From the sixth floor of the Shrink Correctional Association headquarters, it was easy to see the people traversing the street below as ants. Or perhaps more appropriately, shrinkees. Such a sight was likely even easier to achieve from the taller neighbouring buildings and skyscrapers. And yet, even when standing at the window, looking down on the passing population of Queenswall, there was another place in this building, inside this very room, where the director of the Association felt even more powerful.

Within her boots, a pair of well polished black combat boots, not a pair of the technologically advanced footwear owned by all shrink correctional officers, Patricia Locke flexed her hot and sweaty toes; effortlessly dominating the tiny woman imprisoned under the foot of the woman known as 'Iron-sole'. These boots had stayed with the director throughout her entire career, cladding her feet for over twenty years. They had been the boots she used back during her time as an interrogator for the government and served as the inspiration for the more technologically advanced shoes used by officers of the Association.

Knock knock.

Patricia turned away from the window and settled her steely gaze on the door to her office. She didn't grant her visitor immediate access. Slow and purposeful, she strode to her chair and sat down. With a light smile, the director practically felt herself become more powerful as she sat in her throne. The smile was only there for a moment, then it disappeared.

“Enter.”

Opening the door, the pretty face of the director's secretary came into view. There were few women in the employ of the Association that were more useful to the director than Cindy. She worked hard to ease the stresses and responsibilities faced by the director and despite not being an SCO herself, she had the tenacity of one.

“Excuse me, Director. Are you ready for your last two meetings of today?”

Today had been hectic to say the least. For most of the month of August, Patricia was leaving Queenswall to go and assist in the campaign of a presidential candidate. Candidate Deborah Reynolds had always been a strong supporter and advocate of the Shrink Correctional Association and if she were to become president, the Association's involvement in the country's justice system could only grow. Unfortunately, a near month long absence led to a few days of nothing but meetings before actually leaving. People had been in and out of the office, the floodgates being controlled by Cindy who was not afraid to deal with people more powerful than herself. With the support of the director behind her, Cindy could do just about anything and not face consequences.

“I am. Remind me what they are about.”

Cindy smiled. A sweet smile. Patricia didn't know what she found more attractive about her secretary, the natural good looks or the unexpectedly fearsome personality. “I have saved the best until last. The first is with Head-interrogator Ivanov. She wishes to speak to you about recent events.”

“I have a good idea of what recent events she is referring to. The other meeting?”

“It's an... interesting one to say the least. A student due to attend Hemlock Academy come September has been accused of crimes against the Association, with evidence, although the accusations are rather suspect. Thinking it might be a little more fun than the rest of today's meetings, I decided it would be better left to you to deal with; plus, Vice-director Marren is currently being entertained by a certain grumpy councillor.”

“Thank you for sparing me from that. I'll have to show the Vice-director my appreciation before I go home. Wait two minutes then send Head-interrogator Ivanov in.”

“As you wish, Director.” Cindy inclined her head respectfully then left.

Patricia sat patiently during the two minutes before Katya was let in. She and Katya were close, the foreign woman was someone that the director would trust with her life. Back when they had both been interrogators for opposing countries, they had been rivals. They competed to create the foulest odour possible with their feet to break prisoners. However when their jobs became obsolete, a notion that they both disagreed with, the two became friends. Ever since Patricia had extended an invitation to Katya to join the first generation of SCOs, Katya had lived in Queenswall.

The door opened much as it had done before, only instead of a petite young lady a tall, muscled SCO stepped inside the office. With fiery red hair pulled back into a strict ponytail, a muscled body and a quiet intensity, Katya Ivanov made quite the imposing woman. Just like with the director, wrinkles were appearing on her maturing face, although she hadn't yet gotten any grey hairs. The emblem and chevrons on Katya's arm mimicked that of the director, making them SCOs of equal rank even though they were in vastly different positions in the Association. Alongside the gold of the emblem and rank marking, a black armband with a white skull was worn on the right arm.

“Director.” Katya said, bowing her head. Despite not having lived in her native country for so long, she still had the thick accent.

