Job Fair Trample pt 1

This story was created by the Asian Rug man who hides under his favorite red rug in the past videos you have seen in the streets and college parking lot. This story is super long so I will be posting it in parts. Enjoy

The Job Fair Trample

Just like that, throughout college I had always longed for a chance to truly experience the feeling of being trampled by girls in high heels. And just a few months ago, there was a three-day provincial college student job fair. Since our university is the best in the province and even in the surrounding ones, the job fair was held at our campus, specifically on the real grass athletic field. The event ran daily from 10 a.m. to 5 p.m.

The fair took place around the end of October. Because we are located in the south, the weather was mild, around 20 degrees Celsius—not too hot or cold. The first day was reserved for graduate students. Out of curiosity, I went in to take a look and discovered that there were quite a few beautiful women among the graduate students. Many were dressed in black professional suits, with black skirts, nude-colored stockings, and black stiletto heels. The thin heels stepped on the lawn. I tried touching the grass that had been stepped on and found that although it didn’t look too different on the surface, you could feel a distinct depression in the soil underneath.

It was afternoon at the time, and many girls had been there for quite a while. The bathrooms had a constant flow of people. Our school’s stadium has two women’s restrooms located under the stands. One is larger and faces outward, while the other is smaller, with just a few stalls, directly facing the field. About one meter in front of it is the sandpit used for long jump events—apparently for emergency use by athletes during competitions.

On that day, the wind was strong in the morning, so the event organizers flattened out the sandpit and covered it with a thin red carpet. This not only helped keep the sand down but also allowed people to walk over it. Because it was placed right in front of the women’s restroom entrance, many girls walked across it in high heels. It seemed the synthetic carpet material was quite durable—although the heels sank deeply into the carpet, they didn’t puncture it.

Seeing this scene made me feel incredibly excited. I suddenly had a bold idea: to lie underneath the carpet and let those girls in high heels walk over me. Fortunately, our school doesn’t forbid students from staying out late, so I had every opportunity to make this idea a reality.”

The next day, I got up at 4 a.m. I wore a plain long-sleeved shirt and pants, along with a pair of slippers. I brought with me a small shovel I had bought the night before, two thick pieces of plexiglass to protect my eyes, and headed to the empty athletic field. To prevent the carpet from getting punctured, I also brought a large dark red cloth.

I lifted the edge of the carpet near the entrance of the women’s restroom and dug a human-sized hole about 1 meter long and 60 centimeters wide using the shovel—positioned directly in front of the restroom door. I was so excited that I dug the head end closer to the door itself, hoping it would make the experience even more stimulating. After lying down to test it a few times and making sure everything felt right, I leveled the surrounding dirt and left only a small amount near the edge of the pit. I stashed the shovel and my clothes in a corner, then carefully spread the red cloth along the upturned side of the carpet.

I lay down in the pit, placed the plexiglass over my eyes, and then covered myself with both the carpet and the red cloth. This way, even if the carpet got torn under the pressure, anyone who looked down would only see the dark red color below it—certainly not my clothing or anything suspicious. I doubted anyone would actually lift the carpet to investigate.

Next, I filled in the remaining loose dirt by hand around the dips near my neck and stomach, then spread my arms flat with the backs of my hands facing up, making my body flush with the ground. To get at least a partial view of what was happening above the carpet, I made two tiny slits in the carpet directly above the plexiglass. These slits were very small and nearly impossible to notice from a standing position, but since they were only about half a centimeter away from my eyes, they gave me a clear enough view of what was going on above.

Just as I thought everything was perfectly in place, I suddenly realized I might be lying there the entire day. I had to solve the problem of needing to relieve myself. Luckily, since I was in a sandpit, I pulled my underwear aside and filled the inside with sand—this way, any urine would flow straight down through the sand without soaking the carpet.

All of this took over an hour, and it was still dark when I finally finished. I lay there, and since I hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before and everything around me was extremely quiet, my excitement began to settle. Before I knew it, I had dozed off.

After a while, I vaguely heard the sounds of many people talking, moving things, and putting up posters. I knew the company representatives had arrived. Usually, the people sent by companies for recruitment are from the HR department—young, attractive, and capable—because sending young representatives helps bridge the gap with students, and good looks help shape a student’s first impression of the company. Although job competition is fierce nowadays, that mainly applies to students from less prestigious universities competing for positions at well-known companies. For most ordinary companies—especially the ones attending this fair, where most universities are top-tier—the recruitment process is more of a two-way selection. I thought to myself, “It wouldn’t be bad if a few pretty office ladies came.”

