It is said that there are two kinds of people in this world; those with money, and those without it. For those who have wealth, life becomes a limbo of pleasure and choice. All the finest things the world has to offer are at your disposal, and you feel as if your life is the center of the universe. Sadly money is not an unlimited resource, and more often than not there are those who have none at all.              

               Such was the case with the students who attended Lower city High. Your typical suburban high school located inconveniently in the middle of the poorest section of the city. Flatsburrow, a miserable armpit of a district boxed in by far richer communities. They were so poor that the buildings which bordered them made the entire district look flat by comparison, hence the name.

               Lucia Shoebuckler was just one of many students that day, staring out the window at the shimmering towers just miles away when the message came through the decaying intercom, “Good news students. Thanks to an anonymous donor, we will be having a change in tomorrow’s fieldtrip.”

               “Instead of going to the waste treatment facility. Where let’s face it, almost all of you will end up working anyways. We will be visiting a private estate in one of the inner districts!” Lucia’s eyes lit up, as one of the only students who cared about education, the opportunity excited her. She had always been curious of the outside world, and the giants who inhabited it.

               It was because she knew deep down her place was out there, not inside Flatsburrow wallowing in filth until a drunken giant chucks a glass bottle that crushes your house. For a poor girl like Lucia this was great opportunity, maybe she could make connections and find a job that didn’t involve recycling shit.

               The next day the buses ran extra early. It was the trip of a lifetime; graduates, parents, everyone was scrambling to get on what few buses there were; pulling every string and excuse they could to find to justify coming along. Even the insolvents, normally prey for the poor, leapt at the opportunity and tied themselves to the sides of the bus.

               This was supposed to be the greatest opportunity she’d ever have, a dream come true, but instead it turned out to be a nightmare that ended with her trapped the second she stepped off that bus.

               All around her were rows of metal bar cages filled to the brink with students, on each container was a label, or rather a price tag; four hundred thousand for the group across from them, a million for another. But this wasn’t a shop or an auction, there was no cashier or even some apathetic shopkeeper, no this was a show.   

               All of them were stripped down to the bare essentials and some arranged in elaborate formations. An unlucky few were suspended in the air with string; others were glued, painted, and posed like dolls, while most were simply left to roam. It was so bizarre and perverse, and Lucia was left shaking with fear at the vile intent of her new owners. She wished she could see what monsters did this but a veil of thick cloth covered them.      

               The loud shrill clack of a legion of shoes filled the room, and the sound of screaming and groaning was drowned out by a cascade of voices so powerful in magnitude they shook the very air. It was all so much to take in; all Lucia could do was crawl into a ball and wait knowing her life was in the hands of those cruel cheerful people.

               The room fell silent, then came the singing…

               “Happy Birthday to you…”

               “Happy Birthday to you…”

               Lucia’s eyes went wide, and her body shook uncontrollably. The reason why she was kidnapped, the field trip, everything; it was all so clear now.

               “Happy Birthday Siesta… Happy Birthday to you.”

                The cloth was lifted, both literally and figuratively; leaving her naked, shivering in shock, and clinging to the nearest person as a group of twenty girls with faces the size of moons stared down at them with amused condescending smiles large enough to swallow a man whole. Their enormous fingers massaging the space between the bars in a desperate bid to drag one of them out of there.

               “So lucky! Look at the prices, so expensive!”

               “My family sucks! All I got for my 18th was a car”

               “Can we have some?”

               They cried like spoiled children, between forkfuls of ‘birthday caviar’ and prime cut lamb; each one downing enough food to feed Lucia’s entire family for weeks; laughing at the circus of damned souls in the center of their dinner table, while a staff of apathetic maids and butlers served them increasingly elaborate portions.

               All the girls were gorging themselves, except for one, a young looking petite girl with blonde and red dyed hair at the head of the table with a metal tiara atop her spoiled little head, who modestly refrained from eating and instead chose to survey the gross spectacle in front of her.

               “Hmmm, I don’t know…” she teased in a refined girlish tone “I really wanted to play with all of them.”

               “Pleeease,” they begged in unison, “Do it for your friends!”

               The table went silent, and even the stoic waiters shivered with anticipation; Siesta Mobile was the wealthiest and most powerful girl there, Lucia’s lifeline hung on the weight of her word.

               Siesta smiled and waved her hand, “Oh’kay. I guess you all can have one cage, but only because I’m such a good friend, right?”

