Busy Night At Home (Lucy POV #3)

I decided to walk home when school ended for two reasons. The first was that taking the bus would have been a humiliating experience. However I suppose I will have to face that demon sooner rather than later since my honors schedule requires that I have as much time to study as possible. The second reason was because I was trying to delay completing my behavior homework.

I walked on the edge of peoples' lawns because the sidewalk felt rough on my feet. Keeping my head down to avoid dog poop, I looked back on my day as I headed home. Everyone who had to sit next to me in class spent the period with their shirt over their nose. No one seemed to mind being rude while telling me how bad I smelled.

At least two of my friends sat with me at lunch out of pity. They also kept their noses in their shirts, taking quick bites of their food to minimize exposure. We tried using small talk to ignore the elephant in the room until the first time I sniffed my hands in front of them. Thats when they admitted to hearing about my behavior homework.

"I can't believe you have to waste an hour smelling your Mom and Dad's feet. We have enough homework as it is."

My friend was right about the amount of work I needed to do. I had a math problem sheet and a history report to write. Not to mention I needed to write a page about how fun it would be to play with Tits McGee's massive honkers. I couldn't forget to use at least ten of our vocabulary words.

My mind snapped back to the present when I approached my house. I swung my backpack off my shoulder and closed the door behind me. I started to slide one of the moist socks off my hand. When I realized that home was no longer a sanctuary, I rolled it back down my wrist in disappointment.

"Welcome home, honey!"

My mom must have heard me enter the house. I slowly headed towards the sound of her voice, less than eager to inform her of my assignment. I finally made it in the kitchen and was surprised by a couple of things.

My mom was wearing her running outfit which consisted of a loose t-shirt, spandex shorts, and black running shoes. This was odd because she usually runs in the morning. What really caught my attention was the laundry bag sitting on the table. The bag that was sealed with a draw-string appeared to be half filled.

Mom addressed me with an upbeat tone before I could study it further.

"Your school's Female Uniform Inspector and Behavior Modifier stopped by earlier. I'm surprised you took so long to get home, sweetie."

My heart sank at the idea that Michael the pervert even knew where I lived, let alone was in my house.

"Oh... um... I take it you know about my behavior homework?"

Mom then stepped closer to me and softly grabbed my sock-hands, holding them in-between us. She seemed completely unbothered by the smell. Maybe she figured that we were all going to have to get used to it.

"Yes I do. Michael said that our feet should be as sweaty as possible. So I guess I'm lucky you walked home. It gave me some time for a quick jog. Daddy is going to the health club on the way home too."

I scrunched my face upon hearing that my mom jogged for the sole purpose of making her feet stink.

"So, what's with the bag?" I asked while gesturing my head in the direction of the table.

"Oh, he was kind enough to search his hamper for dirty socks you could wear. Come on! You've got homework!"

Tightening her grip on my hands, Mom pulled me into the living room. She sat on the edge of the couch and removed her shoes and socks. Then she looked at me and patted on the cushion next to her.

I sighed as I sat beside her. Once I was seated, mom swung her legs over my lap. With a warm smile, she raised her arm towards me and her hand made a 'gimme gimme' motion.

"Hand me your phone, baby. I'll film you sniffing my feet."

I obeyed and proceeded to watch as she set up the recording. Then she lifted her leg and singled me to scoot down the couch. Once I settled in my new position, I held my mom's sweaty foot near my face.

"State your name and home room for the camera. Then tell us about your assignment, honey."

Unlike Mom, I was horribly embarrassed about what I am about to do. Why did household members have to love behavior homework so much?

"My name is Lucy and I am in Tits McGee's homeroom. My behavior homework is to sniff my Mom and Dad's feet for a half hour each. Then I have to write about my experience."

Mom nodded at me to begin. I slowly moved her foot closer to my face and give it a small sniff. Apparently Mom didn't find that satisfactory as she forcefully pushed her foot into my face. Unprepared for the amount of ****, my head snapped back but she didn't allow my nose to escape.

"Do it right, missy. Get a good whiff of Mommy's dawgs!"

I adjusted for the amount of pressure Mom was applying to my face and was able to straighten my head. My nose was firmly planted in the middle of her toes. Mother is a tall, athletic woman and the size of her feet matched that description. The bottom of her foot hung a few inches below my chin.

Her sweat smeared across my face as she wiggled her toes right underneath my eyes. Taking in deep breadths through my nose, I could tell her jog accomplished her mission. It smelled absolutely terrible. Michael's sock smelled worse but Mom's feet were a close second.

Satisfied with my effort, Mom turned on the TV but continued to hold the phone in her hands. We spent the next half hour on the couch like this. Mom watching her show casually while shoving her sweaty foot in my face. I was to absorbed in my assignment to watch, which was a shame because I really could have used something to take the smell off my mind.

Mom lifted her other foot at the fifteen minute mark, letting me know it was time to switch. I took a breadth and then continued my intense sniffs for the duration of my task. By the time it was over I was feeling light headed.

"You did a great job, Lucy! Now, go write your paragraph while the smell is still fresh in your head."

Mom nudged her foot up my nose one last time to solidify her point.

"Fresh is definitely not the word I am going to use." I said sarcastically in an attempt to cope with degradation I had just been put through.