Just as my mind was filled with those thoughts, I suddenly felt the carpet shift on my left—I realized someone was approaching. I glanced to the left and saw a well-proportioned woman walking toward the restroom entrance. She looked around 30 years old, probably about 160 cm tall, with average looks and little makeup—likely one of the recruiters. She wore an open-front apricot-colored dress over a beige blouse. The dress wasn’t very long, and she wore nude-colored stockings, giving her a subtly mature charm. I couldn’t see further down due to my angle. She had probably gotten her hands dirty while putting up posters and came to wash them; her hands were spread out at her sides, and her gaze never glanced at the carpet beneath which I was hiding.

Suddenly, I felt a tightening on my hand, followed by immense pressure. It must’ve been the ball of her foot stepping on the back of my left hand. But before I could fully feel the pain, the pressure was gone. Then, in my field of vision, appeared a large foot—large from my perspective—wearing a pair of apricot-colored, open-toe lace-up sandals with thick high heels. It landed just behind the side of my head, and I felt the ground tremble slightly. Upon closer inspection, the shoe seemed to be about size 37 with a heel around 7 cm high. I thought to myself: there’s about a meter between my hand and head, so for this woman, that would’ve been exactly two steps—meaning the foot I saw must’ve been the same one that stepped on my hand.

She quickly walked past me, and I continued to savor the feeling of that momentary trampling. Suddenly, I saw a familiar shoe step over my head, then land squarely on my chest. The sudden weight almost made me cough, and I felt a tight pressure in my chest. The heel landed on one of my ribs, causing a sharp, swelling pain. Her next step landed on my thigh, and then she quickly moved on.

After that, a long time passed with no one else in sight. Then, I heard the loudspeaker on the field announce, “Admission begins,” followed by a burst of noise from the gate’s direction. I knew the job fair had officially started.

I lay there quietly, anticipation churning inside me. Through the tiny gaps in the carpet above, I could faintly see people walking by on the track next to the sandpit. But perhaps because the job fair had just started, or maybe simply because the turnout was light in the morning, the stream of people only lasted a short while. It seemed the female attendees had just begun entering the venue, and so far, no one had come close to where I was hiding.

After about ten minutes, I finally saw a girl heading toward the restroom, dressed in a typical office lady (OL) outfit. However, judging by her path, she wasn’t going to pass near me. A little while later, I heard a faint noise behind my head—likely from that same girl leaving the restroom the way she came.

Then another girl approached, and this time, she was walking directly along the path where I was lying. The first thing I saw was her sweet-looking face. She wasn’t a stunning beauty, but there was something playful and cute about her. As she got closer, I could see her upper body—she was wearing a standard professional outfit with a slanted shoulder bag that looked quite stuffed. Her black blazer was unbuttoned, revealing a crisp white shirt underneath that highlighted a rather full chest, seeming disproportionate to her petite frame. She stood at just under 160 cm (about 5’2”) and probably weighed around 45 kg (roughly 100 lbs), yet her chest looked like at least a C-cup. It seemed like her blazer couldn’t even be buttoned properly because of it.

Her lower half was clad in a typical black office skirt. As I was wondering whether she was wearing nude or black stockings, I suddenly felt pressure on my knees. But I quickly realized she wasn’t wearing high heels. She took a couple more steps, and I felt brief pressure on my hip and chest, then saw her leg in front of me—smooth and wrapped in nude-colored stockings.

Her next step landed directly over my head, and I saw she was wearing ordinary canvas shoes. When her foot came down, the heel landed right at the top of my forehead, but it didn’t hurt at all. Back in school, after workouts, a classmate who weighed over 200 pounds had once stepped on my back, and even that wasn’t too bad—so a girl weighing just 90 pounds (around 40 kg), with a layer of carpet and some sand beneath her feet, was hardly anything.

The more I experienced this, the more convinced I felt that I could get through the day with ease—and with plenty of thrilling moments.

About a minute later, I heard a few sharp clicking sounds above my head. But with the noise from people talking and moving things around on the field, I didn’t pay much attention. I was still eagerly hoping that the cute girl who had stepped over me earlier would return.

