Exposed as the day he was born, and obviously filthy, the tiny man between August’s toes was flushed the same hot-and-rank rose hue as his presumable owner’s naked foot. Most of his upper body was clenched in the fleshy crevice between her largest digits, while his lower half hung limply from the undersides, though he was definitely alive, as his limbs squirmed like an overturned beetle’s.
Rachel’s first instinct was to question what the hell was happening, but once the memory of her bizarre day caught up yet again, and confirmed that this sight was wholly possible, she instead readjusted her expectations, and simply replied in her calmest timbre: “Who is that?”
“His name is Dylan,” August said pleasantly. She wriggled her toes in a wave pattern, but made sure her big and second digits moved in unison, which kept the shrunken thing from getting a single whiff of clean air or reprieve from the muscular toe-hold. “It’s funny you ask. I haven’t said his name aloud in a couple years. You kind of forget, once you have one of these for long enough.”
“One of… these?”
“You know, one of these little critters who make such nice passengers for your shoes. Look, I know you’re just being a professional by not coming out with it, which I completely understand, but let’s just say for the sake of hypothetical, I know that you have Sam Bennett inside your shoe right now,” August continued. She opened flexed and scrunched her sole, which increased the organic roller coaster upon which Dylan was imprisoned.
Both lawyers, steely as ever, remained just as cool and collected. August, at least, had visibly relaxed, now that her foot was unsheathed and her dirty little secret freely dangled from her toes victory flag-style.
“Hypothetically, then…” Rachel sighed. She rocked her pump back and forth under the desk, working Sam hard against her sole, until he came within a minute. “What is it you’d want from me or any persons I may or may not have met with?”
“Nothing at all, Rachel, except to say welcome to the club.”
“The club?”
“Not officially, but you could certainly call us a community.”
“And what exactly is this community?”
“Just a group of women with access to unique tools who wish to rebalance the sexes as they were intended,” August rattled off easily as the weather. “You may not have known any of this was possible before today, but there are hundreds of us who stand in support of one another. I was new at one point, just like you. So was Larissa. We’re in the company of professional women across the world: CEOs, teachers, doctors, flight attendants, librarians, city councilors… you would be surprised just how far we reach.”
“That’s an understatement.”
“I’m not here to force you to join us in our goals. We’re not a cult. Shrinking men and wearing them in our shoes isn’t some end-all-be-all. You can just think of it as a way of aiding the cause while you go about your life however best suits you,” August continued. She reached over the desk, pinched Dylan between her thumb and index, and peeled him out from between her spongy toes. The pitiful pet hung upside-down from her elegant fingers as she withdrew her foot, and seemed to proffer Dylan in Rachel’s direction. “But if you’re willing to trust me, I could get Mr. Bennett started off on the right foot for you. I’m sure he’s not having a great time down there, especially if Larissa taught you the “moisturizer” trick for him, but I’ve had much more experience. Years, in fact. If you’d like to trade off with me for a few nights, I assure you I could have him ready to serve as your lifelong foot slave by next week. Granted, he won’t be willing, but he will be ready to become yours.
Overwhelmed by the influx of information, and more than a little titillated by some of it, Rachel adjusted her position in her swivel chair. The idea of permanently keeping Sam had crossed her mind, of course, though not seriously until now. Upon discovering their situation was no anomaly, though, the possibility of turning Sam’s punishment into a life sentence seemed possible. Maybe even probable. With all he’d done to those women over the years, surely he had earned himself at least a single lifetime under one of the very feet he’d sought to abuse for his sick purposes.
Rachel crossed her leg over its opposite, smoothed back a few stray hairs, and lifted her glasses just high enough for a short-sided glance at the pathetic shrinker being offered as a substitute. Whatever Dylan had done, Rachel instinctively trusted that he deserved this; August’s demeanor had compelled her with sorcery stronger than any spells she could read off a paper. Perhaps it would be useful to have another little man as a point of comparison, to truly understand this rebalancing of the sexes business August had mentioned. After all, she was part of the club now.
“Okay. And, just for the sake of hypothetical…” Rachel drawled, though she was already pulling her shoe off, and preparing to shimmy the nylon off her leg to retrieve Sam. “…why would you want to help me specifically?”
“Well, for one thing, us gals need to stick together, don’t we?” August said sardonically, snickering with Rachel over her wording, before her expression turned cold and focused just as quickly. “And for another thing, that little shit-stain of a man cheated the judicial system. I can’t just stand by and let that happen. Especially for someone who loves a good foot as much as he does. Who would I be to deprive him the pleasure?”
When Sam noticed Rachel’s shoe pulling away from her weary foot, followed by the unpeeling of the nylon, he was feeling drained from the inside out, but determined. He was ready to fold. Whatever it took for him to say, he’d say it, as long as it meant staying out of Rachel’s shoe. His pride and dignity had been subtracted until there was none left; if this kept up, his insides would be depleted as well. By now, his body was liable to cum if his dick so much as brushed a woman’s toenail. So, as the stocking was unstuck from her sole, leaving Sam adhered momentarily to the surface, he already had his hands prayerfully clasped as Rachel’s palm came to collect him from beneath her ped.
“I’M SORRY!” he bellowed, knowing how pitiful it must’ve sounded coming from an inch-tall man. As he was raised up to the level of the desk, Sam didn’t even notice the blonde woman across the desk, in favor of intense laser-sight attention to Rachel. He’d been practicing this speech for hours now. This was his one shot, for all the marbles. It had to look genuine. “I’m sorry, FOR EVERYTHING! I… see now that I was wrong to put people… women… down, and to pressure them into things they shouldn’t have been. I understand what you’ve been doing here was to make me see what it’s like to feel powerless next to someone with power. Right? That was the idea, yeah? I don’t pretend to like it. You must know how much I hated it, and how much I wanted to make you pay today… I’m not stupid enough to deny that, when you must be able to guess it. But I see now, finally, that I am not blameless. I made mistakes, misguided and accidental. And then I made decisions too, which were even worse, because I was conscious of it. For all that, I deserve consequences greater than those I received in the past. Today, I’ve gotten what’s coming to me, and at last I can see more clearly than ever that I-”
“Are you getting bored of this yet, Rachel?” August interrupted. Her sharp-tongued snark turned Sam docile; had he noticed her sooner, he might have started screaming for help.
But upon hearing her speak, and recognizing the same kind of casual disregard for his shrunken wellbeing that he’d heard from Rachel all day, if not even more heartless, he quickly shut up.
“Just a little bit bored. I was curious to see where he was going, though,” Rachel replied. She grinned, and cocked her head at the little man in her palm. “You know, in case he whipped up some tears. That would definitely earn him a few brownie points, I think. Or at least an Academy Award. Sorry, Sam. I would’ve believed it if you weren’t such a conniving little snake who just says whatever is required to get out of trouble. Seriously, not even one tear?”
“Believe me, it gets old. Most of the boys I’ve had in my shoes and stockings cry eventually. The smart ones will wait a while to do it, so it looks like they’ve really changed. It’s very convincing. Not that it works on me, of course,” August said. She reached over to Rachel’s cupped hand and prodded her middle finger at Sam’s bare back. “After the performances this one gave at the hearings, I think you can expect plenty of theatrical apologies. You’ll get used to it. After a while, he’ll realize it doesn’t help his case, either, and just get back to doing what he does best.”
“Which is what, again?”
“Getting stepped on, of course.”