“Please, Katya, call me Patricia.” The director stifled a sigh. She had tried to promote Katya, to have her friend act as second in command, however Katya was having none of it. The redhead was adamant that she wanted to remain as an interrogator. So Patricia gave her the highest position possible for an interrogator. As Head-interrogator, Katya was in charge of one of the two semi-secret sections that made up the underground floor of the Association headquarters. Semi-secret in the way that the public knew of the existence of these sections, but were unaware of the gory details.

Katya smirked. “As you wish, Patricia.”

“Thank you. I've had enough of bootlickers and sycophants today, I need something more informal. What is it that you want?”

“As Cindy probably informed you, it is regarding the arrest of Keith Barnaby.”

Patricia nodded. “She said 'recent events', but I could guess that it was regarding that slime. What about him?” Keith Barnaby was the leader of an anti-Association organisation. They rejected society's acceptance of shrinking punishments and while that in itself was not yet illegal, they had recently taken to assaulting SCOs and 'liberating' the shrinkees. Their actions were fruitless, all shrinkees had been recovered and soon enough any known perpetrators of assault would be facing the full extent of the justice system, putting them in the positions of those they tried to save.

A grin that would have been chilling to any shrinkee split Katya's face. “I want him. Send him to my sector for an extended stay like you did with Mr Locke.”

“I don't know what you're talking about. My husband went missing on a hang gliding trip, shortly after we divorced.” It was a lie that felt familiar on Patricia's tongue. “But, I'll see what I can do. He'll pass through the interrogation department regardless so you'll have some fun with him as you make him give up the information we need to bring down that damn organisation once and for all.”

“Ah yes. So you're not interested in an update on the man who looks exactly like your missing ex husband that we have down there?”

“I never said that. Show me.”

Katya whipped out her phone eagerly, pointing the director's attention to the currently inactive screen on the wall of the office. After connecting the phone the screen lit up and displayed an array of thumbnails, all for videos recorded in the underground facility beneath the building. The majority of people in society would find these videos sickening and if they were ever somehow leaked, the Association itself could be at risk. However for Patricia and Katya, these private videos often made for the perfect form of entertainment for a girls night in at the end of a particularly stressful week, complete with plenty of wine and liquor.

“Here we go.” Katya said as she found the video that she was searching for.

It opened up to a shot of dozens of pairs of black boots. They were unmistakably SCO boots, taken from the Association's store of spare boots. New shrink correctional officers always received a set of fresh boots, allowing them to imprint their own foot odour into them and create an item that was personal to them. Retired SCOs handed in their boots and they were put into storage, awaiting alternate uses. Sometimes for one reason or another an SCO would want a fresh pair of boots, further growing the amount of spares.

Over the openings of the spare pairs were rubber seals with plastic tubes emerging from the centre of each. The person behind the camera followed the many tubes, which came together into a neater bundle. It looked like the air flowing through these tubes had a green tinge to it, also true of the larger area beyond. The bundle of tubes ended at a sealed glass box. Patricia recognised it as a sealed environmental safe, something that saw use from time to time in the Association. She even had one herself, back at home. It wasn't something developed by the research and development department, it was actually developed by an air conditioning company and was available for public purchase, although it was hideously expensive. Judging by the condensation present on the walls of this safe, it was rather hot and humid in there. Realising that the humidity was likely syphoned from the SCO boots, the director felt an amused smirk come to her lips. 

Held up by four wires connected to the four upper corners of the transparent cube was a small man. He looked to be smaller than one inch, the current lower safety limit of shrink technology. The only part of his body that was exposed was his nose, the rest of his body was covered in a rather uncomfortable looking pink rubber suit. The rubber suit was damp with sweat, sweat that didn't belong to him. He jiggled around in a frenzied yet ultimately useless struggle.

“How small have you made him now?”

“Half an inch.” Katya answered with a proud smile. The research and development department that shared the underground floor of the Association were always happy to assist the interrogation department.

“Any successful attempts to increase his size?”

“None. He can only be made smaller. You'll be pleased to know that the boosted sense of smell doesn't stop at 1 inch. We haven't measured the reactions at this size yet but I reckon it's around 50 to 70 times stronger than at full size.”

“Good. He must be suffering immensely. Back before I caught him with that whore,” Patricia squeezed her toes around the tiny girl in her boot “he refused to go anywhere near my boots. Now it looks like he has to contend with many more. Do you mind explaining the set-up?”

