Adam set the three remaining maids down and slid his underwear and shorts back on. Looking over his prey, he drank in the fear they experienced looking up at the man who held their future in his hands. Like an owl pondering a den of baby mice in the night, he stared with eager, predatory eyes.
“Now let’s see. Which of you three should I mess with next? How about you, Bruce? You’ve never hesitated to mess with me!”
And with that, his fate was sealed. After everything he had seen, he broke down and started crying. Clint didn’t know Bruce too terribly well in the grand scheme of things. They hung around the same people, but they never really hung out or got to know each other without somebody like Dan or Harold soaking up the spotlight. But it was still strange and surreal to see him brought to such a state. He didn’t seem the type, though given the current circumstances, you could hardly blame him.
Bruce began to complain about the unfairness of everything he had been put through. That Adam should just suck it up and quit being a baby about all the harmless pranks they had pulled on him. Why did Adam have to take things this far? He was just being the same weak little nerd that couldn’t take what the jocks were dishing out. Adam’s smirk turned to a frown, then a grimace. He got so mad, heat practically emanated from every pore. Eventually, he snapped.
“See, this is why you fucking assholes need to be taught a lesson! Even after all this, how are you still this dense? How could you still not understand how fucked up the shit you pulled actually was? Well, that’s all about to change! I’m just going to make you walk a mile in my shoes, and I’ll walk a mile in yours. Hopefully by the end of this fun little excursion, we can understand each other’s perspectives better. I know I’m loving what I learned from this experience.”
Adam piled Hank and Clint into the tupperware again and walked over to Bruce’s locker. The door hadn’t been shut before Adam shrank the bullies. It occurred in not but an instant. Adam began to root through Bruce’s stuff until he found exactly what he was looking for. He pulled out a pair of worn, soggy, beat-up sneakers.
Bruce's foot sweat was pretty infamous around the school. You could usually smell Bruce coming before you saw him coming. It was especially bad right after a long day of physical activity. Adam had often been forced into the arrogant prick’s locker with his foul footwear. But today was different. Now he was the one in control.
Adam picked up the shoe’s owner by the collar of the maid outfit, dangling him over the mouth of the odorous sneakers. Bruce felt his eyes water from the smell. His funk was sometimes hard for even himself to stomach. And that was at his regular size. At his new diminutive height, he couldn’t even process the foul aroma wafting from his footwear. The fingers pinching his collar separated and he tumbled with a wet splat onto the shoe’s insole.
Adam slid his foot into the sneaker. Liquid oozed between his toes and covered every inch of his sole. Adam couldn’t tell if he had already squished the fluids out of Bruce’s miniscule body, or his weight had simply brought the sweat already permeating the insole up to the surface. Whether by bleeding out or drowning in his own sweat, the belligerent jock wouldn’t be long for the world.
The truth of the matter was that it was actually a combination of both, Bruce had initially tried to run to the toe of his malodorous mausoleum, but his leg got tangled in a loose thread and face planted into the sole. As his victim turned tormentor slid his toes over the shrunken man, the now pinned microscopic man instead tried to stay under the arch of the sole. But the ball of his foot landed squarely on his arm, instantly turning it to a red splotch on the bottom of Adam’s sock.
To make matters worse, the space beneath Adam’s arch filled up with Bruce’s stale sweat as the weight of his foot squeezed it out of the insole like a sponge under a rolling pin. Adam’s lungs filled with putrid, salty water. His eyelids slammed shut as the foul liquid burned his eyes. But all the energy left to muster to continue the fight had already been expended. He could only pray that the end of his torment would come soon.
No such luck for him though. Adam set the pedometer on his watch to zero. Once he’d walked a full mile in these sneakers, he’d let what was left of Bruce out, but there was little chance of him living to tell the tale. He licked his lips as he picked Hank and Clint’s prison back up and put his shirt back on.
Now that he was dressed once more, he decided to take his new shoes out for a test run. Only two of the remaining bullies had put on dresses and cooperated in his games, and so it was time for the rest to pay. Adam went around the locker room stomping each remaining revenge target one by one. Hank shut his eyes, while Clint watched in awe. There had been about 30 people in the locker room when the day began, and now each one disappeared underneath Adam as he stomped and trampled them for sport. The sheer power this titan held both stunned and spooked the broken maid. Clint could only stare as this mammoth giggled in mirth at the brutality he administered to the crowd until he was satisfied that the only two people left to be angry at were in the plastic prison.
Adam stuffed the two and their carrying case into his bag and made his way home, making sure to walk to his house in the sweltering sun. After all, he owed it to Bruce to get his punishment over with quickly, didn’t he?