Before anyone asks me, yes I am one of those self-proclaimed therapist that has absolutely no diploma on the matter that actually offers services to women that are so desperate and lack self-esteem that they are ready to pay for the services of a professional to help them. Yes. Don’t start judging me, I consider I have succeeded in life and I am now rich enough and happy to live a passionate life. On a side note, I do have diplomas in micro-biology, applied physics and bio-engineering. I have invented and patented the first working shrink-ray for inorganic materials 10 years ago, and became insanely rich.

However I spent most of my patent money in developing in secret a Shrink ray for organic and living cells and I am now the only person on the planet who can shrink himself to any height and unshrink back to my normal self without any damage. Amazing right? Yeah, it’s even better: the shrinking process makes all the cells of my body so dense that I become almost as hard a rock and my metabolism works slower proportionally to how smaller I become compared to my normal size.

Why would I invent such a thing? Well, honestly, since childhood, I’ve been one of the most hardcore women’s feet and shoes fetishist the world has created. I have always pursued the dream of living a life surrounded by female feet and shoes and breathe in their aroma 24/7. And today, as of now, it is my life, I have achieved my biggest dream and instead of being ashamed of it I prefer to be proud and make sure it profits to others as well.

How? Well I started a business, secret since I ask all my clients to sign a disclaimer to keep it that way. I am now a Self-esteem generator and for a considerable amount of money, women and even sometimes girls can experiment something so unique that it empowers them, it makes them feel good and build up self-esteem. Basically, they pay me, and then I shrink myself and they wear me in their shoes for a specified amount of time, depending on what plan they chose.

Yep. And it works. I have many clients. Even known and famous women. Having me down there inside their shoes make them feel like a goddess and they always feel better when we’re over with the “therapy”. Some come every week, some only need it once, some just come back because they get sexually excited by it, some are freaks, and others are shy, desperate, name it, I have all sorts of clients and I do not judge their reason to come see me. As long as they pay, they can wear a tiny, living man inside their shoes for whatever amount of time they want.

I don’t need advertisement, I only have business cards and I hand them out here and there to women I suspect would benefit from my services. It works the same for 99% of women. First they are skeptical because the business card only says “self-esteem generator” and has my phone number on it. Then, they get intrigued and they call. We meet at my house, a large million-dollar home on a cliff, the kind of home you find in design magazines. I have them sign a disclaimer to keep everything secret or else I sue them for real before I explain what the concept is all about. Then, they think it’s fucking weird when they get to understand that I am actually offering them to pay for me to shrink myself and stay in their shoes while they go about doing whatever they want for some time. I go like “you want to wear me for a day at work? Good. Want to wear me while you do your jogging? No problem. You want me to lick your feet? No problem. Rollerblade? Soccer? You want to go shopping? All good. You want to leave me on the ground and crush me like a cigarette? Fine! You want me to help your daughter get self-esteem? No problem put me in her shoes! Want me to clean your shoes? I’ll do it. But I tell you, you’ll feel like the goddess that you are and deserve to be. ” That last sentence is catchy and works most of the time. They blush and go like “oh please...” All in all, there is a fee for all of those things. Then, again, those 99% women think I am crazy, but the seed is planted. They think about it. Some of them are ready to try, others need time to think and then they call back days later for an appointment. Some are disgusted, and never call again. Business as usual. Results guaranteed. All women who wore me in their shoes just once, told me it was the best thing that could have happened to their sad miserable lives.

But then, there is 1% chance things do not work like that. That 1% is the kind of woman who gets me in trouble.

That 1% chance happened to me a few months ago, and I am going to tell you about her. I will try to make it short, but, in order to tell that story I’ll need to put in some details about other women as well since nothing happens for nothing.

That 1%'s name is Cassandra. 

(to be continued)

It was a typical Monday morning. I was with my first customer, the teenage daughter of a wealthy business man. Spoiled young, yet sent to public school for her to learn “normal life” the girl who I will name Rebecca to protect her identity grew up trying to avoid people who knew her family was rich. Yet at some point everyone knew and she’s been bullied and treated like an outsider during high school. At age 16, she did not have many friends and would be what you would call an introvert. She thinks she’s got no talent, no passions, no hobbies, no future and that she has always lived in the shadow of her father’s wealth and that this is the only thing she got, money. Frankly, Rebecca is not a happy girl, she hates herself.

Black hair, deep black makeup on her eyes, she could also be described as a gothic punk girl, yet she’s not that much into it. She mostly prefers to be unseen, unnoticed, and she enjoys being lonely. But, she’s a true artist. She paints and draws anything with ease and talent. She loves being alone and perfect her art. She could be a Hollywood screenplay concept artist, but she keeps thinking what she does is worth crap. I met her dad, and when I found out about her, I gave my business card to her mother who basically forces her to come see me. I’ve been in her shoes a few times already. She thinks having me in her shoes feel like torturing someone helpless and she likes it but won’t go crazy about it. She told me after our first encounters that it felt nice since it was like some kind of vengeance for all those years being bullied by others.

