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Story Notes:

This story will have three sub-parts: Life as a footwear, as a doormat and as a toilet.

Author's Chapter Notes:

This chapter is supposed to serve as a background for the rest of the first part of the story. The details of my transformation into a shoe are described.

It was quite dark inside. The room was perfectly silent. I was laying on my back facing the ceiling and I could feel the  insulated floor underneath. Something was wrong. I was in an extremely awkward position. My arms were stretching up, palms clasped together and facing me, forming a loop. My knees were touching each other and were bent at an angle such that my thighs and legs formed an arch. Despite the discomfort, I couldn't move . It was as if I had been kept in a metal case. But this was not the biggest of my worries. My mouth was open and I could feel that I had a huge tongue, jutting out of my mouth all the way down to my knees and covering my ventral body almost entirely. The cold air was slowly turning it dry. Suddenly the room started moving and I toppled to one of the walls, crashing into something that seemed metallic. A giant hand had ripped the ceiling open and held me by my tongue-covered-waist in its fist. My hands and legs were brushed with a shiner and a varnish like substance was mercilessly rubbed onto my tongue.

It gradually became clear to me - I was a shoe. A woman's sandal yet to be purchased. I was kept on a cold surface that sent chills down my spine. I still couldn't see or hear anything but it all made sense to me now. While I was waiting for someone to come and keep me underneath her foot, I recalled my punishment - two years as a woman's shoe, three years as a doormat, five years as a public toilet followed by a never ending cycle of getting eaten, digested and recycled. This was the new law. Jails were expensive and criminals like me were supposed to spend their term in "public service".  My alleged crime was against a woman, so I was punished to serve women for my entire life.

The breathing-shoes or so we are called, are quite popular in the market. Our tongue is flattened so that it covers a large area and  forms a soft cushion and an insole.  Our hands are the strap that goes over the top of the foot and our legs form the heel. We come in two varieties, the male-breathing shoe is softer where the heel of the foot touches the insole while the female-shoe feels softer under the balls of the foot - for obvious reasons. Our tongue provides warmth to the foot in mild winter and keeps it sweat free during the summer. Our design is quite efficient and we survive only on the dirt and sweat of the owner. Efficiency demands that we do not spend energy on unnecessary sensory inputs, and therefore we are not provided with vision or hearing. Our olfaction and gustatory inputs function as a sweat detector while the perception of pressure and pain is necessary from the point of view of punishment. Speaking is unnecessary for a shoe, so our vocal chords are removed. In addition to this, some minor structural changes are also required. Sometimes our legs are chopped to alter the heel size. Our bones are also reinforced to withstand stress for a prolonged period of time and lungs to tolerate negligible levels of oxygen.

Using us for more than 50 hours per week  gives the owner a special discount while buying the next pair of shoes. So the owners often wear us for a long duration until we are completely broken.  Several of our owners rejoice at serving their country by punishing a criminal underneath their feet and they are encouraged to treat us as roughly as they can. We are eventually sent back to the factory for recycling where we are transformed into other inanimate objects like doormats, garbage bins, foot stools, panties, socks, tampons, sanitary pads and sometimes, toilets.

I was a size 7 sandal, meant for the left foot. My straps were blue and my legs formed a small two inch heel. In my previous life, I was quite fat, so I had been flattened to accommodate a slightly broad foot. Before being put to sale, however, I needed to undergo some training. Using us is supposed to be easy. If the wearer stomps hard on the ground once, then it means that we need to stiffen the insole and press it hard against the arch of the foot, twice means that we need to relax it and kicking us without wearing us is an instruction to lick the sole and take the tongue inside the mouth, like a downward escalator, and consume our food - a mixture of sweat, grit, dirt and whatever our goddess is kind enough to offer us. These instructions were given to me before my transformation by Lady Zara.

She was the owner of the shoe store I was being sold at. She was in her late thirties, with long brown hair and soft pale white skin. She weighed about 140 pounds and had the countenance of a mature but beautiful woman with her slightly thin nose, hazel eyes and luscious full lips. She took me in her hands, caressing my texture and kept me on the floor for testing. Of course, I was unaware of all this, and all I could feel at that time was someone picking me up once again and putting me on the floor. I waited for something to happen. Lady Zara was checking a message on her phone. A minute passed and I kept on waiting. Finally, she sent her foot sliding over the tip of my broad tongue above my knees, wriggled her toes and pushed them inside, slowly covering my entire tongue and face under her divine foot. 

