Jason shuffled uncomfortably in his seat, anxiously awaiting his date. It was his first date in years and he was keen to make a good first impression. Still the lack of transparency he’d shown in his messages with this girl made him nervous. He didn’t tell her everything, despite her request for there to be no skeletons in any closets. But he couldn’t tell her, there was no need for her to know, it would only serve to ruin things.

He’d served his time, and there was no way he was going back. That life was behind him now. If you could call that ‘life’, having every freedom taken from you. No, Jason in the last year had become the epitome of a law-abiding citizen - he didn’t even jaywalk. He just wanted to forget that whole sorry chapter of his life and move on. Not that this philosophy stopped the nightmares at all, but he was sure time would heal whatever wounds he may have had.

And getting back dating again was a big part of that process. A year since his release, Jason had tried to score some dates on the app previously. The first girl he tried stopped responding after he was a little too open with her, after that he resolved to keep quiet about his time served. The second one he tried had seemed positive, but she stood him up on the arranged date. This time he knew she’d show up, they’d hit it off straight away, apparently he was her ‘type’.

Her name was Sasha and was a schoolteacher. From her messages to him, Jason found her to be sharp, witty and have a devilish sense of humour. He could also tell she wasn’t too tech savvy, all of her photos were just a little off. Her profile picture was a nice enough picture of her taking a selfie from high above, but every selfie she’d sent him was at an odd angle, or blurry or her finger was in the way of the lens. Jason wasn’t too concerned with her pictures though, he enjoyed the messages he received from her far greater. She told him some embarrassing episodes from her past and even a few sexual things in her effort to be as up front as possible. In return, Jason told her everything. Everything except what had happened a few years ago.

Jason was desperate back then, out of work for over a year and had developed a crippling drink problem. One thing led to another and he found himself in deep with the wrong sort of people. In order to alleviate some of the debt, Jason took part in an armed robbery of a convenience store. The guns weren’t loaded; they were just there for intimidation. Things were going fine until one of the customers tackled Jason to the ground. Jason’s partners bolted from the store and he never saw them again. The cops arrived soon after, arresting, and later charging him with armed robbery. The judge sentenced him to three years when he admitted guilt.

But that was the past; a mistake he’d never make again, so why would he bring it up, it’d just bring the mood down. He didn’t want the stigma attached to him, so he decided to keep it quiet. That time of his life was irrelevant, so didn’t need mentioning. At least that’s how Jason was justifying his decision to himself. His phone buzzing next to him interrupted his thoughts; Sasha had sent him a message telling him her taxi was pulling up. This was it, time to meet his first date in years.

It was as if the bottom had fallen out from his world when he got to see her in the flesh for the first time. It couldn’t be her, surely not. The woman he feared wasn’t called Sasha and certainly wasn’t a schoolteacher, but the resemblance couldn’t be denied. There coming towards him was the woman who had tortured him for three long, agonising, years. She had her hair down her shoulders in golden brown ringlets, and a teal cocktail dress hugged her figure perfectly, she’d be the girl of his dreams if it weren’t for his memories of her. For a split second, Jason thought of bolting, but his hopes were dashed when he made eye contact with her, though this time, the eyes he met were not full of contempt and cruelty, but with joy and excitement.

“Jason!” She squealed as she approached him, “You look amazing!”

Jason didn’t move. It was definitely her; the voice was exactly as he remembered it. “Sasha’s” face fell into a frown “Is something wrong?” She asked, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost”

Jason snapped out of it quickly and strained a smile back at her. “Sorry,” he stammered, “mind was elsewhere.” He got up and kissed his date on the cheek and they both sat down. She even wore the same perfume. Though that was not the smell that really came to mind when he laid his eyes on her again. She seemed oblivious to his terror and picked up the menu on the table, which gave Jason a chance to let down his façade. She couldn’t be here, surely not? He’d moved since being arrested, and he didn’t really know where he was while serving time, but he couldn’t be this unlucky. He had to stay calm, or else she’d get suspicious. She was probably already wondering why his first expression was one of recognition, but what could he say? Of course, he recognised her! He was her shoe for three years.

The damn Carmichael Act was the cause of all this. Jails were getting overcrowded and reoffending had started to get out of control. That’s when Senator Laura Carmichael came up with the inspired idea of getting a third party in to assist. And this third party were the inventors of the Humie. Humies were what transformed people were referred to as. The company; Troika Industries had just created the process of turning human bodies into inanimate objects and Senator Carmichael had been keen to use this in the punishment of crime. After Troika kindly gave her a pair to test out, the Senator was convinced that this was the way forward.

After much lobbying and persuading the Carmichael Act was brought into law. Now, certain criminals would not spend time in jail, but rather serve it as a Humie. Demand was huge, so much so that a waiting list was put in place for anyone wanting one. Given that a Humie could be transformed into any object of mass less than or equal to the original person’s weight (outside of currency and valuables, which the law prohibited and food - eating a Humie was found to be toxic.) and were essentially indestructible, it was common for them to be used as clothing, frequently as shoes.

Thanks to that Act, Jason’s three-year sentence was spent as the woman, sitting across from him’s, shoe. Not just a single shoe, but also any shoe she wanted. Name the type, he’d been it; sandal, high heel, boot, slipper, flat, sneaker the list goes on. All that time being mocked and humiliated by the woman who’d called herself Sasha. He never actually knew her name - that information was forbidden to him. She insisted on him referring to her as Mistress, and to his annoyance, he found that he did. There was a mental block when he tried to remember her name as if the data had been erased from his head, but he knew what it wasn’t. There were nights he’s try and figure it out by working out what it wasn’t, but found those nights were some of the worst.

