“Soooo he’s awake?” Sarah says in a bid to regain her composure while straightening her posture. She clearly thought I was unconscious and in no way was prepared to hear my voice which had just echoed through the small (to them at least!) room.
You see, I had just slipped up and said a thought allowed. Just a little one you know. Just about how I had hoped that Sarah would say no to essentially stuffing me in her shoe like it was some plausible form of counseling is all. I mean, as fun as it sounds to the odd side of me, it's also not so fun sounding with all the heat and all the hurt from all the walking and the stomping and the smothering… you get the picture right?
Mel of course cuts in swiftly, like a word surgeon, expertly controlling the conversation above, “Yes, of course he is, and there is no reason to be alarmed Sarah. He is only audible from within here.” she says as she stands up from her seat and taps the teal lid hard enough to make a plastic-y sound while getting to look extra ominous. Towering over my cell like the titans of mythology. The tap was loud enough to trigger the hidden mic in the cage and it resonated the same for me, just louder over the speakers in the room. She then rested her right hand on the lid over the handle. It creaked slightly under the little weight she gave it and the fainest clicking could be heard as her well manicured nails unknowingly connected with the plastic here and there. This view was giving me an eerie understanding of how diminutive my stature is compared to her.
“See?” Mel continues, “And outside of this cage he has such a low volume, kind of like a quiet whisper only with a very high pitch to it.” Mel says very nonchalantly.
(I’ll show you a whisper you fuckin…mmm, nope... don’t say anything out loud just yet you dummy! Not sure I want to find out what those consequences are gonna be if riding in a shoe is the main gig, so, deep breaths...)
“Oh?” responds Sarah, “Well that's good to know I guess… fooorrrr...” she hangs on the R a bit, looking like she really didn’t know how to finish the sentence.
“For when you have him in counseling,” Mel finishes for Sarah, “Clearly you wouldn’t want, well... initially, it’s death threats then the cries of anguish or, least of all, pleas for mercy to be heard,” Mel states with a look of disgust briefly appearing in her features, “especially when you're in the middle of talking with say, a customer or colleague. Could be a bit weird trying to explain why your shoe is begging you to take it off right?”
“Oooh, I get you. It’s a bit darker than I thought it was going to be maybe but, point taken.” Sarah says, apparently accepting Mels explanation. Almost like it was a concern Mel cleared up that Sarah didn't even know she had.
Then, just before Mel chimes in again Sarah says, “Almost like, if a tree falls in the woods and no one is around to hear it. Like, did it happen as far as anyone else is concerned?”
(What, am I suddenly not human or something?? I’m an “Anyone” too damn it, ugh, just get to a point where I can safely talk so I can give my 2 cents on all this nonsense going on!)
“Exactly right Sarah, great analogy.” Mel replies impressed with how fast Sarah was catching on. “So there are really no worries if you maybe didn’t want other colleagues to find out you were counseling Mr. Soft this week.
“Wow well... ok so, that's not what I was thinking about initially but, now that you say that…” Sarah pauses and with a curious smirk, looks down at me through my cage.
“Yeah, our data shows it's usually not a question folks address right away and is usually the biggest blocker in the end.” Mel says matter of factly. “No one wants to be morally misjudged by someone who doesn't understand the context of the counseling you're providing.”
“Yeah, totally right, that could kill my social media presence which could mean goodbye internship, but again… who would really know right?” Sarah says hand to her chin, head nodding and far more contemplative and enthusiastic then I’d like to see.
“Now, Sarah, normally we would fully introduce the subject once the volunteer accepts the role of department counselor.” She says, shrugging her shoulders a bit, then looking at me again through my cage's ceiling. “Mr. Soft here was supposed to humor me and be quiet until prompted since I can't shut this broken mic off, but as you heard earlier, he is a bit of a trouble maker.”
I start to open my mouth to finally verbally protest but I see Mel’s eyes lock onto mine and flare large then squint as if lasers were going to fire out. This, I took, as a “stay quiet or die” kind of look so my mouth instinctively closed, uttering nothing in the process, not even an exhale.
