She slips her foot into the sock, never hearing the tiny pitiful cries of the guy trapped inside the lining of the footwear, his only crime having been to be too small, and in the wrong place, at the wrong time. The man was barely the size of a hair's breadth, and many times lighter, and so she noticed nothing as her foot became the ceiling of his world, lording over him like some fleshy sky of pink, and looking soft for a moment, until it drew closer, and he could make out every line, every curve of her flesh. It was not a good feeling for him, for his world sailed down, and he was sure he would be crushed, but as the weight of the goddess settled over him, the carpet fibers beneath, bigger than sky scrapes bending under her titanic mass, he found that he was saved by the sock which held him tight. Of course, then, the world rose again, and he found the air torn from his lungs, as the foot shot upward and away from him, before it halted, and he was literally tossed against it, the sock rubbing him into that warm skin, letting him feel it as if it was his own, before it feel again, and pressed him hard into it, thought at his insignificant size, he made not even the slightest impression in her, as he fell towards the earth, and then into blackness. The smell was overpowering, and the heat even more so. He could actually smell her sweating already, as the black confines of a shoe closed around his world, sealing him in with the scrap of lace against lace, and then finally moving upward again. He would be trapped, at least for the day, if not forever, an unnoticed speck beneath the foot of a goddess.
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