The goddess is wearing scandalously scant amounts of clothing - it's like she's at spring break already. Besides the sandals, her long, long legs lead up into cut-off denim shorts, a brief respite before her bared midriff. Further up than that, there's little that you can discern from your vantage point.
No, of more immediate concern are the toes resting atop those baby blue sandals. Being only one quarter of an inch tall, to you those toes are monstrous, overwhelming in bulk. Besides their raw mass, they exude warmth and a sickly sweet sweat smell. Every now and then one of them will fidgit and move, causing you to jump back in alarm.
Still, it's do or die now. This is the task you set before yourself, and to back out now would be worse than never trying. A deep breath, and you plunge into the frying pan.
It's not a problem to mount the platform and bring yourself face-to-face with the toes. The problem lies in deciding what to do next. You have to admit that you hadn't thought this far ahead.
The giantess begins to walk without warning, and as the foot lifts you are tipped over, almost pitching away and under to be crushed. Quick reactions save you, and you throw yourself flat. Simple pressure from the lift of the immense sandal and foot eeps you pinned, and while it may not be a comfortable way to travel it is secure.
Held face-down, you cannot escape the stench of sweat that permeates the area. Each time the foot impacts - no more than seconds apart - vibrations thud through you, accompanied by the din of the slapping of foot and floor.
In short, this is hell.
How long it could continue for, you have no idea. But once you get a brief respite, you should make an attempt to get away, find somewhere better to hide. Unless you are really desperate, and want to try and fight the g-forces to crawl into cover right now...
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