“Let us out!” Diego screamed as he banged away from the interior of the worn-out tennis shoe, slowly coating his knuckles with a thin layer of black fuzz and soaked foot sweat. He couldn’t hold his breath long enough to escape the lingering smell of Marisa’s soles after days upon days of volleyball practice. He couldn’t cool himself from the elevating humidity generated from both the shoe and sock. And through all this, Stool simply stood with his back against the shoe’s lining, arms crossed and watching Diego panic.

“How about some help?” Diego asked bitterly.

“How? Things were going fine until you pissed her off.” Stool’s knees gradually gave up and he sunk down to sit.

“I was trying to get answers.”

“And now we’re in her dank gym shoe with shitty air. Job well done.”

Diego ignored Stool’s mockery and continued resisting for five more minutes until his arms started to wary. With a final cry, he slammed his arms in despair, sliding down into his own sitting position, facing the bunched-up sock that blocked their freedom.

He hated being small. He hated what was happening to him. He despised the idea that he could no longer control the situation. Being the tallest out of his mom and step-dad and many of his friends made him feel power. He wasn’t built like the jocks, but the tallness gave some sense of authority. People literally looked up to him. People could never miss or forget about him because he was always above their heads. To Diego, being tall eliminated the idea of weakness. Being tall equaled intimidating.

But now everything he valued about himself was taken. He had to put unnecessary amounts of effort just to be noticed. He was insignificant enough to be plucked and handled by a chubby Latina the size of a titan. Weak and fragile to the point where he couldn’t even put up a decent fight, and allowed himself to be exiled in a shoe until further instructions. The appearance of authority: gone. His intimidation: non-existent. Nothing left but his gag-gifted boxer shorts.

And his sudden bursts of smart ideas.

“I’m climbing the sock.” Diego announced. He rose from his butt and stared deeply at the wall of deflated cotton. Pure white from the opening and below, until reaching the toe area where it started to look discoloring with dark toe imprints.

“What?” Stool questioned, looking a bit puzzled.

“The sock. I could try climbing out of here, search for help.”

“You realize that it would only get worse for us if she sees you, right?” Stool stated in a concerning tone. “Let’s just wait, dude. Find a better chance later.”

“Nah. I’m done waiting around. You want to be her little pet? Be my guest.” Diego walked over to Stool, patting his shoulder. “Good luck, Stool. It wasn’t that much of a pleasure knowing you.”

Diego ran towards the sock, crinkling his nose by the overwhelming musty scent that reeked more than the shoe. He eyed it from all angles, thinking about where to start, and suppressing the temptations to quit. The thought of having to place his entire body on something so grimy was nauseating, but that sock was his ticket to freedom. The best he could do was try.

Diego grabbed hold of the sock’s fuzzy toe section, feeling like his hands clenched on a damp towel that hasn’t been wrung in days, squeezing a good amount of sweaty liquid over his arms. He made the first leap on its top, but quickly sank it down to level with the insole. He pushed on through the first couple of tries before reaching hopeful heights as the air started to smell slightly cleaner, and the sock started to become supported with its own bundled weight.

I’m doing it, Diego thought. I’m doing it.

He was making his way towards the mouth of the shoe, thinking just now about what he would do after seeing the light again. Should he hang around the room until Marisa left and look for clues about their strange shrinkage? Was it wise to search for someone else for help?

Would he come back for Stool?

His train of thought was interrupted as the sock started shifting. Two of Marisa’s gigantic fingers entered the shoe and pinched the edge of her sock. Diego held on for dear life as the bedroom lights poured all around him. Diego appreciated the last-minute assistance, but he didn’t want Marisa to find him hanging. He waited until he was at a reasonable height to jump towards the side of the shoe. A couple inches higher would’ve saved him, but fate guided him to smash his nose into the rim of the shoe and land on his back at the center of the insole’s heel, getting a perfect view of a towering Marisa.

She seemed more refresh and clean after their first encounter. She was now wearing her small, black rectangular glasses, and ditched her sweatpants/oversized t-shirt pajama combo for a dandelion-colored polo shirt with a black skirt, which offered Diego a wide shot of her silky white panties from down below.