Mel reasserts eye contact with Sarah and continues, “Now, I can see him being awake has startled you a bit, but I do hope it does not impact your decision to take on the role of your department's counselor. I want to reiter-”
Sarah suddenly interrupts Mel’s spiel as she was intensely scanning my tiny form, “That's just so weird, he kinda looks like my Ex Jason. Can I like, talk to him or vice versa?” Her curious eyes lingering over my miniscule body which was finally beginning to tingle 100% all over.
(YES! Thank you Sarah, can I talk now please!)
Seems the shrink tasers shock is finally starting to wear off. I could wiggle my fingers a little and I know I can talk now from my slip up earlier. Now I just need my body to wake up the rest of the way and maybe I can at least speak my case from a proper position outside of a spread eagle. Maybe I can make Sarah feel guilty enough to skip having a sentient coworker being forced under her, party hosed and likely smelly toes.
“Oh, no no, not yet. I am sorry Sarah, but you two may not talk just yet.” Mel says releasing her monolithic sized hands grip from the top of my cage and sitting back down. “Not unless you fully accept the role as a Peddy.”
A little confused by the sudden use of the word Peddy, Sarah asks, “You mean Department Counselor right? What's a Peddy besides getting your nails done”
“P.E.D. - D.E. (Department of Enlightenment) is the acronym for our volunteers so we started to call them Peddy’s for short.” Mel smiles as she replies, obviously happy with that nickname.
“Oh my God, that’s so frikin cute and kind of a catchy title.” Sarah says appearing even more onboard, “Is that something I can put down on my resume? Like, Peddy Counselor Stamper?” She giggles a little at her wordplay.
“Well, I guess you could if you wanted. I mean, I’d definitely vouch for you Sarah but with some limitations of course, like not telling the public its true meaning,” Mel says with a light laugh and a selling smile, “oh and the first issue being you having to accept the role.” Mel says getting serious again, “So, what do you say Sarah? Will you help us out with this small nuisance?” She states nodding towards me.
(Wait, thats it!? When do I get to talk? Is it seriously after she accepts the role!? What in the actual fuck dude!)
Sarah ponders for a moment before she leans over my cage, resting her elbows on the table and says, “Ok Mel so… here’s like, the thing. It's a little embarrassing, but as you know the backstory a little bit we can kind of cut to the chase. Do you remember me mentioning earlier that I was out all night and it was a bit of a rough one with me being all irresponsible and partying and stuff.” Sarah says rather bluntly.
“Your candor is totally appreciated Sarah and I do recall you mentioning something about it, yes.” Replies Mel, crossing her right leg over her left and folding her arms as she leans back in her seat, calmly getting into a familiar position of power for herself. Readying to bat away any excuse Sarah may have I’m sure.
“Right, ok so I uh, also kind of mentioned I wasn't able to swap out of my lucky party nylons to make sure I made it into work on time this morning.” Sarah says a bit embarrassed as her cheeks slightly redden, masking some of her light freckles, looking away from Mel and twisting her grimey work shoes under her chair.
“And?” Mel says, as if unfazed.
(And!?...AND!? did she not just hear her?)
Somewhat stupefied Sarah continues, eyes a little squinty, “Aaannd, well, if I had known I was going to be taking on a role where I was going to have to “counsel” a one inch man by stuffing him into my shoes and under these bad girls,” she says slapping her calf, “I would’ve at least showered for the little guy. I mean, the pedicure is only a few days old but still, Mel, these are my “lucky” party hose.” Sarah says with some air quotes, “ Like, I’ve had these sheer’s for the past 7 Ari concerts Mel, shit these have been around since Tswiftes first album. I mean, I have gone through so many sheer no show ankle slips just so the soles on my luckys would stay intact from the prolonged use.” Sarah says finally taking a sec with slight concern now being seen in her face.
(Wow well, that's quite a shock right? I mean, she’s coming from the lady side of the gender spectrum here and she is using the same unwashed pair of nylons for just concerts… maybe it's just a weird tick like Tourettes but with nylons? Naaaah, the hell do I know but, thank you Jesus that Sarah is at least attempting to be reasonable here.)
