Michelle picked up the clothes off the floor and started searching the pockets. Oliver couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the size of his clothes. The sight told him how big he used to be, and put into perspective how much he had shrunk. He used to tower over Michelle, both physically and in self-esteem, and now he was little more than a bug. Even a house pet would be like a monster as his miniscule stature, and he was beyond thankful (if that was even possible now) that Michelle didn’t have one.

Michelle pulled his wallet and car keys from out of his pants. “Guess you’re not gonna need these anymore!” Michelle teased, waving the keys right in front of him.

“I’m gonna LOVE my new Bentley! But I don’t care for the color though. Black? You always were boring, Oliver. I think I’m gonna take it to the autoshop and have it painted lime-green with pink stripes! It’ll be so freaking dope!” 

The idea that Michelle would vandalize one of his most prized possessions like that was humiliating enough, but it was hardly the beginning. She pulled various credit cards from the wallet, inspecting them all carefully and noting how spread out his fortune truly was.

“Now, slave,” Michelle said confidently. “I feel like doing a bit of online shopping. I’ve got many little goodies on my Amazon wishlist and you’ll be FOOTING the bill!” – Michelle giggled at her horrendous dad joke as she pressed her tiny prisoner into the floor with her even more horrendous foot.

She continued. “The only problem is I don’t know your PIN number. Some sites ask for those when the purchases become suspicious. Now, you’re gonna tell me… or else…”

Oliver was terrified, but he had a very level-headed nature generally and did what he could to keep control of his cognitions. No matter how much his mind raced, he wasn’t about to just give Michelle access to his wealth without restraint. Not without a fight.

“You bitch! You disgusting fucking bitch! I’m down here, afflicted with a never before seen condition and you’re thinking about a shopping spree?! With my money?! Fuck you! Fuck you! You do what’s right—”

*PLOOOOMP*

Oliver was interrupted my Michelle shifting her toes upwards, covering Oliver’s face and functionally gagging him with the fleshy base of her index toe.

Michelle’s face looked flustered. “Alright, now I’m mad, slave. But I get it. This is a new experience for you. It would be foolish of me to not give you a bit of time to adjust to it. But don’t think I won’t make this worse than it already is. FAR WORSE,” she said, pushing his face against the hard floor. “I could easily make your head POP like a grape under my big toes! But that would be too easy. I’d crush every part of your body slowly. You’ll bleed to death in the worst agony imaginable. You’ll be begging for a quick death after only 30 seconds of what I can do. So I’ll ask you again. What is your PIN number? Give me access now and maybe I’ll make this a tad easier for you.”

Oliver didn’t know what to do. The pressure created between the floor and Michelle’s toe was like two brick walls pressing down on his head, and he didn’t trust that Michelle knew her own strength. As much as he hated the idea, he knew that Michelle was dead serious about murdering him right here if he didn’t comply. He thought to himself: “If I can manage to escape, I can fix this and bring her to justice. I’ll be able to get all my money back. The accounts are insured. As long as I prove what happened I’ll get every cent back and this bitch will spend the remainder of her life in solitary confinement.” It was something he had to gamble on.

“It’s in my phone notes. All my passwords and PINs…” he said, sounding reserved.

Michelle raised her foot off him, giving his body much needed relief and allowing him to breathe. “See! Now that wasn’t so hard, was it pet?!” she said condescendingly. She picked him up and went to her computer desk, ready to go on the shopping spree of a lifetime. She not-so-gently dropped Oliver on the table, fired up her PC, and put her feet up right up next to him. Looking over the edge of the desk, Oliver knew any attempted escape from here was suicide. As Michelle hummed to herself and waited for the computer to load up, Oliver couldn’t help but look at the various little figurines Michelle had scattered around her desk. Characters from various anime series, all of whom were Michelle’s property too, but lacked the very thing that brought him suffering – sentience. In many ways, he was envious of them.

Michelle turned her attention to Oliver after bringing up Amazon.

“Now slave… I’m gonna enjoy my day, sitting here. You are NOT going to enjoy your day. You’re going to use what few methods are at your disposal to clean my FILTHY feet!”

She was clearly aware of her own lack of hygiene, and wanted to use it like the weapon-of-mass-destruction it was.

