It's been 3 days since the graduation party. 

Hannah Biggins' college graduation party to be exact.

3 whole days since I somehow shrunk while just grabbing a few beers from Hannah's apartment. 

We can start with a transitional retelling of my shrinking and the last few days to get things up to speed...

Hannah Biggins had recently graduated and her parents had invited a few of her friends over for a gathering. They rented out her complexes rec room/kitchen hangout spot to celebrate her achievement.

The beers were starting to run dry thanks to her rich vagabond of a brother that rolls through town every so often. The tall, plush, blonde, and bubbly bombshell that was Hannah Biggins, had asked me to run up to her apartment on the 6th floor and bring down some more as she had stockpiled a few spares in her fridge. This of course is not a problem and I made my way up to her pad. Using the key she stashed for today under the entry mat, I let myself in. Returning the key to ensure I don’t pocket and forget it by accident. 

The door closes behind me and a couple steps into her place it was clear she didn't have a ton of time on her hands. Well, at least from a tidying perspective. 

Being a downtown place it was a nice, albeit smaller, 1 bed 1 bath spot with nicer black gloss amenities, but this niceness was overshadowed by the girly clutter strewn about. Just in this little dining area I started in there were miscellaneous school papers and bills mixed with fashionable sweaters and other loose articles of clothing from table to occasionally, the floor. 

The floor itself was a bit unkempt with a few dog toys and numerous shoes of various types scattered about. Some seemingly without a partner, likely hidden under some random double XL yoga pants nearby I’m sure. Maybe even stashed in the overflowing shoe rack that was meant for guests. 

Man this girl seems like a mess, but it's likely due to the graduation plus the moving she mentioned in a conversation earlier. There are a few collapsed boxes leaned against the far wall so I guess I won’t tease her too bad about the state of her place when I get back with the beers.

Ignoring the mess, I push on towards the kitchen, passing the small entry/dining area I initially walked into. Making sure not to bump into any chairs out from the table as I pass to not potentially jostle anything else onto the floor. I slip in through the short yet wider arched hallway that leads into the kitchen which flows out into a living room. 

The living room itself was also a bonafide minefield of half and full boxes of miscellaneous house accoutrement, clothes and tech. Even her large L shaped couch was covered, but it appears she left a spot clear on the chase lounge for the dog to sleep or her to pack.

The kitchen was at least cleaner than the rest of the place. Well, from what I could tell with a cursory glance anyways. Quickly scanning the room to my right and I see my goal.

I pass an about to be overfilled trash can on the end of a kitchen island to my left. This  island had a few, stray, half filled cups leading to the sink at the islands opposite end which was across from the fridge. The floors, unswept for a time with little bits here and there, but not sticky from what I could tell.

She's probably been busy with graduation and from the looks of the rest of the place, it was an accomplishment she kept this area as clear as she has.

At the fridge, I open and reach in to pull the first sixer when my left bicep starts to twitch and painfully contract, completely out of nowhere. The spasms caused me to jerk back and release the cans back on the shelf barely moved. I stumble back to the sink on the small island kitchen now behind me. Gravity pulls the fridge door closed and I instinctively reach for my phone to call some form of emergency services.

Pain, left arm, totally a heart attack right? 

I get my phone out and to my face, beginning my dial out to 9-1-1... I get hit with another arm cramp. My phone slips my grasp thanks to the pain and tumbles into a few of the glasses on the counter. Miscellaneous liquids slush over my cell and the touch screen goes staticy before shutting off. I leaned over the counter to grab it thinking I was about to get wracked with another one but no. 

As I am starting to think it was all just a freak charlie horse or something, I nab some paper towels and set my phone on a couple sheets near the left, non-sink side of the island.  I clean up the spill with a few more paper towels and move the cups to the sink.

Wham! And it hits me again, the same vicious spasm.

Again my brain goes for my phone thinking maybe somehow I can blow on it and it will magically get dry in a few seconds. I lean against the counter as support and reach out my right hand to pull the paper towels it sat on towards me.

Again, spasm, as my left arm smacks me in the face from the force of the muscle locking up. 

I opened my eyes again to see my phone was now... gone? 

 Oh shit, I must have pushed it over the edge!

Scrambling along the island to where my phone once lay, I look over the edge to see the trash can from earlier with a damp paper towel on top. My phone must be underneath so I lean over and lift the towel. No phone… It seems like the trash, being a bit loose, had allowed my phone to slip through to deeper and grosser depths.

Fuck it then, I head to the open bathroom door on the other side of the hallway opposite the trash. Maybe if I can find some form of aspirin that will help. I think it helps with heart stuff?

I stumble into the bathroom and see Hannah and I’s college logo strewn across my pullover hoodie residing below a pained man’s face that looks awfully familiar, me. I go to pull open the mirrored medicine cabinet and it hits again.

But not like before.

No, this was on a different level.

Blackout levels as a matter of fact since that's exactly what happened next.

When I came to I was inside a massive navy blue canvas that I found out later to be, my pullover sweater. My adrenaline spiked after I felt a series of massive approaching earthquakes stopping just in front of my canvas cavern. 

Hannah then nonchalantly picked up my sweater off her bathroom floor followed with a really loud, slow, and bassy remark about leaving her sweater on the floor as I tumbled out. 

I fell for what felt like forever, but I was only at about her waist when I dropped out. Somehow naked, shrunk, and scared shitless tumbling past two mighty denim columns ending in Hannah’s massive cream color based but lightly tanned toes that were just peeking out of the slightly belled bottoms of her designer jeans to show off their fairly recent, glistening purple polish.

As I continued to fall I realized that everything else just feels a little bit slower, I guess thanks to the adrenaline. It’s almost as if I’m perceiving things way faster than normal and from staring at my hand as I tried to manipulate it, it felt sluggish compared to how fast I wanted it to react. So essentially, I seem to perceive faster in extreme situations, but not necessarily move much faster which has caused me a headache or two since discovering this. 

As the ground finally approached I slammed into it with no real harm for some reason. Just a bruised psyche and a sore stomach from the belly flop like nature of the fall. Plus, from what's happened over the last 3 days, lets just say I’m pretty durable. 

As for my pants, boxers, and socks well, I watched Hannah toss them into an overflowing box marked “Lazy Bro’s Forgotten Clo’s” as her colossal form slowly thundered away going about her evening. I could hear the fridge open and close followed with her thundering footsteps leaving out the front door. 

