Tom was once again in hell. Before he’d even realized what was happening, he’d been knocked down into Sarah’s dirty shoe and forced onto his back by her gargantuan foot. Before he’d had a chance to get his bearings, her voice had come loud and clear, ordering him to start licking the wrinkled skin surrounding him or face a far worse punishment. And as badly as Tom instinctively wanted to fight back, he knew there was nothing he could do from this position, and avoiding making things worse was the wisest move.

He stuck his tongue out and pressed it up against the hot, rough skin pressing down upon his body. The taste, an odd combination of salt and grime, was almost enough to make him gag, but he managed to keep his stomach in check and go back for another lick with his tongue. It was nearly as bad the second time, but he was ready for the shock this time, and each subsequent lap became a bit easier.

I can’t believe I’m doing this. I’m just lying down and taking everything this psycho does to me. She’s using me as her personal insole, complete with a built-in footbath, like I’m an inanimate object. Is she actually serious about getting guys to fuck her while she has me up inside of her? Jesus Christ, how the hell does this even happen to someone? I hope she crushes me while she’s stealing all my stuff today, I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of dying in front of her eyes.

He felt her foot and the shoe he was stuffed in lift off the ground as she went to take her first steps forward. The shoe slammed down, smashing him into the floor and completely encasing him in a warm, salty prison of tough foot-flesh. And then up, and down again. Over and over as she traipsed around her apartment like wasn’t even there. He heard the jingle of keys followed by a door unlocking and swinging open, and suddenly a voice crying out from far above him

“Who the fuck--”

THWACK!

Sarah’s words were cut off by an incredibly loud smacking sound, and Tom felt his shoe-prison lurch backwards unexpectedly.

“Who the fuck am I? Bitch, I’m the one who should be asking you that question,” came a second voice from further away, the words dripping with accusation. “Who the fuck are you? What kind of sick bitch does something so cruel to a person?”

The intruder’s voice was almost shaking with rage, but now that he’d heard a bit more, Tom was fairly certain he recognized it. Sarah’s feet steadied as she regained her balance.

“Oh I get it, you’re the slut he was fucking on the side, aren’t you? What, is this what happens when someone takes your sugar daddy away from you? Don’t think you’re gonna scare with me one surprise slap you cunt!”

“Ugh, as shitty as you treated him, he never cheated on you with me you jealous pyscho! And I can’t believe he managed that, seeing as how fucked up you must have been to him.”

“That’s it. You’re fucking dead.” As soon as the words left Sarah’s mouth, her feet charged forward, taking Tom with her. He had absolutely no way to tell what was going on above him, but he could hear a flurry of slaps, grunts, and screeches as what he could only assume was an epic struggle played out. After a minute or so, he heard the sound of a woman shouting and then a crash across the room. He had stayed put, so Sarah must have managed to best her attacker.

“That’s right, you think because I’m some high-powered exec like Tom that I’ll go down easy? Oh what’s that, going for your purse? Gonna try and smack me down with that now bitch?”

“You stupid whore. When I’m done with you, you’re gonna wish the only thing I did was beat the shit out of you.”

“What…what the fuck? Where did you get that?” Tom had no idea what was going on, but from the sudden tensing up of Sarah’s foot muscles he could tell she was on edge for some reason.”

“Oh you know, some ditzy bitch left it behind in my apartment the other night when she broke in looking for something that wasn’t hers. Don’t you just hate that? I figured I’d give it back though.”

Sarah’s feet started creeping backwards, dragging Tom along with them.

“No…get back! Stay the fuck away with me. Don’t take another step!” Sarah sputtered, her words thick with fear that Tom could pick up on even while trapped in her shoe.

There was an agonizingly long moment of silence, and then a bloodcurdling scream the likes of which he hadn’t heard since that scary movie he’d taken Sarah too when they were first dating. The scream cut out abruptly, however, and out of nowhere, Tom felt the tremendous pressure bearing down on his body begin to lessen.

What the hell is going on? Did she just get stabbed? Is she falling?

A few moments later, her foot slipped away from the shoe completely and light flooded in, blinding him momentarily. He covered his eyes with his hands and stumbled forward toward the edge of it. After his vision cleared a bit, he grabbed the top of the flat and pulled himself up, looking all around. Where the hell is Sarah? he asked himself, glancing around the kitchen. It’s like she was vaporized or someth—wait!

Over by the coat rack, a few feet from where the shoe he’d been trapped in now lay, a pile of Sarah’s clothes sat in a crumpled heap. No…no way…

Tom was sure he knew what that meant…but that couldn’t be. It just couldn’t. The only person who’d even have had any idea where to find him was…

Tom spun around so fast he nearly fell over, but sure enough, there she was. A tall, bronze, raven-haired Latin beauty, a small plastic bottle still clutched tight in her trembling hand, her face covered in a pearly-white grin a mile-wide.

“Hiya baby.”