“You… you can’t be serious, Michelle! Your feet are disgusting! I swear, if I stay any closer to them they’ll kill me for sure!”

Michelle frowned, clearly unhappy with such a comment. “You think I won’t kill you anyway, you little piece of shit? Get to work, or I’ll inflict more pain than you can imagine.” She pushed her feet forward into him, knocking Oliver down on his backside. “NOW!”

Oliver had a feeling Michelle was in no mood to tell him twice. With great apprehension he picked himself up and approached her left foot. As it sat vertically on the desk, Oliver couldn’t help but think about the immensity (and foulness) of the task before him. Michelle’s feet were more than 10 times his height! But he had no choice in the matter. He placed his face against Michelle’s calloused heel, and licked.

The disgusting taste had a repellent effect on Oliver. Almost reflexively he threw himself away from the monstrous foot and took a step back. He started coughing and making loud gagging noises.

“Blegh! Fuck, Michelle! That’s fucking foul!” Oliver exclaimed in protest.

Michelle slammed her feet up and down rhythmically, sending quakes through the desk. Her expression looked unmoved. “Did I say I was concerned about you thought about it? You know, for a self-proclaimed smart guy, you’re pretty dumb. Did you lose all your brain cells when you shrank? Clean my fucking feet…. Kiss them while you’re at it too…”

Michelle turned her attention back to the computer, squealing in glee when she spotted an expensive material good she wanted. Oliver didn’t know how he was going to muster it. On one hand, Michelle would kill him violently if he disobeyed, but if he continued he swore that his body would give up on him in some way. Maybe the grime on Michelle’s feet will destroy him immune system? Maybe he’ll be so traumatised that he’ll simply jump off the edge of the desk to his death. As horrible as it sounded, the next course of action was clear. Disobeying was certain death, but obeying only brought about possible consequences. He stepped forward again, laying his face against the sickening, slimy foot and felt nauseated before he even stuck his tongue out again.

Oliver licked it. The same response occurred again as his body urged him to back away, but he fought against that impulse with all of his might. His knees gave out and he dragged his tongue downwards, picking up layers of dirt along the way, but he was still cleaning. Oliver might have been an unempathetic person and condemned many former tenants to the streets before, but he knew inflicting this torture on anybody in the world beyond his capabilities. In this moment, he truly knew what immorality was, and Michelle embodied it. He continued to lick the disgusting foot, working his way in between the little wrinkles that seemed to hide even more dirt and dust than they would seem just by looking at them.

Eventually, Oliver’s task became even more difficult. To clean all of Michelle’s gigantic foot, he had to climb it. He gripped on to the wrinkly flesh of the soles and pulled himself upwards with all his might, having little support below him except for the tiniest indentations he made into Michelle’s skin. They required the most vicious kicks, gave him very little to support himself on, and were making Michelle giggle and have reflexes. It wasn’t unlike the mountain climbing he had done in his use, if you replaced the rock with soft, moist flesh and a tendency to move without warning. His poor tiny fingers could barely take it. They felt like the ligaments inside them would break down and bones would detach. He battled on, climbing higher and higher, past the arch and to where the foot seemingly became more and more disgusting. Every time he gripped the skin, sweat oozed out of the pores of the giant woman’s skin as if he was wringing a towel dry. It only forced him to engage more strength that he didn’t believe he had.

More than two hours passed. Oliver was coated in Michelle’s vile foot sweat and pieces of dirt that she’d collected walking around the apartment. He had scaled Michelle’s foot like it was a building and he a puny Spider-Man. Although he didn’t believe it possible, Oliver gained some relief when he reached the top of the foot. He climbed between Michelle’s big and index toes and was finally able to drop his body weight onto his feet and lean against the big toe like it was a wall. Conveniently, Michelle was currently distracted and had moved on from Amazon and was now on Funko’s website and buying an excessive amount of memorabilia.

“Neato!” Michelle exclaimed, “I’ve wanted the Kyoka Jiro figure for so long!” She started entering Oliver’s financial details again. The shrunken man didn’t want to know how much of his fortune his tormentor had already burned through. He turned to look in the other direction. Looking over Michelle’s room was like staring into the Grand Canyon. If it wasn’t for the fact he was still more anxious than he’d ever been in his life, it might have been a very spiritual experience that put him in awe at how small he was in comparison to all of the cosmos.