Leaving me cold, naked, bewildered and left to survive in this pretty blonde and semi-rich college girls apartment.

Thank god her dog was out morning day 1, it was a poorly sighted Golden named Cola and her running was soooo loud. The quaking vibrations were a pain to deal with too as I attempted to traverse Hannah’s mess of a living space. Cola’s departure was a good fortune brought by the way of her parents swinging by and taking her until Hannah got settled into her new place next month.

Next day wasn’t so bad I guess either, I did learn a few things about my new stature. Having stumbled across a stray grain of what I think was brown rice, which is like ¼ inch or so I think, if my fuzzy memory from a grade school project is correct. 

Well, now that I say that I guess this was pretty bad finding out I could easily be misconstrued as a bug amidst all this mess or be completely unnoticed as day 2 will attest to. 

I did mention my durability and it's a fact discovered by a combination of an unfortunately timed stride and Hannah’s Old Toms flat. Together these delivered a very painful demonstration on an unwilling subject who then learned that he in no way wishes to have his new found durability tested any further.

Oh, I should also note I learned about my durability just mere moments after hearing Hannah on the phone with someone I couldn't hear. 

A one way conversation practically summing up my hopelessness with a single sentence, “I haven't seen or heard from him since he came up to grab beers which, were still here in the fridge, and I heard he hasn't responded to anyone's texts.” and then I was met with the warn underside of her right foots, dingy teal, size 12 wide Toms flats sole. Even with me perceiving her as moving in slo-mo I couldn’t get my tiny ass out of the way in time. Her foot was just too big and the step was too well placed.

Things were definitely fuzzy after she unknowingly smashed me into the ground for what felt like a few moments. I did hazeley see her lift out the trash bag in the distance after her foot left my battered form, which I know had my soaked smartphone in it. I tried to peel my tiny self off the tile floor and scramble closer to the baseboards of the small hallway when I saw Hannah making her way to the front door. I got to meet the right shoes twin, lefty, as she went to throw away what was likely the the only traceable evidence that I ever entered her apartment during her grad party. That was a pretty crushing experience in more than one way I’d say...

So that's pretty much the story so far and the way I see it, I am truly fucked unless I get Hannah’s attention because there is no way anyone who could eventually be looking for me would find a shred of evidence of me going anywhere from the party. Especially not running around in Hannah’s cluttered apartment at a quarter inch tall.

Now here I am, day 3 and all I hope there are, are some fresh crumbs on her kitchen floor because I am starving. I’m getting to the point that I will eat some of Cola’s dry food that was left in her bowl in the dining room if I have too. I crawl out of the cheapy red cotton mitten I was using as a makeshift shelter I found amongst some other junk under her glass dining table. Just as I reached the table leg closest to the short arched hallway that leads to the kitchen, maybe to a normal person just a few feet away, I feel Hannah, but I don't see Hannah… yet.

Her footsteps are heavy, especially to me at my current size. I know shes like 6’2” 175lb’s or at least that's what her license said when we were all showing off our horrid ID photos at the party. She did also say she lied about the weight so I am guessing she is closer to 185 if I were a betting man. All of the weight was so nicely distributed to all the curvaceous spots of her bodys beautifully voluptuous and plush design though, so 10lb’s really didn't matter.

After a few more far off thunderous booms getting stronger I see her massive bare feet enter through the archway, stopping at the overflowing shoe rack not far, from her perspective, from the table leg I cowered behind. With only seeing her black stretchy capris below the knees I was awestruck by her size with how far she felt away from me. 

Her house sized toes, showing slightly chipped purple polish highlighting it's been a few days since her last pedi, playfully lift and tussle about as I hear her shuffle through the shoe rack. A few sandals and a boot fall as she sifts about looking for something.

“Shit. Where the hell did I pack all my socks!? I can’t even find a mismatch for this old one!” Hannah says rather perturbed and aloud to herself as I watch a dark from use, pink sock with a dusty visible sole print smack into the ground in front of the rack.

She stops for a moment, shifting her weight to her left heel causing those toes to splay out just a teeny bit. Her right heel lifts a few inches and plants ahead of its last spot with the ball of her massive foot angled towards the ceiling. Hannah’s mighty toes scrunching away at the air, “Uuuugh, NO!... No Brain,” Hannah says to apparently her herself again as her creamy yet tan toes lift a moment before the pale ball descends with great ferocity, toes following suit, causing me to almost fall on my ass from the vibrations of just the front of her foot smacking into the floor, “this is not a good enough excuse to miss this class.” I hear above as a pair of what I can only describe as the oldest Nike’s this side of 2005 have ever seen clatter into view suddenly. Surprising me a bit more than I would like, thanks to the loud 1 - 2 - punch of the impacts actually knocking me on my ass this time.

They are grey, but that's only since they used to be white. The worn swoops on the sides beginning to fray away from the breathable greyed mesh. The laces, clearly the newest thing about these old beaters, were purple like her nail polish with their ends stuffed into the mouth of the shoe which had the over heels back padding worn down by a decent amount. Probably from all the times her big merciless feet have been in and out of them over who knows how many years.

My fear and anxiety rise with here being not even that close to me and my forced seated position. Triggering adrenaline and triggering my odd perceptive slow-mo thanks to my size, as her behemoth of a shapely left foot lullingly lifts and proceeds to wrestle both shoes upright before forcefully cramming its slightly worn polished purple toes into the mouth of the old greyed Nike. It strains trying to accomodate the mass of her flush foot, but it's clear that these have been around since at least late high school. A few faded and scuffed signatures can be seen strewn across the dingy side sole and heel, like bits of year-book scrawlings. 

It looks like her foot may not have gotten longer since whenever these were bought, but toss in a few extra pounds and I’m sure they’ve gotten wider. She slowly struggles with just using her foot to mash itself into her poor old Nikes, but once her left foot was finally halfway in, it drifts up out of my view only to return moments later slamming like a bomb with her heel being forcefully encased into the old shoe, sockless. Much faster than even I perceive or could fathom something that big could move making me scared all over again. She repeated this slow process of forcing her other enormous bare foot into the closer right shoe and once it was to be slammed on she just continued stomping them both in place a few more times, causing my world to shake violently until she was done getting them comfy on her big feet.

Her feet twist towards the door and she heads out. 

