Tricia's Rehab (Commissioned) - Part 2 of 2

I don’t know how long I was passed out. When I woke up and got back to my senses, I could see shoe soles taking turns stomping me. Tricia’s Nikes, some Dr Martens hard sole, also quite used and dirty, and some converse soles, they were the easiest to endure. Boom. Boom. They took turn stomping me one after the other, hard, very hard and for some reasons, I wouldn’t die, but it hurt like hell, I could feel their soles mark my body, especially the sole patterns. I saw the word NIKE in my face numerous times, probably imprinting itself in my skin. 

“I told you, he can’t die.” I heard from above. Tricia’s voice, for sure. The bitch then stomped me again. I could only guess Tricia had brought me to some friend’s place across the state or even further. All 3 girls looked down at me and stomped me like if I was a piece of shit. There was a brunette, and a girl with blue dyed hair; she was the one wearing the Dr Martens. 

“Fuck him.” she said, then the Dr Martens sole came down crushing me. Now THAT hurt, my senses were now fully back and it hurt a lot. Once her foot was away from me I screamed and curled up in fetal position. “Oh he’s awake!” she said. Boom, I felt the converse sneaker sole crash down on me while I was curled up, on my sides. God damn crazy bitches, I wanted them to leave me alone, they didn’t see how in pain I was. Or maybe they did....She removed her foot away from me and looked down at me her blue hair falling down around her face.

“Hey bug! Tell us how to remove Tricia’s bracelet thing!” she said from above me. Tricia showed me her bracelet the prison enforcers put on her wrist before starting this whole failed rehab experiment. 

“Fuck you.” I said, then I spat some blood.

“Wrong answer.” Tricia said pushing her friend away and preparing to jump. Then I saw her massive giantess body lift up and I was scared I would just die right there. The second later, both her shoe soles were above me floating in mid air, and the other second after, both came down crashing on me together as she jumped hard and stomped me down full weight with both feet. She flattened me, I could feel my body explode, but it didn’t. She continued to jump on me several times, stomping with both feet. Boom, boom. I was screaming my pain out until my lungs were burning. She jumped again! She insulted me, screamed and jumped. I wished I stayed passed out. The excruciating pain of being crushed by a jumping skyscraper wasn’t my god damned cup of tea. She finally stopped stomping after an eternity and stepped off of me. I just tried to turn on my belly and ended up crawling slowly for no reason, with no destination. I just wanted her to know she would never break my will. 

“I’ll repeat my question for your little deaf ears. How do we remove this fucking bracelet?”

“I don’ know.” I said. The looming shadow of her white Nike sole came over me again. This time, she placed the heel of the shoe next to me, and slowly descended the shoe sole with all her weight down on my body. She stepped down, leaving only my head out from under her foot, all my body crushed down except my head sticking out on its side since I was on my belly. She used her other foot to come press my face down on the floor with the tip of the shoe. I was determined to resist the tortures as much as I could, until I would die.

“I am sure he was trained for this.” One of the other girls said while Tricia was literally standing on me full weight, including my tiny head under her second foot. I saw the dirty soles of converse sneakers get way too close. Tricia removed the tip of her shoe from my head and suddenly it was replaced by the Converse’s sole. The brunette up there decided to place her foot on my head, side by side with Tricia’s foot on the rest of my tiny body. She pressed down, probably full weight because the rubber sole molded around it under it could press any harder.

“Yeah, we should get rid of him.” Said the other one. 

“How?” asked Tricia above me, still standing on me. 

“Let’s bury him alive.” Said one of the girls. 

“Let’s shoot him.” The other one said. 

“How can you shoot him, he’s too small.” Said Tricia. 

“Lemme show you.” Said the girl with Dr Martens. Both girls stood off of me, and quickly after, fingers that smelled like cigarette grabbed my puny body. I tried to squirm, but she was pressing me too firmly. There was some rumbling and soon enough, I found out what she had in mind. She had a gun, a small pistol in her hand, that girl, and she brought me to the cannon opening, gun facing up. “Get in there.” She said, pushing me down face first into the gun’s dark cannon, I tried to get a grip but I couldn’t she just pushed me inside and the girls laughed. “It’s a tight fit you little fucker, you should lose weight.” She said, the girls giggled, but not long. I was inside a fucking gun. That for sure would pulverise me. 

“You can’t shoot him here, let’s go in the backyard.” Said the other girl. I tried to pull myself out of the gun cannon but she kept it facing up I couldn’t go backwards I was head down in the black hole in front of me. They all walked outside, laughing and chatting about how I would probably explode. This was it again, I would die there, the impact would be way too powerful this time. Once outside, I saw light coming behind me from the opening of the gun cannon. 

