TAP TAP TAP. TAP TAP TAP TAP. The knock pattern on Brett's door was insistent.
He finally roused from his slumber, wiped off a rivulet of drool from his chin, and called out "What??"
"Brett, please open the door. I want to talk to you." It was his mom.
"What time is it." he asked groggily.
"It's dinnertime and I made you your favorite. Now open the door and let's talk."
He looked out the window. The sun had fallen and it was pitch black. He had just knocked out for six hours at least.
Lazily, the boy got to his feet and unlocked the bedroom door.

Gazing penitently, his mom looked at him straight in the eye and spoke in a hushed tone. "So Brett, I want to say I'm sorry about the little, eh, joke that I pulled earlier. Y'know, it was an idea I had because I was drinking, and I wanted to teach both you and my friends a lesson-"
Brett exhaled rapidly, indicating his disaproval with the apology.
"-and, well, I was very aggravated how gleefully they wanted to dominate a shrinkee. And you have to admit you learned something. You didn't expect to see this side from Cindy, did you?"
Brett shook his head. She could get a little bit kooky, but he indeed hadn't expected this, and he was greatly gratified that she had pulled back before doing something both of them would regret.
"Well, she told me to tell you she was very sorry for trying to ask you to do those things. And I feel really certain that you won't ever see that side of her again."
"I accept it, mom, but you had Melissa do it when she didn't know who I was. And that part was your fault."
"Yes, Brett, and I'm sorry. I wanted to punish you for what you were doing, and I wanted to show her that her feelings about shrinkees were wrong. That they could be sons, husbands, brothers, neighbors."
"Well, it was a dumb idea. She told me she definitely wouldn't have done that if she knew who I was. You pretty much set her up."
"I know. I get it. I was drinking too much. I'm sorry. Seriously, I get that it was wrong. But please try to understand. I'm trying to convey to you how much it has upset me to see you doing this with teachers who DO know you, but don't have to live around you or with you. They are acting inappropriately and taking advantage of you. My friend Katie showed an unhealthy amount of-and there's no other word for it-LUST for you, even if she tried not to express it in my presence. You're not only not resisting it, you seem to be cultivating it. And all of that has been hard for me to bear, it makes me SO angry."
Brett shrugged blandly. "Yeah, some of my teachers have been rough. But some of them haven't. Some of them have been alright. It changes nothing. I still have a job to do. Lee-Reilly still wants me to get the certifications done."
"Brett, you're not even doing what you're setting out to do. These certifications are a sham. You aren't helping people learn things that are pertinent to real disciplinary techniques. You're just showing up, letting them do whatever they want, and then rubber-stamping that they did the training with you. I bet you aren't even going through half of the paperwork with them, or the real training scenarios, before you sign off on these.
Brett paused and considered the accusation. Except for Ms. Olivier, who had fastidiously wanted to learn, and Ms. Issakinen, who already had experience with shrinkees from prior drills, he hadn't done much of the actual documented training steps with the teachers. But was that really his fault? He was doing as he was told. He was not running the show. If they didn't really want to learn, if they reckoned that this was just a game and they'd never shrink a student in the classroom anyway, it was not his problem.
Brett dug in. "So what if I'm not? It's their own signatures on the applications too."
Nancy still kept trying to win him over. "Honey, come on. They are having this forced down their throats. They have been told they have to get trained, and we held out for a while, but now that you volunteered for the principal, there was no practical reason we could come up with for delaying. Every one of the teachers who wasn't yet certified refused to do it for various reasons. Some of them just claimed to be too busy to get it done so far. Some just expressed an aversion to adding shrinking to our school's practices. That includes me. Some of them, maybe Katie, also maybe felt they were afraid that they'd be tempted by the opportunity to use a shrinkee unfairly. But it all boils down to one thing: there were enough of us that didn't want to do it, that we were holding Lee-Reilly in check and preventing her from dragging us in that direction. You have personally upset this balance and it's going to be bad, Brett. Westwood could become the first school in the state to do shrinking as an acceptable disciplinary format. There's bad kids, yeah, but we can figure them out without that heavy-handed tool."
