Olivia grew nearer to the leather wall. The nerves she had suppressed around Trish now electrified her. She could see a blurry image of herself reflected against the black leather. She was miniscule. The same as ever, just so much… less. She placed a tiny hand against the warm surface and felt her mind race. It was like her brain was trying to place her anywhere but here. To shield her from the reality that her body was about to be repurposed into a foot cushion. And she had volunteered. She understood why she did, just as she understood why Trish didn’t. But now she’s here… Olivia felt the shadow of the man’s heel all around her. She didn't want to look up. She couldn’t look back. If Trish saw her now… she'd break. 
So, she shut her eyes and jumped upward, her hands just reaching the opening of the shoe. The leather was slightly slick, but with some difficulty, Olivia braced against the back of the wingtip and hoisted herself upward. The little musculature she possessed lifted her far enough that she could rest her upper body on the lip of the shoe. With her shoulders over the side, she had unwittingly plunged her face into the warmth that steamed up from the darkness below. 
The heavy musk instantly snuffed out any competing thoughts, filling her headspace along with her lungs. Olivia was surprised, even a bit relieved, to find she didn’t hate the smell. Still, the air itself was hot, and uncomfortably humid. She had worked up enough confidence to open her eyes. 
“H-Hah! O-Oh, wow…” Olivia’s field of view was dominated by one thing: the wide expanse of Bill’s arch. A black dress sock clung tightly to the skin, giving the little intern a vague impression of the foot’s slopes and creases. A slight sheen of sweat reflected the lowlight deeper inside the shoe, where the ball of his foot came to rest against the floor. She could hardly comprehend it. Such a dizzying sight, and she only saw a fraction of the man’s foot. It made her feel like a fucking speck. 
And then she realized… it was waiting for her. The only thing keeping his towering sole on display was her own hesitation. The thought brought butterflies to her stomach. 
Quickly kicking off her own, Olivia tumbles face-first into Bill’s shoe. 
“-Mmph!” She landed face-down on the smooth, slick insole and, for a moment, she just laid there. She felt the oily floor against her skin and clothes. The scent was suffocating now, and she could feel the heat all around her. The butterflies weren’t going away. With every breath of that heady odor, they were getting worse, settling strangely with the contents of the pastel blue shake. Her heart rate was increasing the longer she laid there. She was completely surrounded by darkness and leather, ground level with his foot. It rested in front of her like a monument. Only deeper inside, and she’d be able to touch it. But she couldn’t even stand. She was paralyzed in the center of a smooth, featureless basin. Her head was spinning. Her curious eyes moved slowly upward, traveling across each curve and wrinkle of his arch. Then she saw it. Bill’s weighty heel, round and immense, held high overhead. From her perspective, the sheer mass and volume seemed incomprehensible. 
Suddenly, a terrible thought began to wreak havoc on the shrunken office worker’s mind. That heel will fill the entirety of this space. Olivia raced to her feet, looking around at the shallow bowl where she stood with bewildering clarity. This is where his heel comes to rest. All that unforgiving weight, pressing down on her frail little body. She’d be crushed instantly. Panic overtook her, and she ran. 
With nowhere else to go, Olivia paradoxically darted deeper into the shoe, straight toward the foot itself. She stopped before crashing into it. Clutching her fingers, she racked her mind, trying to keep herself calm. “Wait, wait! P-Please!” It took a great deal of willpower to do what she did next…

 Women get crushed all the time. It’s been long since such events were newsworthy. And despite the pleas of tiny rights activists and other political reformists, the responsibility of not ending up a red smear underfoot largely fell on the shrunken women themselves. 
“Stay in well-marked zones.” 
“Don't walk out in the open.” 
“Keep a normal-sized person you trust nearby.” 
Such advice was well known, even among women who’d still retained their size. Just in case. And then there’s one fact that was difficult to forget… 
“In the unfortunate event that you do find yourself underfoot, your best chance of survival is beneath the arch.” 
Many men have rather tough, unforgiving soles. Ending up under the heel or ball of a man’s foot is a death sentence at certain sizes. Some women have survived being stepped on by sliding themselves between the toes, or underneath. But that presented its own dangers. The arch, however, is usually the softest part of a man’s foot. It had just enough give that a small enough woman might not completely crunch under the pressure. At that moment, this lesson dominated Olivia’s conscious thought… 

She fell to her knees, and scrambled forward. She had to get to the arch section of the footwear, where the ball of Bill’s foot currently rested. “Please, please, please move–” She begged under her breath as her hands pressed upward against his foot. She was practically throwing herself underneath it, wedging her face down where the sock met the insole. Remembering that he wanted her “face up,” she even twisted herself around, and began shimmying on her back.
 As if responding to her touch, the tremendous mass above her head slid and shuffled. A cacophony of rushing air and sliding fabric shook Olivia’s eardrums, as the foot moved forward. Olivia followed just behind it, pushing with her legs. “Y-Yes! YES!” She cried in delirious triumph, as she was finally allowed to exit the heel section and enter relative safety. She felt the soft cushioning of the arch support against her back, and looked down, only to watch his heel pop inside and cut the light. “WAIT, WAI-MMPHF!!!”
 Olivia could only scream as she was forced face-first into the damp sock. Her little breasts squished flat, and her pelvis was held in place as she was tightly enveloped by foot flesh. Her body began to squish beneath the mounting weight. The air was pressed from her lungs and she felt her bones slither and shift, as if they were in the way of her becoming as flat as she was expected to be. Her pretty features were, they were buried into the arch of this massive foot. A sour, salty taste assaulted her tongue as sweat absorbed by the sock was squeezed directly into her open mouth. She was held there, her heart the only thing that dared move, beating to keep her alive. 
The weight lifted, and immediately air was forced back into her lungs. Tainted and noxious, it was a direct shot to her lower brain. The concentrated, masculine odor sent the intern’s young mind reeling as she felt her body reinflate. She couldn't keep track what happened next. Robbed of sight, Olivia’s remaining senses were completely overloaded as the foot squashed and played with her. She clung with all her might to the oily fibers of the sock, desperate to stay alive, to stay in place. Then, she was overtaken by a sensation of weightlessness and vertigo. She felt herself falling. She felt the foot falling on top of her. 
Again she was compressed, tighter this time. To her fullest. Air squeezed from her lungs once more as she instinctively struggled against the sole. She’s flattened all the same. A few seconds later, and liftoff. This time, the vertigo that tickles her aching stomach is accompanied by a deep lungful of musk. She’s sailing forward, before being uncompromisingly flattened again.
 Again. 
And again. 
And again. 
Bill had begun to walk.