The sun was setting over the city, casting a warm orange glow across the now-empty Comic-Con arena. Erin Moriarty strolled through the quiet streets outside, her Adidas slides slapping lightly against the pavement. The crowds had dispersed, and she finally had a moment to breathe—and to remember her tiny “companion.”
She paused mid-step, her expression shifting into a wicked grin. “Oh yeah,” she muttered to herself. “You’re still down there, aren’t you?”
Sliding her foot halfway out of her shoe, she tilted it upward to inspect the insole. There you were, plastered to the damp, grimy fabric of her sock, your tiny form barely visible amidst the faint imprint of her footprint. Her face lit up with amusement, her lips curling into a sneer.
“Wow. Still alive? That’s… impressive. Or maybe just pathetic.” She flicked her foot, sending you tumbling onto the slide’s insole. “You’ve been down there all day, and I haven’t even heard you complain. Guess I must’ve squashed the fight out of you.”
Erin spotted a bench nearby and sauntered over, her footsteps heavy and deliberate, each step causing the slide to creak as her weight bore down. She plopped down on the bench with a loud sigh, crossing her legs casually. For a moment, she just sat there, her foot dangling in the air, letting the world tilt and sway for you.
Then, with almost comical abruptness, she leaned forward and plucked you off the slide. Her fingers pinched you roughly, pressing into your tiny body with no care for your comfort. She brought you up to her face, her hazel eyes narrowing as she studied you like a particularly amusing bug.
“You look awful,” she said bluntly, her voice dripping with mockery. “All dirty and squished. You know, for someone who wanted my attention so badly, you sure don’t look like you’re having fun.” Her laugh was sharp and cold, and she didn’t wait for a response—she wasn’t interested in what you had to say.
Erin shifted her attention to her sock, her toes wiggling lazily within the snug cotton. “Hmm,” she mused, her voice taking on a sinister edge. “I think you could use a closer look at what’s been keeping you company all day.”
With no warning, she pressed you against the sole of her sock, grinding you into the slightly damp, textured fabric. The faint musk of sweat and fabric softener hit you immediately, the warmth of her foot radiating through the material. Erin chuckled, rubbing you back and forth with increasing force, her fingers pressing you deeper into the threads.
“Wow, you’re really getting in there,” she teased, her tone laced with cruel amusement. “Bet this smells great, huh? Go on, take a deep breath. I’m doing all the work—might as well appreciate it.”
The fibers scratched against your skin as she continued, twisting and pressing you into every curve of her sock. She didn’t stop until the faint gray tint of dirt and grime from the day smeared across your body. Satisfied, she held you up to inspect her handiwork.
“Yikes,” she said with a mock grimace, wrinkling her nose in exaggerated disgust. “You’re even filthier now. But don’t worry—I’m not done with you yet.”
Her slide rested on the ground nearby, its insole worn and marked from a full day of walking. Erin smirked as an idea came to her. With deliberate slowness, she brought you down to the slide, pressing you into the rubbery insole and dragging you across its surface. The treaded grooves of the Adidas logo scraped against your body as she applied just enough pressure to make the process uncomfortable.
“Think of it as cleaning duty,” she said, her voice tinged with laughter. “I mean, someone’s gotta scrub this thing after a whole day of walking. Might as well be you.”
She didn’t stop there. Turning the slide over, she exposed its rubber sole, the deep ridges of the tread still carrying faint traces of dirt and grime from the pavement. Without hesitation, she pressed you into one of the grooves, grinding you back and forth as if you were nothing more than a cleaning tool. The gritty texture scraped against your skin, and her laughter echoed above as she twisted her wrist, ensuring no spot went untouched.
“You’re really earning your keep, tiny,” she said, wiping you roughly along the edge of the slide to knock loose some stuck debris. “Look at you, so helpful. Maybe I’ll hire you as my personal shoe cleaner. Oh, wait—you won’t be around much longer, will you?”
When she finally stopped, you were completely broken—your body exhausted, filthy, and battered beyond recognition. Erin leaned back on the bench, holding you between her fingers with a mocking grin. “I’ll admit, you lasted longer than I thought,” she said. “But I think it’s time we wrapped this up.”
Her dog, who had been sitting obediently nearby, let out a bark as if on cue. Erin glanced at the ground and spotted a fresh pile of dog poop, still steaming slightly. Her grin widened.
“Oh, this is perfect,” she said, her voice practically gleeful. “You’ve been such a little nuisance—you deserve a proper sendoff.”
With a flick of her wrist, she dropped you unceremoniously into the pile. The smell hit you instantly, an overwhelming wave of nauseating filth. The soft, sticky substance clung to you as you sank slightly into the warm mass, completely coated in the foul mess. Above, Erin giggled, clearly enjoying your humiliation.
“Wow,” she said, wrinkling her nose in mock disgust. “You look even worse now. Didn’t think that was possible.” She reached for her phone, tapping the screen a few times. “But I think we can go smaller. Let’s make you really insignificant.”
Another pulse of energy washed over you, and you shrank even further, the massive pile of dog poop now feeling like a swamp around you. Erin stood up, her towering figure casting a shadow across your pitiful form.
“You know what’s coming, right?” she said, lifting her Adidas slide above you. The treads, now slick with dirt and grime, hovered ominously over the pile. “Time to say goodbye, tiny. Thanks for the laughs.”
She brought her foot down slowly at first, pressing the rubber sole into the pile with a sickening squelch. The weight of her foot obliterated everything beneath it, the smell and sound overwhelming as she ground her slide back and forth, ensuring nothing remained.
When she finally stepped away, she glanced down at the faint smudge on the pavement and shrugged. “Guess that’s that,” she said, brushing her hands off as if completing a chore. Without another look back, she walked away, her slides slapping against the ground, leaving no trace of you behind.
For Erin, it was just another day. For you, it was the end.
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