Sophia rushed home from work with her package from Pedi-Cleanz Inc. It had finally arrived after weeks of agonizing waiting, oh my god. Sophia was approaching what you'd call 'middle aged' for a woman. She was 38, and although she had a boyfriend, she lived alone and had no kids. She liked it this way. But today the focus wouldn't be on her boyfriend or life, it would be on her feet. They were size 11s, so relatively huge, and very wide. Her long toes seemed to protrude in a perfect way, it would make foot fetishists drool, if she knew any (which she didn't, her boyfriend had no interest).
Sophia had ordered a package from Pedi-Cleanz a company that quite literally packages people from smaller races into a clear foot mould and mails it to you. You slip on the foot mould and they clean your feet. Once they are done, all you do is mail the foot mould back in the same packaging to return the people home. It had a built in command centre, and rations for up to a month. On the website you could customise what sized people you wanted cleaning your feet, it was amazing. However the long rations are only really for emergencies such as getting lost in the post. You were only meant to get a maximum of the days out of the moulds before you had to send them off. Oh well.
Sophia, being a Prodi, had selected Lillis to clean her massive pads. She wanted the best treatment. She quickly unboxed the corporate branded box, and it revealed a small camera and screen device next to the foot moulds. Sophia fumbled around for the instructions and began to read what it actually was.
She read the manual, learning about her new prize, still wearing her flats from work. It looked like the device was for broadcasting her face to all the workers cleaning her feet. They each seemed to have a little indent in the moulds that acted as their standing space, and would be pressed closely to a part of the foot when she put the moulds on so they could interact with the skin. This was so exciting.
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Light blazed into the containing box for the Pedi-Cleanz moulds, housing all the roughly 2000 employees spread across two feet. High above them they saw an enormous woman gazing, smiling, down onto them. Some of the newbies were mind blown, not ever having seen a Prodi before. This was standard old for some of the older employees though.
"Alright boys, everyone get ready because she looks like she's about to try on the moulds. Masks on!", a few of the men had ill-fitting masks, or unfortunately weren't issued the gas masks in time for postage. Too bad for them.
"Hey boys, I know you are expecting size 7 feet, but mine are size 11. Sorry, but the size 11s were so expensive and the material said it was elastic on the website anyway!", the Prodi remarked down, grinning as she said it. "Also I've been at work all day, so my feet my stink a bit, but whatever I paid a lot for you guys", Sophia remarked as she pulled her sweaty feet from her flats for the first time in like 9 hours. The instructions clearly said to let your feet air out first, Jesus woman.
The chief cleaner sighed, one of these people. He looked above at the woman using her device to scan through the various cameras to look at the thousands of men sitting in the moulds. They looked like indiscernible black dots to her with the naked eye, just barley visible but spread everywhere across the half see-through moulds.
"It's fine boys, I'll call HQ and they can come retrieve us on a falsified sale, I'll let this girl know now that she's getting refunded", the chief broadcaster to all his men's indented pockets in the mould. The chief pressed his call button to contact HQ. Something wasn't right. It wasn't dialing. Oh shit.
The chief quickly reached over to the contact button for the girls device, hoping to explain the situation, but it looked like there was no connectivity outside of the two moulds whatsoever.
"Here we go boys!", she told them as she began stretching the clear elastic almost to its limit in an effort to fit her gigantic feet into them. Sophia grunted as she just barely managed to pull the second mould over her other foot, finally fitting both onto her massive feet. The elastic automatically sealed around her feet and in between her toes, giving her free moment while the men were inside.
Equipment started to fail in the chiefs office. The moulds weren't built to stretch this far.
What the fuck? His office was squished and almost destroyed against the top of her foot. The chief looked through his camera to see what was happening to the men.
The cleaners who were normally supposed to have a lot of space were being pressed firmly against their will into this bitches gigantic meaty pads. Some men between her toes here crammed directly into her grime. As she idly flexed her feet, some of the workers were rolled deep into wrinkles, trapped in the folds of her feet. Thousands of men were screaming against this giant Prodi's soles as she giggled high above them, thinking everything was going as planned.
The pungent odor of her meaty soles filled the nostrils of the men who had broken masks or weren't wearing any, it was vinergaring and caused some men to cry as it assaulted their mouths and noses. It was actually so bad that it began fogging up the moulds with putrid food sweat.
"This is relaxing having all you little men pampering me. Oh and, take off those gas masks, you won't be needing those", she demanded as she smirked down at her feet, wriggling her toes as she unknowling tortured the men between them even further.
Some of the men could see her grinning in the distance. "Oh and you guys have rations for a month right? Cool, I'm gonna get good use out of you". The men crammed between her wrinkles and all over her foot were trapped in a nightmare.