“Are you okay, you seem kind of shaken?” Sasha asked, a hint of worry in her eyes. She had no idea that man sitting opposite was her plaything for a whole three years. How could she know, she never saw him as a person, just a thing. If Jason could just snap out of it, he could actually have a good time tonight. He definitely didn’t want it to go any further, he doubted he could stand to have an actual relationship with the woman who tortured him, but for tonight, if he played his cards right, he could be in.

“Fine, sorry” Jason smiled, finally snapping himself out of his own thought train “I was just trying to think if I left the stove on.” It was a weak excuse, but Sasha seemed to buy it and she went back to browsing the menu.

“It all looks good, I think I’ll have lasagne,” She murmured. Jason hadn’t had the chance to actually look at the menu yet; he’d been so anxious about the date and had started fretting when he saw who his actual date was. He just agreed to have the same and the waiter went and took their orders to the kitchen.

Sasha excused herself as she went to the bathroom. As she walked away, Jason couldn’t help but look at the shoes she was wearing - a pair of teal strappy high heeled sandals which complemented her dress perfectly. Jason couldn’t help but think just over a year ago, it would be him under those feet; feet that seemed so huge to him back them, now looked so small and harmless. Vivid memories of being trapped underneath them, strapped to them, forced to taste and smell them overwhelmed Jason slightly, he scrunched his eyes closed and forced himself to think of something else. Sasha returned to see Jason with his face screwed up, shaking his head.

“Okay, something’s definitely up” She remarked, raising a solitary eyebrow at him. Jason looked up at her again, her expression a mix of concern and impatience. This was going terribly, he thought. He had to focus on getting through the date, and then he needn’t see her again.

“Sorry.” He began, “I’ve just had a really rough day.” He didn’t feel great about lying to her, but when the other option was to tell her that he was once where her sandals are now he knew it had to be done.

Sitting face to face with Sasha eased things a little. He was quite a bit taller than she was, so the perspective of seeing her as shorter than he, helped things along. As their food came, the couple talked amongst themselves. Everything Jason learned about Sasha was like a dagger to the heart, she was the perfect match for him, but he couldn’t pursue a relationship with her, even without considering his own hang-ups.

One thing he was warned about when he was being released was to avoid contact with his former ‘owner’. Anything deemed worthy of ‘revenge’ would be punished severely, so even if he wanted to, Jason couldn’t make this anything more than a simple date. Surely one date wouldn’t be considered extended contact. The main thing needling him were the details she gave him while they were still phone messaging, namely her name and occupation. While his resolve that he ruled out the name Sasha was weakening, after all he had no evidence that ruling out names was actually something he could do; he knew full well that she wasn’t a schoolteacher. She’d been a travel blogger, something that brought him no end of irritation, as he had to endure many different climates as her shoes. Jason decided he needed to get to the bottom of this.

“So how long have you been teaching?” Jason asked pointedly.

“Oh,” Sasha said at once, the change of direction in the conversation clearly startling her a little, she’d been under the impression they were discussing childhood pets, “Not long, a few months. I decided I needed a change of scenery so I retrained to be a teacher. Honestly, I haven’t done much teaching, more assisting while I get my qualifications.”

“So what did you used to do?” Jason asked, already knowing the answer.

“You’re going to say it’s not a real job” Sasha smiled, blushing. He didn’t remember her being so shy about her job when he knew her last, but then again there was a lot he didn’t know about her then.

“Oh go on” Jason insisted, a bit more forcefully than he anticipated.

“Fine” she sighed, her face beet red “I was a blogger. I used to write about holiday destinations. I would travel the world and write about places.” The last scrap of doubt that this woman wasn’t who Jason feared it was had disappeared, there was now no doubt that she was indeed his former ‘Mistress’.

After their meal was finished, Jason was a little relived and declined any offer of dessert. He was so mixed up, on the one hand, he hated this woman for everything she did to him for three years, but on the other hand, he was a Humie, being punished for a crime, what did he expect to be treated like? Now he knew the real Sasha she was kind, funny, smart, everything he liked in a woman. But he knew there was no hope as contact with a former owner was forbidden. Either way his hands were tied, he’d just have to let her down gently.

“If you’re not hungry for any dessert,” Sasha purred seductively, “then how about a little nightcap round my place?” She flirtatiously winked at him and now Jason was in a pickle. Part of him just wanted to leave and get out of there as fast as possible, put this behind him. But another more primal part of him knew he’d had the best date he’d ever had and an invite back to the home of a gorgeous and brilliant woman who seemed into him. If one date was fine, then surely he could extend the definition to include the end of the evening.

“Sure” Jason replied, in his best suggestive voice.

“Great” Sasha grinned and whipped her phone out “I’ll order the cab now.” Jason pushed all doubts to the back of his mind and began to look forward to a great night with Sasha. He’d find a way to call it off tomorrow, but for now he wanted to get something for all the hardship, his mind had put him through this evening. He just hoped the ominous feeling of dread that was floating around him would pass once he saw that Sasha’s intentions were perfectly innocent. From here, it was hard to see what could go wrong.

Four years ago, Jason sat alone in the holding cell, trying to process everything that was going on. The last few days had flown by in a breeze. His attorney had told him that leniency would likely be shown if he pleaded guilty, which he did. It wasn’t as if he had much of a defence, he was caught red-handed, with around seven witnesses seeing his face. He was bang to rights. What he did hope for was that his crime was petty enough to land jail time, rather than the alternative. His lawyer thought so too, until he came back from discovery with the prosecuting attorney to find that the shopkeeper whose store Jason and his friends robbed had suffered a stress related heart attack, scuppering any chance of the crime being seen as ‘petty’. Despite this, Jason still pleaded guilty; in the hope, the sentence would at least be commuted.