               The blood drained from Lucia’s face, and tears streamed down her face; this was why she had been brought here, to become a meager piece of property to be traded by the idle rich. It was too much for her to handle, she just wanted to go home, forget becoming rich; she might have been poor but at least her life had dignity.

               The girls fumbled and drooled over the cages like wild animals snatching up them up one at a time until there were only a few left, ripping the bars apart with their bare hands, before grabbing a person at random and dragging them out of the cage.

               “Cheers.” They said again in unison, each one raising the person above their heads like a glass of fine wine, “Now let’s eat.”

               The normal human reaction would be to look away, but Lucia needed closure; these were likely her final moments, and she would be damned if they were spent in ignorance. And so she watched, unblinking, as a husky girl with large luscious lips rolled her tongue out like a sticky pink rug and ran it against the shivering half naked boy in her hand. Bulling, whipping, and pressing him into the soft blunt tip of her tongue as he struggled against her firm plump fingers.

               Hot bubbling saliva covered his skin, soaking into his clothes as she absentmindedly sampled his flesh, occasionally kneading his thigh between a row of teeth the size of watermelons. Biting down just hard enough to feel his toothpick of a bone against her jaw, but not enough to crack it; blushing as the leathery bumps of her tongue immodestly forced his legs apart and brushed against his crotch.

               He wept and cursed, “Why? What the hell did I do to you?”  

               She could see his fear and understood his predicament, but simply didn’t care; in fact she loved it. Eating an impoverished person, a man, someone who she could have loved and be loved by, worshiped even, ending his life just to satisfy a carnal craving; for her it must have felt divine.

               Which made his resistance annoying; she frowned and squeezed her burly nails against his chest, cutting off his breathing, “Nothing.” She whispered, amused at the notion of needing a reason in the first place, “I just find trash like you… unsightly.”

               His last moments were spent squirming between two fingers, clawing at a massive hunk of skin and muscle with the girth of a telephone pole while pressed into a sloppy stain of saliva as she cocked her head back and raised him over her glittered lips; salty lukewarm breathe crystalizing spit against his waterlogged skin. Before releasing him with the pulse of a vein; he tumbled at least 20 feet, sliding off her bottom lip before plummeting into the dark depths of her throat and swallowed instantly like a pill.

               Lucia cried for him. She didn’t even know his name, but she had seen him before, Playing, talking in the halls, eating lunch; all those memories and good times silenced by a slightly round-bellied girl with an appetite.

               her heart raced a million beats a second, she was so afraid it was making her sick, or perhaps it was the fact someone just died; either way between the tears, shakes, and stress she felt herself slipping in and out of mental shock. It was a warzone out there, with men and women being torn apart like common food items.

               Another face appeared, this time a middle-aged maid with flowing black hair. Her soft hands gripped the side of her cage and lifted it off the lavish table spread. For a brief moment Lucia thought she was saved, until the maid placed them directly in front of Siesta whose piercing apathetic green eyes carried such gravitas it made death seem trivial.

                “Hello,” she greeted with a warm smile, “I have so many plans for you, not all of them very pleasant,” she paused taking a moment to scan the crowd, “but survivable... Sooo, a bit better than my friends yeah?”

                Lucia looked deep into those emerald green eyes, and for some reason her fear faded away; maybe it was just her adrenaline talking, but that serene look of innocence in Siesta’s eyes, the questionable lack of malice; it was concerning and relieving at the same time.

               “I can’t guarantee all of you will survive, but I’m like, really just; so work hard, amuse me, and if you endure I’ll give you more wealth than you could’ve ever scrapped together in the ghetto.”

               The black-haired maid appeared over her right shoulder, “This is my servant Eveline, and she shall preside over you.”

               Siesta stood to her full height and smiled down at them, long wavy locks of gold and red hair flowed down her scrawny shoulders settling along the curves of her modest breasts, “Your first challenge begins in a few hours. Expect losses.”

               They were loaded onto a cart, and shipped like cargo up the stairs, and into a bedroom twice the length of her school. In the center was a wood frame bed fit for royalty, draped in hand-sewn embroidered silk curtains and bed sheets. On either side was a mountain of stuffed animals next to a symmetrical pair of dressers with a gigantic dollhouse near a stained glass window. It was a picture of luxury, and she was now part of it; just one of the many possessions left to rot while their owner plays house with her guests.

               Lucia wished she could just wither up and die, but fate had other plans.

               Suddenly, a whip cracked against the metal bars. It was Eveline, the stern maid, who with one finger undid the locks on the cage doors; releasing them.

