Mia's Mom - Clancy

Never cross Mia. Many had learned this lesson the hard way, had their perceptions of reality shattered by her power to shrink them small as an ant, and subsequently been the subjects of her petty revenge.

Occasionally, however, Mia would not personally use her shrunken little toys, but delegate them to her oblivious mother: Clancy.

‎ 12:09pm | Wednesday

You'd been unfortunate enough to offend Mia, leading to your current predicament: Stark naked and the size of a flea encased within her enormous palm as she walks through the hallways towards classroom 3-B, where physics lessons are held. Your entire world had shrank to the deep creases and folds of her plush, soft palms that pressed into your exposed skin as she clasped her hands firmly around you so intensely that you couldn't even move. It was clear that she wasn't even putting in much effort at all and yet you were being completely overpowered.

She knocks on the classroom door, deliberately with the hand you are held in. The sharp vibrations traveling through your vulnerable body, sharply jarring you and making your ears ring. Mia enters the classroom, startling the teacher sitting at her desk in the corner beside the whiteboard

"Hi mom~" Mia chirps brightly, her voice sounding muffled from within her inescapable grasp "Oh, it's only you, love. Come in... Sorry about that, I've been a little on edge. The principal keeps saying he's going to pay me a visit for my 'performance review'. Ugh."

Clancy slumps back into her chair as Mia slinks into the classroom

"Why's that a bad thing? Afraid he'll find out about all those times you let the last period kids go home, like, half an hour early when you're going out that night?~" Mia replies with a smirk

Clancy just scoffs and shakes her head

"When you get to my age, dear, you'll realise that half an hour every now and then isn't the end of the world."

Mia saunters over to where her mom's sitting and sits on the desktop, letting her legs swing idly, you're still clasped in her closed palm. Clancy shoots her a stern mom look from over her glasses and Mia immediately folds, hopping back off the desk meekly.

Clancy just smiles approvingly at her daughter "Good girl."

The room settles into a comfortable silence as Clancy finishes her lunch. She begins to speak again, her tone relaxed and casual as she speaks to Mia while occupied with her phone

"So you just came to hang out with me at lunch, hm? How sweet~ most kids your age wouldn't be caught dead with their mothers. I'm glad you still have time for me. Though, in all honesty, I thought you might might have some ulterior motive."

Mia's attention drifts to underneath the desk, where her mom's bare feet flex and point languidly, she had taken them off for a brief reprise from the stuffy heels. Her shoes, a pair of well worn, cream, heeled pumps, lie unattended under the desk. Mia stutters slightly as she replies

"U- Ulterior motives, me? Nah..."

Clancy let out a pleased hum. Before long, though, her face lit up with a flicker of recognition and she rose to her feet.

"Ah, I forgot. I was going to catch up on some of those tests that need marking before 4th period starts. One second, love."

Clancy pads barefoot to the cabinet on the other side of the room, and Mia sees her chance. She bites her lip and looks down towards her mom's work shoes under the desk. The insoles visibly bear the mark of her substantial, size 10 feet in the darkened imprints. She'd had countless tinies in her own socks and shoes, but trapping them inside her own mother's shoes? That was new... And naughty. You're hurriedly dropped in the gaping maw of the enormous shoe, landing on the heel area and tumbling down the slide where the arch sits before finally landing in the toe box with a damp squelch.

Just as you're coming to your senses, a row of thick, plump toes are closing in to seal your close, stuffy fate...

‎ 6 hours later

Clancy trudged back through the front door, the weight of more overtime marking midterms lifting from her shoulders in this cozy, domestic setting

"I'm Home!~"

She calls out to Mia, leaving her coat by the door and making a beeline to the couch. Flopping down beside Mia, who was on her phone

"Hey... You're late again" Mia greets her mom in the same lowkey manner as always

Clancy's eyes were already closed. She drawled in a husky voice

"mmm... Sorry, love. Midterms..." she doesn't have to clarify. This time of year always means long, tiring shifts. Mia knew from how many times her mom would coerce her into foot rubs after work.