Brett just shook his head. "You've told me this all before. I get it. But it's gonna happen regardless. If not me, they'd find someone else. And if you saw my contract, you'd have realized how much money this is worth to me. And other benefits too - with Lee-Reilly working for me and not against me, my GPA is going to sail right through senior year."
One last shot. Nancy pleaded with him to just walk away. "Hon, it's not got to be about the money. We can get the money. You're going to go to college. We talked about it since you were 14, we discussed the sacrifices, we talked about where you could get part-time work. Don is getting better, he is not going to hinder you and you might even find his life experiences helpful. Even your father might come through with that college fund he talked vaguely about. And are you worried about punishment from Lee-Reilly after this? She can't enforce that contract. She wants to sue, I'll go get Paul-"
Brett rolled his eyes with exasperation as she mentioned her ex-boyfriend Paul, a lawyer whom they hadn't seen in a year or more. They hadn't departed on particularly acrimonious terms, but given how much of a crass cheapskate he was, she would need to be doing him some particularly enthralling favors to get free legal help, and he didn't even want to think about it.
"-and we'll have a slam dunk in court. And grades? Brett, half the teachers at the school think that the shrinking is impractical and are largely opposed, and 3/4 of the staff think that Lee-Reilly is a horse's ass and would have nothing but love for you if you defied her. You wouldn't get free A's, but you'd have a perfectly fair chance and plenty of leeway. She can't punish teachers for grading you fairly, and she only has crude, cumbersome means of punishing teachers unless they grade you well. Put all that together, and you don't really get much out of it-"
Brett lost his patience. "No mom. No. You just don't get it. I could do all those things and suffer more but why? Why make it so much harder? We've already had it tough here for years! I want things to get easier for me! I want to get ahead!"
"Why? Because you're taking the shortcut and cheating yourself out of a year of education. Because you might get into a better school but it will be because of fake grades and you will crash and burn. Because you're doing it at the expense of your pride. Don't you have any self-respect? You are sullying your name in this community, and by extension mine. People are talking about you. The gossipers are calling you a foot slut, and insinuating that you were abused as a child. People like me who know you are running out of ammunition to defend you because you just keep doing it. If you quit now, we might be able to undo the damage, but it's literally the last chance. This is more than just you, Brett. We're talking about changing the face of American education here."
Her boy was nonchalant. "I'm not taking it. I don't want that last chance. Stop judging me for engaging in a simple business transaction. I don't care about your school politics and weird ideas about honor."
Nancy was starting to grind her teeth in annoyance. "So you're going to follow through with this? You're going to accept these ill-gotten gains? You're going to help Lee-Reilly make unaccountable shrinking practices a reality in education across the nation?"
Brett smiled smugly. "Yes to all the above. Now I'm hungry. Thanks for dinner."
His mom placed her hand on his arm as he tried to get around her in the doorway.
"That wast your last warning. I have tried to be reasonable. After you are done with Mrs. Padmanabhan, you have to get through me. If you still need to be taught a lesson at that point, I'll oblige."
Brett pulled away angrily. "Stop threatening me. You already tried to teach me a lesson today. It didn't work. I still think shrinking can be good under the right circumstances. But thanks to you, now we have a really fucking awkward relationship with our neighbor. So get over yourself. I am almost a grown man, and I am doing what I want to do and what I agreed in writing to do, and you can't do anything about it."
Nancy clicked her tongue and seethed as her son walked by.

