“Mom?
I’m home!”
Daisy
didn’t hear a response. She slipped out of her flip-flops, padding
along the hardwood floor in bare feet. Weird. Her car’s
here. How about…
“Sam?” Nothing. She grinned.
“Sammy?”
Still nothing. Well, almost
nothing. Faintly, very faintly, she heard mechanical whirring,
rhythmic thumping and short, controlled panting.
Her mom was on the treadmill again, explaining the lack of response,
but it didn’t sound like her brother was home. He’d definitely
have replied. He hates when I call him Sammy.
Sighing, Daisy headed for the
couch. Before reaching it, she stopped, sniffing. A faint, unpleasant
aroma hung in the air. Her eyes followed her nose and found socks on
the coffee table. Four of them, two pink socks—her
own—and
two grey, visibly dirty ankle socks. She wrinkled her nose at the
sight of her mom’s workout socks.
“Gross,
Mom. Why leave them here? I could have brought friends home! That
would have been so
embarrassing.”
Then, the socks moved. She
thought she was seeing things, dismissing the movement as an illusion
until it happened again. She picked up her socks, and used them to
move her mom’s socks without actually having to touch them.
Underneath, she found the last thing she’d expect to find.
Sam.
Her brother was tiny, perhaps
around a mere inch in height, stuck to the table with two strips of
tape—one across his
legs, the other across his arms and chest. A third strip was placed
over his lips and the table beneath, holding his head in place. After
being uncovered, he set his desperate gaze on her and wriggled to the
best of his abilities.
“Bro, what happened?”
It took a few seconds of silence
before she laughed at her question and carefully peeled away the tape
gagging him. Whatever he immediately started blabbering about, it was
inaudible.
“Hold on, Sam. I can’t hear
you.”
She leaned down, face turned away
from the bundle of smelly socks, and placed her ear directly above
his tiny face.
“Daisy, you gotta help me.”
His words were little more than a squeak, barely audible. “Mom’s
gone crazy! I got home and sh-she used the shrink-ray on me. You
know, the one she used back when we were moving house. She taped me
to the coffee table and started putting your socks on me, calling me
a pervert and disgusting. Then she kicked off her trainers, stripped
off her sweaty socks, and started using them on me. It was
horrible!”
“Using them? Like, forcing you
to sniff them?”
He nodded, avoiding meeting her
eye.
“Why?” Daisy asked, unable to
keep the smile from her lips.
“She…” He looked away and
blushed.
“Go on. Tell me!”
“Okay. Okay. She thinks I was
sniffing your socks.”
Daisy followed her brother’s
nod over at her socks and a bemused expression crossed her face.
“What? Why?”
“I don’t know!” He blushed
deeper. “Sh-she found them, apparently. Found them… under my
pillow. I swear I didn’t steal your socks, Daisy! That’s
disgusting. You know I hate feet. They stink. Please, help me.
Please, tell Mom th—”
Remembering last night, when she
tugged off her worn socks and left them under Sam’s pillow, Daisy
burst into laughter. They were supposed to stink him out whilst he
was sleeping. Their mom wasn’t supposed to find them.
“D-Daisy?” he said. “What’s
wrong?”
“Nothing, dear brother. How’s
mom planning to punish you for stealing my sweaty socks?”
“I d-didn’t steal them!”
“Alright. Fine. Let’s say
she’s wrong and you didn’t steal them.” She suppressed the urge
to smirk. “How’s she planning on punishing you?”
His struggles against the tape
resumed with new energy.
“She’s going to make me smell
her feet! Mom’s on the treadmill now, running, and she didn’t put
on socks. Daisy, Mom’s gone without socks in those old gym shoes of
hers, the ones that are all tattered and clear rooms with their
stink. Daisy, I’ll do anything if you let me out and protect me
from her. Her feet are going to reek and I don’t know if I
can take it!”
Daisy proceeded to blow a
raspberry over Sam’s tiny body, spraying him with spittle.
“I’ll be honest with you,
Sammy. I put those socks under your pillow. It was a prank, to
make you go to sleep wondering why you could smell my dirty socks.
But, it looks like the prank turned out better than I could have
hoped.”
“What? How could you?”
“Because it’s funny!” She
laughed in his tiny face.
“Okay, okay. Great prank. Very
funny. But it’s gone too far. You know I hate feet. This is going
to be torture!”
Daisy pursed her lips and studied
her desperate brother. He’s right, this is probably too mean,
even for me. But he does also deserve for being such a brat. Always
playing pranks on me, now crying after I finally get my own back.
