“Oh man, I slept well,” I say to no one *yaaaawn* “Shit, I hope I didn't oversleep.” groggily I roll over and nab my phone off the nightstand.

3:22am

“Fuuuuuuuck, slept well my ass,” I roll back over in a sudden sleepy rage trying not to think about how I woke up a few hours before my alarm. I almost never seem to fall back asleep from something like this and if I do, I always wake up waaaay sleepier than before. 

Meh, “F” it I guess, I’ll just lay here and see what happens.

As I lay there trying to think about nothing, which is always when the weird sleepy thoughts fizzle to the surface of my brain, I started to recall some of yesterday's events at the office; the cafe downstairs of the big corporate building to be precise. We have a small single flat top cafe you could walk up and order from. There was only ever a few people on staff, usually one person on the flat top cooking and passing out orders, one or two in back prepping stuff and the other was cashing orders at the register.

I was there grabbing some breakfast and while I was waiting/staring lazily at my phone for my order I noticed a little movement out of the corner of my eye. 

Two women walked into the cafe and were mulling over the options available on a little pinned up menu near the entrance.

I could see one of them clearly, a little up there in age, maybe late thirties or early forties, but still looking real good. A little more on the plushy curvy side due to the desk job but, I am sure no one would complain. Very light Auburn colored hair I think, and in some basic casual work attire, black heels, black blouse, etc. Our place of work has a pretty lax dress code for being so corporate. Jeans and T were all you really needed but, they just say, dress your part for the day and all is ok. She probably had a few meetings coming up from the looks of her.

But, the woman up front was not my focus.

(...

You see, since we’ll be taking this interesting jaunt together, I have to let you in on this, a... this little “issue” I have. For a... some unknown reason, I just have this intense like... Love... for feet, female feet, I mean. Nothing personal fellas, and well, I’m not very fond of this love if I’m honest as feet can smell and sweat something fierce regardless of gender. I always found it to be an awkward and embarrassing brain glitch. I mean, I can’t perceive how you’d just tell some beautiful lady that you’d like to worship their feet?... Well, I don't know, maybe that's just me. I feel it's kinda gross and wish I could drop it for sanity’s sake but... brains right. 

Its as if you have control of what you're thinking at first right? Sorta like, “oh look, a pretty girl! I wonder if she’s smart or what shows she likes, maybe I should say hi,” then this little testosterone creep kicks a door into your consciousness out of nowhere rubbing his front bump and spouting off, “Oooo, lady. Pretty. I wonder what her feet look like, can I see them from here, can I guess her shoe size, wonder if they smell a little... or a lot??” … 

*Sigh*… If only it could be muted or better yet, removed maybe?… Well sadly, since it can’t seem to be helped, all one need do is feed it a couple thoughts or images a day to keep it at bay. Which is actually quite easy to pull off thanks to the internet… so many creative folks nowadays ;)

Anyways, I digress people, let's get back on course with the real story here. It's probably long winded enough...

…)

The lady in front was blocking my view of the woman she came with. I could see she had blonde what I think is, yeah, wavey yet almost curly hair, but that was about it. Well, except for the shoe level view of course. That was pretty easy to “see” at this angle. 

She is wearing these all black, diamond textured, low rimmed soft soled flats. Ones with mouths that dip low enough to just barely see the gaps of her toes and a thinner stretchy band across the creamy tops of her feet to keep them secure. Skechers I believe, walking flats of some sort and they may have been around the block a few times with the color looking a little faded and the soles a little scuffed and worn. 

Oh, these are probably her office shoes, ya know. Like a second pair of comfy beaters so she wouldn’t need to be in whatever fashionable yet uncomfortable heels were in season or say, snow boots that get too hot once you're in the office from a powdery winter day.

Ya know, now that I think about it, seems most women never wear socks with those types of flats and the material has got to get your feet all hot and sweaty for sure. Being some unknown polyester-esque blend of being hot enough to make you sweat and breathable enough to make you think its cooling the sweat it caused; Which must have been the case here since she began to lift her knees. Popping her heels out of the shoes fairly clingy hold. 

Left then right, left then right then left and a pause in the air. She was flexing her toes as the shoe material attempted to accommodate her movements, bulging and bending to their whims. Flapping the back of the shoe against the base of her heel, in clearly a fanning type motion. Definitely trying to air them out a bit and boy were they monsters, gotta be size 11’s at least.

I stare secretly as this mystery blonde repeats the fanning process on the peds I deeply wished to get a full view of when suddenly... plop, the right shoe drops to the ground. 

Revealed are five beautifully painted toes in a vibrant orange, perfectly sized to match the slightly larger, wider, and plushier foot. Wow yeah, she seemed to have some pretty damn big feet from what I can see, but I was always a bad guesser when it came to sizes. 

I could also see that there was a slight sheen to her foot which meant I was doubly right. It was damn steamy in those walking flats and I bet if we were somewhere chilly you’d see it slowly billowing out like hot breath on a cold morning.

Then...

Snap back to faux-reality as my name is called, apparently a second time by the cook, as I peel my eyes away from what I at least, and potentially others, would have thought was well... was a very tantalizing view. 

Hoping the two ladies standing at the menu and the girl that just made my order thought I was just lost in my phone. I quickly slide up to the little gap between two glass warming stations and reach for my food resting on the metallic counter. The hairnet wearing, lightly freckled and shiny red faced redhead dabbed her brow with a sleeve. From the heat and grease of the flat top it's no wonder she looked like she ran a marathon as she pushed over the food to me with one of her eyebrows raised. 

Smiling, I do a little thank you like nod and turn away, rotating in the mystery blondes direction hoping to get one last look and maybe see the face that owned such magnificently large and yet well proportioned wide feet with such a playful nail polish but, to my bewilderment... she was gone. 

(Bathroom? Maybe… Weird...)

Her friend was still here so, I do a quick glance around the room not finding anyone else other than the addition of the older gal at the register staring intently at her phone.

Miffed and accepting that I missed my chance to see her, I head to the register.

I hear someone say something behind me and not thinking it was for me I kept on course when suddenly, I feel a hand on my right shoulder and I get spun around to face… the Cook?

Taking in her younger and slightly grungier appearance I note that she was freckled a little bit more than I originally thought. A slightly rounder face with athletic qualities and not much need for makeup, probably on a partial sports scholarship and still needing to work some of her way through college. Think of an athletic girl with easy access to fries; toned and up-kept muscles hidden under a nice thin layer of soft plushy fat that's just adding to the fitness curves hidden by her clunky cook attire. Not for me to suggest or say it’s right, but dress up as a famous burger franchised freckled redhead and she could easily make more money somewhere on the internet.

(But wait... wait, wait, wait... this wasn't part of the memory, what's going on here? Something feels off about this whooole thing. I mean, the edges of my vision are going all fuzzy.)

“Hey, I saw you just now mister.” Says the cute redheaded cook very matter of factly.

(Who says mister?? And I’m 25!!)

I look around a little nervous and begin to slowly back away. I try to say, “I don't know what you mean” but… nothing seems to come out of my mouth... so, I just stare at her even more nervous than before. Inching further away, hoping to get out of this sudden nightmare like social situation. 

The Wendy’s cosplaying chef starts up again, this time louder and more abrasive, gesturing towards the darker haired woman, “I said, I saw you just now! You were staring at that ladies feet, like super perverted hard core staring!...”

“What was that!?” the auburn haired woman says quizzically, having overheard and now moving to approaches us. 

I see the redhead crack an evil smile at me. 

(Yeah no, this was deeefinitely new…)

Roughly grabbing a handful of my sweater and turning to the other woman, “This one here,” She says nodding her head at me with intense conviction,” he was staring at your friend's feet as she was airing them out. It was like a real intense staring too; for sure it was some kind of weird perverted trance from the way his eyes almost rolled out of his head. Don’t you know this is a workplace pervo.” She shakes me a bit, making me feel meek and fully at her mercy.

(Stupid dream body… MOVE! SPEAK!)

The other woman, overly shocked by what she just heard, reaches towards me snatching another fistful of my sweater absolutely ensuring no escape for me.

“Is that true!” she barks into my face which by now was likely beet red. 

I give a shaky grin, shrugging my shoulders up in the classic “I don’t know” gesture and she begins to really fume. Using her free right hand she rips something out of her purse and I feel a sharp prick in my left thigh.

(Wait… Did she just… mmhmm… yeah so, she just ah… she just stabbed me… with a needle... wiTH A NEEDLE! HOLY SHIT!)

Ripping the needle out from my thigh, I immediately begin to try and silently pry myself from their clutches. My face twisted in a soundless scream as the two girls then roughly toss me to the ground. They practically gator wrestle me to the point that only the redheaded cook, with suddenly appearing lawsuit worthy pigtails, was needed on top of me to keep me pinned.

Arms locked behind my back, soft yet strong knees pressed against them and a firm athletic and lightly calloused hand keeping my face on the cold tile ground looking off to my left, right cheek mashed down. 

Two black felt high heels step into view. They shift to face me and I crank my eyes as much to my left as they could go. I see a faint outline of the Auburn haired woman against fluorescent lights casting her face in shadow with only the gleam off of her eyes being visible. Hair changing to other natural colors rapidly, black, blonde, red, brown.

She lifts her right foot setting the sharp toed heels tip very close to my mouth diverting my attention from the freaky hair show, “So, you're a foot perv huh?” she asks as she lifts and rests the toe and sole of the shoe against my cheek, clicking the heel against the floor and my mushed mouth, gently grazing my forcefully pursed lips as she does so.

I try and twist my head away, but I can't move and this angry chef seems to be getting heavier by the second. 

(As a matter of fact, the shoe is too... and it’s getting… bigger?)

The once auburn hair shadow faced woman laughs when my struggles suddenly stop and a look of confusion hits my face. Pulling her heel back, gingerly resting it near its partner. Drawing my eyes back up to her trippy visage, slowly she bends down having locked my gaze with those glinting eyes obscured by darkness.. She holds that for a moment, letting me contemplate the scary truth of my dwindling size

She speaks...

“If you haven't already noticed you sick little perv,” venom in her voice, “you’re starting to shrink down to a size you deserve to be. A disgusting bug.” She seems to pick up the syringe like object near me and continues, “There is nothing you can do to stop this and I want you to know that when the serum finishes with you, you’ll be about a quarter of an inch tall.” 

(Fuck you lady… seriously!?)

My eyes wide with fear start losing their view of her as the cooks right hand begins to slowly cover up more of my face and head thanks to the shrinking.

The once auburn haired woman now seeming to really enjoy the look of terror in my eyes decides then, to inform me of what's to come.

“You should be done shrinking in about 2 more minutes, hopefully before my friend gets back, actually,” she looks to the cook whose hand now holds my head like a soft ball to the floor, as the gap between her legs was no longer able to even touch my steadily shrinking body. “Go stall her for a minute will you please? She should be down the hall and I can handle this little prick from here.”

“Sounds good to me ma’am,” she lifts the mammoth sized soft hand off of me and I roll to my back, eyes closed, holding my somehow not very sore noggin, trying to rub away some kind of imaginary pain from all that pressure. Before I even get a chance to finish processing this with the cook off of me a pungent smell hits my nose. My eyes rack open to behold the crazy woman's shoeless nylon clad foot poised above my still dwindling frame.

