You were Ryan - a 21 year old with a rather unimpressive skill set - which is why the only halfway-decent job you had been able to hold down was stocking shelves at Better Buy It - a second-rate computer hardware and electronics store. You were especially unhappy as of late, because the past week you had been passed over for a promotion in favor of some upstart 17-year-old girl named Sara - she had "potential" or "initiative" or whatever, according to corporate. 

It was certainly true that she was a hard worker, but she had really drank the company kool-aid, and put WAY too much stock into what, as far as you were concerned, was a dead-end job at a half-rate gizmo reseller. Nonetheless, the district manager had scheduled you two together for the rush at the end of the week, and you had to come in half an hour early to stock shelves and prepare the store. 

You tossed another box lazily onto the shelf and sighed. It was going to be another long, run-of-the-mill day. 

If only you knew just wrong you were about that. 

You start to feel dizzy, leaning against one of the racks for support, as the world starts to spin and whirl around you. Your throat felt like it was filled with cotton, the room around you seeming to pulse and swirl before rushing away in every direction - your uniform feels loose around you, and then you put it all together. 

You were so sure it was a myth, you didn't even bother taking any precautions. Even the news was reporting that it was some sort of urban legend - the Shrinking Virus that had been supposedly linked to a dozen or so strange disappearances across the globe. But there was no mistaking it. By the time you manage to gasp out a shout for Sara, it was no more than pathetic little squeak. Your clothes fell around you like the cloth of some comically large circus tent, fluttering in the breeze as your vision tunnels and fades, and you black out. 

-thud-

A heavy impact shakes you into half alertness, your head still swimming. 

-thud-

A second one, louder- closer. 

-THUD-

You finally recognize it for what it was - a footstep. Sara must be making her rounds to micromanage you about the shelf-stocking, or something equally annoying. Only now, you were glad for it. You'd clock yourself at about 30 millimetres tall, or just over an inch or so, and totally naked, your clothes hanging around you as you crawled out of the collar of your work shirt with an aching head. 

Sara rounded the corner with her usual brisk, hurried pace, her brown hair pulled back into a no-nonsense ponytail, uniform crisp and clean as always, clutching a clipboard to one side as she eyed the aisles for you. She pulls up short at the pile of clothes on the carpet, her eyebrows raising in shock. A pair of well-worn Vans shoes park themselves on either side of your clothes pile, and you can make out the teen store manager pinching her brow with a heavy sigh as the thick rubber sole of her sneaker slams into the ground impatiently, nearly knocking you back on your ass. 

"What the hell is it now..." She mumbles under her breath, and leans down, her mere movement generating a gust of air that you feel sweep across your skin, ruffling your hair back. She pokes and prods at the clothing pile, seeing your name badge on the fabric. "Ryan?"  Her eyes narrow, and you wave your arms frantically, desperate to grab her attention. 

"Oh my god." She says, and you are surprised to hear that her tone is more akin to annoyance, instead of shock. "Ryan?!" She says, her breath rolling over you, smelling thickly of coffee. 

"Thank god, Sara!" You say, your voice barely audible. 

"You would pull some shit like this in our busy season!" Sara says, throwing her hands into the air. "Ryan, do you know how much harder this is going to make things for me?" 

"E-excuse me?" You say, bewildered. 

Without another word, Sara spins off on one heel, and leaves you there. You start to panic - what the hell was she doing? Why wasn't she helping you?

After what feels like an eternity, though, you feel that pounding in the earth return, and Sara rounds the corner with a stern expression and a Kleenex, abruptly squatting down over you as she mumbles something under her breath, plucking you up in the white sheet of cotton without so much as a word. 

The next few moments are nothing but intense, whirling motion as she walks, swinging the hand holding you around in a white-tinted wad of Kleenex, before you are unceremoniously dumped onto the front desk, where Sara begins typing furiously. 

She glances back to the clock, and then to your tiny form. You feel a sinking feeling in your gut, and the world gets ever-so-slightly bigger around you. 

"Sara!" you cry up at her, panic starting to well. "Jesus, can you call 911 or something?" 

She winces, before catching herself. 

"Well - I totally would, but ..." She pauses. "It'd looked really bad if I had a bunch of ambulances parked out in front right before open, yeah?" She says, as if it were some mild inconvenience. "And It's my first week at this new store... I really need to make a good impression, you understand, right?" She says, batting her eyelashes at you. 