               At first nobody knew what to do, in front of them stood a monolith of a woman, about half the size of Siesta, wielding what could only be described as a mix between a riding crop and a flyswatter. The implications were frightening, “Ms. Mobile will be arriving shortly, and I am tasked with disciplining you,” She said waltzing back and forth, “And although I take no pleasure in doing so, any attempts at resistance will be met with lethal repercussions.”

               The blood-stained stick made it clear enough, to the point that even the least educated dimwitted hood-rat amongst them could understand, “Your first challenge is simple, hide and seek.” Said Eveline with sly grin, “The game will proceed for ten minutes, and begins the moment Siesta walks into this room” the entire crowd turned towards the door on the other side of the room, “Hide successfully and survive. Fail and you will die…”

               Before Eveline finished her speech half the cage had already hurdled themselves onto the floor and began to scatter in a fury of desperation; Men, woman, boys, and girls alike clawing and trampling each other like cornered animals. Husbands abandoned their wives, the weak were shoved into the ground; even the teachers, bound by duty, were just as cruel as the students. Lucia was no exception; having already grown up in a tough neighborhood, she was far too proud to accept death.

               Her mind flew into a frenzy as she ran, or rather stumbled, over the mass of students and across the carpeted floor; whipping her eyes across the endless expanse in an attempt to locate the best possible hiding spot. It was no use; each possible spot was just as predictable as the last. That’s when she realized that in order to win; she needed to think like her foe. So she asked herself one simple question. Where is the last place anyone would look?

               Down.

               It was an insane plan based on a hunch, something so stupid and suicidal that it couldn’t possibly work, and that was exactly what she hoped Siesta would think. And so she ran, across what seemed like miles of carpet, up to the towering wooden door; and not a moment too soon, she could already hear the pitter-patter of footsteps in the distance.

               She wasn’t alone. At least four other people joined her in the suicide march, forming a small separate brigade further back from the door which suddenly burst open; a gigantic heel landing inches from Lucia, sending her sprawling to the floor.

               In front of her was a wall of leather and muscle, suspended atop a long curved platform, balanced on a thick plastic shank thicker than her torso. Her heart raced out of control, sweat dripping down her face, arms shaking, lips quivering. If Siesta had stepped even slightly more to the left, her entire body would have been gone.

               She was now face to face with the side of the heel, so close that she could lean forward and kiss it. The curving slightly dirty shoe creaked and groaned as thousands of tons of girl barreled down into it;  dry plump skin around her arch stretching smooth, turning lighter in colour around the edges where flesh met leather.  

               Lucia took a deep breath and tried to calm herself down, but it was no use; the sheer enormity of her captor was awe-inspiring. Especially those tone slender legs, like gigantic pale columns attached to an even larger skirt-clad monument; they were so tall Lucia needed to crane her neck and squint just to make out the tops of her thighs which ended where a pair of tight fitting black panties began.

               Siesta was overwhelming, but even more so was the realization that her plan had worked. Lucia was right between her legs, just one misstep from a gruesome death, and yet she went entirely unnoticed.

               After all, the last place you’d look for an insect is right under your feet.

               “Ugh. Your no fun.” pouted Siesta, rolling her eyes at the group gathered by the door, “Where’s the suspense, hmmm? Entertain me!”  

               They pleaded for mercy, getting on hand and knee, but it was no use; judging by the cheerful smile on their giant captors face it was obvious no amount of begging would change her mind.  Siesta took a step forward, then swung her other leg high into the sky; a gigantic snow white high heel swinging forward like a pendulum; her tone thighs tightened like the strings of a bow as she positioned herself above the first victim, a member of the faculty.

               “Gotta admit, I’m a bit disappointed… I was expecting more of a challenge. Oh well, I guess breaking you is fun in its own sort of way.”

               In his defense the man made a stellar case, unfortunately the only thing listening at that point was a clean brownish-tan rubber outsole which moments later slammed into him with the force of a train. Lucia almost vomited, his body was pushed to the floor then pounded flat in a matter of milliseconds; a pool of blood dribbling out in front of the long curved edge of her shoe where a massive rubber platform, crowned by two toes, each one lovingly adorned in a dry layer of dark blue nail polish, idly rested atop his broken body.