---

As the last week of school passed, with Brett studying mostly for his finals, Wednesday began with a communication technique Brett had experienced before: an email from the teacher who'd be shrinking him today.

    Subject:our training today
    From: Alka Padmanabhan (alka.padmanabhan@wwhs.edu)
    To: brett (brettttank@gmail.com)

    Brett, I'm sorry I'm having to take you after school but I was told that we had no choice but to do it today, and I already have other errands to run. You'll be with me until the evening and then Nancy will pick you up or I can drive you home.
    Come by my classroom after third period, before the pep rally.
   
    Sincerely
    Mrs. P
    
He had found it strange that she was asking him to come at that time. She wouldn't have time to do anything with him in the ten minutes between third period and the pep rally. The unusual nature of this request was replayed in his mind as he approached her classroom door that afternoon, seeing it surprisingly empty.
"Hello Brett." He heard Mrs. Padmanabhan say from behind his shoulder. She was untying one of her sneakers on a chair in the corner, carrying a small bag which evidently had a change of clothes in it, as she was not dressed for teaching class. She had on an athletic T-shirt and pair of running shorts, exposing her thin, darkly tanned legs. The slight woman, perhaps five feet tall if that, was typically dressed in a power-color pantsuit.
"Hi, Mrs. P." He saw her expressionless face greet him with no smile. She was typically a very quiet and serious person, and with her droning lectures in a thick Indian accent, had typically failed to capture his attention during class.
"Good to see you again. Well actually you are now my coworker, it seems, Brett. So you should call me Alka, not Mrs. P anymore. Principal Lee-Reilly has told me that you are paid for your contracting work in this shrinking thing. Well, I do not think I will typically shrink students, so I thought it wasn't really worth it, but she is making me do it." The woman didn't sound happy.
Brett tried to make levity of it. "Haha I wouldn't quite say coworker. I'm just helping out. But I will call you Alka if you want."
"Are you ready to begin now with training Brett?"
"Well yes, but, isn't it time for the pep rally?"
Alka actually laughed. He had so rarely heard her laugh before in class. "Yes silly, why do you think I'm dressed this way? I am in the staff relay, we'll be racing the students. Just for fun. But they better watch out, I am a keen marathon runner."
"So... how are we going to get started now?"
Alka stared slightly at him. "Sorry if I'm not clear with you. Like many previous teachers you will be doing your containment portion of the training in my shoe. I was told by Lee-Reilly that we should start it during the rally. You have been under other teachers' feet before, right?"
"Well, yes, but-"
"So, why are you acting nervous?" Alka asked with sincere confusion, as she peeled off her socks and flexed her toes on the floor.
"You'll be running with me in your shoe? That is going to be intense, I haven't had that happen before." This wasn't quite the case - but it had only taken place with Loren, whom he knew hadn't written any of this in the report. There was a possiblity that Lee-Reilly was making up stories again, but why would she want to make it harder for him in the final stretch? After this, it was just his mom, and then he'd be home free.
Yet despite his protestation, the humorless Mrs. Padmanabhan continued with indifference. "Hmm that is not what I've heard from Lee-Reilly. Well, even if so, you don't need to worry. You are going to be tough enough. I'll make you 1 inch size. I know that it will get sweaty in there, but you seem to be okay with that. And actually I have heard you prefer it that way, so you will be in luck today. I thought it was weird but actually Wendy told me you licked her feet. I won't ask you to do that but I guess you can if you want. This is all weird for me too. I know how the shrink control works and I know you can talk to me with your wrist control. So let's get started. I already read the training document."

WHOOOOOOOoooooooooshhh. The instructor had been truthful when she had said she'd read up - the shrinking gradient she used was very gentle and followed the recommended firm press followed by slowly letting off the button when nearly at the desired size, then auto-adjusting to the final size.

Loren's app still worked becuase his wrist buzzed.

AUTOMATED MESSAGE - This is the ShrinkProtect app. It has been detected that you were shrunk. If you have authorized this, press Y and your 6-digit PIN. If you have not, press N. If no message is received within 10 minutes, escalation measures will be taken.
    
    Y*****
    
    Thank you for confirming that you authorized this shrinking.

Alka was walking toward him at this point. He heard the roar of his massive clothes overhead rustling as she threw them off the pile. Then she found him standing there. Across her face spread a very pleased smile through which her somewhat crooked teeth were peeping. She appeared to find it funny that he was so small and wearing a silly leotard. The reaction she was having was one of amused astonishment. It was so bizarrely uncharacteristic of her typically staid persona, and coupled with the gym clothes she was wearing when she normally dressed so conservatively, he felt like he barely knew her.
"Ha ha, okay so Brett, I'm going to put you in my sock now okay?
She held his body over a bright yellow no-show sock, of a relatively small size, and then with a little hesitation, released him. Falling backwards on his back across the slightly damp cotton, he slid downwards what seemed like an incredible distance into the toe section, scraping through bits of dirt and fluff. He landed face first in the flexible cotton, bouncing back slightly. The thin socks let through a good deal of light and he could clearly see the number 6 in the sole. So she had size 6 feet, Brett thought. Pretty small, he thought.
But at his height, a very small woman's foot was still enormous. He was struck by the sight of the slender, slightly wrinkled sole wriggling its way into place in the sock as the toes groped their way to the bottom until they had taken hold of Brett and had made their intention clear to knead him and toss him around.
The setting became tighter as she shoved her socked foot roughly into the shoe and quickly laced it up tightly. He was half underneath, half between her toes, and she kept windmilling them around so as to toss him between her toes. The most worrying part for Brett was that her shoes were much looser than Loren's had been, so he could not be tucked into place, but would have to actively avoid being crushed too hard.
"Hmm!" Alka said thoughtfully. "You are like a little fidget toy, Brett. Well, I hope you are okay with what we're going to do. Sorry in advance if I am rough."