As I’m just about to lift my arms in anticipation of it dropping on me, the ball of her foot was already there. Hot and sultry, cheesy and sharp, her toes wriggle just under my chin playing with my neck and torso, wafting their aroma around gleefully. Most of my upper body under the pad and arch with her heel on the tile below my zipper and between my legs. 

(Seems “having me” meant pinning me under her gorgeous and scary foot?)

“Now where was I, ah yes, I was explaining my plans for you.” She says in a happy tone, pressing against the underside of my chin with the polished nylon covered nail of her curled in big toe, “Once my friend gets back, I am going to wait for her to, again, air out her big whiffy feet which shouldn't take long, I'm sure, especially with the shoes she’s wearing.” she states as her toes flex and rise up, *SMACK* - ing my chin as they passed above me painfully. I could see now that I had gotten small enough for them to…

*WHAM* 

The underside of her nylon clad toes mash into my unprotected face trying to find a good grip around my head. Painfully rubbing the wafty cringe inducing fabric over my face in attempts to better cram my ever shrinking nose into their smelliest and sweatiest crevices.

(Oh FUCKIN DAMN the smell! I can’t, I like feet, but fuck me… this isnt what happened yesterday!)

I continue to struggle, my little face  crammed in between her nyloned toes making me look like I was a poltergeist pressing against a wall in a pained grimace. Up above me she giggles at the tormented plight of the little man in her sights caught below her steamy foot,  “Then I’m going to toss your little bug sized body into those old sweaty flats of hers the first chance I get, without her noticing of course.” She starts to giggle again at seeing my struggling little face protruding up against the nylon having far too much fun after successfully working my head up between the gap of her big and second toe. “Oh and here's a thought, once I get you properly under her foot and food in my belly. I think it'll be time for a little power walk around the office with my bestie from work.” ;)

She laughs evilly at her last statement and then with focused intent, she begins to really press against my body with her foot making it impossible to breath. Squeezing her now monstrous sized muggy toes onto my nose and the ball of her foot onto my chest I hear her say, “It’ll be better if I knock you out now before you get too small, I don't want any “missteps” ruining my plans for you. Seeing as how this will be the last we speak,” her words starting to fade with the lack of oxygen, “I just wanted to say, farewell and have a nice life living what I am certain is your smelly dream come true, you little perverted bug.” The pressure triples and I pass out... 

*SNAP*

I shoot up in bed, sweating and gasping for air. My alarm blaring at its loudest like it’d been going for awhile. I take a second to make sure I'm okay and that I am in my room. 

With a sigh of relief knowing that the all too vivid semi-lucid dream wasn't, in fact, real. I turn my eyes to stop the alarm.

“OH SHIT, I OVERSLEPT!” and just like that my sense of relief was replaced with overwhelming stress and anxiety yet again. 

“Shit shit shit, I gotta go!” I exclaim, slapping on jeans and a t-shirt while rushing out the door. Trying to think up any decent excuses for the tardiness all while racing to the office. 

 

By the time I rolled into the office I was about an hour and fifteen minutes late… Not good… but, no worries, I got this.

*Deep breath, scan my badge, pull open the door* 

As I walk in, strike one occurs and I don't even realize it.

“Oh man, check out my timing, look who it is,” a short man with a graying mop of greased back hair and stubble to match says, as he turns to the security guard behind the front desk. 

“No need to message me when he gets here, looks like he decided that he did work today.” which was totally not said in a shit head, sarcastic-y sorta way of course…

“Hey Marco, sorry I’m late man, I had som..”

“Car trouble?” He interjects, “Traffic? Roommates grandma die and you needed to lead the procession?” he rambles, obviously frustrated with me.

“Look Nick, you have to get here on time man, I can’t keep giving you slack just cause you've been here a few years, the rookies get all pissy.” he continues droning on as we head through the next set of doors to the main floor.

We’re not in a big place in terms of verticality, our building is wide and long with only one side of that structure having 3 floors. I entered through the single floor side, or the IT entrance as it's better known. As we round the first right into the buildings main area, I see the execs offices to my left along the wall, with all their glass doors and exterior glass walls. Following them leads towards the central area where all the standard short cubicles resided, which was where we’re headed. As we get a few steps round the corner and just start to pass the executive administrative assistant's desk, immediately to the right. A taller woman with newly permed curly, just past shoulder length, strawberry blonde locs. She chides at us as we pass, causing us to hold up and converse.

She seemed to be in about her mid thirties, can never really tell any more with all the makeup that exists. Tanned but on the whiter side with a few laugh lines here and there, showing she's aged “happy” so far, if that counts for anything. Looking pretty good in the shape department even with being a little plush thanks to the job, she was curvy for sure, at least from what I could tell she had some wider hips from this angle so, probably a nice booty, mixed in with a slightly above average, rarely uncovered chest. Never seen much in the shoe department since I rarely see her not behind her desk with where I'm located in the office; and with my lowest current view being some thicker jeaned thighs, probably to go along with that butt.

“I see you scraped that gum off your shoe, Marco." She says hinting to me.

“W-wait, what?” I stammer a bit, confused by the remark.  

She smiles at me and, I gotta say, it was radiant. Laugh lines be damned this woman's smile could light up a room. Its like you just felt happy especially knowing it was directed at you, ya know. Just all innocent and motherly and jubilant at the same time.

“You were the gum silly,” as a light chuckle escapes from her engrossing smile.

I toss a nervous giggle, “I kinda get that but, why am I gum?” I say while looking between the two.

Marco chimes in, “Inside joke before you decided to grace us with your presence.”

“Ooohh got you, ok, yeah… I uh... still don't get it. I think I’d rather not be squished under someone's shoe like gum.” I reply, “Especially not Marco's.” I say with a light laugh.

She glances down at her computer as she responds, “Nooo, a Gumshoe silly, that's like a detective. Since, he was looking for you and all.” she glances up at me, “Although as of this morning, your last statement may not be all that farfetched…” she trails off her line of thought. Eyes scanning the screen, probably some email from some Exec for something they wanted.

“Sorry, as of this morning what? Being gum is not odd? What was that last part? I’m missing something right Marco?”

I state with a smile and turn to Marco just as her phone rings.

“Oh, I have to take this!” as she reaches for her headset, “Nice talking to you boys, hopefully see you around.” ;) She smirks, situating the headset over her ear and resting her likely juicy tush into her seat, already lost in a new conversation.

I try to shrug off the confusion as Marco nudges my shoulder to prompt some movement from me and before I bombard him with more questions I may not be in such good graces as I find my late ass in. So I shake it off as her inside “gumshoe” joke was confusing as hell and, you know what, I am just too tired to try and keep processing whatever that encounter was.

We get to what some folks in the office refer to as “The Dungeon.” Which is a 20ft by 20ft windowless room in the middle of the IT area with two ways in and a higher badge access clearance then most on the first floor. Add the fact that folks that work within it, rarely get a chance to step out because of the work they do and the name Dungeon starts to make sense. The rooms chock full of invisible digital chains that just keep an ass sitting and sweating like being on a long flight over and over again. Short breaks, eating at the desk, the whole bit and boy, it makes some pretty interesting human smells you're socially forced to accept. Some of which can emit from even the most visually stunning of individuals.

With usually four of us on staff every day, we try to keep the lights on and computers up for the world wide company that was our “Dungeon Master” I guess you could say.

We badge and walk in through the Dungeons man entrance, Marco first with me close behind.

“Look Millie,” Marco says pointing at me as we head to our own desks, “I found him and dragged him in into work just for you!”

As Marco hangs a left towards his desk I see Millie at hers directly in front of me. Her head facing her screens with her high gloss, straight black hair facing back at me, just like the other 3 desks. The two on the opposite side of Millie's and mine being oddly empty. 

As I stroll past Millies left, to my desk in front of hers, she laughingly chides at the statement, “Oh, I’m sure you did Marco, by the ear too I hope.” She leans off to the left side of her desk which was directly behind mine. “Which one was it,” She glances between my two ears while I glare at her. “I want to yell my frustrations of being left alone first day of the week into the correct one.”

“Come on Millie, at least I'm not as late as those two.” I point to the empty desks starting to think I'm not in that hot of water after all if they weren’t in either. 

“Did you seriously forget the others decided to take this week off dummy?” she says, seemingly stupified by my stupidity.

“Oh shit, I mean... Oh yeah, thats right, I mean you’re right!” My glare turning apologetic, “I totally knew that...Mary and Joesi were off this week… ok fuck it, thats my bad Millie.”

“Oh, no need to apologise now, I just finished passing your tardiness onto HR.” Millie states matter of factly and with a pearly sly smile to match.

My jaw drops and I stand up whirling around to face her, “What! Come on really, wha… why would you have to go and do that for Mill…” saddened by this sudden news, my shoulders starting to droop. This was not looking to be a good day for me… 

As I move around the front corner of Millie’s desk, past her Millionaire “Millie” Monroe name plate stuck to the cubicle wall, I finally caught sight of how she was looking today. 

Millionaire Monroe, was firstly, not a millionaire. She was a moderately paid college intern working here to gather some on the job experience. Her interesting name was apparently thanks to some pretty “Gangsta Parents” as she likes to call them but, she isn’t much for it in the corporate setting so she prefers Millie.

She’s Black American on the lighter side of the skin tone, brown eyes, jet black hair straightened to perfection, dropping to just above her breasts. Bangs dropping down to almost brow level leading your eye to her rounded and yet sharper features that mingle well with her fashion sense. She had on a cushy sparkly white sweater with sleeves pulled up to mid forearm, almost like she was looking to highlight her moisturised hands and well manicured blood red nails. The lower half of her having pitch black, high end, stretchy yoga pants; nicely sticking to her fit frame. Her shoes were some peep toe sparkly white designer flats to match the sweater of course, the few toes seen showing a matching red to her fingers. Glancing a little further under her desk I notice the pair of shoes I have unfortunately longed to take a whiff of for some time. 

See, Millie worked out regularly to combat the prolonged sitting that can happen working here which did nothing but help enhance the 22 year old’s beauty which, in turn, also made me pretty happy. Seeing as she needed to keep a pair of work out shoes in the office, which she also used as her office kick arounds, I was able to catch glimpses of her well taken care of beautifully two toned athletic feet from time to time. I’ve seen here go with and without socks in those poor black on black Nike Airs. Playful and colorful fresh toes go in, squirmy and colorful glistening toes come out. Lightly coated in what I can only assume is a potent mixture of salty sweat and cocoa butter. Sadly, when she’s worn the Airs for a good stint, she’ll transfer to whatever new shoes she’s brought pretty quickly and then keeps those Airs locked away in a lower spare desk drawer. Probably trying to prevent any smells getting around, especially since she's always competing with Joesi for the imaginary title of most physically upkept human in the dungeon. Ugh, I know I shouldn't but, I really do wish that someday I could get a little whiff of what her gorgeously soft toned feet smelled like.

My focus snaps back up to Millie as she continues on.

“Cause you always get away with being late like, ALL the time, it's ridiculous,” she says clearly tired of my lazy demeanor, “Oh, and not to mention you getting away with pretty much anything else you unintentionally screw up that you never seem to catch flak on for either.” I could feel the finger snaps in my bones that she tossed out, “You just making the rest of us look bad and work more so yeah, HR. What of it??” Her brown eyes cast a fiery stare above her monitors, almost as if to bore holes though to the back of my head; superman, I mean supergirl, style.