“I'll happily go into detail.” Katya grinned sadistically. “We borrowed forty pairs of boots from storage. Those rubber seals ensures that the odour within won't leak out, except through the tube. All the tubes lead into the safe, which is kept at a stable 35° Celsius. The condensation you see comes from the boots, thanks to the heat the absorbed sweat becomes airborne and is sucked away alongside the stench. All the tubes move through a powerful vacuum filter which draws all the air towards it and into the safe. Over time, the air inside the safe is becoming more and more saturated with the pure foot odour of previous SCOs. It may appear that the rubber suit's sole purpose is to cut off everything but his nose to the air inside the safe, but that is not the case, The rubber suit's interior is coated with a terribly effective itching powder. I imagine that the situation is nightmarish for Mr Locke. Sorry, I mean our unknown, totally voluntary test subject.”

Patricia Locke grinned. A rare sight indeed. “Excellent. Raise the temperature by another 5° Celsius. Make it really stuffy.”

Katya nodded. “It shall be done.”

“Any ideas for what you'll do to Keith Barnaby? If you get your hands on him long term, that is.”

“Oh I have a lot of ideas. I plan on working closely with the R&D department for him, to see if we can come up with some creative punishments. Even short term I have a plan to break him, it'll be interesting to see how much foot odour he can withstand.”

“Good to know that you're well prepared. I think I'll need another tour of the underground floor when I return from my trip, It'll be stressful dealing with the political lunatics that are so eager to tear down Reynolds.”

“We'll be happy to have you. Do you feel like having a girls night when you return as well? It has been a while since we've done anything social together.”

“That'll have to be arranged, certainly. I need one. Would you oppose the idea of inviting Cindy along?”

Katya rolled her eyes. “I would not. I knew you were always into both sexes, but since your divorce you seem to have developed an exclusive interest in women.”

Patricia frowned. “Of course. My wretched husband managed to ruin men for me.”

“I'm not surprised. That cheating dog.” Katya seemed to be almost as angry as Patricia was regarding her ex husband. She refrained from spitting on the floor, something that was most appreciated.

“Is there anything else? I have another meeting to get through.”

Katya straightened, restoring a degree of formality to her composure. “That's it. I hope your last meeting goes smoothly.”

“If what Cindy said is anything to go by, it might actually be fun.”

“That's good to hear. Farewell, Director Locke. Have a nice trip.”

“Goodbye, Head-interrogator Ivanov. And thank you.”

Katya left, leaving the director alone once more. In a couple minutes, Cindy would send in the members of the final meeting. Just as expected, three women entered the room after Cindy opened the door for them. The first was a lanky, nervous looking girl with long, dark hair. She dressed mostly in black and had the body language of someone who thought they were in big trouble. The accused, Patricia guessed.

The next was a cocky looking blonde girl, several inches shorter than the first. She wore a purple tank top and black yoga pants, with pink flip flops on her pretty feet. She looked to be the same age as the first girl, either in late teens or very early twenties. The accuser, most definitely. The woman following behind these two was an SCO, their guardian whilst in the Association headquarters.

Patricia looked at the SCO. “Explain the situation to me. Why are these young ladies in my office?”

“Certainly, Director. These girls are Stacey and Penelope.” The SCO gestured to the blonde girl then the dark haired as she spoke their names. “The former is the accuser and the latter is the accused. What Penelope is accused of is not a crime but given her standing as upcoming student at Hemlock Academy it is considered severely inappropriate. These girls were close friends, however Stacey found something in Penelope's possession that she thought the Association had to be told about and thus told an SCO. After searching Penelope's bag it was found the she was in possession of a lot of anti-Association propaganda.”

“Hmm.” The director regarded both of the girls. “Tell me about your friendship with Penelope, Stacey.”

The blonde girl smiled. “Gladly.” She flicked a gathering of hair over her shoulder. “Me and Pen have been friends since high school. Inseparable, some would call us. And there's no one dearer to me than she is. Because she is going to be a student at Hemlock and train to be an SCO, I knew that it would be better for her if the Association found out about her transgression sooner rather than later. Pen won't speak to me any more, she's mad at me, but I truly was looking out for her.”

