All in a Day's Work (Chapter 1)

Tracy pitched low over the ground, throned in her favorite armchair, and still with both feet planted firmly on the floor: one clad in her favorite rundown aquamarine slip-on flat, and the other bare as could be. The twenty-five-year-old smirked softly with just a taste of smugness, running her fingers through the wavy goldenrod ripples of her long blonde locks, and concentrated upon the rolling motion of her naked foot. Her heel, thick and ruddy-pink but unblemished, shifted momentum forward. Pressure eased from the backend of her foot into her broad doughy sole, which went from merely hovering a hairsbreadth off the carpet – plus a certain two-inch-tall target – to compacting more firmly. Tracy didn’t step down anywhere near as hard as she could, of course, and in fact used only a well-practiced perfectly-calibrated degree of tension. Exactly the amount she knew the shrunken man currently splayed spread-eagle beneath her arch could handle without suffocating him or causing extreme injury.

Though neither was the little thing exactly cozy. The heavier that ceiling of the giantess’s wrinkled sole flesh plastered itself down upon him, causing him to feel like he was sinking into its warm misty clay-like texture, the shallower his breaths turned and the more discomfort turned to increasing soreness. The recipient of Tracy’s controlled trample – named Caleb – had hoped he might be able to subdue the panic better, now that he’d spent three whole days so far legally shrunken and placed in her custody for punitive discipline. This was hardly the first occasion in that brief but upsetting time since he’d entered her clutches that he’d found himself pitifully subjugated beneath the gargantuan young woman’s nude foot.

Nonetheless, even knowing logically that she was an authorized arbiter for “correcting” miniaturized criminals like himself and therefore she couldn’t inflict any lasting physical harm upon him, that knowledge could only do so much to help once Caleb was made to feel like he was literally drowning in a caved-down slab of peachy crease-rife sole flesh more than large enough to swallow him whole. He’d known all about this once-unorthodox method of so-called justice, and had even laughed at the idea of it, compared to spending time in prison. Only now did Caleb learn he’d grossly underestimated what he was in for. So, predictably, he did indeed panic, writhing and hyperventilating like mad. Though this only succeeded in exhausting himself, since Tracy’s foot had him hopelessly pinned, and there was no chance of worming out from under here until she chose to allow it.

The heat of her skin, along with a mild yet still-adherent glaze of leftover night sweat, caused Caleb to cling even tighter to her sole, combined with that precise level of stamping pressure which had practically molded his squirmy two-inch shape against the most pliable underfoot padding. Even as the giantess continued rolling that pressure forward, from her heel to the ball of her foot, her puny target remained just as stuck face-up to her overpowering anatomy. Her toes spread then scrunched tautly together, which in turn deepened the curve of her arch and caused the number of wrinkles adorning the spongy terrain of her flesh to double up. Right when Caleb thought she might be about to pick her foot off the ground and let him come unpeeled, however, she reversed her course and stampeded right back over his immobile form in gentle yet ruthless slow motion again. Pointlessly wriggling anew, he found himself re-ensconced in the same claustrophobia, humid climate, damp pithy sensation, and a creeping aroma like the fusion of now-stagnant floral perfume, citrusy bath wash, and a sweet-and-sour strain of sweaty musk. It was all too much, leaving him feeling more afraid and infuriated than ever in his life, and above all degraded in a way he never could’ve imagined until he was actually shrunken here in the flesh to experience the undersole grind for himself.

In contrast to the mounting strife that Caleb was feeling just from the repeated back-and-forth smushing from her sole upon his easily-manipulated body, Tracy herself was having a great start to the day – a day which, so far, was playing out just as pleasantly and fulfillingly for her as every one for the past year. Having once held what she thought was her dream job, only to lose it when a leering male coworker named Peter had vengefully (and undeservedly) badmouthed her to upper management when she politely turned down his romantic advances, she’d once thought her life was left in shambles: deeply ashamed, wrongfully punished, and unable to support herself through the work she thought she was meant for. But then, almost by random chance, Tracy had stumbled her way into a career path she’d never considered or even heard of before, yet was apparently more than qualified to excel. Now, a year onward, she was making better money, no longer subject to the egos of jealous peers, and maybe best of all – though she hadn’t predicted this bonus – awash in the greatest most-cathartic sense of empowerment she’d ever known. And all by putting shrunken wrongdoers in their place beneath her feet.

“You brought this on yourself, you know,” Tracy calmly stated loudly enough for him to hear, at last breaking her silence, as she carried on manhandling Caleb under her sole. “You can fight back, if it’ll make you feel better. Go on. Keep wiggling like that. Try to push my foot off of you. It won’t change anything. My job is to make sure you learn a lesson, before you get to go back out there in the world. And even though your sentence with me is only supposed to last a month, my report back to your overseers just might make that month turn into longer, depending on whether or not I think you’ve learned. So. If you want me to believe that lesson is sinking in, I suggest you start thinking more about the things you’ve done, and the ways you’ll be different in the future, instead of just how heavy my foot feels on top of you, and how easy it would be for me to squash you until you couldn’t move anymore.”

Though stoic at first, she couldn’t help but crack a wider smile, while a current of goosebumps ran up her limbs. There was a time months before when Tracy felt a twinge of guilt from enjoying this business so personally, but she’d since learned to ignore and even kill that silly instinct. It wasn’t like she’d forced any of her diminutive guests to commit their sins, after all. This was only the rebalancing of right and wrong. And if she just so happened to get a euphoric burst of pride-fueling enjoyment from toying with their pathetic inferior selves in the process, then that was just a happy side-effect.