Taylor Swift Crushes Shrunken Fan by OzziDevs on DeviantArt (original) (raw)

The stadium was electric with anticipation. Tens of thousands of Taylor Swift fans, adorned in glittering costumes and waving neon signs, filled the arena, eagerly awaiting the next song in the highly anticipated Era's Tour. The night had been magical, each hit song weaving nostalgia and excitement through the crowd.

Taylor moved gracefully across the stage in her sparkling thigh-high boots when she felt something strange wriggling around near her toes. The peculiar sensation distracted her, and with a playful shrug to the audience, she sat down on the edge of the stage and slipped off her boot. The crowd gasped and roared with curiosity as Taylor peered inside.

There, clinging desperately to the fabric of her insole, was a tiny man, no bigger than a couple inches. Taylor's face was a mixture of curiosity and amusement as she effortlessly lifted him out and held him in the palm of her hand. The tiny man trembled under the weight of her immaculate gaze.

"Where on earth did you come from, little guy?" Taylor asked him, speaking directly into the microphone so everyone could hear. She held the relatively gigantic mic to the tiny man's face as the cameras zoomed in as close as they could to get a good shot of him. The man looked up to see his face multiplied across screen after screen as thousands of people waited for his response.

"M-my name is James," he squeaked out, his whole body visibly shaking. "I've been a fan of yours for a v-very long time, and I desperately wanted to meet you. S-so I found these pills online that said they had the ability to shrink people. I decided to give it a try, so once I got here I took one, and it actually worked!"

"Well I can see that, James!" Taylor said, with a sassy smirk. The crowd's roars and laughter echoed through the stadium like boisterous thunder. "I gotta say, this takes the cake for weirdest fan interaction I've ever had. But that still doesn't explain what you were doing in my boot!" she shouted with a sudden accusatory tone, holding up her large, imposing shoe to James.

"T-that was an accident! After I snuck past security, I found your dressing room. I climbed up onto your make-up table and I waited, but then I heard you coming and I freaked out. I ran to hide, but I must've tripped over a lipstick or something, because the next thing I know, I'm falling into something dark and leathery. It wasn't until you came in and slipped your foot inside that I realized where I was!"

"I dunno, James. I find that kinda hard to believe. I've been online and I gotta say there's probably a good amount of foot-obsessed guys who would kill to be in your position right now." The crowd once again erupted into furious laughter. Even in the midst of his fear and humiliation, James couldn't shake his admiration of Taylor Swift, whose flawless face filled his vision.

"You’ve got guts, James," she said, her big eyes sparkling. "But maybe next time, try just asking for a backstage pass." With the crowd cheering, Taylor decided to make James's night memorable in a different way. "How about we give our tiny friend here the best seat in the house for the next song?" The audience roared with approval.

Taylor placed James gently on the stage and slipped off her other boot, revealing her large bare feet. The sight of her towering above him, her enormous feet mere inches away from where he was standing, made James's heart race. Taylor gestured to a the sound guy to restart the music, and immediately Taylor was back into the swing of things!

She started singing "Look What You Made Me Do" and began playfully stomping her feet towards James. Terrified, James ran for dear life, darting across the stage as Taylor's giant feet playfully chased him. Each stomp sent vibrations through the ground, making him stumble and fall over constantly. He knew deep down that Taylor would never intentionally step on him, but he was afraid that she might trip and accidentally crush him. He yelled for help, but when James gazed off into the crowd, all he could see were thousands of women laughing at him and gleefully singing along.

Every single person in the audience was fully immersed in the spectacle. Taylor’s feet, each the size of a car to James, were both fascinating and frightening. Her playful stomps grew closer and closer, her laughter echoing above.

Towards the end of the song, James's greatest fear was realized when Taylor playfully stomped the ball of her foot down hard on top of him. The audience gasped, thinking she might have crushed him completely. Taylor sat down on the edge of the stage once again, lifted her foot, and revealed a terrified but completely intact James stuck to her sweaty dirt-ridden sole. The crowd erupted in applause and laughter.

Taylor gleefully praised James, "Wow, little guy, you are really resilient!" She then carefully peeled James off her foot and placed him back inside her nearby boot. "Take him to my dressing room," she instructed a nearby stagehand. "This might not be the safest place for him with me around." With a playful smile, she handed the boot, with James inside, to the stagehand and proceeded with the rest of the concert barefoot. The audience cheered even louder as the show continued.

After the concert, Taylor returned to her dressing room and grabbed James from the confines of her boot. She was fascinated by his miniscule size and impressed by his determination to see her. With a bit of thought, Taylor made James an offer. "How would you like to come on tour with us?" she asked. "You can be my personal shoe cleaner and foot massager for the rest of the tour. It's a big job, obviously, but it comes with some pretty amazing perks," she said, slamming her sore heels hard onto the table directly in front of him.

James, not wanting to anger his idol, hastily agreed. From that night on, he traveled with Taylor, cleaning her shoes and massaging her tired feet after each concert. Standing and dancing in heels for four hours straight took a toll on Taylor’s feet, and James, being the perfect size for massaging them, was tasked with easing her aches.

Each night, Taylor would prop her feet up on a cushioned stool, her feet glistening with sweat and aching from hours of performing. James, now familiar with the contours of her soles and the texture of her skin, would get to work. His small hands worked tirelessly, kneading the sore muscles and tendons. To Taylor, it was an unusual but oddly satisfying experience. The tiny man’s hands could reach places a regular masseuse couldn’t, providing a detailed and thorough massage.

James felt a combination of fear and exhilaration. The smell of her feet, a mixture of sweat and leather, was overpowering, but he took pride in his work. Taylor would occasionally giggle at the ticklish spots or sigh contentedly as the tension melted away. "You're really good at this, James," she would say, her voice warm and appreciative. "I don't know how I managed without you."

Though daunting, James accepted his role, realizing that his misadventure had turned into an unexpected opportunity. He had gotten exactly what he wanted; to get close to Taylor Swift. And every single night, he was intimately close in ways he never would have imagined. After he was finished cleaning and massaging in between each and every toe, Taylor would place him on the floor to clean her shoes while she slept. It was a unique situation; one that James came to surprisingly enjoy over the next few months. And one that he hoped would continue long after the Eras tour came to an end.