Jason could recall the feeling of utter despair as the judge laid down her verdict. She condemned his actions as that of a coward and said in spite of the gun being unloaded, it still caused distress to all involved in the robbery. She therefore condemned him to three years as a Humie. Three years, he would spend three years as a thing, as a belonging, having his humanity stripped and being used by some stranger. Jason was utterly still as the bailiff led him back to his cell. The sentence was due to be actioned in a few days’ time; in the meantime, Jason would be prepared for the next three years of his life.

The first visitor he had in this time was a scientist from Troika Industries, the company behind Humies, who explained to Jason exactly what was going to happen to him. His body would be broken down into energy and stored in a box, lovingly called the ‘Humie Box’. A control pad, similar to a tablet, will be connected to the box, which can control what happens to the energy. The control panel could change the energy into matter in the form of an object or equal or lesser mass than his original body. Jason’s mind would then be mapped to the object in an appropriate manner, with all five senses remaining intact, he would be aware of everything while in inanimate form.

In any solid form, he’d be unable to sleep, remaining conscious the entire time; the break from this would be when he was back in the box, where his mind would rest. He was told that any object he was changed into would basically be indestructible. Nothing that came away through use; i.e. a pencil or eraser, would work properly. And I couldn’t be changed into food. The scientists had found that ingesting a Humie could be fatal to both the Humie and the person eating. The scientist told him that research showed that Humies are most commonly used as clothing, but also have been used as tools, electronics, appliances and other less conventional things. He even recalled somebody who was and still is being used as a bicycle.

Knowing what would happen to him took away part of the element of the unknown, but the biggest unknown still eluded him. Who would take possession of him? He was told there was a waiting list and he’d be given to the person at the top of it, but that was all he was told. His next visitor was someone who themselves had spent a year as a Humie. It turns out he was one of the first to be sentenced under the Carmichael Act and now spent time speaking to people who were due to undergo the process.

His name was Andrew and a couple years back he’d been involved in some credit card fraud. This earned him a year’s sentence as a Humie. He ended up the property of some rich family, for the entire year he was basically a toy box for their youngest daughter. He told me he was at different times a doll, a plush bear, a set of building blocks and even a pram. Jason asked him what it felt like to which Andrew replied that it was weird having no control over your own body and being in non-humanoid forms really freaked him out, but time spent in the box formless, was zen and he looked back on those times as the best. Jason wondered if Andrew had gotten off easy with his time, being played with by a little girl seemed harmless enough. The rumours he’d heard about other people who’d been sentenced to time as a Humie continued to worry him.

Jason’s final visitor before the fateful day was an intimidating looking man who called himself Warden Price. The Warden was in charge of the Humie punishment for the state, and Jason could see he was not a man to cross. He was a tall well-built man, wearing a suit that looked perfectly tailored to his frame. He looked to be in his mid to late fifties, wearing an expression of contempt when he looked at Jason, an expression he guessed was used on all prisoners in his care. The Warden’s mouth was partially covered by a long silver moustache, which hung down from his nose.

“Tomorrow’s the big day,” The warden wheezed, holding his belt. He’d insisted on making Jason sit while he stood over him. “You’ll be taken from this place to the Troika facility where the Humification process will begin. Once complete you will be presented to your owner for the next three years. This owner has been briefed on the length of your sentence and your crime, but not your identity. They will then decide what to do with you, as you will be then, legally, their possession. They are prohibited from selling you during this time, but permission can be sought to loan you out. If you are lost by your new owner, facility staff have the means to return you to your box. If your box is lost, facility staff can track it. Do you understand?”

The Warden rattled through his list as if he had said it thousands of times previous, which Jason assumed he had. Jason was lost for words; he just looked up at the Warden and nodded.

“One last thing. Once your sentence is complete, you will be delivered back to the facility and returned to your normal form. It is imperative to point out that any attempts to track down your owner following your sentence will be considered a re-offence. Mitigating circumstances will be considered if such a reunion is deemed accidental, but you are advised on the strongest terms to never see your owner again, after the sentence is complete.”

To Jason the end of his sentence seemed to long into the future. He may as well be describing what would happen in the next century. Once again, Jason nodded his understanding and the Warden turned and left Jason alone with his thoughts. That night he didn’t sleep a wink, unable to rest while he knew the next day that he wouldn’t be human anymore.

It was early in the morning when they came for him. He was bundled into the back of a van and driven to a local Troika facility. There he was led by the Warden and two bailiffs to processing. The room looked pristine and sterile, in the middle of the room was a large MRI style machine. Next to it, inputting data into the device was the scientist who had visited Jason earlier, who smiled when he saw Jason arrive.

“Aah, you’re early,” he beamed, clapping his hands together eagerly, “no matter, no matter. We’re just about ready”

Jason thought this guy took a little too much pleasure in his work, as he quickly turned back to his display and finalised some details. The other day, men had come and taken all sorts of data from Jason; his height, his weight, arm span even his blood pressure.

“Does he know what the process is?” The scientist asked the warden.

“It’s been explained to the prisoner.” The warden replied curtly. Jason started to panic, this was really happening. He wanted nothing more than to escape, but knew it was futile. His arms were bound and the bailiffs were armed. Any resistance might end up with him with an even longer sentence, or worse, permanent.