A semi-quizzical look hits Mel just before she replies…
“And?” yet again... as if unfazed.
(oh, she is fuckin crazy is what she is, fuckin mad as a hatter this one. Deaf much!? Lucky Party Hose = Bad Idea for Tiny Man, OK!)
“And?...” Sarah says, almost stunned by Mel still not seeming to get it, “And, they haven't been washed once.” Sarah says with a little more vigor and a dash of disgust in her tone, trying to get her point across.
“Mel, the last time these saw the barrel of a washer was like 2005, ok?” Really getting on a roll to try and get her point across now, Sarah continues on divulging her smelly truth. “Sure, I only wear them for concerts and major ragers, but Mel, look at my Gram from the last month and I have been to a few concerts and parties ok; I’ve already worn through 4 of my little no show “protector’s” and I’m sure these ones I have on now have got to be getting close, oh! and bt dub’s Mel; do you happen to know where I like to keep these lucky items between each use? Hm? You wanna know how I store these babies?” Sarah asks, grabbing a breath finally.
(Woah wait, concerts AND parties…??)
“Where?” Replies Mel, head cocked and clearly intrigued to find out.
Sarah leans back in her seat, arms crossing, she looks off to her left appearing a bit ashamed to admit this bit, “In the toe of my lucky track shoes, OK; and those have been with me since my feet stopped growing in highschool.”
Mel, intrigued by this revelation, presses Sarah, “Please, there’s no need to feel embarrassed Sarah. I have my own little rituals myself, but if you don’t mind me asking, how did you come about this habit that appears to be thinking “lucky” equates to unwashed footwear?”
Sarah, still a little flushed, turns back to Mel and says, “I just always have. I saw my mom do it when I was really little and ever since she passed when I was in highschool I’ve done it. I’ll take them out if I use the trainers and when I’m done I shove these suckers as deep into the toe section as I can or like, take the nylons out for some fun and stuff them right back in when thats done, rinse and repeat. I know its weird OK and its like a dead mom thing too so, don’t judge alright...” Sarah Pauses for a moment.
(Dear God girl! I get the whole wanting to keep mom alive with something she did but like there's got to be a better way to go about it right?)
Sarah goes on, losing steam as she does, “ and besides, It’s so the luck like… never gets lost, it merges together and… well… keeps them all extra lucky. Like rollover minutes but… with luck you know...” Sarah finishes, trailing off a bit, watching her left index finger trace invisible circles on the clear table.
(Oh well, there you have it folks, the real reasons just plain old superstition... I guess that is a perfectly good reason to, NO! No Sarah, thats not a good excuse for what you’ve done and are doing, its a pretty fuckin lame excuse for an awfully smelly habit that I can only describe as… as... so hot, NO! Jesus Nick, pull yourself together man. Its nasty is what it is… nasty!)
The look of bafflement from Mel after hearing this lingers for a moment before her brain train hopped back on track “Oh my Sarah, that is an extensive list of good reasons for at least myself to avoid those feet of yours, but honestly Sarah, I wouldn’t worry about that too much.” Mel scoffs a little trying to lessen the fragrant description impact she just heard and says, “We know feet can smell a bit sometimes, that's just a part of life, and well, the subjects that signed up to be apart of this policy, such as Mr. Soft here, were to take that into consideration prior to signing which is listed right here in addendum a27 subsection B paragraph 45.”
(Uuuum, excuse me?... You even got smells covered... Christ, nevermind, I’m sure it is. In the finest fucking print it sounds like too…. fucking corporate lawyers...)
“No way!?… Really?” Replies Sarah glancing at me as she grabs the document from Mel who was now handing it to Sarah, pointing to the text that no doubt backed her statement. As Sarah reads it, her demeanor becomes visibly different.
(Oh fuck, is she actually coming around to the idea!?)
She leans down past her waist a bit to her right and looks at her old grungy non slip black on black Skechers. Her nose twitches a little as she gets low into the lean. She cringes a little shaking her head then raises quickly looking back at Mel.
