If was surreal how much her life has changed in the last hour. If someone had suggested to Vivienne just this morning that she’d have such a hard time between choosing to either pick a giant man’s sweaty socks clean or to enter one of his cavernous, immense shoes. It was almost like he was inviting her to go ever further, take another step in her self-inflicted humiliation. The fact that he still hadn’t acknowledged her presence drove Vivienne wild.

She was already so, so low. And yet she wanted to go lower. She wanted to give it her all.

The socks were enticing. Damp with sweat, they clung closely to his skin. While she was trying to decide, she saw him idly flex his feet, and these tiny motions were viciously alluring to her. The socks underlined and accentuated everything by concealing the skin; it wasn’t just what she could see, it was what she couldn’t see that was causing her to salivate. Salivate? She wasn’t quite ready to admit she had a foot fetish or anything like that. Viv just felt very much in the moment. Like she was on some special wavelength with Trevor. Like Trevor’s feet and shoes deserved any and all attention she could give them.

Like she, herself, was simply meant to serve and worship the lowest part of this man’s body.

His socked soles mesmerized her, but her gaze didn’t stay glued to them for long. Instead, it traveled towards the closest shoe. The gaping hole of its opening seemed strangely inviting. As much as she wanted to touch his feet, she was still deathly afraid of being discovered and shamed. Besides… she wasn’t done with her job down here yet. She still had to do more cleaning.

From the inside this time around.

She skittered past his mighty feet and approached the shoe. It was lying on its side. The opening now seemed a vast, gaping maw, which invited her with the worn, sour smell of stale sweat emanating from within. She imagined just how many miles he must have walked in these, imagined that rubber and fabric flexing and stretching to accommodate his feet as he was breaking his shoes in, and she felt a strange appreciation for how well this faithful footwear must have served him. It was only correct that someone her size should give it a bit of caring feminine touch. She was like a little maid; all that was missing was an outfit.

Maybe she'd always needed something like this in her life. Ever since she became small, she couldn't really help others or give back. Couldn't repay for the kindness and care she received.
Or, perhaps, she was just thirsty; her life was devoid of intimate pleasures or attention from the opposite sex. Men didn't shrink, after all. But this way... this way she could be close to one of them. Useful to him.

Useful. How many times has she thought of herself this way by now? It was such a good word.

She braced herself, raised her leg, stepped onto the lip of the opening; her foot slightly sunk into it. She moved it back and kicked off her pumps; somehow it felt wrong to wear them while inside. She also dropped her jacket here; it was barely more than a rug at this point and would be useless while in there. Now barefoot, she advanced. The aroma came at her at waves - or maybe her senses were still trying to adapt to the overwhelming presence of Trevor, and were getting constantly overloaded. She was shaking, even though the temperature of the air around her went up a at least couple degrees since the moment she stepped inside. She could feel the humidity; at one point she stopped and inhaled deeply, letting the in-shoe atmosphere really enter her, permeate her.

"This is so wrong". She couldn't entirely get rid of the thought. She was acting creepy. Trevor was a bully. None of this was right. She'd get kicked out in a second if the university admin ever learned this happened.
But no one had to learn about this. She'd be in and out. A little adventure, one that will turn into a little hobby at best, and that's only if she dares to do all this again. Being submissive isn't a crime. Wanting to serve someone isn't either. She's not hurting him in any way. In fact, she nearly died doing all this.

This reminded her she couldn't waste time. She had to do her job - a maid's job - and get out. "I'm like a little fairy", she mused. "A shoe-cleaning fairy for a handsome master." But he wasn't really a master to her, was he? Masters are aware of their subjects. He was an object of adoration and worship. Maybe, in a twisted way, even just an instrument. An outlet for desires she's never been aware of... until today.

She continued her trek. The ground under her feet was getting... damper. Spongier. There was little light within the shoe, but enough for her to see the insole ahead; it was dark, with a deep indent, and some scattered remnants of whatever logo or words were once printed on it. Spots of cracked ink didn't tell her anything. She imagined how it must have been getting destroyed, dissolved, rubbed away. The insole itself was flattened, beaten, soaked and discolored; it must have taken ages to get it to this state. The thorough work that Trevor's godly foot has done on this insole was incredible. It must have been a slow process, day by day, as it conformed to the shape of his sole, got molded by it, became truly his. And that was something Vivienne herself had lost when she shrunk — the ability to reshape, destroy, affect even the little things around her.

“Wish I could see him crush something”, she thought to herself. Maybe she could figure something out. Drag something fragile into this office for the next time. Leave it under the desk. Hide and watch until his foot finds it…

She reached out with her hand and touched the insole; it harder than she expected, and it was slightly damp. She traced it with her fingers. She didn’t have to search for long; her hand came across some piece of trash lodged into the insole. She pulled it out, looked around for a moment. Where was she going to put it?

She left her poor torn jacket outside, but she still had a shirt on. She pulled it off, tied the sleeves, making it into a makeshift trashbag; Vivienne wasn’t sure if it would be enough, but it was a start. She went on her knees next to the insole and started looking at its edge, where it met the wall of the shoe. Unsurprisingly, she immediately came across large pieces of sock fuzz and lint. She started picking those out, quickly losing herself once again in this productive task. It felt like good work to Vivienne. Sometimes, she stopped, suddently overwhelmed by the powerful odor of the giant's feet - a smell she was getting very much used to. It was another sign of his sheer presence of this mountain of a man, a constant reminder that he was so impossibly large, so far above her, and she was just a girl at his feet. But she wanted to be a good girl, deserving of the opportunity to be there.

Still... any classes in the future would be so awkward.