. You can just make out the different colors of our flesh. I can feel your pulse they are so tightly packed into me.
I know, they are folded up like origami. Parts are crunched up and others stretched thin. Bony bits and lots of squishy masses. I just wish it did not hurt so much. it would feel so good to get our feet out of this tight truck and peel our intertwined feet and toes.
Every-time you move I have to suppress screaming it hurts so bad, lets just tend to the flesh of our abused feet.