On her way she slammed the door pretty hard, probably from the no socks to the gym thing, causing a few items to shift off of her dining table without her noticing or maybe just not caring. 

A thick girly magazine slides off the table and into the chair closest to the shoe rack not far from me which slides back just enough to bump into a protruding high heel.

The bump to the heel was enough to dislodge a partially filled canister of tennis balls on the same upper shelf that hit a semi-exposed flip flop on their way down. The flip flop, acting like a catapult, flings a hidden sky blue sock that was on its toe section that had apparently eluded Hannah right into the center of the arched hallway. This was followed by the tennis ball canister rolling, falling and colliding with the floor, popping open and sending two tennis balls rocketing around the room.

One disappeared into some other unknown pile of clutter, but the other landed with uncanny precision, smack dab into the middle of the small horseshoe like shape the faded sky blue sock had fallen into.

I sat there for a minute being amazed at the Rube Goldberg esque way the ball ended up where it did and the fact the slow-mo feeling was just starting to fade after witnessing it, but then I realized…

This was it….!

This was the best shot I could ever get!

I hadn’t found anything to climb to get me onto a kitchen or bathroom counter for at least a shot of being recognized as something other then needing to be stepped on and disposed of.

Its like its a sign, if I get onto the bright green tennis ball, which normally wouldn't work, but was thankfully stabilized by the old sock, I can wait for Hannah to get home and pick it up. Bringing me closer to her ears or eyes so maybe, just maybe... I can get her attention.

Yes, there was no doubt in me now, this was absolutely my chance and I had to take it.

I run to the ball which seems far to a little guy like me, but staminas been great since the shrinking happened so a full super hero sprint for 7 minutes gets me there. 

I approach the sock ball combo and the first thing I see are the slightly darkened toe prints followed by a  salty sweaty and yet sweet acrid smell coming from the sock. I clamber up onto the toes of the sock and besides the instant increase in the potency of the stale smell, I notice a difference in texture against my skin between the toeprints and the gaps between where her weight was unable to reach. The toe prints felt like thick compounded cloth and foot grime that was stiffer then it should be and the unimprinted parts felt stretched and tacky like an over used gym towel.

I grab hold of the tennis ball giving it a few tugs to ensure my meager weight wouldn't dislodge it from its smelly nest and take note of its fresh from the tube smell. At least I don’t need to deal with Hannah’s sweat and Cola’s dog breath at the same time.

Wasn't tough to get to the top of the ball and once there I decided to just lay back, facing the front door and get ready for when Hannah returns from whatever gym class she was talking about.

To pass the time I start to contemplate on this “class” Hannah went to and how long it would maybe take. Could be a Spin class maybe, or Yoga? I think she had stretchy capris on above those big feet of hers I saw earlier so probably one of those two I bet.

About ten minutes goes by and a pair of thundering footfalls stops outside of Hannahs front door.

*knock, knock, knock* 

“Hello, Miss Biggins? Are you home?” says a burly voice on the other side of the door.

*knock, knock, knock* “Miss Biggins, This is Detective Carlo and Detective Flatz here to just ask a few questions about your missing friend?”

This makes me jump up and angry yell at the door from a top my tennis ball in hopes the burly voice hears me, but no such luck of course.

“You know we’re never gonna find this kid right?” The same burly voice says quieter now.

“Shut it Carlo just slip in your card and lets get outta here.” another more feminine voice says as I watch a business card glide under the door, stopping a foot or so into the entryway.

That last comment I heard didn't make me feel great about all those tax dollars I shelled out to the cops over the few years I did pay taxes. Especially if they were going to give up on me so fast, but at least the business card is another object that will hopefully pull Hannah’s attention to the ground as the detectives lumber off.

More time passes, feels like an hour or so, and a single set of thundering footsteps approaches and immediately begins turning keys in the door.

Hannah must be on the phone cause I can over hear her talking, “was so hot right? Like, I never want to do hot yoga again, but at the same time I know I will cause its so good for you, you know?” 

The door flies open and before me is a titanic sized sweat soaked blonde goddess. I hadn’t really been able to take a full visual of her since the shrinking and man was I missing out. She was in a pink sporty strappy shirt that showcased her now glistening double D+ breasts and skin tight black capri yoga pants showing off her voluptuously shaped ass and creased out cameltoe. Even with her being a little heavier I could clearly see the tiniest of diamond shaped gaps between her thighs and crotch before the door closing took away the light. What a sight to behold.

Hannah was a cushy bombshell that didnt need make up to look pretty, it just highlighted what was already beautiful about her rounder face. I mean, she is 6’2” and a little overweight thanks to all the partying and booze, but keeping a regular fitness regiment allowed her to keep fit under that layer of cushion. Match that body with her blonde hair, blue eyes and full lips and you have yourself a wet dream for certain. 

“Oh my God, I know. I am still sooo sweaty and I left the windows down in my car to air dry a bit even.” She says as she shuts and locks the door behind her.

“The worst is my shoes though, couldn't find socks before I left and my feet feel so gross Julie. Your foot perv of a brother couldn't even enjoy them, and I didnt even where them during the class.” Hannah continues on as she turns her attention to using her left shoe to hold down the heel of the right to begin removal. 

“These babies are nasty just from me putting them on right at the end of class.” She says as I watch her right foots lightly calloused heel appears with a wet pop out of the confines of her years old Nike trainers. She leaves her right foot to flatten out the heel of her shoe and reorients to allow for it to hold the left heel down so it too could be freed from its hot and sweaty prison as well.

Another wet pop and both heels were free. Her right leg lifts and she begins twitching her foot back and forth until her shoe clatters to the ground with a heavy thud and repeats this with her left.

“Oh fuck yes,” Hannah sighs out as her big wide sweaty feet touch the colder hard wood, wiggling her toes a bit to get some extra cooling air flow. “Seriously Jule’s, 60 bucks and I’ll let your bro have one of my old pairs of gym shoes.” She cackles at this, highlighting it was a tease for a hot topic item about this Julie chicks brother.

“It’s just a joke Jule’s, oh fine, whatever bish I love too. Ok Byyyyyye!” the phone hangs up and I immediately hear loud music coming from her Air Pods as Hannahs massive form turned and slowly took a step in my direction. Her purple polished toes flex and lift then drop with scary force. Splaying out her toes and some of her flesh as the weight was applied.