Rebecca arrived at 9 AM with her mother. She looked at me and popped a bubble with her gum. “Hi.” She said with a shy smile when I opened the door.

“Good morning Rebecca, please come in!” Both mother and daughter walked in. “How are you today?” I asked.

“Normal.” She said.

“How normal?” I asked playfully.

“Like every other days.” She said nonchalantly, following me to the therapy room.

“Hmm, and what’s our plan for this morning, are you going to paint me something?” I asked.

“Yeah okay.” She said and shrugged. Her mother smiled at me and talked to her daughter telling her she would pick her up by noon. My clients always give me their credit card number before any therapy or their bank account. I have developed a billing software that calculates how much time I spend with them, and then automatically bills them. Mom left, I prepared the shrink ray portable device. That device is a marvel of technology since I shrink the remote control along. I always stay in control of my own size I wouldn’t want to fall into wrong hands. I can grow back up whenever I want.

I like clients like Rebecca because she enjoys using my lab. I call it the lab, but it’s mostly a therapy room where everything is possible. There is TV, sofas, chairs, a fridge with refreshments, good quality speakers and sound system, there is place to move. There is a cupboard with lots of crafting stuff like paint, pencils, canvas, paper, anything you need to draw, write. There is a computer. A treadmill and weights, yoga mats anything one needs to get something done, while having me inside their shoes. The lab is my therapy room. Some clients prefer to go out with me in the wild world. That costs more. Rebecca enjoys the lab. When I shrink myself, I wear some lycra clothes that fits on my body, something like a wetsuit but thinner, it’s more comfortable for the women.

Like usual when Rebecca arrived I had prepped the lab accordingly and placed acrylic paint and canvas ready for her just to sit down and paint something. I treat my clients with great service. I am not successful for nothing.

Rebecca looked at me and I knew her well enough to sense she was shy, but that goes away quickly usually. “So, hmm, I hope it’s alright if I wear my skate shoes.” She wore black skate shoes with pink soles and well, to be honest she’s been wearing those on all of our encounters so far...so for me it’s a no brainer.

“You have the right to wear what you want Rebecca. As long as you are comfortable and feel good. Do you like high heels?” I said while preparing myself to shrink.

“No, those are for the superficial girls.” She said while she sat looking at the empty canvas.

“Well, anyone can feel free to wear what they want I think. Those girls enjoy high-heels and it's alright. You like skate shoes and it's also alright.” I tried to make her feel good.

“You’re right. Anyway, so hmm, what do you want me to paint?”

“An auto-portrait. Paint yourself.” I asked.

“Okay. I can try that.” She said while removing her right skate sneaker off with the toe of the other foot. She wore black and white striped socks. “Do you like my socks?” she asked biting her lower lip.

“I do Rebecca they’re lovely!” I told her. “Alright, I’ll shrink myself now. Just put me in your shoe and take me out at 11h50 so we can talk a bit before your mother picks you up, alright?”

“Yes. Oh and remember, don’t move. I need to concentrate and I hate when I lose my focus.” She asked. This is the focal point of the therapy with Rebecca. You see, in order to get her to develop self-esteem, I have to challenge her, I have to make her a bit upset in order to challenge her and build up her confidence.

“I’ll do my best.” I said, and zapped the shrinking device on myself. Shrinking isn’t really fun, I black out after 20 seconds. The whole process lasts 1 minute-ish when I shrink myself to one inch tall. I wake up when I reach the size indicated on the shrinking device, which also shrinks with me. I secured the device in my side pocket and looked up.

Rebecca looked down at me and smiled. “It is always amazing to see this. You’re so small. She comes closer holding her shoe in one hand and picks me up with her giant fingers. “Are you sure about this?” she asks me.

Being very small, I need to really scream for her to hear me so I just nod for her to understand this is why her mother pays me. And this is not cheap. I could live a whole month for 3 hours of therapy like that morning. Rebecca smiles and sighs.

“Anyway, this is weird. Have fun with my foot and don't move.” She says as she drops me gently on the warm surface of her sneaker’s fabric insole. I know that specific shoe since I’ve been in there a few times. It’s a normal skate shoe belonging to a teenage girl. In real time, I had no time to look at the surroundings, I only had time to duck and lay down on my back fast as she did put the shoe on the ground and then inserted her striped socked foot into the shoe and onto me. Her foot took all the available space, pushing me down and pinning me down under its massive weight. I rested on my back under the arch of her foot.