Suddenly, I felt a firm pressure on my forehead. I assumed the girl had come back and was stepping on me again, which made me quietly rejoice. But then I saw a black, boat-shaped high heel slide through my field of vision. I could clearly make out the number “36” printed between the sole and the heel, which was a narrow stiletto of about 1 cm in diameter.

Then came a sharp pain in my chest—unlike anything I had ever experienced before. I clenched my teeth to keep from groaning out loud. A moment later, my lower abdomen throbbed with a duller ache. As I lay there stunned, I caught a glimpse of the familiar figure turning to the left and walking out of my sight.

My body trembled slightly as I lay there. I had never felt pain like that before. Only then did I realize—the cute girl hadn’t just gone to the restroom; she had also changed into a pair of high heels before coming back out. That thought stirred a strange mix of excitement in me. I had finally experienced what it was like to be stepped on by a beautiful woman in stilettos. Yes, it hurt a lot—but thinking about her graceful figure and sweet face somehow made it all feel… bearable.

Just as I was thinking back to the previous beautiful girl, a sharp pain shot through my knee, abruptly snapping me out of my thoughts. Caught completely off guard, I nearly cried out loud. I shifted my gaze and saw a girl stepping forward—it was clearly her high heel that had caused the pain. She looked average, with short hair, dressed in the same black professional outfit. Her figure was slightly plump, and she looked to be around 170 cm tall. I estimated her weight to be around 120 jin (about 60 kg or 132 pounds). From my perspective, she looked like a giantess.

By pure misfortune, her next step landed directly on my crotch, with the heel pressing right on the tip of my penis. It felt like she was going to crush it open. Then the same kind of pressure struck my chest, leaving me breathless. Compared to the last woman, the force was greater, but the stinging pain from her heels wasn’t quite as sharp.

After that, her foot landed beside my head. I could see she was wearing a pair of matte-finished, boat-style high heels with thick heels—about 5 cm tall and 2 to 3 cm in diameter. Then her other foot stepped over my face and entered the restroom.

About a minute later, I heard some sounds from behind my head—I knew she was coming out. First her face appeared, then her upper body, followed by her skirt. Before I could even see her nude-colored stockings, a black shoe sole appeared right in front of my eyes.

Then a wave of tingling numbness hit my nose, followed by indescribable pressure. My nasal bridge creaked as if it was going to snap. Her hard sole flattened my nose against my face. The intense pain and numbness made me feel nauseous. My eyes were positioned right between the heel and the ball of her foot, giving me a clear view of the gray-black sole and the brand logo on her shoe.

She continued forward, her heel stomping down on me again, delivering two more waves of pain before she walked away.

After she left, I lay there quietly. My nose was still throbbing with pain—it was clear that she had caused a nosebleed. I could even taste the metallic tang of blood in my mouth. The noise outside was growing louder and louder, which meant more and more people were arriving for the job fair.

Then it suddenly hit me—today was the session for regular undergraduate students. That meant the crowd would be much larger than yesterday. And unlike the graduate students, undergraduates tended to dress up more—many of them would be wearing thinner high heels for their interviews.

I began to feel a bit panicked. This was only the beginning, and I was already in so much pain. What would it be like once people started coming one after another? I started to slightly regret my decision. But I had no way out now. No matter how much it hurt, I couldn’t make a sound. If I did, I’d be in serious trouble—at the very least, I’d become the laughingstock of the entire university. Worse, someone might spread this ‘glorious incident’ online, and I’d end up a subject of ridicule and a cautionary tale for others.

After a long while without anyone approaching, I gradually recovered from the earlier pain. A few more minutes passed before a girl entered my field of vision. Unlike the other job-seeking girls, her appearance stood out. She had delicate, beautiful features with gracefully arched eyebrows and false eyelashes above lightly shadowed eyelids. Her makeup was subtle—her fair skin had a natural rosy glow, likely just a touch of base makeup, which further highlighted her smooth nose bridge and pointed chin. Her light pink lips were coated in a glossy balm, making her look both alluring and innocent.

A diagonal fringe covered part of her forehead, while the rest of her hair was tied back and draped over her shoulders along her slender neck. The hair near the front was loosely waved, dyed a soft golden hue—more elegant than a simple shoulder-length style. She wore a leopard print autumn jacket with the zipper open, revealing a gray inner top. The neckline was parted slightly, though from my angle underneath, I couldn’t enjoy the view.

