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The Secret World Beneath Mitsuko's Feet.
🕑 Added 2023-06-29 18:42:34 +0000 UTCMitsuko was wedded, yet her husband was an absentee, always gallivanting or returning late from his business ventures. They bore no offspring. Masao, the quintessential stern husband, exacting in his ways, believed himself to be a paragon of a spouse by providing for Mitsuko's material needs. He was among the proprietors of a formidable enterprise in the realm of trade and electronics. His previous venture had weathered a considerable loss, but now, owing to his unwavering dedication and that of his fellow partners, it was on the mend, thriving once more.
In a placid neighborhood they dwelled, wherein Mitsuko had effortlessly forged bonds with all their neighbors. She was a woman of maturity, unassuming, yet her presence was impossible to ignore. An ethereal beauty she possessed, coupled with an innate grace and an alluring, dulcet voice. Not one that evoked infantile notions, but rather a voice that exuded serenity, instilling peace of mind in any who had the privilege to listen.
Alas, the denizens of the neighborhood harbored a clandestine matter concerning Mitsuko—a matter they, of course, refrained from sharing with her: Mitsuko possessed exquisite feet. Adorned with impeccable pedicures, ensconced in resplendent and wondrous footwear, the very contour of her toes and every minute detail... A mesmerizing amalgamation that inevitably drew the gaze of men towards Mitsuko's feet whenever she sauntered about in sandals. It proved to be a torment, to behold the feet of the Japanese immigrant without attracting the notice of either her rigid, jealous husband — aptly notorious for his acerbic treatment of others — nor the scrutiny of society. Masao instilled fear in his workplace, seemingly deriving a perverse pleasure from demeaning others, all under the guise of fortifying them, molding them into individuals of unwavering strength.
But unbeknownst to the devoted followers of Mitsuko's foot club within the neighborhood, she had come to recognize over time that her feet garnered an abundance of attention. Naturally, she took meticulous care of them, yet her husband scarcely glanced her way, regarding her merely as an ornament. Theirs was a complex, excessively traditional arranged union that had cast Mitsuko into the role of a mere trinket, designed to embellish her husband's existence. However, in the recesses of her being, Mitsuko harbored her own aspirations...
She would lock eyes with men and lads alike. And when she sensed their gaze drifting towards her feet, she pretended not to notice, yet she would wiggle her toes, an artful provocation. Oh, how she relished witnessing their composure falter, their feeble attempts to hide their fascination. Meanwhile, she, a mistress of disguises, remained genteel and gracious, her voice a melody of sweetness, her spirit an oasis of tranquility.
The neighborhood thrived on camaraderie, a community of affluence where helping hands abounded. A whiz at computer formatting, a green thumb for gardening, a master of auto maintenance — neighbors readily offered their expertise. Despite their means to hire professionals, the habit of lending support had taken root. Such symbiotic relationships fostered a solid network, a web of connections from which all reaped rich rewards. Except for Masao, who remained distant, absent even at neighborhood barbecues. His interaction was restrained, his actions limited to simple smiles and discreet gestures, neither hostile nor sociable.
None of the men who admired Mitsuko's feet knew of the other admirers she had garnered. For it was still a time when discussions revolved around a woman's bosom and curvaceous hips, while feet remained an enigma, deemed submissive and feeble by the masculine gaze.
But Mitsuko, whether inadvertently or by design, transcended those boundaries.
There were men who, within the solitude of their own lavatories, paid homage to Mitsuko's feet, indulging in a multitude of fantasies. Among them, the most vivid depicted Mitsuko as a colossal goddess, with themselves as diminutive insects, trapped within the vast expanse of her feet, entangled in a web of extraordinary circumstances.
Once upon a time, there was Mike, a computer wizard who resided at the far end of the street. By some twist of fate, he found himself with a rare day off and decided to pay a visit to Mitsuko's humble abode, offering his technical expertise to troubleshoot her printer. Little did he know that he was not only a member of Mitsuko's esteemed foot club but an ardent admirer of Mitsuko herself. She possessed an allure that was impossible to resist – a combination of discretion, tender gazes, and an inner tranquility that oozed charm.
To Mike's astonishment, the printer conundrum proved more complex than anticipated. It wasn't due to any lack of proficiency on his part; rather, the aging contraption stubbornly clung to outdated drivers and faltering components. Masao, Mitsuko's husband, the penny-pincher, had decided to pinch every last penny, unwilling to invest in a shiny new replacement, even though his pockets overflowed with financial abundance. But for Mitsuko's simple printing needs, a brand-new printer seemed an unnecessary extravagance.
On that scorching summer day, Mitsuko graced the world with her presence, adorned in delicate strappy sandals. Masao may have scrimped on a new printer, but he spared no expense to ensure his wife's beauty radiated effortlessly. And so, even on a mundane Monday morning, Mitsuko exuded an ethereal beauty that transcended the ordinary.
Oh, what an arduous Monday it proved to be for poor Mike! Try as he might, he couldn't tear his gaze away from Mitsuko's tantalizing toes. They possessed an exquisite elegance, adorned with a flawlessly pearlescent sheen. His very soul yearned to transcend his earthly form, to plant kisses upon her divine feet. Alas, his physical vessel strained to contain his desires, and the perspiration on his brow was attributed to the sweltering heat, a convenient excuse when questioned by his curious neighbor. Mitsuko, ever gracious, extended a glass of water, not merely to quench his thirst but to soothe the tumult within.
And with every stolen glance at Mitsuko's bewitching feet, she would wiggle her dainty, size 6 toes, a seductive dance of temptation. She was aware, oh yes, she knew.
