Sock Drawer!

...sock drawer!” She plucks him from the humid toe crevice he was trapped in. It took a concerted effort to accomplish; he was stuck fast to her flesh, her sweat thick enough that even her huge, meaty fingers had trouble pulling him out of there.

Eventually, she managed to rip him off of her foot, which was accompanied by a sound not unlike velcro being torn. Carmen cringed internally. Ouch, that’s gotta hurt. Eh, it’s nothing the runt doesn’t deserve, though. She thought, amusement quickly replacing her shock when she saw him gasping for air like his life depending on it. Stopping and thinking for a second, Carmen decides to give him one last experience with her feet while he was still human. “Say goodbye to the girls, shrimp; they’re gonna be sad without their little boytoy.”

Whatever. The shrunken teacher thinks. Not like this rancid bitch would ever let me go anyway. Maybe if I’m lucky, she’ll kill me accidentally. She definitely seems that stupid, considering she forgot me here. I guess I can just starve myself to in a couple of weeks. That’d be better than staying alive and being her plaything.

Without warning, Carmen shifts the sub around in her grip, and shoves his puny face into the gap he was just in. The moment of clarity and reprieve he had from her filthy digits was cut short as he was unceremoniously reintroduced to the same sultry hell he lived through for three weeks. His head was plunged into the deepest, rankest part of the crevice, right where the base of her pudgy toes ended, and the supple ball of her foot began. What’s worse, he was completely unprepared for this; his mouth was still open, and he was in the middle of a breath, meaning that more than ever before, his olfactory senses were assaulted with the overwhelmingly cheesy stench of this tomboy’s tired feet. His mouth was flooded with her toe sweat and loose gunk, and even though he’d much rather drown and get this awful mess over with than continue to give his filthy captor any sense of joy, his body instinctively gulped the foot-flavored concoction down, the stale, salty taste almost searing his taste buds clean off.

“Awww, they love you so much, shrimpy! You should give ‘em a nice cleaning out.” Carmen pulls him out from between her big and second toes, repeating the same flossing motion with each of the other slimy crevices on her right foot. It never got better for the poor teacher; he had to experience his living nightmare three more agonizing times, without the benefit of the original space he was in. At least last time his body prevented more grime from sticking to the walls of his prison. Now, he was to smell, feel, and taste the results of several weeks of sweat, filth, and sock lint building up with nothing to stop it from growing.

After what felt like past month all over again, Carmen finally finished with her ring and pinky toes, pulling him out of their clutches. She burst out laughing when she saw that his face was practically buried in toejam. “Jeez, you look like you got pushed into the mud like that wimp Jimmy from fifth grade. Man, that brings back good memories…” Absentmindedly, she rolls him around in her damp palm.

“Wait a minute, runt. You haven’t said goodbye to the other girls yet!” Carmen, not wanting the stupid bug to have any relief from her scents, decided to let him experience another part of her body for a quick second. She lifted the dazed sub up into the air, past her sizable rack, and pressed him against her soaking pit. The horrid, oniony reek, altogether different from what he dealt with at her feet, cleared out his pores and renewed the teen titan’s on his nostrils. He hacked, his body recoiling at the invading miasma, but his mouth quickly filled with her pit sweat. Involuntarily, he chugged down gallons of the stuff, the salty secretions of her underarm joining with that of her foot, forming an unholy tincture in his stomach.

If that wasn’t enough, when she put down her arm and trapped him in her pit, his pinpoint-sized prick was swallowed up and squeezed in the folds of soft, stinky skin. The walls of his prison shifted, the folds deepening and pushing his crotch further into the flesh. In a mix of insane pleasure and unimaginable shame and revulsion, the sub became erect. He was being molested without Carmen even noticing, judging by her lack of reaction. She just continued to peel off the other sock she had on, as if she didn’t just put him into a whole new sweaty purgatory. It was then that the sub realized that even if he were to grow back to normal and beat the hell out of her and her for all eternity, he would never be able to forget the she put him and his manhood through. His conscious broke down, and he cried into the sweaty domain that was Carmen’s armpit, still being gently violated while she finally pried the sweat rag of a sock off her left foot and tossed it to where the other one was left on the floor.

