The Opportunity (2025) (Patreon)

A hot new bombshell has entered the villa.Written by the incredible Mysterion1800, The Opportunity is the fifth story in our Father’s Day week.

You can find Mysterion1800 here:X: https://x.com/Mysterion1800?s=20Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/mysterion1800/

Barry was already under the covers when he heard a knock on his bedroom door.

“Come in,” he called out as he placed his smartphone on his nightstand.

The handle turned, and the door swung open to reveal his tired father, Scott, clad only in boxers and his glasses, standing in the doorframe.

“Hey, kid,” Scott managed to say through a yawn.

“What’s up, Dad?” Barry asked, befuddled as evening visits from his father had become increasingly irregular since he turned ten, which was almost a decade ago now.

“Look, I forgot to mention something during dinner tonight,” replied his father, scratching the back of his neck nonchalantly. “I need you to get up early tomorrow.”

Barry’s brow furrowed. Being eighteen, getting up early on a Saturday while still in school was the equivalent of being asked to hack off a limb.

“What? Why?”

Scott continued scratching his neck, clearly expecting some resistance from his son.

“Since your Mom’s out of town, I need someone to help me with my workout. You know, hold my feet down as I do pullups. That kind of thing.”

Barry did not respond. His face had gone blank, but was now suddenly flushed. Scott quirked an eyebrow.

“Something wrong, kiddo?”

“N-no. N-not at all, Dad,” Barry stammered. “I can get up early and help you out.”

Scott tilted his head slightly, still evidently not sure what to make of his son’s quick change of stance on getting up early, let alone why his son was blushing at the thought.

“Really? Are you sure you’re okay with it?”

Barry nodded. “Yeah, of course. Just this time, right?”

“Yup,” Scott replied as he reached for the door handle, choosing to ignore his son’s strange response, at least for the time being. “I’ll need you up by six thirty. Set your alarm if you have to.”

Barry nodded again. “Don’t worry, Dad. I will.”

“Alright. Cool,” Scott said plainly, fatigue washing over him now that he had his son’s confirmation. He started walking backwards, pulling the door closed with him. “Good night, I love you, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Same. Love you, Dad,” Barry bleated out just as his father shut his bedroom door all the way.

Barry then waited, listening to his father’s footsteps fade away down the hall as he headed towards his own bedroom. When the slapping of his father’s bare feet on the hardwood floor was finally no longer audible to his ears, Barry hurriedly grabbed his smartphone off his nightstand and began to set his alarm clock, his mind racing. 

Barry had kept many secrets from his parents over the years. That he was interested in men, not women. That he had a foot fetish to the point that he liked little else on a man’s body above his feet. That ever since he was little, his father’s feet were the first pair he had ever been armored with. And, perhaps his biggest secret that he would most definitely take to the grave, that his admiration of his father’s feet had never waned.

Barry had dreamt of this moment. An opportunity to get closer to his father’s feet without having to put any of his secrets in jeopardy. The thought made Barry swoon, so much so that he accidentally set his alarm for six twenty instead of six thirty.

As he set his smartphone back down on his nightstand, however, another thought ate at Barry’s brain. What if he wasn’t able to control himself while helping with his father’s workout? He normally kept his attraction to his father’s feet under control, but being that close? Would his own body betray him? Would he get aroused and have no way of hiding it from his father?

Shuddering from fear as much as excitement, Barry leaned over and turned off the light on his nightstand before lying down in bed, trying his best to block out his concerns with his fantasies. Both kept him up for the next two hours straight.

Barry awoke to the gentle yet loud sound of metallic chimes emitting from his smartphone. Groggily, he reached out and grabbed it before silencing it. Through bleary eyes, Barry noticed that the time was sixty twenty and not sixty thirty as he intended, causing him to curse under his breath. Regardless, even if his father wasn’t up, he soon would be, and there was no point staying in bed another ten minutes. With a huff, Barry sat up, swung his legs over the bed, stood up, and made his way over to his closet.

As he got dressed, Barry suddenly remembered what he was about to do, and the excitement and fear that coursed through before his mind and body finally gave way to sleep. However, he tried to swallow both emotions down, not wanting either to overpower the other.

