Soon, but not just yet.

Over the last few days, Quinn had split sunlit hours between working and lazing about in her typical routine. But by night, her sentient feet made love to her unconscious body, gradually conditioning her to develop a foot fetish. Unbeknownst to Quinn, her body now sought the feeling of feet inside her, lusted for the taste of her own toes, and craved the smell of her soiled socks. Soon, her feet’s machinations would come to fruition as they’d reveal themselves to their clueless owner. However, whilst Quinn still remained ignorant, her feet had their fair share of fun as well as some close calls.

One particularly groggy afternoon, Quinn was barely managing to drag herself out of bed. She quickly squeezed her legs and groaned, confirming the dampness between them. This was something that had become a mainstay of her morning routine as of late. Quinn took it as a side effect of being engrossed in her work but waking up in soiled panties every day was admittedly become an annoyance. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she sluggishly stripped herself of last night’s clothing and headed for the bath.

Her feet were quite fond of their own smell. They, being feet of course, found it very comforting; not to mention they preferred to stay rather aromatic in order to mess with their owner. However, they’ve recently begun looking forward to showering. Firstly, Quinn didn’t wash her feet very well. She hated touching them, even in the water, so she usually squirted soap on the floor of the shower and just rubbed her feet together in it while looking away. All they pair had to do was kick some water towards the soap puddle and it would dissipate down the drain. Then, they merely enjoyed the feeling of Quinn rubbing their bodies against each other. Left foot would often sneak in a lick or two, causing right foot giggle and blush. Luckily, nothing could be heard over the water.

They especially enjoyed it when Quinn washed her face. With the soap in her eyes, Quinn was completely conscious, but her feet were at no risk of being seen. Right foot sometimes took the opportunity to bring itself up and help her hands in lathering Quinn’s body. It would inevitably get some soap on itself, but it wasn’t anything comparable to a real scrub. The blinded writer would, as a result, sometimes feel a phantom hand on her face or breasts. She’d find herself inexplicable excited but blamed everything on residual grogginess from sleep.

One time, she did let out a yelp when she felt her nipples getting pinched whilst her hands were clearly around her face. Despite rushing to rinse off the soap and look around her shower, was left with nothing but the sight of steam, a flushed face, and the residual feeling of arousal.

“How many times have I told you? Follow. The. Hands. You’ve got to be subtle.” Her right foot scolded under the sounds of the shower head.

“Sorry, sorry. Just got carried away.” Her left foot apologized but maintained a slight grin, which was immediately noticed.

“What am I going to do with you?”

“You’re… gonna forgive me, because I’m cute?” Her left foot wiggled its toes playfully.

An exasperated sigh was the response, but Quinn’s right foot couldn’t help hide a smirk. Her left foot, thinking it was in trouble, strained to look at the other’s expression. As soon as it noticed the grin however, it knew all was forgiven and playfully pushed itself against its sister, causing both of them to chuckle.

Unfortunately, the sudden shift in posture caused Quinn to lose balance. A loud thud rang out from Quinn slamming her arm into the tiled wall for support while looking around confused. Right foot merely shot a disproving look while its counterpart could only muster an apologetic smile.

“Heh. Oops.”

During a separate morning, the winds outside were unusually cool. The normally boiling apartment actually adopted a somewhat pleasant temperature... well, pleasant for some. This particular morning, Quinn was startled awake by the sound of a sneeze. The confused girl looked around her room, but as always, came up empty handed.

Maybe it was someone outside.

Quinn went to check her phone for the time, raising her eyebrows a little when she noticed the weather outside. Meanwhile, her feet shuffled about beneath her sheets.

“Close one.” Her left foot whispered while making a shushing noise and raising its big toe like a finger.

A small sniffle escaped from within her right sock.

“Sorry, I can’t help it. It’s so cold today.”

Her right foot clawed at the bedding with its toes, trying to bundle itself up. It squeaked out a dejected cry when Quinn pushed the sheets away and got up. The writer swung her legs off the side of the bed and began to take off her shirt. While doing so, she noticed a slight shaking in her right leg but didn’t think too much of it. Morning jitters, she figured.

In reality, her right foot was shivering. While her left foot merely stretched its toes out in the cool air, its sister shared no part in this appreciation. It turned its ankles back and forth, frantically scanning the floor around the bed. When it finally spotted Quinn’s slippers, it wasted no time in diving for them, stuffing itself deep within the cozy piece of footwear.

Quinn caught sight of this just as she pulled head out beneath her shirt. She froze for a second. She just stared as her own foot wiggled within a shoe she distinctly didn’t remember putting on. Quinn blinked a couple times before taking another look. She saw no movement.

