The staunchly serious Ms. Perkins observed the other, younger woman across the desk from her, then shook her head and laughed gracefully. Her fingers trembled around Brent’s legs with mirth, and he sincerely hoped a laugh wouldn’t be the cause of his death. Though he didn’t have to see the owner of that last joke, he knew precisely who was speaking to his boss.
But at least this madness was over now. She said noon, after all.
“Well, I daresay it was effective. So thank you for the suggestion. I admit, you’ve contributed far more to creative thinking and productivity around here than the average intern. Or even many of the… regular employees,” Ms. Perkins said, meaningfully eying Brent for an example. She turned her inch-high nude man around in her fingertips, observing him and furrowing her brow. “He appears largely undamaged, at least physically. Mentally and emotionally, however, who could say. Though sexually, he’s surely come out the other side with a different perspective on his fetishistic predilections.”
The twenty-two-year-old intern across from Ms. Perkins giggled, cupping a hand over her lips, before idly twirling a finger through her fiery-red locks which reached down to her shoulders. As Brent spun around, the gigantic young woman’s green eyes caught his and flashed him a grin of absolute victory. It made the man’s stomach spin worse than his current physical position.
“As I promised, then,” Ms. Perkins said. She arched her hand across the desk and toward, Brent realized, Larissa’s creamy, upturned palm: waiting for him. “I’m off to a lunch meeting. I’ll be back in an hour. Until then, perhaps you can impart some of your newer energy and work ethic upon Mr. Tucker here.”
“No problem, Ms. Perkins!” Larissa said brightly. Greedily, she accepted the tiny naked Brent into her palm and quickly closed her lithe fingers over him, sealing him in her fist.
Five minutes passed as Larissa coolly strode back to the elevator and returned to the floor where the other drones and interns worked. Her sensible flats clacked quietly on the tile with every step.
Meanwhile, Brent was left in a fresh panic within the confines of the young intern’s closed hand. Didn’t Ms. Perkins say noon was when he was free? Didn’t she? Or perhaps she’d only said he would be released: as in, come out briefly, only to go back in the dark again. He minced, kicking himself for having hope.
Why did he have to stare at Larissa so much? Why couldn’t he just be like everyone else and slip an occasional peek at the hot, supple intern? Was it so unavoidable that he had to gawk like an idiot whenever she pried those adorable blue flats away from her pale, shapely feet and let her toes dance on the carpet? Evidently, yes.
When Larissa’s giant hand opened once again, Brent only had a flash of her still-smirking face above before he tumbled off the ends of her soft fingers and plunked hard against the velvety floor of what he realized was her insole even before he’d lifted his head to look around in simultaneous dismay and arousal.
“Well, well, well… would it be corny to do a “the shoe is on the other foot” joke?” Larissa snickered as she loomed above and drank in the sight of her technical superior imprisoned in her blue flat. “Actually, maybe a better one would be: walk a mile in my shoes. Yeah, let’s go with that.”
“Larissa…” Brent called out. “I’m… sorry if I gave you the impression I was… thinking, or doing something inappropriate, but I promise you, this is all just a colossal misunderstanding, and I-”
“Mmmm, I don’t think so, shrimp. But nice try,” Larissa interrupted loudly with another burst of laughter. Her finger still swirled through her ginger tresses. For the second time today, Brent’s attempt at logical explanation was cut off. “Really, I think you just ought to take this whole thing as a lesson. You might think girls just catch creeps like you were when you’re checking out our tits or asses, but it’s not true. We know about people like you, who want the weird stuff. Well, I hope you’re ready for it, cuz you’re gonna get it. Asshole.”
Defeated, Brent watched overhead. The meteoric mass of Larissa’s petite bare foot rose up, the office lights glinting off the wrinkles of her white sole and the baby-blue nail polish on her toes. Then it descended all at once. With considerable less practice and gentility than Ms. Perkins’ still-rough landing, Larissa’s lithe size-six foot bulldozed Brent’s inch-tall body deeper into the flat.
The shoe was much shallower than the CEO’s cave-like slingback. Brent slammed into the thankfully cushioned toe-tip of the blue flat he’d spent so many lazy afternoons in the office watching be removed then reapplied over and over to the youthful intern’s lovely foot. He just never dreamed that he’d get such a close look. Nor that he’d ever find the truck-sized length of Larissa’s vengeful foot squeezing inside the shoe at the same time and pinning his body to the wall.
Though Larissa’s foot was noticeably smaller than Ms. Perkins’, when he stood at half the size of a human thumb, the hapless office worker couldn’t much appreciate the difference. Especially with how obviously eager Larissa was to get him between her toes. Brent squirmed out of habit for just an instant, but was easily pushed into submission by the girl’s grasping digits and wedged amidst her big and second toes.
Brent lurched forward, forced onto his knees. Effectively, he was made to kneel with his head bowed, while Larissa happily clenched his upper torso and head in the fleshy vice of her pale, plucky toes. The harder she squeezed, the lower his head was dipped, until Brent’s face was pressed flush against the doughy block of Larissa’s toe crevice. Even craning his neck away wasn’t enough to combat the muscular tug of the girl’s twin digits colliding ever-tighter around him.