Silence. It’s strange how in a house full of people, the noise can die so quickly. Perhaps It’s just the nature of humans to remain silent at night, for we do not know what lurks in the night, let alone what their intentions are. My intentions were not so pure, so the silence befits me. As I step out of my cage, I see from moonlight seeping through the windows my target, my prey. My mother’s abandoned flat was flayed on its side. I continue my walk to her shoes with every step; my doubt is ripped apart. I needed this. I tell myself it’s just a shoe doesn’t have to be my mother’s.
I walk to the giant shoe. I never noticed it before, but my mother’s foot must have been bigger than Brook’s as this shoe was giant. The stench that I’ve been huffing for the past few days was nothing compared to this, The raw source. It almost made me drop to my knees. It was like a completely different atmosphere down here. The air was laced with my mother’s smell, and inside there was still warmth in the air evidence of the shoe’s owner, still fresh. A shiver travels down my spine as I feel my cock harden. I look up, and I see the murky footprint of my mother, almost as an ominous warning for what is to come. The flat’s insole has completely melded to the shape of my mother’s foot; this footprint alone dwarfed me like some colossal ancient skeleton of the abuse my mother put these flats through. No, not my mother. It doesn’t have to be my mother’s; the shoes could be anyone’s, and the giant shadowy footprint could belong to anyone. I put my hand to the footprint and feel it sink in. I imagine someones foot’s doughy skin enveloping me, punishing me. I put my hand to my mouth and lick the salty vinegary the after taste of foot fills my mouth. “Fuck me,” I whisper to myself. The pure musty smell of foot dwarfed the natural leathery aroma, and there was a twinge of perfume hidden deep in the flat. I whip out my cock and begin rubbing it into the stinky insole. Moaning, I licked the insole. Not yet I need to go deeper.
I continue my stroll through the flat, observing the dirt and pebbles completely embedded into the insole. I imagine a barefoot sliding in the flat pushing my skull into the sole of the shoe; I moan in pleasure. The deeper I go in the shoe, the thicker the air gets; it begins to feel like a boiler room, the smell of vinegary becoming potent. I began to taste foot just from the air here. I reach where I want to be. I see the murky shape of the ball of the footprint and the five circles that belonged to her toes. Throwing away all inhibition, I begin humping the rough insole imagining a gigantic foot joining me in the shoe. “What do we have here,” the voice in my mind said. “ A little pervert in my shoe.” The voice spits out full of hate. I moan, increasing the speed, making out with the tiny bit of the giant toe print. The dirt and muck wash through my mouth, giving me a sour, salty dirt taste. “That’s right, bug hump, hump like that’s all your good for, after all, it is,” The voice says.
“Yes, yes, yes.” I moan. “Fuck yes.” My cock was touching the insole where a real person’s foot has been. My cock was pushing into the insole, almost like the insole was accepting it in. “Little buggy, you getting close?” The voice sang. “Yes!” I shout. The sensory overload was beginning to be too much, the miasma of foot, the voice in my mind, the insole. I feel my cock numbing as I approach the point of no return. Suddenly the voice changes resembling a familiar tone. “John, what are you doing here? What are you doing, after all I’ve done for you.” I hear the voice of my mother. “Wha-” I say, but It was too late. I shoot multiple loads onto my mother’s insole, staining it. I continue to hump, riding out my orgasm, offering up all my seed to the hungry insole. Almost immediately, the insole seems to accept the offering as my seed soaks into the toe print, disappearing. After the high comes down, the voices disappear, receding to whatever part of my subconscious they crawled out of. The realization hits me. I just humped my mother’s insole; the realization hits me. “What the fuck is wrong with me.” I sit down for a moment, trying to reconcile with the sin I had just committed. Disgust fills my bones; I want to give up right here. Just let whatever punishment god sees fit happen. I feel something else rising to the top of my broken psyche, a darker, more angry source. This bitch put me in a cage for two weeks with no access to the internet. This was all my mother’s fault; I didn’t make her shrink me. Also, this was Brook’s fault; she didn’t need to torture me this morning. My urge was this entire stupid family’s fault, not mine. I didn’t put their shoes there; I didn’t ask for this urge. I hope this bitch likes stepping in, baby batter, the darker voice rips through my mind. I get up and realize that I am already hard again; my hormones were all discombobulated. My urge has to be the shrinking’s fault.
I begin my walk back through my mother’s flat, knowing every excuse in the world couldn’t change the fact that something has changed inside me. I wanted more, and I didn’t know where I was going to stop to get it. I stop; my worse fear realized. Footsteps, someone is close. There was no way I would be able to make it back to my cage in time. I decide that I don’t want to end up underneath someone’s half-awake foot. I’d wait here. The footsteps begin to get louder, and then I see who was sneaking around. The ebony form of Jaz walks through the door frame. She was wearing a black shirt that barely contained her breasts and green pajama pants. Jaz must have spent the night over with Brook. “John?”, “ are you up?” Jaz walks to my cage, tapping on it. This situation was now going to top my previous record for the most embarrassing thing that has ever happen to me; The previous record was nutting into my mother’s shoe. Now I was going to be caught by my childhood crush nutting in my mother’s shoe. “ Think, John, think!” I shout to myself.
Jaz squats down and looks at the cage. I see her delicate fingers grasp my tiny door and open and close it. I knew that it wouldn’t be hard to put two and two together; the question became, do I just give up. I crawl quietly to the opening of my mom’s flat. I see Jaz look in the direction of the flat. For a moment, I thought our eyes met. I see Jaz bend over, picking up something off the ground. I squint, trying to see what it was, my discarded shirt. It appears that in my infinite wisdom, I left a trail of abandoned shrunken articles leading straight to my mother’s shoe. I facepalm. In a last-ditch effort, I run deeper into my mother’s flat, fearing whatever confrontation with Jaz would entail. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” I whisper to myself. I push myself against the wall of my mom’s flat and hold my breath all the good that would do. I hear muffled footsteps getting louder and louder, my heart racing. A drop of sweat dripped off my brow; I didn’t know whether it was mine or my mother’s foot. Suddenly the noise stops. I wait seeing if it was possible. Was I really going to get away with this? I crawl out of the toe section, my body resting on the last bit of my mom’s shoe. I found comfort in it, like a child unwilling to let go of their mother. I peer around the room to see if Jaz was still there. The bare mudroom greeted me as the room was basked in the pale moonlight. I take a step out from the shoe, but I hear a sound behind me; I flip around to see what it was.
“There’s Johnny.” I hear Jaz’s voice above, and I look up and see five ebony fingers outstretched towards me.