She wore an ultra-short skirt, and beneath it, her evenly-shaped legs were covered in sheer black stockings. The stockings were thin, with just enough skin tone showing through to be incredibly enticing. Her build was slim, like a model’s, and she wasn’t very tall—her body looked light. But the moment she stepped on me, an intense stabbing pain nearly made me cry out.

Her first step landed on my thigh. It felt like a needle piercing deep into the muscle—I could even feel blood starting to flow from the spot. Her next step brought the heel down on my stomach. Since the belly is soft and there was a thin layer of sand above it, her heel plunged deep into the carpet. I vaguely heard the fibers tearing. I was suddenly thankful for the red cloth I’d added beneath the carpet—if not for it, the hole might have revealed me underneath. But that cloth did nothing to protect me. It felt like her heel had punctured my abdomen.

Her next step landed directly on my forehead. The blinding pain nearly knocked me out. At that moment, I finally got a clear look at her shoes—black suede mid-calf boots, with rows of decorative tassels around the shaft. The heel and sole were a striking red, and the heel itself was around 7 cm tall, with a pointed tip barely more than half a centimeter wide—one of the thinnest I had ever seen. It gleamed faintly with a metallic sheen.

The pain her boot heel inflicted was beyond belief, and the carpet offered no protection at all. Maybe she felt the heel hit something hard, because she shifted her entire body weight onto it and twisted slightly. I instantly felt the skin on my forehead break open as blood poured out, a wave of dizzying pain flooding my head. Fortunately, she must have been in a hurry to use the restroom, because rather than getting curious and stomping a few more times, she walked away immediately.

After a while, I heard the sound of high heels clicking against the marble floor—the beautiful girl from earlier had come out. Luckily, she walked past me from the right side of my body. I figured it must be around 11 a.m. by now. Some of the students who had clear goals had probably already submitted their résumés and left. But the crowd was still growing, and since it had been over an hour, more and more girls were coming to use the restroom.

The pain from that last girl still hadn’t subsided when I saw two more girls approaching, chatting with each other about their job applications. They looked fairly average, with no makeup on, dressed in standard black office-wear. However, they were both wearing women’s dress pants instead of skirts. One of them was just over 160 cm tall, with a proportionate figure. The other was a bit shorter and slightly chubby. I estimated they both weighed close to 100 jin (about 50 kg or 110 pounds).

This time, the taller girl on the right stepped directly on my ankle with her heel. It felt like my bone was about to split in two—my mind screamed in silence. I looked up at her face, but she was completely unaware of what was underfoot, continuing her conversation and laughter with her companion. Her next step landed on my thigh—it felt like a dull knife had been driven into the muscle.

Then her heel struck my chest. Even though I clenched my teeth, the pain was so sharp that I let out a slight sound. She didn’t seem to notice, continuing to walk forward with her friend. I saw now that she was wearing a typical pair of pointed-toe stiletto heels—the kind I had always liked best and were also the most common. The black upper had a subtle shine, the heel was not very tall—around 6 centimeters—and the tip was nearly 1 centimeter thick. The heel was placed directly under the back of the foot, so with each step, her entire body weight was focused directly on the heel as it landed.

Most of the girls attending the job fair today were wearing this type of heel. But what used to be my favorite kind of high heel had now become a source of near-unbearable pain.

Just as they went inside, another girl arrived. She had a round face with a hint of baby fat and neatly trimmed bangs across her forehead, giving her a very cute appearance. She was wearing a white professional outfit with a pink undergarment visible at the neckline, a white skirt, and nude-colored stockings.

She approached from the side, so I had only just seen her face when a sharp pain shot through my chest—her heel had landed squarely on my nipple. Then the other shoe filled my vision: a slender calf clad in creamy white peep-toe stilettos, the heel about 1 centimeter thick. As she stepped down, it landed right on the left side of my face, nearly crushing my cheekbone. The dizziness from the pain was so overwhelming I didn’t even register when she left.

Not even a minute later, just as I was starting to recover, I heard someone inside the restroom say, ‘I’ll wait for you outside,’ followed by the click-clack of heels. I knew one of them was coming back out. The first to emerge was the taller girl from earlier. Her foot landed on my chest again—but this time she didn’t keep walking. Instead, she placed her other foot sideways across my stomach, then turned her body slightly toward the restroom door.