Mom only giggled, handed back my phone, and shoed me up to my room.

Although I tend to work better when writing manually, I decided to type out my homework on my computer. I was fairly certain I could write with my sock hands, but it would've significantly slowed me down. It took some time getting used to the new situation, but I eventually finished my paragraph about sniffing Mom's feet. I compared the smell to moldy cheese and describe how the sweat felt slimy as her toes ruined my make up.

By the time I heard Dad enter the house, I had moved onto my English homework. He knocked on my door just as I ended a paragraph on how I'd love to slap Tits McGee's heavy hooters and see them swing like pendulums. I sighed in frustration at the interruption. Even if it was for a normal reason instead of sniffing my father's sweaty feet, pausing my work is far from ideal. My essay is still several pages away from being complete and that's before I begin making edits.

I was hoping I'd at least get through the nipple section of my outline before Dad returned. Unfortunately, I missed that goal by a mile. Typing may have been faster than writing, but still proved to be a troublesome hindrance. With my fingers trapped within Micheal's socks, I'm **** to type one key at a time like a toddler. I haven't even touched on how students overwhelmed by finals could relax by using Tits McGee's fat honkers as stress balls. At this rate, it'll be ages before I get to dunking my teacher's hard nipples in a variety of sauces like they're chicken nuggets.

After taking a demoralizing glance over my essay outline, I got up to open the door for my father. Upon letting him in, I saw that he was also in his gym clothes. His forehead was still glistening with sweat. He sat on my bed before he spoke. I wish he would have asked considering he was still soaked, but I guess it was too late to complain.

"I heard you did a good job on your assignment with Mom. It sounded like you really buried your nose in her toes, just like the go-getter I know you are. Keep up that energy and help take my shoes off, it's time to finish strong! "

I rolled my chair to the foot of the bed where he placed his foot in my lap. I untied his shoe and removed his sock then I did the same for the other. I handed him my phone with out him asking and immediately began sniffing. I just wanted to get it over with.

Dad's was much larger and wider than Mom's. I felt hair under my fingers as I gripped around the top of his foot. Unlike Mom, who just shoved her toes into my nose, Dad rubbed his foot up and down my face. His gross sweat plastered my face. However, at least it gave me more chances to catch my breadth this way.

"Thats it, baby. Deeeep breadths. Sniff up Daddy's foot stank." He tried to encourage me from behind my phone.

When I switched to the other foot, my mind completely disassociated from the situation. I tried thinking about literally anything else other than my Dad rubbing his big, disgusting, foot in my face.

Eventually time was up and my father exited my room. I took a moment to recuperate and then got back to my other homework. After what felt like an eternity, I wrapped up English with a few sentences on how I suspect I could get a mouth full of milk if I sucked hard enough on Tits McGee's FunBags. Then I wrote a quick paragraph on how Dad's foot smelled so bad that I almost passed out.

Feeling exhausted, I decided that the rest of my work could wait for the morning and went to shower. I undressed in the bathroom, happy to finally throw Michael's disgusting socks in the hamper.

I cleansed my face from of my parents' stale foot sweat. However, no matter how much I scrubbed, I could still smell a hint of feet on my hands. After several minutes of soaping my face, I gave up and moved to the rest of my body. Then I stepped out of the shower and dried myself before throwing on my pajamas, doing my best to ignore the lingering odor. When I entered my bedroom, I found another pair of used socks resting on my pillow. Mom must have laid them out for me.

I picked one of the socks up and gave it a curious sniff. My head instantly whipped back and I instinctively said "Woah" to myself, shocked by the pungent stench. Marinating in that laundry bag had somehow made this pair smell worse than the ones he gave me today.

Sighing in defeat for what had to be the hundredth time today, I rolled the socks onto my hands. This specific pair were mid-calfs so they reached my elbows, covering even more of my skin in my classmate's odor. Why did I even bother with showering? I could feel the disgusting scent radiating up from my arms the moment I slid them on.

**** for a temporary escape, I decided to go to bed early. I flicked the light off and crawled into bed. Falling asleep proved to be more than challenging with the smell of old gym socks filling my nose. I tossed and turned throughout the sheets. My bed sheets and pillowcases were definitely going to absorb the abhorrent scent. I tried stuffing my hands underneath my pillow, but the stench was so strong that it permeated through. At my breaking point, I screeched on the top of my lungs into my blanket.

After hours of rolling around, I finally started to drift asleep from exhaustion. Then suddenly, my phone lit up with a loud notification. I lazily grabbed it off my night stand and saw a text from Michael which read 'Uniform Check'.

I groaned angrily with disdain and resentment as I tossed the covers off my body. Seriously? Right now? Was he spying on me, waiting for the perfect time to strike?

Getting up from my bed, I stumbled over to the light switch. Then I stood in front of my mirror and took a picture with one sock-hand holding my phone and the other raised in the air to show him I'm not breaking his rules.

I sent him the picture, not caring that I'm in pajamas, and captioned the message with 'Happy?'

'Yup. See you tomorrow :)' was his response.

I rolled my eyes and plopped myself back into bed. I passed out on the spot, not even bothering to turn off the lights. My only hope was that my dreams would be better than the nightmare my life has become.