Before I can even bother at a retort, Marco pipes in with a sudden, “Oooh maaan…” 

Millie and I both switch focus to Marco, “Oh shit, what is it now?” I say, “Tell me something is broken and it's not something to do with me, please, for the love of whatever's out there, just not about me.” 

“Well, something is broken.” Marco says.

“Oh thank God, what is it?” I say a bit relieved, we could finally change the subject.

Marco then lets out a low whistle, “And buddy, that something, seems to be you.” Now shaking his head looking at his screen.

“What!?” I say confused and yet again, completely stressed out. (I mean seriously when will the shit stop falling on me today?) “What is it now, what could I have possibly done.” my arms and shoulders raising in surprise bewilderment.

Marco looks at me, “Well, I was checking into Millie’s tardiness notice, to see if it was posted to HR.” 

“Annnnnnnnnnd.” I say, wanting to get to the bad news as soon as possible.

“And it looks like someone else ALSO filed a complaint and shipped it to HR as well cause, there’s two under your name here now man.” as he thuds his screen with his finger.

“Uh What, how!? I’ve been here like... 10 minutes Marco! There’s no way I could have done anything other than be late.” I say starting to get frustrated. (What is going on today!) 

“What's it for Marco?”

“Well, I shouldn't say.” Marco starts to think it over, whether or not he should tell me.

I want to know so I press, “Come on Marco, is it anonymous?” 

“Uhhh, yeah, looks like it.” he replies.

I continue to argue, “Well then I won’t know who sent this one,” I tossed a quick “c’mon man?” glare at Millie.

“Alright alright,” Marco interjects with a sigh. “I’ll give you the gist of it before you argue with me till I eventually tell you anyway.” 

Millie then says to no one, “And there it is, gets away with every god damn thing, fucking privleged mothafu...” shaking her head with the last part trailing off as she returns to her monitors while sorta listening for what Marco had to say.

“So, it sounds like you tried to grill a fellow colleague about newly established workplace policies while they were trying to conduct their vital work functions? Yada yada yada, caused colleague to miss an established deadline for an executive meeting. Blah blah blah, yeah, that looks to be about it.” Marco says, looking to me and then to Millie, who slowly spins her chair around to reveal a pearly white grin.

“A missed meeting!? Who the hell did I grill and cause a missed meeting for!?” I exclaim.

“Ha, so you do have two strikes! Oh shit this is gonna be so good” Millie says gleefully bouncing in her chair.

I look at her, “Two strikes, we have “strikes” now!?” I say quizzically.

“Well, if you had been in on time you probably would have seen the new company policy for workplace misconduct in your inbox.” she says turning back to her screen, as I then immediately rush to sit down and begin to boot up my pc.

Over the next few minutes I scour my inbox looking for this supposed email.

I find it in my spam for some reason (seriously, is nothing going to go my way today?) so, I set a new rule in the system to never let that happen again with this email address, PED-HR@CGTS.com.

It reads:

Hello All CGTS Employees,

As of 12 am this morning, the PED policy for employee misconduct went into effect. Please reference the attached email which is a personal copy of the CGTS Employee Renewal signed by you six months ago with the highlighted PED policy therin. This letter is to inform you that your participation in this policy is now active and appreciated.

The folks in PED would like to personally thank all the personnel that volunteered to be Correctional Counselors to aid in helping along the unfortunate few employees that refuse to utilize CGTS’s Lax and Supportive company policies. For those selected you will receive an additional email shortly with the Correctional Counselor Guidelines pdf. 

Thank you all for your continued efforts in making CGTS a great place to work, 

Particle Enhancement Division(PED)

Head of Human Resources

Rebecca Paine

My face lifts from the screen and I say aloud to the room, “We signed something six months ago for some policy that starts today? I don't remember anyone saying anything about a PED policy being a part of that stupid Employee Renewal.”

“You really need to start reading the stuff corporate sends to you before you sign it dummy, don’t you know that?” She says, slightly leaning towards me and rubbing her eyebrows. “Cause if you had read that “stupid” Employee Renewal form, you would have seen that you didn't even need to sign it.” I just stare at her dumb struck. “It was obviously a scheme to get the veteran employees to sign over to the newer employees HR and Benefit policies once you got like a paragraph into it.” her soft red hued ebony lips pulled up in a another smirk.

Still not sure what to think about this new info I begin to stutter something out but Millie interrupts. 

“You are a sad little man... didn’t even realize till today that you had dug your own grave sixth month ago, and now look at’cha,” Millie says starting to giggle, briefly point in my direction, “dumbstuck as hell and the worst news hasn’t even been revealed yet.” 

Marco, laughing now, chimes in, “I know right! Now we’ll just have to see if he pulls off a hat trick with one more strike and trips right into the grave headfirst .”

“Oh jeez, come on you two, that's a bit morbid isn’t it?” I say, finally finding the chance to speak up. Finally, this may even be my chance to shut this convo down and get us all back to work,

“Ya know what, laugh it up,” I say putting up an air of confidence, “You’re right, thanks you Marco, I do still need that one last strike to enact whatever this PED thingy is, which is fine since I’ll just be on my best behaviour from here on so,”

This last unfinished statement caused them both to start laughing hysterically... interrupting me yet again...

Through some breaks in the laughter Millie says, “Ha, oh my god, I so wish Joesi was around to hear that shit!”

Marco responds with, “Oh damn yeah, Mary would have had a good laugh at that too. Man did they pick a bad week to take off! HAhahaha” Their laughter fades in tandem. 

Millie looks at me with her dark auburn colored eyes slightly teared up a bit from all the laughing. “You? On your best behaviour? As in not late to somewhere or accidentally fucking something up just by being present? For the rest of Q1?” 

 

I stare back at her plain faced starting to realize this wasn't like a day to day policy, but a quarterly one. 

(That's definitely not so good…)

I shrug tilting my head sideways a bit trying to muster my shattered confidence, “Yeah… uh, all Q1... for sure…” followed up with a weak ass attempt at a confident smile.

Rolling laughter follows suit from the two yet again.

“Ok mister Best Behaviour,” Millie says sarcastically, “if you're so confident, don’t even read the policy. It’s probably nothing “Big” anyways right?” 

Sadly following through with my now faux confidence, not wanting any further embarrassment, I take the bait she so expertly flung out to me, “You know what Millie, I won't look at it, cause it is probably nothing “BIG” cause CGTS is all about making things as “TINY” as possible, be it micro chips or morale!” I start gaining a bit of bravado and sit back at my desk, Millie and Marco now standing up to get a better view of my screens.

I click the email and then hit delete for them both to witness. “See? No worries at all, I got this shit, no problem!” I say nodding my head at their semi surprised faces. I guess they didn't think I was going to do it… oh shit… Then slowly looking back to my screen, trying to discreetly regret my decision. I hear their chairs creak as they settle back into work mode. 

Millie likely still smiling and always having the last word says, “Oh I’m sure you do Nick,” Sarcasm seeping into her voice, “I totally believe in you. This won't be like last quarter at all with its 5 or 6 “recorded” tardies.” slightly trailing off as if she was starting to read something, with a low and almost sinister tone I can just hear her say to herself, “Oh god no... definitely not like last quarter at all “little” man... I can feel it.” she then seems to go back to her work behind me as I sit stewing over everything that just went down. 

Especially transfixed on that last, “little man, I can feel it.” part. That sounded a bit too... ominous maybe? Definitely feeling a bit more matter of fact over sarcastic and she said it just loud enough for me to hear. 

Oh man, I better watch my step for real this time. I have no idea what the heck was in that PED policy thanks to Millie goading me and well fuck... I guess more so thanks to my stupidity for falling for it really… so stupid!

Can’t think about that now though, if I don't focus on my work I could get hit with my last strike and without knowing what the hell that could be I’d rather not find out first hand just yet. 

From here on I ignore Marco and Millie for the next few hours and go about my day trying to work while internally debating whether I should ask anyone through the company IM if I could get a copy of the policy. So far, I couldn't think of anyone I could for sure say would help me over trying to screw me over; or nark on me cause it would be “funny” to see what happens. 

 

I finally abandon the effort after an hour and decide the best bet is to keep my head forward with my hands on the keyboard. Next thing I know, lunch rolls around so I quietly excuse myself from the room with no comments from the peanut gallery, thank god. I headed over to the Cafe where, unbeknownst to me, my third strike awaited my arrival.

I get to the Cafe and secretly scan the room for curlyish darker blond hair or black Sketchers walking flats in hopes I could put a face to the feet that seemed to be the central theme of my “nightmare” from this morning. Their haunting beauty being somehow the only form of escapism I wanted with how today's current trajectory looked.

Alas, I saw neither lingering in the cafe. There are people scattered here and there amongst the tables and chairs with no signs of the woman I was hoping to see.

I did however see two interns that Millie usually hangs with. The two of them were huddled into a four person booth chatting away about something. I could see their shoes, two pairs, one on the right and one on the left. Both of them in some form of flat, idley popping their heels from their likely smelly confines or dangling one of them off their presumably pedicured toes. I lose focus for a minute, entranced by their innocent fidgeting. 

The pair of flats on the right side of the booth suddenly stopped, my eyes instinctively darting to the other girls flat still playing away. The leftmost flat of the pair that had stopped, then started lifting ever so slowly, pulling my eyes back to it. A pale suede green with a small bow of the same color adhered to the top. The front of it flexing up as if pointing to the ceiling with the right flat coming up behind it.

I shift over to the wall where the menu was and leaned against it while trying to keep my eyes on what was unfolding. Never taking a chance to look anywhere other than the floor and the wall I posted up to.

The toe of her right flat sliding against the heel of the left, proceeds to gently nudge against it till her shoe finally relinquishes her heel. Then with one final push it falls off of her soft, cream white, royal purple painted toes. Her long tan toes stretching and clawing at the air. Seemingly basking in the cool air freedom they just received after being released from the muggy confines of their shoe prison. After a moment to air the left foot poses its toes against the back of the other flat, which is lifted in preparation to be released as well. Her toes pause for a moment... and then with some light scratching at her achilles tendon they begin prying lose the heel stuck in the right flat.

Completely entranced at this point I continue watching these lovely toes fan and scrunch away when the pair of chai colored creamy peds finally decides to lift and rest on the left seat. I then shifted my eyes to the face of the owner of the feet that had just distracted me from gathering my lunch, to find a pair of vibrant green eyes within a beautiful tan visage, staring dead on into my own. Left brow lifted and eyes a bit squinted, certainly trying to piece together what was so important under the table, my heart starts to race as now I take in her whole appearance since I was so mesmerized by her feet. 

I see she is in her early twenties like Millie, Middle Eastern tan skin with naturally straight glossy black hair pulled back in a pony. More of a sculpted, model-esque physique, with a vivid green blouse that brings out the color even more in those brightly green hued eyes. This led down to some pants that looked to be black jeans but were just a form of yoga pant disguised as such. Taking her all in I have to say, she was very easy on the eyes which by the way, were still locked onto me.

(Oh shit, she’s still looking at me!) My face no doubt turning a bit red as I try to play off my ogling like I was just lost in thought. 

Which led to actual scared and embarrassing thoughts to start rolling into my noggin. (Did she see me staring, does she know it was her feet that had my attention? Naaaaaw...But, what will she do if she does know? Oh man, why can’t I just be normal like for reals dude I only have one strike left and I’m making horrible decisions!)