Perhaps she felt her stance on my stomach was a bit unstable, so she adjusted her position, placing her feet in a T-shape and folding her hands gently over her lower abdomen. She looked calm and graceful—but all I could feel was overwhelming pain. Her full weight shifted onto the heel pressing into my stomach, while her front foot stepped on my ribs. The carpet deeply indented beneath the pressure of her heel, and I could feel it almost piercing my abdomen.

She must have noticed the difference in texture beneath her heels—one foot on something soft, the other hard—because she looked down at the carpet and shifted slightly from side to side. Every movement sent new waves of pain through me, and I was terrified she might discover me. Thankfully, after less than 30 seconds, she turned her body—I assumed her friend had just come out. My eyes were still focused on her when suddenly another shoe sole dropped into view, stomping down hard on my already-injured nose.

The front of the foot struck perfectly on my nose, pressing down with full force. I heard my nasal bridge crack again, sending waves of dizziness through my head. Then, in succession, both of their heels struck my body again and again—each step sharp as a needle—while the girls, unaware of what was beneath them, continued chatting and laughing as they walked away.

Then another girl came along. She wore silver-rimmed glasses and wasn’t particularly attractive—her duck-egg-shaped face had slightly thick lips, giving her a rather ordinary appearance. Her outfit was the typical professional attire. But when she stepped on my thigh, I felt a small wave of relief. Maybe she had finished her interview and changed her shoes—I could tell she was wearing canvas sneakers.

She then stepped on my stomach and chest. After enduring repeated torture from high heels, even though her steps still made my chest feel tight, her lighter footfalls felt almost like a massage in comparison. But she soon proved me completely wrong. Her right foot came down directly on my face. I caught a glimpse of the tread pattern on her sole with my left eye—then everything went dark. An enormous pressure pinned my head into the sand.

Even after she walked away, my left eye was seeing stars, and my vision stayed blurry for quite some time. Thankfully, the carpet hadn’t shifted. If the viewing slit in front of me had been moved out of alignment, I would’ve been trapped in total darkness, reduced to nothing more than a piece of the ground.

I kept my eyes fixed forward, watching for anyone else approaching. Just two hours ago, I was eagerly hoping for more people. Now, I was praying for the crowd to thin. But my prayers went unanswered. Soon, another girl showed up. Perhaps because it was getting close to noon and the temperature was rising, she had taken off her blazer and was now in a white long-sleeved T-shirt and black slacks.

She walked straight toward the restroom, heading directly over me. Just as I braced for the impact, she suddenly stepped aside at an angle. My heart jumped—I thought she had discovered me. But just as I was tensing up, everything went dark again. Then an intense, familiar pain exploded across the right side of my face, nearly making me cry out. The dizziness was so overwhelming that the pain from the high heels that followed almost felt dulled in comparison.

I only vaguely saw a white figure walking away. It wasn’t until both the girl who had stepped on me and the one ahead of me disappeared from view that I realized: the one who had stepped on my face again was the same cute girl from earlier. The girl ahead of her had only stepped aside to give her room.

After that, the crowd continued to come and go in waves. Nearly every person who stepped on me was wearing high heels—mostly the common pointed-toe stiletto pumps I mentioned earlier. There were also a few wearing high-heeled sandals or sneakers. The thin carpet provided almost no protection; its greatest function was probably just to give the girls better footing when stepping on me, helping them keep their balance without slipping. But every step left a small dent in my body.

My face—especially my nose—was stepped on several more times. Thankfully, the dark red carpet helped conceal the blood from my nosebleeds. Fortunately, the terrifying kind of shoes like the black suede boots from earlier didn’t show up again. I figured the more fashion-conscious girls probably liked to sleep in, and with the pleasant weather—neither hot nor cold—they were more likely to be active in the afternoon or evening.

As time went on, another dozen or so girls walked over me. I began to hear food vendors calling out in the distance. Because the job fair was so large, and there were far more undergraduate attendees than graduate students, many company booths had long lines. It could take a long time just to hand in one résumé. Since leaving and re-entering the event could take hours, the school allowed the cafeteria to set up food stands at the fair site. This way, people who didn’t want to leave could eat without exiting the venue.

