As Mike inhaled the sour, cheesy stench of Megan’s bare toes, he couldn’t fathom how he could have wound up bound, gagged and naked on the floor of a sorority house. For at least fifteen minutes now, Megan had been rubbing her stinking, sweaty feet all over his face and demanding that he smell them. There must have been about ten or so co-eds, all of them laughing and chatting as if they couldn’t be having more fun. But for Mike, it was humiliating and degrading to have these women rub their sweaty, smelly feet all over his face so freely.
As Megan flexed her long, sweaty toes over Mike’s nose, he got another noseful of an odor reminiscent of stale cheese popcorn, but with a tinge of something sharper and almost nauseating. These girls must rarely change their socks. His attempt to twist his head away from her foot was futile, evoking laughter from the girls surrounding him. Megan easily manipulated his face with her large, sweaty size ten and a halfs, pressing one bare foot over his face and holding one side of his head with another foot.
Erica, sitting behind him, was using her bare feet on the base of his skull, toes over his ears, to hold his head still. Megan occupied a chair placed over his chest, and she gazed upon him with a bemused grin as she rubbed her foot sweat into his face.
“I suppose you love my stinky feet in your face,” she exclaimed.
Mike wanted to protest, as he’d been doing all day, that he cared nothing for stinky feet; but it was their belief that he loved the smell of ripe female foot odor. He attempted to speak, but he could say nothing with his mouth gagged. The girls just laughed at him.
“I’ve never seen a guy who loves stinky feet, fight it this much,” remarked Samantha.
Megan then pressed the tips of her toenails, flecked with chipped maroon nail polish, against his nostrils. The rank, cheesy stink was sickening, but he had no choice but to sniff.
“I think he just prefers the pungent smell from under my toenails,” said Megan. “I think he just has high standards.” The others laughed.
The others talked amongst themselves as they rubbed their bare feet and sock feet over his body. Erica’s toes occasionally played over his shoulders, while Paige and Samantha rubbed their feet over his arms and chest. Lil and Melissa played footsies with his legs.
But Mike couldn’t understand how they could be so casual about compelling him to smell their rank, unwashed feet. To spend days wearing the same socks or sneakers without socks, just to have him smell their toes seemed calculated and cruel. What had he done to deserve this? And to think that they behaved as if they were doing him a favor, as if they’d gone to all the effort to make their feet smell awful just for his sake.
Megan flexed and wiggled her toes over his nose and smiled at him. “That a boy, smell them so everyone can hear.” Mike took a deep, audible breath. Oh, her feet smelled terrible; didn’t she realize it? As Megan began to slide her sweaty feet over his face, while Erica slid her raunchy size 8’s feet over his cheeks, he began to reflect on the events of the day. When had it all begun?
Two days before, Mike made his rounds at the girl’s school, one of the four college campus’ located within a stone’s throw of one another. It was his job to post the fliers for the intercampus events, and, armed with a stapler and tape, he proceeded to do just that.
But this day was different. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it at first, but he noticed that the girls gazed at him more than usual, as if her were the subject of some notoriety. On one occasion, he walked past a group of girls sitting on the lawn who, as he approached, giggled amongst themselves, and whispered to each other. They were clearly talking about him.
He checked his fly, but it was done up; and there were no holes in his pants. He grazed a hand over his face, but there seemed to be nothing about him that could be causing such mirth among the female students. A quick detour into a unisex bathroom settled that.
But as he emerged from the bathroom, into a group of female students, he received odd glances, some quizzical and others amused. Not far off he heard a burst of shrill laughter.
A girl sitting on the ledge of a small wall kicked off a mule and raised a dirty foot in front of him. “You can smell my feet,” she remarked with a mocking grin and a flutter of her eyelids. Her friends laughed.
Mike said nothing, slightly embarrassed by this attention, and continued on his way. He walked at a brisk pace, but as he neared the exit to the girl’s school, he noticed a group of sweaty, soccer players, dirty from practicing on the playing field. As they spotted him, some of the girls began to giggle and talk in hushed tones to themselves, but always eyeing him.
Mike walked away, but they began to turn towards him, as if intent on meeting up with him. He turned his eyes to the ground; he couldn’t bear to look at them. And then the group met up with him and began to file past him. He could feel the stares and hear them talk about him.
“That’s him, right?” said someone. “Yeah, he’s the stinky foot guy,” said someone else. There was laughter.
“Wait,” said one of the girls as he walked away. Mike turned and raised his head.
One of the girls, having removed her cleats, was peeling off one of her socks, and then another. She held one of the scrunched up dirty socks to her nose and made a face. “Boy, are those nasty.”
She then walked over to him in her bare feet and handed him the socks. “Go ahead, take them,” she remarked. “They’re my lucky socks. I always wear them. ” Some of the other girls were holding their noses and waving hands in front of their faces.