He couldn’t help but feel even more useless. Marisa stood her normal everyday height, yet projected that same fearful tingle when looking up the side of a New York skyscraper. She may have carried the image of innocence and kindness, but that couldn’t gloss over the newfound dominance and fear she instilled in him now. The way she could continue her morning routine while he laid motionless in her shoe. In her smelly, sweat-soaking shoe that she had no hesitation dumping him in. A position that he had no choice but to accept with humiliation and defeat.

Diego watched as Marisa bended her thick, juicy thighs, magnifying her godly hand closer and closer until they wrapped around the shoe, lifting it up to her squirrely, round face. She loomed closer to the opening, gasping by the surprise of him staring blankly at her.

“Diego?” Marisa boomed. “What are you doing? Were…were you lying under my sock this whole time?”

Diego didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Not without a reasonable excuse that wouldn’t get him in trouble. Also because of her immeasurable size and powerful voice that ran his body through cold sweats.

“Um, ok…Anyways, we’re going to school now. I need you and Stool to stay close to the toe of the shoe. Try to hold on tight because I’m new to this, and don’t really know how fast it’ll feel for you guys down there.”

“What?” Diego spoke.

“Sorry.” Marisa tipped the shoe towards Diego’s left, just enough that his body would roll into the dark space once again. The deeper he went, the moister the insole got, coating his chest with weeks of dirt and abandoned fuzz. He saw Stool running with the incline towards the toe section. Diego’s shoulder slammed the end of the tip, stopped his body face-down, with his nose resting upon the huge, dirty imprint of her ring toe.

 One strong inhale of the imprint rose him back to his feet in utter disgust.

“How was freedom?” Stool asked.

“Shut up.”

Their prison became utter darkness again as Marisa shuffled her socked foot into the shoe. They laid their skinny, naked backs against the shoe’s tip as her plump toes wormed themselves deeper and deeper, resting just a couple inches away from their faces. Diego kept his chin high, chest sucked in, toes curled. Anything to keep away from the ferocity of her wiggling piggies.

“How are we going to get out of this?” Diego said, sounding defeated.

“This is the best we can do. And she didn’t sound like she wanted to make it painful either.”

“Oh, right. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

The two bug-sized teens prepared as the entirety of the shoe lifted from the ground with incredible speed. Their balls jumped from the shift in gravity; feeling weightless for a mere second before the first slamming step introduced a wild tremor to their world. Diego lost his grip and fell right on her massive third toe.

He thought he was about to enter hell’s gate, but to his own surprise, felt Marisa sensed his touch and immediately flicked him back towards Stool. They both stared in confusion.

“Do you believe it now?” Stool said.

Diego reclaimed his grip and closed his eyes.

“The sooner this is over, the better.”

*  *  *  *  *

The shoe ride became less threatening once Diego learned how to better manage his grip while Marisa walked around her house, accompanied by two other disfigured voices. There was a long period of stillness as Marisa got into a car, presumably her mom’s, and was driven for fifteen minutes. When she started walking again, Diego and Stool could hear the muffle stomps of massive footsteps, heels clapping the tile schoolgrounds, and the never-ending sound of hallway gossip. Diego couldn’t imagine walking around in this size without the constant fears of being smeared under a sneaker, or swept into the janitor’s dustpan and tossed like yesterday’s trash.

The school bell rang over everyone’s head, indicating first period. There was a lot of noise made from those rushing to class, and Marisa wasn’t an exception. She dashed from the heel of her shoe, forcing acceleration upon her miniature shoe pals. It caught Stool off guard and sucked him right under the ball of Marisa’s foot. Diego tried reaching out for him, but pulled backed once seeing Stool’s body mashed under tons of flesh and cotton. He couldn’t look away from the repeated process of Stool being consumed and plastered under her big, monstrous foot like he was nothing. The way his body flopped between insole and sock, crushing his arms and legs with each powerful stomp made a terrible impression.