At this point, fewer people were leaving, while more and more were still arriving. The number of people inside was approaching its peak. I also noticed that more girls were coming to use the restroom, walking with increasing urgency. The intervals between tramplings became shorter and shorter, leaving me with less and less time to recover.

The nightmare of being trampled continued without end. Words could hardly describe the pain I was enduring. Nearly every part of my body imaginable had been stepped on by heels. One time, a girl’s heel landed squarely on my testicles—I shook all over from the pain. It felt like they were going to burst. I let out a faint groan, but she was rushing to the restroom and didn’t notice at all. Worse, two steps later, her heel came down squarely on my clenched jaw. My lips were torn open on the spot, my mouth filled with the taste of blood. It felt like my front teeth had been struck by a hammer—they were noticeably loose. A few more hits and I was sure they’d fall out.

Another time, a girl’s heel—barely a centimeter thick—landed directly on the tip of my penis. The pain was so sharp my body reflexively tried to curl up. I was almost certain it was bleeding, but of course I couldn’t reach down to check. My left hand had also been stepped on by a girl wearing thin-heeled sandals—the pain was so intense that my whole arm trembled. The skin broke instantly, and it felt like the bones underneath had been dislocated.

Just like that, another half hour passed. I heard voices nearby and realized it was already noon. Many people were now gathering around the food stalls. I noticed the flow of people over me suddenly became much denser—probably because many girls wanted to wash their hands before eating. High heels, sandals, canvas shoes, running shoes—all rained down on my body like droplets. Just as the pain from previous steps began to fade, fresh waves of pain quickly followed.

I could feel blood slowly seeping from multiple parts of my body where my skin had been broken from repeated stomping by heels, which only intensified the pain of each new step. My lips had long since been mangled beyond recognition. My nose had been flattened against my face countless times—thankfully the bridge hadn’t broken yet. The constant pain radiating through my body was making me feel numb.

Some time later, the number of people stepping on me started to thin out. Probably most of those washing their hands had already done so, and now only the ones with pressing biological needs were heading to the restroom. Many of them had stood in line for over an hour and just eaten—naturally, the first thing they’d want to do was find a bathroom.

I saw a girl in professional attire walking directly toward the restroom entrance. She stepped on me, but she didn’t weigh much and wasn’t wearing heels—probably took them off before lunch because they were too tiring. I’d grown used to soft-soled flats like hers and didn’t feel much pain. She walked two more steps forward. I saw she was wearing a simple pair of flip-flops, her cute toes exposed at the front. Her left foot landed directly on the right side of my face. Unexpectedly, her right foot then came down on the left side of my face. With both feet planted close together, she stood in place.

My vision went black, and a chill ran down my spine as realization set in. I couldn’t see what was inside the restroom, but she clearly could. She must have seen that it was occupied, so she lined up outside—right on top of me. A wave of fear surged through me. If just being walked on by high heels hurt so much, how painful would it be to have girls unknowingly stand on me? Especially on my chest and head—the feeling is completely different from standing on sand. Walking might not raise suspicion, but standing still? What if someone noticed? I didn’t dare finish that thought.

The girl standing on my face kept shifting her weight slightly from foot to foot, as if puzzled by how firm and uneven the ‘sand’ beneath her was. Just as I had feared, she wasn’t leaving. And before she did, I felt new pressure on my legs. Thankfully, it wasn’t from a heel—it felt like the sole of a wedge sandal. The weight soon shifted to my chest, and she came to a stop right after the girl standing on my face.

I felt a wave of tightness in my chest, but it was still bearable. The problem was, she seemed impatient. Her body kept shifting, and she occasionally lifted her foot to stomp a couple of times, making it extremely uncomfortable. But I knew I wouldn’t make a sound—not with the first girl’s feet still firmly planted on my face.

Then I heard a sound from the direction of the restroom door—someone was coming out. The girl in flip-flops who had been standing on my face lifted her feet and walked inside. The girl standing on my chest stepped forward, though a bit farther than expected—her heel landed right on my forehead, no longer covering my eyes. I couldn’t see her face, but I could see her slim figure dressed in business attire: black slacks and a pair of black pointed-toe lace-up leather shoes beneath the pant legs. The shoes had wedge heels, about 3 centimeters wide.

