Title: Sombra's Mercy 2
Subtitle: Bridgette's Insole
Category: Overwatch
Characters: Fareeha Amari (Pharah), Brigitte Lindholm(Brigitte)
Cameo(s): Olivia Colomar (Sombra), Lena Oxton (Tracer)
Comm By: Anonymous
Tags: Clothing Transformation, F/f, Latina, Mexican Girl, Inanimate Transformation, Swiss Girl, Femdom, Dumbification, Canadian-Egyptian Girl, Clothing Transformation, Sweat, Unaware Giantess, Mind Alteration, Sweat, Toejam, Sweaty Feet, Boots
Alternate Titles: Pharah's New Life, Bridgitte's Boot
Beta: SimplylovinIt
Started: 05/08/2024
Finished: 03/09/2024
Public: 03/10/2024
Chapter 1
Two New Victims
Beep Beep
Sombra paused midstride in the bathroom doorway as she heard the familiar alert. Still naked and sweaty from her recent escapades, the cunning Latina strode to where her phone lay, charging on the bedside table. The poor, transformed, trashed pair of panties in the ensuite bin was forgotten. Sombra picked up the small device and unlocked it, her lips lifting into a sly smirk as she read the awaiting message.
Trap Delta Triggered
2 Captives Stored
So she'd caught two fish in her net this time. Sombra tapped the notification and was taken to the same app that had trapped Angela. She navigated to the recent downloads, a tiny red bubble containing the number 2 hovering just above the button.
Name: Fareeha Amari
Codename: Pharah
Age: 41
Breast: C-Cup
Height: 5'5
IQ: 125
Role: Damage
Health: 80/225
Stamina: 5/200
Status: Inactive
Name: Brigitte Lindholm
Codename: Brigitte
Age: 34
Breast: D-Cup
Height: 5'7
IQ: 128
Role: Support
Health: 115/200
Stamina: 34/200
Status: Inactive
Next to the listed stats hovered a digital image of the security chief and mechanic, blissfully ignorant of the fate awaiting them. Farah's brown skin had darkened considerably with the pixelation, the squared edges of her hair mingling with the pixels of her head. She was wearing a bright blue, bulky combat suit. Brigitte's features were less damaged by the blocky imagery, her light skin contrasting clearly with her blocky brown hair, along with the silver and yellow combat armour.
Sombra's pink lips glistened in the room's artificial light. If she weren't still spent from her play with the shoddy underwear, she would take great pleasure in fucking with the duo, but unfortunately, she didn't have the energy to deal with them both herself, and it seemed like such a shame to just delete them. It would be such a waste.
But still, there were ways she could enjoy herself. She would just have one dominate the other for her. But which one?
Brigitte or Pharah? Who should be the victim, and who should be the perpetrator?
Sombra sniffed to herself in amusement and picked up a coin from the small table beside her bed.
"Let's see, heads Brigitte gets to suffer, tails and Pharah will."
Without another word, Sombra tossed the coin into the air, watching it flip several times on the way up and down before catching it in her open palm before slapping the coin atop the back of her off hand.
Tails.
Sombra tapped Pharah's floating image and was taken to the next page, her smirk growing as the familiar power washed through her body, making her toes curl in anticipation. She could do whatever she wanted to her prisoner. Anything at all.
Sombra tapped the stat indicating Pharah's intelligence, and just like with Angela, a bar appeared, and the power-drunk Latina tapped the notch indicating Phara's current IQ and began to drag it down.
Saliva pooled in Sombra's mouth as the number displayed on the right side of the bar began to fall rapidly.
125
123
108
95
Sombra slowed her finger, teasingly raising the perra's IQ before continuing its descent.
98
94
91
88
81
77
73
65
50
"Oops, went a bit quickly there," Sombra shrugged, tapping away from Pharah's intelligence, leaving her to be dumber than the panties in the toilet trashcan, with a mere IQ of 48.
Sombra sat atop her bed, the dishevelled sheets cool against her naked flesh, the bunches forming a pale cushion for her. Carnal heat washed through her body as she selected the transformation option in the app - after taking the precaution of deleting the former security chief's armour, ensuring that the little bitch would experience everything and there was no buffer, no protection for Pharah.
The familiar options appeared in the drop-down menu.
Conversion
Animal
Beverage
Clothing
Food
Inanimate Object
Monster Girl/Boy
Plant
Sombra tapped the Inanimate Object option while the clothing option had been fun and had several more opportunities left to claim, so she couldn't resist checking out the Inanimate Object options.
