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Rated: 18+ · Fiction · Erotica · #2199810
Andrew finds himself in more danger, this time at Rachel's massive sneaker-clad feet.
A shoe. He was on the tongue of a massive sneaker, the spiraling coils of rope above him were the shoe strings, the chasm ahead, the mouth of the shoe. His heart began to beat rapidly, had he come any closer, or failed to stop himself any sooner, he’d have fallen into that terrible cave, lost forever until the owner decided to wear it. He prayed thanks to the gods above he hadn’t suffered such a terrible fate, and as he did, he was reminded that he was not safe yet.

The shoe shook violently, Rachel’s other hand grasping it to secure a grip with both hands. Unprepared, Andrew tumbled forward, once again nearly tumbling inside the chasm of Rachel’s sneaker, a fate akin to being banished to the underworld. Finally steeling his resolve, he glanced to the sky, unprepared, again, for the sight above him.

As white as any cloud that he’d ever seen, but exponentially more deadly, Rachel’s socked foot commanded his attention with sheer intimidation. It lorded over his world with a majesty even her ass had not quite captured. Toes, deftly writhing within their cotton prison, spearheaded the assault, poised to guide the rest of the foot into the shoe at the command of their owner. She thought nothing more of this simple action, she was simply putting her shoes on.

“RACHEL! Down here, for fucks sake, look at me!” Andrew screamed angrily, beating his fist against the tongue of the shoe currently being slipped on. As Rachel’s toes approached the chasm of the shoe’s mouth, she pulled at the opening a bit more to give her toes more room to burrow inside. She could have untied her shoe and had a much easier time sliding it on, but she was so frustrated with that jock’s attitude, she just wanted to get started on her morning run as soon as possible.

That same jock had done his best to cling to the shoe’s fabric as the event horizon approached, but Rachel’s last little adjustment to make room for her toes finally dislodged him, and he slipped from the safety of the tongue of the shoe, and over the ledge he’d feared getting lost in moments ago. As he slipped over the shoe’s tongue, he grasped wildly for anything to cling to.

Again, his athleticism spared him, and he grabbed the opposite side of the tongue’s wall, now dangling precariously over the entrance to the shoe. He clung tighter than he had before, muscle already sore from attempting this same stunt at Rachel’s ass, but this time, there was a much more pressing threat.

Rachel’s toes finally slipped into the mouth of the shoe, shaking Andrew’s world that much more. He knew better than to look down, but the sheer spectacle of being this small, on a woman’s shoe as she pulled it along her foot was enough to draw his attention to the encroaching foot. Below, the pristine white toe of the socks were effortlessly squirming their way inside, like some massive aircraft carrier descending into a cavern below, a sight unparalleled to any he’d seen before. WIth his proximity and size, he could see between the threads that made up the sock’s form, and for a brief second, caught the pink toenail polish so gracefully applied by the goddess at some point recently.

As the toes slipped into the shoe and out of view, he could feel the shoe shifting to compensate for her foot inside. If he were to fall there, he’d be cast into the same darkness, clinging to Rachel’s sock and praying to her for escape, somehow, some day. The thoughts only pushed him to try harder, pulling himself slowly, fist by fist, toward salvation. The gyrations of a titaness simply pulling on her footwear unnerved him, knowing that only a few scant yards below, the slender foot of the woman who owned this shoe was pushing through the subterranean landscape he was dangling above, and should he make a mistake, he would certainly find his death.

Rachel’s instep came next, the sound of the sock sliding against the cotton of the shoe’s interior grinding at his ears. As the foot continued to slip inside, he could feel the rumble of her toes, now completely enveloped in their comfortable home, wiggling and stretching. Additionally, Andrew felt the entire shoe shift left and right, as the ankle shifted the foot above to wiggle it onto her foot. The vast plain of Rachel’s instep slipped inside, leaving on the heel to enter the titanic sneaker.

Another fistful of rubbery, synthetic shoe material gave him the strength to pull himself up, just as the heel of the foot reached the mouth of the shoe. Andrew rolled over away from the entrance to the cavern, just as Rachel’s colossal heel cupped into the pre-tied sneaker with a definitive, satisfyingly terrifying thunk that shook the shoe and shrunken man alike. He’d survived...yet again, he was alive, now stranded on top of this clueless bitch’s shoe.


As Rachel finished putting on both of her shoes, she grabbed the door handle, only to find it turning already. She stumbled backward, barely getting out of the door’s way as it swung open.

“Oh, whoa!” She called out in response, watching as Amelia stepped inside.

“Ah, sorry! Hey girl! My bad…” The shorter girl answered, smiling sheepishly at her roommate. The beautiful brunette’s cheeks dimpled as she grinned some.

“No, it’s okay. Bad timing.” She grinned, waving off the mistake. “I’m going for a jog, be back soon.”

“I thought you were tutoring Andrew?” Amelia answered warmly.

“Yeah, I was…he showed up, didn’t bring anything, then bailed out. I’m going to talk to Professor G about it Monday.” Rachel folded her arms as she spoke, heaving a mentally exhausted breath.

“Maybe he had an emergency? Have you called him?”

“Pfft, yeah, I doubt that. He’s just a hot-headed prick, not even worth the extra credit. My pride is worth more than a curved grade on the final.” No longer interested in discussing it, Rachel began to tap her foot, somewhat impatiently.

“Alright, if you say so.” Amelia answered, defeated. “...movie tonight?”

“Sure...I can grab something. Maybe ‘300’?” Amelia’s face soured at her roommate’s response.

“Too violent. Clash of the Titans?”

“...and you’re calling 300 too violent?!” Rachel scoffed, grinning.

