The Wrath of a Priestess

The Wrath of a Priestess

The Wrath of a Priestess

(part 1)

Over the last year I had developed a taste for frequenting bars and nightclubs.

I

would stare at the beautiful women and the average women. On evenings where I

had a  copious amount of alcohol I even had the nerve to talk to some of them,

this story is about one of those nights.

I had seen her before. She always dressed to kill and tonight was no different.

She had on a white lacy top with a short black mini-skirt, black nylons and

thick 4 inch

block heeled designer boots, the type that only came up to her ankles. She had

sandy

blonde hair, a sharp nose and soft green eyes. She carried herself with an air

of

superiority and from over-heard conversations she believed herself to be such.

When I

sat by her she was talking about the WICCAN faith and that was my cue to say

something to her.

To my surprise she recognized me, “ Oh you’re the shoe guy,” she said with a

slight smirk. Apparently it was more well known than I thought, I had laid on

the floor

under various women’s feet before, but I did not think it was all over town,

especially

since this Wiccan goddess did not frequent the bars on a regular basis.

“Yes I know and those are some great ones you have on” I said as I looked down

at her shoes. She then mentioned something about me seeing them up close later,

which

peaked my attention.

We talked for an hour about her faith. She informed me her name was Heather

and that she was a Wiccan high priestess. Considering the amount of Latin she

was

spewing I believed her. The only phrase I recognized was infra dignitatem, or

beneath

one’s dignity. Otherwise she continued on about how bad Christianity was and

gave me

a crash course on the Wiccan faith.

After I had several Cuba Libre’s I ended up as her footstool, with those big

block

heels digging into my chin. She kept looking down in-between her legs at me and

smiling.

“You still down there?” She said and then proceeded to ignore me for a ½ of an

hour. Various people in the bar were laughing about my plight, but at this point

I did not

care. When she told me to get up after about 1 hour, I said that I wanted to be

two inches

tall and inside her shoe.

“Be careful what you wish for.” She told me, and then quickly got up and went to

the ladies room.

The Bartender Becky came up to me and said that Heather was “wacked” and that

I was crazy to hang around with her and let her step on me like that. I wondered

if Becky

was jealous, she was not drop dead gorgeous like Heather, she had a bit of a

stomach, but

really long legs and a pretty, if not stunning face. She was barefoot behind the

bar having

kicked her ½ inch heeled loafers off.

“Yes she is strange and all that Wiccan stuff I don’t believe it really, so

she’s a

little nuts you are correct Becky.” After making that statement about Heather I

felt really

strange inside almost like a shiver of fear ran through me, I didn’t really

understand it,

it’s not like I said anything all that bad, and no reason to be fearful of

anything.

Heather returned from the bathroom, she sat down turned to me and gave me a

stare that seemed to go right through me. I had to look away.

“Homunculus “ is all she said!

“What!? What does that mean?”

“Homunculus” she repeated. “You are going to get your wish because you

betrayed me. I am a high priestess and you have violated the confidence and time

I have

given you. You will be the miniature man and your potential executioner will be

the

bartender Becky.

I laughed, kind of giggled and said, “Okay Heather…” I stopped short, how did

she know I had said anything to Becky about her? She was the length of the

building

away in the bathroom.

Heather continued giving me an intense angry look. “You will be ½ inch tall and

stuck spread-eagle to the floor behind the bar. It’s now 11:30pm if you make it

until bar

time without her stepping on you and squashing you to death, then you will have

your life

and I will forgive you for your transgression.”

“You are kind of freaking me out here, you really seem to believe that you can

actually do that to me.”

“Believe it homunculus!” she seemed to fade away from my view and my eyes

hurt like I had just been swimming in a pool with too much chlorine in it. I

closed my

eyes tight until the pain started to pass, my back felt cool and I realized I

was laying flat

now, as my eyes focused again it seemed I was no longer in the bar, … but wait?

