They were loaded onto a cart, and shipped like cargo up the stairs, and into a bedroom twice the length of her school. In the center was a wood frame bed fit for royalty, draped in hand-sewn embroidered silk curtains and bed sheets. On either side was a mountain of stuffed animals next to a symmetrical pair of dressers with a gigantic dollhouse near a stained glass window. It was a picture of luxury, and she was now part of it; just one of the many possessions left to rot while their owner plays house with her guests.

               Lucia wished she could just wither up and die, but fate had other plans.

               Suddenly, a whip cracked against the metal bars. It was Eveline, the stern maid, who with one finger undid the locks on the cage doors; releasing them.

               At first nobody knew what to do, in front of them stood a monolith of a woman, about half the size of Siesta, wielding what could only be described as a mix between a riding crop and a flyswatter. The implications were frightening, “Ms. Mobile will be arriving shortly, and I am tasked with disciplining you,” She said waltzing back and forth, “And although I take no pleasure in doing so, any attempts at resistance will be met with lethal repercussions.”

               The blood-stained stick made it clear enough, to the point that even the least educated dimwitted hood-rat amongst them could understand, “Your first challenge is simple, hide and seek.” Said Eveline with sly grin, “The game will proceed for ten minutes, and begins the moment Siesta walks into this room” the entire crowd turned towards the door on the other side of the room, “Hide successfully and survive. Fail and you will die…”

               Before Eveline finished her speech half the cage had already hurdled themselves onto the floor and began to scatter in a fury of desperation; Men, woman, boys, and girls alike clawing and trampling each other like cornered animals. Husbands abandoned their wives, the weak were shoved into the ground; even the teachers, bound by duty, were just as cruel as the students. Lucia was no exception; having already grown up in a tough neighborhood, she was far too proud to accept death.

               Her mind flew into a frenzy as she ran, or rather stumbled, over the mass of students and across the carpeted floor; whipping her eyes across the endless expanse in an attempt to locate the best possible hiding spot. It was no use; each possible spot was just as predictable as the last. That’s when she realized that in order to win; she needed to think like her foe. So she asked herself one simple question. Where is the last place anyone would look?

               Down.

               It was an insane plan based on a hunch, something so stupid and suicidal that it couldn’t possibly work, and that was exactly what she hoped Siesta would think. And so she ran, across what seemed like miles of carpet, up to the towering wooden door; and not a moment too soon, she could already hear the pitter-patter of footsteps in the distance.

               She wasn’t alone. At least four other people joined her in the suicide march, forming a small separate brigade further back from the door which suddenly burst open; a gigantic heel landing inches from Lucia, sending her sprawling to the floor.

               In front of her was a wall of leather and muscle, suspended atop a long curved platform, balanced on a thick plastic shank thicker than her torso. Her heart raced out of control, sweat dripping down her face, arms shaking, lips quivering. If Siesta had stepped even slightly more to the left, her entire body would have been gone.

               She was now face to face with the side of the heel, so close that she could lean forward and kiss it. The curving slightly dirty shoe creaked and groaned as thousands of tons of girl barreled down into it;  dry plump skin around her arch stretching smooth, turning lighter in colour around the edges where flesh met leather.  

               Lucia took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down, but it was no use; the sheer enormity of her captor was awe-inspiring. Especially those tone slender legs, like gigantic pale columns attached to an even larger skirt-clad monument; they were so tall Lucia needed to crane her neck and squint just to make out the tops of her thighs which ended where a pair of tight fitting black panties began.

               Siesta was overwhelming, but even more so was the realization that her plan had worked. Lucia was right between her legs, just one misstep from a gruesome death, and yet she went entirely unnoticed.

               After all, the last place you’d look for an insect is right under your feet.

               “Ugh. Your no fun.” pouted Siesta, rolling her eyes at the group gathered by the door, “Where’s the suspense, hmmm? Entertain me!”  

               They pleaded for mercy, getting on hand and knee, but it was no use; judging by the cheerful smile on their giant captors face it was obvious no amount of begging would change her mind.  Siesta took a step forward, then swung her other leg high into the sky; a gigantic snow white high heel swinging forward like a pendulum; her tone thighs tightened like the strings of a bow as she positioned herself above the first victim, a member of the faculty.

               “Gotta admit, I’m a bit disappointed… I was expecting more of a challenge. Oh well, I guess breaking you is fun in its own sort of way.”

               In his defense the man made a stellar case, unfortunately the only thing listening at that point was a clean brownish-tan rubber outsole which moments later slammed into him with the force of a train. Lucia almost vomited, his body was pushed to the floor then pounded flat in a matter of milliseconds; a pool of blood dribbling out in front of the long curved edge of her shoe where a massive rubber platform, crowned by two toes, each one lovingly adorned in a dry layer of dark blue nail polish, idly rested atop his broken body.