Jason was placed onto the platform and shackled in. No escape now. The scientist pressed a button on the side of the machine and Jason was slowly fed into it. His last sight before being totally engulfed inside the contraption was the scientist mouthing ‘Good Luck’ to him. The machine was sealed and a loud noise filled Jason’s head. His body started to vibrate and he found himself no longer bound, not by shackles, not by anything. He had no form anymore - he was shapeless. A second noise filled his mind and he felt himself get pulled away from the place where he was and confined in a small space. The noises stopped and Jason guessed the process had finished. He was now a Humie, awaiting an owner.

Andrew was right about one thing, being in the shapeless form had a weird calming effect. Jason was terrified about what was happening, and petrified about whom his owner would be, but ultimately couldn’t get worked up like this. He felt mild jostling of his container, but lost all sense of time. Which is why it didn’t feel like any time at all before he was activated and was ready to meet his owner.

Jason found himself in a huge room, lying on carpeted floor. His new form felt small, very small and flat. He could feel limbs poke out of his body in strange directions and they met in the middle. As expected, Jason could not budge an inch like this, he was totally inanimate. Jason was struggling to think what he might be when he saw her for the first time. His new owner.

She knelt above him, even kneeling looking like a titan. She was pretty enough, long light brown hair tied back into a ponytail. Her face was twisted into a sneer as she examined Jason closely. He wanted to shout, to scream, but had no voice. He was completely at this woman’s mercy. He didn’t know what he was, what she intended to do with him, but from the expression on her face, he didn’t think it would be good.

“Oh wow, it actually worked!” She smiled, standing up, making Jason feel even smaller. “Okay robber-boy here’s the deal. I’m not supposed to tell you my name, so you can call me Mistress in our time together. Not that I’ll be able to tell what you call me - it won’t matter. I don’t care what you think about me, because the opinion of a Humie is absolutely worthless. You’re a thing now. My thing. And you’ll spend your time as my thing beneath my feet. I’ve been wondering what to do with you since I got told you were mine, and making you into my personal shoe collection seems the best option.”

The bottom fell out of Jason’s world as he realised what he was. He was a sandal! A woman’s sandal. The next three years, he’d be nothing but footwear for this woman. He couldn’t see her feet from this angle, though he strained himself trying to see. Almost reading his mind, the woman lifted her foot above Jason, pointing her toes at him.

“You’d better get used to this sight, shoe-boy” she taunted, “This is your life for the next three years.”

Her toe poked Jason’s new body and he had his first taste of his Mistress’s foot. As she moved her foot into him, he was distressed to find that no matter where her foot touched him he could always taste it. At once, she slammed her foot down, pressing down on Jason flat, Jason felt as though he had just been crushed as he felt giant fingers manipulate his limbs, what he now knew to be straps. She fastened his buckle and Jason was now secure on his owner’s foot. He was then horrified to discover that he could feel, smell and taste everything on the other shoe too, as his owner repeated the process. She was now fully wearing him; he was nothing more than a pair of sandals.

Jason was a little relived to find his vision seemed to be focussed on top on of his straps, so he wasn’t left in darkness. That relief didn’t last long as his Mistress took her first step wearing him. If he still had a stomach, he’d have thrown up. He moved at a speed that he never could when he was human. Relatively speaking of course, he knew that he could only have been going as far as his Mistress’s leg carried him, but in his new, far smaller, frame it was like travelling at a rate of knots.

Seconds later, he realised where she was taking him to - a full-length mirror. There for the first time, Jason got a true look at his new body. At first, he was confused, not used to looking into a mirror and not seeing a face reflected. Instead, he was faced with the lower half of a woman’s legs, the legs adorned with black leggings, which stopped halfway up her calf. And on her feet were a pair of thong sandals; modest looking with several black straps came out of a thin sole and were wrapped around the feet. Seeing this, Jason got a sense of himself; he could feel his straps cling tightly to the foot. He watched as his mistress drummed her toes and he felt the impact of each individual toe strike back down on his body. He couldn’t deny reality; he was just a simple pair of sandals now.

“You look so good on my feet” Jason heard his mistress coo. He tried to look up at her, but got a sense of vertigo when he did, so massive was she to him. “Don’t worry if you don’t like the way you look. I’ve got plenty more ideas for you to come”

He saw his mistress turn around, then lost sight of the mirror as he was carried away. This was it; the next three years of his life would be this. Used as nothing but a shoe, by an uncaring bitch. Desperate for something to cling to, the only thing he could think of was every second in this hell, was another second closer to the end of his sentence.

***

Jason had never longed for rest more than he did at this point. He was lying it utter darkness, pressed up to his Mistress’s warm foot, having not moved in over an hour. The conditions were perfect to just drift away, but his stupid body wouldn’t let him. He felt every single inanimate second of his existence beneath this bitch; to make things worse it had been over two weeks since he was in his box.

Jason had been a Humie for seven months now, and to say he was used to his lot in life was to give his lot a bit too much credit. He was used to being stepped on, used to being dangled, to stinking of foot sweat every evening. But he couldn’t say he was content, he hated every second of his Humie life. He just had no means of complaint or protest. There was nothing he could do about it except lie there and take it, but this was just pushing his limits.

A couple weeks back, his Mistress had used the box to change Jason into a pair of ballet flats. Apparently, he was designer and had a market value in four figures. Jason didn’t care for fashion and was at a loss how anyone could pay thousands for a simple pair of shoes. She told him he was made of satin, not that it made a difference. He felt the same as when she turned him into a pair of Crocs, just a shoe. So proud was his Mistress of Jason’s new form, she refused to change him back, keeping him out of his box, so he stayed in his current form.

