My fingers tremble as I buckle the thin pewter strap around my ankle. I’d never really worried about whether a slim stiletto heel could hold all my weight until I had a small man taped to the arch of my shoe. I stand up slowly and carefully. At first, I thought the plan was crazy. Now I fear it’s dangerous.
When the FBI approached me about gathering evidence from my boss’s office, I told them it would be impossible. Security is tight. Admittedly, if they had begun by telling me they could shrink a man and that they wanted me to smuggle him in on the bottom of my shoe, I would have told them that was impossible, too.
I don’t doubt that my boss is guilty of whatever they suspect. He’s a dick. But what if we get caught? What if the guy falls off and I step on him? The agent looks to be the age of my father, so chances are he has a family. I can’t bear the thought of smooshing him.
And yet, I begin walking.
“Walk naturally,” the normal-sized agent tells me. “Security will know something is wrong if you walk like that.”
Sure. Let me strap a miniature human to your foot and see if you walk naturally.
I manage to smooth out my stride as I walk away from their unmarked van. Just before I exit the parking garage, I pause and lift my foot. He’s still there, and he gives me a forced smile. I put my foot back down and take a deep breath. Then I head out across the street to the office building.
When I get to security, I scan my badge, drop my purse into the inspection box, step into the body scanner, and raise my hands above my head. I’m not thrilled to think about what the security officers can see through my clothes. At least they let us keep our shoes on.
After they waive me on, I head straight to the elevators. My heels sound a thousand times louder on the marble floor today.
As the elevator approaches my floor, I take another deep breath. By the time the doors open, I have a smile on my face, and I strut out onto the executive level like I own it. When I get to my desk, I check my boss’s agenda for the day and head into his office.
“Good morning, sir.”
“Good morning, Violet,” he says as he looks me up and down. “You look especially perky today. That dress fits you well.”
“Thank you,” Sir Asshole.
Shortly after I sit down in front of his desk, my right shoe begins moving slightly.
Once we get through his schedule and the arrangements I need to make, it takes all of my willpower not to look down as I stand up and walk out. I would know if I stepped on him, right? There would have been a little crunch or something?
As soon as I’m back at my desk, I sit down, swing one leg over the other, and sneak a look at the bottom of my shoe. I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath this whole time, but I finally let it out. I have other work to do.
I go back into my boss’s office numerous times throughout the day. Each time, I sit down and wait for a tap on my toes. That’s the signal that the agent is about to reattach.
However, the signal doesn’t come until mid-afternoon. After I feel the touch (and it’s a rather long touch), my shoe moves for a while. I assume he’s back on when it stops moving.
It startles me a moment later when something grabs my toe. The little guy is lucky I don't jump out of my chair.
I fight the urge to look down as I feel my big toe being pushed up by tiny hands. What the hell?!? I lift it up. Then he pushes up on my second toe, so I lift up all my toes. I find it very difficult to sit still as he crawls underneath them.
Not sure what to do, I gently lay my toes down on top of the small man. It surprises me how warm his body feels against my cool toes. It feels... nice, but I start to panic at the thought of having to walk with him there, especially since I think his head is directly underneath my big toe.
I have no idea what my boss has been saying, but it’s clear when he suddenly dismisses me. I stand up as slowly and gingerly as I can.
“Violet, you okay?”
“Err. Yes, sir. I just got a cramp in my leg.”
The pervert practically leaps across his desk. “I’d be happy to massage it for you.”
“Um. No thank you, sir,” I say as I begin walking out very ungracefully. “I’ll be fine.”
Undeterred, he calls after me, “I’m happy to help if you change your mind. I could cancel my next appointment so that we wouldn’t be rushed.”
“That won’t be necessary, sir.” I do everything I can not to squash the little man with each step. It’s hard not to put pressure on my toes when wearing high heels.
As soon as I get out, I delicately (and rather awkwardly) walk to the bathroom.
After locking the door, I sit on the toilet and lift my toes. Before the little man fully extracts himself, I scream, “What the HELL were you thinking?!? Are you TRYING to get yourself killed?!?”
The little agent motions for me to pick him up. I reach down and let him crawl onto my hand. He feels so fragile as I slowly lift him to my ear.
He squeaks out, “I couldn’t get the tape to hold me.”
“Seriously?”
“I’m sorry. We never checked that it would hold me a second time.”