“No wait, oh my god, what am I thinking, when I lifted the covers off of me this morning, my foot funk permeated my whole damn room. Mel, that's just too much for someone to take, even at full size. Especially with him having to be like, right there, ya know just stuck within the source of it all.” She says this, reeling back a bit at the thought of forcing someone in there.
Sarah covers her nose a bit in reminiscent disgust as she continues, “I mean, even I was cringing as I put my feet into these shoes this morning knowing full well how bad they are and I’m the one that uses ancient running shoes and lucky nylons on the reg.” says Sarah's last remaining scrap of dignity, clearly attempting to push against the idea of doing the extremely inhumane act Mel was asking her to do.
“Like, seriously Mel, I can already feel them sliding around in these old work beaters and I haven't even really started my shift yet. Hell, lets put a cherry on top.” Sarah adds, recalling even more about here attire, “I even bought these particular shoes knowing I would never replace them until I quit this job. Just the smell from them alone would probably kill this little guy.” She pushes forward, looking at me with true concern for me, “See, even right now, it's like when you sit in your car and can kind of smell the exhaust when idling in a parking lot. Like, no big deal really. It’s not too smelly, but what you are asking for is some stranger to essentially lock their lips around the tailpipe while I rev the engine girl.” Her shoe below pumps an imaginary pedal as she says this, looking to me with disgust/sympathy as I stare back with two very conflicting emotions.
A desperate longing to know what that intensely described smell was like, as well as severe rejection of ever wanting to truly experience it. Driven by the fear of not wanting to be subjected to such an obviously powerful stench in such a meek and helpless form.
Mel, listening to Sarah's concerns about her foot odor and my safety, nods her head a few times in contemplation and then carefully responds,
“I do, very much, understand your concerns about the smell Sarah, I truly do, but I want you to remember that the subject here has gone through Particle Enhancement and is highly resistant to all the things you would consider normally dangerous for say a bug, heck, even a full size human. We have extensively tested subjects in extreme conditions close, if not slightly worse then what you just described, and all of those subjects are alive and well today. Mr. Soft may very well be “uncomfortable” in the outlined circumstances but, he will be 100% safe thanks to our technical strides, I assure you. Safe from all the smells, the crushing heel pressure, the playfully strong toe scrunching, all of it Sarah I promise. No. I guarantee he'll be safe.”
(...NO WAY THOSE “LAB RATS” ARE OK LADY!!! And what could be slightly worse then what Sarah just described right? I like feet but, man, I can't imagine something like this not mentally and emotionally changing somebody for life. Your just lying to pawn me off and check a box on your forms you bitch…)
“Wow, you really want this to happen, ok just, I need a minute to really think this through, ok? Just a second this is…. This is not something I was ever expecting today so like UUURRGH, you know.” Sarah says with some nervous laughter and miming the act of pulling out ones hair.
A minute in and Sarah's gaze on me starts to feel different. I could see her right hand move down and under the clear table my plastic cage rested upon. She idly plays with her faded black shoelaces dangling from her left foot she had crossed over her knee. We sit there for a good 3 minutes in silence as Sarah contemplates the apparent pro’s and con’s of taking part in Mel’s proposition pertaining to my fate.
My stare never waivers from Sarah’s and my face was shifting between the “please don’t” and “don’t do it, please” faces.
Eventually the time was up and Sarah's head tilts back and forth a few times as she slowly breaks the silence,
“Oooooooh… (Please no, please no, please no) Oook. Why not....
(..fml..) I’ll likely be gone next week anyways thanks to the new internship so, I’ll never even have to worry about any awkward social situations from running into this guy after he gets back to normal size right?” Sarah says with a little relief in her voice, tossing me a sideways “sorry-esque” glance and then immediately pearly whites and smiles to Mel.
“Alright! That's the spirit Sarah!” Mel exclaims happily, “ And besides, you would have only dealt with him if he had earned the right of being normal size after the counseling reviews come in.”