Once he was dressed in a slightly worn T-shirt and a pair of sports shorts, Barry left his room and stepped out into the hall. The rest of the house was dark, so his father had indeed not woken up yet. 

Hoping to use this extra time to cool his mind off, Barry walked into the living room and towards the couch. He was still about half the room away from sitting on it when it suddenly felt as if a bucket of warm water was dumped over his head. Barry opened his mouth to say something aloud, but no words came out as his eyes immediately drooped, and his whole body felt as if it was in freefall.

For the second time in what felt like less than five minutes, Barry awoke, mind and vision even foggier than they were the first time he came to. Beneath him, however, was not his mattress, but the hardwood floorboards he could tell were the ones laid in the living room.

As he opened his eyes, which, for now, yielded only fuzzy shapes, he could hear the distant noise of what sounded like machinery operating in a construction site. He could even feel the floor beneath vibrate every now and again, as if an aftershock from some pounding implement slamming into the ground were rattling his family’s apartment.

Eyes slowly gaining focus, Barry picked himself off the floor, now noticing his body ached as if he had fallen from a decent height. As he stood up, he thought he should probably call out to his father, seeing as how healthy men as young as him didn’t tend to pass out for any good reason.

“Dad?” He said in a drawn-out manner, as if he were eight years old again.

Barry had expected to hear his voice bounce off the walls as it normally did, let alone a reply from his father confirming he had heard his son beckon him. However, Barry heard nothing. His father did not reply, and the voice had faded into the aether as if the nearest walls were miles away.

“Dad?” Barry tried again, blinking a few times to conjure clearer sight.

Barry heard nothing again, except for the aforementioned sound of something large at work in the distance. However, that mattered little as his eyes had finally cooperated and shown him his living room. 

Barry’s mouth hung open in shock. It was as if everything in the room was out of scale. Every piece of furniture was as tall as a skyscraper. The kitchen counter loomed like a mountain range in the distance. Everything looked as if it had grown overnight. 

Except it hadn’t. Barry looked down at his own body, which looked completely normal. Barring the fact, of course, that it was he who had shrunk to the size of an ant, not the furniture that had grown tall.

“What the fucking shit?” Barry cried softly, running his hands all over his torso as if that would somehow reverse what had just happened to him.

Barry’s knees then started to buckle again as the vibrations from earlier suddenly became rhythmic as well as louder and more intense as the seconds ticked by. Something large was coming. Or rather someone.

“BARRY? YOU UP?”

The voice had called out softly,yet it was as loud as a clap of strong thunder and shook Barry to his very core.

Barry whipped around, knowing what the source of the voice was, but still dreading to see it. Standing over the threshold was his father, Scott, also wearing a pair of sports shorts and a tanktop. He was barefoot too, as Barry had originally hoped he would be. There was, however, no overlooking the fact that his father was now the size of a god. 

Barry’s mouth hung open again. He was rendered speechless by his father’s appearance. He stood there gazing at his titan of a father as he scanned the room for his son, not knowing his son was there, but the size of a common termite. Barry’s stupefied ogling of his father then slowly moved downwards to his father’s slightly calloused bare feet, which were the size of buses and could likely reduce anything Barry’s size to nothing. 

It was only when Barry found his hand also gradually making its way towards his crotch that he snapped out of his stupor. His head immediately tipped down, where he saw a bulge fighting to get out of his polyester shorts.

“Fuck! Not now!” Barry yelled as he blushed furiously, trying to think of anything other than his giant father’s bare feet, which were hard to forget given his predicament.

Scott, meanwhile, having not seen his son in either the living room or the kitchen, turned his head backward towards the hall, specifically at his son’s bedroom door. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped himself before sighing.

“WELL, I DID SPRING THIS ON HIM AT THE LAST MINUTE,” He said, capitulating to the situation. “I’LL JUST LET HIM SLEEP IN.”

Scott sighed a second time before reverting his attention back to the living room. He then started walking towards the most open area of the room where he exercised every morning, which just happened to be the very same place his diminutive son had been left stranded on the floor.

Barry waved his hands frankly as his Adonis of a father approached, doing his damndest to ignore his erection that had not subsided.

“Dad! I’m down here! Please! You gotta see me!”

But Scott couldn’t care less about what was on the floor, especially considering he hadn’t seen or heard his termite of a son at all. 

