"Okay, I'll volunteer one of you", he said in a tired voice. "Parkins. Hop in, go down, face up. Oh, and take your shoes off before you do. I don't like the feel".

She finally regained her ability to speak - only to loudly proclaim:

"No! What the fuck! No!"

Maybe he heard her - he sighed and leaned down, trunk-like fingers reaching out towards her, a thin smile on his lips promising her that no matter what she did, no matter what she said, he was going to simply grab her and do this to her. She opened her mouth to scream - and felt a hand cover her lips. She looked to the side. Olivia stood there, staring up with defiance. She lifted her other arm and waved.

"I'll do it!", she screamed. "I'll do it".

"Counting to three!" Bill said, straightening his stance again.

Liv and Trish looked at each other.

"No", Trish pleaded.

"I think I have to", Olivia said, frowning. "Don't worry. It'll be okay".

With that, she climbed on top of the table and took a step towards the giant's shoe. Trish wanted to run after her, grab her hand, stop her - but she did none of that as she simply remained glued to her seat. Guilt came over her in a soul-crushing wave. But God, going there? Into his shoe, under his immense foot? It must be so dark… so tight… deadly. How can anyone survive this? Whom was she supposed to call?

But it was normal here, she realized. There were other diners in the women’s section of the dining hall, and none of them reacted. In fact, they seemed to purposefully ignore the scene. Almost like they did not want to attract attention.

Olivia jumped up, grapping the edge of the man's shoe with her hands. She pulled herself up, then, remembered to kick her pumps off; they bounced off the table, one of them falling into Trish's lap. In one swift motion, she dove into the shoe, making her way past the socked flesh. He gave her a second, maybe two, before he forcefully inserted his foot back inside, the heel of it popping back on with a soft squelch. Trish watched in horror as the man forcefully and gleefully flexed the shoe on top of their table, leather creaking, fabric rustling... a woman, muffled, screaming inside.

Was she still smiling? Was she dreaming of reaching great heights in this company as he ground her under his sole? Was she still anything but a mangled, crumpled form mashed into the threads of his sock?

He pulled his foot back a bit, rested the arch against the edge of the table and ran it back and forth, then tapped a couple of times on the floor. Getting it all nice and snug. Making himself comfortable. Mashing, stomping, flattening Olivia into his insole.

"There we go", Bill said. "I swear, some women are made for this. Ah, she's good. We gotta patent that shit. I want a couple of femants dedicated to this. Anyhow, Parkins, I gotta go. You're up next time".

He winked at her. His playful tone, his absolute indifference, his casualness finally clicked for Trish in that moment. He didn't see a promising, ambitious intern in Olivia; he didn't care to know her, or Trish for that matter. To him, they weren't employees in the same sense as he was. He thought all of this to be okay, because he didn't really see them as human. They were shrunken women, so nothing about them mattered. They could be clerks one moment and insoles the next. He had the power. And he didn't have to hear what they had to say about it.

Hell, he couldn't hear it.

He lifted his foot, turned it around on it's heel, the sole passing briefly right over her head, and then off he went about his day, taking Olivia away with him, his shoe now serving as her prison, her first day on the job turned nightmare. Trish watched him leave, paralyzed and frigtened. Then she realized she still had Liv's shoe in her lap. Red in the face, she picked up the other one, thinking she should probably save them for her friend. When was he going to return her? How long does this last for?.. Why did he only need one girl? Did he already have someone in his other shoe?