A neverending list of options appeared much like it had when she selected the Clothing option for the perra in the trash. Varying from normal items like bins, rags, chairs, insoles, makeup, tables, utensils, and weapons, to more intimate items, like butt plugs, ballgags, dildos, strapons, and whips, all alphabetized, and each made Sombra's mouth water more than the last.
"So many options, so little time," Sombra sighed, audibly sucking on her teeth as she weighed numerous fates available open to the helpless security chief.
The power was intoxicating. With each passing second, it became harder to keep her tanned thighs together.
Sombra tapped the insole option. She would save the more interesting selections for when she would be the one playing with the toys rather than only watching. Immediately, the digital depiction of Pharah was squashed and shaped into a dark grey insole.
"Hmm, actually…" Sombra mused. Rapidly tapping the screen, she separated everything except her face and mind from the new form and dismissed them to the recycle bin, ensuring the minimum of protection for the security chief from her ally's foot.
The digital insole now bore the faint impression of Pharah's face, her mouth open in a mixture of shock and ecstasy.
Sombra ran her tongue over her lips sensually. It was time to start customising the insole. This program was a wonderful tool. Her powerful, tanned finger tapped across the screen, altering the insole from a normal slab of hardened fabric into a plush material filled with nanobots, with the sole purpose of enhancing the owner's comfort and ensuring pristine hygiene.
The Latina's grin widened, becoming predatory. With just the tap of her fingers, she had condemned her foe to a lifetime of enduring her ally's giant sweaty feet - and she'd made sure that the insole would still be able to smell and taste every inch of Brigitte's foot. The power was truly intoxicating; this app had truly made her a Goddess.
With another tap, the insole was customised further. It would always adapt to its owner's needs, and even should Brigitte lose a toe, the insole would be reshaped for her foot.
Tap
Tap
Pharah would absorb every drop of sweat and every ounce of dirt and grime, digest it, and use it to enhance the softness of its cushion. The longer Brigitte used her former colleague, the comfier her boots would get.
Tap
Tap
Tap
Pharah was rapidly becoming the perfect insole. Still, Sombra wanted to do more to ensure her life would be a living hell. It didn't take long for a twisted idea to snake its way into the Latina's mind, and with a swipe of her finger, Sombra opened her mind again.
Sombra swallowed the saliva pooling in her mouth.
Name: Fareeha Amari
She tapped on the insole's name, a blinking line appearing at the end of it.
Tap
Tap
Tap
With each casual touch, another letter vanished from the name.
Tap
Tap
Tap
Sombra squirmed where she sat. Her victim wouldn't even be able to remember her name after this. The final letters vanished. But she didn't stop there, she began to type out a new identity for the former chief of security. It would know it wasn't its true name, but it wouldn't be able to stop thinking of itself in those terms.
Name: Foot Slut
Molten juices mixed with the cooling fluid staining Sombra's thighs.
Before she finalised the alterations, Sombra added one last thing: she enhanced Pharah's mind composition to the highest degree she could without raising her intelligence. It wouldn't do if she went brain-dead after only a month of Brigitte's feet, after all. Where would the fun in that be?
She saved the changes she'd made and swiped the screen. The digital insole shrunk into a set of tiny grey pixels in the corner of the screen, and Brigitte returned to the main page.
The first thing Sombra did was alter Brigitte's mind, removing all memory of Pharah's existence and replacing them with the knowledge that she had decided to splurge on a pair of expensive, durable, top-of-the-range boots with her first paycheck. Next, she reduced Brigitte's awareness of her own cleanliness, especially when it came to her feet.
Once that was done, she moved on to the physical changes. With a swipe of her finger, she unequipped the boots, leaving a pair of pixelated bright, thick yellow socks.
Item Type: Boots
Rarity: Rare
Durability: High
Additional Features:
Terrain Resistance: These boots, through the use of nanobots, will adapt to any terrain after the first step.
Stamina Regeneration: Stamina will recover 10% faster while wearing these boots.
Sombra altered their durability to indestructible and added a caveat to the stamina regeneration that would cause sweat secretion to increase the amount of stamina regenerated between uses. It also added a few simulated decades of wear to them. She swiped her finger and merged the insole with the boots. It was irritating that she could only place it in one of the boots, and while she could just clone it, Sombra had something much tastier in mind.