“Not with the blood and stuff!” Amelia’s cheeks flushed some.

“Whatever, I’ll call you later.” Rachel responded with a weak smile. She stepped past Amelia and out of the room, disappearing down the hall. Amelia, now alone, closed the door and headed for the kitchen. Maybe she could make something nice for Rachel to come home to, that would cheer her up.


Bruised, battered, beaten and ready to break someone’s face, the shrunken jock clambered his way down and under the path of shoestrings that acted as a canopy to the jungle that was the tongue of Rachel’s sneaker. He knew he didn’t have long to get to safety...or get off of this thing, but being anywhere near what could be the entrance to that terrible cave inside the woman’s shoe was far and away from what he wanted. He didn’t have much of a plan, but he knew he wanted to get off of this shoe and to safer, higher ground. Above and behind him, he could see Rachel’s leg extending miles into the air, climbing her would take days, and he’d likely end up getting crushed or falling before he even got to her knee.

The memories of watching her toes descend into the shoe haunted Andrew’s mind. He wanted to scrub the vision from his mind, but those memories were nightmare fuel, he was sure there were a few of those primed and ready for whenever he got to normal again, if that was even possible. He could feel the tremors of her foot shifting gently within the shoe, and it chilled him to the bone. He wanted to get away from this nerd’s shoe, if it meant being on the floor for the rest of the day, or getting sat on again, or climbing another massive ass...anything.

The toe of the shoe was like the parking lot of a mall, expanding out in every direction. It was sprawling and littered with potholes large enough for two of him to fit in easily. The last thing he wanted was to fall in one of those and ended up in down below...with the toes. Shuddering, he slowed his pace and began a jog. If he could just reach the very tip of the shoe, he could climb down, sprint to the nearest wall, and get his thoughts together.

It may have been the multiple close calls and near-death experiences that he survived that inflated his ego, but there was no amount of luck that would prepare him for what would happen next.

It started with a small shift, a gentle twist of Rachel’s towering ankle. A football player, Andrew was able to compensate for this, the shift being more like an elevator moving than an earthquake. He adjusted his trajectory for the move by his unwitting host, and kept barreling forward. The next shift, however, was much more violent and unexpected. Rachel’s entire foot moved, sending Andrew tumbling over, barely dodging one of the crater-like ventilation holes in her shoe. Before he could recover, another massive shift, foretold by the toes adjusting below him, and he was sent sprawling forward.

“Hey! Stop moving, you stupid, giant bitch!” He screamed at the oblivious girl whose shoe he was attempting to cross. Despite his protests, he was now much farther ahead than he was, if only slightly worse for the wear. A few dozen feet ahead, the very edge of the shoe, and salvation. He thirsted for it, he craved it. But Rachel had other plans. A third shift of that same foot, moving backwards this time, catapulted the tiny athlete over the edge of the shoe, down a sheer 100 foot drop toward the floor.

He fell for just a second, the sensation of descending toward maximum velocity to an unknowable fate becoming familiar in all the wrong ways. Would it be this time that fate selected to finally put him out of his misery? If not now, when? The thoughts flooded his mind, and he refused to look down. The distance from the toe of Rachel’s shoe to the ground was just shy of two inches, at best, but for Andrew, it might as well have been a mile.

‘It’s not the fall that kills you…’ He thought to himself, bracing for a quick death.

Instead...he changed directions, suddenly and violently. A sudden draft from the distance embraced him, carrying the miniscule man in its draft. A coincidence, surely, but enough of one to save his life, and instead of falling directly to the floor below, he was carried on the subtle wind to land unceremoniously on the ground with a 10 foot drop. He landed on his shoulder, dislodging it from the joint and causing a cry of pain. But a dislocated shoulder was infinitely more acceptable than death. Surely, just a convenient wind...inside of a dorm.

As he lay there in pain, Andrew counted his blessings, trying to will himself up to stand again. He didn’t want to, but he knew that Rachel’s shoe was still nearby. He pushed his body to sit up, then stand, grasping his shoulder. It throbbed, and trying to move his arm above his elbow made it that much worse. He thought to stay there and nurse his injury, or maybe even try to move the shoulder back into place, but he remembered where he was. Rachel’s massive, sneaker-clad foot loomed nearby, still shifting. Staying here, on the ground at Rachel’s feet was dangerous, a self-prescribed death sentence, really.

In the distance, however, with Rachel’s feet behind him, he could see a wall. He didn’t know what wall, how near or far it was to anything else, or if it was possible to climb. He did know, however, that getting there would mean he was much less likely to be stepped on. People didn’t walk directly against the wall. It was far from here though...three or four human-sized steps away. A difficult goal, but a goal worth achieving if there were one.

‘Get to the wall.’ He told himself. ‘Just get to the wall.’

He began to jog, despite energy, morale, and hope being low. Reaching his destination unscathed meant taking his first, well-deserved rest from the perils of Rachel’s presence since this had happened to him. He could make it to the wall and rest for a while, counting his blessings. All he had to do was run, run and pray that Rachel’s shoe did not….


At this height and distance, Rachel’s voice was indiscernible. She might as well have been not speaking at all. Despite filling the sky, the words and context were as lost to Andrew’s interpretation as thunder in the clouds. Maybe, if he’d been able to interpret her voice, he’d have been warned of his next challenge. Rachel’s surprised gasp might have announced the arrival of her roommate in the entryway, just as Andrew escaped the immediate danger of Rachel’s shoe. Had he known ahead of time, and been aware of the havoc that this new goddess would rain down on him, he might have stayed aboard that sneaker.
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