Heather's Foot Bitch - Chapter 3

Just before I arrived to work I met one of my coworkers in the bus and she looked at me with disdain. I didn’t know her much, I think her name was Jessica. That made me realize that my current behavior at work could be seen as bad. She was there the day before when I got shrunk and humiliated in front of everyone. I kind of realized that it could greatly affect my reputation. People would get to understand that I have a foot fetish or some sort of fabulation about Heather or her shoes. I had to protect my reputation and I decided that once at work I’d be more careful not to get shrunk and not to get any attention. 

But the bus got stuck, and before they could send another one, it took 30 minutes. Once we both arrived at work, Jessica and I were 30 minutes late. People were already on the phone, and heather was really looking at me like if I had done something wrong. I tried to explain her that the bus broke down and that we had to wait but she looked at me like if she didn’t care. She dismissed Jessica, saying she could go to her cubicle, but me, she told me to stay. 

“I am disappointed, Amy.” Said Heather to me, at her desk, some people who had closer cubicles look our way. “I thought you had learned your lesson by now, but you keep disappointing me.” It felt like injustice, especially since Jessica was late too and got off without any consequences. Heather had that power trip over me, she wanted me to be her foot bitch I knew it and while I wanted to try and save my reputation, as soon as she stood up, wearing her knee high boots I had cleaned, I felt completely dominated again and at her mercy. She had the shrinking device in her hand. She didn’t make any case of it, didn’t call for attention, she just walked to me and grabbed a hold of my hair. She didn’t pull, she just held my hair in her grasp, and then activated the shrinker. I started to shrink immediately but I didn’t feel like going down small, I felt like going up. All my clothes fell off of me and in seconds, I was hanging by my hair, approximately 5 inches tall, suspended and naked. So much for trying to resist.

I was excited, red as a beet, and Heather holding me like this made me feel very small. Some people looking our way started to laugh and make fun of me. “Get back to work!” said Heather to them. “You, Amy, will go inside my boots today.” She dropped me on the floor next to her desk, and I felt how small I was, but I was way taller than last time. I felt like I was a small baby doll toy. Heather reached the zipper of her left boot and brought it down all the way to the sole. She had jeans and black socks. She then removed her boot and held it in front of me. “Get in, on you back. Head first.” I was concerned about my 5 inches size in her boot, there would not be enough room for me and her foot, but Heather didn’t seem to care, she actually seemed to be looking forward to it. “You’ll be my insole.” She said, she smiled down at me. I walked to her boot and was immediately caught by it’s smell, they were potent and well worn. I crouched and sat inside the boot, I laid down on my back and tried to squirm my way into the boot. The leather insole was dirty and smelly and humid. Heather cackled and chuckled at me and decided she would help by shoving her socked foo over and on me, dragging my body inside and I had my have under her toes and my breasts under the ball of her foot and the length of my tiny thin body under her arch. She finally settled her heel inside the boot and started to zip up the boot. This gave me a rather strange feeling. The exterior world being denied to me, cut away. Entrapement started to feel a bit more oppressive. The zipper went up sealing me inside the boot along with Heather smelly foot over me and taking most if not all the available space. I felt crushed under her heavy weight. My unfair predicament was soon very hard to bear as she started to walk on me, not caring about putting all her weight on my frail body, cutting the air out of me, and giving me only her foot smell to breathe when I could. She wiggled her socked toes on my face, the wrinkles of the cotton sock on my face smelled powerful like her foot. 

I felt claustrophobic, unable to move my arms and all. The air was stale and rare, the pressure was immense and almost unbearable. I could hear muffled laughs and giggles above me, some talking, discussions between people of normal size, ignoring me completely. Or maybe were they talking about me, I couldn’t know. I squirmed my discomfort. I was met with a solid stomp. I guess that meant I had to stop squirming and act like what I was actually shrunk for: an insole. 

So I did. It was rather easy, all I had to do is endure and not move. 