Hannah singing along, “Summa tiiime in the riga Z Z, Riley’s on the” suddenly stops her slow melodic lyrics, “What the fuck is this??” Hannah said as she lifts her left foot up to her knee. 

She had stepped onto the detectives card from earlier and it was sticking from soaking through just from the residual sweat on her reddened from heat,wide and wrinkled sole.

I watch as she slowly peels off the card and brings it up to her puzzled face.

“Detective Carlo?” Hannah says aloud, “Oooh this is probably for what's his face who dipped out at my party.” 

She flips the card over a few times and shrugs. “Bail on my party huh?” she says as she crumples up the sweat soaked business card and tosses it under the table.

None of what I just watched made me feel good as I stood atop my tennis ball nested in a used sky blue sock by fate. My head drops to my hands and I am about to start crying for the first time since this shrinking happened to me.

Its hopeless, no one cares even if I am found... that was until I heard “Is that a tennis ball?”

I look up to see Hannah’s eyes have locked onto me, or at least what I hope is me.

Her size 12’s begin to take a few more quaking steps towards me. I watch in awe fear and adrenaline spiking as I slowly see her soles disappear to flatten her ungodly sized foot atop the hardwood only to flex and left without any issue. Something so big feels like it should not be able to move like that, but her toned calves push her forward like they would for anyone else.

Her massive, sweaty, purple toe nailed feet now reside on either side of my ball and the heat in the area around me begins to increase. The clear and ever present smell of new tennis ball is quickly replaced by the engrossing smell of old tennis shoe. The smell of muggy corn chips and cheese permeate the air around and I cover my nose in a vain attempt to filter it from my inhaled oxygen.

“Well that's weird,” Hannah remarks and her toes slowly flare up and splay out, letting as much of their heat out as possible as she peers down at me. I crane my neck back to see her huge beautiful flush and lightly glistening face. It feeling miles away looking down at me in bewilderment which suddenly transitions into surprise and joy.

“Oh hey! Another sock.” Hannah’s toes slam back into the ground with glee, causing a foul gust to billow forth from her lengthy yet chubby and muggy digits. “I could have used you before hot yoga you know...” Hannah's left hand goes to her hip as her right lifts her phone to her chest.The song skips to something new as she begins tapping the ball and toes of her gargantuan right foot into the wood floor, leaving her heel in place not far from my tennis ball. 

Waves of a sharp and cheesy aroma roll over me with each slow thundering slap of her rapidly drying, sweat covered foot. My world is also vibrating horribly with each smack and I start to loose footing as well as the ball begins to become dislodged from its smelly sock nest. Its starting to roll towards the door out of the horseshoe shaped sock opening heading behind Hannah.

Hannah continues looking at her phone and talking to herself for no apparent reason other then she can as she probably flips through twitter, 

“Just been hanging out with Mr.Tennis Ball huh?” She questions the inanimate object finally looking away from her phone and down at what I hope is me for a moment.

“All while my big feet sweat it out in my Ol’lucky gym shoes huh Socky?” Hannah’s right foot now stops mid tap in the air and her heel draws back along the hardwood making a loud sticky sounding dragging noise as it sort of slow hops in front of where my ball was rolling. 

“Oh, is one of the guilty parties attempting to flee. Ha! How fortunate for me.” Her slow moving majestically huge and smelly foot is now poised ahead of my trajectory. With its toes high up above slowly wiggling playfully with one of the smaller toes knuckles popping loudly once followed by a low “mmmm” sound from Hannah. I struggle to think as it awaits myself and the ball slowly rolling me to what is likely my next durability test. 

I twist to my back trying not to fall, crab walking backwards, the opposite of the balls rotation as to not lose my grip on it or, aka, my only chance at being seen atop it.

I can see her beautiful flushed face with a few stay blond stands having escaped her ponytail. She smiles down at me through the gaps that occasionally appear between she hot, sweaty writhing toes above, just before her piercing blue eyes look back to her phone. Taking all of my hope with their shifted gaze.

“And now I get to subdue you…Mr. Tennis Ball”

As the descent of the flushed red sole of her massive foot begins, my adrenaline spikes again. Time seems to slow even more than the usual and yet my movements are still lagging behind my perception. I witness her soft undulating wrinkles across the sweaty and red hued flesh of the sole lightly soiled with various miniscule debris her wide sticky feet picked up on her saunter over from the front door. They seem like little participants of an angry mobs ready to assist with Hannahs soon to be trampling of me. Her big toe the size of a small home with the others descending perfectly in size with her pinky toe maybe being a little smaller in length than it should be, wiggle up and down as they slowly descend almost as if in anticipation of the heinous act they were about to cause. 

Just under where the balls of her right foot dip into that soft patch of skin that leads to the arch of her foot, is where my face plants its first kiss on Hannah's goddess sized pungent and tacky sole. Her softer than expected foot continues its deliberate fall, molding around my slow, useless little body. Once enveloped by the moist flesh I instantly felt completed covered in a thin sheen of sweat that had a different viscosity than what I would consider normal. Likely from being barefoot on the way home from that hot yoga class in shoes that should have been trashed years ago.

The pressure then begins to increase to a level that the pliable form of Mr. Tennis Ball beneath me begins to collapse and my lungs push out the foot funk filled air they had desperately been holding onto. Slowly, painfully, her foot continues its downward push sinking me further into both her flesh and despair, when it suddenly stops. My face mashed and contorted in a way that my mouth was forced open. My lips pressed over my teeth and my tongue forced out in the open against Hannahs heavy, enveloping, sweaty, stench infused sole.

It feels like an eternity as my slow tongue instinctively tries to retreat, but only achieves to poorly clean a miniscule spot of the small ridges that make up her vast and swirling size 12 footprint. In its continued vain attempts to withdraw, my tongue proceeds to coat itself, then the interior of my mouth with Hannahs sweat, but worst of all. It begins to allow the sour, cheesy, salty, and cloth flavored syrup that is all thanks to Hannah’s hot yoga and lucky gym shoes, to ever slowly meander its way deeper into my mouth. Engorging my throat to the point of allowing the syrupy sweat past my strained esophagus’ defenses and into my stomach. 

After the first slow motion gulp lights up every receptor in my brain labeled “Spit it out NOW!” which was met with a “Not Possible” response from my smashed bug sized body. I notice Hannahs pulse, thrumming through her soles sticky and slimy sweat covered skin.