Her left foot then drops on top of her flat and the right then crosses over her knee just missing the underside of the table showing off its soft smooth and glistening sole. Her eyes finally leave mine as she leans down to look under the table. She hangs there for a second with her right arm supporting her upper body as she looks around, lightly scrunching her toes while doing so. 

I can now see her friend on the right half of the booth coming back to the land of the living, her eyes finally leaving her phone probably interested at what in the heck her friend was doing.

I see she looked to be of Asian descent, not sure where from exactly, and in her early twenties as well. Just as thin as the friend she's sitting with and having long, jet black hair done up into a chopstick bun, highlighting her softer featured face and slightly yellowed complexion. (What is with these girls and the straight black hair. Its like a club or something almost.) Her top was a red long sleeved blouse with darker blue jean clad legs across from her pony tailed friends inquisitive head.

I see the Asian intern nudge towards her leaned over friend after a few seconds into her looking underneath. She says something I cant hear from here and the Middle Eastern girl then sits up. Looks to say a sentence or two then points at me.

(Shit! She did see me staring, oh god, hopefully she doesn't figure out it was her feet I was so focused on. I have had enough embarrassment and company BS fall on me today. Damn it!)

Her shoulders then shrug as the Asian intern asks a question, the Middle Eastern girls leg uncrosses as both of them start to look under the table. 

It only takes a second for the Asian intern to figure out what I was so lost in trance with when she see’s her friends royally painted toes and feet resting openly airing out and exposed on her flats. She excitedly exclaims something I can finally hear over the cafe commotion

“OMG girl, I bet it's like my last boytoy, Its probably your feet he’s into!” 

Oh dear god no, not this. I can't hear the rest of her explanation as she goes back to normal volume. The brown haired girl now is leaned over the table listening intently to the Asian interns thoughts on my ogling. She turns to me after a moment, with a bit of an intrigued look and then, slightly disgusted as she seemed to recognize who I was.

Just then, the worst thing that could arrive at the table, did… and its name is Millie… this day is just getting better and better isn’t it, son of a bitch this sucks. 

With what I was caught doing still unknown to Millie, I took the chance to quickly grab a premade soup/sandwich tray and try to boogie. Thats when I see the small line that had formed at the register since the clerk had stepped away to help with a spill. Not wanting to be within shouting distance of the girls, especially once Millie was made aware of what her friends “thought” I was doing, I jumped the line. Leaving a fiver on the register I book it out of the cafe and head back to my desk. Trying to pretend that none of what just happened had actually transpired. 

I sit in the dungeon and eat my lunch in solitude thanks to Marco having left for his as well. It took me half a sandwich before I couldn't help but start contemplating how I was going to handle the conversation that I knew was going to occur once Millie got back from her lunch.

Ok so, 25 minutes left for my lunch, add 10 or so since she left after me by a bit so, ok, 35 minutes to come up with a very good perv deflecting argument dealing with her friends unprecedented foot staring accusations…

(I can totally do this!)

15 minutes later….

(Holy Fuck, I can't do this!)

Shit, how do I not turn beet red when she brings it up, or, or,

How would I even get her to take my word over her little clicks?

Oh maaaan… maybe I should just head home “sick” ...wait no, I was already late and they know I was fine when I got here, don't want to risk another strike, maybe I…

As I am mulling all of this over, deep in thought, I didn't notice two people enter the Dungeon via the main entrance behind me, heading to the only person in the room, me.

A tap on my shoulder snaps me out of my worry trance causing me to startle and flinch. Pushing away from the tap and looking towards two uniformed women. Their attire appears security like, but with a little lab tech mixed in. Odd dress, especially  when seen in such a casual wear workplace.

“H-Hey there,” I stammer a bit as I begin standing to greet these two women.

The one closest to me, a short haired blond, quickly puts a hand on my shoulder forcing me back into my seat. 

“No need to stand sir, are you Nick?” she says in a cordial yet stern tone. One hand on my shoulder, the other on her belt. Pretty strong grip for a lady of here stature.

A bit taken aback by being pushed into to my chair I reply with the look of a confused and cornered rat, “Y-yes, yeah, that's me ah,” I glance at her Name tag, “Bethany,um, what seems to be the probl,” 

“Nick Soft?” the brunette woman behind the blonde says, interrupting me.

“Y-yeah, Nick Soft is me, what's going on?” I say confused glancing back and forth between the two woman.

The one touching me shoots the other a semi confused glance and is given a shrug in return, they look back at me and both start reciting some never before heard company rhetoric at me. 

Spiraling out from listening thanks to all the anxiety I notice a patch both of them have attached to their odd uniform as this spiel goes on. 

Big bold letters reading, 

P.E.D.  

with an emblem resembling what looks to be a foot in the backdrop over a humanesque shape…

(Well thats weird, why is it a foot or am I just seeing it wrong?). 

A single right foot rocketing towards the ground in a stomping motion with the word “Enforcement” underneath all crumbly looking.

Oh shit… their P.E.D. ! 

The two stop with the corporate lingo stuff and now Bethany, still keeping me pushed into my chair, pulls out what looks to be a very sleek futuristic taser from her belt.

“Now, just stay calm Mr. Soft, this will only take a second and it hardly hurts at all,” she says nonchalantly as the taser looking object presses to my left shoulder.

I begin to panic and push her and the taser away, “Wait, hold on a sec, what do you mean hurt!?”

The brunette woman rushes forward to my right, her name tag reading Melissa begins holding me down as well saying, “Sir, I am going to need you to stay calm, ok?” her hands pressing into me, restricting my movements just enough for her partner to press the device into me again only this time, she pulls the trigger.

*FLASH*

A bright, searing light radiates in the vision center of my brain. Pain surges through my body for an instant and then the feeling of rushing wind from all directions ripples across every inch of my skin mingled with an odd sense of falling. Culminating in an abrupt slam onto a solid surface that knocks me silly.

Blind, disoriented, and quickly losing consciousness I hear one of the two P.E.D. officers say, “I knew the first 3 strike policy breaker would be a fighter, but he kinda acted like he didn't even know we would be coming for him, right? Or was that just me?”

Another voice, this one more distant, “Eh, doesn't matter anyway, little guy has three stri…”

 

I fade out...

*CLUNK NNNNNnnnnnnn*

A brilliant fluorescent light turns on and sears my eyes even from behind their lids. I squint my eyes as tight as I can to lessen the sudden and searing luminescence. The rest of my body feels pretty immobile since it doesn't seem to exist at the moment. I do know I am on my back, but all I feel, senses wise, is my head. I have all the bells and whistles; hearing, taste, and maybe even sight if this light wasn't so damn bright. 

Then I hear what sounds like a metal chair being moved on a hard tile followed by a very loud and yet natural speaking voice from a familiar sounding woman off to my left.

“Ok Beth, escort her in, in say, like 5 minutes please, I’ll need a moment with the little guy.”

Eyes fluttering still trying to adjust to the light, I try moving to the best of my current abilities but, no luck so far.

“Hagh! Hab e uh!” I say frustrated.

(What the fuck!?... Guess I can’t really talk either.) I think to myself as I try to stretch my jaw and lips.

(And what happened again….?) 

(Oh yeah, that Beth lady “tased me bro!”) 

The lovely memory of her pulling the trigger rushes back to me for a second. I probably would have winced if I wasn't currently paralyzed and being blinded from above.

I hear a rather large sounding, “Ok Mel!” followed by a door closing.

“Haaaaaagh!” I scream, my eyes finally focusing a bit better.

“Oh my God, will you just shut up.” I hear resonate loudly from my left. “The mic in there is broken and stuck powered on so no more sounds from you or else. Got it?” She asks with a sense of firm finality.

I nod my head yes to no one in particular and finally get my eyes to peel open a bit to take in my predicament. Staring at the ceiling I see a transparent teal hued ceiling with vents cut into it in a perfect pattern riming the edges that lead to see through walls.

(Wait a minute, is that a handle in the center on the ceiling? Plus another ceiling waaaaaaaaay up in the sky behind it?)

My nearly closed eyes follow the wall to my right, down, and it then curves into becoming the clear floor which I was now currently sprawled out on. I get a sudden memory from childhood out of the blue.

(Is this one of those hermit crab cages from those corny coastal county fairs…?)

The sound of papers rustling is heard followed by, “there we are. OK,” *Clears throat* 

“Hello there Mr. Soft,” 

*THUNK, THUNK, THUNK*

I wince my eyes as the cage is hit in rapid succession helping urge me along with the tedious process of opening them. Through a squint I sorta see through my transparent walls a gigantic hand with the pointer finger cocked back, ready to tap the wall again with its pink nail. In the distance behind it, a cute face, one belonging to the brunette P.E.D. Enforcer. 

Melissa I think I heard her name was or, I guess Mel for short.

Mel continues as she sees she has my attention, “Ok so, I am going to say this again so you understand the seriousness of the situation.” She says with a bit more sternness, “I really need you to keep your tiny mouth shut in there for this part... you got it?”

I stare back, probably looking dumbfounded by her size in my current state, mouth agape and drooling. Pins and needles could be felt in my head and neck, slowly working their way down my body in a painful telltale sign that I would be able to move again at some point in the nearish future.

*THUNK, THUNK* 

The finger smacks into the wall again.

(Oh, come on lady, will you stop rattling me! Now I get why fish hate it so much… Besides, I thought I was told not to speak right? Oh and uh... I’m fuckin paralyzed!)

“Mr. Soft? Please Nod if you can. Under. Stand. Me?” Melissa says a bit slow at the end with some extra enunciation making me feel even more belittled, like I cant speak english suddenly.

With all my willpower, I fight the spiky tingly sensations and force myself to nod my head YES at the ginormus woman on the other side of my clear cell wall.

Suddenly  the situation registers with me… like, fully sinks in… and well...

(OH GOD OH GOD OH DEAR GOD, What in the fuck!? The FUCK, is going on right now! I’m small right now aren't I, I’m fucking tiny! Holy shit shit Shit SHIT! Is that a giant right there! Right now in front of me! A giant! Or well wait, a giantess... but still… A GIANTESS IS RIGHT FUCKING THERE! WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING)!

As my brain screams at me, trying to cope with how the hell this is even possible right now, Mel regiards the sudden panic on my face and apparently takes it as the sign to continue her little spiel.

Mel, rustles through the papers in front of her till she finds what she’s after, “ Alrighty Mr. Soft, seems you’ve been a tardy employee these past few weeks and over the past few days…” She reads for a moment, “Wow, just down right deplorable... mmhmm.” She states very “matter of factly”.

Her eyes lift from the paper and offer me a steely gaze as she continues, “and well, we will not be putting up with that at all...” the gaze lifts and she's back to casual somber again,  “Here at C.G.T.S. we take our work seriously and, as you are one of us, it is then up to us to ensure you're the best that you can be,” Her face leans in, “so that we can of course, be sure that we are the best we can be.” pointing at the CGTS emblem on her jacket.

Mel leans back still locking eyes with me, hands resting on the papers and a look of “you get it right?” painted all over her face.

It soon disappears and she goes on, “I’m sure you understand, so,” her hands smack the table as she gets back into the papers before her.

“Looks like we have 3 work weeks including potential weekend watch if the peddy officer agrees so, it looks like 21 days or more depending on behavior Mr. Soft.” She writes a little note down while saying it aloud under her breath, “After personnel record review, my suggestion for handling category has you listed in the Troublemaker class...” 

