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“Just remember to breathe regularly, Mr. Tucker. I assure you, a healthy equilibrium and normal intake of oxygen are your friends now,” Ms. Perkins explained with a professional tone, as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. She still wasn’t looking at him, but fidgeting with the towering form of her right-side closed-toe, slingback black-leather heel.

            For just an instant, baser instinct took control. Brent stared with silent thirst up at the holy sight of Ms. Perkins’ French-tipped, sun-kissed foot emerging from the shoe, housed in the shimmering skin-tight length of her stocking. However, he was quickly snapped from his animalistic reverie at the sight of his boss’s giant hand, opened and casting a shadow over him as it neared.

            “Wait! Ms. Perkins, what’s… what’s going o-”

            “Believe me, this will become bearable the faster you get over the silly first-impression questions,” Ms. Perkins informed him curtly, with a hint of a sultry flair on the end of her syllables this time. With the UFO-mass of her enormous hand now bearing down on him for direct size comparison, Brent judged himself to be no larger than one inch in height.

            One measly inch.

            “N-No… please, don’t… don’t hurt me, I-”

            “Hurt you, Mr. Tucker?” Ms. Perkins asked, and a trace of a laugh escaped her lips. Her gigantic fingers curled provocatively within arm’s reach of him, her every digit nearly three times the length of his whole body. “What good would it do either of us, if you were simply disposed of, instead of what you’re here to do, which is receive the due consequences of your actions? Now come here.”

            Brent was helpless to resist as his naked body was collected between the warm, gridded pads of Ms. Perkins’ thumb and index finger. She didn’t have to pinch too tightly, yet in spite of his thrashing, her grip didn’t budge. His stomach churned as he was arced upside down through space for just an instant, before suddenly spying the dark, open mouth of the now-unoccupied slingback heel.

            “What are you doing?” he gawked fruitlessly as the woman’s enormous digits continued carrying him toward the wide hole. He squirmed like an upturned insect as Ms. Perkins lowered him directly into the slanted cavern of her shoe. Darkness and a stale, leather-tinged musk immediately overtook him as she at last released her employee on the well-worn sole.

            The CEO didn’t deign to answer this last question of Brent’s as she withdrew her fingers from the shoe and made adjustments far above, outside his view. This was all happening so fast, he could scarcely process it moment-to-moment. A giant “9” was emblazoned into the insole.

            Then Brent received perhaps the biggest curveball to his reality of all when he gazed up toward the light, only to see the glow blotted out by the massive, hulking volume of Ms. Perkins’ stocking-clad toes. This was a wet-nightmare, right? The man held his breath, horrified beyond belief, yet still haunted by a hint of subconscious lust at this sight he’d, admittedly, revisited in multiple dreams throughout his adolescence.

            Those meaty giant digits writhed, cloying against the taut fabric around them, as they fished down inside the dark and hit the slope. Try as he might to right himself upon the uneven hill of the heel sole, nothing could prepare Brent for the impact with Ms. Perkins’ toes. It was like being struck with five sand-logged punching bags at the same time, fronted as they were by delicate, feminine skin and the sleek padding of the nylon.

            A scream caught in the man’s throat as he tumbled backward and became instantly wedged beneath the ball of his giant boss’s foot. The plush weight of it rolled him from side to side for just an instant, like a pumice stone, driving him down against the grainy insole. It was all Brent could to do put up his hands and defend his head as the woman’s titanic sole inserted fully into its usual place, albeit with his tiny naked body sandwiched underneath. The strength of the musk in the limited air, earthy and repugnant, tripled.

            Muscles twitched in the underside of her high-arched foot. The expanse of her powerful, peachy ped was nearly beyond description; surely comparable to the floorplan of her office, relative to his one-inch height. The nylon fibers scratched his bare body. Brent was hopelessly lost underneath the sheer mass of her splayed sole, simultaneously brimming with marshmallowy flesh and flexed musculature behind the stocking net. He never imagined he could exist under something so heavy without bursting.

            “Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Tucker,” Ms. Perkins boomed. Though her voice had to penetrate the closed-toed shoe, as well as the hefty obelisk of her huge foot, she had a piercing enough voice that its commanding tone could probably reach just about anyone. “You will be released at noon, at which point I trust you’ll have had some enriching time to think about your future at this company, and whether you want to have one at all.”

            Chilled to the bone, despite the overwhelming heat beneath Ms. Perkins’ mammoth foot, Brent lay still as a corpse. For two minutes, or perhaps twenty, he couldn’t say, he remained motionless. It was as if Ms. Perkins had created a coffin for him out of her admittedly sexy-as-hell broad-soled, nylon-adorned foot and its accompanying slingback which hugged her shapely ankles just so.

            What was he to do? What possible reaction could he have now?

            Shouting for help seemed stupid and out of the question. The only person who could conceivably hear him was the person who was currently wearing his naked, shrunken self in her heel. That wasn’t a person he wanted to be pissing off more than he already had.

            Currently, he was flattened out, his limbs spread, as if performing an inverted snow-angel into Ms. Perkins’ sole. And in a way, he was. The weight of her wrinkled flesh was settling down hard enough over him, like baking dough, that it didn’t seem impossible his body could actually leave an imprint in the fabric of her nylon. After he’d been instantaneously shrunken and tossed inside his boss’s shoe as easily as checking the weather, nothing was outside the realm of impossible now, as far as he was concerned.

 

Chapter End Notes:

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