Despite this, to Barry’s relief, his father stopped suddenly about a football field’s length away from him, though he wasn’t sure why at first. Scott then turned his body towards the back wall of the living room before bending over and reaching his muscular arms out to touch the floor. It then occurred to Barry that his father was stretching before his workout, which made perfect sense.

However, Barry had no further time to reflect on the quality of his father’s gym prep, as the moment Scott’s hands made contact with the hardwood floor, Scott pressed all his weight down onto his hands and extended his legs to their fullest extent to stretch the muscles in his lower appendages. As a result, with the speed of a bullet, his right foot suddenly slammed down barely an inch away from his shrunken son. 

The force of his father’s foot slamming down right in front of him threw Barry backwards several yards, leaving him as dazed as he was when he first passed out. When Barry came back to his senses, however, it did not take much time for him to process the fact that his father almost turned him into a smear under the same bare foot he secretly pined for.

For a moment, Barry sat up and stared into the near distance at his giant, unaware father as he stretched. He knew from experience that his father held that position for at least a minute. A tear escaped his left eye as the gravity of the situation continued to bear down on him. 

However, as he gazed at his father’s left foot ahead of him, Barry suddenly remembered his involuntary erection from earlier and decided to inspect it again. It still hadn’t gone down. He then looked back up at his father’s foot and only felt himself become more and more aroused. As if to cope with his situation, the wrong kind of gears began turning in Barry’s mind, throwing away all rationality to the wind and letting hunger take complete control.

“If I’m this small,” He said under his breath, though his father couldn’t hear him. “I can do more than just touch and admire Dad’s feet. I could do anything. And Dad would never know.”

The next thing Barry knew, he had gotten off his rear and run towards his father’s bare foot like a man starved of water for several days. When he reached the side of his father’s foot, he quickly ran his small hand across the leathery skin, still fresh with the strong scent of sweat from his father’s last shift.

Barry then looked up at his father to clarify that he had felt nothing. Scott remained fully impassive. Smiling perhaps the broadest grin he had ever made in his life, Barry stuck out his tongue and began to decorate the side of his father’s foot and whatever inch of sole he could reach with devoted licks.

Barry poured out every ounce of energy he had kept locked up inside since early puberty. All those taboo fantasies mixed in with his appreciation for his father being there and supporting him throughout his life blended into a perverse joy that no high from any drug could match. As the taste of his father’s calloused skin and sour sweat danced across his tongue and down his throat, Barry could only conclude that his shrinkage had not been some bad twist of fate, but a gift from some deity above. 

That was at least what Barry thought until his father stood back up, brought his right foot closer to his left, and moved his left foot ever so slightly sideways, right on top of his devoted worshipper. His euphoria had been ripped from him so fast that it took Barry several seconds to realize that every single bone in his body was in extreme agony and that his own blood was steadily pooling beneath him.

“WHAT THE?” 

For the first time all morning, Scott had finally realized that something small had been on the floor at his feet. He lifted his bare foot off the floor and saw the mangled, twitching remains of what looked like a tiny insect.

As his father looked down at him with disgust, embarrassment and shame quickly started to rival the excruciating pain Barry was now feeling. He didn’t just feel like a squashed insect. He felt like the biggest pervert on planet Earth.

“D-d-daddy,” Barry splurted through flooding lungs. “I-I-I’m s-sorry. I j-j-j-just wan-wanted to see y-your f-f-feet.”

Scott merely sighed in revulsion and annoyance. “FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT.”

Then, Scott brought his foot back down onto his son’s body. Hard. Barry’s consciousness went from bright to dim almost instantly and was just as quickly extinguished as his father began grinding his son’s corpse into the hardwood floor like a cigarette.

“BUGS HAVE NO FUCKING BUSINESS IN MY HOUSE.”

After that, Scott didn’t even bother wiping his sole on the carpet to rid himself of the bug’s remains stuck to his foot, knowing it would be reduced to nothing after his routine. He just sat down, bent his knees so his bare soles were flat on the ground, and leaned backwards until his back was parallel with the floor, getting himself ready to do some situps. As he completed the first set, he made a mental note to himself that these situps would’ve been easier had Barry been up to hold his feet in place as he had asked.