Tho even if it all happened fast, since I stayed in that shoe for almost 3 hours I think it would be interesting for you to know more about those “normal skate shoes”. Brand is Etnies. Black shoe with pink accents like the sole of the shoe is all pink. Some patterns are pink too. The insides are all black, logos faded on the insole as those shoes have been worn many times. Sock lint of multiple colors are stuck in the inshoe’s fabric, usually not seen by the regular eye, but up close like when you are shrunk and standing inside of the shoe, you can see all those small details. The insole has Rebecca’s foot shape beveled into it. The whole environment is quite dark and uninviting but something, for me, as a really deep rooted foot and shoe fetishist, is quite appealing. The smell.

When you stick your nose into a woman’s shoe, usually you get all the subtle aromas and mixed sources of smell all at once into your nostrils and that complex odor can be the source of ultimate joy for someone like me. However, when you’re shrunk and plucked inside said shoes, all of those odors come to your nostrils sometimes mixed and sometimes separated. It’s mostly like entering someone’s house, if you go in the kitchen it smells like spagetthi sauce cooking and when you go into their bedroom it smells like flowers etc. Same concept happens in someone’s shoe. For instance, when you bury your face in the insole where the person’s heel goes, it smells different then when you bury your face where their toes rest. I have some clients who have extremely smelly feet and shoes, some less. No shoe is a like another, I have yet to find two which smell the same. Down in people’s shoe, I am a scientist. I analyse. My sense of smell gets overwhelmed; my mind goes racing to identify the faint and details of each aroma. Leather, cotton, foam, rubber, dirt, foot sweat, dried foot sweat, damp heated foot sweat, dried skin, body lotions and soap, perfumes, foot sweat again. Is it musky? Is it a bit salty? All of those powerful odors rush into my nose and I get excited as fuck.

Rebecca’s feet smell like heaven, hard to describe, even maybe pointless.

And down there under the arched socked sole of her foot, inside her shoe, time went slower and my mind calmed as the artist above me started to paint. I could feel her heartbeat, the blood flow in the veins of her foot pressing me down into the insole. I love my job.

After an hour of projected ecstacy in my head, and I knew my break was over and I had to get back to work. Build up that girl’s self-esteem and make a name of myself and prove that paying for my services is worth it. I started to squirm a bit at first. No reaction. I squirmed some more and heard my client’s voice muffled from outside the shoe. “Stop moving down there!” Good, that’s it, I had to get herself to be confident enough. I had to challenge her so she would go over her normal self. I had to get the bully out of herself and be her victim. I squirmed some more.

All of a sudden, I could feel my whole environment move and then the massive foot above me went sliding off and out of the shoe, bringing in fresh cool air inside the thick sneakers. I stretched and moved my arms and muscles as my eyes would get used to the sudden burst of light from the outside. “Hmm, I am sorry to disturb you, but like, you really have to stop squirming in there because I lose my focus. Please? You did that the other day too, and I told you not to. It’s just very annoying when I am painting. Okay?” I nodded, knowing she wouldn’t hear me. But that wasn’t enough, she was still too easy on me. Still asking me if I could “pretty please” stop moving. No. I still had work to do to get her to be mad at me. She smiled back at me and said thanks. Seconds later, the huge striped socked foot came over me again, this time trapping me under her toes and driving me along the insole. She kept me under her toes until the whole foot was inside the shoe and wiggled the cotton fabric covered toes above me. I had more space to move.

I stayed put for like 20 minutes again overwhelmed by the sudden increase of smells and aromas around me. Some of my clients are more kinky, poor Rebecca was not. I had to be nice, even if her feet really smelled like heaven I had to focus too and keep working and figth the urge to lick the sock or outright eat her sock lint.

I squirmed, this time to turn my body. I turned to lay on my sides and made exaggerated moves to get her attention, hopefully to make her lose her focus and challenge her. I heard my name above, muffled by the shoe. I knew she was getting impatient, just with the tone of her voice. So I moved again, and laid on my back again under her huge socked covered toes. I had the sock fabric all over my face and body. I heard my name again, this time she was almost pissed. I knew I was on the right track and that deep inside the seed of self-confidence was planted. I deliberately wanted her to punish me for disobeying her.

“Stop moving or I stomp you.” She said.

Ah, now we were talking business. I stopped moving a moment, not to blow the evident fact I was deliberately trying to piss her off. But I resumed the squirming after 10 minutes. This time I heard her grumble and she did something unexpected. She arched her foot and it freed me from the pressure. She then rested the shoe on the heel and I went sliding under her foot onto the insole as gravity pulled me towards the heel section of her shoe. I could feel her foot was raised partly outside the shoe leaving half an inch space under it. I slid down until I reached the heel section and gently crashed in the corner. Rebecca then replaced her foot pinning me down under the heel. Now, that’s less comfortable, really. Heels are unforgiving. I was on my back, my head turned on its side, totally crushed and sinking into the foamy insole. But the pressure went up drastically and I could only suspect she stood up on me, pushing me down. “I said stop moving!” I heard the chair move, and she started to walk. Huge pressure, relief, huge pressure, relief. Yes, that’s more like it. I love being walked on. I absolutely bathe in pleasure both from the motion and from the pressure, but also because her foot became more warm and usually that comes with a bit of sweat. Tho, I knew Rebecca would not sweat much, she only went to get a soda from the fridge and came back to sit in from of her canvas and resume painting. I have clients who wear me for their jogging and I can tell you, that’s fucking awesome.