“So, as I presume based on this signature of yours here,” She quickly lifts and sets down one of the papers, “that you’ve read the recent C.G.T.S. Colleague newsletter highlighting our latest P.E.D. enforcement procedures and I do not have to remind you of what is in store for you in the upcoming weeks.”

Her eyes back on me rest above a genuine smile, “Thanks for that by the way, saves me a bunch of time having to explain it all.”  She starts to laugh a little, “Like seriously, it's a good 2 hours of just boring law this, and human rights violation that, so really Mr. Soft, I do super appreciate it. Here, I’ll even write down a positive in column B for you just to show you're on the write step towards recovery.”

As Mel writes down my supposed positive in column “who gives a shit” I just stare at her trying to come up with something… some…. Sentence… some quip that could get me out of this. 

It can’t be hey, um, BTW I never read the stupid newsy thing cause I am sure that will add to my time doing whatever the hell this was… I could say like, 

The door to my right in the room my cage was in suddenly clicks open. This sudden unknown temporarily pulls me out of my internal meltdown and I see Bethany the blonde haired P.E.D. Enforcer (tasering bitch!) holding the door open and gesturing a “come on in” to another person.

In walks a red headed female in her early twenties that looked awfully familiar. 

Her red hair looking a bit rushed with dark eyeliner and makeup likely from the night before along with a few freckles competing with numerous flecks of glitter strewn across here smooth cheeks. She had on a thicker white, oversized button down top which masked most of her frame. From below the shirt flowed black form fitting jeans ending in plain black non slip shoes that were clearly a bit grungy from use and whatever her job was.

Light bulb! 

(Holy shit, this is the line cook girl from my memory turned dream turned nightmare this morning!)

(What the hell is she doing here?)

Mel stands as the cook enters, “Thanks Beth, I got it from here.”

“Ok Mel, text if you need me!” Beth replies a bit bubbly, closing the door as she leaves.

“Please, Ms. Stamper, have a seat.” Mel gestures towards the chair opposite hers.

“Oh um, ok cool, and uh, it’s Sarah.” The red head replies as she pulls back a chair and maneuvers to sit, “Miss Stamper sounds like my mom.” She finishes and her massive form comes to rest in the seat to my right. Melissa following suit, sits as well, and that's when Sarah's eyes lock onto my tiny self.

“Oh, holy crap! Wooooah” Sarah exclaims, leaning in, her face becoming even larger from my cage, showing me every little intricate wrinkle not usually visible to the normal eye. “What is that you have in here? Is that a,” Her head cocks to the side, “is that a tiny... person?”

“Sure is,” Melissa says looking into my cage from the other side causing two of my cell walls to become some massively beautiful yet also terrifyingly large pair of faces, “that is mister Nick Soft, our very first P.E.D. Policy Breaker.”

“Oh yeah, I think I had heard something about a PED thing taking effect a few days ago.” As Sarah says this my mind jumps to attention.

(A few days ago?? How long was I out for? It was friday I think when those bitches did this to me… so what then… it must be like what, Monday or Tuesday if this line cook lady Sarah is here… holy shit what are they planning on doing with me if I’ve been unconscious for a few days!? This has got to be illegal right? Someone's bound to come looking for me. I mean come on, family will at the least, what is C.G.T.S. thinking with this stupid Policy!!)

“That PED thingy sure did go into effect and we have you down as a volunteer for your department in thhhhheeeeee, Cafe I see.”

“You do??”

“Is that surprising Sarah?”

“Well uh, no… uh, maybe? I’m trying to remember when I volunteered for this and what it was exactly?” Sarah says a bit sheepishly while scratching her head in confusion. “Uuuummm… OH YEAH its… wait no… all I really can remember is that some big policy went into effect. I’m sorry Melissa”

“Oh call me Mel and don’t worry about it Sarah, we all get busy. So, you don’t recall signing up six months or so ago? I have the form right here, does this jog any memories?” Mel says as she hands Sarah a sheet of paper over my cage.

Sarah scans it for a second and then jumps a little with recognition. “Oh this was that sheet the crew drew straws over to see who would get stuck having to volunteer. I drew the short one so I signed up for i- oh my God!,” Sarah says followed by an embarrassed tired laugh, “I’m so sorry Mel, I’m not trying to belittle the work it just a… you know what, I totally should have read and paid attention to the policy, and thats completely on me.” Sarah continues apologetically as she realizes she just basically just told Mel that the cafe pretty much ignored her volunteer form and turned it into a game of whoevers wins, loses, “The cafe has gotten like a hundred of those “potential volunteer” things and so far, not a one has ever come up ya know.”

“Hey, honestly don’t sweat it Sarah, I get it,” Mel says almost as if she had anticipated people wouldn’t read the forms they signed. “Life in the Cafe is always stressful with all the prep work and sudden rushes of hungry customers, I’m sure it’s crazy.”

“Oh damn right it is.” Sarah says as her head slumps towards the table. 

Mel assuringly says, “I get it Sarah, I worked back of house for a year so I know how it can get.” 

Sarah's face acquires a relaxed grin as she looks up to Mel, “I appreciate you being so cool about this Mel, I’d feel bad if I wasn’t straight with you so, I’ll just come out and say it. If you haven't already noticed that is.”

“Noticed what Sarah?” Mel says leaning back a bit, looking ready for anything Sarah was about to say.

(Oh come on Mel, like you haven't noticed she looks like she was out last night at a rager and then just rolled out of bed an hour after getting home?)

Sarah takes a deep breath, “Well, lets just say if I had known something like this was going to happen I probably wouldn't have stayed out so late last night and drained all my brain power for today,” Sarah lifts up her right leg a bit to reveal her knee, “My makeup must look awful and I didn't even have time to change all the way.” Sarah pulls her loose pant leg up a bit, revealing what looks to be a thin sheer black pantyhose with a few silver spirals printed here and there on it faded with time. “I even tossed on my work shoes and pants over my party nylons since I was in such a rush this morning.”

“Was it fun at least?” Melissa asks intrigued as Sarah puts her leg back down.

“Oh it was just amazing, well the parts I can remember at least…” Sarah says with a coy and tired smile.

As this conversation about Sarah's rager goes on above me I just lay there unable to do anything. Looking between the two goddess sized women as they took turns speaking. Still totally unsure what in the fuck was going on and why I had to be tiny to hear this absolutely useless banter.

Sarah leans onto the brightly lit table my cage rests on, “So, from one girl to another, is it maybe possible just to pass on this volunteer work for today?” She says a little desperately to Mel. “The cafe still needs to lunch prep and I don't think they can do it without me today.”

Mel leans back, arms now folding, “Oh, no need to worry about that Sarah, this will not impede your daily work at all. I promise.” she says assuringly. “As a matter of fact, from some of our initial beta testing the volunteer work actually improved the colleagues demeanor while on shift by at least 90%.”

“Pff, oh come on Mel, what could possibly make my job “happier” , you know what I do all day here right?” Sarah says a bit skeptical yet a little intrigued.

“Well seeing as you only signed up and didn't read anything about this, let me give you a little run down of what we need from you Sarah.” Mel continues, “If you don’t like the sound of it when I am done, you can pass on it and go about your day, how's that sound?”

Sarah now leans back as well, crossing her legs “Ok, i’m game. What's this all about? I assume it has something to do with this little toy person, McSoft, here.” she shakes her head towards me. 

“Absolutely is Sarah, his name is actually Nick Soft and he is definitely not a toy.” Mel says with a smile. “That is in fact, one of your office colleagues who has decided to break our recently enacted P.E.D. Policy as I mentioned earlier.” Mel straightens up and pulls out a pamphlet, handing it over to a surprised and suddenly very intrigued Sarah.

“Having broken P.E.D. Mr. Soft here has forfeited his normal natural freedoms until a later, to be determined, date. That way he can be counseled and trained to be a better worker by having to spend some time in another colleague's shoes for once.”

“Wow wait so, that is really a tiny person, holy crap, I really thought it was a toy. So like, can it move and stuff? Does it speak?” Sarah says talking faster now with curiosity.

(It? I am a “Him” thank you very much, what am I an object to this ditz?)

“Oh yes of course, he is just recovering from the treatment used to get him that small. It can take a bit out of you from what we’ve seen.”

“Crazy, so ok, it sounds as if he will be like, riding with me on my person, watching me work and do my day to day so he can see the nonsense the cafe staff has to deal with?” Sarah continues inquisitively,  “Oh and what did he do by the way, to deserve this odd predicament he’s in.” Sarah says this last part looking at me with a judging stare.

Mel replies, “Well, almost right on the being with you part and, as for what he did.” Mel flips open a folder and begins looking through it.

“The 3 strikes against him, from the most recent to earliest strike; he seems to have stolen from the cafe, been late numerous occasions to his own position causing other colleagues to over work and lastly, harassed a fellow employee to the point of massively disrupting their workflow.” Mel finishes, shooting me a nasty look. Sarah’s cutely freckled yet tired mug doing the same.

(Holy shit… seriously? That rap sheet makes me sound like a total asshole! When did I steal from the cafe? I know I put money down on the registar. The late part isn't really that bad right? And that last one is total BS that somebody made up! I need to talk to a person in HR about this and fast.)

“He stole from the cafe! What a little butthead! From the sound of it, you need A LOT of counseling little dude.” Sarah says sternly at me through my plastic cage.

Mel follows that with an, “I know right!” and continuing on with,  “what's worse is all the complaints were filed by women. It’s like he has no regard for the opposite sex, or at least that's my take on him from what I have here.” She says tapping the folder. “I even made sure each volunteer for this little troublemaker was a female just to spite him.”

(Holy shit, is she really trying to make Sarah hate me? These lies she keeps spilling are way off base for a normal corporate HR person. Fuck P.E.D. I say… Fuck’em to the moon damnit!)

“Ok, no way then, I don't want this little bug anywhere near me while I am on shift, I may just outright step on him at this point.” I hear one of Sarah's shoes stomp down as she says that, leaning away from my cage in disgust.

“Well, funny you should mention that.” Mel retorts. “Remember how I said the “spend time in other colleagues shoes” bit no long ago.” Mel asks.

Sarah's head tilts to the side quizzically, “Oh uh, yeah I do.”

“Well, that is exactly what I meant Sarah.” Mel says with confidence.

Both Sarah and I look at Mel with shock. My brain kicks into panic mode again,

(OH GOD, My nightmare...its real, way different but like, still so real. What's going on, am I still asleep, did I never wake up? Is this the wrong reality!?)

“Wait now, hold up a second,” Sarah responds, repositioning herself in her chair, a bit confused she continues, “So, you're telling me that this little guy here is going to have to be trapped in another colleague's shoe?”

“Yep.” Mel says with a smile. “and not just anyone's shoe Sarah, your shoe.”

“All day?” Sarah asks a bit distraught at the thought, looking down at her old beat up non slips..

“A counselor's guardianship is 24 hours a day, 5 with up to 7 days per week depending on potential weekend sign on, all of course spent with the volunteer as they see fit. Oh also as an fyi, it's spent with a single volunteer from each department he wronged with them being allowed to include others if they deem it acceptable annnnnnnd,” Mel pulls out a stack of papers and pushes them over to Sarah, “if they sign these non-disclosure agreements.” 

