A month has passed since you first hired the maid who called herself “Becky” to come over to your house while you were shrunken down and let you spend time with her feet. You've hired her many times since then, and in return, she decided to give you permission to hire her even on her days off. Today you decided to take advantage of that offer and called her up to set an appointment.
When the scheduled time came, you shrank yourself near the entrance to your apartment and waited for her. Ten minutes passed and there was still no sign of her, so you sent her a message and soon got a response saying “oops. on my way.”
Another several minutes later, you finally hear her approach. The door then swings open and you see her on the other side. Curiously, today she's not in her maid outfit; instead she's wearing a yellow shirt, blue denim skirt, and a pair of white heels. “Sorry I'm late, I kinda forgot about this.” she says, her words slurred with drunkenness. She teeters inside and closes the door behind her before slipping off her heels, leaving her feet blessedly bare. You don't have time to gawk at them, however, as you're too busy worrying about whether or not she'll step on you. “Uh, where are you?” she asks, her eyes scanning the ground.
She walks further into the room, almost stepping on you as she does. “Hey! Are you in here, mister?” she asks. You start waving at her and eventually she turns around and sees you. “Oh, there you are. Hope you don't mind if I rest my legs,” she says as takes a seat on your couch. “No maid costume today. Sorry if you were looking forward to it. When you reminded me about our appointment I came over as fast as I could. Anyway, feel free to... do whatever it is you want to do with my feet.”After a short walk towards her you reach her toes and sidle up to them. They're nice and warm, with a muggy atmosphere clinging to them that drives you crazy. You place your hands on the surface of her big toe and begin to kiss it. You hear her giggle above you and she wiggles her toes in response, knocking you back. “Heh. Sorry, you tickled me,” she says.
She tilts her foot back on its heel and looks at you from between her toes. “You know, I really don't get why you're into this. Isn't it weird, liking feet? I thought most men preferred boobs and asses. Are you sure you wouldn't rather spend some time on my chest?” she asks as she gropes her breasts. You appreciate the offer, but you shake your head. “Well, okay. You're the one paying for this.” She lowers her foot back and her big toe ends up on top of you, pinning you under its weight. You eagerly allow its flesh to envelop you as you run your arms back and forth along its surface.
After a while, her foot shifts and you end up lying between two of her toes. The toes curl around you, gripping your tiny body between then, and then she stretches her leg in the air, bringing you up with it. “You know, I've been wondering. What's the smallest you can get? Can you go any smaller than this?” You nod. “Well, can you do it for me? I want to see just how tiny you can be.”You hesitate a moment. Yes, it's possible to go much smaller than this, but this is the smallest recommended size. Going any smaller is deemed too dangerous without some serious precautions. Your sense of caution holds you back, at first, but in the end the thrill from the thought of being even smaller compared to her wins you over. You nod again and she drops you back onto the floor, looking intently at you. You pull out your phone and open the shrinking app, then move the size slider all the way to the left and, ignoring the warning the pops up, tap on the “change size” button. It takes a couple seconds for the shrinking to start, but once it does it's over in the blink of an eye, leaving you disoriented as you try to get used to the radical change in your environment.
Now, as little more than a speck of dust on the floor, you look up at the giant woman sitting before you. Her toes stretch high into the sky, like a vast mountain chain. Though in reality only a couple inches separate you from them, to you that distance seems more like a mile.
“Wow,” she says, her voice falling on you like a peal of thunder. “You're so small I can't even see you from up here.” She gets off the couch and gets on her hands and knees. Her visage, framed by strands of hair so thick and long it feels like you could use them to climb up to heaven, looms overhead like the face of God gazing down at you.
Eventually she spots you and sets a finger down next to you. The impact as the the giant digit settles on the ground rattles your world and creates a gust of wind that almost blows you off your feet. You look up at her finger. Had it come down a fraction of an inch closer, you would have been crushed like a flea under its immense weight. Rather than making you afraid, the thought of it fills you with wonder and reverence.
Becky looks down at you with an expression of intense thought. Eventually, she raises the finger to her face and gives it a lick. She then lowers it back slowly, only this time it's coming down right onto you. You realize what she's trying to do: use the stickiness of her saliva to pick you up without having to try the risky procedure of grabbing you. You don't know if this is safe, especially with her drunk as she is, but right now you don't care. As you look up at the massive ceiling of flesh, glistening with spit above you, you are in total awe at the immensity of this woman. Let her try what she would; you are more than willing to forfeit your life to the whims of this goddess.
The finger touches upon the ground and you're suddenly awash an a dense, almost jelly-like substance. It seems you're so small that her spit doesn't feel like a liquid to you anymore. As the finger presses down, the spit carries you into one of the folds of her skin, protecting you from being crushed under her skin. Then she brings her finger up, moving you at terrifying speeds until you're beneath her gaze. Once she spots you, she lies down on the couch and swipes off her spit, and you along with it, on the tip of her big toe. You can't move until the spit dries up, at which point you're finally able to stand up.
Off in the distance you hear her yawn. She's probably going to fall asleep now, which gives you ample time to explore this marvelous new environment. You wander through winding valleys hedged by the ridges of her toeprint, not knowing or caring where you're headed. In your journey you see all sorts of things, like specks of dust the size of boulders and pores that hold enough sweat to fill a lake. You drink from one such pool to sate your thirst before continuing.
The experience feels almost like a religious awakening. Knowing that this woman is practically your entire world now—that you could live the rest of your life crawling on her skin and living off the resources from from her body like a dust mite—it fills you with awe and brings you to fall to your knees and begin kissing the ground you walk on to express your admiration for her. As you do so the ground moves beneath you—an errant twitch of her toe. Was that in response to your show of admiration? You like to think it was.
Eventually you hear her groaning off in the distance as she starts to wake up again. She begins to stir, then yawns and gets up off the couch. She takes a few steps and slips on her shoes, then leaves. Apparently she's completely forgotten about you. You consider growing yourself back just enough to make yourself felt and remind her that you're there, but... you really don't want to leave here yet. You've barely scratched the surface of a single toe—there are still four you haven't been to on this foot alone, not to mention the rest of her sole. There is still so much to explore, you think, and it would be a shame to have to leave so soon.