Anyway back to Rebecca, I can tell she’s soft on me. A lot of work is still to be done in order to get her self-esteem and self-confidence to acceptable levels. I aim to one day get her to crush me under her shoes like cigarette while insulting and degrading me with humiliating words. But, one can dream, we’re not there yet.

I stayed put under the crushing weight of her heel, even if she was only sitting. But, like a little devil, I resumed therapy by squirming again. BAM! She stomped down on me. Yeah, that feels good. I kept squirming. BAM, she stomped again. That’s it, stomp me down, crush me, be angry make me suffer. BAM!

And then something happened. She stood and and stomped me several times in a row, harder and harder. She snapped. “Stop fucking moving!” she screamed above me and stomped some more. “Stop it will you? Huh? Can’t you understand English?” Stomp. “Stop.” Stomp. “Fucking.” Stomp. “Squirming!” Stomp.

Ow. I saw stars. I had done it for the day. By making her angry at me to this point I knew deep inside her the seed of self-confidence and self-esteem was growing. Job done. Now I only had to relax until she would get me out of her shoe.

I stayed there under her heel trapped into that compressed position for the remainder of the therapy until she finally got me out of her shoe. She ceremoniously flipped the shoe upside down and I fell face first on the floor or the Lab. Rebecca was more calm. I took out my portable device and grew up back up to my normal size and went to the sink to splash my face with cold water.

“I am sorry.” She said.

“Oh, well, don’t be. I had it coming. I had a terrible itch that I could not scratch, I am the one being sorry.” I said to her. I walked to her canvas and looked at her quickly painted auto-portrait. It looked awesome, but it was unfinished.

“I kind of stomped you hard and you’re the one being sorry?” she asked me a bit oddly.

“Yeah well, it’s okay don’t worry about me, I am fine. You cannot possibly crush me when I am shrunk anyway, so don’t worry. I am just amazed at how you decided to do what you threatened me of. That took me by surprise. I didn’t know you were serious when you said you would stomp me.” I lied. Who cares? This is for therapy purposes. Deep inside myself I had a good time with my client. Everyone wins.

“Yeah, well, I am sorry.” She said again.

“Rebecca.... Don’t be sorry. Now don’t make me say it again.”

“Alright. So, hum, can you keep this painting so next time I can finish it?” she asked.

“Of course Rebecca. I’ll keep it safe for next time.” I smiled. Her mother had arrived right on time and it was time for goodbyes. Kuchling! Money was automatically transferred to my bank account, another satisfied customer. 

Don’t get me wrong. I love money. I also love female feet. I love female shoes and their smell and their shape and their textures, even their taste. Judging me and telling me about it by either trying to make me feel weird, or odd, or abnormal is, considering the gold mine I sit on, the express way to end up fearing me. I am a confident man. Some say over-confident, perhaps, but not foolish. And people who stand in my way end up 6 feet under. Only about that, you can judge me. I’ll tell you more about that, no worries.

I live my dream life. Why would I let anyone screw it?

I was somehow proud and happy about my job with Rebecca. She had made a lot of progress, her mother told me the other day that  her daughter is more happy in general, and less prompt to give up. She was becoming more social, more fun, more confident. You see, when you’re on my side: I am a helpful man, compassionate and selfless. I like helping these women. And I do sometimes make special discounts or favors to my oldest customers.

On my lunchtime, while preparing the lab and cleaning it for my next client, my cellphone vibrated. Text message. From Laura.

Laura: Hey. Press conference in 30min, stressed out. help?

You have to know Laura. She’s so funny. Laura is a great woman. She works as a spokesperson for a relatively interestingly sized international corporation. I met her she was single and shy. Today she’s married and can’t stop talking all the time. She’s good at it, made it her job. And as a spokesperson, she’s always moving around on a non-stop schedule. I am glad I helped her unlock her true potential in life when she needed it.

Now about that text message. Since we know each other for so long, that text message, I got like 50 of those over the years. Fact is, when Laura has to give a press conference she gets nervous. She’s in front of many people, mostly journalists and all those people literally try to squeeze her like a lemon for any piece of information that she has not told them. I admire their dedication even if I hate the nature of their job. To each their own. When you know how Laura is always on stressful job assignments, you know she has the powerful strength of easily managing stress. But when she texts me, it means she really needs help.