I bring him in front of my glaring eyes. The poor guy nearly falls over when my massive red lips scold him: “You’re telling me that your agency is smart enough to shrink a person, but not to check that their tape is sticky enough?!?” He looks down sheepishly, but says nothing.
“I’ll get the scotch tape from my desk.”
“We tried that kind of tape, but I always fell off after a few steps.”
Evidently my shoes aren’t the first he’s been taped to.
“So what’s the plan? How am I going to get you out of here? In my mouth?”
“We tried that, too, but it won’t work. I couldn't breathe and my handler nearly killed me when she tried talking. I’ll just lay under your toes.”
“Don’t you think they’ll check my shoes the moment I hobble into security?”
“Then just walk naturally.”
I feel my anger rising. “If I could do it without snapping your little body with my toes, then I would!”
I brood silently, staring at the little man in my hand as I try to come up with a better plan.
Nothing comes to me. “Fine! We'll try to make this work. But you can’t put your head under my big toe this time.”
“Whatever you say.”
“You realize there's no place for you to hide in here, so you’re going to have stay under my toes for the next hour and a half?”
“I’ll be fine.”
Idiot. But I’m responsible for protecting him.
After lowering him to the floor, I take another deep breath (I’ve done a lot of those today, haven’t I?), and I lift my toes. Instead of lying face down this time, the man lies face up. He pushes his feet under my little toe. As I slowly lower my toes, his face fits into the gap between my big toe and second toe.
I practice walking back and forth across the bathroom. I find that if I scrunch my toes, they wrap him tightly in the crevice at their bases, and then I can actually put a little weight on the tips.
“Are you okay down there?” One of my toes lifts a little as he pops his hand out and gives me a thumbs up.
I head back out to my desk and sit down.
The man remains remarkably still. If I sit still and focus, I can feel his chest rising and falling, pushing up on my toes with each breath. His breath tickles the sensitive skin between my first two toes.
I’m rather surprised to say that it doesn’t take long for me to get used to the feeling of a little man under my toes, and I get absorbed in my work.
However, my attention returns to the agent when he starts moving around. The poor guy probably didn’t plan on being plastered to my toes when he went to work today. I wiggle and stretch my toes over him to give him some fresh air.
The next time he moves, his movement is oddly... rhythmic? And it’s only under my middle toe. He stops the instant I stretch to give him some more fresh air.
After a little while, his movement starts back up again. If it weren't so ridiculous, I’d think he was jerking off. I reposition my toes, and the movement stops again. This is crazy! Does he think I don’t notice?
I wait...
Sure enough, he starts it up again. I sit stunned as the little man pleasures himself under my toes.
This whole situation is so crazy that I decide to give in to the crazy. I scrunch my smaller toes and press the painted tips in between his legs. He stops moving again, but I keep going. I can feel his hard manhood as I grind it beneath my middle toe.
As I rub the tiny agent’s face between my first two toes, I feel his breathing quicken. I can’t help smiling as he begins to writhe. His body suddenly arches... and then just as quickly turns to mush. He practically melts into my toes.
I sit there staring at my computer screen. A just gave a guy an orgasm under my desk by wiggling my toes! And I liked it.
For the final hour of my workday, I do practically nothing but sit and enjoy the feeling of the little man breathing under my toes.
By the time the day is over, it feels natural to walk with the agent curled up underneath me.
As people cram into the elevator on the way down, I take delight in the little secret I have nestled beneath my toes. That is, until someone knocks the badge off the guy next to me. After bending over to pick it up, his eyes are as wide as saucers. He glances back down at my feet. I look down and see an arm hanging out from under my toes. I scrunch them to pull it back under, then I look him squarely in the eyes, grin, and put a finger to my lips: “Shhhh.” When the elevator doors open, I step out like nothing happened.
No one raises an alarm when I get scanned and searched, but I still break into a dash to the parking garage as soon as I clear the doors. The other agent is waiting when I reach their van.
I unbuckle my shoe and slide my foot out, but the little agent sticks to my toes until I wiggle them and he falls off. Surprisingly, the other agent doesn’t ask why he was in my shoe, not taped to it. She just confirms that he got what he needed and then hands me an envelope of cash. Before we part ways, the little agent plants a long kiss on the top of my foot, then looks up and gives me a big grin. I can’t help smiling, too.
All things considered, I would totally do it again.