It’s nine thirty AM on a Tuesday and Alicia is studying. 

She is a graduate student in a research-based program. She’s barely burdened by classes, but frequently has to carefully search literature. Her office is way too crowded most of the time, so she chose to come to the library instead. Study rooms are isolated and quiet. Nobody’s going to bother her, nobody’s going to interfere - that is, unless she wanted it so.

Her phone is on top of her desk right next to her laptop. The screen is brightly lit; there is a Dicecord conversation open. The last messages were sent yesterday night, and they tell a story of a peculiar, unusual agreement between two people. Alicia can barely focus on her work: her eyes constantly wander either to the phone screen, or towards the door. The latter is made of solid wood, but has a vertical grained glass window in it. Through the glass, she can see silhouettes of the people wandering around the library halls looking for available study rooms. It’s exam season. But she’s come here early to claim hers. 

With a sigh, she looks away from the door and checks time, then almost picks up her phone... almost. Now she’s looking at the laptop screen again. She picks up her pen...

The door opens. Alicia’s frozen for a second. She finds it in herself to look up as the door closes back. Except now there’s a young man standing in front of her desk. He’s a freshman; she knows as much. He’s also very tall. Well, most people are tall compared to Alicia’s measly 4’9”, but this guy is almost touching the ceiling with his head - must be at least six and four. He’s carrying a backpack. 

“Hi”, she manages to blurt out, as the guy walks around the desk. He has a wide, friendly face. He’s smiling. He has shiny white teeth, good skin and and athletic build - a very handsome man indeed. His hand briefly reaches into a pocket of his shorts to produce a silvery, pointed device, the very sight of which makes Alicia tremble. 

“Hello, Ali!” - he exclaims and smirks. 

He walks up to her chair, lays a hand on her shoulder and easily pushes her forward. Off the chair. Towards the desk - or, rather, the space under the desk. Alicia sinks, unable to resist; she weakly protests, but is incapable of fighting his strength. 

“Down you go”, he’s cooing, “just like that”.

It’s a large desk with a closed front. Alicia’s forced onto the floor. The guy nudges her to move a bit before sitting down on the chair; he casually sweeps all of her stuff on the very edge of the desk and plops his own backpack on top. As he sits down, Alicia finds herself right next to his legs. She’s looking down, towards his feet, clad in leather flip-flops. 

He moves his chair forward, forcing her to back up - and the only direction is deeper under the desk. Alicia’s blushing heavily as she is scrambling to get herself under there. The handsome athlete, who’s at least four years younger than her, is getting comfortable in the chair he’s so unceremoniously taken from her. 

Without having any second thoughts, he lifts his legs a bit to reposition them. She hears him giggle as his large feet swing forward. The dusty soles of his flip-flops crash into her chest, forcing her on her back. Alicia lets out a barely audible squeal as she is easily overpowered. Immediately, his right foot slides forward along her body before coming to rest on top of her face, entirely obscuring the view in her left eye and mostly so in the right. She feels the coarse grains of sand on the bottom of his shoe scrape against her skin. The thick sole squishes her nose and lips as her face for the moment becomes its resting place. In the meantime, the other foot happily grinds on her chest for a bit before she feels the weight go away: the guy has just pulled his foot out of the flip-flop, leaving the shoe in place. 

“Hands”, she hears him say, and raises her arms to find his hot, sweaty sole. It comes down on her tummy, sinking into it, while she’s still holding on it. Her laughably thin, small fingers get to work, rubbing the young man’s foot. Somewhere high above, he gets his textbooks out and prepares for a study session of his own with Alicia providing extra entertainment and comfort. He grinds his right foot for a bit on top of her head, before sliding it even further forward and using her forehead to take this flip-flop off, too. His foot then goes back, now bare; it once again assumes its regal position atop her face. 

Alicia’s stuck. Short as she is, there’s still barely enough space under the desk for her to fit - especially with the man’s legs being there, too. He tries to get comfortable, and he does so at the cost of the space she has; he pushes against her with both feet. The woman is pushed against the inner wall of the desk, into the very corner. She’s compressed; her posture is awkward, her clothes in a state of total mess. 

She’s still trying to rub his left foot when he takes it off her belly and moves it to her chest instead, squishing her breasts and forcing the air out of her lungs. Her hands follow, caressing and rubbing the imperious ped. The other sole obscures most of her vision, but not all of it, so she has a bit of a view on his lower legs and, of course, feet themselves. Wide, meaty, masculine, they pose a stark contrast to her petite form - to everything she is, really. What’s most important to her is how large they are. How comically small her hands are compared to these feet, which smother her underneath the desk. 