Me: Where?

Laura: City hall

Me: I’ll be there in 20min.

What wouldn’t I do for Laura? Anyway, I made sure the lab would be ready and I sprinted to my room to put on a pair of jeans and t-shirt over my lycra suit. Socks, boots, backpack, and ran down the stairs and to the garage, grabbing my helmet on my way there. I hopped on my Ducati and skipped a few red lights.

While driving there I couldn’t help but enjoy the relative but joyful pleasure of being alone in that bike helmet while speeding between cars on the freeway. I thought about Laura. Secretly I wished she would be wearing her black leather high heel pumps with silky black nylon thigh highs and her business suit, ponytail and cigarette. I quickly parked and ran to the backdoor of the city hall, knowing she would wait there for me.

When she saw me I could feel the look of relief even before we could exchange our first greetings.

“Good, Thanks. I owe you.” She said. She took a last deep drag of her cigarette and crushed it under the black leather high heel pumps that I secretly wished she would wear. I got a little butterfly in my stomach. Laura saw me looking. “Don’t get too excited.” She smirked and chuckled. Laura knows me.  “Come on, let’s go.” Laura walked inside the city hall and I followed. I noticed she did wear her black nylons but she got skirt and turtleneck, with a very long necklace. Nice earrings, bloody red lipstick and light makeup, brunette ponytail. Too bad for business suit. I shrugged, quite happy to help my friend.

She brought me in a secluded room. I removed my pants and t-shirt, revealing my lycra suit. Some of my customers call it my superhero suit. It’s just all black but clearly shows my body features. I just hate being naked.

“Thanks again. Shouldn’t last more than 1 hour.” She said.

“I have another appointment this afternoon, don’t go over an hour.” I answered back. She nodded and looked tensed. Since it takes one minute to shrink to 1 inch tall it takes slightly more to reach half an inch. That’s Laura’s preferred size. 1 minute 15 seconds is enough time for Laura to almost forget I was there and read her notes and try to memorize them for the press conference.  When I woke up, finally shrunk, I was already facing Laura’s pump’s opening. The shoe was on its side, already warm and humid, sending a powerful odor to my already teased nostrils. Laura’s feet smell good, good and powerful. I just hopped in the shoe. The 3 and a half inches heel did the rest as Laura ceremoniously tilted the shoe back upright with her foot. I slipped down the heel slope and reached the bottom of the shoe’s leather insole. Fractions of seconds later Laura was inserting her huge black nylon covered foot over me and inside her work shoes. Laura enjoys to pin me under the ball of her foot, right in the middle and before her toes. I was soon to be pressed under the part of her foot which absorbs most of her weight in high heels. Speaking of those heels, they must be quite old already, maybe a few years of everyday use.

There, that’s my dream life. Spend lunchtime giving confidence to my old stressed friend Laura while she’s out there standing behind the microphone to deliver an important message to journalists. Sometimes even live on important TV channels.

Laura was already walking on me, pressing her full weight on my tiny body at each step. Her foot was sweating. Laura likes when I lick, therefore I lick. Helping Laura like this for just an hour on lunchtime is something I always welcome. Laura doesn’t need me for her self-confidence on a daily basis or more deep therapy. She just needs me to be available in times of condensed stress moments or crisis. I knew she had not slept a single minute the last night, too stressed for the event. I licked her foot the best I could when my face was not just crushed in the wrinkles of her warm and humid skin. The nylon mesh is quite spaced out when you’re that small.

The movements stopped and I could feel steady intense weight on my body. She reached the  microphone and the muffled sounds of a busy room started to fade. Laura started talking to the medias, maybe 50 journalists and some invited people. I could hear her reading her text above me, confident, knowing I am under her foot. When Laura wears me, I always feel like a 12 volt battery plugged under her sole, sending her steady direct confidence current.

I just closed my eyes and endured the pressure. Irony got me and I realized that when I am full size, I look at women’s feet and imagine myself in their shoes, and how crushed and owned I would be, mercilessly crushed under those sexy legs, sexy body, sexy feet. When I am inside, I can’t help but imagine how, seen from the outside, nobody would ever suspect that the beautiful international corporation spokesperson would have a tiny half inch man crushed under her foot, inside those sexy pumps, breathing and licking the aromas of her foot while she gives a press conference. I love that irony.

So yeah, it’s easy to become philosophical and thoughtful when the sexy muffled voice of the incredibly beautiful woman torturing you come in and reach your ears like soothing music while you experience the excruciating pain of her weight crushing down on you. Speaking of irony, I couldn’t help to think at that precise moment, that my life’s greatest pleasures are humiliation related, just like my life’s greatest nightmares. How happy I am when humiliated at the feet of women, and how angry I am when that happiness is exposed and humiliates me publically. Life’s challenges.