A dozen taps and clicks later, the insole would automatically swap between the boots once one foot was cleaned.
"Now. back to the other one," Sombra said, swiping back to Brigitte.
The Latina enlarged the size of her feet from size 8's to a domineering size 16, increased her sweat production, and programmed an extra caveat that would make Brigitte's feet sweat double the rate of the rest of her body.
Sombra re-equipped the boots, they immediately resized for the mechanic's giant feet. She licked her lips again, suddenly dry and her breathing became more laboured as Sombra savoured the moment before she condemned the security chief to her own personal hell.
Her hand fell between her thighs, and her soft fingers stroked her intimate lips.
Brigitte wouldn't even know what she was doing. Every time she put on her boots, every step she took, every time she so much as tapped her foot, she would make Pharah suffer.
Sombra tapped the Generate button at the bottom of the screen with a touch more force than necessary. A prompt appeared asking if she was sure, but the Latina didn't even bother to read it past the first three words before she tapped Yes.
The screen dimmed and was followed by the familiar purple flash of light.
Brigitte materialised in the teleporter, none the wiser of what had just transpired.
Chapter 2
A Day in Her Shoe
The former security chief's consciousness blinked into existence, her mind whirling with the dizziness associated with the teleported platform. The darkness was new; everything was black. Something hot and heavy pressed into Foot Slut, seemingly centralised on her face, trying to force the air out of her lungs. Instinctively, she tried to turn away but quickly discovered she couldn't, paralysed beneath the crushing weight.
Foot Slut tried to blink the darkness away - and the constant whirling, disorientation that had captivated her mind. This wasn't right.
'What's going on?' Foot Slut wondered, forcing recent memories to the forefront of her mind. She and Bridgitte had just completed an assignment and were ordered to return to base. They had stepped onto the teleported platform, and Bridgitte programmed the destination. There was the usual flash of light followed by the disorientation of being deconstructed and reconstructed.
Everything had been normal until that point. Now, though, she couldn't move or see anything. Large, moist, fleshy blobs dragged across her eyes, coating them in warm, moist trails. She didn't feel the need to blink - not that she could - part of the strange experience even felt normal and warred with her mind.
'What the Hell?' Foot Slut tried to yell, but her mouth was frozen, and then it wasn't, her tongue began to move on its own, and a bitter, salty flavour filled her mouth. She felt the need to shift her expression to one of disgust as the flavour filled her mouth, but her expression remained impassive. The only movement allowed to her … no, forced onto her was her tongue moving through her face and lick whatever was crushing her.
'Oh God,' Foot Slut's mind screamed, though no sound escaped her frozen lips.
The crushing weight abruptly vanished, and gravity shifted. Her head felt hollow like the bottom had dropped out, as the oppressive weight lifted, forming a vacuum where the pressure had been. Intense, moist heat rushed to fill the void, bringing with it the strong scent of corn chips. It felt like she'd just taken her first breath in a sauna mixed with a changing room.
Her mouth felt eerily empty, the salty, bitter flavour lingering as a taunt. Then, gravity returned, and she began to plummet back to the ground. It felt like she was falling through the air, like an aircraft was going in for a crash landing.
Her thoughts spun like a wild tornado as she tried to process just what was happening to her. It was so hard to think, even without the falling sensations violently tickling her brain.
CRASH
The immense weight from before crashed into Foot Slut's face. She tried to gasp as the pressure rapidly increased, but all that happened was her tongue began to move again, lapping at the bitterly salty surface. She could actually feel her tongue absorbing the greasy liquid like a sponge does water.
She couldn't even turn away.
The weight vanished, and again Foot Slut felt like she was flying through the air.
Faint light trickled through a distant opening as whatever kept squashing Foot Slut shifted, and her frozen eyes tried to bulge as she made out the silhouetted outline of five giant toes.
She was inside a giant shoe!
Then she was falling again, and Foot Slut just managed to make out the flecks of lint that stuck out atop the toes before she was banished back into the darkness of the giant shoe.
STOMP
Foot Slut tried to cry out through frozen lips as the shoe dropped back to the ground, and the weight of the wearer's colossal bare foot slammed back atop her, her tongue immediately moving to lick the sweat and dirt from the meaty sole. Abruptly, she was aware of her eyes being squashed by the giant toes, sinking deeper into her face, forming imprints of the giant sweaty toes, reshaping her body.
Wait. Her body? Slowly, gears turned in her head. Reshaping. In a shoe. Stepped on. She was a part of the shoe, a … an … an insole!