Was I in the middle of putting on slippers?

Figuring this must have been the case, she reached for the other shoe and went to slide her left foot in. This time she clearly saw her foot scrunch up and reel away. Shocked, Quinn had trouble processing what she just saw. Naturally, she tried again, assuming the first time was some sort of spasm. She moved again to point her foot towards the opening of the slipper. Instead of reeling back this time, her foot turned its toes towards her and made a quick fanning motion. Quinn was suddenly blasted by a certain stench; it was her turn to reel backwards. Still bewildered from what happened, Quinn completely ignored the part of her mind that didn’t mind the smell and started coughing reflexively. While she was turned away, her right foot, still wearing the slipper, kicked her left.

“What are you doing!?” It hissed.

“C’mon, it’s so nice out! I don’t—”

Quinn’s coughing subsided.

“Get in!”

“Ugh…fine.”

When the smell finally dispersed, and Quinn looked back down, her slippers were on her feet and nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Quinn cautiously tried to move her feet up and down. Again, everything seemed normal.

“Umm… hello?”

No response.

I’m really losing it this week. Maybe I need to cut back on the drinking… nah.

After taking a moment to collect her thoughts, Quinn finally stood up. She decided not to shower today and went to toss on a new shirt. Within the confusion, she forgot to change her underwear, but it soon dried as she went about her day.

The television screen flickered in the dim living room. Quinn strode over from the kitchen, having just put on a pot of tea. A comfortable sigh escaped as her body plopped onto the couch.

What a long day.

On screen, Uma Thurman’s character struggled to pull herself into a brightly colored truck. After collapsing into the back seat, the camera cut to clear shot of her feet as she tried to regain movement in her legs.

Ugh. What the hell? Fucking Tarantino movies.

Quinn grimaced and quickly reached for the remote, hoping to skip through the next couple minutes. Without her noticing, her feet had quietly escaped from her slippers and propped themselves on the wooden coffee table before her. Her left foot crossed over her right ankle, propping itself up before wiggling its socked toes. The sweat stains from the day were clearly visible on its soles.

“Let’s see how far she’s come.” Her left foot whispered.

Quinn was starting to get a bit frustrated; she hated misplacing things and losing her T.V. remote would put a huge wrench in her movie plans. Pillows were flipped over, cushions were lifted and replaced, all to no avail. In reality, her remote laid neatly tucked away in her slipper.

While this was all happening, a familiar smell wafted towards her. It was subtle at first, spreading evenly in throughout the large room. Its effects took hold without Quinn noticing. Reflexively, her heart rate began to rise a little and her cheeks felt warmer. When she finally became conscious of the smell, she was already feeling a little hot and bothered.

It’s that smell again… What is that?

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose. She let out a light moan, the aroma bringing its usual pleasure. When her eyes opened again, she saw the outline of her socked feet sitting atop the table, lit up by the screen behind. Her toes swayed in a mesmerizing fashion. Without thinking, her hand drifted to her panties and she started rubbing herself through the fabric. Quinn’s deep breaths continued as her feet danced on their own, spreading, scrunching, and wiggling her toes. All of a sudden, the sharp cry of a kettle snapped Quinn out of her daze. It also startled her feet, who let out a short cry before dashing back to her slippers.

Oh shit, my tea. What was I doing just now?

The brunette shook the fog from her mind and quickly walked over to silence the wailing appliance. While she was occupied with fixing her drink, her feet snickered beneath her. Evidently, Quinn’s conditioning was growing stronger, much to their delight.

The remainder of the night was spent with Quinn lying on the couch. She finally found the remote after her feet tossed it aside earlier to don her slippers. Every so often, during a particularly captivating scene, Quinn’s feet would venture up behind her and gently rub her behind. This in combination with the lingering smell kept Quinn flustered the entire night. The pink never fully left her face.

When the credits finally rolled, Quinn was more than ready to end the night on a high note. A quick click turned off the television, and a little while later she was getting into bed. Moments after slipping under the covers, her phone was out, and a raunchy story was open. She wasted no time in returning her hand to her waiting crotch.

As the story reach its climax, Quinn closed her eyes and focused on working her fingers. However, despite being thoroughly aroused, she was having trouble getting herself over the edge. Something felt missing; it was as if her body craved something in order to climax and her fingers just weren't doing it. She even licked her lips subconsciously but couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Following thirty tiresome and fruitless minutes, Quinn finally gave up. The exhausted and horny writer turned off her lamp and tried to go to sleep.