She thought of what would people think if they ever found out: smart, capable, clever Sylvia, now a nameless bug mashed under Ned’s massive toes.
She thought of the meals she’d never get to enjoy again, people she’d never meet, joys she’d never have.
Then she thought of him — towering over her, disdainful, uncaring, expecting her unconditional devotion, intent of getting the most out of her selfless sacrifice. She thought of his excitement. She imagined the smile on his face once he’d see this smart woman throw herself beneath his feet. Once he’d have her debase herself by licking the grime off his soles. She knew his tastes well; she’d be a worm to him. He enjoyed destroying the person as much as he enjoyed the attention.

And she was the person who spent countless hours imagining that destruction.

“Yes”, she said. “Yes. Reduce me”.
He shrugged, stood up, walked over to his suitcase and pulled out the Shrinktech. He motioned for her to come; she rose and slowly approached him. He gave her the device and smiled.

Sylvia pointed it at herself and pulled the trigger.

And then she was there — multiple inches tall, standing on the floor right between his bare feet. She fell to her knees, looking up at him. The last shadow of sympathy left his face. Disdain and lust remained. The lust wasn’t for her; it was for what she no longer was.

“Eyes down, worm”, he ordered, and then his feet closed in, mashing and smothering her, bringing her down, sealing her fate with their fleshy, odorous embrace. He rubbed her tiny form between his soles, clearly savoring the feel of it. He wasn't gentle; she never expected him to be. She felt the tough muscles beneath the skin flex and stretch as he played with her body, getting the sense of it.

He caught her head between his toes, did the same with her feet, pulled in the opposite directions until she screamed, and then he dropped her back down, but immediately, as she hit the carpet, he bulldozed her with his meaty sole, so hard she thought her joints would pop, but he was getting a good idea of her limits on the fly, and the pressure was just enough. She took a breath while she could - and then his other sole slapped on top of her, slapped hard; she felt blood pouring out her nose. Ned pulled her in, rolled her against the carpet, her clothing was ripping at the seams, her beautiful white dress turning to shreds; a callous on his sole burned her face and breasts. He idly pressed his big toe against her lower lips, moved it up, onto her belly, and she thought he was about to squish her guts out of her...

...but he didn't, he ran the toe up to her face, and some of her blood got onto it, mixing with his sweat. His feet came at her together again, toes forcefully pulling her up, then pushing her head down, forcing her to her knees, then further down, until she was in a frog-like stance.

And then the toes of his left foot slid beneath her chin; the right foot fell onto her back, the heel imperiously resting in the middle of it, Sylvia groaned from the immense weight of it.
"Lick", she heard, and she only had to lower her face a tiny bit to put her face right between his toes and lick between them. She did it without thinking; his actions easily put her into a frenzied subspace, one she'd be frightened to get out of. But as she licked, as she tasted his salty sweat, as her face got govered in the gunky mix of carpet fuzz and sock lint, did she...