No more relaxing time spent formless in his box, now he lay unawakening through the night, totally motionless, it was driving him insane. When daylight finally came, he could hardly enjoy it, as soon his Mistress’s foot was inside of him. He couldn’t decide what was worse, being worn or being left out. By now, Jason's Mistress had figured out how to change his point of view, so now he no longer looked out from the top of his shoe body, but from his insole. This stopped the motion sickness he got when she walked in him, but now he had the horror every day of seeing his Mistress’s foot close in on him.

For the whole two weeks, his Mistress would go out wearing Jason, show him off to whomever would listen, and when at a loose end, dangle him from her toes. He’d been in one form for so long now that the smell from the feet clung to him; he could feel his body had warped around her feet. He began to wonder if she was planning on keeping him like this for the rest of his sentence. That was until the magnificent day when she read online that the control panel would allow you to ‘bookmark’ certain forms. She had kept Jason as he was as she was worried she wouldn’t be able to find the same form again. She complained loudly that there was almost too much choice in the control panel. Jason wished he had that problem. He had all choice taken from him when the process started, now he was less than a person, just a possession.

It was blessed relief when finally he was back in his box, formless once more. He couldn’t see anything, feel anything, or smell anything. He was just existing - it was peaceful. That was until he was pulled out once more to be a pair of wedges. No peace for the wicked, he thought as once more, he saw a massive foot hover above him.

***

Jason had always wanted to travel, to go to exotic climes, to relax on a beach and watch the day go by, but not like this. He was in Rio de Janeiro, the famous Copacabana beach soaking up rays enjoying a perfect view of Sugarloaf Mountain. The only problem was he was doing so as a flip-flop. He was acutely aware of his Mistress’s foot beside him, completely dwarfing him, as she lay sunbathing. Her job entailed travelling the world and writing about her experiences, which seemed like a dream job to Jason, but he often heard her complain about it to her friends.

During his time with her, he’d been all over and all sorts of footwear in that time; winter boots in Canada, geta shoes in Japan, jutti in India to name a few. It wasn’t the way Jason wanted to see the world, though he mostly only saw the inside of hotel rooms, so relatively speaking he was practically sightseeing here in Rio. He couldn’t relax though, knowing at any moment, his Mistress may decide to scoop him back onto her feet and traipse around in him in the hot sand. Jason tried to enjoy what was a rare moment of quiet in his current life, but once again was too anxious about what his Mistress may do next.

It was a cause for some celebration, however muted, that his Mistress had told him a few days back that he’d been in her ‘care’ for eighteen months now. He was halfway through his sentence and somehow still had his sanity, he thought he was a goner when he found out he’d be a glorified shoe cabinet for some spoilt brat for three years.

He was now over the hump, he had made it eighteen months, he could make it the rest of the way. For the first time in a long time, he could see light at the end of the tunnel. He was as close to content as it was possible to be as a sentient flip-flop. So much so, that he wasn’t even that annoyed when the foot behind did eventually scoop him up and grip him between her toes. As his Mistress walked to join some acquaintances playing volleyball, Jason just tried to focus on the big picture.

***

The wind got knocked out of Jason for the 150th time that minute, as his Mistress entered her third lap of the park. He thought he preferred it when she used him as socks rather than sneakers way back at the beginning of his sentence. Back then, she had a pair of lucky running shoes, so told Jason he’d just have to make do with being her socks. Being softer and less rigid, Jason didn’t think it was so bad, in spite of how much wetter it made him. But annoyingly, his Mistress broke her ‘lucky’ running shoes, so Jason was brought in to replace them.

It’d been a while since his Mistress had mocked him by saying how long he’d been her Humie. Jason wondered if it was because her time with him was running out. He didn’t know the exact time of year, but it was cold out right now, and Jason had overheard her saying something about losing Christmas weight. If that were true, and it was January, then Jason would only have around three more months of this hell to endure. It was little wonder she didn’t tell him, it clearly meant a lot to his Mistress to own a Humie, as a convenience, a power trip and a status thing. She bragged about Jason to all her friends, occasionally allowing them to try Jason on, but not for more than a couple minutes.

Jason found the experience of being on other people’s feet a little weird, not least because he felt he could tell the difference between them and his Mistress’ feet. She had a mole on the side of her right foot, that, when he was a particularly tight shoe she was wearing bare foot, he could always feel. So when he couldn’t feel that, it was a little weird. He was very weirded out by how well he knew his Mistress’s feet, he could tell, broadly, from her toe scrunches or twitches what she was feeling at any one time. When this was all over, he never wanted to see another foot as long as he lived. Before his sentence, they were just things that were there, now they were the stuff of nightmares. He knew some people were sexually attracted to feet, he sometimes wondered if one of those guys were in his situation; whether they’d be put off by feet after three years.

He’d gotten used to so much of his life now; he knew going back to being human again would be hard to get back used to. Having agency, having the simple ability to move, having a constant body, all these things that he had taken for granted, he’d have back. Nothing could surprise him anymore about his life. While her running shoe, his insole was getting thick with sweat, but the taste and smell no longer bothered him. She’d stepped in dog shit, but that must have been the hundredth time she’d done it. He certainly wouldn’t miss the misery his life had become these last couple years, but he knew he wouldn’t adjust to being back to normal again quickly.