It’s my job as a big sister to show him that if he’s gonna give
it, he’s gotta know how to take it.
“I’ll let you out, Sammy.”
The misled relief in his expression made her want to howl with
laughter. “On one condition.”
“Yes! Anything!”
Chuckling, Daisy lifted a leg and
planted her bare foot beside him on the table, resting on its
outstep. Dirty and slightly sweaty, it loomed over him, lightly
wrinkling with a semi-scrunch. Her soft toes curled in his face, the
pads nearly brushing against his skin. She had a back off a bit,
after catching a whiff of her own foot. It was smellier than
anticipated. He cringed at their proximity, turning away.
“Kiss my pretty toes. Sorry if
they’re dirty. Wearing flip-flops tends to do that.”
“I-is there… anything else?”
he asked, quieter than before now that she’d backed off.
“Nope. This is the only way
you’re getting out of this mess. Kissy kissy!”
He glanced over to the door,
where the sounds of their mother’s thumping footsteps on the
treadmill were coming from. His expression was defeated upon turning
back, nodding reluctantly.
“Okay. I’ll—”
“No need to talk. Just kiss!”
With a pre-emptive disgust
painted across his features, Sam started kissing her giant toes. She
giggled at the sensation. It was tickly, but nice. Seeing her
annoying younger brother perform such a humiliating act at her feet
was as empowering for her as it must be degrading for him.
They were both so caught up in
the display—each for
different reasons—that
neither of them noticed that the faint whirring from the gym
room had ceased. The panting was replaced by deep breaths.
Those fast, thumping steps were now slow and getting louder on
her approach.
Their mom was finished with her
workout.
Daisy froze, grinned, then pulled
her foot away. Before Sam could so much as squeak the tiny strip of
tape was back over his mouth, pinning his miniscule head to the
coffee table. Their mom entered the room a second later, appearing
exhausted. Her forehead was moist with perspiration.
“Daisy! I didn’t hear you get
back,” she said, not even glancing at Sam.
“I haven’t been back long.
Looks like you had one hell of a workout.”
“Oh, yes. I was… motivated.”
Daisy couldn’t help but
chuckle. “Yeah, I noticed. Hope you don’t mind, but I took his
gag off to get an explanation.” She grinned devilishly. “What a
little foot freak!”
Sam’s eyes went wide at the
betrayal. The flash of anger was replaced by a hopeless despair as
their mom stopped beside the coffee table, casting it in her shadow.
A warm, post-workout aroma flowed from her sweaty, pink-hued skin and
damp clothes, causing Daisy to wrinkle her nose in response.
“It’s hard to imagine him
liking feet for much longer after what I have planned. Pinch your
nostrils shut, sweetie. This is going to be intense.”
Daisy didn’t hesitate to obey.
She had no desire to sample the horrendous stench that had likely
built up in those gym shoes. Her mom’s trainers were tattered and
almost completely worn-out. The fit, middle-aged woman had had those
things for around two years. Two years of abuse, of soaking up an
absurd amount of sweat, odour and filth.
Daisy’s mom sat on the couch,
right in front of where Sam was trapped. He was in tears now,
fighting the three measly strips of tape like a wild animal in a
cage. She leant forward, reaching down to her shoes on the floor, and
untied both sets of frayed laces. Off slipped a shoe, which she
brought up to the coffee table and waved around over Sam.
“Oh, you’re in for a treat
you pervert. What would your friends think if they knew you were
stealing your sister’s smelly socks to get off with? They’d think
you were disgusting. Today, we’re going to fix that. We’re going
to fix you. And this,” the trainer jiggled, “will play a
part. Brace yourself, Samuel, this will be stinky.”
Their mom slammed the trainer
down onto Sam, the opening swallowing him up. The sides crumpled
under pressure, causing the insole to get closer and closer to where
he surely was. Daisy grinned imagining how horrible it had to smell
in there—it was bad
enough out here, with her nostrils pinched shut and her mom’s
single bare foot at a reasonable distance away.
A minute later the running shoe
was removed, revealing that Daisy’s shrunken brother had ceased his
pointless struggles and was sobbing instead, limbs still.
“Think that was bad?” their
mom asked. Down on the floor her bare foot helped its twin free from
the other trainer. As the first was dropped to the floor, both
now-bare feet raised and landed on the coffee table, heels resting
mere inches away from Sam on either side. “Try my feet!”
Daisy stood and walked around the
coffee table for a better look. Sam didn’t even notice her, his
wide eyes were darting from foot to foot, forced to take tortured
breaths.