She hears faint music somewhere above, then feels his feet start tapping to the rhythm right on top of her. It continues for a bit before his right foot moves again - it briefly leaves her face. A second later, thick toes start drumming on her lips. Alicia opens her mouth and the toes are rammed in. The other foot pressed on her chest hard before moving to her face, too; now both massive soles are in some way on top of it. She can’t see. She’s sucking feverishly on the toes in her mouth; they taste dusty, salty and musky, an unmistakably masculine taste. The nails are scraping against the top. 

The door opens. Alicia freezes for a second, even though she knows she can’t be seen under the closed desk. A male voice asks: 

"Hey... hey, wait, wasn’t there a girl here?"

"I don’t know," the man who’s trampling Alicia replies.

"Have you seen her leave?"

"Nope. Maybe she’s hiding under the desk?"

Both guys giggle. Alicia’s tongue is swirling between the toes.

The door closes.

The left foot leaves her face, giving her sight back. The girl’s gaze meets that of her master. He’s pulled out the silvery item again; it’s pointed at her. He’s grinning. 

“You’ll have to work harder”, he tells her as he presses a button.

It’s a minimizer. Alicia starts quickly dwindling in size, but he never takes his toes out of her mouth. They grow bigger, quickly filling the available space. Alicia’s tongue is painfully trapped between two of them, her cheeks are stretched, she almost chokes... and then he takes his foot off. The girl curls up on the floor, her height around two feet.

“Bench”, he orders. Silently, Alicia picks herself up and stands on all fours, curling her back. The man chuckles as he crosses his long legs in ankles and rests them on her back, making the girl whimper under the weight. 

Then, she has time to think.

She knows him, but she doesn’t really. He’s in her class. That is, in the class she is teaching. He wants an A. She wants... a lot, and the important bit is that he knows what she wants. Small, mousy teaching assistant likes to be reduced to a shrunken footslut, barely useful as a rug. And he’s made full use of it. 

How’s it come to this? She isn’t sure. She was charmed, she gave into her darkest desires. She’s at his whim now. She dreams of his godly feet toying with her; her knees are weak every time she sees him. He’s got her. 

After about half an hour, of the corner of her eye, she notices him reaching under the table with the shinking device once again. The button is pressed. Without even looking at her, he shrinks her further - the feet leave her back as she dwindles to no more than several inches. Before the process even comes to an end, his feet attack. Alicia ducks to her side, but to no avail as the massive ped collides with her, sending her sprawling on her back. 

It’s hovering right next to her as she tries to stand up - but it doesn’t let her, immediately knocking her back down. There are bruises on her knees and elbows. Another foot comes from the opposite direction, lightly kicking Alicia; the girl rolls several real world inches. She opens her teary eyes and her gaze is greeted by quickly descending sole. Alicia screams before the wall of flesh smothers, sending waves of pain and pleasure down her tiny body. 

The foot lifts, then falls again. A stomp is followed by another stomp. It repeats, again and again, until he grows bored of this, but he wants more of the idle playing. She’s never left alone - he kicks her around, smothers her, pushes her, traps her under his toes and drags around like a doll. She’s at his mercy. She enjoys it, and hates herself for that. 

Finally, she’s presented with his feet resting on their rough heels.

“Lick”, she hears an order, and crawls towards the feet; she approaches them and leans in, dragging her tongue along sweaty, smelly skin again and again. His toes far above her wiggle in pleasure. She likes it, she almost feels pride, which is an improvement since earlier days, when she could only feel shame.

“My girlfriend will come here soon. I’m sure you won’t mind. Just play along. She’ll pick you up and we’ll unshrink you later in the day”.

Alicia almost cries. How could he tell someone else? How could he involve other people in this?

How could he have a girlfriend?

He leaves soon; its preceded by the door opening again. Someone enters. Someone greets him with “Justin!” in an excited feminine voice. He puts his flip-flops on and leaves, and someone takes his place. She has long, beautiful legs, and wears black and white Nike sneakers. The legs are immediately extended in Alicia’s direction. The tiny girl looks towards the floor as she feels someone’s burning gaze studying her intently. 

“You really exist, bitch”, she hears. “Damn... How’d you like my boyfriend’s feet, huh?”

Alicia can’t reply. She’s presented with hard rubber soles. 

“Ew. I don’t want to look at you. Clean my shoes for me while I study now. Also, Justin told me to put you in one of them when I’m ready to leave...”

With tears on her face, Alicia stuck out her tongue.

Justin did end up with an A that semester.