It was obvious to Patricia that this girl was lying out of her ass. From the first moment they had sat down it was clear that Penelope wasn't comfortable being around this girl; that wasn't something achieved after a recent betrayal. Anger the director would have believed, but this? These two had never been friends.

“Do you have anything to say about this, Penelope?”

Penelope had been fidgeting with her hands the entire time and almost looked surprised when realising that the director had asked her a question. “I-I do, Director Locke. Stacey and I... s-she's never been my friend. She used to pick on me in high school, call me names and do anything she could to embarrass me.”

“LIAR!” Stacey yelled. “How could you say that? Did our friendship mean so little to you?”

“Young lady.” Patricia's words came with an enraged undertone, bringing Stacey instantly to heel. “Raise your voice in my office one more time and I'll see to it that you regret it. Is that clear?”

Stacey looked at the ground. “Yes.”

“Yes what?”

“Yes... Director.”

“Good.” Patricia couldn't help but notice a smile on Penelope's lips after the brief exchange. “Stacey, tell me what led you to find what you did.”

“Of course.” Pausing, Stacey remembered her manners. “I mean, of course, Director. I went over to Pen's house because I hadn't seen her in a while and missed spending time with my bestie. I knew where she kept the spare key because that's how close we are, she told me where it was. Upon entering Pen's house and going up to her bedroom to wait for her, I found something strange looking poking out from under the bed. Pulling it out completely I was horrified to find a box full of propaganda condemning the actions of the Association. I knew right away that having this would affect her later in her career as an SCO so I brought it to the attention of the relevant authority. Pen came home to find me and the SCO I told about it waiting and the SCO took us straight here.”

“Penelope, do you have any defence against these accusations?”

“I do, Director Locke.” Penelope gulped, forcing herself to look the director in the eyes despite fearing the woman and the possibility that her acceptance to Hemlock might be revoked. “Stacey is lying. I do not know where those posters and books came from but they weren't there when I left for work, I swear. I believe that what the Shrink Correctional Association is doing for society is a good thing, which is why I wanted to become a shrink correctional officer. I would never betray the Association.”

Taking a few moments to think, Patricia came across a solution. Anyone could see that Penelope was being set-up, yet at the same time the director saw an opportunity. She looked the the SCO. “Please, escort Stacey outside for a few minutes. I wish to speak to Penelope in private.”

Stacey looked like she was going to argue, but gave in to her sensible side and followed the SCO out of the room. Now alone with the meek girl who was going to attend Hemlock, Patricia gave Penelope her full attention. “I believe you, Penelope. I have met many a girl like Stacey, a spoiled bully.”

Penelope's eyes lit up. She almost looked like she would fall on the floor and bow. “Thank you Director Locke! I promise you, I'll give everything to my education at Hemlock. You won't regr--”

“Enough.” Penelope shut up. “I have... issues with your upcoming attendance at Hemlock Academy. Tell me, what are you willing to give in order to become an SCO?”

Penelope hesitated before answering. “Like I s-said, I'll give everything. I would do anything.”

“Even if I decide to punish you for what Stacey has accused you of, even though you didn't do it?”

Penelope was shaking. “Yes, Director. Even then.” Clenching her fists, Penelope forced herself to ask a question despite her fear. “B-b-but... why?”

“To toughen you up. As you are right now, I'm not sure that you are fit to attend Hemlock Academy. You are too weak. Stacey dominates you utterly and she doesn't even need to threaten you with violence. At this rate, it would be a waste of resources sending you to Hemlock Academy, you would never make it.”

Tears were welling in Penelope's eyes. “However, if you accept whatever punishment I deem necessary to toughen you, I will allow you to attend Hemlock Academy unconditionally next year. Do you accept? Or was that determination to stand among the ranks of the shrink correctional officers all for show?”

After she had wiped away tears, Patricia saw a new intensity in Penelope. “I accept. Whatever you want me to endure, I will.”

“Very good. I shall bring the others back in now, and inform you and them of your punishment.”

Using a buzzer, the director signalled for her secretary to tell the two women outside to return. In moments everyone was back in their original places.