She'd been transformed into an insole!
Maybe, that was why it was so hard to think.
She'd never felt so helpless in her life.
The former security operative couldn't even cry as her tongue continued to lick her owner's sweaty foot.
'O-Owner?' even her mind was being warped; she felt like she was going to throw up, but she just couldn't.
STOMP
Foot Slut's mind shook, erasing her thoughts like an etchi sketch.
Muffled words boomed beyond the tight confines of her leather prison. She couldn't even begin to pursue their meaning, but the voice did sound familiar, though much deeper than she remembered it.
'Who is that?' she wondered, every word a strained effort to form.
With every step the giant woman took, Foot Slut's thoughts were erased, and the heat rapidly built. The air grew thicker with moisture, and the smell of corn chips grew stronger no matter how many times her tongue curled and tickled the tough wrinkles.
Chapter 3
The Nexus Nook
Bridgitte Lindholm trudged wearily through the wooden doors, sighing as she accepted the warm embrace of her local pub, unaware of the torment she inflicted on her former friend and colleague with every heavy step she took.
Her day had been gruelling, filled with the clang of metal on metal and the hum of her arc welder as she tirelessly worked to maintain the city's defences. Her armour, once gleaming, now bore the smears and scrapes of a hard-fought battle against the relentless Omnic invasion. The faint scent of burnt metal clung to her, a badge of honour she wore proudly, a poignant reminder of the battles she had waged to safeguard her city.
Sweat trickled down her forehead, stinging her eyes and matting her hair to her neck as she pushed through the door. Her muscles, accustomed to the rhythmic dance of combat and craftsmanship, now protested with a dull ache that resonated through her very bones.
The Nexus Nook was a cosy little spot where heroes and patrons from all realms converged to share stories of their interdimensional escapades. It was Bridgitte's favourite place to unwind, especially after a long day like the one she'd had.
The mechanic quickly found her usual booth, savouring the moment her butt touched the cushion, taking the weight off her feet. She ordered her usual rum and coke when the waitress walked by.
Her first sip of fizzy amber liquid was like a warm embrace, the sweetness cutting through the dust of the day, bringing a gentle buzz to her senses. The cool liquid slipped down her throat, soothing her dryness and igniting a warm glow in her stomach.
She leaned back in the booth, popping her heel out of its boot, sighing as the cool air enveloped her moist, bare heel as she began to dangle and bounce the heavily worn boot. Every time it touched her foot, she felt a pleasant tingling, almost like the insole was kissing her sole as the nanofibres worked to break down the grime and sweat coating her foot. She should really look into underwear with the same nanofibre structure when she gets her next bonus. The titillating thought made her toes curl, rewarding her with more kissing sensations as they stroked the arch of the insole.
Bridgitte drained the rest of her drink and ordered a second, then a third. Time flowed like the amber liquid trickling down her throat. The pleasant ambience of the pub became more exciting, but to Bridgitte, everything beyond her booth was a blur by her fourth rum and coke—she had never been one to be able to hold her alcohol. Her cheeks turned a rosy shade of pink, and her once-precise movements grew sloppy, and her words slurred together in a charming tapestry.
"Hey Bridgitte, having fun?"
The mechanic swayed in her seat as she looked up, her eyes dilating as she was met with the sight of her friend Tracer.
"T-Tracer," Bridgitte slurred, her eyes trying to focus on the British girl.
Tracer's eyes were a piercing blue that sparkled with excitement. Her short brown hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, and she wore a tight t-shirt that emphasised her toned arms and the gentle swell of her breasts. Her smile was infectious, a perfect blend of shyness and mischief.
"I-I'm having a... a g-great time," Bridgitte managed, her tongue feeling thick in her mouth. "How about you?"
Tracer slid into the booth opposite her, her eyes flicking down to the boot that Bridgitte was still dangling as she stepped around Bridgitte's outstretched foot.
"Looks like you've had a... an interesting day," she giggled, her cheeks flushing a faint shade of red.
Chapter 4
Toejam & Sweaty Toes
Foot Slut's eyes tried to widen as she processed what she had just heard.
'Bridgette', her previous ally, now wearer's face filled Foot Slut's mind. The giant toes flexed, grinding their moisture into her frozen eyes - her fibres crawled as she felt her body drinking in the sweat that coated the mechanic's meaty toes.
