Two fingers is all she requires to hold you. Not even a thumb- only two fingers wrapped around the thong currently arching over your head. You try to pull away, but the only movements you can make are a nigh-imperceptible shudder, and a very slight tightening of the strap; in other words, the very movements you'd need to massage a foot standing atop you.
"You'll find your range of motion to be a bit limited in this form, Mike. Can't have my new shoes walking themselves away!" Jeanie cackles as if you were meant to find the 'joke' funny as well. "Oh, come on! You're going to have to lighten up if you ever want to be more than a pair of flip-flops." Before you can think it, she adds; "And I don't mean turning you back. But, if you treat your mistress well, you may be rewarded with a more pleasant form. Take Philip, for instance." Your world spins, and you find yourself looking into the fishbowl from earlier. A golden shimmer nearly blinds you, but it drifts out of a beam of sunlight, giving you a chance to recognize it. Swimming in wide, lazy circles, a healthy-looking goldfish peers back at you with deep blue eyes; eyes that seem far too intelligent to belong to a mere fish. "I first transformed him decades ago," Jeanie continues, unhindered. "I don't remember what it was, but he's been my little fishy companion for a few years now, and loving every moment. Isn't that right, dear?" The fish nods, but she didn't seem to pay him any mind.
Seemingly satisfied, the witch moves you from over the coffee table. Her fingers unfurl, and you plummet down to the floor below. Your soft form strikes the boards with a smack, fortunately without pain, but what you see is deeply disorienting. One eye, half your vision, is stuck looking into the deep, age-worn grooves of the wooden floor. However, the other is staring upward, forced to look up at Jeanie's towering form as she peers down at you. Her weight shifts to one leg as the other lifts, revealing a foot that rises to loom above you. Its toes wiggle, and specks of dirt float down to land on your eye. Then, the meaty beast swoops down. Its giant form is, obviously, as big as you are, and you're pushed across the floor as its flesh makes contact with you. Your thong finally catches between her toes, and an instant later the foot settles down on you. The first thing you notice is the pressure. There's no pain, but even now her weight is compressing you, your foamy face bending into the curves of her sole. Second is the smell; from what you can tell, your nose is positioned right in her arch, perfect to catch the sweat dripping down her body from the summer heat. Next is the sight. While half your vision is still on the floor, the half on this shoe is staring up between her toes. Far above you, the witch's face smirks down from over her giant breasts as she continues to wiggle the five monsters, drumming them on your eye. Finally, your mouth feels open, and a salty taste assaults it as she fully steps down on you. Coarse skin scrapes what would be your lips and tongue; while her foot is well taken-care of, her heel is understandably calloused, and now that dead skin was having its way with your taste buds.
The muscles in her legs flex, and the flesh around them jiggles as she again shifts her weight. Your body is squeezed more and more, and you let out a great mental groan as she compresses you. "Oh, I forgot how many noises living shoes make." Her eyes glow with that blood-red light once more, but nothing seems to happen as you strain beneath her. "There we go. Now you can huff and puff all you want without disturbing me!" With that, her free foot swings down. Your other half is flipped with ease, and the whole donning process is repeated as that foot settles into you. For a moment she stands there, seeming to bask in the sensation of literally having you underfoot. "Why don't you go ahead and try your massaging abilities?" she calls down, not even bothering to look at you.
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