I don't know how long I'd been in the shoe at this point. It felt like hours already, Dianne had started her service as a flight attendant and they had already done the pre flight safety display before moving to the back of the plane to prepare for take off.

It was impossible to keep track of time. It had felt like hours but I logically knew it couldn't have been more than 15 minutes based on my own travel experiences. We weren't even off the ground yet. Even in this brief period I could see bits of dirt forming in the gap between her toes as we bounced about. Occasionally we would stop and Dianne would position her foot awkwardly, tossing me about as a liquid pool of sweat would come pouring over me, dragging dirt and dead skin onto me and the rest of her toes, getting caught in the gap between her big and second toe.

I wasn't going to clean anything. There wasn't any point. Even if I attempted to clean, the only thing I'd be able to do is lick up the muck between her big and second toe, and I was too small and Dianne's foot and shoe was too big and dirty that in the next 5 minutes it would be just as dirty again. I don't think licking up sweat and dirt and dead skin from the gap between this woman's toes would improve my health either – and I didn't want to be sick for this 16 hour flight, especially while trapped in her pump.

Why was I in her pump? She could have easily taken me out and placed me in her pocket. I guess there could still be cameras on the planes to make sure people haven't smuggled tinies on board – but in the bathroom?

Perhaps there was just more observation on her than I could know. Sarah really did seem to want her out of the bathroom and she was only in there for a minute or two.

The thoughts made me temporarily forget about where I was.

BOOM

Dianne putting her foot down after her next step caused reality to slam back into me.

I closed my eyes again. I began to fade in and out.

BOOM

I came to and realized that I must have fallen unconscious. At first I was disoriented and didn't realize it, thinking I only closed my eyes for a second. But then I noticed two things. To my right the gap between her toes now had a considerable amount of black gunk between it – and it was a significant amount as I could see enough fresh perspiration running down her foot for it to occasional drag one of these pieces of black gunk onto my face. In an attempt to remove it I would shake my head – this mostly worked but I could tell there were some stringy pieces of it clinging to my face still.

The other thing I noticed was the sweat. It felt like the warm salty water was completely surrounding me. I could see it glistening on her toes and freely exchanging with my flesh and the bottom of her shoe. And the sweaty pool I was lying in was noticeably a few centimeters higher. With my hands lying on the sole of her pump I could feel the salty warm water easily covering the tops of my fingers, and I could feel the dirt and materials from the pump sloshing in it, occasionally bumping into me or getting caught between my fingers.

Was I now telling time from the gunk accumulating in the gaps of her toes? So I'd been unconscious for a partial toe jam period of time. Or a few inches (my perspective) worth of sweat. My reality was really starting to revolve around Dianne's foot – telling time based on toe jam was a reality I never thought possible. I began to laugh deliriously.

BOOM

When her foot came down it caused a reaction in the environment around me, throwing the sweat up into the air and splashing down on top of me, running down the sides of her toes and onto my face and the rest of my body. The dirt and foot gunk was forming a layer of black muck between my skin and her toes and her nylon.

BOOM

“Tea or coffee” I heard Dianne saying from above. I guess we had taken off already and were already in the service portion of the flight. Those women out there breathing fresh and and relaxing, enjoying possibly a book and a beverage. Where as men like me were lucky if they were stuck in the bottom of a pump swamp just struggling to not drown in a woman's foot sweat.

My own knowledge of history made me wonder if this was the worst thing that had ever happened to a human being. Probably not. It didn't make me feel better. But all of the wisdom I learned growing up – the golden rule, to judge people individually, that merit was more important than intrinsic immutable characteristics like gender or height or race – I began to question all of these things.

The world around me had changed so quickly that I didn't realize what was happening until it was too late. Woman had decided that they were better than men simply due to their gender – holding men responsible for the actions of others that they had no control over – selectively picking the bad things men had done as a reason to make them second class citizens and ignoring all the good.

And once woman had that power the slippery slope was gone. Men rapidly became dehumanized until now them being considered slaves was about the top position they could get. Some women treated them like pets – but most treated them like pests. Or inanimate objects just meant to be used and disposed of when they got boring or broken.

And looking at the position I was in now, I started to find myself agreeing. The muck from her shoe and toes was congealing around me- the splashing sweat throwing more dead skin onto me – and I was struggling to keep my nose and mouth clear to prevent myself from suffocating. My eyes burnt from the salt even though I was holding them shut.

What am I? I could feel the gunk and the hot wet sauna of heat from her toes. Her toes flesh would press into me occasionally, pressing her toe gunk into the gaps between my legs and arms, and occasionally shoving them into my ears and eyes and mouth.

I was becoming her toe jam. The thought terrified me. In a few more hours if she checked on me and I hadn't drowned in her sweat, would she be horrified to what she found? A clump of black foot gunk stuck under toes? Would she even realize it was me or just scoop me out and toss me in the garbage before wondering where I went?

I began to cry again. Dianne's big and second toe glistened behind and in front of my face, the liquid pouring off into my eyes and preventing any distinct tears from forming. It seemed that all of the liquid on my face was just from her sweat.

The sweat level had continued to rise. It was well over the top of my hand now. Does Dianne always sweat this much? Does she notice this pool in her shoe? Thinking about it, probably not. It might feel damp from within her shoe but to her this would amount to less than a millimeter of liquid. Combined with the fact that her foot is already covered in sweat she probably wouldn't notice the liquid forming at the bottom of her shoe.

But the tiny man who was stuck under their would. The tiny man who was slowly congealing to her toes from her own dead detritus and sweat – who was spending every moment just struggling to not have the muck shoved down his throat and suffocating him.

Dianne lifted her toes and accumulated debris acted as a coagulant and pulled me up with them.

Oh god. I thought. I am her toe jam.