They couldn’t fight this.

Eventually, the punishment stopped as Marisa reached her classroom. She made slow walks to her desk, screeching the chair as she took her seat. Diego slowly inched towards her toes, hoping to rescue Stool from his bouncy hell. Hoping that he was still alive.

“Stool?” Diego said. “You okay?”

A hand pushed out from under her sock, and Marisa’s foot lifted her toes to let the scrawny boy be seen. Stool came standing with just a few scratches and bruises, but nothing that pointed to broken bones or a snapped neck like Diego envisioned.

“I’m okay. Strangely enough, I’m good.”

“Damn. That was seriously painful to watch. How much did it hurt? Scale from one to ten.”

Stool pondered on the question. He examined his own body, and looked back at the toes, squirming for comfort. Hungry for companionship.  

“This might sound a bit crazy,” Stool began, “but when I was under there, it didn’t feel like hell. It felt more like…like a massage.”

“A massage?” Diego blurted. He couldn’t believe what stupidity he was hearing. “Are you high?”

“I wish.” Stool snorted. “That way, it would’ve probably felt much nicer.”

“I think you took a few too many stomps to the head.”

“I’m not bullshitting you. It was like the ultimate muscle relaxer. Plus, while I was in there, I came up with an idea that might work to our advantage.”

“Advantage?”

“Listen,” Stool wrapped his arm around Diego, slightly greasing his neck with the dirt and fuzzy fiber strands collected from Marisa’s sock. “We know that she’s not that dangerous. Lucky enough that you two know each other.”

“What? We don’t know each other.”

“Really? She seems like she knows you.”

“Well, I mean, sometimes I watch the volleyball team practice from time to time. Not her specifically, but she’s around, you know?”

Stool simply shrugged. “Ok. Whatever. Point is, we might have the chance of winning her over with kindness. Giving her the impression that we’re willing to accept this lifestyle and do whatever she says with some unspoken favors.”

“What kind of favors?” Diego asked sternly. Stool pointed towards Marisa’s dirty, sock-covered toes, tapping restlessly to their own rhythm and beat while being subjected to what sounded like a boring history lecture. It didn’t take long until the message clicked, and Diego let his face scrunch in repulsion. “Aw, dude. Not a chance.”

“This could work! We let her play around with us under her toes, get a couple hours of full-body massages, and let her feel like she’s winning our love and affection and all that crap. Everyone wins.”

“No!” Diego shouted. “This is crazy! I’m not doing it!”

“Come on, Diego.” Stool pleaded. “We can’t expect to know that everything is going to be okay. At least for now, we need to secure this bond with her. And if I could be totally honest, we also need to be on the same page. If we’re going to get out of this, we need to start working together. Okay? No more insults. No more mocking. No more snapping at each other necks.”

“Oh, working together? Like when you didn’t bother joining me on my sock-climbing idea?”

“You’re right.” Stool admitted. “That might have actually been a good plan. And could’ve been better with the both of us. But if you back me up on this one, I swear I’ll follow whatever crazy plan you got next time. No complaints. Deal?”

Stool extended his arm for a sealing handshake. Diego considered the offer with little hesitation. He had a point about working together. Two bodies were better pleasing a giantess than one. And the offer for a guaranteed partner opened greater chances of survival. If it came to that point.

“Deal.” They shook hands.

Diego was going to ask who goes first, but it seemed implied. Stool backed away as Diego walked closer to Marisa’s tapping toes. They still struck him as ferocious, but he fought those thoughts away once he placed his palms against them. Marisa rejected his touch again, but he refused the denial, trying to tame her toes. Marisa kept on fighting his advances, and this went back and forth until he knocked on her second toe with a Morse-code rhythm.

Her foot somehow understood and stopped moving, waiting patiently as Diego mustered all his strength to lift her heavy toe and cozied himself under the radiating warmth of her sole. Her foot stench was incredibly musky, and his lowly position lacked a decent amount of breathing space, but he reminded himself that they needed her happy. They needed her to see that they were willing to cooperate.

