As the huge toe finally pulls away, you breathe a sigh of relief. Hearing her other foot fall beside the one you're currently trapped in, you understand that this ordeal is probably over. All you wanted was to alert the young witch to your presence, but instead, one of her toes almost ended your entire existence. You had to be careful.
As the pain slowly subsides, you begin to take in your surroundings. Hermione's skin, red and pulsating after the recent itch, throbs against your tiny head. Your face is mashed deeply into her smelly toe cheese. Your hands and legs are pressed like a vice between folds of her smelly flesh, and your body is drenched in her stale sweat as she rubs her toes absentmindedly against each other, and you. Whatever that toe did to you, it managed to squeeze you in even deeper than before, rolling and folding you like the speck that you are into the vast expanse of her toe crevice. Now that the witch is satisfied with your actions, you’re nothing more to her than another piece of mashed debris, another nuisance to be dealt with without a second thought. This is hell, and you have to do something before it's too late.
You try wiggling your arms and legs free, but it’s no use. Each time you make some progress, Hermione rubs her toes together, almost breaking your body completely. You try yelling, but you’re too small for anyone to hear you. You attempt to break free from the bonds of sweat and toe jam, but you're too weak to fight against their iron grip on your shrunken body. All you can do is stare at the patch of reddened, itchy skin in front of you as it pulses against your face. Powerless, afraid, and completely alone, you’re up against the colossal force that is Hermione.
Toe jam oozes around your face, slowly dripping down your neck and torso, making you realize that time is short. You have to act now, but the thought of coming into contact with Hermione's foot flesh again makes you recoil in disgust. The salty taste of her skin, the remnants of toe jam seeping into every nook and crevice, the debris gathered between the tiniest of her wrinkles—it’s all too much. But then again, what choice do you have?
Lifting your head up high, you come face-to-face with the reddened flesh. Extending your body forward as much as possible, you begin to softly kiss the young witch's toe crevice. Your lips fall onto every inch of her skin as your tongue darts out, cleaning every wrinkle around you. Even though all you want to do is recoil, you understand you have no choice. A glob of toe jam falls onto you from above, covering your face in her foot juices. You impulsively move back, but fight against the urge to pull away and press your face harder than ever into her mushy flesh. You have to make her feel you and pull you out of this hell, once and for all.
Down there, you can hear the muffled sounds of the world around you—people walking, talking softly in the silence of the library, books flying about, and Hermione flipping through her books with rapid succession, talking to herself about some old incantations she found. This brings her to the brink of ecstasy, and her toes clench around your tiny body. Your body lashes out in pain as you feel your limbs strain to their breaking point. But as quickly as the enormous pressure starts, it suddenly ends. You fall back, exhausted, understanding that Hermione doesn’t even register your presence down there. So, you double and even triple your efforts. Every muscle in your body screams in protest as your head moves from side to side, your tongue brushing against Hermione's toe crevice as though it’s a canvas. You lick with everything you have, furiously lashing against her skin, sideways, down, up, and every which way you can. And soon enough, something finally happens.
"Why are my toes so itchy?" the young witch’s voice booms from above. Your heart skips a beat as you hear those words, and the world around you begins to shift. You feel a rush of air as you’re suddenly dragged upward beneath the table. Light and air flood into the tight space, and you feel the toes part, their slight wiggling stretching the bonds of sweat around you to their breaking point. You’re still immobilized deep within her flesh, but it’s unmistakably clear—she has felt you.
The giant foot shifts a bit from one side to the other as Hermione examines her foot from afar. “It happened before too, but I thought I dealt with it,” her voice booms aloud again. “Maybe rubbing it with my toe just wasn’t enough,” the young witch furrows her brow as she continues to spread her toes and examine the strange sensations between them.
“Hm... I wonder...” she says one last time, before returning to her book.
You, however, are in a world of your own. As light floods the crevice, you find yourself squinting, trying to get a better sense of what’s going on around you. You notice a few globs of toe jam and grime fall past you and onto the floor. As you strain your neck, you catch sight of her again—Hermione’s beautiful face peeking down at her foot from above, with her hand cupping the side of the massive wooden table. You’re too shaken up to continue licking or doing anything, really. So all you do is stare directly at her. As you do, her mouth curls into words, some of which you understand and some which you don’t.
You begin screaming at her, praying to some unknown god that somehow, someway, your voice will reach her ears. But it appears your words have no effect. You take a deep breath as you prepare to scream at the top of your lungs when suddenly, you hear something that chills you to your very core:
“Hmm... I wonder...” You stop after hearing these booming words. “Wonder? What the hell could she be wondering?” you think. You see Hermione’s face begin to retreat from under the table and scream with everything you have: “Hermione! Please! Notice me!” But it's too late. She’s already back to her book. And just as you prepare to take another breath, her foot begins to move downward again.
“No, no, no!!!” you scream in your head. You were so close, and now you’re going back down again, nothing more than an itchy glob of toe jam to the giantess above you. You have to lick her again; you must. Her toes spread out as you strain your neck, intending to lash out against her tender flesh once more. But as you do, something stops you in your tracks. A scraping sound, louder than anything you've ever heard, catches your attention. Weakly turning around, you see a wall of wood headed straight for you. You scream as it makes contact with your body, pushing you deep into the smelly, plush flesh in front of you, tearing through the bonds of sweat and grime, and smearing mountains of toe jam across it—and into your insignificant body.
Hermione never noticed how sturdy these library tables truly are, especially from down below. Made of oak, with their sturdy legs and large build, it was pretty noticeable that these tables were built to last for at least a few hundred years. But as she did that, an idea formed in her mind. Raising herself back up onto the table, she spread her toes wide open and shoved her toe crevice head-first into one of the wooden legs. The sensation of the sturdy leg and small decorative carvings scrubbing against her sweaty flesh felt incredible. Focusing on her book again, she was certain that whatever was bothering her between her toes would soon be a thing of the past.
If only she knew.
You, however...
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