The bottoms of their mom’s feet
looked particularly nasty after that sockless workout. Her long,
soles were a deep shade of red, covered in a thin sheen of sweat.
Thicker drops beaded in places—in
the depths of wrinkles, in between fat-headed toes, eventually giving
in to gravity and rolling down the rough, mature skin, dodging around
lumps of grime and chewed-up pieces of old insole glued in place. The
toes curled then stretched, spreading slightly, displaying fouler
gunk hidden in their pits.
In
a moment of curiosity that she immediately regretted, Daisy unplugged
her nose and took a cautious sniff. The rush of stink caused her to
physically stumble backward in response. That’s
awful! she thought,
half grossed out and half amused—now knowing what her brother had
no choice but to endure. It was a hot, humid and cheesy odour, and
she had no doubt that she’d be able to smell it even in the
neighbouring kitchen or hallway.
“Enjoying
yourself, Samuel? Well, better get used to it, because we’re
staying like this for a few hours.
That’s right! Hours of nothing but smelling my sweaty feet.”
Hours?
Wow, Mom, harsh! Poor Sammy. Stuck tiny between Mom’s stinky feet
for hours. Unless…
“Mom,” Daisy said, pinched
nostrils causing her to sound nasally.
“What’s the matter, sweetie?”
“This—” Daisy suppressed a
giggle, “—isn’t the first time he’s stolen my dirty socks.”
She watched their mom shoot Sam a
withering look, who was now screaming once more, likely wishing to
argue his innocence.
“You’d better tell me what
happened.”
“Gladly!”
Daisy went on to make up a bunch
of lies, each making her brother’s reactions more and more violent.
Telling their mom how she’d been pretending to sleep whilst he
fished freshly-worn socks from her hamper, hidden as he pick-pocketed
sweaty socks from her trainers, acted as if she didn’t notice pairs
peeled off and dumped on the floor missing mere minutes later.
“Why didn’t you tell me
sooner?” her mom demanded.
“Because I didn’t want to get
Sammy in trouble! It’s just a fetish, Mom.” With a half-smirk,
she met Sam’s pleading gaze. “Sure, liking smelly, dirty feet is
gross, but it’s what he’s into.”
“No.
I won’t accept this. He’s violated your privacy, Daisy. You have
to understand that. Taken advantage of his own sister.
We have to snuff this out immediately, before it grows into a greater
problem. What if he can’t control himself and breaks into a girls’
locker room to steal footwear? That’s a crime! Thanks for informing
me of this, sweetie. Hours won’t cut it anymore. He’s going to be
suffering at my feet for days.”
We
can do better than that!
“Remember when you caught me
with cigarettes?”
“How could I forget. You
haven’t touched them since,” Daisy’s mom’s eyes narrowed,
“right?”
Daisy
nodded. “Exactly my point. You—we—need to repeat that, only
with stinky feet instead. I had to smoke an entire pack, even though
I was crying and doing nothing but apologising, I had to keep going.
By the end I was a wreck; snotty, wheezing, bloodshot eyes… but I
haven’t touched a cigarette since then.”
She strolled back around the
coffee table and reseated on the couch. Her mom’s feet moved along
as she lifted her own, kicking them up onto it. Now four feet towered
above her bound bug of a brother.
“We
need to expose him to our feet for much longer than he can take. We
have to ignore when he begs and cries—just like you did with me—and
push his limits far beyond what he wants. In a few… let’s say,
months,
he’ll be the normal, foot-detested son you’ve always dreamed of.”
Daisy
watched her mom’s deep-in-thought expression anxiously. Damn!
Why did I say months? She’ll never go for it. Weeks might have
worked. Oh well. I get to watch Sammy suffer at mom’s feet for
tonight, at least. I—
Slowly, their mom nodded. A smile
crept onto her lips.
“Yes… yes! Excellent idea,
sweetie. Sorry, Samuel, but this is for your own good. For the next
few months, you’ll be remaining at that size, experiencing nothing
other than our feet. Clean, dirty, sweaty. No matter what condition
they’re in, you’ll be smelling, kissing and licking them. You’ll
either in our shoes or tied to our soles. Every morsel of food will
be eaten from between our cheesy toes, mixed together with whatever
we find in those grubby little crevices. It sounds like a disgusting
way of torturing you—it pretty much is, in all honesty—but by the
end of it, you’ll thank us for ridding you of these perversions.”
Daisy and her mom flexed their
feet over her brother then. She was eager to torment him underfoot,
and she had a feeling that her mom felt similarly.
Best.
Prank. Ever. Who knew a pair of socks could be so effective?