Inside the shoe, as Mrs. Padmanabhan shuffled her feet across the halls, Brett shivered from the coldness of her sole. It was like she had been sitting with her feet immediately in front of an AC duct. Her toes cradled him, the wrinkly flesh massaging and squeezing him on all sides, as though attempting to extract warmth from him. But he could feel a change. The air temperature changed as she walked into the auditorium. The pattering of her feet became drowned out by the sound of the high school band playing the national anthem. The anthem faded out to rapturous applause, and was followed by weak voices of staff over a tired old intercome system that were impossible to distinguish over the chanting of raucous kids. Westwood school spirit was stronger and louder than ever. The air conditioning in the old auditorium was weak and this worked to quickly alleviate Brett's feeling of coldness. He started to feel Alka's foot grow warmer and start to moisten.
But he couldn't focus too much on temperature, as Alka kept him off balance. She tapped her foot relentlessly while sitting in one of the bleachers, chattering at a medium level with some of the other teachers. He couldn't hear what they were saying, but he knew what was happening in the background. Contests of strength and agility were happening between classes, with isolated parts of the room erupting with groans and cheers each time. There would finally be challenges which were designed to set up "fair" fights between staff and students. That would be where he came in.

Alka finally got to her feet and he felt rapid footfalls as she went down to the running track, now littered with humorous obstacles for the audience's amusement. He heard the announcer's muffled speaking and felt Alka's short toes grasp him and give him a quick squeeze, as if for luck.
"Brett time to race now. I've got a one on one and then a relay."
The teacher's foot pummeled Brett mercilessly as she started running. Using a method he'd learned under Loren's foot, he struggled for purchase out of the pressure zone under her fast-moving sole and managed to hold onto her toes. But he kept getting jostled with all the empty space, and his grip was slipping as she began to ramp up the perspiration. The air was hot and heavy with her sweat and the texture was getting sticky and viscous as it mingled with sock lint and dirt in the shoe. He faceplanted into the gap between her big and second toe seemingly on every other stride, taking in the salty detritus as though he were diving into a vat of it.
There were mostly groans from the crowd, as it seemed that Alka had beaten her challenger, who was doubtless one of the faster boys at the school who didn't realize that the short Indian woman was a ringer. To Brett, the first race seemed to be over relatively quickly, but afterward the pulsating power of the foot muscles still seemed to emanate around him. In the humid darkness, he laid against the top of her foot to catch his breath, feeling her sweat coat him, while a pumping vein indicated her blood was still moving rapidly through her system, ready for the next exertion.
He understood this this was just the respite. She would probably be the last leg of the staff team in the relay, as she was likely their fastest runner, so he had a few minutes to get ready for the next onslaught. Then it came. The world suddenly jerked around as though he were in a sweat-filled washing machine. He wrapped his arms around her two smallest toes and tried to hold on to the top this time, not wanting to get punished underneath. Though he had figured out a safer position, it still did not stop him slamming into the top of her foot on the downard cycle of every step, bashing his chest and face against fresh beads of hot, foul sweat. He held on until the end. Alka had finished in a narrow victory for the teaching staff. She shifted Brett's body around by fanning out and flexing her toes, then eagerly embraced him as a fidget toy in their sticky clutches. Brett marinated sullenly in her sour, spicy sweat.


After what seemed like hours to Brett, the pep rally, with all its noise and distant merriment, finally drew to a close with Brett still trapped in Alka's shoe. He had tried to reach out to her on the wrist communicator in vain. Since she had sat down he'd sent her multiple messages with no response.
"Congrats Alka, sounds like you won the race! Can't be due to your foot helper, no that can't be... XD"
"Alka what time is it?"
"Hey Alka it's still super hot in here. Is the auditorium AC busted or something?"
"Mrs. P, message me back when you check your phone or shrink control."

Finally as she got to her feet and departed the auditorium for her car, she caught up with his message.
"Sorry Brett actually I don't check my phone very much. Thanks. I was a very good runner in college and I'm happy I can still do it. Yes, the AC is barely working in the auditorium, so we were all pretty hot too. Sorry but you'll have to stay in my shoe for now, I need to go home now and I'll finish with you later okay?"

Brett was chagrined. He felt the woman's sticky foot clinging to him as she walked, with the stale sweat still hanging in the air and burning his lungs. She seemed totally unconcerned with his welfare, despite the benign language she was using. Why was she taking him with her home? What was the point of all this? If she didn't enjoy it, and didn't want to actually do training or have fun with him, why was she doing this?