Without a word, she grabbed him out of her pit and parted her toes for his head’s inevitable arrival. Once more, the sub was to experience her pungent essence, his beaten body dragged along the moist landscape of her toe cleavage. His mind was shutting down, too traumatized by the sensory overload Carmen’s all-encompassing musk gave him to continue on for much longer. By the time he almost became a vegetable, his owner had finished her little flossing session with him and pulled his grime-coated form out of her toes one final time.

For a while, she just stared at the man’s body. It was almost unrecognizable. He looked more like a large clump of toe gunk than anything else. “You really are what you eat, huh, shrimp?” She snarks to herself. He didn’t respond, too shell-shocked to speak after what happened just now. Figuring that she’s had enough fun before the ‘special punishment’ began, Carmen spoke up:

“Okay, bug. Are you ready for my sock drawer? Don’t worry; you’ll keep all your senses, so you can spend way more time with these beauties.” She flexed her toes, admiring both the thorough scrubbing her human toe cleaner gave them and the salty fruits of her labor. Meanwhile, the sub—though hardly cognizant of anything after the psychological trauma he just acquired—became just aware enough to attempt to process her speech. Wait…senses? What the hell is she talking about?

Carmen places him on the edge of the couch and focuses her thoughts, imagining the pathetic runt before her changing into what she desired most. It happened slowly; his body went numb, but he could feel himself stretching out a bit. Quickly, he blacks out, his mind unable to consciously handle the change from flesh to fabric. When it was all said and done, his body was in the form of a pair of pristine, white, mid-calf socks. Instantly, he awoke again, unsure of what changed. He couldn’t move his arms, or legs, or anything, really. He could taste something leathery, though, and the ever-present smell of Carmen’s feet was stronger than ever. For some reason, he could feel what he assumed was the couch throughout his entire right side of his body, and he only saw darkness, with the occasional movement of his…surroundings? What did she do to him?!

“Okay, shrimp, say hello your new lifelong residents!”

Before he could even begin to question what she meant by that, he felt himself being picked up; more accurately, it was like one half of him was being picked up. His form felt elastic, and he could tell that Carmen was stretching him on purpose. In an instant, he could feel something being shoved into half of him that was picked up. He had two separate halves, and was stretched out…Having an epiphany at what he’d become, the sub could only scream as he gained a whole new perspective of his tormentor’s feet. His tongue, unique to each sock, stretched out over every square inch of her skin. If he wasn’t driven insane by the fact that he could taste and feel every individual part of Carmen’s foot—from the hard, calloused heel, to the soft, wrinkly instep, to the powerful, meaty ball, all the way to the sweaty, writhing digits that tormented him for so long—his enhanced sense of smell would do him in for sure. Being much more up close and personal than he was before, even when jammed in between her toes, he experienced a whole new world of foot stench. He was made to huff every place on her foot at once. It fit so perfectly into his insides that he could even sense the undersides of her dirty toenails. It was like his new body was made for her foot.

“HA! You’re not far off the mark there, runt; you were made for it. But you forgot a little something…” The sub’s suffering increases twofold as Carmen yanks the other sock on; his mouth and nose revisit their grounds again. “Y’know what? I think I need to crank it up a notch. Really make you think about what you did.”

Immediately, his senses were heightened to the breaking point. It was almost as if he had innumerable microscopic mouths and noses all over his sock body, licking and sucking and sniffing these awful, slimy beasts that now inhabited him. If his being wasn’t reshaped by her will, he’d probably be braindead by now; there’s no way he’d be able to stay conscious against this pungent onslaught, much less sane when realizing his situation. Against all reason, however, he was still awake and all too cognizant of what was happening. He was doomed to have every waking moment for the rest of his life dedicated to the soles of his worst enemy—no, his goddess.

Carmen stamped her feet against the floor for good measure. Then, she smiled widely, getting a rush from her complete and utter domination of the substitute teacher who dared to defy her.

Yep. She thought to herself, I’ll be using these lucky socks WAY more than last month's pair.

“Huh.” Speaking of which, what should she do with them? “I’m definitely not gonna use ‘em anymore; I need to break in these ones.”