Feet

You shudder as you stare at the single word on the paper before you: "feet." At least you could theoretically avoid dildos, but there's no getting around feet. Almost everyone has them, after all. Even worse, you've always hated feet. The smell makes you sick and they just look ugly. You try to avoid thinking about it and get some more sleep before your classes today.

You wake up some time later and go about your morning routine. All the while, the paper's been on the back of your mind. You know there's no use worrying about it. After all, real or fake, it's not really under your control. Still, if anything happens like last night... you don't know how you'd live it down.

Your morning routine goes normally enough. Thankfully, you seem to be exempt from any attraction to your own feet, otherwise you'd have trouble leaving the apartment. When you reach for the doorknob to leave, you're hit with a familiar odor: Tristan's well-worn running sneakers. He always leaves them by the door, and you're always **** to endure the smell when you enter or exit. You've begged him to toss them out, but he refuses. Normally, all you feel is mild revulsion, but this time, your cock swells as you inhale the scent. Your hand trembles against the doorknob as your cock presses against your pants. You can't help yourself, you HAVE to get a better smell. You crouch down and grab a shoe. You slowly bring the opening to your nose and press the dampened insole against your face. Your eyes cross as you take a huge whiff of the footy scent. You can't help but to grope your cock through your pants as you hungrily suck up the odor of your roommate's shoes. You even stick your tongue out to lap at the foot sweat that soaks the insole, moaning as the salty taste invades your mouth.