(WHAT! I’m like, good, with feet but, come on now… really, is this some kind of sick joke!? How could I ever survive something like that, it would kill me for sure, if not the weight, the heat and humidity would cook me, not to mention the smell! Sounds so good and so bad at the same time, please brain, WAKE UP!)

“How would he even survive something like that? Wouldn't he just get squished or suffocated in there?” Sarah asks while looking at her grungy kicks under the table.

(YES SARAH! That question, exactly that question Sarah, thank you!)

“C.G.T.S. has perfected a shrinking technology that actually reduces and enhances an object's particles, hence, P.E.D. - Particle Enhancement Division.” Mel explains.

“Ooook, interesting,” Sarah now leaning forward in her seat, eyes darting to me every now and then with more and more curiosity. “So is Enhancement meaning he can't really be squished to death?”

“Precisely Sarah,” Mel says beaming with false pride that Sarah followed along, “a good example I like to use is like a little stress ball in human form.”

(Ok lady, this is just crazy. I can’t die by squishing!? A STRESS BALL!)

“A stress ball?... Well, I mean. I guess I could use a little stress relief. Especially with this internship I’m waiting to hear back on. If I get it I'll be another step closer to becoming a paramedic and I’d be gone by the end of next week.” Sarah says proudly.

“Oh no way, congratulations Sarah! We’ll miss you for sure when you get it,” Mel says, clearly laying on the happy shtick, “and what a send off it would be to help us out with this little policy breaker here.” Mel says as her hands rest on the teal hued lid of my cage.

Still pensive and yet intrigued Sarah, looking at me and back to Mel, really starts to think over the prospect of forcing a colleague to, what sounds like, literally live in her shoe for a week totally under her control with no apparent downside.

I lay there struggling to move, staring up in desperate hope and wishing that this Sarah girl decides to pass on having me as a roommate for her toes. I get so focused on it I accidentally slip up and think aloud.

“Please say no Sar...” I clam up halfway through the last word dropping, knowing I fucked up. I can see through the teal tinted plastic, a now very angry Mel, staring at me between her massive fingers resting on the lid. 

“Sounds like someone got their voice back.” Mel says with a bit of contempt through a well trained smile.

Sarah, surprised by the clear outburst from the seemingly unconscious 1 inch man in a cage in front of her, quickly shifts into her chair a bit unnerved knowing she was contemplating a conscious man's foot filled fate right over his very small head.

I wonder what she’ll do now, I think to myself… did I somehow manage to accidentally say the right thing to get off of this weeks counseling?

 

 

“Soooo he’s awake?” Sarah says in a bid to regain her composure while straightening her posture. She clearly thought I was unconscious and in no way was prepared to hear my voice which had just echoed through the small (to them at least!) room. 

You see, I had just slipped up and said a thought allowed. Just a little one you know. Just about how I had hoped that Sarah would say no to essentially stuffing me in her shoe like it was some plausible form of counseling is all. I mean, as fun as it sounds to the odd side of me, it's also not so fun sounding with all the heat and all the hurt from all the walking and the stomping and the smothering… you get the picture right?

Mel of course cuts in swiftly, like a word surgeon, expertly controlling the conversation above, “Yes, of course he is, and there is no reason to be alarmed Sarah. He is only audible from within here.” she says as she stands up from her seat and taps the teal lid hard enough to make a plastic-y sound while getting to look extra ominous. Towering over my cell like the titans of mythology. The tap was loud enough to trigger the hidden mic in the cage and it resonated the same for me, just louder over the speakers in the room. She then rested her right hand on the lid over the handle. It creaked slightly under the little weight she gave it and the fainest clicking could be heard as her well manicured nails unknowingly connected with the plastic here and there. This view was giving me an eerie understanding of how diminutive my stature is compared to her.

“See?” Mel continues, “And outside of this cage he has such a low volume, kind of like a quiet whisper only with a very high pitch to it.” Mel says very nonchalantly.  

(I’ll show you a whisper you fuckin…mmm, nope... don’t say anything out loud just yet you dummy! Not sure I want to find out what those consequences are gonna be if riding in a shoe is the main gig, so, deep breaths...)

“Oh?” responds Sarah, “Well that's good to know I guess… fooorrrr...” she hangs on the R a bit, looking like she really didn’t know how to finish the sentence.

“For when you have him in counseling,” Mel finishes for Sarah, “Clearly you wouldn’t want, well... initially, it’s death threats then the cries of anguish or, least of all, pleas for mercy to be heard,” Mel states with a look of disgust briefly appearing in her features, “especially when you're in the middle of talking with say, a customer or colleague. Could be a bit weird trying to explain why your shoe is begging you to take it off right?” 

“Oooh, I get you. It’s a bit darker than I thought it was going to be maybe but, point taken.” Sarah says, apparently accepting Mels explanation. Almost like it was a concern Mel cleared up that Sarah didn't even know she had. 

Then, just before Mel chimes in again Sarah says, “Almost like, if a tree falls in the woods and no one is around to hear it. Like, did it happen as far as anyone else is concerned?”

(What, am I suddenly not human or something?? I’m an “Anyone” too damn it, ugh, just get to a point where I can safely talk so I can give my 2 cents on all this nonsense going on!)

“Exactly right Sarah, great analogy.” Mel replies impressed with how fast Sarah was catching on. “So there are really no worries if you maybe didn’t want other colleagues to find out you were counseling Mr. Soft this week. 

“Wow well... ok so, that's not what I was thinking about initially but, now that you say that…” Sarah pauses and with a curious smirk, looks down at me through my cage. 

“Yeah, our data shows it's usually not a question folks address right away and is usually the biggest blocker in the end.” Mel says matter of factly. “No one wants to be morally misjudged by someone who doesn't understand the context of the counseling you're providing.”

“Yeah, totally right, that could kill my social media presence which could mean goodbye internship, but again… who would really know right?” Sarah says hand to her chin, head nodding and far more contemplative and enthusiastic then I’d like to see. 

“Now, Sarah, normally we would fully introduce the subject once the volunteer accepts the role of department counselor.” She says, shrugging her shoulders a bit, then looking at me again through my cage's ceiling. “Mr. Soft here was supposed to humor me and be quiet until prompted since I can't shut this broken mic off, but as you heard earlier, he is a bit of a trouble maker.”

I start to open my mouth to finally verbally protest but I see Mel’s eyes lock onto mine and flare large then squint as if lasers were going to fire out. This, I took, as a “stay quiet or die” kind of look so my mouth instinctively closed, uttering nothing in the process, not even an exhale. 

Mel reasserts eye contact with Sarah and continues, “Now, I can see him being awake has startled you a bit, but I do hope it does not impact your decision to take on the role of your department's counselor. I want to reiter-”  

Sarah suddenly interrupts Mel’s spiel as she was intensely scanning my tiny form, “That's just so weird, he kinda looks like my Ex Jason. Can I like, talk to him or vice versa?” Her curious eyes lingering over my miniscule body which was finally beginning to tingle 100% all over. 

(YES! Thank you Sarah, can I talk now please!)

Seems the shrink tasers shock is finally starting to wear off. I could wiggle my fingers a little and I know I can talk now from my slip up earlier. Now I just need my body to wake up the rest of the way and maybe I can at least speak my case from a proper position outside of a spread eagle. Maybe I can make Sarah feel guilty enough to skip having a sentient coworker being forced under her, party hosed and likely smelly toes.

“Oh, no no, not yet. I am sorry Sarah, but you two may not talk just yet.” Mel says releasing her monolithic sized hands grip from the top of my cage and sitting back down. “Not unless you fully accept the role as a Peddy.”

A little confused by the sudden use of the word Peddy, Sarah asks, “You mean Department Counselor right? What's a Peddy besides getting your nails done” 

“P.E.D. - D.E. (Department of Enlightenment) is the acronym for our volunteers so we started to call them Peddy’s for short.” Mel smiles as she replies, obviously happy with that nickname.

“Oh my God, that’s so frikin cute and kind of a catchy title.” Sarah says appearing even more onboard, “Is that something I can put down on my resume? Like, Peddy Counselor Stamper?” She giggles a little at her wordplay.

“Well, I guess you could if you wanted. I mean, I’d definitely vouch for you Sarah but with some limitations of course, like not telling the public its true meaning,” Mel says with a light laugh and a selling smile, “oh and the first issue being you having to accept the role.” Mel says getting serious again, “So, what do you say Sarah? Will you help us out with this small nuisance?” She states nodding towards me.

(Wait, thats it!? When do I get to talk? Is it seriously after she accepts the role!? What in the actual fuck dude!)

Sarah ponders for a moment before she leans over my cage, resting her elbows on the table and says, “Ok Mel so… here’s like, the thing. It's a little embarrassing, but as you know the backstory a little bit we can kind of cut to the chase. Do you remember me mentioning earlier that I was out all night and it was a bit of a rough one with me being all irresponsible and partying and stuff.” Sarah says rather bluntly.

“Your candor is totally appreciated Sarah and I do recall you mentioning something about it, yes.” Replies Mel, crossing her right leg over her left and folding her arms as she leans back in her seat, calmly getting into a familiar position of power for herself. Readying to bat away any excuse Sarah may have I’m sure.

“Right, ok so I uh, also kind of mentioned I wasn't able to swap out of my lucky party nylons to make sure I made it into work on time this morning.” Sarah says a bit embarrassed as her cheeks slightly redden, masking some of her light freckles, looking away from Mel and twisting her grimey work shoes under her chair.

“And?” Mel says, as if unfazed.

(And!?...AND!? did she not just hear her?)

Somewhat stupefied Sarah continues, eyes a little squinty, “Aaannd, well, if I had known I was going to be taking on a role where I was going to have to “counsel” a one inch man by stuffing him into my shoes and under these bad girls,” she says slapping her calf, “I would’ve at least showered for the little guy. I mean, the pedicure is only a few days old but still, Mel, these are my “lucky” party hose.” Sarah says with some air quotes, “ Like, I’ve had these sheer’s for the past 7 Ari concerts Mel, shit these have been around since Tswiftes first album. I mean, I have gone through so many sheer no show ankle slips just so the soles on my luckys would stay intact from the prolonged use.” Sarah says finally taking a sec with slight concern now being seen in her face.

(Wow well, that's quite a shock right? I mean, she’s coming from the lady side of the gender spectrum here and she is using the same unwashed pair of nylons for just concerts… maybe it's just a weird tick like Tourettes but with nylons? Naaaah, the hell do I know but, thank you Jesus that Sarah is at least attempting to be reasonable here.)

A semi-quizzical look hits Mel just before she replies…

“And?” yet again... as if unfazed.

(oh, she is fuckin crazy is what she is, fuckin mad as a hatter this one. Deaf much!? Lucky Party Hose = Bad Idea for Tiny Man, OK!)

“And?...” Sarah says, almost stunned by Mel still not seeming to get it, “And, they haven't been washed once.” Sarah says with a little more vigor and a dash of disgust in her tone, trying to get her point across. 

“Mel, the last time these saw the barrel of a washer was like 2005, ok?” Really getting on a roll to try and get her point across now, Sarah continues on divulging her smelly truth. “Sure, I only wear them for concerts and major ragers, but Mel, look at my Gram from the last month and I have been to a few concerts and parties ok; I’ve already worn through 4 of my little no show  “protector’s” and I’m sure these ones I have on now have got to be getting close, oh! and bt dub’s Mel; do you happen to know where I like to keep these lucky items between each use? Hm? You wanna know how I store these babies?” Sarah asks, grabbing a breath finally.

