Your mother briskly walkes forward, mumbling to herself “I need to remind this girl what a laundry basket is apparently”. Below her, on the floor, you dive quickly to avoid her foot. But not quick enough.
‘Slam’ your mother’s foot smashes you into the carpet. She then preceds to pick up you laundry, diligently cleaning up the only clue as to where you had gone.
With the wind knocked out of you, try as you might, you can't even scream as your mother full weight compresses you into the floor. With the soft flesh pressing all over you, you find that moving is impossible. But on the good side, although the pressure was uncomfortable, you weren’t feeling any pain.

The smell is abhorrent however, your mother's feet exuding a smell of toe cheese and stale sweat. Along with the smell came the texture, as her foot is caked in a thin layer of dead skin that would’ve been unnoticeable to anyone normal sized. You however aren't normal size, so the mixture of dead skin and old sweat became a gritty slime coating the front of your body. Luckily, you aren't underfoot for long as you mother finished picking up your laundry and began to move off to find some more elsewhere. However, as her foot lifts from the ground, you body doesn't come loose from her sole, forcing you to go along for a ride.