My head started to spin. Laura’s speech was over she was answering journalists questions. Come on Laura, you can do it.

Finally, Laura walked again. That mean she was exiting the conference room and walked away to find lone time to rest and free me. I absolutely love how that woman walks. Her sure steps in those high heels are impressive. The muscles of her feet and legs working in unison all over me. That feeling when she steps down and crushes me heavily, her whole gigantic body shifting weight on me until it’s all over it, ready to lift suddenly for the next step. And again. Twice per second, maybe, hard to tell. She walked with such confidence. Really, I was doing her a favor and loved every second of it. Times goes fast when you’re having fun. Even painful fun.  

When done, she removed her foot from me, I almost stuck to it but managed to tumble on the shoe’s insole. Fresh cool air came in, and I realized we were back in the room where I shrank myself.

“Whew!” Laura kicked her shoe gently so it would tilt and fall on its side. She prefers not touching me at all with anything but her feet. For all the years I have known her, she would always have me walk in and out of her shoe by myself, never picking me up with her fingers. I walked out and got my shrink ray device. Shot myself with it, and grew back up. Laura looked at me and smiled, putting her shoe back on. She smiled.  “Thank you, you don’t know how much you saved my life again.” She said. “I am in a hurry, bill works as usual?”

“Yeah.” I chuckled. “I should charge you double rate for that.” Laura rolled her eyes and started to walk away. “I’m kidding, go, I’ll find my way out.” Laura thanked me again and left to join her coworkers and the mayor and the CEO and everyone else. All I could hear is the harmonic sound of her heels clicking on the floor and fading away.  Another satisfied customer. 

Some of my clients don’t like feeling me under their feet. That is the case of Melany, my client on that Monday afternoon. Melany’s been raped and she had a terrible childhood. Everything is quite in order nowadays since the criminal is in jail and she’s been getting a lot of money out of the trial, yet, she’s traumatized for life. Being mid 20’s, Melany hires me, like most of my clients, to feel better. She likes the idea of torturing a man, and gets some pleasure out of it.

But she hates feeling my body under her foot. In fact what she enjoys most is “knowing” that I am inside her shoes, but she doesn’t want to feel me because it distracts her and she’s quite ticklish too. The simple idea of having a tiny man in her shoe is enough, having him there for real makes her feel powerful and happy and she gets a lot of self-confidence. So, with her, we convened that me being the size of 1/32 inch would be perfect.

Let me tell you straight away. It’s fucking small. I know it’s perfectly safe, but when I see Melany I always need mental preparation because everything is so huge that’s it’s hard for the normal human brain to comprehend.

Melany is finishing a finance master’s degree in a known state university. She pays me with money she invested in a fund that generates enough return on investment to only use the interests as payment, so basically, the richer you are, the lesser things cost. Pretty clever.

Melany, pretty much like my morning client Rebecca, enjoys using my lab so for me it’s nice, she comes to my place and studies. Melany is also a bit of a recluse and, somehow her mind stayed in year 2000, I mean, she dresses like year 2000 fashion. I like that, tho, since fashion from that era is hard to find nowadays –especially the shoes- , she mostly buys her shoes on Ebay or Etsy. Second hand. One of her hobby in fact, is to bid on used platform shoes from year 2000 on Ebay and augment her collection. Sometimes she pays fortunes for those shoes that were, back then, common, thanks to the spice girls and stuff. So basically, when she comes to see me I never know what shoes she’s going to wear and honestly since I’ve known her, she always had a different pair each time. That being said, I also never know what her feet will smell, but, this is part of the fun, she’s like a surprise each time, since her shoes all have their previous owner’s odor mixed with her own. Always fun to anticipate and discover new smells if you want my opinion.

 Melany arrived at my place showing a beautiful smile. Her long brown hair with blonde stripes flowed off on her black turtleneck. She wore used jeans and some platform sneakers I had never seen before.

“Hey Melany, Come in!”

“Hi, look what I got last week!” she said pointing to her white and orange funky shoes that looked heavy. They were all white with orange accents, even the thick sole was white with orange accents.

“What are those?”

“Buffalo shoes, you know about them? I go them shipped from Europe. They were a bit trashed went they arrived, probably belonged to some German rave girl or something. Aren’t they nice?” Melany looked excited.

“They do!, but please don’t tell me you’ll wear them in your business meetings.” I said, we both laughed. We walked in the Lab and Melany set her backpack on the big table.

“You look terrible, what kind of day are you having?” she asked me.

“Oh well you know, I had a client this morning, then emergency call during lunchtime and now you for the afternoon and I have a client after dinner tonight. She wants to go clubbing.” I explained.

“Man you’re tough. You’re spending your whole day inside girl’s shoes?”