(Woah wait, concerts AND parties…??)

“Where?” Replies Mel, head cocked and clearly intrigued to find out.

Sarah leans back in her seat, arms crossing, she looks off to her left appearing a bit ashamed to admit this bit, “In the toe of my lucky track shoes, OK; and those have been with me since my feet stopped growing in highschool.”

Mel, intrigued by this revelation, presses Sarah, “Please, there’s no need to feel embarrassed Sarah. I have my own little rituals myself, but if you don’t mind me asking, how did you come about this habit that appears to be thinking “lucky” equates to unwashed footwear?”

Sarah, still a little flushed, turns back to Mel and says, “I just always have. I saw my mom do it when I was really little and ever since she passed when I was in highschool I’ve done it. I’ll take them out if I use the trainers and when I’m done I shove these suckers as deep into the toe section as I can or like, take the nylons out for some fun and stuff them right back in when thats done, rinse and repeat. I know its weird OK and its like a dead mom thing too so, don’t judge alright...” Sarah Pauses for a moment.

(Dear God girl! I get the whole wanting to keep mom alive with something she did but like there's got to be a better way to go about it right?)

Sarah goes on, losing steam as she does, “ and besides, It’s so the luck like… never gets lost, it merges together and… well… keeps them all extra lucky. Like rollover minutes but… with luck you know...” Sarah finishes, trailing off a bit, watching her left index finger trace invisible circles on the clear table.

(Oh well, there you have it folks, the real reasons just plain old superstition... I guess that is a perfectly good reason to, NO! No Sarah, thats not a good excuse for what you’ve done and are doing, its a pretty fuckin lame excuse for an awfully smelly habit that I can only describe as… as... so hot, NO! Jesus Nick, pull yourself together man. Its nasty is what it is… nasty!)

The look of bafflement from Mel after hearing this lingers for a moment before her brain train hopped back on track “Oh my Sarah, that is an extensive list of good reasons for at least myself to avoid those feet of yours, but honestly Sarah, I wouldn’t worry about that too much.” Mel scoffs a little trying to lessen the fragrant description impact she just heard and says, “We know feet can smell a bit sometimes, that's just a part of life, and well, the subjects that signed up to be apart of this policy, such as Mr. Soft here, were to take that into consideration prior to signing which is listed right here in addendum a27 subsection B paragraph 45.” 

(Uuuum, excuse me?... You even got smells covered... Christ, nevermind, I’m sure it is. In the finest fucking print it sounds like too…. fucking corporate lawyers...)

“No way!?… Really?” Replies Sarah glancing at me as she grabs the document from Mel who was now handing it to Sarah, pointing to the text that no doubt backed her statement. As Sarah reads it, her demeanor becomes visibly different. 

(Oh fuck, is she actually coming around to the idea!?) 

She leans down past her waist a bit to her right and looks at her old grungy non slip black on black Skechers. Her nose twitches a little as she gets low into the lean. She cringes a little shaking her head then raises quickly looking back at Mel. 

“No wait, oh my god, what am I thinking, when I lifted the covers off of me this morning, my foot funk permeated my whole damn room. Mel, that's just too much for someone to take, even at full size. Especially with him having to be like, right there, ya know just stuck within the source of it all.” She says this, reeling back a bit at the thought of forcing someone in there. 

Sarah covers her nose a bit in reminiscent disgust as she continues, “I mean, even I was cringing as I put my feet into these shoes this morning knowing full well how bad they are and I’m the one that uses ancient running shoes and lucky nylons on the reg.” says Sarah's last remaining scrap of dignity, clearly attempting to push against the idea of doing the extremely inhumane act Mel was asking her to do. 

“Like, seriously Mel, I can already feel them sliding around in these old work beaters and I haven't even really started my shift yet. Hell, lets put a cherry on top.” Sarah adds, recalling even more about here attire, “I even bought these particular shoes knowing I would never replace them until I quit this job. Just the smell from them alone would probably kill this little guy.” She pushes forward, looking at me with true concern for me, “See, even right now, it's like when you sit in your car and can kind of smell the exhaust when idling in a parking lot. Like, no big deal really. It’s not too smelly, but what you are asking for is some stranger to essentially lock their lips around the tailpipe while I rev the engine girl.” Her shoe below pumps an imaginary pedal as she says this, looking to me with disgust/sympathy as I stare back with two very conflicting emotions. 

A desperate longing to know what that intensely described smell was like, as well as severe rejection of ever wanting to truly experience it. Driven by the fear of not wanting to be subjected to such an obviously powerful stench in such a meek and helpless form.

Mel, listening to Sarah's concerns about her foot odor and my safety, nods her head a few times in contemplation and then carefully responds, 

“I do, very much, understand your concerns about the smell Sarah, I truly do, but I want you to remember that the subject here has gone through Particle Enhancement and is highly resistant to all the things you would consider normally dangerous for say a bug, heck, even a full size human. We have extensively tested subjects in extreme conditions close, if not slightly worse then what you just described, and all of those subjects are alive and well today. Mr. Soft may very well be “uncomfortable” in the outlined circumstances but, he will be 100% safe thanks to our technical strides, I assure you. Safe from all the smells, the crushing heel pressure, the playfully strong toe scrunching, all of it Sarah I promise. No. I guarantee he'll be safe.”

(...NO WAY THOSE “LAB RATS” ARE OK LADY!!! And what could be slightly worse then what Sarah just described right? I like feet but, man, I can't imagine something like this not mentally and emotionally changing somebody for life. Your just lying to pawn me off and check a box on your forms you bitch…)    

“Wow, you really want this to happen, ok just, I need a minute to really think this through, ok? Just a second this is…. This is not something I was ever expecting today so like UUURRGH, you know.” Sarah says with some nervous laughter and miming the act of pulling out ones hair.

A minute in and Sarah's gaze on me starts to feel different. I could see her right hand move down and under the clear table my plastic cage rested upon. She idly plays with her faded black shoelaces dangling from her left foot she had crossed over her knee. We sit there for a good 3 minutes in silence as Sarah contemplates the apparent pro’s and con’s of taking part in Mel’s proposition pertaining to my fate. 

My stare never waivers from Sarah’s and my face was shifting between the “please don’t” and “don’t do it, please” faces.

Eventually the time was up and Sarah's head tilts back and forth a few times as she slowly breaks the silence,

“Oooooooh… (Please no, please no, please no) Oook. Why not....

(..fml..) I’ll likely be gone next week anyways thanks to the new internship so, I’ll never even have to worry about any awkward social situations from running into this guy after he gets back to normal size right?” Sarah says with a little relief in her voice, tossing me a sideways “sorry-esque” glance and then immediately pearly whites and smiles to Mel.

“Alright! That's the spirit Sarah!” Mel exclaims happily, “ And besides, you would have only dealt with him if he had earned the right of being normal size after the counseling reviews come in.”

Mels happy demeanor having won the battle and obtaining my first Peddy counselor effortlessly shifted into business mode. “Which is a good reminder to not forget to fill out your review about your time with this little one,” Mel says as she gestures at my cage, “and besides all the corporate mumbo jumbo, remember that he deserves it, ok Sarah. He stole from the Cafe you slave in daily to get here in this predicament.”

“You’re totally right Mel and you know what, I think I can help counsel this little thief back onto the right path… or at least we know he’ll never steal from the cafe again” Sarah says to Mel, laughing and shaking her head at me now, “So like, since you stole from the cafe, that means you slighted me and my cafe compadres little guy.” pointing to herself and then the massive door in the background as she says it. “and now? Well, the only thing you’ll be stealing is gasping breaths of muggy air from inside of my,” Her head cocks upward as a silver painted index fingernail lightly touches her bottom lip in contemplation, “two… no wait three! Holy crap, yeah, three year old work shoes.” She exclaims with a devilish tone and devious look.

(Dear God... no... She’s fully turned… Mel did it… And wow, it was so easy for her too… Does another's life truly mean that little to strangers even within the same company? For her to have been so easily swayed after knowing what she will be doing to me is nuts. Yeah, I know she’s essentially a stranger that flipped a burger or two for me over the years but... are humans really that heartless towards those that aren't in their little social bubbles…?)

The tingles in my body are just now subsiding, but quickly get replaced with fear triggered goose bumps. The lid to my cage suddenly snaps open and I quickly jump to my feet.

“Oh, looks like you're all better now huh? You were playing possum I see, Mr. Soft?” Mel says as her right hands pink nail polished fingers reach into my cell trying to grab me from its confines.

“No, come on lady’s, please! You don’t have to do this! The threat of being confined to that woman's shoe alone has scared me to conformity I fucking promise! ” I yell desperately juking to and fro between Mels fingers, all of my panting and pleading being heard clearly in the room above, “Sarah! Sarah please! I didn't steal anything! I put the money on the damn counter for fucks sake; I just couldn't wait in line cause something came up, I swear! Please Sarah, you gotta believe me!”

“MmmHmm, Thats a likely story coming from a little swear jar of a man who is just unwilling to accept his due punishment, even after he signed up for it himself.” Says Mel whose well manicured fingers continue trying to pluck me from the cage, endlessly chasing me around as I just barely dodge and weave out of their grasp. 

(Holy shit!? I am surprisingly spry and nimble at this size, probably thanks to the reduction somehow. I guess shrinking does enhance you pretty damn good physically cause I am definitely feeling better than usual.)

“Sorry you little Softy but, you signed up for this and then decided to go ahead and mess up anyway.” Sarah says with a fake pouty face I would catch a glimpse of occasionally as I ran about my acrylic cell, 

“So, as your very first Peddy Counselor,” She giggles, getting her  lightly freckled face with yesterdays spruced up make-up right up to the cage's side, watching Mel’s failed attempts at grabbing me.

“I am going to have to show you what life is like in the Cafe… From like, a line cooks shoes of course.” She taps her left shoe as she says this to my scrambling form. “And it’ll be my last good deed for C.G.T.S. before I leave. Heck, I may even get some kind of resume candy out of it thanks to the nifty title. Which, I’ll be sure to thank you for by adding in a few extra hugs into your counseling regiment.” Sarah says appearing truly grateful and then adds, “Obviously these hugs will come by way of my sweaty toes of course. Can’t have any slack in your upcoming routine right!?” Sarah finishes, giggling openly, while her toes violently wiggled and shook her left shoe clad foot about. The toes bulging up the front of the shoe, straining the cracking and fading patent leather. 

“Right you are,” Mel says with a tone of escalating frustration. “Ok you little buggy son of a... that's it!” Mels right hand suddenly lifts from the cage and grips one of the clear walls, I could see her four finger prints mashed to the outside and her pink thumb nail within. Reaching out her left hand, her face looking to Sarah, “just hand me the shoe you would like Mr. Soft to be in.” Her fingers in unison curling a few times in a gesture of “give it to me” is out awaiting to be handed what was requested.

“One “chamber of the line cook secrets” coming up Mel,” Sarah says happily uncrossing her legs and looking between her two grungy shoe clad feet, “Uuummm, I guess I’ll go with the left since I’m left handed or footed, I should say.” laughing lightly as she’s leaning down. She shuffles around a bit and with a short lived struggle her shoe pops off. Revealed, is a dulled and worn down black nylon low cut sock over the foot of the swirly faded party nylons just as Sarah said.