Instinctively, she tried to call out for her friend, but as before her lips would do nothing other than kiss and lick the colossal greasy sole.
Bridigitte's foot shifted, and again Foot Slut found herself sealed in the humid darkness of the aged boot. The wet squelch that filled the boot made the insole wish she could gip, already processed sweat oozing out of her fibres and splashing over the foot. The hot, moist foot flesh dragged over her face as it snuggled into place, the smell of corn chips permutating the air. She could feel her face absorbing the sweat, drinking the horrid substance in through her fibrous pores.
The sounds of the world beyond the boot grew muffled, and Foot Slut found it impossible to pursue the words been said. The only marker of time was the brief space between the licks and kisses. She couldn't even sleep to pass the time.
Lick
Lick
Lick
She couldn't even remember what it was like for her mouth to not taste feet.
Lick
Lick
Lick
Her tongue scooped up shovelfuls of greasy, grimy gunk. The lukewarm goop made its way to the back of her throat and slid down her gullet on its own accord. Foot Slut wanted to gag and throw up the gunky stuff, but just as with the foot sweat, she felt the toejam fizz and break down inside her fibres, merging with her, fuelling her. All the while, her tongue scooped up another football-sized clump of toejam.
Lick
Lick
Lick
Lick
The heat seemed to grow with every lick. Another mouthful of sweaty toejam, and the hotter it got.
Then, the bouncing started.
Bridgitte's oversized, meaty toes squashed her eyes, gradually forming them into toeprints. They forcibly customised her body, prioritising the comfort of the oversized foot. The weight of the giant heel vanished, and the world began to shake violently up and down.
Foot Slut's stomach dropped. She couldn't even focus her gaze on the intricate, swirling pattern of Bridgitte's toeprints - even though they were literally pressed up against her eyeballs!
Bridgitte was giving her her very own personal localised earthquake. A new form of nausea rippled through her body, mingling with the dizzying dysphoria. It somehow became even harder to think, her thoughts being erased as though she were an etch a sketch. It seemed she was becoming more and more like a normal insole with every second. Occasionally Foot Slut felt her chin smash into the tough flesh of the giantess mechanic's heel, her fibres tingled with a bruising sensation, all the while continuing to kiss and lick the leathery skin.
Time had never passed so slowly.
Lick
Slap
Lick
Slap
Stomp
Slap
Lick
Lick
Foot Slut wanted it to stop. She wanted to throw up. She wanted the shaking to stop. For the stench to go away. For a fucking breeze to banish the rapidly building heat. Even when Bridgitte's heel briefly popped free in the violent bouncing and the heat rushed out, it soon pushed its way back in, and it got even hotter than before.
The only upside was the fact that the transformed security chief had almost licked the giant foot clean. The sweat was becoming thinner, the gunky toejam was gone, even the salt had almost faded into memory.
Lick
Slap
Lick
Stomp
Lick
Soon it would be clean and Foot Slut was relieved. The transformed woman even started to try to make her tongue move faster rather than stop it, but it would only move at its usual languid pace, slowly licking the giantess clean - and making sure to explore every ridge and crevice as the giant foot's owner probably enjoyed her hundredth rum and coke.
Abruptly a sharp pain shot through the insole's body as the latest thump of the giant heel and shift of Bridgitte's toes tore open a small hole, barely an inch shy of the toeprint that had once been the insole's left eye.
Lick
Lick
Thump
Smack
Lick
Its tongue didn't even slow.
It was so hard to think.
The pain faded almost as soon as it tore into existence as the nanofibres stitched the insole back together, the only evidence of the tear remaining a slightly odd shape to Bridgitte's left middle toeprint.
Finally, her tongue dragged across clean foot flesh but the insole didn't even process it. Its mind was receding into the basic, coded instruction of lick and kiss.
Then everything changed.
The dry, intense heat and bearable foot stench were devoured by a heat that made the moist fibres fizz as the ingrained sweat boiled away, and the unpleasant scent became a rancid stench of sour vinegar-saturated corn chips. At least the world had stopped shaking.
As before the insole's tongue got to work, collecting pints of foot sweat and pouring it down its throat, merging the rancid liquid with the transformed being's body, fuelling it to continue its degrading work. She was forced to slurp up every revolting drop.
It had been teleported into the other fucking boot, yet uncleaned by the insole's lowly tongue.
Then it began to lick up the toejam again. The gross gunk had even begun to crisp and harden, making the insole work to break it down before consuming it, prolonging the horrid flavour. But that was nothing compared to the heat. If it weren't so dark, the insole was sure it would see steam billowing off the giant foot.
