Chapter #3Stuck With Poki by: Blood   The world around you was a blur of shadows and echoes, a cacophony of distant sounds that felt miles away despite their immediate proximity. The moment you shrank to a minuscule two inches in height, you found yourself in a terrifying new reality. Desperation and panic had set in almost instantly, but nothing could have prepared you for what came next.
The ground trembled beneath you, and a massive shadow loomed overhead. Looking up, your heart skipped a beat as you saw the colossal figure of Imane "Pokimane" Anys, the popular streamer, moving around her room. Her bare feet, large and imposing from your perspective, pounded the floor with a rhythm that matched the beat of your own fearful heart.
You tried to run, but there was nowhere to go. Her foot came down with a force that sent shockwaves through your tiny body. The impact was swift and unrelenting, pressing you into the warm, slightly sweaty flesh of her sole. Pain shot through your limbs as you were plastered face-first against her dirty, fragrant barefoot. The scent was overwhelming, a mixture of natural musk and the remnants of sweat from a long day.
Hours passed in a haze of agony and disorientation. Every movement she made felt like an earthquake, each step a fresh wave of torment. Her skin was slightly moist, the texture a combination of smooth and rough patches. You could feel the minuscule grains of dirt and debris clinging to her sole, grinding against your tiny form with each step she took.
The warmth of her foot was stifling, adding to your discomfort. The natural creases and wrinkles of her sole created a landscape that you were pressed into, each ridge a reminder of your helplessness. You could smell the faint traces of lotion she had applied earlier, now mixed with the more potent scent of her natural perspiration. It was a heady aroma, one that clung to you and filled your senses entirely.
As she moved about her room, preparing for her stream, you were taken along for the ride. The vibrations of her movements, the shifts in pressure as she adjusted her stance, all contributed to your ongoing ordeal. At times, the pressure would ease slightly, allowing you a brief moment to catch a breath, only for it to return with renewed intensity as she shifted her weight or took another step.
The worst part was the uncertainty. You didn't know if she was aware of your presence or not. Did she feel the tiny figure stuck to her sole, or were you simply another speck of dirt to be ignored? The idea that she might not even know you were there added a layer of despair to your situation.
As the hours dragged on, you became acutely aware of every detail of her foot. The skin, though soft in some areas, was tougher in others, especially around the heel and the ball of her foot. The natural curves and arches of her sole were imprinted in your mind, each movement ingraining them further. Her toes, looming above you, would occasionally scrunch and flex, causing the skin of her sole to stretch and shift around you.
Occasionally, you would hear her voice, a distant but comforting sound as she interacted with her viewers. The laughter, the excitement, the casual conversation – all of it contrasted sharply with your own silent suffering. You could hear the clicking of her mouse and the clattering of her keyboard, each sound a reminder of the normal world that was now so far out of reach.
Despite the pain and discomfort, there were moments of odd clarity where you could almost appreciate the strange intimacy of your predicament. To be so close to someone, to experience such a personal aspect of their daily life, was bizarrely fascinating. The rhythm of her movements, the warmth of her skin, even the scent – all of it painted a picture of the person above you in a way few would ever experience.
But these moments were fleeting, quickly overshadowed by the relentless pressure and the aching of your tiny body. You didn't know how much longer you could endure this. Every step she took felt like it might be the one to finally crush you entirely.
Eventually, there was a shift. You felt her pause, the vibrations ceasing for a moment. Her foot lifted, and you felt a sudden, terrifying rush of movement as she swung her leg up and crossed it over her knee. The pressure on your body lessened, but you were still stuck fast to her sole, the adhesive grip of her sweat and the dirt keeping you in place.
From your new vantage point, you could see more of her, though your vision was still partially obscured by the contours of her foot. She was focused on her stream, smiling and chatting with her viewers, completely oblivious to the tiny person stuck to her sole.
You felt a flicker of hope. Maybe now you had a chance. Maybe now, she would notice you. But as she absentmindedly rubbed her foot with her other hand, the rough texture of her palm against her sole only served to grind you further into her skin. You let out a silent scream, the pain and frustration reaching a peak.
And then, just as suddenly, the pressure was gone. Her fingers had brushed against you, dislodging you from her sole. You fell, tumbling through the air, and landed with a soft thud on the carpet below. The relief was immediate, but the pain and exhaustion lingered.
You lay there, gasping for breath, your body aching and bruised. Above you, Pokimane continued with her stream, blissfully unaware of the tiny figure that had just escaped from the torment of her foot. The world was still a massive, intimidating place, but at least you were free. For now.
As you lay on the carpet, trying to gather the strength to move, you couldn't help but wonder what would happen next. How would you get her attention? How would you find a way to return to your normal size? The challenges ahead were daunting, but you had survived this long. You could only hope that you had the strength and resilience to face whatever came next.  indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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