From beneath the top view of the low cut nylon I see what used to be silver swirls now appearing worn to a faint outline of what they used to be. There also appears to be a small hole atop the gap between her big and second toes on the underlying themed nylon that seemed to glisten slightly with sweat even through the black mesh, showing off a small peek of silver nail polish from near the cuticles. Seems she has matched her fingers and toes with that same sparkly silver.

 

“Oh god, yeah *cough* that's really bad. Oh wow, I am like so sorry Mel” Sarah says embarrassed and covering her nose as she hands over the shoe.

“Holy crap, Sarah, did you open a bag of like, sea salt and bleu cheese corn chips, geez?” Mel teases a bit, turning her nose away as she grabs the shoe. 

“Hey! Come on Mel, I warned you! OMG, but you’re right they reek so bad. Shit, didn't I tell you Mel. I told you they were a bit “extra” today!” Sarah's freckles disappear as she blushes from embarrassment.

“Oh please Sarah, I was kidding, I’ll be just fine,” Mel points her nose in the opposite direction as she lifts my cage and begins to tilt it to a corner. The smell of Sarah's shoe hits me with an astonishing amount of fragrant force before I even see the dank dark pit I was destined for. 

(Mel pretty much nailed it on the smell besides a bit more musky-ness and it probably being 100 times more potent at my size.) 

“This little guy however,” she states as I slam into the plastic corner and begin to slide down it to where the ceiling had snapped on. 

“Well, lets just say he may have a very different opinion.” Mel says laughing vindictively, watching me toboggan perfectly down the rounded clear plastic corner under her control.

My hands instinctively clasped over my nose as I see the gaping mouth of Sarah's 2, no sorry, 3 year old Skechers eagerly waiting to accept me. I try to turn and clamber at the plastic, fiercely holding my breath as I slide, but the angles just too steep. Plus the heat and humidity that was wafting up to me was already beginning to sapp away my strength. 

In what feels like slow motion, I tumble from my cage.

Between the rotations of my fall, I see the deformed remains of what was the once proud logo and slogan on the insole. The motto mostly intact with the letters “Sk” all but rubbed out. The barely legible remainder on the insole now read to me as; 

“Snap  - U  "

"  rech   ”

Which was feeling awfully apropos to the absurd situation I found myself in, triggering the feeling of being downgraded to the company title of “Wretch" all while the air was growing hotter and muggier by the millisecond as I get ever closer to finishing my fall. 

The mouth of the shoe now begins to slide up past my peripheral. My eyes no longer able to clearly see through all the tearing up thanks to the odorous wind whipping past me. I can literally feel the air's moisture clinging to me and trying to begin condensation on my comparatively cooler skin, then;

*plop*

I land with a wet thud, face first where the “S” used to be.

“Holy fuck it stinks in here!” I scream from the cavernous interior of the shoe. Likely expelling the last remains of clean air I was holding onto.

“Oh wow, you really can't tell what he is saying at that size, there's just these barely audible squeaks.” Sarah muses, “That's so crazy!” She exclaims with a small bounce of giddy exclamation.

“Isn't it though?” Mel says with her face still pointed away from my new cheesy smelling chambers as she hands Sarah back her shoe.

I manage to struggle/flip over onto my back even with all the jarring movements just as Sarah positions and drops the shoe to the floor. My world suddenly free falls as I lift a few feet, to me, from the floor only to slap back onto the swampy insoles surface. I look up to see Sarah's face upside down looking at me as I lay resting inside her shoes heel cup.

“Oh woah, that is just such a weird sight to see,” Sarah says almost whimsically taking in the view before her, “A small, tiny, little 1 inch man, who happens to look an awful lot like my Ex, laying on the sweaty worn out insole of my nasty non-slip Shape-Ups… it is waaay too early in the morning for this right, I have to be aslee,” Her trance ends as she snaps out of her odd appreciation of the view and starts to reposition herself.  Her face pulling far off into the distance. Her sheer silver swirled nylon rises up and I truly see one of them for the first time.

He pale cream colored foot, masked behind and barely seen through the clearly worn and now very transparent sheer stocking layers. A few runs in the soles here and there but, they are surprisingly thin for how many times they seem to have been worn recently. Vibrant silver painted toes that were probably pedicured days ago, flash their brilliance at me here and there as her toes wiggle above. I notice a dime sized hole in the outer sock that had torn open just under her playful toes near the pad of her shapely younger foot.

As it begins to tilt and lower to cram itself into my new “Counseling Quarters” Mel stops her for a moment. “Oh one sec Sarah,” I see Mels familiar pink polish come into view and grab the back of the shoe I’m in. It lifts and sends me sliding down into the darker more pungent confines of the grimey work sneaker. As I slide I see the size tag on the tongue, barely legible as well. I think I see what looks to be a 1 then a space for another long worn off number and what looks to be a ½ as well. 

(Thats a decently sized foot for a woman, she must be at least 6 feet or taller to have a foot that big.) 

To a normal sized person they’d seem a little big but, to my small frame they were like, Giga Godzilla sized. I could easily be scrunched comfortably under her toes at my height which was probably going to happen if I kept sliding.

Mel finally dropped the back of the Sketcher and the light dimmed like she was looking into the shoe. I was just past where the lace starts near the toe, I could see a few cracks of light fighting their way in from above and lighting the shoe around the tongue and lace holes. It was just enough to see that I was leaning against a slight rise in the raunchy moist floor. I stand up trying to wipe my wet hand on something but my bare thigh would have to do. 

I peer around the hot and humid shoe while trying out every conceivable way of covering my nose in feeble attempts at stopping this girls foot funk from attacking my olfactory receptors, 

“Ok Sarah, now that we got him settled, here is the pamphlet for what you can’t do.” I hear from Mel far above.

“Wow, that's thin.” Sarah replies.

“Well, they are practically indestructible at that size.” Mel says coyly, “And here is a binder of suggested activities and training we have come up with, but you can of course make it up as you go.”

“Oh wow, that's thick!” Sarah exclaims, laughing, as I hear pages turn, “Oh no that's so mean… oh look at that one, woooah, would have never thought of that… holy shit even that's ok to do to him!”

“Yes, yes, it wouldn't be in there if we hadn't made sure it was tested.” says Mel as a heavy paper thud is heard on the table above.

(Oh dear god, what's in the binder!)

“Alright, you're good to go Sarah, try to keep him at your toes for the most part today ok, he is still kinda fresh in terms of reduction and to be safe he will need one more day for him to reach peak durability, but he’s had enough time to incubate and with your stellar employee records I expect he’ll be fine.”

(Oh yeah cause records are just oh so fucking truthful…)

“Awww thanks for the trust Mel,” Sarah replies as she peers down at her shoe and says, “you hear that little guy? Sounds like its only gentle smelly toes on the menu for today. I guess I’ll have to wait to dish out some real punishment for your crimes tomorrow.”

Mel interjects, “Oh uh, Counseling is the term we like to use in lieu of the term punishment.” 

“Oh, my bad Mel; I can’t wait to dish out some real “Counseling”.” Sarah says winking at Mel, just as her left sheer double nylon clad foot lowered into the mouth of the shoe.

“Here I come little guy, better get in position, I may have trouble maneuvering you with all of these pesky old nylons on.” Sarah's sheer covered silver clad digits appear above me, dropping to the floor at the heel, forcing the shoe to mold and rock to her foots whims. The toes lift and I see the edge of the little dime sized hole on the shielding nylon slip into view before they slam back down closer as if she was walking them towards me. Each rise and fall wafted an intense heat wave of cheesy salty aroma that so badly wanted to be stale as well, but was being pressured into revitalizing its pungent history thanks to all the fresh sweat and heat. More savory than vinegary and cloying to the lungs with all the moisture they emitted with each wave. It was like New Orleans on the hottest most humid day of the year times 10. Her playful teasing knocked me on my ass easily so I swapped to all fours and try to crawl up the slight rise that I assumed was caused by the lack of toe or foot, meaning it was my unfortunately pungent sweet spot. Being caught up and wedged right into the crevice of the under toe was likely the worst place to end up in terms of smell, but also the safest in terms of pressure.

As I lay down on my back I notice the more toyed with and cushey nature of the under toe hump had allowed it to hold more moisture than the rest of the well worn insole. Soaking my naked form further, thanks to its oily thick nature making me feel heavier and a bit sticky with no scrap of me untouched by her perspiration. I gag a little as her toes finally reach me and lifted above my measly “wretch” of a body.

They came down on me with unanticipated force, she was off center and her big toe mashed into my little body forcing all the air out of my lungs. I hear distant muffled voices.

“OH! I feel him under my big toe! OOoooh poor little guy,” She says as her toe lifts and pats me into the squishy under toe hump a few times, forcing me to take in and then loose deep breaths with each heavy tap, inadvertently and forcefully controlling my breathing. Making me suck in far more funk then one likely should, “it must be “Sketch” as hell in there for him,” Sarah says, laughing at her horrible shoe pun, “hahaha... Now deep breaths little one, I want to feel that little nose sucking in as much air as it can, you hear me?” Her toe lifts after a few more heavy taps and finally passes over me. Sarah then let her foot fully drop on me again a little more on the rough side.

I was stuck right where I thought I’d be. Head pointing towards her big toe nestled under her second with my feet heading towards the pinky but not making it past her third, lying on my back and held down tightly by her snug sheer nylon that didn't have enough fabric to let some roll up under her toes thank god. These were just stretched taught from toe to heel perfect at keeping me immobile under her sweaty stinky toes as they heavily scrunch and flex above me. Probably trying to locate my little body beneath them in vain attempts at Sarah's version of a hug.

“Alright, I think he is in the perfect spot... I think...” a likely grinning and muffled Sarah says as she taps her shoe a few times, sending my brain spinning. 

“Great! Well, I will see you Monday morning for drop off. Dont forget the review paperwork and have a great time counseling, Peddy Officer Stamper.” Mel says muffled above in an excited cadence. 

With my new position I could almost feel Sarah laughing through her body as her toes writhed on top of me my world began rocketing forward and crashing downward, rocketing forward and crashing downward, over and over. 

(Fuck, this was not going to be easy, my heads already swimming from this overwhelming smell from her unwashed feet and nylons but, now I have to deal with this constant rollercoaster ride too?)

“Oh I will Mel! Thanks for talking me into this, I won't let you down.” Sarah says as I hear a door open.

“You are so very welcome Sarah!” is the last thing I can make out before a door closes and there are just too many muffled office sounds to make out clear speech anymore.

Sarah then continues on towards the cafe no doubt. My smelly nylon encased toe ceiling  continues mashing downwards, the underside of her long second toe just barely dropping and scraping at my nose each step, almost as if it were taunting me.

We stop for a moment and then take a few steps before turning on the ball of the foot I was almost under. The heel then lifts backwards and up, resting against something causing her toes to mash down into me and past me a little, forcing me under the soft beginning of the ball of her cheesy squishy foot. Nose enveloped by her oppressive smelly skin I feel the floor start to shake and we begin to fall slowly. Must be the elevator and she's leaning on the back wall, hope this is quick I am starting to fade. I attempt to struggle, but it only uses up what little feet infused air I had packed into my mini lungs. Just as the elevator stops her foot lifts  off the wall, allowing me to suck in the toxic oxygen blend only to just as quickly mash it out of me on her follow through stride, right before I could nab any of its much needed oxygenated resource, forcing me to abruptly blackout.