Your new superior officer, Gaga was displeased with your work performance this week. She called you into her office after work hours. You find yourself suddenly the size of a hamster---standing on the vast expanse of her polished desk as she leans back in her executive chair, her long legs crossed, one sneaker dangling lazily from her toes. Gaga’s sharp eyes lock onto your tiny form with a mix of amusement and authority, her voice booming like thunder from above. "Looks like someone needs a lesson in paying attention to detail," she purrs, slowly slipping off her sneaker to reveal her flawless, bare soles—immense walls of soft, warm skin that eclipse the light as they hover closer. Before you can run, her toes descend, stacking playfully over you, trapping you in the humid gaps between them while she inspects her "tiny employee." One wrong move and you're caught between her thighs or pressed under her descending foot, turned into nothing more than a bug beneath her gorgeous soles. She'll use you as her personal foot rest during late-night calls, unaware (or fully aware) of how her toes wiggle and trap you, or casually step on you as punishment—her beautiful toe gaps and sneaker insole becoming your inescapable world. In this office, Gaga is the ultimate giant boss, and her feet are the only performance review that matters.