“Aight little fucker, one last chance, how can I remove this bracelet?”I heard Tricia ask me from outside. I sure would be pulverised to death this time, I kind of freaked out and quickly remembered the training manual I read in my little supposed-to-be unfindable box.

“YOU NEED THE UNLOCK CODE!” I screamed, trying to save myself, trying to parley. 

“Wait Jen, don’t shoot, get him out...” Tricia said. 

“Aww come on, let’s kill him.” The girl replied. 

“Get him out, I want that code. Can’t go to the compound with feds tracing me. We don’t have much time.” Tricia said. 

“The gun was tilted forward and I started to slide down and plopped out of the cannon. I fell for like 2 seconds, down several stories and landed hard on the backyard cement tiles that had weed growing inbetween. It hurt, damn it. Those crazy girls were stupid. That bracelet probably didn’t even work at all. Tricia crouched above me. 

“Give me the code, or I put you back in my shoe permanently.” She said. I didn’t answer. She picked me up without any care and brought me close to her giant bitch’s mouth, holding me in her clasped hand. She screamed so loud, my ears started to hurt. “GIVE, ME, THE, CODE!” it was so loud, I think my eardrums broke, It hurt so bad, all I could hear is a high pitched sound, all the rest was cut away. I saw her lips move, but no sound, just that high pitch thing giving me a rapidly increasing headache. 

“5214” I said. I didn’t even hear myself say it. 

Tricia dropped me back on the cement tiles out there in the garden. Once again I landed with a thud. Tricia rummaged with the bracelet up there and finally got the locks opened and threw the damn thing away from her in the neighbor’s backyard. 

“Finally! Now let’s move out of here before the cops arrive.”

“Can I kill him now?” said the blue haired girl with her gun. 

“Nah....I want revenge on that fucker. He’s gonna suffer in my shoe for a few years. Come on let’s go to the compound.” Tricia said, walking back way too close with her white Nike sneakers. I was holding my head. The high pitched sound finally got a bit less intense. Tricia crouched and picked me up without any care. She dangled me upside down, holding my ankles. Down there under me, she had removed one of old Nike air 90 shoe and I was going down the opening. 

“Please!” I said. 

“Fuck you okay? You’ll die a slow death in there. That’s for my boyfriend’s death.” Tricia said. She lowered me inside, but then pulled me out back again. I saw her other hand plunge into the trashed shoe and lift the insole. She lowered me again, this time, I was being lowered near the heel, down inside the shoe and as soon as I touched the ground, I fell backwards, my back against the heel of the shoe and SLAM. The insole came down like a trap, slapping itself back to its rightful place in the shoe, over my legs and body. The way I was placed was very uncomfortable cause all my body was under the insole, but since my back was against the heel of the shoe, my upper torso and head were curved inward and a bit out from under the insole. Basically, my face was looking at the long insole surface, at ground level, while the rest of my body was under. I couldn’t hear well, my ears were probably going deaf now. All I knew is that I had to resist. 

Tricia’s socked foot came into the shoe, it was clearly a sight to see. How big and smelly and dirty her sock was. It came down inside and dove into the depths of the shoe away from me, restraining the outside light. But then, the heel came settling in the shoe right in front of my face, scraping it as it passed by and landed on my body, which was under the insole. My face was stuck at the back of her heel, the round shaped weight supporting form almost stepping on my face too. I was almost under it completely. The cotton sock material was brushing my face. What I didn’t know when I was under her toes is that Tricia wore her nike shoes a bit loose sometimes and that each step she took, the heel would lift from the sole by a few bits and crash down again on it, every time swooshing the air in and out of the shoe and scraping my face, and crushing my body at the same time. The heel of her sock was dirty, smelly, disgusting. For some reasons she walked a lot, the girls probably left the place they were at. Tricia didn’t seem to care nor need me anymore and with each step I would sink in deeper under the running shoe’s insole. 

There was a car drive cause I could feel Tricia’s weight on her heel pressing me in a very awkward position at the back of her old running shoe. I could feel the vibrations of the car’s engine. It felt like this would never end, that my life was now going to be spent in a shoe. That bitch, I hated her from the bottom of my heart. I don’t even know why I accepted to help with her rehab, I should have stayed away, far away from this nonsense. This ridiculous torture was a punishment for my lack of wits, 7 years sentence is much better than 5 minutes inside her shoe. If only those stupid federal agents did a good job at hooking up the small box I was in, this would never have happened and they would have protected me. Stupid RnD programs. 

Somehow they got to where they were going cause Tricia stepped off the car and walked. There was some standing around, full weight on her heels, which means full weight on me. I couldn’t breathe because of the pressure for a moment but at some point walking resumed. That’s when things got weird. There was commotion, screams and stuff, and then, Tricia removed her sneaker and yelled. 