*THUD*

Michelle lifted her foot an inch and slammed it on the table. The boom left a ringing in Oliver’s ears, and the sudden shift caused him to slip over. The only thing stopping him from falling down the length of the foot was one hand holding for dear life to the dry, flaky skin between Michelle’s toes.

“Did I say you could take a break!?” Michelle yelled; the words barely audible to Oliver over the immense volume of her voice.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Michelle! I’m getting back to work now!” Oliver appealed desperately. He had to make sure not to get distracted by anything again if he wanted to make it through this, even if it was to care for his own fatigue.

“Two things,” Michelle said. “One; you’ll address me as ‘Goddess’ from now on. You are not my equal. You are my fucking slave. And you will acknowledge your inferiority and always remind yourself that you are PROPERTY. Nothing more. Two; I want you to eat the gunk in between my toes… and look like you’re loving it! Oh, yes, I want your expression to look like you’re eating a perfectly cooked steak!”

Oliver looked down at said gunk. The toe jam accumulated between Michelle’s index and big toes was a blueish-green chunk of dried sweat, dead skin and an assortment of other materials concentrated into a single pile of grossness. Apprehensively, Oliver touched it with his hand, the texture similar to licorice. Soft on the surface, but firm as he pressed down. As if foot sweat from Michelle’s soles wasn’t enough, he especially didn’t want this anywhere near his mouth.

“Do it now” Michelle said sternly. “Or you might just find yourself mashed up into it.”

What choice did he have. Tears were rolling down Oliver’s face as the pungent odors never ceased violating his nose and irritating his eyes as though surrounded by hundreds of chopped onions. It was do or die.

*CHOMP*

It was even worse than he could have imagined. The texture of the toe jam was pillow-soft for the most part, and somewhat crunchy at times. Every time he chewed, disgusting liquids seeped out of it and filled his mouth. He didn’t think so much moisture could be trapped inside that solid block, but his experience was proof of how deceptive looks were. The taste was even worse. It was like rotten cheese combined with decaying meat and rubber. Oliver’s tears approached new levels as he fought against his body’s urging him to spit it out and throw up what he had already swallowed. He looked over at Michelle, who had a big grin on her face.

“Smile! I wanna see how much you love your meal!”

Oliver hated giving her such pleasure, but there was no way out of it. As every part of his brain screamed at him to get this disgusting substance out of his mouth, flip the bird, and curse Michelle’s name to hell, he forced it to do the opposite. He grinned at her. A new definition of ‘shit-eating grin.’

“Awwww!” Michelle exclaimed, “I’m such a good owner aren’t I! Lucky for you, after you finish up all the gunk on this toe, you got a whole other to start working on!”

Oliver’s heart stopped for a moment at that realization. He wasn’t even finished on the first foot yet! This truly was more than enough already, but with what will he had he forced his way through the wet, spongy mounds of toe jam in front of him.

Another few hours had passed, and by the time Oliver had finished the Michelle’s other foot he had burned up all his reserved energy and felt as though he’d pulled several muscles forcing his body to navigate them. What was worse was the fact that he was hungry and dying for a drink. There was no nourishment in anything he consumed. He didn’t even have the energy to lift his arm and drag his hand across his tongue to remove what muck was still inside his mouth. All he did was lay there, panting, feeling hopeless.

Michelle went to inspect her feet; a disappointed look came to her face.

“This is the best you can do?! Fuck, slave, when I command you to do a job, I want it done well, understand?! God, you’re so fucking stupid.”

In his head, Oliver was thinking about saying “Sorry Goddess,” but his body didn’t even have the energy to whisper it.

Angry at him, Michelle picked up a dirty sock from the floor. Not even she knew how long it had been there or how many days she wore it for prior. The only thing she knew was what she wanted to do with it. She picked Oliver up, stuffed him inside of it, tied it into a knot to prevent his escape, and stuffed it deep into her dirty Vans.

“Now you think about what you did! I don’t wanna see you until you’ve learned your lesson.

Hungry, thirsty, tired, in pain, and surrounded by more pungent stink; thinking was the only thing he could do, and in so many ways was his only refuge. For how long he’d have to battle against this violation of his senses to maintain his sanity, Oliver did not know. What was for certain was that the worst was yet to come.