You stare, dumbfounded. "Uh, you're joking, right?" 

She sighs. "No, Ryan. Unlike some people, I really care about this job?" She knits her brow. "I'll figure something else out, okay? I really don't have time for this." She says, and you can see the bags under her eyes from working late nights. 

You try to make your voice sound understanding. "Sara... Listen, just close for the day. This is like, a medical emergency. They'll understand." You give a nervous smile. 

"Are you out of your mind?" She snaps. "Close for the day? When we're this close to hitting goal? Throw away my future because some stock boy couldn't do his job and go home?" She barks. She seems to catch herself, taking a deep breath. "Sorry, Ryan. I'm just... stressed." 

You feel your mouth open and closed, a bit shocked by the intensity of her reply. 

"I'll think of something, okay?" She says, Googling on the computer and nervously eyeing the clock. You nervously shift your weight from one foot to another, before that similar feeling hits, the weight in the pit of your stomach, and Sara gets perceptibly larger, her keystrokes deeper and louder. You see her bite her lip. 

"Uh... Ryan.." She says, looking down at you. "So uh... there's not a lot of stuff on the Web about this, obviously, but everything I found says that there's no cure?" 

You go pale. "What?" 

She winces, and plays with her hair a bit. "It uh - there's more." 

She glances at the clock, again. "But if I tell you, you have to promise to drop it until the end of the shift, okay?" She says, sternly. 

You hesitate. "I... maybe."

"I mean it! you have to swear you'll just sit tight until I can think of something to help, okay? Or else I won't tell you any more." She says, and you can see she's dead serious. Why did it have to be her?

"Fine." You say, sensing you don't have much choice in the matter. 

Sara takes a deep breath. "So, apparently once you're infected... uh, you get small, of course.." she trails off, looking side to side. 

"Yeah...?" You say - that much was painfully obvious. 

"Well, and you might've noticed this already, but... it doesn't stop." She winces. "Like, you don't stop shrinking. Like... ever?" She gives a grin and a nervous shrug. 

You feel your heart skip a beat in your chest. "W-what!?" You step forward. "Are you fucking kidding me? We have to do something, Sara!" You start to panic. 

"Dude." She says. "You promised." She crosses her arms. "And, like, I get you're upset, and I'm sorry this happened to you? But, like - you can't talk to me like that. I'm still your boss, remember?" 

You feel your world spin as you lose a bit more height. "SARA! DO SOMETHING! FUCK THIS JOB!" You scream, your tiny voice squeaking. 

"Okay, first of all? I am doing something - my job. Plus, now I have to do your job, too - Like, It sucks that this happened to you but think about something besides yourself for a second?" She says, and puts her hands on the counter. 

"Okay, listen. I have an idea to help you, but you can't freak out at me like that." She says, and you'd wager you're roughly 30 millimetres tall by now. She was  your only shot. 

"Fine. Fine." You say, and take a deep breath in. 

"Okay so, like... you obviously don't want to shrink into nothing, right?" She asks, raising a brow. 

You nod. 

She leans in a little closer, and you can feel the heat radiating from her skin. "And... I can't lose this job, either." She says, and looks at the clock. 

You gulp, nodding. "Y-yeah..." 

"So... we both have problems, right? What if I could solve both of our problems?" She says, and gives a weak smile that covers your entire field of view, trying her best to sound reasonable. 

You listen, frozen to the spot.

"I think if I ... were to... y'know..." She glances out the window, to make sure nobody is at the door. "....'get rid' of  you, well... we'd both benefit from that, right?" She says, with a nervous little grin, her hands gripping the counter. 

"W-wait, you don't mean -" You say, before she cuts you off. 

"Think about it - there's no cure, right? And even if you do get back to normal, it might take forever, and you'll have missed your rent... you'd totally get fired for missing work, and the government probably would want to dissect you and stuff, yeah?" 

She says, glancing nervously at the clock. 

"I guess .... I guess it makes sense if you put it like that..." You mumble. 

"Oh good, good... I was worried that 'get rid of' made it sound too harsh. I'm glad you see what I mean." She laughs nervously and leans in as close as she possibly can. You can tell she is making an effort to breathe slowly and softly, but she seems so excited that her breath creates powerful gusts of wind.

Sara glances at the clock. Ten minutes to open. 

"Uh... do you have any like, quick ... last wishes?" 

You stammer. "I don't.. I didn't really..."

