My way to freedom (NEW!) - Intro

Ava loved me so much.

Looking back at all those years, I would lie if I said that I never loved her back. However, one thing certain, I never loved her as much as she loved me. My love towards her was and still is as of today as comparable to an insect about to be crushed. Ava, from her towering love for me up there in the clouds, was absolutely dominating. Thing is, her love for me became an obsession she completely lost control over of. It is nothing short of insanity. But this is going to be over soon because I am going to save myself from her grasp.

I mean, considering I am currently fighting for survival, about under an inch of total body height, inside a giant flat sole knee high black leather boot, under Ava’s bare toes, trying to breathe on time with the rhythm of her heavy constant steps, as she is casually working up and down aisles at the restaurant she worked for as a waitress. She wears leggings actually, but since she has no socks on, she is barefoot inside those, and her foot is hot, sweaty, swollen, working like a machine to support her weight. Considering this predicament, and the fact that she intentionally put me inside there, in said situation on purpose, willingfully, to actually “strengthen our bond of love” she said to me, I swear, she’s crazy.

Ava and I met late after high school. When I saw her, I thought she was very beautiful, what a woman, I mean, her body was an example of “simply beautiful”. No extra. She sported beautiful long pale blonde hair, almost white, with dyed stripes. Her soft caucasian skin always smelled flowery. She wore popular perfume, gloss lipstick, black eyeliner and a light layer of make up, mostly making her look like a spice girl, since we were in the early 2000’s. She usually wore baggy pants that fit thigh at the waist, tank top that let her show her belly, and huge ring earrings. Small purse, platform sneakers or boots. Me? Well my name’s James…. I was that good looking normal, good hearted dude, I mean, I didn’t know she would take me into the spiraling hell of her obsession for me. I was just there, happy to hang out with her, happy that she wanted to get closer to me. I felt like, for the first time someone actually loved me, cared for me, wanted to see me, was coming forward to me. It felt good. I kinda actually loved her.

It was a good feeling. I mean back then. But Ava’s love issue started rather soon. She started checking my online surf history on my old Pentium computer. She would pinpoint me looking at other girls. Her jealousy would make her want to always hang out with me, never leave me alone. She would sleep at my place or insist that I sleep at her place. Of course we were in our little love bubble. But as more time passed by, I could feel that she wanted more. She wanted me for herself, only herself, and started interfering in my social life. I would always tell her that my lone time with my friends was important, and we started to argue more often. Sometimes I would cave in, let her win and stay with her, but sometimes I also stood my ground and told her I would spend time with my friends. That would make her angry, and she started sending me old sms text messages on our flip cellphones. It would always end up with me being sorry, apologizing for not being close enough to her, not caring enough for her growing lust.

Then, one day, out of nowhere, she zapped me with that fucking shrinking portable device and crushed the damn thing to pulp right in front of my scared and unbelieving tiny little new shrunken self. She blasted me and scolded me about the fact it was actually my fault if she had to shrink me, holding me responsible for the downfall of our couple, the fact I was “always” seeing other people, that I probably had another relationship, which was absolute bullshit by the way. She basically turned it all up on me, walking, in front of me explaining why she actually shrunk me, and blaming me for not being the perfect boyfriend her delusions expected me to be.

Then of course she cried, she told me she was sorry, she told me that she loved me so much, that she was doing this only to keep me closer, safer. “You’re my soul mate, James, we’re meant to be together, always.” She kept saying. And I insist on the fact she was absolutely serious about the “always” part. At first she kept me inside her bra, cupped between her soft breasts, gently bumped and squeezed around by their giant soft and comforting embrace. She would bring me everywhere. I was half happy, half bitter. I actually started to miss my real life and no matter how hard I tried to convince her to grow me back to normal size, Ava discouraged the idea, saying that it wouldn’t be safe for me out there anymore. People thought I actually disappeared. Ava played the devastated girlfriend role. My normal life started to get away from me, mostly causing pain and grief for my family and friends. In short… she stole my life, turned me into a love slave.

I started to voice my concern. Blame her. I started opposing her and she didn’t like it at all. That’s when hell started. Blaming me for being ungrateful and disrespectful towards her, Ava decided that I was no longer allowed the privilege of living in her bra, that forever forth, the safest place for me to live in as small and tiny as I was, was inside her footwear. “You’ll be the little man who lived in a shoe!” she used to giggle at me trying me to convince me it would be a good thing for me to be with her foot, how it would keep me safe, close to her, in a more appropriate to size kind of embrace. Yup, she actually tried to convince me it was a good thing, that it was meant to be, because we were god damned soul mates in her crazy mind.

So, yeah, here I am, inside her leather boot, inhaling her powerful foot smell, pushed, crushed, trampled around under her massive toes, in their moist, smelly and firm rule over me. They are heavy, powerful and hungry. Ava loves to grasp me under her toes and scrunch them over me, her way to hug me, to tell me she loves me so much.

Of course those boots were not that bad. Yeah well, I mean, after 5 years I swear there were worse shoes and boots than those. The fact she found a job in a restaurant made her walk around a lot and she had numerous pairs of different footwear for work over the years. She also had sports shoes, lots of heels and platforms, lots of sneakers, ankle boots, and flats and skates and ski boots and whatnot, she had every possible type of footwear, and loved to keep me inside them all, whenever she needed to wear them, all the time. Spending a complete ski day inside her ski boots, squeezed under a thick cotton sock without much oxygen is much worse than a shift at the restaurant. Hell, Saturday morning jogging is worse. Clubbing is worse. I mean, I almost consider myself lucky right now.

Ava doesn’t talk to me much anymore, if not to tell me she loves me. She always says so before she shoves her foot down over me into whatever footwear she previously put me into. I rarely get any attention beyond that. When there is impossibility for her to put me inside her shoes or whatever, she places me into a sealed mason jar into a double locked safe that she keeps in her closet. Those times are long and boring, but at least it is better than being trampled over and over mercilessly.

But I am determined now.

I will run away for my freedom. I will get my life back, and sue her when I am back to my normal size. I tell you, there is nothing that is going to stop me from taking back my freedom. I’ll do whatever it takes, or die trying. However, I’ll wait for tomorrow, cause right now, this suffering is going to be hard to recover from and at least I’ll have the night, sleeping in Ava’s sock, to figure out a plan. That’s all I need, an escape plan.