               In life the man was a teacher, an important figure with a wife and a family, but to Siesta, he was just a target; little more than a squawking little blip the size of bug. Of course, being so wealthy and large, that’s how she probably saw everyone poorer than her. Especially since they all end up the same; indistinguishable shoe ornaments, in the form of blackened red stains, stuck against the rubber treads of her shoes.

               “Tsk, Boring. C’mon people scram, at least give me a moving target!”

               The remainders scattered away; having changed their minds after seeing just how cruel Siesta could be, “Yes! Now we’re getting somewhere,” she cheered, raising her other foot.

               Escape was impossible; in a single step she covered more distance than the best sprinters in her class. All Lucia could do was watch with awe as she took a step forward into the first man, landing her foot on him like a plane, and knocking him to the floor. A moment later he was gone, smeared into a little red line along the carpet with a wet sounding crack.

               The other two fled in completely different directions, one of them foolishly attempting to confuse her by zig-zagging across the carpet. It didn’t work, she simply swung her leg around, and pounded him with the shaft of her heel; crushing his torso like a walnut.

               The final man, a heavy-set guy with long hair, she caught beneath the very tip of her shoe. But rather than kill him immediately, Siesta chose to stare down at him with a patient smile, giving him time to panic and catch his breath.

               “Wow, your friends SUCKED at hiding,” Mocked Siesta, “And here I was thinking that you impoverished boys would offer a challenge.”

               “Like, why bother killing you, there’s no sport in it, Ya’know! Hmm, but mother did pay for you… decisions, decisions.”

                 Her toes scrunched together with anticipation, the plushy bottoms of each massive digit turning white from the pressure. She licked her lips and smiled, “I’ll tell you what, I’m going to give you a choice.” his face lit up, “I could… have a little fun and crush your limbs one by one,” only to warp into an expression of pure terror, “Or… You can put you head right here, and I’ll end it sweetly.” She said stretching her toes apart, exposing a small worn section of her insole just large enough for him to cram into.

               Siesta’s foot was a behemoth of shoe, skin, and nail; even the smallest of her toes dwarfed his pathetic body. The sides of her shoe bulged outward, strips of leather thicker than his forearms bending as they struggled to contain a plump gently curved mass of grooved skin and tight rigid muscle; which shined with a deceptively beautiful glitter, until one realizes that’s just sweat and bits of lint clinging to her radiant peach coloured skin.

               The man shook like an abandoned animal in the cold; he could barely hold himself together. She was so cruel, and didn’t even realize it; for her this probably seemed like an act of mercy.

               “I only offer this as a courtesy. You served your purpose, so I’ll try and make it as painless as possible.”

               Like the teacher he tried to beg, bargain, and appeal. But once again, Siesta was having none of it. It got to the point where he was offering body parts, trying to negotiate his way from death, down to horrible disfigurement. It was pathetic; Lucia had no sympathy for him, and neither did Siesta, who looked like someone had finished telling her a bad joke.

               “Did you know that it takes around half a second to take a single step?”

               He screamed and cried, trying to crawl away, only for her to press down and break his ankle.

               “My family makes around three hundred a second, and of that I inherit at least eighty.”

               Exhaustion kicked in, and the gravity of the situation was finally beginning to dawn; he was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it. This girl, who wouldn’t look out of place in a boarding school, or some Victorian era novel, was about to claim his life…

               “Which means each step I take is worth around forty dollars.”

               She pressed down harder, and twisted her foot; his arms flailing madly as a muffled wet pop echoed across the room, “In your case. Per individual, we paid about twenty-five dollars.”

               “So, even if I wanted to save you, even if this was all an accident. Why bother, you’re literally not worth my time.”

               … Not just out of contempt or her perverted need to emphasize her own superiority; but because everything he was, or ever would be, was worth less than the effort it would take for her to simply lift her foot off his crushed body. When you look at it like that, could anybody really blame Siesta?

               At this point the man was broken, and mumbling madly; trying to convince himself this was all a lie. But in the end, he found resolve, and with teary eyes wider and sadder than any she’d ever seen in her life he limped up to those towering legs of hers, crawled into the peep-toe, and placed his head and torso on the worn caramel coloured insole.

                “Now the look on your face… that’s Priceless!”

               With those terrible words she brought the full weight of her big toe down like a sledgehammer, pinning him beneath a coarse rubbery slate of soft plump skin before scrunching the rest of her toes; each one curved around his body, cramming him between her hard brawny sole and the darkened scratched wooden insole. Then in a second it was over, the weight of her body was distributed to every inch of his; cutting off all breathing before flattening his skull.