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Thanks to a certain kitsune, I've had an awful lot of thoughts lately about the feet of a giant. Specifically, of being quite small and in the presence of someone like that. There's no malice or anything involved. It's a curious sort of mutual relationship, in which he wants to be the big, powerful creature and I get to enjoy being the small, powerless one that is subject to his most casual of whims.

Even relatively simple actions become an event. Him just sitting down and propping his feet up is still an act that demands attention, as the outside of his shoes are presented to a tiny onlooker. All the little bits of dirt, bugs perhaps bigger than I am, all embedded in those treads, never to grace the feet within. Another movement, and that shoe could be quickly shoved in my face, used to pin me down, or simply reduce me to yet another bit of debris on his footwear. But instead, I'm allowed to witness him taking those shoes off.

It is, of course, up to him to decide when his shoes come off. I certainly couldn't undo those laces myself if I tried; a simple knot for him to do and undo is far tighter than I could hope to work loose myself. Instead, I can only watch and wait, until he casually slides them off. This is, naturally, accompanied by a wave of heat, humidity, and scent. It's intoxicating, in its own way, and just one of the gifts a micro gets to enjoy when beneath a larger being. Those socks are well-worn, yet the threads still hold together. The once-white fabric is instead heavily darkened from the use, nearly black in the places that bear the most brunt of his steps. Through the fabric, it's possible to see the outline of his feet, as just a sense of what is to come next.

Lelou wears double socks, a trait that originally seemed curious but now makes sense. Those outer socks are, in a way, sacrificial. They're valued, but also useful for protecting the second pair of socks within. Slowly, he reaches down to peel off the white socks and the inner, grey socks are revealed. Those grey socks have seen far more use yet they're remarkably well preserved. They look nearly new, but they're damp with sweat after a long day's use, to say nothing of the scent that has built up over an even longer time. By now, the scent has seemingly saturated the air around me. It's not unpleasant, just potent, but the potency is still remarkable.

Some micros would worship those socks. Some would throw themselves at that damp fabric, nuzzle in against it, or attempt to climb it to reach the summit at his toes. I can't blame them, of course. I can't blame anyone who wants to get closer to a god, and his feet are indeed divine in their beauty and power. A few micros are even fortunate enough to end up inside those inner socks, as if diving into the inner sanctum of a cathedral. They're able to indulge in a day of being beneath his toes, basted in his sweat, and basking in his warmth. They experience every step he takes, his weight bearing down on them; if they aren't at the base of his toes, that weight would be their end, possibly without him even noticing. Perhaps one day I'll have that experience within his socks. But, today, I have a different opportunity.

I instead get to be on the ground, beneath him, useful as a contrast to his body. He's able to tower above and his body commands attention. His feet alone have changed the atmosphere around me, given that every breath is full of their scent. I, meanwhile, am left looking up as his feet rest on their heels, toes pointed to the ceiling. Those feet are like skyscrapers, but far more enticing than any mere architectural wonder. They're entirely natural and it is truly a natural wonder to behold.

Eventually, it is time for those remaining socks to come off. Once again, a simple movement of his fingers or toes can pull those socks off. A trivial act for him and a truly impossible one for me. His bare feet are now revealed in all their splendor. His skin is damp with sweat, faintly glistening in the light of the room. A few bits of sock lint are strewn here and there, especially nearer his toes, but otherwise his soles are immaculate. After a short pause, his foot lowers towards me. I reflexively step back - it is hard not to fear the movements of something so large - but he instead rests his foot flat on the floor with his toes just a short way in front of me.

I move in slowly. I don't need to wait for a command; the mere display is enough to make the orders clear. I step forward and kneel down before his largest toe. The act of kneeling is entirely symbolic, given that his smallest toe is about the size of my body, but it just seems fitting to make myself even lower and show reverence. I pause there for a long moment before leaning forward to kiss his toe, allowing me a taste of his sweat. I want more - I need more - but there is more to be done first. It's more appropriate to help with his needs before fixating on my own base urges.

Between his two largest toes, I notice a small fleck of sock lint. Once again I don't wait for a command. I know what should be done. Quietly, I drop to all fours and crawl forward, just like any other bug might do around the feet of a larger being. I move in between his toes, towards that bit of debris stuck to his skin. Once it's in reach, I don't hesitate before eating it, indulging in the perverse honor of cleaning a god's feet. To some, it would be a disgusting act; to me, it is simply delighting in being a toy who relishes in being made to feel so insignificant. Being allowed a dinner that is nothing more than sweat-soaked cotton stuck to damp skin just reinforces that role.

What comes next is, as ever, at Lelou's discretion. Perhaps I'd be allowed to continue working deeper between his toes. Perhaps I'm destined to spend time at his heels. Or perhaps I simply take my leave and rest in his discarded socks, torn between hoping he notices me before putting them on and hoping he doesn't notice me so I fall inside them. Such musings are just a distraction for me, though. I am at his feet. They are the only thing I need to think about. And I am thankful to be relieved of the need to think of anything other than tending to and enjoying those massive, powerful, perfectly-maintained feet.