Mels happy demeanor having won the battle and obtaining my first Peddy counselor effortlessly shifted into business mode. “Which is a good reminder to not forget to fill out your review about your time with this little one,” Mel says as she gestures at my cage, “and besides all the corporate mumbo jumbo, remember that he deserves it, ok Sarah. He stole from the Cafe you slave in daily to get here in this predicament.”
“You’re totally right Mel and you know what, I think I can help counsel this little thief back onto the right path… or at least we know he’ll never steal from the cafe again” Sarah says to Mel, laughing and shaking her head at me now, “So like, since you stole from the cafe, that means you slighted me and my cafe compadres little guy.” pointing to herself and then the massive door in the background as she says it. “and now? Well, the only thing you’ll be stealing is gasping breaths of muggy air from inside of my,” Her head cocks upward as a silver painted index fingernail lightly touches her bottom lip in contemplation, “two… no wait three! Holy crap, yeah, three year old work shoes.” She exclaims with a devilish tone and devious look.
(Dear God... no... She’s fully turned… Mel did it… And wow, it was so easy for her too… Does another's life truly mean that little to strangers even within the same company? For her to have been so easily swayed after knowing what she will be doing to me is nuts. Yeah, I know she’s essentially a stranger that flipped a burger or two for me over the years but... are humans really that heartless towards those that aren't in their little social bubbles…?)
The tingles in my body are just now subsiding, but quickly get replaced with fear triggered goose bumps. The lid to my cage suddenly snaps open and I quickly jump to my feet.
“Oh, looks like you're all better now huh? You were playing possum I see, Mr. Soft?” Mel says as her right hands pink nail polished fingers reach into my cell trying to grab me from its confines.
“No, come on lady’s, please! You don’t have to do this! The threat of being confined to that woman's shoe alone has scared me to conformity I fucking promise! ” I yell desperately juking to and fro between Mels fingers, all of my panting and pleading being heard clearly in the room above, “Sarah! Sarah please! I didn't steal anything! I put the money on the damn counter for fucks sake; I just couldn't wait in line cause something came up, I swear! Please Sarah, you gotta believe me!”
“MmmHmm, Thats a likely story coming from a little swear jar of a man who is just unwilling to accept his due punishment, even after he signed up for it himself.” Says Mel whose well manicured fingers continue trying to pluck me from the cage, endlessly chasing me around as I just barely dodge and weave out of their grasp.
(Holy shit!? I am surprisingly spry and nimble at this size, probably thanks to the reduction somehow. I guess shrinking does enhance you pretty damn good physically cause I am definitely feeling better than usual.)
“Sorry you little Softy but, you signed up for this and then decided to go ahead and mess up anyway.” Sarah says with a fake pouty face I would catch a glimpse of occasionally as I ran about my acrylic cell,
“So, as your very first Peddy Counselor,” She giggles, getting her lightly freckled face with yesterdays spruced up make-up right up to the cage's side, watching Mel’s failed attempts at grabbing me.
“I am going to have to show you what life is like in the Cafe… From like, a line cooks shoes of course.” She taps her left shoe as she says this to my scrambling form. “And it’ll be my last good deed for C.G.T.S. before I leave. Heck, I may even get some kind of resume candy out of it thanks to the nifty title. Which, I’ll be sure to thank you for by adding in a few extra hugs into your counseling regiment.” Sarah says appearing truly grateful and then adds, “Obviously these hugs will come by way of my sweaty toes of course. Can’t have any slack in your upcoming routine right!?” Sarah finishes, giggling openly, while her toes violently wiggled and shook her left shoe clad foot about. The toes bulging up the front of the shoe, straining the cracking and fading patent leather.
“Right you are,” Mel says with a tone of escalating frustration. “Ok you little buggy son of a... that's it!” Mels right hand suddenly lifts from the cage and grips one of the clear walls, I could see her four finger prints mashed to the outside and her pink thumb nail within. Reaching out her left hand, her face looking to Sarah, “just hand me the shoe you would like Mr. Soft to be in.” Her fingers in unison curling a few times in a gesture of “give it to me” is out awaiting to be handed what was requested.