“Penelope, I have decided that you are guilty of what you have been accused of. However, I see promise in you. Promise, and determination. Not only do you currently lack faith in the Association as evidenced by your possession of propaganda, but also strength as evidenced by how you act. I intend to change that. Or at least, attempt to.”

“You have committed no real crime, so you will not be placed under the care of an SCO.” Penelope visibly relaxed upon hearing this. She had been expecting the worst. “Instead, you will be shrunken down and left in the care of your good friend, Stacey.”

Stacey yelped with joy, turning to stare at Penelope with a newfound feeling of possession over another human being. Penelope's face had sunken and she tried to plead with the director. “Director Locke, plea--”

“I am not finished.” Patricia interrupted. “Stacey will only look after you, she only be in charge of overseeing you during your punishment. She is expected to keep you fed and watered. Your true punishment is that for one whole year, you shall be confined to one of the many spare SCO boots that we have. Stacey is not allowed to remove you from the boot at all. Not even for a second. The heater in the boot shall be turned on and before you are shrunken and placed inside, we will give you the Pesfetorus virus. Be proud, you shall be the first student-in-waiting to receive it.”

“B-b-b-b-b-but...” Penelope spluttered, griping the chair she was sat on so tightly that her knuckles were becoming as ghostly white as her terrified face. The relevance of the being given the smelly feet virus was not lost on her. Her feet would sweat and stink like an SCO's would and being imprisoned in such a high temperature environment would only boost the effects. Without the odour resistance treatment, she would have to deal with the powerful stench of her own feet as well as the titanic smell of the SCO boot.

“You're gonna be all mine, Pen. Like a little pet living in a stinky boot.” Stacey giggled, wiggling her cute toes against the soles of the foamy pink flip flops.

“No buts, this is what you wanted. You want to be an SCO? Learn from this. The next year will either make you or break you Penelope. I hope it is the former.” Patricia turned her gaze from the trembling wreck to the giggly victor of this meeting. “Do you have any questions?”

“Yes. Can I really not remove her at all? Not only will I not be able to play with her, my pet, but how am I supposed to feed her?” Stacey let the slightest amount of annoyance seep into her expression. She looked forward to essentially owning Penelope for a year, but didn't like the idea of not being able to toy with her new pet. Patricia was about to change that.

“I said that you weren't allowed to remove Penelope. I never said that you couldn't put things inside the boot. Food. Water.” The director paused, treating Stacey to a flash of a smirk. “A foot.”

Slowly, Stacey understood. A smile crept onto her face. “This next year is shaping up to be a fun one. After a day of work, my feet can get quite rank.” She looked at Penelope and winked. “As you'll soon find out.”

“I hope that this isn't something that I need to tell you, but you must keep Penelope's punishment quiet. You cannot tell your friends. Anyone you share a residence with shall be informed and sworn to silence, and Penelope's parents shall also be informed. This is the business of the Association and only that. If this gets out, Penelope will be forgiven and I'll do everything in my power to ensure you end up under her feet instead. Do you understand?”

The fire inside Stacey dimmed a little and she had the sense to show submission to the director by bowing her head. “I understand. No one will know but me.”

“Good. You are all dismissed. I wish you the best, Penelope. I expect to see a new woman next year, an unbreakable young woman who will make an excellent shrink correctional officer.”

The three women left the office, each in a vastly different mood. Penelope was quiet and fear-stricken. Stacey was giggling, walking behind Penelope and poking her in the back repeatedly. Cindy entered soon after. The curious expression on her face revealed the reason why she had come into the office so soon after the meeting was over. Patricia provided her with a thorough explanation.

“You are so mean! She didn't do anything wrong!” Cindy admonished her boss over the decision.

“Mean, but necessary. Penelope wanted to become an SCO. But she was weak, this was the only way for her to possibly achieve that goal.”

Cindy raised an eyebrow. “The only way, really?”

“Hmm. Maybe not the only way, but it might work.”

“You can't fool me, Director. I know you try and keep your sadistic side hidden unlike Head-interrogator Ivanov, but I see right through you.”

Patricia cocked her head at Cindy. “You've certainly got some nerve. I've had a long day, now you're psycho-analysing me?”

