Magic Feet – Ch 2 – by lostandwhatever

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Continued from Chapter 1.

John went up the stairs and found the door to her apartment propped open with her sandals. He let himself in and said, “Hello?”

“Come on in,” Maggie said from the kitchen. “I was just preparing us a drink.”

He moved her sandals aside and shut the door behind himself.

“Should I take my shoes off?” he asked when he noticed the line of shoes by the door.

“If you want to. It’s up to you.”

He removed his shoes and set them next to hers.

“Have a seat,” she said.

He took a seat on the couch, leaving space next to himself where he hoped she would sit when she joined him.

He looked around the room as he waited. She had a small TV, a small couch, a single recliner, an assortment of house plants, and a gorgeous rug in the middle of the room beneath her small coffee table. There were framed pictures of herself with other people on the walls. One photo showed a very young girl, who might have been Maggie, leaning her back against the chest of an old woman who held the standing girl up by her feet.

“That’s my busia,” Maggie said as she entered the room holding their drinks. “The one holding me in the photo over there.”

She handed him a glass of dark fizzing liquid. “What’s this?” he asked.

“Rum and Coke,” she said. “You had one with dinner. I thought you might enjoy another one.”

“Right,” he said and took a sip from it. “Whoa, that’s strong.”

“Take it slow, then,” she said as she sat down next to him on the couch before taking a sip from her identical drink. “Good though, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he said, setting his drink down on a coaster. “So, hold on a second. You said that was your ‘busia?'”

“Yeah,” she said, setting down her drink next to his. “My grandmother. That photo was taken way back when we all lived in the old country. I loved my busia. She was like me, you see, only she had the gift in her hands, not her feet.”

“The gift?”

“The magic,” she said. “It’s a gift passed down to the women in my family line from as far back as anyone can remember. Some part of us is able to perform magic. My feet, my busia’s hands, her grandmother’s mouth, and her grandmother’s grandmother’s hair, and on and on. Normally, it skips a generation. My mother’s body is perfectly ordinary, but not mine.”

“How did you realize it was your feet that were magical?”

She smiled. “I used to wander in our neighbors’ pastures. It’s one of my earliest memories. I liked to stand barefoot in the cow patties on cool days.”

“Cow patties?”

“Cow poop,” she explained. “It’s very soft and warm when fresh if you don’t mind the smell. Anyway, one day the dairy farmers started to notice new trees growing in their pastures. They were fruit trees, the kind of fruit that no one else was growing in the area, apple trees, pear trees, cherry trees, even one orange tree that didn’t last through the winter. They figured out that the trees had sprouted from the cow patties I’d stood in. After that, word went around that I was just like my grandmother with the magic hands.”

“What was your grandmother like?” he asked and took another sip.

She also took a sip and said, “Some people called her a witch and were afraid to go near her house. She lived in the woods alone, probably to avoid the strange looks people would give her. The little kids would dare each other to touch her door, and then run off giggling and squealing when one of them worked up the courage to do it. She was a kind woman, though, and only used her magic to help people in need, curing the sick and providing gifts to the poor and unfortunate. There was at least one rumor about a cruel man she had cursed after he had harmed a woman in town. No one would say exactly what it was she had done to him, though, but everyone seemed to agree he had deserved it.”

“I see,” John said, wondering if he should have kept his shoes on after all.

“After they found out I had magic feet, people would pay my family to have me to step on things. Farmers would ask me to walk thought their fields just after they had planted crops to guarantee a good harvest. I got to pet all the baby animals with my toes. Sick people would come to our home and ask me to stand on their bellies. I would do it all, no complaints, no hesitation. I enjoyed feeling useful. Even as a little girl, people treated me as someone important, so I was happy to help them all.

“Then, the bad times came. Fighting in the city spread across the land, and then war was everywhere. There was nothing that a pair of magic hands or magic feet could do to cure that evil. My mother and father fled our home with me and my siblings. Busia refused to leave her home, though. Still, she wished us well and blessed us with her hands before we left. No soldiers stopped us as we walked over the border. It was as if we were invisible to them. Then, we found our way to a refugee camp and eventually made our way to America.