“One “chamber of the line cook secrets” coming up Mel,” Sarah says happily uncrossing her legs and looking between her two grungy shoe clad feet, “Uuummm, I guess I’ll go with the left since I’m left handed or footed, I should say.” laughing lightly as she’s leaning down. She shuffles around a bit and with a short lived struggle her shoe pops off. Revealed, is a dulled and worn down black nylon low cut sock over the foot of the swirly faded party nylons just as Sarah said.
From beneath the top view of the low cut nylon I see what used to be silver swirls now appearing worn to a faint outline of what they used to be. There also appears to be a small hole atop the gap between her big and second toes on the underlying themed nylon that seemed to glisten slightly with sweat even through the black mesh, showing off a small peek of silver nail polish from near the cuticles. Seems she has matched her fingers and toes with that same sparkly silver.
“Oh god, yeah *cough* that's really bad. Oh wow, I am like so sorry Mel” Sarah says embarrassed and covering her nose as she hands over the shoe.
“Holy crap, Sarah, did you open a bag of like, sea salt and bleu cheese corn chips, geez?” Mel teases a bit, turning her nose away as she grabs the shoe.
“Hey! Come on Mel, I warned you! OMG, but you’re right they reek so bad. Shit, didn't I tell you Mel. I told you they were a bit “extra” today!” Sarah's freckles disappear as she blushes from embarrassment.
“Oh please Sarah, I was kidding, I’ll be just fine,” Mel points her nose in the opposite direction as she lifts my cage and begins to tilt it to a corner. The smell of Sarah's shoe hits me with an astonishing amount of fragrant force before I even see the dank dark pit I was destined for.
(Mel pretty much nailed it on the smell besides a bit more musky-ness and it probably being 100 times more potent at my size.)
“This little guy however,” she states as I slam into the plastic corner and begin to slide down it to where the ceiling had snapped on.
“Well, lets just say he may have a very different opinion.” Mel says laughing vindictively, watching me toboggan perfectly down the rounded clear plastic corner under her control.
My hands instinctively clasped over my nose as I see the gaping mouth of Sarah's 2, no sorry, 3 year old Skechers eagerly waiting to accept me. I try to turn and clamber at the plastic, fiercely holding my breath as I slide, but the angles just too steep. Plus the heat and humidity that was wafting up to me was already beginning to sapp away my strength.
In what feels like slow motion, I tumble from my cage.
Between the rotations of my fall, I see the deformed remains of what was the once proud logo and slogan on the insole. The motto mostly intact with the letters “Sk” all but rubbed out. The barely legible remainder on the insole now read to me as;
“Snap - U "
" rech ”
Which was feeling awfully apropos to the absurd situation I found myself in, triggering the feeling of being downgraded to the company title of “Wretch" all while the air was growing hotter and muggier by the millisecond as I get ever closer to finishing my fall.
The mouth of the shoe now begins to slide up past my peripheral. My eyes no longer able to clearly see through all the tearing up thanks to the odorous wind whipping past me. I can literally feel the air's moisture clinging to me and trying to begin condensation on my comparatively cooler skin, then;
*plop*
I land with a wet thud, face first where the “S” used to be.
“Holy fuck it stinks in here!” I scream from the cavernous interior of the shoe. Likely expelling the last remains of clean air I was holding onto.
“Oh wow, you really can't tell what he is saying at that size, there's just these barely audible squeaks.” Sarah muses, “That's so crazy!” She exclaims with a small bounce of giddy exclamation.
“Isn't it though?” Mel says with her face still pointed away from my new cheesy smelling chambers as she hands Sarah back her shoe.
I manage to struggle/flip over onto my back even with all the jarring movements just as Sarah positions and drops the shoe to the floor. My world suddenly free falls as I lift a few feet, to me, from the floor only to slap back onto the swampy insoles surface. I look up to see Sarah's face upside down looking at me as I lay resting inside her shoes heel cup.