But Mike, the computer savant, had long indulged in a myriad of fantasies involving Mitsuko. One particular reverie cast Mitsuko as a towering goddess, while he shrank to a minuscule speck, helpless and at her mercy. On that fateful day, in that morning's embrace, his mind was awash with a surge of electrifying adrenaline, yearning to experience the vulnerability of existence, diminished and defenseless in the presence of this gentle and serene enchantress. Mike's heart threatened to burst from his chest, but he remained resolute, successfully resolving Mitsuko's technical predicament. In response, she thanked him with the utmost composure and sweetness imaginable. And as he bid his farewell, he couldn't resist one final stolen glimpse at the resplendent feet of his goddess. Mitsuko beamed as she watched him depart, her knowing smile a testament to the power she held over him all along.
On that fateful day, Mike paid his homage to Mitsuko once more, as the presence of Mitsuko's devoted fan club loomed large over the neighborhood gatherings. Bowling, football, poker, and friends held no allure compared to the captivating spell Mitsuko cast. They scoffed at those futile pastimes, those trivial distractions. Yet, on a particular day, the universe conspired, spinning its whimsical wheel of fate, and it landed on Mike. "Today is your day, my lad," whispered the wind in his ears.
Masao, Mitsuko's husband, had contemplated dispatching a technician from his own company to mend the computer in his office. But fortune smiled upon Mike, for on that very day, Kevin fell victim to the clutches of a mundane virus, rendering him unfit for duty. Thus, the responsibility fell upon Mike's capable shoulders to undertake the task, his fee waived as an act of unforeseen benevolence.
It had come to light that an audacious attempt had been made to infiltrate Masao's computer, yet thanks to Mike's skilled hands, no significant loss or pilferage occurred. Diligently, he toiled, fortifying the network's defenses and meticulously refining the labyrinthine codes of the operating system. It was a modest endeavor, imbued with meticulousness and precision, for such was Mike's nature. And on that auspicious day, a curious thought arose within him, whispered by a hidden force: You shall diminish.
You shall diminish, echoed the voice within the recesses of Mike's mind, its words seeping into the depths of his being. As if ensnared by the allure of ancient enchantments, he yearned to shrink, to become minute, minuscule — no larger than a mere insect. And Mitsuko, the harbinger of his desires, would surely discover him in his newfound diminution.
Mike, the old Mike who never missed an opportunity to steal glances at Mitsuko's feet, found himself confounded. Perhaps he had ventured too far into the realm of fantasies. He needed to halt his mind's wild wanderings. Besides, on that day, Mitsuko sported nothing more than delicate slippers upon her feet. It was not a particularly scorching day, despite the sun emanating a pleasant warmth in the morning air.
"Care for a cup of hot chocolate, Mike?" Mitsuko inquired, clad in a resplendent silk robe. A discreet jewel adorned her neck, and her hair had been meticulously arranged. Mike had already completed the task at hand and offered a partial explanation of his accomplishments, but he intended to delve into the intricacies with Masao in due course.
"I'd better decline, Mitsuko. I truly must be on my way. Masao should ring me up soon."
"I understand that money holds no sway over you, so a cup of chocolate is the least I can offer. Come, allow me to prepare it for you. Masao brought it all the way from Switzerland."
Mike sighed, his smile tinged with a sense of surrender. "Very well."
Masao's wife skillfully prepared a cup of exquisite chocolate, its steam rising like molten lava. As it cooled to a drinkable temperature, Mike and Mitsuko engaged in banter, venturing beyond the realm of computers and delving into the minute details of their neighborhood.
With each sip, Mike sensed that the decision to linger had been justified. It was as if the beverage, bestowed upon him by Mitsuko's hand, warmed not only his body but also his very soul. With tenderness, kindness, and an affectionate smile, Mitsuko unveiled a side of herself that transcended the boundaries of their interaction.
But Mike halted after a few sips, his mind besieged by thoughts more powerful than ever before. The time had come to shrink. To diminish! To become infinitesimal in the presence of Mitsuko's feet, here and now!
He exerted every effort to banish those thoughts, even beseeching a God he did not truly believe in. But it was futile. Mike shrank.
His diminishment unfolded gradually, disbelief coloring his every dwindling moment. Still clutching the steaming mug of hot chocolate, which diminished in proportion to his shrinking form, an ethereal aura pulsated around him, accompanied by an eerie resonance echoing through the chambers of his mind. And in that very instant, his spirit erupted into a cathartic frenzy. All his most intimate fantasies were materializing before his very eyes. And to complete the tapestry, the crowning glory, there was Mitsuko's gaze. She smiled, her left hand delicately covering her right hand, poised upon her lap. As Mike continued to shrink, she leaned closer to observe, her voice retaining its saccharine sweetness, "Ara, ara, Mike is shrinking."
When Mike's diminishment reached its culmination, he beheld himself, still garbed in clothing and clutching the diminished mug. His mind froze momentarily, as he wandered in circles, surveying the surroundings, including the colossal Mitsuko.
"What has come to pass?" Mike cried out, his eyes widened in a tempest of desperation and boundless exhilaration. "Is this the realm of reality?"
"Oh dear, it has run its course. Come hither, diminutive Mike," Mitsuko tenderly prepared the fingers of her right hand, delicately clasping the minute figure and raising him toward her countenance. He drew closer, yet not too close. In this instant, Mike held an unwavering conviction that Mitsuko was naught less than a deity.
"Doth this diminution please thee?" Mitsuko inquired, her voice gentle, her demeanor tranquil.
"I must surely have succumbed to sheer madness!" Mike exclaimed, his being alight with a tumultuous fervor, while deep within him, a voice whispered that this moment eclipsed even the grandeur of his commencement celebration.
"Well, perchance all this be naught but a grand folly we engage in, dost thou not agree?" She settled upon a chair at the kitchen table, carefully placing Mike upon the very edge. "But mark thee well, little Mike, the chocolate played no part in this."
