I woke as the inside of her shoe, or maybe I was more. I knew these shoes well as I’d stared longingly at them daily as she played and dangled them off her feet at the desk in front of me. I’d daydreamed about removing them with my teeth and tasting every inch of her putrid feet. Nothing excited me more than to taste her sweat as it would run down my throat and fill my world with her foot. 

I just never imagined I’d become them. Never thought about how the sweat would burn and itch as it covered my body. Never thought about how I would choke for air and only breathe in a stink so vile. I doubt she even knew I was alive, and with each step I doubted it even more. She was sweating around me, crushing me under her foot, and I was nothing more than a shoe.

She was still wearing the grey tights from when I hit on her in the store this morning, and now I was pinned below her toes, tasting the sweat absorbed into them as she rubbed into me. My face was curved with the indents warped by the sweat and weight of her toes. Ridges that were filled with smelly grime and toejam that she now massaged into my mouth and nose with every wiggle and scrunch of her toes. Each flex grated into me with those grey tights and each step pounded me further into a pain so intense that I no longer heard myself screaming.

It stopped. I fell to the floor. Bright daylight rushed in from the end as her toes pulled back and out of me. The air was so cold and stunk a little as it brushed along her foot to reach my mouth and nose, but it was so much better and I felt like a man again. I watched the foot pull further away from the opening. The light grew and the air freshened everything around me, even the toejam and wet film that now covered every inch of me. I felt her filth drying on me and it itched terribly, but I couldn’t move. I was nothing but a leather clog of a girl sitting and not even a sound escaped this tomb as I screamed for someone to notice and save me.

I could smell coffee. It must be in a shop where she is sitting. Maybe at one of the tables near the window. The ground around me moved and I could hear Elisa talking. She was a waitress at the coffee shop. She was talking to the girl and I could smell her in the air that came to me. Elisa was beautiful. Why couldn’t I be on her feet? She had dark black hair and wore tight black clothes and a fur coat. She always revealed just enough to make me want her, and so many times before we’d shared lips as we’d kiss and filled our bodies with beer. I never thought how much I’d miss the very taste of her, and now I was so close, too close.

I watched those grey tights come. The light dimmed and the air was once again filled with nothing more than her sweaty feet. Now her toes were cold and they wiggled and rubbed into my mouth and crushed my eyes as they tried to warm up. The pain of her standing on my face was something I’d almost forgotten in those moments, but now it was back and I broke beneath her weight, reforming with the rise of her foot. Crushing under it and wishing I was dead. We must of walked for miles. I think I lost conciousness a few times. The air outside felt warmer and the ground was a bit softer. 

We were walking on a carpet. I must have been in her house. She pulled out of me and I fell to the floor. The opening showed me the blankets of a bed for a moment, then her fingers reached in and pinched as she pulled me up. Her face looked in the shoe and smiled as our eyes met. Her voice was so loud and something wasn’t right about her eyes as she talked. She thought it was funny that I was her shoe. She knew I’d been turned, and was told to just use me as she had her non-human clog, but she wanted to see my face. Wanted to see what living under her stinky foot had done to the cocky boy who stared and hit on her all the time. She laughed at me and winked.

Her hand revealed a sock. A white running sock that didn’t look so clean. She pushed it into the opening and it reached my face. A yellow grime and an odor came from it and I could see where her toes had pressed into it, leaving an imprint of dirt. I could hear her laughing through the thick leather that was both myself and my prison. I hid something hard. Then it got really dark. I heard the closing of a door and then everything got real quiet. I wanted to close my eyes but that filthy running sock had been pressed so close that even in the darkness I knew it was there. The sweat was drying in and on me and I finally closed my eyes as I gave up and escaped to the dreams of sleep outside her bedroom.