“Oh woah, that is just such a weird sight to see,” Sarah says almost whimsically taking in the view before her, “A small, tiny, little 1 inch man, who happens to look an awful lot like my Ex, laying on the sweaty worn out insole of my nasty non-slip Shape-Ups… it is waaay too early in the morning for this right, I have to be aslee,” Her trance ends as she snaps out of her odd appreciation of the view and starts to reposition herself. Her face pulling far off into the distance. Her sheer silver swirled nylon rises up and I truly see one of them for the first time.
He pale cream colored foot, masked behind and barely seen through the clearly worn and now very transparent sheer stocking layers. A few runs in the soles here and there but, they are surprisingly thin for how many times they seem to have been worn recently. Vibrant silver painted toes that were probably pedicured days ago, flash their brilliance at me here and there as her toes wiggle above. I notice a dime sized hole in the outer sock that had torn open just under her playful toes near the pad of her shapely younger foot.
As it begins to tilt and lower to cram itself into my new “Counseling Quarters” Mel stops her for a moment. “Oh one sec Sarah,” I see Mels familiar pink polish come into view and grab the back of the shoe I’m in. It lifts and sends me sliding down into the darker more pungent confines of the grimey work sneaker. As I slide I see the size tag on the tongue, barely legible as well. I think I see what looks to be a 1 then a space for another long worn off number and what looks to be a ½ as well.
(Thats a decently sized foot for a woman, she must be at least 6 feet or taller to have a foot that big.)
To a normal sized person they’d seem a little big but, to my small frame they were like, Giga Godzilla sized. I could easily be scrunched comfortably under her toes at my height which was probably going to happen if I kept sliding.
Mel finally dropped the back of the Sketcher and the light dimmed like she was looking into the shoe. I was just past where the lace starts near the toe, I could see a few cracks of light fighting their way in from above and lighting the shoe around the tongue and lace holes. It was just enough to see that I was leaning against a slight rise in the raunchy moist floor. I stand up trying to wipe my wet hand on something but my bare thigh would have to do.
I peer around the hot and humid shoe while trying out every conceivable way of covering my nose in feeble attempts at stopping this girls foot funk from attacking my olfactory receptors,
“Ok Sarah, now that we got him settled, here is the pamphlet for what you can’t do.” I hear from Mel far above.
“Wow, that's thin.” Sarah replies.
“Well, they are practically indestructible at that size.” Mel says coyly, “And here is a binder of suggested activities and training we have come up with, but you can of course make it up as you go.”
“Oh wow, that's thick!” Sarah exclaims, laughing, as I hear pages turn, “Oh no that's so mean… oh look at that one, woooah, would have never thought of that… holy shit even that's ok to do to him!”
“Yes, yes, it wouldn't be in there if we hadn't made sure it was tested.” says Mel as a heavy paper thud is heard on the table above.
(Oh dear god, what's in the binder!)
“Alright, you're good to go Sarah, try to keep him at your toes for the most part today ok, he is still kinda fresh in terms of reduction and to be safe he will need one more day for him to reach peak durability, but he’s had enough time to incubate and with your stellar employee records I expect he’ll be fine.”
(Oh yeah cause records are just oh so fucking truthful…)
“Awww thanks for the trust Mel,” Sarah replies as she peers down at her shoe and says, “you hear that little guy? Sounds like its only gentle smelly toes on the menu for today. I guess I’ll have to wait to dish out some real punishment for your crimes tomorrow.”
Mel interjects, “Oh uh, Counseling is the term we like to use in lieu of the term punishment.”
“Oh, my bad Mel; I can’t wait to dish out some real “Counseling”.” Sarah says winking at Mel, just as her left sheer double nylon clad foot lowered into the mouth of the shoe.