***

He knew the form he was in, out of all the forms he’d been this was the one that stuck out to him the most, because it was the first. He was back as those thong sandals; his Mistress had changed him into all those years ago. In fact, it was his first time in that form since that day. He’d been practically every other type of shoe since then, even some other types of thong sandal, but this one in particular really resonated. He would never forget the reflection he saw that day, of himself strapped to his Mistress’s feet, feeling her weight atop him, feeling his straps hold her foot in place on top of him. And he think he knew why he was back in this form. Today was the day.

Three years had passed and he was going to be human again. He hadn’t expected his Mistress to be sentimental enough to change him into the first shoes she’d ever keyed into his control pad, but here he was, once again, his straps firmly gripping her feet, buckled in. It had been a while since his Mistress had addressed him directly. For the first two years, she couldn’t put him on without her mocking him, belittling him, then the gaps between mocking’s became greater and the last few months, she’d barely even looked at him.

Part of him was grateful for it, but another part missed them. Being insulted by his Mistress reminded him that despite appearances, he was a person. A living, thinking person. Now it was as if he was just an object to her. He wondered how much of that was her getting used to having a Humie and how much of it was resentment that she would have to give him up. While she didn’t talk directly to him, she had talked about him to friends. She’d complained that it was unfair that some people got Humies from the waiting list on life sentences, and that she only got a few years. But that was just the luck of the draw. Back when he was awaiting the change, the warden had told him that he would be given to whomever was top of the list, she should just count her lucky stars she got someone with three years rather than one or less.

Jason’s thought was interrupted when he felt his buckle be undone and he was plucked from the foot and lifted up. For the first time he was face to face with his Mistress, without her looking down on him. He thought she’d have been really pretty if it wasn’t for the torture the last three years had been.

“Well shoe-boy, this is it!” She sighed. “This is goodbye. I’d like to say you’ve been a good Humie, but good Humies last forever. It really isn’t fair that I have to give you up, but if I don’t I’ll end up in a Humie box and be as pathetic as you are.”

Part of Jason now wanted her to keep him, just to see her be dragged off to the Troika facility and be put through exactly what he’d been through. Fat chance though. She lived a charmed life, from what Jason had seen, everything got handed to her on a silver platter. The way things were she’d get the easiest Humie life possible or even just let off on a warning.

“So it’s with great regret that we must part ways,” she continued, “but don’t worry. I have a feeling we’ll see each other again someday.”

And it was that thought that was whizzing around Jason’s mind as he was once more in his box. Did she not know about the no contact rule? He didn’t like the vaguely threatening look in her eye, though he wasn’t sure if he was just imagining it. He’d hardly seen her face; he got a better read of her emotions from the movement of her toes than the look on her face.

The next time Jason was out of the box, he was human again. Excitedly trying to move, Jason fell flat down on his face, his legs not responding in time to his mind’s command. He was helped up by the nurses on hand and was told that due to the length of his sentence, he would need a week’s stay in the recovery ward, but was told he was no longer considered a prisoner.

During this week, Jason once more had a visit from the Warden who came to interview him. He was warned once more about no seeking out his owner, but Jason assured him that was the last thing he wanted to do. The Warden seemed satisfied with that and Jason’s likelihood to reoffend. Jason felt he was never likely to reoffend from the second he was arrested, but the three years he’d spent had solidified that in his mind. With Ex-Humies, if they reoffend, no matter how minor, they will be re-Humified, though this time in the charge of a different owner.

Jason turned down the chance to speak with therapists about his time served, not wanting to relive it in anyway. He just wanted to move on with his life, and had planned to move to the other end of the country. Although he couldn’t be sure that anywhere he moved would be further away from his Mistress than where he was now, given the Humie punishment was done in State divisions, he felt moving out of state would be the best option.

As soon as his motor function had fully returned and he had passed a medical, Jason was discharged and immediately set about moving a long way away. It took working three jobs and two months, but eventually Jason had enough to get himself set up in a town four states over. There, he thought, he could finally move on with his life, never to let another soul know what had happened to him while a Humie, and while he could focus his mind fine while awake, in his nightmares he often saw his last sight as a shoe; his Mistress’s evil looking face, promising they’d meet again.

After months of planning, it was finally time to get back what was rightfully hers. The idea that anybody could only be ‘temporarily’ a Humie was absurd, once he was property, he would always be property. He was responsible for someone’s death. Because of him, there was now one less life in the world. Life for a life, Iris thought, there’s no way he should have ever been allowed to be human again.

Strictly speaking, Iris wasn’t supposed to know her old Humie was called Jason O’Connor. She wasn’t supposed to know what he looked like as a person, and she certainly wasn’t supposed to know he’d moved out to a small west coast town, not long after his sentence. Iris was determined though and sought out answers to her old pet’s identity. She’d had to play the long game in order to do it.

Iris had gone to Troika’s local facility incognito, to pretend she was interested in actually becoming a Humie, but wanted more information. She was taken into a small room by a young lab assistant called Nathan. Nathan looked a year or two older than her and she could tell was a little intimidated by speaking one to one with her. This was her in, swiftly getting past the Humie talk, she started to flirt with Nathan, who clearly hadn’t been flirted with his whole life. He was so taken aback; he didn’t even notice that Iris had dropped her interest in volunteering as a Humie altogether.

Iris then asked Nathan out on a date, which he immediately accepted. Iris smirked knowing she was now a step closer to reclaiming her ‘lost property’. All she had to do was string the poor love struck sap along for long enough to get access to some confidential data. The length of time wasn’t as long as she’d thought. After a month of disappointing dates and disappointing sex, she and Nathan were well and truly an item. Nathan was so amazed that this gorgeous woman seemed so interested in him, he missed things such as she never invited him to her place, or introduced him to her friends and family. Iris meanwhile was introduced to everyone Nathan had ever come in contact with.