“Take him, take him now!” she said to her friend, dumping me on the floor. I couldn’t adjust to the light quick enough, I saw giant fingers grabbing me. 

“Tricia run! Keep your head down!” screamed the blue haired girl who was named Jen, holding me, talking to her friend. There was really something urgent happening and I couldn’t tell what. Maybe a drug deal gone wrong, shit happens with shitty people. The girl, barely looked down at me and dumped me inside her Dr Martens boot which smelled heavy leather and foot sweat and was very disturbing. I fell down all the way to the disgusting humid toe section and before I could do anything, her giant black socked foot came rushing in like a train and bumped me, squeezed me crushed me under giant smelly toes. That girl’s foot smelled horrible. Why did they change? Tricia said I would be in her sneaker for years. I felt like something was going really wrong up there in the real world, screams, loud banging, were they gun fires? Some kind of fight was happening, they switched me, Tricia probably knew something was wrong.

I got trampled hard. Real hard. Running, jumping, under that unknown punk chick. She wore her dr Martens looser too and I ended tumbling around under her foot, sometimes crushed under the arch, sometimes under the ball of foot, I ended up face first into the insole or right under her humid stinky socked toes. I managed to grab her sock and place myself under the much safer area under her arch, praying for my dear life. Then I felt something wrong, warm, liquid, sticky. The heartbeat inside her foot started to rise and the running stopped. In fact, the girl above me probably tried to crouch. The sticky fluid smelled like iron. 

Blood. Fucking blood coming down her leg into her boot, her sock couldn’t absorb it all, She was bleeding a lot. I was disgusted, completely utterly disgusted, and I was afraid the pool of blood would only continue to flood the boot. Luckily enough, The girl sat down, and the inflow of blood kinda stopped. I could hear her scream in pain, cry. I tried to use the grasp on her sock that I have to reluctantly climb my way up to her toes since she was now lying down on her back. I didn’t want to be in contact with blood. I hold her sock, under her warm humid toes, away from the blood like that for a moment, things got more calm outside in the real world. I could still feel the bitch’s heart pounding. She probably got shot. What an idiot. 

Hmm.

Happens that the girl did not die, that Jen girl. She was arrested too, along with Tricia and the other brunette with the converse and a few more acolytes, drug dealers and gang members. Even some of my gang members. Federal agents squat team, tactical intervention, they raided the secret compound they were all hiding their loot in between deals. Drugs, cigarettes, cars, stolen goods of all types, lots of cash money. It all got seized as evidence. 

I screamed a lot in that boot. A LOT. I wanted out. I wanted for the cops to hear me and free me. Actually they did at the state police station where the girl above me had to change for her temporary detention while prosecutors were doing their work. Yup. I got out of that hell hole alive, 1 inch tall, but alive. 

I met and agent, I was standing on a stainless table in an interrogation room. He sat in front of me at the table and got out his blabla like they usually do. He also informed me that the tracker they put inside me helped them reach the secret compound’s location and that I had helped them finding and dealing with what he called “punk scum.” I hated that police officer. If I was tall, my real height I could have punched this guy’s face so hard they would bring me back to my peaceful life in prison and leave me the fuck alone. But nah, at 1 inch tall you listen to the blabla. I wanted some decent explanations as to why their shit malfunctioned. He told me it was all fake to make me and Tricia believe. Not only I had participated in having Tricia’s boyfriend killed a few years ago in a gone bad deal in mexico, but I helped those stupid feds clear out almost two entire gangs at the same time, including mine. 

I felt like a traitor. 

“Since you have done so well during your first assignment in the pilot Miniaturized Rehabilitation Program, Mister Smith, you have now 5 years cut off your current sentence.” The man said, showing me a form, signed by Judge Marlow. It should have felt good, but it didn’t. Now that I knew so many people out there would want me dead, I preferred my prison cell. “We have a second assignment for you now.” He got a file out of his suitcase and dropped in on the table, sending a swooshing wave to me. 

“FUCK YOU!” I screamed. “Put your bullshit programs up your ass, bring me back to normal size NOW, and I want to speak with my lawyer, is that fucking clear you fucking pig!” I was so mad. “You can’t test your shit on me like this, I want out. NOW. NOW! Not in five fucking minutes! NOW, do you understand you dumbass?”

The man looked at me above his glasses, skeptical. 

I got back to my cell, yup. At normal size. Still today, I have nightmares of being inside Tricia N. Thompson’s sneakers, crushed by her whole damn crazy bitch’s weight, smelling her disgusting foot as part of her shoe. 

The End