She taps her chin, thoughtfully. "Uh, like... a last orgasm?" She says with a shy smile. 

"Sara!" You protest. 

"What? That's totally like, a a guy thing!" She says, and you are far too taken aback to speak. 

Okay, so... No offense, but I don't really want to like, touch it with my fingers? I have to open and stuff after, y'know?" She winces. "Totally nothing personal... maybe I could like, rub it with my toes?" She offers, and swings one Vans'clad foot up onto the desk. It shakes your whole world, and you fall on your rear. 

"Yeah, lie down like that..." She says, interpreting your silence as agreement, and starting to unlace her Vans. 

"W-wait, Sara -" 

"Relax, dude, you don't have to be shy. I can barely see it anyway." She says, rolling her eyes - you can see she isn't wearing socks. A heavy, cheesy odor washes over you as you clutch your nose and mouth. She winces. "Sorry, it's been really busy... I haven't really had time to do laundry or shower much..." She laughs. "I obviously didn't think I would be doing... y'know, this..." She grins nervously. 

She slides her big and second toes over your legs, and you can feel the thin sheen of sweat over them as she pokes the corner of her tongue out of mouth in concentration, finding your member and shoving it between her toe toes, starting to curl them up and down. 

To your shock and shame, you feel yourself starting to stiffen - you hadn't really been a fan of feet, especially dirty ones - but something about the fear and surreal situation must be overriding your brain in some animal need. 

"So, uh -," she continues, "I want to make this  quick, and super painless, and stuff, yeah? Then we can both move on with our lives -" She bites her lip. "uh - well, I can." The clock indicates that the store is less than eight minutes from opening time as she continues pumping your tiny shaft with her toes. She leans in a bit, then her voice sinks down to a low whisper. "How do you want me to do it?"

You can almost hear a bit of a smile in her voice as she asks, her heart pounding loud enough your tiny ears can hear it. "I was thinking like... the soles of the feet are supposed to be really soft, right?" She says, licking her lips. "And after, I can like, put on my shoe and forget about it, and go back to work. Out of sight, out of mind?" She says, and you can tell she's a bit too excited about the idea.

"W-wait, Sara... are you sure that this is the... the best thing?" You ask, voice shaking. 

"Totally, for the both of us." She nods, and leans back in her chair. A few more minutes pass, youe breathing growing heavy as she milks you. "Is it uh.. .working? Do you want to cum?" She asks, looking nervously at the clock. 

"Uh... I'm not sure.." You say nervously. "I think I might....?" 

Sara nods, and squeezes her greasy toes around your shrinking cock, making you shiver, her cheeks reddening as she looks away. 

A few minutes pass. "Hey uh, dude?" She says. "I know I promised I'd like, do this one last thing for you.... but... It's getting kind of late, and I still have to count the till..." She says, biting her lip. "So I think I'm just going to have to stomp you like we planned. Sorry, dude." she says, and slowly raises her foot over you and your half-dripping cock. 

"But, I promise it'll be totally quick, okay? Just a quick pressure.... and then, like going to sleep! Sounds peaceful ,right?" She says, wriggling her sweaty toes eagerly in the air as she lifts her sole up. There are still 3 minutes left on the clock. 

"W-wait, Sara... It was one thing to talk about it, but now that we're actually doing it - I don't think.." 

Sara looks at the clock, biting her lower lip. "Sorry... I just can't hear you..." She lies, and brings her foot over you. A potent, sweaty musk fills the air as Sara prepares to crush you under her unwashed sole. The very last thing you would ever smell. 

"Buh-bye, Ryan."

Sara had lied - it was nothing like the quick, painless release she had promised. Instead, you were flattened by the greasy wall of hot teen foot flesh, plastered to the ball of her foot as she twisted it on top of the counter, gasping at the crunch you made. You are compressed into a stinking fold of skin as your legs snap, and the clock ticks closer to open. Sara doesn't even check that you're really dead, before she shoves her sweaty bare foot back into her worn-out Vans. You slowly shrink to nothing in the stinking hot hell of her shoe as she works a double shift, and her working toes actually do force an orgasm out of your tiny cock, rubbing up against the sweaty wrinkles of her foot as she works - again, and again, and again, molesting your broken body to pieces. She clocks out and heads home long before you finally shrink small enough to drown in a single droplet of her fresh, steaming foot sweat. By the time you splutter out under the teen girl's rank sole, she had already forgotten all about you. 

The End~