She came to her senses because she was drowning.

Salty liquid seeped past her lips and into her mouth. It burned her lips, her nostrils, her eyes. If coated her, permeated her clothing, sloshed in her ears. And it was forced, repeatedly, into her, as the immense weight of the giant again and again settled upon Valerie, forcing her — with a squelch — into the spongy insole. The man was still walking, his step was springy, he was happy with his newest acquisition.

Val choked on his sweat, trembled, tried to spit it out to regain her breath — but she couldn’t, as another step slammed her into the insole, forced her flat. Her limbs were in great pain; they flared with it. Her rib cage felt like it was on the brink of folding inwards, buckling beneath the giant’s weight. She felt like even if one little part of her body gave way, the rest would follow. She saw it very vividly; a tiny crack in a rib would be followed by her spine breaking, her intestines squeezing out, her head popping. She tensed up, crying, bracing herself for another step.

It came. She held. His sweat still filled her mouth. She involuntarily swallowed some; it went down with a burning sensation. There was still so much in her mouth. So much more was on her face, pouring down her nostrils and attacking her eyes.

“I won’t survive this”, she thought. “I can’t breathe”.

But she had to breathe, so she swallowed more and more, using her lips and tongue to make way for air, and air came — thin, infused with his musk, malodorous, but it seemed like the freshest gust of wind. She only had a fleeting moment to enjoy it, though, because he took a step again, and again she was pressed into the insole, probably making a female-shaped indent in it. Again the foot above her royally flexed as it smothered and utterly dominated the puny girl trapped underneath. Again the hot and hungry sole enveloped her, and more sweat made it into her mouth.

The subservience that she felt towards the man back in the cinema have way to a pure and primal desire to live. Getting to live would take pleasing him. Being a sturdy little insole. Swallowing, again and again, his perspiration. Maybe some praying.

So she did it all, she played the good little insole girl as she remained there, trapped under his foot, a comfortable piece of padding, barely distinguishable from the insole itself. How long would it take? How often would he do this to her? This would be what she’d think about if she still had the mental capacity to think. But she didn’t. Just one conscious minute of being so utterly dehumanized threw her deep into a state where all she cared for was self-preservation. She may have been a shrunken girl, recently, but now she was just something he walked on, and she was determined to make it through it. Unless the massive foot that trampled her had something to say about it…

***

For him, it all started a couple of years ago. He was invited by a former classmate to audition for an ad they were doing for a social campaign, “Tiny Female Awareness”. The scene was simple: a group of shrunken women actresses would pile up into a small mound of half-naked bodies, then a giant actor would crown the pile of girls with a bare foot. It was meant to symbolise something about how the shrunken women were not treated well by the society. How the normal-sized people left them behind and below.

He was selected to do it. The pay was shit, so he wasn’t even that excited. But he’d never forgotten the feeling that came over him once he actually did it. There were about fifteen actresses, who together made a small hill of half-naked girls. He hovered his leg over them for a bit before letting it down. The moment his sole met their supple bodies he felt an incredible rush. It was cathartic. It was something he’d never felt before. He had a bunch of women trapped under his foot, supporting it with their lithe forms.

He went off-script. He pressed down, squishing them into a tighter pile. The operator gave him a thumbs up, the picture were taken with those girls obviously crying, shaking, swearing. Their little heads poked out from beneath his sole. Their limbs pushed against it, but it was futile. They were barely above insects, and they were beneath him.

Surprisingly, after the photoshoot one of the actresses came up to him and, shaking and blushing, admitted she liked how he took the matter into his own hands. She liked him asserting his will over them. She liked how forward he was with trampling them. She asked if he’d want to do more of it.

He couldn’t refuse. He responded by simply presenting his soles to her; they entirely concealed the minuscule woman from his view. But he felt her lean in, felt her little hands on his sole, felt her tongue sheepishly run along the wrinkles in his skin. Ever since then, he knew there was only one place for shrunken women in his life. They were meant to serve him.

Surprisingly, a lot of them sort of knew it — though, perhaps, only deep down. His basic tactic was to never even talk to them. It was usually enough to make them feel like they were truly below him, and he always did that by nonchalantly imposing his presence. Usually — by resting his bare feet next to them, in front of them, on top of them. Bullying them into submission. “Talk to the foot”, he’d think to himself. “And, once you’re done talking, get those lips working”.

He’s never had slaves stay for a long time; he either broke them too much or became bored with them. It was the process of bringing a new shrunken pet down to heel that excited him. Valerie was just one of many, though she was pretty promising. Now that she struggled for breath beneath his foot, slurping the sweat off his skin, he wondered how far would he take her. He wondered if she was worth a little more than most. Just how much devotion could he get out of her.

And, if it wasn’t enough, just how would he dispose of her. Throw her out, let her think about this episode until the end of her life? Snuff her out? Give her to a friend? So many options. So much to think about. But, for now, he was just content with the feeling of her fragile, gentle, soft form beneath his sole, because God did he adore having a tiny lady down there, in her proper place.