Cindy blushed and fluttered her eyelids. “I do apologise, Director. But I've seen how you look at me.” Her expression became far more mischievous. “I know I'll get away with it.”

Patricia scoffed with amusement. “I haven't exactly been subtle, I'll give you that. But subtly isn't my style. And you're wrong about getting away with it. In fact, your punishment is to give me a nice, long shoulder rub.”

“B-but I've never given a shoulder rub before!” Cindy's blush deepened and she backed away slightly, not expecting the stern director of the Association to be so forward.

“Better learn quickly.” Patricia said with a smile. “If you give a bad one, you're demoted to foot rubbing duty. You don't want that, do you?”

Cindy shuddered and practically ran around the desk to start massaging the director's shoulders. They both knew that Patricia was joking with her threat, but they both enjoyed the teasing. Patricia liked giving it, Cindy liked taking it.

Despite apparently never having given one before, Cindy's delicate fingers proved to be naturally skilled at tending to the sore muscles in the director's shoulders. Patricia enjoyed it so much that she almost felt like asking, no, commanding Cindy to use those fingers elsewhere. But Patricia held back, knowing that it would be inappropriate. Teasing was one thing, that might cross the line. Instead, she held onto those feelings of arousal long after she had said her goodbyes to Cindy and driven home. She entered her luxury apartment, devoid of any furniture or decoration other than what the director deemed necessary, and collapsed onto the grey couch. She lay there for a while, sleep held at bay by the embers of the fire that had been lit in her crotch earlier. Was it Cindy's attentive fingers? Was it the cruel punishment dealt to poor Penelope? Or was it the stinky hell her cheating ex husband was being put through? Patricia wasn't sure exactly, but knew that each was a contributing factor.

Taking things to the bedroom, Patricia stripped out of her uniform, leaving her lean, toned and somewhat wrinkled body naked other than the boots on her feet. She sat on the bed, next to the sealed environmental safe located next to the bed, where she kept her boots overnight. Before beginning the nightly ritual with the shrinkee in her boot, she removed two pairs of underwear from the topmost drawer of the bedside cabinet.

Removing the boots one at a time, unlacing and freeing her foot that didn't have a tiny under it first, Patricia tipped the second boot upside down and let the shrunken woman inside drop to the floor with a thud. She curled up on the floor in a fetus position, her mind and body broken by perpetual crushing and heavy sensory torment.

“On your knees.”

The tiny girl obeyed, albeit slowly. Even now she flinched when Patricia plopped her veiny, incredibly stinky feet on either side of her, flexing the already wrinkly soles and letting the powerful odour spread throughout the room in a matter of seconds.

“Eyes on me, homewrecker.”

The shrinkee raised her head, looking at her master and tormentor with stinging, tear brimming eyes.

A cruel smile came onto the director's lips as she held up the two pairs of underwear. One was black, the other was red. Each was marked with the emblem of the Association. Both women knew what purpose each served. “Tonight, you're going to be strapped into one of these. I know that you'd prefer the red one, I'd prefer you in the red one. After today, I want you to spend the whole night pressed against my sopping pussy. It's a lot better than the alternative, as you already know from experience. But, whilst it wouldn't be quite as pleasant for me, it would be enough. So, I have decided to choose based on how much effort you put into cleaning my feet.”

Patricia cocked her head. “They've been stewing in my old boots just like always. Nice and delicious for my tiny foot slave. Impress me here by lapping up my sweat and inhaling my stink with nothing short of fanaticism, you little whore, and I'll me merciful. You can stay in the crimson thong. But disappoint me even a little...” The director jiggled the black thong menacingly. “I've been sat down all day on my ass, in my comfortable leather chair.”

The shrinkee started sobbing, overwhelmed with misery. Patricia Locke didn't feel a thing. Not a shred of sympathy, not for this woman. There was only one person she hated more than this, and he was suffering a fate that was even worse. In her opinion, they deserved it.

“Enough crying, you pitiful creature. You may begin.” Patricia gave the command and despite herself, the miniscule woman crawled over to the massive wall of wrinkled, reeking foot flesh and made the first lick, burying her tongue inside a particularly deep wrinkle and swabbing the pink organ up through the sweaty crease. The first unpleasant lick of many.