               In life the man was a teacher, an important figure with a wife and a family, but to Siesta, he was just a target; little more than a squawking little blip the size of bug. Of course, being so wealthy and large, that’s how she probably saw everyone poorer than her. Especially since they all end up the same; indistinguishable shoe ornaments, in the form of blackened red stains, stuck against the rubber treads of her shoes.

               “Tsk, Boring. C’mon people scram, at least give me a moving target!”

               The remainders scattered away; having changed their minds after seeing just how cruel Siesta could be, “Yes! Now we’re getting somewhere,” she cheered, raising her other foot.

               Escape was impossible; in a single step she covered more distance than the best sprinters in her class. All Lucia could do was watch with awe as she took a step forward into the first man, landing her foot on him like a plane, and knocking him to the floor. A moment later he was gone, smeared into a little red line along the carpet with a wet sounding crack.

               The other two fled in completely different directions, one of them foolishly attempting to confuse her by zig-zagging across the carpet. It didn’t work, she simply swung her leg around, and pounded him with the shaft of her heel; crushing his torso like a walnut.

               The final man, a heavy-set guy with long hair, she caught beneath the very tip of her shoe. But rather than kill him immediately, Siesta chose to stare down at him with a patient smile, giving him time to panic and catch his breath.

               “Wow, your friends SUCKED at hiding,” Mocked Siesta, “And here I was thinking that you impoverished boys would offer a challenge.”

               “Like, why bother killing you, there’s no sport in it, Ya’know! Hmm, but mother did pay for you… decisions, decisions.”

                 Her toes scrunched together with anticipation, the plushy bottoms of each massive digit turning white from the pressure. She licked her lips and smiled, “I’ll tell you what, I’m going to give you a choice.” his face lit up, “I could… have a little fun and crush your limbs one by one,” only to warp into an expression of pure terror, “Or… You can put you head right here, and I’ll end it sweetly.” She said stretching her toes apart, exposing a small worn section of her insole just large enough for him to cram into.

               Siesta’s foot was a behemoth of shoe, skin, and nail; even the smallest of her toes dwarfed his pathetic body. The sides of her shoe bulged outward, strips of leather thicker than his forearms bending as they struggled to contain a plump gently curved mass of grooved skin and tight rigid muscle; which shined with a deceptively beautiful glitter, until one realizes that’s just sweat and bits of lint clinging to her radiant peach coloured skin.

               The man shook like an abandoned animal in the cold; he could barely hold himself together. She was so cruel, and didn’t even realize it; for her this probably seemed like an act of mercy.

               “I only offer this as a courtesy. You served your purpose, so I’ll try and make it as painless as possible.”

               Like the teacher he tried to beg, bargain, and appeal. But once again, Siesta was having none of it. It got to the point where he was offering body parts, trying to negotiate his way from death, down to horrible disfigurement. It was pathetic; Lucia had no sympathy for him, and neither did Siesta, who looked like someone had finished telling her a bad joke.

               “Did you know that it takes around half a second to take a single step?”

               He screamed and cried, trying to crawl away, only for her to press down and break his ankle.

               “My family makes around three hundred a second, and of that I inherit at least eighty.”

               Exhaustion kicked in, and the gravity of the situation was finally beginning to dawn; he was going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it. This girl, who wouldn’t look out of place in a boarding school, or some Victorian era novel, was about to claim his life…

               “Which means each step I take is worth around forty dollars.”

               She pressed down harder, and twisted her foot; his arms flailing madly as a muffled wet pop echoed across the room, “In your case. Per individual, we paid about twenty-five dollars.”

               “So, even if I wanted to save you, even if this was all an accident. Why bother, you’re literally not worth my time.”

               … Not just out of contempt or her perverted need to emphasize her own superiority; but because everything he was, or ever would be, was worth less than the effort it would take for her to simply lift her foot off his crushed body. When you look at it like that, could anybody really blame Siesta?

               At this point the man was broken, and mumbling madly; trying to convince himself this was all a lie. But in the end, he found resolve, and with teary eyes wider and sadder than any she’d ever seen in her life he limped up to those towering legs of hers, crawled into the peep-toe, and placed his head and torso on the worn caramel coloured insole.

                “Now the look on your face… that’s Priceless!”

               With those terrible words she brought the full weight of her big toe down like a sledgehammer, pinning him beneath a coarse rubbery slate of soft plump skin before scrunching the rest of her toes; each one curved around his body, cramming him between her hard brawny sole and the darkened scratched wooden insole. Then in a second it was over, the weight of her body was distributed to every inch of his; cutting off all breathing before flattening his skull.