She was relieved that she’d given him a fake name, to go along with their fake relationship, or else someone she actually respected might trace this back to her. On a day when she knew he’d be working late, Iris showed up to Troika again. She claimed she forgot he was finishing late and asked if she could wait in his office. Reluctantly, Nathan agreed and buzzed her into the staff area of Troika, which looked very sterile and clean.

Nathan escorted her to his desk, passing some of Nathan’s co-workers along the way. They all knew who she was as Nathan had made sure everyone knew his girlfriend. As they arrived at Nathan’s office, she subtly watched as he inputted his password, smirking as she realised it was the name she’d given him spelled backwards with numbers replacing some letters. She found it kind of adorable, though not enough to feel any great shame about using him like this.

She then had to play the waiting game as Nathan continued with his work, which had something to do with spreadsheet data. Iris cared very little for what he was doing; she just waited for her chance to strike. It finally came after forty-five minutes of waiting as Nathan got up to go to the bathroom. As soon as he was out of sight, she pounced towards the locked computer. She quickly looked around to see if she was being watched before inputting the password and logging into Nathan’s profile.

She loaded up the database of Humies which Nathan had told her about one night where she got him drunk enough to loosen his tongue. The list was way bigger than she’d expected, just how many people had become Humies? They’d only been around for a few years. She managed to find a filter that took out non-criminals but the list was still extensive. Knowing she was running low on time, she used her phone to take screenshots of the five pages worth of prisoners who’d been Humified in this lab. Quickly closing the database down and locking the computer once more, Iris smiled knowing step one of her mission was accomplished.

She now no longer needed Nathan and left the lab, without even waiting for him to come back from the bathroom. She’d never see him again, she thought as she left the facility. IT was a shame really, she was actually beginning to like the dork, but she needed to stay focussed on her goal.

Searching through the database was tiring, but she’d managed to eliminate people who it couldn’t be; people with longer or shorter sentences, or people who had committed different crimes. She’d narrowed it down to three, all of whom served three years for armed robbery. She couldn’t get any more specific, her rush to get the information meant she had to leave out certain pieces of data, but it would have to do. Having three suspects was easier than having millions.

She cross-referenced the names with news articles, looking to see if she could find her prize. After hours of searching, she finally found something solid. One of the names on her list was involved in a robbery in which an elderly shopkeeper had suffered a heart attack and died. She was told something like that by the moustache guy just before she was given her Humie. This was him. The shoe who was now pretending to be a person was called Jason O’Connor and she was determined to track him down. She scanned the pictures of him in articles. He looked disappointingly generic; as Iris searched for something distinguishing, she could use to positively identify him. Then in a picture taken of him leaving court, she spotted a tattoo of a condor, on his right arm. She had exactly what she needed. Iris smirked at the irony of him being identified by a bird of prey. She liked the design and thought that when she had her Humie back, she may have it printed on his body.

He didn’t have any social media, which made tracing him difficult. It was clear he’d left, and quickly when she discovered that his apartment was now empty. Determined not to give up, she found out through one of his old neighbours that he’s moved out to a town called Redmond on the west coast. So, she thought, he’s moved to the other side of the country to avoid me?

Iris made a post on her blog that she’d be going away for a while to stop anyone pestering her for work. She packed up, rented out her apartment, and rented a small house out in Redmond. It was a small town for sure, but seemed just big enough that they wouldn’t bump into each other accidentally. For her plan to work, she needed the conditions to be right. Iris then started setting up a fake identity for herself; she’d be Sasha Phillips, schoolteacher. That seemed unassuming enough.

Iris was sure one thing he’d be doing would be to seek out romantic interaction. She scanned personal ads and subscribed to all the dating apps she could think of, looking for her prey. After a few weeks, he was being annoyingly elusive. She hadn’t seen nary hide nor tail of him since she moved out to Redmond. She started to wonder if the information she’d gotten was false. She’d invested a hell of a lot of time and money into this escapade, to see it fail would be so disheartening. Then, when driving to the store, she saw him at the crosswalk. It took a few moments for the realisation to sink in, Iris hadn’t actually seen her prey in person before, she just had photos to go on, but that was him, right down to the tattoo of a condor on his right arm. She had the right place, now she just needed to set the trap.

After a few more weeks of trying, Iris finally spotted him on one of her dating apps. ’Jason, 34’ was looking back at her, posing in such a way that his muscles flexed. He looked quite a lot younger than he did when Iris spied him in the street; she guessed it was a picture from before he became her property. She swiped to indicate that she was interested, and waited for him to respond. She was sure he’d be interested in her, most guys were. She’d made sure to take the profile picture from a high angle, given he was so used to seeing her from below, that might give the game away. For good measure, she also styled her hair in a way she’d never done so before and worn a thick-rimmed pair of glasses.

It was only a few hours before she received a message; it was from him. She knew how to play it, string him along, until he’d be desperate for a date. He wasn’t quite as needy as she thought he’d be and the next few days were spent exchanging messages. She even teased him a little, saying it was important to her that they were both honest with each other. Everything Iris had fed him so far was a pack of lies, but she wanted to see if he’d mention his crimes. He didn’t even say he was in prison, to cover for the fact he was nothing but a shoe now. He’s just asking for his fate, Iris thought.