“Here I come little guy, better get in position, I may have trouble maneuvering you with all of these pesky old nylons on.” Sarah's sheer covered silver clad digits appear above me, dropping to the floor at the heel, forcing the shoe to mold and rock to her foots whims. The toes lift and I see the edge of the little dime sized hole on the shielding nylon slip into view before they slam back down closer as if she was walking them towards me. Each rise and fall wafted an intense heat wave of cheesy salty aroma that so badly wanted to be stale as well, but was being pressured into revitalizing its pungent history thanks to all the fresh sweat and heat. More savory than vinegary and cloying to the lungs with all the moisture they emitted with each wave. It was like New Orleans on the hottest most humid day of the year times 10. Her playful teasing knocked me on my ass easily so I swapped to all fours and try to crawl up the slight rise that I assumed was caused by the lack of toe or foot, meaning it was my unfortunately pungent sweet spot. Being caught up and wedged right into the crevice of the under toe was likely the worst place to end up in terms of smell, but also the safest in terms of pressure.
As I lay down on my back I notice the more toyed with and cushey nature of the under toe hump had allowed it to hold more moisture than the rest of the well worn insole. Soaking my naked form further, thanks to its oily thick nature making me feel heavier and a bit sticky with no scrap of me untouched by her perspiration. I gag a little as her toes finally reach me and lifted above my measly “wretch” of a body.
They came down on me with unanticipated force, she was off center and her big toe mashed into my little body forcing all the air out of my lungs. I hear distant muffled voices.
“OH! I feel him under my big toe! OOoooh poor little guy,” She says as her toe lifts and pats me into the squishy under toe hump a few times, forcing me to take in and then loose deep breaths with each heavy tap, inadvertently and forcefully controlling my breathing. Making me suck in far more funk then one likely should, “it must be “Sketch” as hell in there for him,” Sarah says, laughing at her horrible shoe pun, “hahaha... Now deep breaths little one, I want to feel that little nose sucking in as much air as it can, you hear me?” Her toe lifts after a few more heavy taps and finally passes over me. Sarah then let her foot fully drop on me again a little more on the rough side.
I was stuck right where I thought I’d be. Head pointing towards her big toe nestled under her second with my feet heading towards the pinky but not making it past her third, lying on my back and held down tightly by her snug sheer nylon that didn't have enough fabric to let some roll up under her toes thank god. These were just stretched taught from toe to heel perfect at keeping me immobile under her sweaty stinky toes as they heavily scrunch and flex above me. Probably trying to locate my little body beneath them in vain attempts at Sarah's version of a hug.
“Alright, I think he is in the perfect spot... I think...” a likely grinning and muffled Sarah says as she taps her shoe a few times, sending my brain spinning.
“Great! Well, I will see you Monday morning for drop off. Dont forget the review paperwork and have a great time counseling, Peddy Officer Stamper.” Mel says muffled above in an excited cadence.
With my new position I could almost feel Sarah laughing through her body as her toes writhed on top of me my world began rocketing forward and crashing downward, rocketing forward and crashing downward, over and over.
(Fuck, this was not going to be easy, my heads already swimming from this overwhelming smell from her unwashed feet and nylons but, now I have to deal with this constant rollercoaster ride too?)
“Oh I will Mel! Thanks for talking me into this, I won't let you down.” Sarah says as I hear a door open.
“You are so very welcome Sarah!” is the last thing I can make out before a door closes and there are just too many muffled office sounds to make out clear speech anymore.
Sarah then continues on towards the cafe no doubt. My smelly nylon encased toe ceiling continues mashing downwards, the underside of her long second toe just barely dropping and scraping at my nose each step, almost as if it were taunting me.
We stop for a moment and then take a few steps before turning on the ball of the foot I was almost under. The heel then lifts backwards and up, resting against something causing her toes to mash down into me and past me a little, forcing me under the soft beginning of the ball of her cheesy squishy foot. Nose enveloped by her oppressive smelly skin I feel the floor start to shake and we begin to fall slowly. Must be the elevator and she's leaning on the back wall, hope this is quick I am starting to fade. I attempt to struggle, but it only uses up what little feet infused air I had packed into my mini lungs. Just as the elevator stops her foot lifts off the wall, allowing me to suck in the toxic oxygen blend only to just as quickly mash it out of me on her follow through stride, right before I could nab any of its much needed oxygenated resource, forcing me to abruptly blackout.