“I never found out what happened to Busia. People we spoke to who had lived near us said that her house had disappeared. Not that it had been burned down or bombed into rubble, they just said that one day it was there and the next day it was no longer there, as if it had never existed at all.”

John lifted his drink and made a toast, “To your grandmother.”

She clinked her class against his. “To Busia.”

They both took a drink.

“Wow,” she said. “Yeah, that’s way too strong.”

“Just a little,” John said, feeling a bit tipsy now. His tongue seemed to have loosened up a bit more as well. “By the way, besides growing crops and healing bellies and doing gymnastics and finding coins and summoning jellyfish, what else can your feet do?”

She smiled and lifted her legs. Then, she turned to face him and rested her feet on his lap. “Wanna see what I can do?” she asked.

“Uh huh.”

“Touch them,” she said.

He hesitated. “What’s going to happen?”

She shrugged and smiled. “You’ll find out.”

“Uh, okay,” he said and gently put his hands on her feet. “Like this?”

“Yes, that’s nice.”

“Would you like a massage?”

“Oh, yes, please.”

John worked his thumbs carefully but firmly into the soles of her feet. He watched her shut her eyes and smile. Then, he focused on giving the balls of her feet some attention. She hummed in satisfaction, and he kept massaging.

“That’s wonderful,” she said. “Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he said.

“Do you like feet?” she asked him.

“I don’t dislike them.”

She opened her eyes for a brief peek and said, “Tell me about your childhood. I told you about mine. What were you like as a boy?”

He kept massaging and said, “I dunno. I don’t have any great adventures or magical body parts to talk about. I was just an ordinary kid. I think I was a bit too quiet. Also, I was a late bloomer. It made starting high school a bit awkward being one of the shortest freshmen.”

“I bet you were adorable.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I suppose I was.” His voice cracked, and he gave a brief cough through his nose to clear his throat. He paused the massage to take a sip from his half-empty drink, which seemed to go straight to his head. Then, feeling more than a little buzzed, he kept on massaging.

“I wish I could have met you when you were a boy,” she said with a hypnotic tone to her voice. “Do you miss being young?”

“Sometimes,” he said and coughed again as his voice had sounded very high, almost childish. “Who doesn’t miss being a kid sometimes?”

He noticed her looking at him and realized that something seemed wrong about her. She appeared to be bigger somehow, but she was not taking up any extra space on the couch. In fact, the couch seemed bigger as well. Everything seemed to have grown some.

“What?” he asked the room, feeling a bit confused, and again he heard a high young voice come from his mouth. “What’s going on?”

“It’s alright,” she said, soothingly. “Don’t be afraid.”

He let go of her relatively larger feet and looked at his hands. They seemed smoother and softer, like a boy’s hands. “What happened to me? Am I…? Am I…?”

“Yes,” she said.

“No,” he said shaking his head. “I can’t be. That’s not… You can’t just do that.”

“My feet can.”

“How young?”

“You look to be about 10 now, maybe 9.”

He touched his face and felt no trace of stubble. He touched his throat and found no Adam’s apple. He touched his crotch and felt that there was very little left there.

She sat up and he saw that she was taller than him. That realization of how small he had become made him panic at last.

“S-stay away from me!” he said and fell off the couch, landing on the soft carpet. He got to his feet, and his loose pants dropped down to his ankles followed by his underwear. He tripped on them as he ran for the door.

“Wait,” she said, following behind him.

He discarded his oversized pants and underwear and then reached for the doorknob. When he twisted the knob and pulled, the door refused to budge. He checked the lock and found it to be unlocked. Then, he noticed that she had lifted one of her feet and placed her toes against the door. Apparently, that was enough to keep it from moving at all.

“Let me out!” he said, still pulling uselessly at the doorknob. “Please!”

“Just calm down,” she said. “You don’t have to be afraid. I’ll set you right again if that’s what you want.”

“Yes, please!” he said, feeling ready to cry. “I want to be a grownup again.”

“Step back from the door.”

Reluctantly, he let go of the doorknob and stepped back. She swung her foot from the door to his head and rested her big toe in the exact center of his forehead.

He felt himself shoot up in height. In a moment, he was taller than her again. The sudden growth left him feeling a bit lightheaded, but it might have just been the rum. He shook his head to clear his thoughts and realized that she was no longer touching him with her toe.