She was being boiled alive in her owner's foot sweat!
STOMP
Its toepads tried to bulge as the immense weight of the owner returned. Bridgitte was standing - or more staggering to her feet, crushing the life out of her insole.
Its fibres shivered in disgust, sweat pooling out from the insole's pores, all for her to begin reabsorbing it.
STOMP
SQUELCH
Lick
Lick
STOMP
SQUELCH
With every step Bridgitte took, more sweat was pressed out of the insole, condemning the former security chief to reabsorb and taste the sweaty puddle.
Chapter 5
Epilogue
Foot Slut's New Life
Licks and swallows passed. The insole had long lost track of time. Aside from the cleaning licks and loving kisses, the only indication of time was the uneven, clumsy - and overly heavy - steps of her wearer as they stumbled in an unknown direction.
Eventually, the distant creaking that filled the insole's mind with the vague image of a door sounded beyond boot, though heavily muffled by the thick leather. The giants spoke, but their words were alien to the near inanimate object.
Muffled whines of springs whispered secrets, and abruptly, the pressure vanished. The insole sighed in relief even as her tongue continued to lick the giant meaty - now near clean - sole. There was a muffled thud beyond the boot soon followed by a sigh and the insole was dimly aware of something being moved further away, perhaps the other shoe?
Bridgitte's heel lifted off the insole's chin and, with an audible pop, was set free. Cool air rushed in to fill the leather prison and let out the foul smell of the giant woman's foot.
The light felt so good on her fibres.
"Wow, were your feet always so big?" Tracer asked in a voice of bewilderment and excitement.
Drunken giggles boomed high above.
"My foot can cover your whole face," Bridgitte slurred.
"Mmm, it can, and it smells so clean," Tracer moaned.
The heavily beam was eclipse and the insole could saw a giant nose enter the opening, soft lips lowering towards its chin only to freeze, the flawless skin wrinkling before rapidly retreating. Memories swirled within Foot Slut as her stomach dropped.
Thud
Her stinky prison struck the ground, but it was nothing compared to Bridgitte's footfalls.
Foot Slut's consciousness grew stronger, returning to what it had been, refusing to grant her the mercy of oblivion.
"How can your boots stink so bad when your feet smell so clean?" Tracer laughed.
"They're good boots," Bridgitte slurred.
Bedsprings moaned above, followed by the distant sound of shifting fabric.
'Oh no…' Foot Slut mentally moaned.
More metallic moans followed, mixed with drunken giggles.
She couldn't plug her ears. She couldn't close her eyes. She couldn't leave the room. Foot Slut could do nothing but listen - and smell her new owner's foot stench - as Bridgitte and Tracer got louder and louder as they explored one another's bodies.
Her consciousness didn't fade. If anything, it became more pronounced with every moment that passed. For what felt like days, Foot Slut listened to the intimate dance of her new owner before they finally fell quiet.
The quiet was worse, and the only sound was very faint snores. There wasn't even any light. Just darkness and corn chip musk. It made the insole want to cry.
Part of the insole even missed Bridgitte's sweat and feeling her body absorb it while the sane part of her dreaded it. But anything would be better than the waiting. Throughout the night, she just existed, waiting for the inevitable moment when the mechanic would step on her again.
After an eternity, light trickled into the room, and Foot Slut wanted to weep for joy as the morning light chastely kissed her chin.
Thud
Her fibres wanted to flinch as she felt Bridgitte walk about the room, the heavy falls of her colossal feet causing the floor to vibrate beneath her prison.
It didn't take long for Bridgitte to go about her morning routine, and soon, carpet-lint-speckled toes were wiggling their way into the opening, banishing the morning light of hope. The tough skin was clammy and saturated with the scent of dried sweat lingering fun from the night before. She giantess hadn't even showered. Foot Slut wanted to cry. This would be her life now.
The giant foot slid over her, the bulbous toes grinding her face as they pulled themselves forward. The insole's tongue got to work, lapping up the dried sweat. The carpet lint tasted weird.
The intense weight of her owner crushed the helpless insole as if trying to squeeze the long-digested foot sweat out of its body again.
Why did her awareness have to come back? Why couldn't she just have stayed a near-brainless insole?
Foot Slut wanted … no, she needed to cry.
Worse was to come, though, today; Bridgitte would wear her to work.