Party Trample 3 min read

For those who are interested, I am 6″1″, slim build with size 10 shoe, which makes it hard to find dainty feminine footwear. I usually wear flatties, since I don’t like appearing taller than what I am, I’m too tall as it is. I’ve never trampled on anyone while wearing high heels, or hard soled shoes. normally it’s bare feet or sneakers.

This particular trample took place at a party during my teen years. It was a typical teen party where everyone had to much to drink. It was dark as the lights had been turned down. One of the guys, a really smart arse by the name of Dirk, had drunk too much and had passed out, face down on the floor half under a table. He was so out of it he didn’t know what was going on. As I watched, another girl walking past him accidentally tripped on his outstretched leg and stepped on his thigh. She nearly fell, but recovered and actually kicked him in the leg before she went on, but he didn’t notice. Dirk was one of these obnoxious loud guys who thought he was God’s gift to women. He was always touchy feely with all the girls but didn’t realize he was just a creep.

I walked over to the table, which was holding snack food. Reaching for some of the food I put my left foot square on his back, I could feel his shoulder blade under the soft sole of my sneaker. He didn’t move, so I stepped up with my full weight and stood on his back with both feet close together. Even that didn’t rouse him. I moved down the table a bit by shuffling my feet along so that my right foot was pressing down on his butt. Finally, I picked up something from the table and twisting my feet on his back. I stepped forward with the toes of my right foot actually resting on his cheek, he was lying with his head on one side. As I stepped off my full weight pressed down on the side of his face. His head was actually lying in a shaft of light from an open doorway, and looking back I could see the zig zag print my sneaker sole had left on his face. I remember thinking that it would be good if he still had it on his face the next day when he looked in the mirror. That gave me an idea.

I returned to the table and picked out a slice of cake with dark brown chocolate icing. “Accidently” dropping it on the floor, I stepped on it, squashing it into the carpet and rubbing it liberally on the rubber soles of both sneakers. When the cake was nothing more than a brown blotch on the floor. I carefully stepped onto Dirk’s back and slowly walked the length of his body, which took only three steps. When I’d stepped off his butt I turned around and walked back up again, taking another three steps and ending up on the back of his neck. He still hadn’t moved, so I smeared my right foot in the chocolate cake mess again, then placing it directly on the side of his face, I briefly stood on his head full weight.

Stepping back I checked my handiwork. There were clearly defined sneaker prints all over his white shirt, and a big muddy looking footprint right across his cheek. How I would have liked to be there when he checked his clothes the next morning and looked in the mirror.

I never found out what he thought of the footprints all over him. He certainly didn’t go around checking all the girls’ shoes to see who it was. For a few weeks after if I knew he would be about I’d wear the same sneakers I trampled him with, which still retained the chocolate cake remains in the treads, and I’d make a point of lifting up my foot so he could see the soles. But if it registered he never said.