He thought about all these things as she got behind the wheel of her car and drove herself home. With th boy buried in her left shoe, Alka rested her foot on the dead pedal, which at least gave Brett the stability to hold himself up and rest.

---

After swinging open the front door, Brett heard Alka speaking to an adult male in Hindi. He presumed it was her husband. The dialog seemed strained and acrimonious. In the distance he heard one cheerful toddler and one crying one, both speaking mainly juvenile English with a smattering of Hindi.

He had been ignored during the car ride home, and now remained trapped in her shoe. She had driven home still dressed in her running gear and did not change when she got home, as it seemed she had two young kids to take care of, and an annoyed husband. The world continued to spin around as she juggled a variety of domestic tasks while verbally sparring with her husband who finally seemed to be getting into a better mood. Brett finally decided to venture to text her.
"Alka, when will you let me out? I must have been in your shoe for 2 hours now. Please let me get some fresh air."
There was a reaction from her husband. Evidently Alka was not in contact with her phone, and he reached it before her. More yelling that he didn't understand.
But Alka must have conveyed that the situation concerned an English speaker, as the man's deep voice switched to English. "Who is Brett? Why does he need to be let out? Where is he?"
"He's in my shoe Vijay! I was trying to tell you about the shrinking. He's a student volunteer."
"You gotta be kidding me Alka. Why would he volunteer? You didn't tell me you were going to hang out with one of your boy students after school."
"You're crazy!" Alka started. The conversation reverted back to Hindi, perhaps in the hopes that their little ones wouldn't understand the words.

Brett had only to wait and see how it would blow over. The minutes dragged by and they seemed to both calm down.
Finally in came a message on his wrist. "Brett I'm sorry. I had to come right home after the pep rally since my kids got out of day care and my husband is lazy and suspicious. He seems to think that I acquired you for shall we say selfish purposes while he watched the kids."
Brett had to chuckle. Was it unselfish of her to keep him trapped there? Did she think he wanted this? He texted back with sarcasm. "Oh that's crazy, it couldn't be further from a selfish thing. I mean, I bet you hate having me in here."
"You are right I didn't really like it Brett. However I thought you wanted it. Are you unhappy in there? Other teachers have told me you like feet, especially stinky feet, and they thought you'd be really happy with doing this with me. Lee-Reilly confirmed that. I didn't see how you could enjoy this, but I went along with what I was told.
No way, was she really that naive?
He dodged answering either way. "I don't really want to address all of that Alka. But can you let me out and let me eat something?"
"I am making dinner for my family, but your mom is on the way. While you are there in my shoe, you can eat my toe jam if you want. I definitely feel some after the racing today. I hope it meets your expectations."
Speechlessly, Brett realized she was serious, or at least her facade was impenetrable when surrounded by her husband and kids. The story she was sticking with was that this was entirely his fantasy, and he was simply being coy about it, even though for Brett it was brushing up against madness to considering ingesting the craggy mass of gummy, rubbery, foul-smelling grime between her toes and under her soles, comprised of globs of congealed sweat and skin cells and fluff. And through it all, he just couldn't read her tone and divine any trace of self-satisfaction or playfulness. She thought this was some kind of duty and had only the most cursory understanding of what his feelings might be.
"That's okay, I really couldn't Alka."
"Are you sure? Are you just you being shy? Really there is no need." came the incredulous response.
"I'm sorry that you seem to have the wrong impression of me, Alka. Totally wrong." Brett said, trying to walk all this back to reality.
The response came about a minute later, and was total capitulation. "OK Brett. If you say so. You don't have to do anything. Your mom will be here in fifteen minutes so let's get you resized and on your way, okay?"

Brett exhaled. He felt the now-famiiar sting of frustration that others were talking about him as though he were a full-time shrinkee desperate for power to be exerted over him by everyone. This was what his mom had warned him about, but at least this time it hadn't gone too far.

But relief gradually surged over him. Alka was nearly the last teacher! Brett smiled absent-mindedly as the math teacher pulled him out of her shoe and prepared him for unshrinking. Apart from his mom, Brett was at the end of the certification contract. If he could somehow bargain with Nancy to sign that she had the training, somehow persuade her to just let him off the hook, he'd be home free. He'd have to be more conciliatory and offer some kind of quid pro quo at home, but he was sure it could be done.