It was a couple weeks before he suggested meeting up for a date. Iris had him and now she could enact the second part of her plan. He was a little evasive about meeting up, but a bit of arm twisting and he cracked. He suggested a restaurant; Iris knew to be rather cheap. His last action with agency was to cheap out on a date, further convincing Iris that this was the right thing to do.

From the frequency of messages she was getting, it was clear to Iris that her prey was nervous. Truth be told, she was too. This was the culmination of months of planning, and if he recognised her and bolted, then all would be for nought. She then wondered if he would bolt upon recognising her. How would he explain that? ‘Sorry babe, I just realised I was your shoe for three years’. The way he’d lied about his past showed her he was dead set on ignoring his true calling. The more she thought about it, the more she actually wanted to test the waters.

Iris abandoned the idea of going incognito and decided to show up looking, just as her Humie remembered her. She styled her hair in her usual way and ditched the glasses she’d worn in pictures sent to him. All nerves were now replaced with a morbid curiosity of how he’d react when he saw her. She got in the waiting taxi and messaged him to say she was on her way.

The second they locked eyes, Iris instantly saw the flicker of recognition and the colour drain from his face. This was perfect; he was like a rabbit in the headlights. She wondered how far she could push him as she waved cheerily at him and approached the table. He began stammering through conversation, offering pathetically weak excuses for his behaviour. Iris sweetly played the innocent as she offered him more rope. Eventually he started asking probing questions about her job. He was fishing for final proof that she was who he thought she was.

A devilish smile flickered across her face as Iris told him the news that he feared, that she was a travel blogger. He stayed quiet throughout most of the meal and turned down the offer of dessert. Iris needed to act or else all would be ruined. Putting on her best ‘fuck me’ eyes she presented him the chance to go back to her place instead. She could see the cogs turning in his mind as he weighed up going back with her. At the end of the day though, Iris knew she had him. He had one fatal flaw – he was a man. Well, not for much longer.

Iris and Jason began making out in the back of the taxi going back to Iris’s place. She found it a little off-putting to be kissing a Humie like this, but it was all part of the bigger picture. Iris plied her quarry with drinks as they chatted into the night, she could see his worries and doubts fade from his eyes as the alcohol took hold. It was almost time for the final step. Lustily, she beckoned Jason to her bedroom, where she made a meal of getting it open.

“You want me to try?” he slurred, growing impatient.

“No, this happens all the time. Could you get me a knife from the kitchen, I’ll jimmy it open.” Iris said. Once Jason had left to go to the kitchen, she got into position.

Jason emerged from the kitchen, a large fillet knife in hand. But when he came back to the bedroom door, his date wasn’t there.

“Babe?” He asked, “Where’d you g-”

Jason didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence as he was smacked over the head with a bat. Iris had only needed him to be carrying a knife to finish her plan. Putting on her best fearful voice, she called the police and informed them a drunken man had broken into her home, blabbing something about revenge.

***Four Months Later***

Iris kept looking out the window, waiting for the courier to arrive. They said it would be today. Granted they said it would be two weeks ago, but the damned idiot insisted on appealing. That was all over now and she would soon have her property returned to her. The investigation was swift, the system never looked too kindly on former Humies who reoffended. The Humie punishment was meant to prevent any chance of committing another crime, so when someone did anyway, the book was thrown at them. Such a harsh reaction was very useful to Iris, given anything could have brought her plan crashing down. The taxi driver wasn’t interviewed, no witnessed from the restaurant were sought out. It was her word against his, and Iris was an exceptional liar.

The sound of a van parking up outside, lead Iris to pull back the curtains for the tenth time that day. She saw a man in a navy uniform walk up to her house. She shot to the door and opened it before he even had time to ring the bell. She signed the forms she was required to and the courier handed her over the box, which had been hers one and a half years ago and would now be hers for the rest of her life.

Iris was excited to finally get back to her life; it had been on hold while she sought to get her property back. She could resume her travel blogging, especially now her Humie was back in it’s rightful place. As she carried the box into her living room, she absent-mindedly planned to book a trip to Prague to celebrate. Eastern Europe was lovely this time of year. Looking down at the familiar panel, she browsed through the options she had, before realising she knew exactly what to make her Humie into first.

Jason couldn’t rest, not even in his formless shape. He was incensed at being cheated out of his life. Sasha, or Iris as he now knew her name to be had manipulated and framed him now he would be a shoe forever. The security staff forwent all secrecy once it became clear the change would be permanent. Told him all about his former owner. A few of them suspected he was telling the truth about being tricked, but they were powerless to help. Troika Industries insisted any reoffender be permanently Humified, to save face. Any trial he had was merely a show trial. Kangaroo court where Iris cried crocodile tears telling lie after easily disproved lie. The fact was his fate was sealed the second he didn’t bolt from that date. He hated himself for not running away, for not saving himself. Now his punishment was the loss of his humanity.

The feeling of his body being formed surrounded him as his panel was activated. Soon he would see who he’d been given to. If he could have screamed he would have, as Iris’s smug satisfied face looked down on him once more. They’d given him back to her. He knew he was that same sandal, the one she changed him into first, the one he was when she told him she’d be back for him and now the one she’d changed him into when he knew there was no escape. He was deaf to her taunts, she was saying things, he wasn’t listening. He merely stared back at the bitch who stole his life and wished a painful cruel end to her life. Unfortunately, shoes don’t get wishes, they get feet. Very soon afterwards, Jason was dropped to the floor and reacquainted with Iris’s foot. This was his life now, serving the feet of the woman who stole his life. He wondered if he’d ever get used to it, as he was strapped in and tasted the stale foot sweat once more. This was it now. Life.