3 heartbeats and another gulp of Hannahs salty sweat later, I begin to feel the pressure recede and the slight jostling of her soles wrinkles as her toes lift upwards. 

Mr. Tennis Ball is almost back to being fully round again as my oxygen free lungs begin to subtly beg for air when it stops. Her foot just halts as if she is now just idly resting the balls of her large ped on Mr. Tennis Ball. I can visualize her just flipping through various social media on her phone above with no clue as to the torture she is causing on one of her friends. Well I guess ex-friend at this point since I “bailed” on her party.

Through her heavy hot sole I slowly hear her voice vibrate as if through water from within her massive form, 

“Hey Google, are tennis balls good for foot massages?”

As I hear the last two words gradually vibrate through her, my mind begins to panic and I start to feel another boost of adrenaline beginning to spike. My lungs now actively begging for air as Google laggingly replies,

“Putting a tennis ball on the floor and gently rolling it around under foot for a few minutes can help loosen up your arch making it much less likely to become irritated and to prevent an onset of plantar fasciitis. Put enough pressure on the ball to get a deep massage. You may feel some soreness, but back off if you feel any pain.” 

Hannah’s voice returns to my brain being emitted through her foot as it lazily relaxes against my helplessly pressed and oxygen deprived body. “Weird that I never thought of that before, Hey Google, Thanks!” Hannah’s mean smelly foot then proceeds to push back down into me and Mr. Tennis Ball, this time a little faster and with more force. The sensation in my lungs is that of fire. A burning need for air that will take no substitutes and in this state, desperately, my mind unconsciously pleads with Hannah, “Please Hannah, allow me to breath! Please, I’ll give anything, please, Goddess Hannah!” The phrase “please, Goddess Hannah” rings through my fracturing psyche as I am crushed deep into Hannah’s unknowing and powerful soles and poor Mr. Tennis Balls pliable body.

“You are very welcome, Hannah” I hear Google say in the distance as Hannah’s sweat begins its slow forced trek back down my unwilling throat. I hear and feel her big toes knuckle crack above me as the pressure continues to increase. 

“Mmmm, this does feel good.” I hear Goddess Hannah say, my delusional mind replying “YES, I’m making you feel good, so please, please let me breath Goddess Hannah!” My durability must be at its limits as I start to feel new types of pain spring up in various bones and joints and stars begin to flicker across my pressed closed eyelids.

I sense my consciousness fading as I finally feel movement from my friend turned goddess’s huge smelly foot. Her heel having lifted to be parallel with the ground to apply ample pressure to Mr. Tennis Ball, slowly glides forward causing the sole of her foot to act like a steam roller of sorts. Her foot sliding forward causes my body plastered under her, to slowly roll back towards the kitchen. My head and chest were already engulfed by her hot smelly sole, but the lilt forward was causing the focused mass of her weight to painfully work its way across my little body starting from my face.

It painfully creeping over me pressed and passed my face and then torso just as I was about to black out completely. My no longer fully pressed upper body immediately takes action to suck in oxygen, but is instead filled with an invisible heavy fog laced with cheesy, salty corn chips with a dash of vinegar. As I hack and cough at this inescapable cloud of stink Hannah has graced me with, I notice my arms will not budge.

With a little extra effort I was able to force open my eyes which were gooped closed with Hannah's syrupy sweat and after a few heartbeats worth of a burning sensation I was able to see through teary eyes.

My head could swivel a bit, but my arms are thoroughly sweat glued into the fluorescent green fabric. Much like the rest of me I fear. I look forward as I tilt further with the top of my head slowly rolling to face the floor. I can see the whole front half of the sole starting just below the balls of Hannahs massive right foot. There is an almost alluring curvature to the ebb and flow of her soles footprint covered in creamy reddened wrinkles as they lead out to her huge toes that began to splay out in pleasure. Their spreading causing the wrinkles to smooth out like a field of wheat no longer being blown by a breeze and the pressure on my lower half to increase immensely.

Stars return to my vision, but this time its due to the massive smelly foot smashing my balls into putty and not a lack of air. It feels like my testiculars are crawling up into my stomach and I try with all my might to pull free from the sticky sweat adhearing me to Mr. Tennis Ball so I can try a futile attempt at doing the fetal position.

My right arm begins to pull loose as I go further towards being upside down all while Hannah continues to roll her muggy sole farther forward. Thankfully my lower half is eventually relieved of her massive weight because of this and I am now perpendicular to the floor. The ceiling is now the shadowed from her foot hardwood and the floor is the sole of Hannah’s foot starting from her arch close to her heel spanning out to her slowly ever wiggling toes in the distance.

The sight left my mouth agape as the toes unknowingly played with the light causing little beams to appear between them here and there as the monstrous foot shaped shadow on my ceiling danced about gleefully atop a used smelly sky blue sock.

The view lasted only for a few heartbeats and then my feet began to ascend towards the sweaty and smelly steam roller of a foot. A fatter wrinkle has formed where her foot presses into the now fairly flat Mr. Tennis Ball and I watch in horrific slo-mo detail as my feet gradually get enveloped and pulled under it.

It slowly works its way over my lower half causing almost that same level of pain from before, just in a different direction. Calves, thighs, dick and balls become painfully squeezed down into what was a fairly forgiving green surface and without pause continues for my upper half. My right arm is freed for half a second before it gets mashed back down into a new, more painful position as I attempted to stop the rolling onslaught of pressure that Hannahs big stinky foot was putting down onto me. Foot funk infused air is sluggishly squeezed from my little lungs like spent toothpaste tubes being rolled till ensured empty.

I continue to roll backwards under her and after a few more heartbeats my legs no longer felt pressed upon them. My balls feel reprieve shortly after followed by my belly, but thats where its stops. I then feel a breeze pulling away from my lower half as my chest and face are mashed, crushed, and squeezed to unfathomable levels of pressure much like my dick and balls were just moments ago. 

Hannahs heel must have lifted up higher now, angling it so all the pressure was directly placed onto the balls of her sweaty right foot which just so happens to be exactly onto my upper body/face. Once again time slowly ticks on as my lungs begin to silently scream at the smelly flesh ceiling pressing down into my rice sized body. Again I feel her heartbeat and my brain begins to already beg to the completely unaware Goddess Hannah for mercy. My mouth was thankfully closed this time as I was ready for the inevitable crushing of my head and face, but I soon found myself struggling to force open my jaws to try and attain air that I would never reach through this oppressive hot foot above me. 