“Yep!”

“Really, I don’t know how you can enjoy this.” Said Melany.

“Well it’s my job, and, you know, I make a good living. It’s not too bad either, I mean what’s a full day inside shoes when in the end I make more money than a normal person’s monthly salary.”

“Fuck yeah, you’re not cheap.” Said Melany, again we laughed. I like Melany, she’s simple, she’s cool, she’s different, she’s refreshing. I know she had a tough childhood and I am really happy to help her.

“So, what are you going to do this afternoon?” I asked curious.

“I got lots of studies to do, but I was hoping I could watch a movie, I really don’t feel like studying.” She said.

“Well, you’re free to do whatever you feel here Melany.” I smiled and grabbed my shrinking ray. Melany nodded and walked close to me and then kicked on of the shoe off, revealing cotton white socks on her beautifully shaped foot.

“Come on...get in there.” She smiled and nudged me. I smiled and chuckled while I adjusting the shrink ray to 1/32 of an inch. I gave her a spyglass. I took a deep breath and zapped myself while saying to myself in my head something like “stay calm”. 1/32 is fucking tiny. I woke up, all went well. I stuffed my shrink ray in the pocket of my lycra suit and looked at the skyscraper wall in front of me and it was only Melany’s buffalo shoe’s thick sole. Melany takes great care spotting me. She was looking down over me with the spyglass. Surrealist hugeness.

She carefully placed the shoe on its side for my to climb in, but at that side it’s like climbing a building just to reach the inside. I do it nonetheless, while a huge big eye is watching me for the whole process. “COME ON, YOU CAN DO IT!” she says, her voice booming in my head.

Once I reached the inside she told me she’s going to flip the shoe and when she did, I went flying only to crash down on the huge worn almost torn insole of that European platform sneaker. The insole was a bit moist and warm, I landed face first in it. “BYE BYE, SEE YOU LATER!” Melany said as she tilted the shoe forward. I was sent tumbling down the dark inside of that huge heavy shoe and hit the end of the toe section quite hard.

But what hit me really is the smell.

Oh my goodness.

My first thoughts were: years of use, rave or electronic music party, dancing, girl with pink hair and tattoos. I know it sounds weird but when you don’t know who the shoes belonged to, you can imagine whatever you want. It also smelled like Melany’s foot sweat but it was well mixed in the rich musky years of an unknown European girl’s foot sweat. I absolutely loved that smell, I wish one day I’ll get to go back inside those heavy white buffalo shoes. But one with what happened that afternoon.

Melany didn’t wait long before slipping her socked foot inside the shoe. Being so minuscule is like being a grain of sand, she could not feel me. Being so minuscule also means at some point you lose sense of space and I ended up “somewhere” under her foot, probably under her socked toes. I could easily slip inside her sock if I wanted but I preferred to stay out and under. Melany wore those shoes without lacing them tight so when she started walking, fresh air would come in from the opening of the shoe as her heel would pop out at each step.

Ah, the sweet and powerful fragrance of Melany’s warm foot. For some reasons Melany’s feet always were soothing. That Monday afternoon was no exception. The rough cotton of her socks, from my height was brushing against my skin as Melany would walk and press all her colossal weight on me and I didn’t care. I was just inhaling as much scent as I could. I was drooling at the fact my lungs were 100%filled with such a delectable mix of fragrances. I did not even care or concentrated on what Melany was doing the whole afternoon, all I wanted was to breath in and let that powerful yet soothing odors fill my whole body, mind and soul. I was for th whole afternoon, just a tiny speck human in her shoe. I knew that up there she was also drooling over the fact I was in here. Everyone was happy.

Something brought me out of my deep trance, her voice. She was talking over the phone and while the buffalo shoes were thick and solid, and while her foot over me was cutting most of the sounds, I managed to concentrate on her voice. Why? Because she wasn’t paying attention to me. Also, she was talking about me. That caught my attention.

“Yeah, I’m not kidding. You should try this....Hmmm, oh well he’s expensive tho. Yeah.” She was really talking about me to someone. “Well, once you try, you can’t get enough. The feeling is like amazing.” Yeah I know, that’s my job, being amazing and all. “Yes. Yes he’s inside my shoes as we speak. No! I’m not kidding Cassandra! Well if you don’t believe me just try! It’s not like if you didn’t have enough money! .....” Ah, she was talking to a girl named Cassandra. At that precise moment, crushed under Melany’s socked foot inside her used well worn European second hand buffalo shoe I was happy that my client was giving my business free advertisement to someone. I felt like Melany was doing my job while I was doing my job. Me the insignificant speck, not really bigger than a piece of filthy dust, crushed under her foot.

“Cassandra... I am not kidding you.”