She still seemed restless as she waited. Her shoes repeatedly lifted off and then stomped back down—squarely on my forehead—sending fresh waves of dizziness through my head. A few times, the sharp toe of her shoe landed first, like a chisel pounding into my face. The pain was excruciating.

Just then, I heard a burst of cheerful laughter from my right side. I turned my gaze and saw three girls approaching. The two on the right wore black office-style outfits. The girl on the left, apparently feeling warm, wore a white blouse. All three wore black skirts and nude-colored stockings. They chatted among themselves as they walked in my direction. Originally, they weren’t going to pass directly over me—but upon seeing a line, they naturally came over to queue up, making me their stepping stone.

Someone exited the restroom, and the girl with the wedge heels who had been standing on my forehead moved away. The three new girls took her place. First, the girl in the white blouse stepped directly onto my face, then turned slightly to chat with her friends. I saw that she was wearing a pair of matte-finished, boat-style high heels. The heels were about 5 cm tall and a little over 1 cm thick.

Although she looked like she weighed only around 90 jin (about 45 kg or 100 pounds), both of her heels landed squarely on the left side of my face. She kept shifting her weight, sending sharp pain through my cheek. Next, the girl in the middle stepped onto my chest. Her feet were in a T-stance, facing forward. Through the gap between the shoes on my face, I could see her gently placing her hands on her lower abdomen. Her gentle and elegant face gave off an aura of grace, and now and then, she smiled with stunning beauty. But her heels were anything but gentle. They were extremely thin—definitely less than a centimeter thick—and her weight rested entirely on her right heel. It dug deep into my ribcage, almost puncturing the skin.

The third girl wore pink glasses and had short hair. Judging by her lively expression, she seemed like the energetic and active type. She also wore high heels, and the 1 cm-thick heel of her shoe landed right at the root of my thigh. Her weight shifted there, causing the carpet and my skin to dent deeply beneath her. Her other leg landed on my lower stomach, but thankfully without much pressure.

I was in absolute agony. The girl standing on my face was chatting with her friends behind her, casually shifting her body back and forth. With each sway, her feet moved slightly, and every movement sent a sharp jolt of pain through my face. In contrast, the gentle-looking girl on my chest remained perfectly still—but that was worse. Her thin stiletto heel was firmly planted into my rib, and the searing pain made me feel like I would rather die.

The girl behind kept shifting her weight between my upper thigh and lower abdomen. I was constantly worried that she’d step directly on my penis or testicles. Even though she hadn’t yet, the pain in that area was already overwhelming. Then, I felt a fresh wave of pain at my knee—another person had stepped there. My body was now completely covered with girls waiting in line for the restroom. I had no idea if more were lined up behind them, but it didn’t matter anymore. I no longer wished for them to move away—because I knew that even if they did, new ones would immediately take their place.

All I could do now was pray for the job fair to end as quickly as possible. But the continuous, excruciating pain reminded me that two-thirds of the event still remained—and this torture would continue for hours. Just as I clenched my teeth to bear it, a tremendous force slammed down on my groin. The girl who had been standing at the root of my thigh had now brought her other foot down onto my crotch. Her sole pressed against my penis, and her heel landed squarely on my testicles. Then she stomped down with full strength, her heel plunging deep into the carpet—nearly piercing through my scrotum.

The pain was so unbearable that I let out a groan. But since the girls were still chatting, none of them noticed. A moment later, the line moved forward, and the graceful girl stepped onto my face. I saw that she was wearing a pair of leopard-print, pointed-toe high heels. The heels were 6 cm tall, with a horseshoe-shaped tip, the widest part no more than 8 millimeters. Her first step landed with her forefoot pressing on my nose and her heel striking the area just above my throat. She must have felt that the ground beneath her heel was unusually soft while the front part was harder.

She glanced down slightly, then brought her left heel down onto my forehead and lifted her right foot—slamming it directly onto my face. The heel hit the bridge of my nose perfectly. I heard the same cracking sound as before—but this time louder. Unlike the others who had simply stepped on me and walked away, she shifted her full body weight onto that heel and planted both feet in a T-shape again. I felt the bridge of my nose crack once, then—crack!—completely shatter.

She must have thought it was a pebble breaking underfoot, because she didn’t react. Her heel continued to bear most of her weight, pressing into my crushed nasal bone. The waves of pain and blunt trauma overwhelmed me completely. My vision blurred, and then everything went black as I lost consciousness