Five of Hannah's slow and methodical heart beats pass through her flesh pressed into me by the time I feel pressure start to lift. It's not nearly enough to allow me oxygen as it curtails into immense downward pressure again. This repeats three times before her heavy stinky foot lifts enough to allow me a pained, gasping breath of the putrid air she's infused into my surroundings. The short lived gasp allows my mouth to then be crushed into a partially open position refilling my sense of taste with a fresh blast of her salty cheese like sweat another few times before her foot lifts into the air a few inches above the ball. The gigantic foots departure into the air helped pull my now battered tiny form partially pull away from the green fabric of Mr. Tennis Balls body.

The tennis ball gained a small spin from her lifting off it, causing my perspective to shift from facing Hannah directly and vertically to my head pointing towards the left wall leaving me horizontal and having to turn my head to the right to see her. Hannahs foot shifts back a little and her I see here smiling down at me again between her big, playful, reeking toes as they frolic above. They suddenly but, still slo-mo to me, fall from the sky. Eventually smacking down onto the ball around me causing my body to pop up from the adhering sweat covered ball I was on and then smacking into the underside of her pungent toes. I stayed stuck to them for a moment before gravity was able to peel me off of their stinky and sticky undersides, landing the short millimeters of a fall back onto Mr. Tennis Ball. Her smelly bullying toes form a cage over my whole body and betwixt the gaps I watch as Hannahs tongue semi jutts out of her pert mouth and her toes begin to curl methodically downwards with fascinated intent onto Mr. Tennis Ball.

“C’mon Mr. Tennis Ball, let's get you into the living room. You can take care of these big feet after my shower.” Her toes pummel into me as they curl down into the ball. Hannah seems to be trying to pick up Mr. Tennis Ball with just her toes and its not going well for Hannah so far.

The tacky toes grasping and grinding over me thankfully pull me free from the abundance of adhesive like sweat smeared across the once clean Mr. Tennis Ball, but it just causes me to become stuck against the underside of Hannahs middle and second to last toe before, the pinky. Once her toes had pulled me in, I felt like I was a chew toy for some smelly toothless beast. They mashed and mulched me into numerous painful positions over a few seconds before I finally become dislodged, tumbling a few feet to me to the tennis ball below.

A cool breeze rushes past me towards Hannah as her ginormus foot pulls away. I see it slowly flying back towards the door as I stand up on Mr. Tennis Ball. Looking up I see Hannah's face in a frustrated huffy puffy attitude, likely from not being able to pick up the tennis balls with her big sweaty toes. Her tongue slowly emerges from between her soft lips and one eye begins to squint as if she is straining to focus on something.

The light bulb hits a millisecond too late as I realize Hannahs intention is to send Mr. Tennis Ball rocketing into the living room with one swift kick.

Her monolithic foot is already soaring my way like a pirate ship amusement ride coming down from the apex of its swing. The only word that flies into my head at this nanosecond with all the adrenaline I’m sure my glands could muster, was JUMP.

So ever so slowly I jump as hard as I can just as Hannahs toes smack with hellish force into Mr. Tennis Ball. I watch his semi-squishy form bow and mold slightly around Hannah’s powerful toes before, to quickly, shooting off behind me. Hannahs fast and yet slow moving toes continued there forward arc and unfortunately for me the glistening gap between her slightly chipped purple polished big and second toes is where I found myself heading.

With a wet smack I am plastered face first into the gap thong sandals solely exist to hold onto and soon expect the familiar sensation of flying and falling mixed with hoping I survive the flight.

Problem is, none of those feelings happen. I feel a rush of falling followed by a loud thud I feel with my whole being. Opening my eyes I notice my surroundings being worn skin prints and a right arm coated and stuck to creamy toned flesh. The first lungful followed my realization I was actually stuck between Hannah’s big stinky toes. Each breath labored and filled with a smell so potent it takes real effort to remain coherent. The next few steps are hard to get used to and I have no clue where I’m being taken, but I know it's likely nowhere good. 

Hannah’s great strides being slowed down due to my survival instincts stuck in overdrive, not only made them more terrifying, but also more bearable in a way. Knowing when her gait would roll her weight forward and when the impending shockwave would be caused did have its benefits, I suppose. 

A bright light bursts on so far above me I couldn’t fathom the distance and two thuds later I hear what could only be a shower.

Great... I am going to get washed down her drain mingled with Hannah's hot yoga sweat and grime and not a single person would be able to tell any of my family, where the hell I had ended up.

I really thought I had a chance with Mr. Tennis Ball back there, but I guess this is all some cruel celestial prank that was in no way meant to teach me anything other than “I am nothing but a puny speck in this godforsaken universe.”

A shadow falls over me like an eclipse rolling slowly into place as what I presume are Hannah’s skin tight capris fall on her foot above me.

This is it, maybe there will be some green ooze down there and a cool sensei rat to help me with my new found powers… Or maybe I’ll drown on the way to some water treatment sewage plant with the rest of the runoff…

A vibration rattles off on the counter high above me and I hear Hannah respond to some chatter from her wireless earbuds, “Oh my god mom, slow down, what happened!?”

Hannah’s pulse is quickening and her skin is getting a little warmer.

“Cola ate some chocolate! Is she ok?! Oh my poor baby! I’ll be right over mom and DON’T leave anymore cake on the counter please, jeezus!” A phone clatters against counter and the eclipse reverses faster then it came, bringing that bright fluorescent light back in full force.

Hannah, clearly exasperated from the news she just received, begins scrambling to put the clothes she began to take off, back on. Stomping at a quick pace to her, out to what I am guessing is the shoe rack of my nightmares, I resist the urge to lose consciousness. Even as her smelly tacky toes mashed into me, forcing me deep into the flesh of her toe gap while slowly pulling me under her second toe with each powerful slam of her soles against the tile then hardwood floors.

I hear a chair drag across the ground not far from me and in the great beyond above me Hannah says, “Fucking, thank GOD they’re still there.” The weight intensifies on me as I am folded, arms now above me into the creace leading under Hannahs second toe. Cloth stretched and fighting to be pulled over a muggy foot is heard and felt through her skin and movements above.

“They may not match, but they will get the job done. Oh my poor Cola I’m coming!”