“There,” she said, taking a step back. “Back to your normal self again.” She peeked down at his crotch, and he realized that he no longer had any clothes on below the waist.

He covered his genitals with his hands and felt momentarily relieved to be back to his normal size down there. Then, he searched for his discarded pants and underwear.

She fetched them from the floor and handed them to him, while averting her eyes from his nudity. He took them with one hand and kept covering himself with the other.

“Thank you,” he said. “Bathroom?”

She pointed to a door down the hall.

He nodded and hurried into the bathroom, shutting the door behind himself and turning the lights on. He checked himself in the mirror. The stubble was back on his face along with his Adam’s apple, and his crotch was back to normal as well. He let out a sigh of relief. “I’m okay,” he said, testing out his voice. “I’m okay.” It sounded right.

He pulled up his underwear and pants and paused to think before leaving the bathroom. Again, he found himself at a crossroads. Now that the panic had died down, he had to reckon with the fact that his date had magic powers. Or, at least, it had seemed like she had them. Already, a shred of doubt was creeping into his mind about what had just happened. He wondered if there had been something funny in the drink she had given him. Maybe he had hallucinated the whole thing. He wanted to believe that, if only because it would be a much less frightening explanation than the alternative. He thought back on the experience. It had felt as though she had turned him into a boy again, but he was reluctant to believe that was possible. If that was possible, then just about anything could be possible, which was both a wonderful and terrifying thought. If that was possible, then she could do anything she wanted to him. Anything at all.

That scared him, not because he disliked it but because he realized that he did like it. He felt himself get a little hard at the thought of her using her power on him again. Noticing that reaction, he worried about what he might let her do to him next. He wanted to stay, but it made more sense to leave now and maybe come back another night when he was sober and better prepared to deal with magic.

“Be polite,” he told his reflection, “but tell her you’re leaving. Tell her you’ll call her. Thank her for an unforgettable date. Leave. Think about what to do next in the morning when you’re sober.” He nodded. “Yeah. That’s the smart thing to do. Slow it down. Be careful.”

He left the bathroom and returned to her living room. Maggie was sitting on the couch, leaning forward with hands clasped together and her elbows on her knees, waiting for him. She looked concerned. When she saw him enter the room, she sat up straight and said, “John, how are you?”

“I’m… fine,” he said. “I just got a little… freaked out, I guess.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have asked you first. I went too fast. I thought you might enjoy it, like it might be a fun surprise. That was… dumb. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “It was surprising, but everything’s fine now.”

“Oh, that’s a relief.”

“I suppose that’s a fitting end to an unforgettable date.”

“End?” she said. “Wait, you’re leaving?”

“It’s getting late.”

“I…” she looked ready to cry. “I understand.”

“Thank you, though. I’ll call you.”

“Sure,” she said, wiping away a tear. “I get it. Things got a bit out of control for you. You’ve had enough.”

He felt awful for making her cry, but he did not know what to say to make her feel better. He went to put on his shoes.

“Do you want to forget it?” she asked.

“What?” he said, looking back at her.

“I can help you to forget the night, to forget about me. Most guys want to forget. They’d rather not believe the things I can do are possible. It’s too scary for them to know that someone like me exists. It’s more than they can take. Do you want me to help you forget me?”

“No,” he said.

“‘No?'” She perked up.

He half smiled. “Actually, I don’t. As crazy as this has all been, I think I really enjoyed my time with you.”

“Yeah?”

“I panicked, but I did kind of like the feeling of being smaller. I liked… feeling out of control.”

She smiled. “Do you want to try something else?” she asked, relaxing into the couch. “Take it another step?” She crossed her legs and raised an eyebrow.

“Um,” he said. The door was right next to him. He could go. It would be the safe choice. But, then he looked at her feet and realized that they were a gateway to a new world. So many possibilities… She was not keeping him there. He could leave if he wanted to. He was free to choose. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I do,” he said, setting down his shoes and letting go of being safe, of feeling in control. “What do you have in mind?”

Continued in Chapter 3.

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I write mature transformation fiction: fantasy and sci-fi stories where characters change ages, sizes, genders, etc. | lostandwhatever@gmail.com | DeviantArt | Patreon | Ko-Fi

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