Diego brought out his hands and rubbed the underside of her sock, pushing through to feel the rubber toe pad reacting to his touch. Marisa’s toes made a quick flinch, but remained motionless for a full minute; probably wondering what her tinies were doing in her shoe. Diego continued massaging her second toe, thinking that this would be good enough for a start. And soon enough, Marisa got on board by dropping her foot’s full weight on his greasy face.

His mind screamed preemptively, but his body stayed firm. The pressure didn’t feel at all painful. His nostrils took a huge whiff off her clothed foot, making him want to gag. But he continued rubbing that bulbous toe with deeper finger movements and squeezes. He started shifting his body left and right, trying to cover more ground and rub the rest of her meaty digits, until Marisa decided to take matters into her own hands.

She stopped Diego’s feeble attempt as massaging and instead clutched his body from the ground, squeezing him within the crevice of her toes. She smashed his face deeper into the wrinkles of her sock, getting him so close and personal with her spanish musk that he could almost taste it; allowing the pheromones to invade all his airways. She released her grip, dropping him back down, and immediately picked him up again. Another squeeze, another drop.

Diego still didn’t feel abused. Stool was right. In a way, he felt his body being pushed around by massive, sweaty pillows. At times, she would roll his rejuvenating body under the ball of her foot, and even try to squeeze his tiny head through each cottony space between her toes. Yet it didn’t faze him. He accepted the role of being her personal foot toy if it meant he would continue to receive such relaxation that couldn’t be found in any massage parlor.  

Lost in his own world, the bell rang and Marisa’s toes released their grip on Diego, pushing his used body back against the tip. Diego felt a little dizzy, and had Stool help him back on his feet.

“So…?” Stool said with a cheesy grin stretched out. “How was it?”

Diego waited a second to catch his breath before answering. “Humid…God, awful smell…But soooo damn relaxing.”

“What did I tell you?” Stool slapped Diego’s back in a congratulatory fashion. “And the best part is: we got the whole day to woo her.”

For the next two periods, Stool and Diego took turns volunteering as Marisa’s playthings while she made it through her classes. Stool had a much better experience since he wasn’t being plastered into her insole accidently. He took on the initiative role by traveling past her toes, and giving her sole and heel a glorious treatment. He spent his hour being rolled from one end of the shoe to the other. Diego couldn’t do that. He still wasn’t feeling that ambitious to try something that could possibly lead to fatality. During his second run, he continued rubbing her toes and being her little squeeze stick. Nothing too risky. He played it safe since he thought massaging her toes would be enough satisfaction. At least on the first day.

But by fourth period, the two teens took precaution once hearing the echoing sound of sneakers squeaking on the gym floor. She was in P.E. now, and that fact was made clear once Marisa pulled out her foot, allowing the thundering sounds of slamming lockers and giggling entered their dirty shoe cavern. She shut out the noise by reinserting her foot, shoving it even further to push Diego and Stool far from the action.

They were grateful for the warning because in the next hour, they were dealing with a whole different Marisa. One that was filled with fierce determination for her fitness. The foot they’ve been pleasing for the last three hour suddenly became an aggressive demon. When it sprinted, it hopped off the heel with such intensity, and landed like a 9.0 earthquake. The humidity became unbearable, and the foot stench they’ve gotten use to reached foul levels of toxicity that could easily knock out the weak-minded. And they had front row seats of the emerging foot sweat. They watched the transformation her damp sock took as it slowly absorbed her excessive perspiration, and came to the point where each step made a gross sloshing sound.

Diego and Stool took it all in, and by the sound of a blown whistle, exhausted their breaths with pure relief. Marisa jogged herself back to the lockers, splashing a puddle of foot sweat over her scarred foot toys. They waited for her to take her sticky, wet sock out to change, but nothing happened. Nothing happened until the sounds of girls diminished. It remained silent until a group of sneakers were nearby. Finally, she easily slipped her foot out, and tipped the shoe just enough for them to slide through her swampy insole, hitting the edge of the heel section, and tossing them into the light.