My world lifts pulling G’s greater than the normal footfall, slowly coming to rest just above her knee. Her sole flexed and forming a sea of wrinkles above me and I, having been twisted and contorted by Hannahs merciless toes over the last handful of steps she's taken, am able to turn my head enough to see her. Hannahs clearly hot and now bothered face from the yoga class and puppy emergency mixed with a look of determination looms above. Her hands were coming down to me with a dingy sky blue sock in their grasp and she says, “Ugh, I definitely need to wash out this toe gunk I got from the “no socks” earlier.” 

Her monolithic toes do something I was not ready for and flex outward, spreading apart as far as they could. Me, plastered to the creace where her second toe meets her soft smelly sole now being put on display, was definitely not something I saw coming. Her hands move away a bit to allow Hannah a better view to scrutinize the pasty and grimey white-ish toe jam she collected. Her face also craning down to get a closer look with those piercing blue eyes and rounded features.

She is actually noticing me! Like looking at ME!

Desperately I try to pull free from the sticky dried sweat that was so perfectly holding me against the underside of her foot and toe. Every ounce of strength I have left I use for pulling against the smelly sticky restraints that coat my vulnerable little body… and it all amounts to nothing. My pathetic attempts at movements and her undulating toes above just made me look even more like toe gunk to her as Hannah's face drifts away. Replaced by her purple manicured fingers and grungy sky blue sock.

She wasn't noticing me, she was taking note of some worthless jam her toes apparently gathered, nothing more.... I really am just worthless toe junk to her now wasn't I... 

Hannah says to herself still clearly stressed, “I better not let it fall and gross up my floor.” Her pungent and powerful toes slowly scrunch inwards like a trash compactor, causing the wrinkles to begin to reappear along her vast supple sole.  Just as I am enveloped under toe she continues, “I definitely don't want to have to swiffer when I get back.”

The small glow of light that was seeping through the skin of her scrunched up toes was dimmed. I knew what was coming, but I didn't want to believe it. 

I refuse to believe my friend, Hannah Biggins, is going to put me, all helpless, tiny, and squished, inside some old smelly well worn sock. It’s not happening....

The grungy sock begins its attempted ascent, mouth forced wide open by purple polished nails to allow for my soon to be five cellmates entry into its faded color self. I instinctively hold my breath like I am about to enter a tunnel looking for good luck, but find none. 

Her toes squeeze into me a bit more for a heartbeat as the sock first passes them trying to push the little air I had, out, but I won this time. Up the arch and heel of Hannah’s size 12 foot it continued, ending in the snapping elastic cloth sounds around her ankle above. Telling me that she had finished pulling on the grungy sky blue sock/prison cell I refused to think I was in. 

Her foot, now encased in her old sock, falls to the floor. I feel like a meteor was forcing me into the earth as the under toe I was mushed against was slammed into the hardwood.

Durability… check

Reality Check... check

I totally believe that Hannah stuffed me into her smelly old sock now, OK!? 

Fuck whatever bullshit karma or god or science thing that is making me live through this!

The smell is unbearable and is only getting worse as more of the old sock is heated up by Hannah's hot and heavy foot. Allowing for days old smells to become new days old smells mixed in with going sockless after a hot yoga class. A potent blend pushing my olfactory senses to their limit.

“Man, I need to wash these socks.” Hannah says from way above like a goddess speaking through the sky itself. I then slowly feel Hannahs right heel lift and the ball and toe of the foot I was under press down into me heavily.

Again, mashed, airless, wanting to gasp in her toxic pheromones that I think are slowly making me fall in love with her as if she were a goddess like no other, “Ugh, I can kinda feel all the grime buildup on this one.” 

Tilting my head as far off of her toes as the sock and tacky skin would allow me, I scream out as loud as I could, currently facing up between the gap of her toes, “I think I can feel it too, Goddess Hannah! Please get me the fuck out o..!!”

Hannah’s toes mush and wiggle together in her unkempt sky blue sock. Stretching and clenching in attempts to get used to the grimey feeling. Mulching my tiny form and cutting off what was likely my final act of rebellion in the face of the dark side of Hannah’s oppressive and pungent toes.

“Oh wow, this sock is way darker than I remember,” Hannah continues on as she proceeds to playfully jostle her massive foot about, “definitely getting washed after I go help my sweet puppy.”

The toes around me flex up and I feel the first step begin with me trapped in only the first layer of my ripe and musky prison cell. A torturously slow step or two occurs that rocks me to my core as I attempted to learn how to brace for them. Each footfall pushing her toes and wrinkles, twisting me around, but in no way dislodging me from my cozy spot. Each step almost acting like a mushy stinky hand rotating a spit one half turn at a time. Rolling and mushing me around under her huge sweaty toe with my back plastered against the huge sweaty digit when it ends. 

Another mighty lift into what would be the sky for me, and for the briefest of moments, I could see my destination.

My head enveloped up to my ears in one of Hannah’s creamy pale and cheesy smelling wrinkles, holding my view in place like a bully forcing me to look at the toilet before the swirly.

Through the worn and now mesh like portions of the sock around where her toes don’t happen to continuously press their dead skin and stinky sweat. I see a stretched and gaping mouth of the weathered and worn sweat infused Nike’s I saw Hannah push her meaty size 12’s into earlier. 

They lie there, sitting motionless below me. Awaiting another toxic session of sweat infused occupation by Hannah’s merciless yet tantalizingly large feet. At least her behemoth sized peds would be covered this time. Even if the socks were older and already used a few times its still gotta be better than no socks, right? 

Her whiffy toes halfheartedly scrunch a few times as we begin our descent into what looks to be my true and final prison. With each light scrunch of her intimidating toes folding me up completely in Goddess Hannah’s yoga seasoned flesh, cutting my view of the impending doom into a scary slow motion slide show of the rapidly approaching acrid shoe shaped pit through thinned under toe sock mesh. Her soft skin rolling into my screaming mouth each time offering up just a small salty taste of what was to come.

The third slow release after an unconscious toe scrunch leaves me with a shadowed view of a barren and well flattened heel. The once purple shoelace ends hang black, battered and flattened to the edges, stopping before they reach the insole. The numbers 1½  worn nearly away much like the first number 1 had all but been disintegrated by the Goddesses powerhouse foot falls.