An incredibly loud metallic like grinding sound filled my ears followed by a

loud

thump, it was so loud yet lower in tone than the lowest note on a bassoon. I

looked up,

my god Heather had done it, I couldn’t move my head, but I could move my eyes

enough

to see the towering figure of Becky as she had just slammed a cooler door and

had a beer

bottle in her hand. My eyes darted all around in an instant, the way they do

when I’m

driving 70 in rush hour traffic. First I saw one of her feet, looked like it was

a half-mile

away from me, but I could see detail in that foot I never thought existed. The

fine hair

looked like ropes sprouting out of her foot, and what looked like large smears

of mud on

her toes was just dirt from the floor. As she continued to walk the moist bottom

of her

foot pulled off the tile with a sound like 100 circular saws cutting into 1-inch

plywood. I

tried to turn my head sideways as the foot cast a huge shadow over me, but I

couldn’t

move my head or any part of my body for that matter. I couldn’t even guess as to

the size

of that foot approaching me, I was still in some sort of shock, but Becky’s foot

came so

fast that my eyes couldn’t even adjust to the light change from the shadow. All

I could

see was some fist size stones and pools of mud and more rock lodged in the

crevices of

what looked like her heel, that heel spread out in all directions, it was all I

could see even

in my peripheral vision. I tried to close my eyes but I could only blink, I

couldn’t force

them closed either. She did it, I can’t believe it, Heather shrunk me, and Becky

doesn’t

even know I’m here, a bug on the floor. I saw my death approaching, started to

smell

Becky’s sweat and the dirt and grime. But as quickly as it was upon me it just

disappeared. I rolled my eyes up and looked back towards the top of my head, I

could see all of Becky now as she was away and serving the beer. Her foot just

brushed over me as she walked, not even coming within 25ft of me. God it won’t

even take a direct hit to kill me; just a corner of her small toe will finish

me! I remembered Heather’s promise,  I had to make it till bar time and I’d be

allowed to live. A motion caught my eyes and I looked right toward the bar. It

was an incredibly massive wiccan priestess, Heather, she  was leaning across the

bar and looking down at me, she had that superior look on her face  that I had

seen so many times before. She then held up her hand and crossed her fingers 

and winked at me.

 

The sound had become

deafening, music playing and people talking and laughing.

But as Heather leaned over the bar I thought I heard her say, “See you in Hell.”

I

contemplated whether it was just an idiom or if she actually believed she would

see me in

Hell. Considering the position I was in maybe I should start believing in Hell.

A large

shadow cast over me again and instead of seeing Heather up in the sky leaning

over the

bar it was the back of Becky’s heels I was seeing. All the fiber of my existence

wanted to

run, but I couldn’t move anything. Becky’s voice thundered above.

“Where is Rob? Did he leave already?” She asked Heather.

“Oh I think he said he was going to lay low for awhile.” I could hear Heather’s

laughter and it slowly faded into the din of the bar as she left Becky standing

there with a

confused look.

“That chick is just completely strange,” Becky said to a couple of her friends

at

the bar. As she was talking she slid her right foot back and rested it with her

toes

pointing down to the floor against her left foot. My senses were filled. My

entire being

was like a piece of dirt on the floor. All I could do was smell sweat, dirt and

grease, all I

could see was her toes grinding into the ground as the sole of her foot rose up

and filled

what was now my sky. By the simple movement of her foot, she unwittingly came

within

inches of smashing me into the ground under the tips of her toes. My whole being

shook

internally, I was unable to move, but the pounding of heart and my utter terror

would

have paralyzed me anyway. My death loomed so close to me, but not as close as it

was

going to get.

Becky slowly moved her right foot down until the ball of her foot was flat on

the

floor. I found my voice. “BECKY! STOP” and I proceeded to scream. But the ball

of

her foot kept descending; my body was bashed as an avalanche of dirt rolled off

her

approaching foot. As I continued screaming everything went black. But I was

still alive,

my eyes adjusted to the light and I could see what looked like huge pom poms. It

was

lint between her toes. I was in a cavern not formed by any geophysical

phenomenon, but

formed by the space between and under Becky’s toes.

These near misses continued up until last call for alcohol. By this time I

imagine I

resembled and smelled like an insignificant piece of Becky’s foot dirt. But it

was last call

and I only had a few minutes left and I’d be okay and returned to normal! The

terror of

almost being stepped on hundreds of times almost didn’t compare to the anxiety I

felt at

getting these next few minutes behind me.

“Everybody it’s time to start heading to the door!” Becky yelled to the

remaining

clientele. God I wish they would hurry up and go she thought to herself as she

lit up a

cigarette and pulled her loafers off a shelf and dropped them to the floor

stepping into

them. As she was sliding into her shoes something strange looking on the floor

caught

her eye. “Yuck it’s some kind of gross bug,” her voice cracking and becoming

more

nasal as it always did when she became excited or agitated. She raised her foot

and

slammed it down hard and twisted it back and forth and slowly dragged it back. A

minute bit of red could be seen, most of the creature was stuck to the bottom of

her

loafer. “I got it, I smushed the nasty thing!” She said like she had just

accomplished a

great task.