Clancy sank back further into the couch with a satisfied sigh, propping up one of her bare feet on the ottoman as she let her eyes drift closed

She remained completely unaware of you, stuck fast to her mature, meaty sole. You were imprinted into the spongy, yielding flesh just below the ball of her foot. Literal hours of her entire bodyweight smothering you -along with the dewy condensation from the bottom of her warm foot acting as a natural adhesive - had literally plastered you to her sole like a living sticker. And yet still, you registered to her as nothing more than another piece of lint. High above, you heard Clancy's blissfully unaware, British-accented voice reverberate:

"Ah~ But for some reason, my shoes were extra comfortable today..."

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You'd been waiting in this nice restaurant for a while now. A quick glance at your watch - a nice piece you only wear for special occasions like this - and you see the dials reading 8:16pm: you'd be waiting for 20 minutes, exactly.

You'd taken the liberty of ordering a bottle of merlot for the table, but the wine seems to taste sour as the thought your blind date has stood you up swills around your head. A waiter brushes past, making the candle on your small, round table flicker slightly. He serves a couple who have the table right in front of the large fresco covering the wall, a romantic scene of Naples, Venice, or something like that...

8:17pm

Another minute passes as you're surveying the and restaurant. It seems quiet for a Saturday night, which is strange considering the good reviews this place has. The bar was empty, except for the barman , wearing a white collared shirt and a black waistcoat, with his back turned to you as he counted some cash from the register. It was one of these places where the waiters wore waistcoats and formal shirts, a pretty formal place, all things considered. The interior was decorated in a Tuscan style and almost the entire place was bathed in a warm glow from candles and old-fashioned gas lamps.

The candle flickers once again in the breeze, and your eyes flick to the door in the far corner near the bar. An older woman enters. She looks haggard as she asks the barman something. He seems astonished, scandalized even, at this lady who disturbed the tranquility of the restaurant with her general flapping about. They're discussing something, but you can't make out what either of then are saying. The barman then points towards your table, directly at you, which catches you off guard. The woman's neck snaps towards you, her mouth slightly agape, and then she closes it with conscious effort, a small, but genuine smile appearing on her lips.

That must be Clancy.

You didn't know much, well, know anything about her. This was a blind date after all. She was an older lady, maybe late 30's, 40's, and has the appearance of a charming, rogue beauty. She was wearing a tight black evening dress with no straps to speak of, baring her fair shoulders and upper back. The dress, while tigjt, flowed st the legs, and on her feet were a pair of black platform sandals. With the force she stomped towards your table, you though lt for a moment she might snap the heel.

She smiled again, warmer this time as she stood before the table. Her bead bracelets jingling as she adjusted the small black handbag on her arm

"{{user}}, right? Sorry I'm late!" She spoke in a posh, British accent "First drink's on me, of course. It's the least I can do~"

The clock seemed to move at half speed as you stared at it, as if to will it to move faster. You had been in this after-school detention now for nearly half an hour, with another half an hour remaining. The teacher sitting at her desk at the front of the classroom seemed just as dissatisfied with her predicament as you did. Earlier, the headteacher had escorted you like some kind of prisoner to her classroom. The look on Mrs. Kibo's face when she heard she'd have to stay an extra thirty minutes was comparable to the expression you make when hearing the news your relative has just died in a brutal car crash

Now she wasn't even pretending to be working like earlier. Her chin was propped up in her hand as she stared out the window. She looked more natural like this, almost like she wasn't even supposed to be a teacher. There was 1 other person in the room with you: A wiry, black haired girl with tired, green eyes. You had no idea of her name, and it never occurred to you to ask. She seemed to be a quiet, reserved person so she might not even answer if you were to ask... She was here when you arrived so you can only assume she had also been sentenced to an unfair detention like yourself.

The silence was broken by a theatrical groan. That couldn't have been... Mrs. Kibo?! Sure enough, she's face down on the desk now. You hear a little snicker from the girl on the other side of the classroom. "This sucks..." Mrs. Kibo laments in a long drawling groan, to your awe. The roles had been completely reversed, weren't you supposed to be the one saying that? "What did you even do to get after-school detention anyway?" She continues, peeling her face from the wooden desk and looking right at you through her, now crooked, glasses.

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