I didn’t work at all that shift, or I guess I was paid to smell Heather’s foot inside her boot. When the shift was over, Heather did not remove me from the boot, nor she did acknowledge my presence in there. She stayed at work with some people cause I heard some chatter above and out of the boot. What I learned after, is that Heather had absolutely no plan on letting me out of that boot at all, she wanted to go out and have a drink at the bar with the cool gang. So that’s what they did. The walking over me was very hard as she didn’t care about how much pressure she would put on me, I guess the shrinking process protected me from being crushed, or else they would never use that thing in schools. Above me, Heather started with a few drinks, I swear her body temperature started to rise and the loud music made me feel like I was not part of the cool people. I was part of the lower tier idiots not even worth giving a fuck about. They had fun above me while I was forced to endure Heather’s foot, all her body pressure, and the smell. The potent excruciating smell that, as a matter of fact, I did not dislike. But at that point I had enough. I wanted out and I decided to let my tormentor know about the fact I wanted to go home, and all, but I was met again with some stomps and laughs. Then, After she realized I was persistent, I felt and heard the zipper go down and some fresh air come into my boot prison as she removed her socked foot from me. We were at the bar, sitting at a table. She brought the boot to her lap. I couldn’t see her tho, my head was at the bottom end of the boot. I felt fingers grab my legs and pull me out of the boot, upside down. I could see the bar, the people laughing at me and Heather’s huge face, upside down. 

“Hey bitch. You reek! Hahahaha!” I smelled the alcohol from her mouth as she talked to me. “I’m putting you in my other boot for the rest of the night. And I am gonna fucking dance all over you, how does that sound?” she said. Dancing, oh my god, no. 

“Please, let me go!” I screamed out the best I could. 

“Fuck you, Amy. You’re my foot bitch and right now, I feel like dancing on you.” She said. I was lowered and suddenly, I realized she dropped me on the floor under the table. She unzipped her other boot and kicked it to the side. “Get inside!” she ordered me from above. I was hesitant, I had enough of this for now. I was happy that she was treating me like shit, and humiliating me in front of the others, and I felt like it was a treat to have her do this to me, and got all the rush of adrenaline form it, but I had enough. 

“No!” I screamed. She stomped me with her socked foot. “Get, inside, my, boot, NOW!” she said to me in very stern commanding tone. She frowned at me from up there, already putting the boot I was in back on and zipping it up. I refused to go inside the next boot. She bent down and picked me up along with the boot. “Amy, poor girl, you’ll regret disobeying me.” She said, a bit drunk. She forced stuffed me inside the boot in the same position I was in, the smell was a bit different but almost the same. Maybe it ws the fact I got habituated to the other boot’s smell, and this one was all fresh and ready for me. I tried to struggle but she was so big and forceful, I couldn’t do much. Then her foot came into view and forced itself up on me, and crushed me inside. She brought down her foot to the floor and pushed her heel inside the boot, settling her foot in place over me. She zipped the boot up and gave me a few good stomps. 

Now, nothing I had endured so far could have prepared me for dancing. Heather stayued at the table for a couple more drinks and laughs before they all got up and went to the dance floor. It all started slowly, she would dance a bit on me, but then, the music got intense and she got into the mood and it was repetitive stomping, weight shifting and of course her foot got warmer and started to sweat over me. My face buried into the sock under her toes started to gather beads of her sweat and had trouble breathing in that heavy sweaty and stinky sauna. I tried to struggle but she ignored me and danced. She danced on me like she told me she would without any second thought. It was torture, and I tried to think about maybe I should complain and talk to the big bosses of the call center. She was doing this outside of work hours, torturing me for no reason, for her own fun and that’s all. It was abuse, I felt abused, violated and I wanted it all to end. 

However, the was no end in sight, only more dancing, and more sweat, and more heat, and more choking on sock lint getting in my mouth. The pressure was almost unbearable I had to time my breathing with each step. I had to try not to pas out from the tremendous pressure and all the rapid movements. She was having a good time above me, crushing me inside her boot without caring. And me, me…well…

I started to cry. I couldn’t hold the tears and I mixed them with her foot sweat. I felt like a loser. Why did I enjoyed this in the first place, why did I not think that Heather would bring this little folly to another level. Why was I at firs interested in this. I regretted deeply, I felt stupid. Yes, okay, I admit I enjoyed it at first, it was a thrill to be dominated by Heather, but there was nothing really “wrong” about licking shoes or spending time under her feet, it was actually fun and all, but being trapped like this in her knee high old smelly boots while she literally trampled me into the insole, trampled me into madness, it was too much. She forced trampled the weight of regret into me, and I ultimately passed out, being overly danced on, without being given a single chance to protest.