I could feel the slightly rough skin under her heels over my tongue. Her arches were soft and I smelled the fragrance of lavender oil mixed with her natural foot aroma. I was completely crushed and felt that my bones would snap at any moment. I felt her toes wriggling at my forehead.

"I must say, these sandals are extremely comfortable, Agnes!" She told the saleswoman who was another attractive brunette in her mid-twenties.

 While I was feeling the contours of the wrinkles of her soles on my wide tongue, the pressure suddenly increased as she placed her weight entirely on  me to wear the other shoe. The balls of her foot were tightly pressed against my nose, flattening it like a tiny cherry. My bones and muscles were designed to endure this for lifetime, but my physical sensations did not understand this. Meanwhile, my manhood, under the blanket of my own tongue was suffering its fate below Lady Zara's mighty heels. I wanted to cry but I had no eyes. I begged her to stop - I wish I could. But there was no way out - except accepting my fate as a woman's sandal. My only purpose in life was to protect the foot of a mighty goddess from weather and dirt and my only pleasure in life was to ingest the sweat of her soles and breathe through the aroma of her toes. I was nothing, but a mere inanimate object, as worthless as dirt sticking to Lady Zara's toes. Strangely, I part of me was grateful to her - at least the lady I was serving had a divine personality.

While I was lost in these thoughts, she was finished wearing me and my companion - a female breathing-shoe whom I didn't know then. Her weight on me reduced as she was now standing on both her feet, looking at them in the mirror and appreciating how pretty they looked. She started walking and her weight shifted on me again, as she used her other foot to take a stride. Within a moment I felt weightless as I was flying with her foot and a second later her entire weight came crashing down again. She was just introducing me to my new life. And it seemed scary.

"I was told that these ones are serving for the first time, so they need some training." She giggled.

"I am sure they will learn pretty quickly under your guidance, Lady Zara!"  Agnes quipped.

"Sure, they would. Pathetic criminals!" With that she stomped her foot that owned me on the ground. The back of my head hit the ground with a thud, but I tightened her insole and tried to lick her arch as I had been instructed. She left me in that state for a few minutes. Satisfied with the rigidity of my tongue, she ordered me to relax it, by stomping me twice on the ground.

"Let's check how good they are with the sweat removal, lady Zara!"

"Sure, dear. Could you please turn on the treadmill?"

I was not able to hear any of this at that stage. Truth be told, the only thing I was going to feel for the next several years was the pressure of someone's foot on my tongue and my back rubbing against all kinds of filth.

As soon as my back made the contact with the treadmill, I was filled with horror. She was about to run. Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud! I was kicked countless number of times during the next few minutes and those were without doubt the most painful moments of my life. So far. Her foot started sweating and I was afraid that I was going to drown in her perspiration. This went on for about twenty minutes. My tongue was about to burst like a water balloon and my back was slightly bruised because of getting rubbed against the treadmill.

Finally, she stepped down. Her pressure on me decreased and I felt that she sat down. She removed her foot from my face, unclasped my palms and slowly freed me from my tormentor. Just when I was about to take a deep breath, her foot came crashing down on me, seemingly dislocating every joint of my body. I remembered the instructions. When I felt that her sole was a centimetre or so away from my tongue, I flexed my tongue upwards making contact with the entire foot and started rolling it inside my mouth. I was thirsty, and all the sweat and dirt from her soles went all the way down to my throat. My carpet like tongue completely stuffed my mouth and I closed my jaw for the first time after several hours. But I could still sense her heated sole over my body. She wanted something else. I just couldn't figure out.

She pushed her foot on me with all her weight and I finally understood. I kissed her arch as passionately as I could, as if I wanted to say "Thank you, lady Zara, for giving me the privilege of being your shoe!". "It is a sign of respect and gratitude to the owner", she told me in the briefing session before my transformation and I simply obeyed those instructions.

She finally removed her foot. I was laying down gasping for breath and struggling to move my muscles. My struggle was not perceptible outside. After all, I was only a sandal.

"These ones are good at absorbing sweat. Could you please polish them once again and keep them on the shelf, my dear? We are expecting an important customer in a few minutes."

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