Ah poor Melany. I know what it is to deal with people who just can’t believe “it”. Some poepl just can’t. Even when they see me shrinking their brain cannot compute the information and they see me as incarnation of the devil. Well, for them, sometimes, I become just that. I told you before in previous chapters that I already had problems with some people. Well, being rich has advantages. You can hire someone to silence other people and stay in business. I am not a sinless person. I admit I have done terrible things. But again, nobody stops me from being happy, nobody stops me from doing what I enjoy most and nobody, ever, judges me. Or else, I just make sure they shut up...for good. Poor Melany was speaking to someone I don’t know and it intrigued me.

“Alright well, I’ll give you his card when I see you tonight Cassandra. Yeah. Well, his business card of course. What? No! He’s not a pervert. He doesn’t enjoy this, he’s doing it for money. It’s a business.” Said Melany over the phone. Ooops. Half true Melany. I am a bit of a pervert. I am enjoying this. I love your foot smell. I love your foot above me, I love when you crush me. Yes it’s a business, but I love it. Sorry to disappoint, but, no, you’ll never know how much I enjoy how you treat me, like a grain of sand inside your used shoes, forced to smell your foot odor. I like it so much, and I know you like it too, but you don’t know I like it a thousand times more than you do.

Melany hung up and went on doing whatever she was doing. At that point I just shrugged and thought that I would never see that girl named Cassandra, and that perhaps it would be for the better of me. Unbelievers, people think I am freak: no way, I stay away from these people.

The afternoon went on uneventful, except me being in ultimate ecstasy inside those huge buffalo shoes.

Don’t worry I ended up seeing and breathing fresh air. I grew back to normal size when Melany ceremoniously dumped me out of her shoe. I went to the bathroom and splashed my face with cold water.

“You okay?” Melany asked, coming closer. I finished washing my face.

“Yeah, sure all good Melany, how do you feel?” I asked.

“You had a hard time in my shoe this time right?”

“I did” I said honestly.

“Then I feel good. I like giving you a hard time. Makes me feel powerful.” She said. I could only smile, This was, after all, the purpose of my job.

“Tell me, who were you talking to ont he phone?”

“Cassandra? Oh, she’s my friend. I talked to her about you, I am sure she would enjoy your services. “

“Really?”

“Yeah well, she’s been single for a while, but, honestly I have no idea how it can be possible, she’s so beautiful” Melany walked towards me holding her cellphone. “Here is a picture of her.” I looked. Honestly I thought I would instantly lose my jaw. I had never seen a girl this much beautiful in all my life. Blonde hair, perfect visage, shapes, I fell in lose with her face from the first second seeing the picture.

“Wow.”

“Yeah, she’s beautiful... like... it’s almost unbelievable how she’s beautiful” said Melany.

“No kidding.” I answered, completely entranced by the picture on Melany’s cellphone. I instantly fell in love. That girl was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, and that was only a picture. I had never truely fell in love before, but that was it. I had that butterflies feeling in my belly, I was unable to remove that picture from my mind.

“She’s  on facebook?” I asked.

“Yeah, just look for her, she’s my friend online too.” Melany smirked. “You guys are all the same, she’s like a magnet to you all.”

“You don’t understand Melany. “ I said.

“Oh, sure I do. She’s like unbelievably beautiful and you... like everyone else... fall in love... Don’t make yourself any illusions. Besides, I told her about you already, she thinks you’re some fetishist freak and she’s not sure about your business. Honestly, she just doesn’t know how good it feels to have you down there inshoe. No, really. I am not kidding, you’re like the best thing a girl can have.”  Said Melany. I blushed. Everyone would have blushed at that.

“Thank you. Well, I know I huh...have no chance of you know....”

“Having a relationship with her? Ahaha, no you don’t stand a single chance. Sorry man. You’ll have to find someone else. But, you know, you could possibly get under her feet maybe, inside her shoe, that’s probably the closest you might ever get to her, if I convince her to try you, of course.” Said Melany.

I looked at the picture one last time before Melany just threw her cellphone back into her purse, ready to leave. I could not get that Cassandra picture off my mind. “Please give her my number and business card.” I said to Melany.

“I will, heh. You’re pathetic but, yeah I will.” Said Melany before leaving the lab. As soon as she was gone I sprinted up to my personal computer to log on facebook and type Cassandra’s name. I found her online profile and she had a few public pictures of herself on. I scrolled all of them, getting more and more in love with that beautiful blonde woman. Cassandra was perfect, I wanted to be hers. I wanted her to own me, to love me. I, for the first time in my life, wanted to be married to someone, to Cassandra. The most beautiful girl that ever existed.

I felt that deep inside, Cassandra was my girl, and that even if I was rich, that girl was out of my league.

I didn’t realize time went by when suddenly the bell rang. My next client had arrived. I came back to reality and walked to the front door to greet my next client.