My heart was in my throat and pounding as the giant washboard pattern of tread

descended toward me. I opened my mouth but had no voice. I heard her clearly,

she

thought I was a bug. For a moment I thought I would be spared as her foot

stopped and

hovered over me, but she was just moving it from the arch section that was over

me to the

ball of her foot. For a brief moment my whole world was the smell of rubber and

then it

was mud as my face was being pushed into a gap between the treads of her shoe,

that

tread was caked with thick greasy grime. Then I couldn’t breath and I felt my

face

starting to explode and then my chest and …nothing.

“Is this heaven?” I said out-loud as I observed a bright light at the end of a

long

tunnel. I had heard stories of these phenomena but being mostly atheistic in my

beliefs I

wrote them off as pure superstition. I didn’t seem to have a body either; I felt

the same

as when I was stuck to the floor in the bar. I could direct my vision but

couldn’t move

anything else, in fact there didn’t seem to be anything else to move. I now

realized I was

lying flat looking towards the light, but it wasn’t even as if I was lying, it

was like I was

one-dimensional.

“No this is not heaven.” I heard a female voice say, and then she giggled. “In

fact this is the hell I told you I would see you in.” The light I was staring at

was filled

with an incredibly huge eye looking down at me. “You essence is now the insole

of my

shoe. Your existence will now be to live and breath my foot and you will feel

the

crushing pressure and the heat and the musk, but you won’t ever die, you are

already

dead.”

“This is not possible.” As I thought those words I was answered.

“Oh yes you will believe it as soon as I’m wearing you out to the bar tonight.

This will be your hell for as long as I live, and you will be in whatever shoes

I’m

planning to wear any day.”

I thought about it, as long as she lives…at least it will be over eventually,

maybe

she’ll die young. I hoped it, hoped it with a building rage, my anger at not

being able to

move the trapped and stuck feeling was overwhelming me, claustrophobia was

developing in me.

“I’ve been alive for 300 years already, so don’t expect that I’ll die young! In

fact

for thinking that you’re going to be along for my 5k run tomorrow.” She laughed

uncontrollably; I could only see a part of her beautiful face as she laughed.

Then her face

was gone from my view and a nylon foot started descending on me. I could hear

her

saying to her self that she was going to give me a break after tonight, but now

that I

wanted her dead, she would never show any mercy. I could hear a short laugh

until the

sound was cut off as her foot slid into the shoe and engulfed me. In my

one-dimensional

state I could only watch as the space between her toes and the ball of her foot

descended

on me. I could tell she was walking as I could feel pressure, and I actually

still struggled

to breathe. I tried in vain to do something, but the nylons ground into me like

being

slammed face-first into a hurricane fence. I felt myself being squished and

pushed even

lower into the shoe as if that was possible. They say Hell is a place of fire

and brimstone,

but the heat that soon developed was indescribable. It wafted off her feet like

the hearth

of a Recovery Boiler. Soon all I knew was the smell of her foot, the smell of

leather and

nylon, the incredible pressure as her toes mashed and twisted me as she walked.

I had a

good job and a bright future now I was reduced to this; the insole of her shoe.

All these

thoughts flew through my head as her foot contoured itself around me and I

actually

could feel myself being bent and pushed into the shape of her foot bottom.

Epilogue

Heather kept her promise to wear me in every pair of shoes she owned. When I

was transmuted to a different pair I would feel springy and okay. But that would

change

as she trod on me and the heat and sweat permeated into everything that was now

me.

Weeks would pass where she would not even acknowledge my existence; I was just

her

shoe insole. Then at times she would taunt me, have long talks with me about

Becky and

all the things I could have had. When she got drunk she would tell me to get

out, get out

if you can, my big old foots coming in, this is your last chance to run. Then

she would

laugh and I would see the dreaded site of her foot sliding in over me.

It’s been years and I’m still being trod on by Heather, now I think I’m losing

my

humanity, I feel like I actually belong here, my thoughts are broken. Even when

she’s

not wearing me I have trouble not thinking of anything except her feet. I’m

almost

starting to worship them as they grind me and twist me in the heat, the humid

odor of

them. But no I must stop those thoughts maybe there’s hope of…I’m her insole

that’s all

I am.

The Wrath of a Priestess

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