Darren had his whims. They changed day to day, sometimes — more often than that. Normal, isn’t it? And it’s nice to contrast things against each other. You only truly know something when you compare it to the alternatives. 

So it was with the shrunken girls. Sometimes he liked to entertain himself with “fresh” ones, those who hadn’t yet adapted or understood their new reality, and thus had a lot of fighting spirit in them. Like, for example, a week ago he was told about a woman named Maria, who used to be some sort of a big shot business analyst. She’d shrunk only days before their paths crossed; they had a mutual acquaintance. Darren managed to get a foot in the door, and, soon after, he had his foot grinding the feisty tiny Latina into the carpet of her own old apartment. Hands and legs flailing, insults streaming out of her mouth, makeup smeared across the tiny face... some of it, no doubt, making it onto his sole, but it wasn't like he ever checked. It took him quite a bit of time to get her to break and step over her pride; but in the end she sent her friends and relatives a few emails about a wonderful new acquiantance that she's made, and how she had to step away from things for some time... Since then, they had a bit of a back and forth: sometimes she would rediscover the strength to fight and sometimes she would break again. It was like every morning she'd wake up with a newfound determination to free herself. Fun! For the last few days, though, he had been conditioning her inside a very well worn gym sock. He felt like she should stew for a bit longer. That'll soften her up and maybe he'll finally get her tongue out and about his toes.

And then there were the shrinkees who were seemingly just waiting to fall at someone's feet. Like the Movie Theater Girl that just met her unfortunate end beneath him. Honestly, she only had herself to blame. That's what being a drooling little creep gets you. Not that it was terribly unusual; sometimes shrinking did something to their dumb little heads and they would just fall head over heels when around a normal-sized human being. Pathetic, but so, so enjoyable to see them squirming, all flustered, as they are torn between shame and desire. It was an empowering feeling, though - to see a fair little woman brought so low, be so conflicted over a carnal, but humiliating desire. And then - it was such a rush to just break it all along with the thing's bones.

But this kind was probably the rarest of all. Those who either were closeted freaks, or were quickly well trained by people around them. Those who simply went with it. Those who didn't spare their backs as they happily leaned in their owners' soles and gave it their all. Part of it, probably, was a way of appeasing their masters; Darren suspected that primal hierarchies would arise in groups of shrinkees, and one way to become the alpha was probably to earn the most benevolence from the giant. He supposed it's a decent strategy. 

And one in this trio was certainly employing it. He felt careful, but forceful touches as her hands pressed into his flesh. He felt long, hearty, wide licks, and he could easily imagine her wide-open mouth dragging across the dusty expanse of his sole. He could sense her body pressing into his sole: sometimes her tits, sometimes her knees. 

He focused on those sensations, relished them -- and then moved his feet to the sides to get another look at the three girls. It was the redhead. The other two were slacking. All three looked up at him with equally scared expressions. The redhead's eyes had a frantic shininess to them. 

Darren leaned in and picked up the pale redhead by her shoulders. He dangled her in front of his mouth. 

“Name”, he said. 

Her voice was like a faint, distant whimper. 

“Irene! Rinkler!..” 

He dropped her back on the table, and she immediately got to her knees again. Irene Rinkler, he mused. He leaned back and once again presented his soles to the shrunken girls, already craving for more worship. But… 

“Get your friend to give you a boost, Irene”, he said. “I want you to reach higher.”

And, while the girls sorted it out, he pulled out his phone and went on Facebook to look up Irene Rinkler. It didn’t take long. She was, apparently, an artsy type. A typical leftie bleeding heart with an unfinished degree from a local private college. She also had an Instagram full of selfies with fancy makeup. She liked sushi. She didn't have a boyfriend. She was learning German, but wasn't yet speaking it... 

He heard a bit of scuffle down there at his feet and gave them another look. The tan brunette was still at his heel, lazily dragging her tongue across the flesh; he was still disappointed with how much tongue he was actually feeling, but haven't yet decided if he wanted to teach her. Irene and Lisa were fighting. Irene, despite being considerably shorter, looked to be more composed: arms crossed over breasts. Lisa seemed to be screaming at her. He even overheard part of it: 

"...bitch if you think I am going to go down there..."

With a wicked smile, Darren lifted his foot a bit, arched it and brought it down against Lisa's back and head, knocking her down. She seemed to crumple, not fall; her enraged tirade transitioned into a high-pitched, terrified shriek. It didn't escape Darren that a triumphant look crossed Lisa's face. Huh! He could have some fun with that one. 

"You're making me wait", he told them calmly, flexing his toes over Lisa's body. She stirred. "If you make me wait, Lisa, you'll have to go clean my insole from the piece of trash I dropped in there early. She's mashed up real good, I think". 

The tan brunette paused her licking, and he nudged that heel a bit forward to remind her she had a job. He felt omnipotent with the shrinkees; he felt like to them, he was omnipresent, unescapable. 

"So". He flicked his fingers and flexed his sole over Lisa; once again, he couldn't see the two women, but he could easily imagine them staring at his reddened, glistening, meaty flesh. "Get to it, Irene."

***

Down there, on the table, in the shadow of Darren's sole, Lisa tried to get up - but, as she was still gathering her breath, Irene's foot connected with her ribs, and she collapsed back down. Her ears rang after the smack that Darren gave her. Clenching her teeth, she looked at Irene with all the hate she could muster. The white girl's face was blank. 

"We have to", Irene said. There was an insane tremble in her voice; it almost sounded like every phrase was a question. "On your knees?! Faster?! I'll fucking kill you if you fuck this up Lisa I swear..."

Lisa spat. The hate she felt towards the redhead was palpable. The air was electrified with emotion and dense with the sweaty odor of Darren's foot, that still lorded over them like some ominous, tyrannical monument. Lisa hated how familiar this sight has become to her over the last few days. She hated everything and everyone, really. The fellow damsels in distress were pathetic. Irene was crazy. Gabriela was weak. She couldn't rely on them for anything, she'd always known that. 

This, though - this was new. She could tell what Irene was gunning for here. The redhead thought she could score some points with Darren by being all schizo submissive. And Darren -- oh, he was gonna play this one like a fiddle, assuming he cared enough to pay any attention to her for more than a few more minutes. 

Still. It hurt. It was one thing to debase oneself before a giant man because otherwise he'll stomnp you flat or force you to clean up gore left from stomping someone else. It's another thing to accept a fucking *hierarchy* underfoot, to let him wrap them around his finger like that...

Irene stomped her foot. 

"Now!!!" she wheezed, her shiny eyes dancing between Lisa's face and the looming sole. "All fours! I need your back!?"

Lisa got on her knees, then went to all fours. Irene, with a breath of relief, almost jumped onto her back, and Lisa moaned in pain. The girl was heavier than she looked. Above her, Irene leaned into the moist sole, far higher than either of them could have reached just standing on the table. Squelching, sloppy sounds reached Lisa's ears; she listened to the redhead feverishly worship the man's foot, her tongue lapping up the sweat in a dog-like fashion. Her little round heels dug deep into Lisa's back, her toes pinched Lisa's skin, and she kept moving around, as if trying to torment the black girl. Lisa felt tears come to her eyes, but she held them back, focusing on her anger and on how much she wanted to strangle this insane bitch - and Darren, and Robert... oh, if only she could ever get to them again...