His piercing blue eyes gave her a long look, one that seemingly held her in place, one that didn’t promise anything good… like she’d been a kid all over again, and an adult was about to scold her for something she’d done, except in this case she hasn’t really done anything. Has she? Well, she was occupying a room that was clearly his now. But other than that?..

And then, with a soft rustle of fabric, his leg moved. His face and the ceiling beyond it were swiftly replaced by the dark underside of his socked foot. Wide, musky foot, sole broad, the sock taut such that she could see flesh through it. Cynthia screamed, turned around, started running - and then the foot fell upon her, smashed her flat against the carpet, buried her within the carpet threads and below the fleshy mountain. His weight settled on top of her, flattening her down, driving in just how fucking small she was; a wave of heat rolled over her, lungs struggled to find air to inhale, bones creaked, her entire being protested. He trod upon her.

And then he stepped off as he kept walking across the room, while she remained in the same spot. Cynthia pulled her legs up, curled up, cried silently, her heart beating like crazy and fluttering every time she felt a distant thud.

Thuds were growing less distant. With her eyes watery, she lifted her head to witness him walking over towards her. In a second - god, how quickly he covered distance! - his socked toes were right in front of her. She stared at them, then started backing up; in a swift motion, the foot lifted and moved forward, over her once again, flattening her down, pinning her against the ground, resting on top of her - toe crevice right over her upper body and face. The odor of his foot hit her again; she coughed, whimpered, breaking into tears.

“Cynthia”, she heard from above.

She remembered how she just told him her name. It felt ridiculous to hear it from him. She was young, smart, hard-working, ready to have a beautiful vacation. Instead, some rich hotshot had her shrunken, in his room, under his foot. Everything about it was wrong. Earlier it seemed like her normal-sized belonging scattered around the room belonged to someone else, to a different Cynthia living a different life. This feeling intensified. That Cynthia Lang couldn’t have been down here, on the floor, pinned down.

“Your friends sold you to me”.

She didn’t understand what she heard at first; and once she did, she felt like screaming.

“Seems fucked up, I know. But don’t worry. I’ve acquired you for a reason. You see, Cynthia”, his foot moved, rolled over her like a truck, squeezed the air out of her - and then moved back, once again letting her breathe the air from under his toes, - “I like having someone like you around, as long as you follow my rules. Let’s go over them. One.”

Suddenly, the foot rose on its heel - and then tapped against her and the floor. She wailed.

“You’re seen and not heard. Not a fucking whimper from now on. Two”.

Another tap, another wave of pain. She held her teeth together.

“Don’t give me reasons to pay more than minimal attention to you. You hear an order, you do it. I don’t want to waste my time on you. Three”.

Third tap; her nose started bleeding, several dark drops now visible on the fabric of the sock.

“Don’t try to run away or go against me, because I’ll flush you down the toilet. And four”.

The final tap came even stronger; she sort of bounced between the floor and his foot, sobbing silently to herself.

“I don’t want to pay attention to you, but I want all of your attention. If I notice you’re not around, if I don’t feel you”, his foot flexed on top of her, “I’ll have to do something you don’t want to happen”.

There was silence for a moment.

“Keep me happy, and, trust me, you’ll be happy too”, he finally noted before stepping off her. She didn’t move at first; he gave her a nudge. “Now I want my shoes shined. Get moving”.

And with that, he stepped off and romped his way over the bathroom. Soon, Cynthia heard the water running.