Hannah’s toes continue to flex and splay out until they relax against the shoes insole, gradually pressing my puny form stuck to the base of her toe into her sock and then the insole of her ancient trainer. My nose and mouth conveniently pushed and pursed through the stretched mesh of the older sock. Both orifices being unceremoniously filled with sweat that was being squeezed out of the spongy insole as Hannah pressed on to get her stuffy foot further into her shoe. Again I find myself eventually compressed to the point of retaining zero life bringing oxygen, but this time I'm also drowning in foot sweat I can literally taste with my nose.

To Hannah, her sock clad foot glides with greater ease into her smelly old Nikes thanks to her bare skin not causing any friction like before. She hears a vacuum like hiss as muggy air rushes out passed her socked heel sliding into her old Nike.

To Goddess Hannah’s unknown captive however, my open mouth and nose were unhurriedly ground across the length of the well used and zesty foot flavored insole for what felt like an eternity. All thanks to the imminent fear of death kicking my perception to the point of almost overloading. Having been nearly filled to the brim with foot grime and sweat, I feel as though I truly tasted every millimeter I was drug across. 

Finally Goddess Hannah's foot settled in and as her toes lift and relax for the first time since entering, I get to inhale some precious consciousness sustaining sweaty corn-chipy infused air.

This air was thoroughly impregnated by a new effluvious stench created by Goddess Hannah’s airheadedness when it comes to shoes and knowing their expiration date. I don’t think I can mentally fight off this bouquet of musky, cheesey, pheromones for long. The pressure on me doubles, helping to clear my lungs of the snappy aroma and I feel the floor below my shoe prison vibrate above my current position laying perpendicular and smeared to the base of her second toe, signalling she was applying the other shoe. 

The stars were slowly creeping in from the pressure alone, when she finally let up as her other foot stopped moving about so much. Giving me some room again to suck in Goddess Hannah’s sweet foot perfume from under her muggy toes once more. I try not to gag on it as I get some life sustaining oxygen at the same time.

The weight on me quadruples, much faster than the previous doubling I felt before. There was no seeing stars this time, this was just pure white with the fringes being stained an odorous green. Reminding me Goddess Hannah’s foot funk would be with me till the end. As even without any air I could still smell and taste everything left behind from the soaking my poor nose and mouth received earlier.

I hear the cloth of my shoe prison get slowly brushed a few times as Hannah, crouching spider-man style, says aloud, “Man, I should really update my lucky trainers. Ugh, oh my god, is that my feet? Holy shit, I can smell them from here.”

The weight on me octoples and I beg Goddess Hannah for death to escape this oppressive almost unending weight upon my rice sized body. Vision entirely green and now going to black as Hannah stands quickly, to her, to escape the low hanging fog her foot funk was making through her “lucky” trainers. After the pressure lets up and I am allowed to pull in a chest full of sharp footy aromas, I feel as though I am floating between being awake and asleep.

Off in the distance I hear a very faint voice, “Just be lucky till after the move and you’ll get a proper burial. Now let's get this 3 hour emergency road trip going.” A door sounds like it opens and I get another gulp of foot fog clouding up my sense of reality further.

Numerous foot falls later, another distant comment from the Goddess is issued, “Oh of course it's busted now!” My prison is angrily lifted during this statement and smashed into the ground, pulsing the air out then back into my flea sized lungs.

Time and footsteps meld together in a slow methodical rhythm where my breathing was no longer a responsibility I was allowed to have. Goddess Hannah and her heavy footfalls had that job covered for me. Ensuring I suck in her cheesey foot funk in a rhythm best suited to her needs and not my silly need for oxygen.

“I hate the fucking stairs…” a heavier sounding door opens and a memory suddenly pops into my head;

Its normal sized me and Hannah taking the stairs at the college we attended together for the first time. This had to be a few years ago. I wish I had asked her out then. Maybe I never would have ended up contracting some weird shrink thing and living as a piece of toe jam under her if I had just had the balls to ask her out years ago. 

“I hate stairs, but you know what my dad used to tell me to make them fun.” ghostly memory Hannah says through a brimming smile.

I reply involuntarily with, “What?” just going with the playback. The faded see-through Hannah goes down and stops some steps from the bottom of the stairwell as other faceless figures pass by.

She turns and looks over her left shoulder at me with those blue eyes, hair flipping around to switch sides and showing me her beautiful smile, “When you're on the 4th down, go long!” 

With both feet at the same time, Hannah leaps from the fourth step up from the landing, surprising me and a few others on the wide stairs. A few seconds later and Hannah plants her powerful pair of white size 12 Nike’s, that seemed awfully familiar, firmly into the ground. 

Rocking the stairwell with the might of her landing and springing up with her hands in the air, “Touchdown!” she exclaims loudly, bursting the memory apart and bringing me back into sudo-reality.

The abrupt memory seems to have graciously taken the knowledge and feeling of a few of Hannah’s steps down the stairs from me while also helping my groggily foreshadow what was coming. Although the next few steps let me know what I was missing as the angle and drop of her foot were perfect for where I currently find myself. Just the right spot to take almost the full force of the gravity she was applying as she took each step down.

Knowing it was coming any step now I felt relief. Hannah was going to leap off  the fourth step and when she lands, SPLAT! This foot focused torture would finally come to an end.

SLAM...LIFT...SLAM...LIFT...SLAM...LIFT…SLAM...LIFT...SLAM...LIFT...SLAM...LIFT…

SLAM...LIFT...SLAM...LIFT...SLAM...LIFT…SLAM...LIFT...SLAM...LIFT...SLAM...LIFT…

SLAM...LIFT...SLAM...LIFT...SLAM...LIFT…SLAM...LIFT...SLAM...LIFT...SLAM...LIFT…

SLAM,SLAM...LEAP…

Pressure on me spiked and then proceeded into a weightlessness followed by overbearing downward force. 

Here it was, the end was nigh. 

This smelly unconciensious torture by Hannah would finally be stopped thanks to deaths crushing and pungently sweet embrace.

My life flashes before me, but for some reason it's only of squishy smelly memories from the last few days of me shrinking. Almost like Goddess Hannah had pressed all the memories of before I was toe jam that didn't include her, right out of me and into her old lucky trainers insoles. Reliving all the terrible crushing moments in technicolor before being ended by the very sharp and cheesy smelling foot of the woman I was trying to have notice me.

An earth shuddering WHAAAAAM is issued loud and proud as Hannah lands, rebounding the force of her powerful landing back through her wide sweet,yet sour smelling feet and strong legs to almost bouncing up with hands raised. 

“Touchdooown!”