Not knowing what to do, Mike accepted them. And even as he held them in his hands, he could smell something faintly cheesy and musty in the air. The girls giggled and tittered.
“She must like him,” said one of the others.
“Well, he is kinda cute,” was the girls reply, as she grinned at Mike and turned to pick up her shoes and join her friends. The girls walked away, leaving Mike to contemplate why her was holding a pair of well-worn athletic socks. Curious, he surreptitiously brought them to his nose, but the vinegary, sour smell was potent and disgusting. He quickly pocketed them, figuring he’d get a change to return them to that girl. She definitely never washed her sweat socks.
As he continued on his way, he spotted a couple of girls who’d apparently been watching him. “He was sniffing them,” said one to the other. “It must be him,” replied the other. They watched him as he walked past, blushing in embarrassment at having been caught.
The following day, Mike attended a sociology lecture in the tiered lecture hall on campus. The class was open to anyone from the other campuses, and oftentimes he’d see girls from the women’s campus sitting in on the lectures. Mike usually sat in back, and on this occasion, a couple of girls came in late and sat directly behind him, even the last three rows were completely unoccupied.
Midway through the lecture, Mike detected an odor: the distinctive and unmistakable odor of unwashed, ripe feet and old sneakers. As he felt something brush against his neck, he turned, noticing that one of the girls was resting her sock feet on the back of his chair, her sock toes clutching the edge of the seat.
“Sorry. My toes,” she explained and continued to give the lecture her undivided attention.
Mike attempted to concentrate on the lecture but the virulent, musty odor of her sock feet was hard to ignore. I thought about asking her to put her feet down but then decided not to.
Before the end of the lecture, there was movement behind him, and whispering. He noticed the girls stand to leave, but then something strange happened. A dirty pair of scrunched-up sweat socks was dropped into his lap; and the girls offered no explanation but for a few giggles as they left. One of the girls was now wearing sneakers without socks.
Realizing that there was writing on the sock, he pulled it open. It read: Amanda. And under her name was a phone number. “If you want to smell the real thing,” it stated. Mike, still perplexed, was lost in thought until the fetid and faintly cheesy odor of the socks hit home. He pocketed them and tried not to think on it.
Later that day, Mike prepared to make his rounds of the college campuses, but approached the girl’s school with some fear and trepidation. He didn’t know what to expect anymore.
He was stapling a flier to a bulletin board in one of the girl’s dorms when an attractive brunette, about 5’8”, slender with long hair tied in a loose ponytail approached him.
“Rumor has it you’re into raunchy foot odor,” she said.
Mike was taken aback by the question. What was she talking about?
She chuckled to herself. “Don’t be embarrassed,” she continued. “I’ve been talking about it with some of my friends and, well, we agree it’s a little strange, but there’s something intriguing about it. I mean, thinking that a guy could be turned on by how smelly our feet are.”
“You must have the wrong guy,” explained Mike.
“Oh, come on now. You can’t fool me.”
“No, really. Stinky feet? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I figured you’d be shy about it. So, if you’d prefer. Let’s just say you don’t like smelling stinky feet. Oh, my name’s Sydney, by the way.” Sydney extended her hand for him to shake.
“Nice to meet you Mike,” she replied, holding his hand a few seconds longer than would be customary in a handshake.
She studied him for a moment and then spoke. “Do you have to rush off anywhere?”
Mike couldn’t take his eyes off this woman. She was gorgeous. But her forwardness discomposed him.
“Well, yes. Ah, no. Not really.”
“I’d like you to meet some friends of mine.”
Mike gave what she’d said about stinky feet not a moment’s thought; he was too taken with her to think of anything else.
En route to the Hideaway, a bar on the girls’ campus, Sydney spotted a couple of her friends. “Megan. Erica. How’s it goin’?”
Megan, a tall girl sporty-looking girl – maybe a volleyball player, and Erica, a more petite Latina wearing jeans and black boots, approached.
“I want you to meet Mike. You know, the flier guy?”
Megan and Erica chuckled to themselves. “Of course,” remarked Erica. “We know. Everyone knows.”
“I was thinking about maybe letting Mike do our feet.”
Megan laughed. “That would be great. My feet stink. They always do when I wear my sneaks.”
“Well, you always wear those shoes,” said Sydney.
“Then I guess my feet always stink,” replied Megan with a chuckle. The other girls laughed.
“Since Mike here loves smelly feet,” continued Sydney, “why don’t we get our feet stinky and have some fun with him?”
“That’s a great idea,” said Erica, beaming. “We could invite some of the girls, pig out on junk food, do each other’s hair and get our stinky toes sniffed and sucked.”
“Well, I’m just glad he likes ’em ripe, because my volleyball friends have stinkier feet than mine. I bet they’d love to get their toes sniffed and licked. Should be a blast.”
“Great. Then we just need to agree upon a time,” said Sydney. “We’ll talk later.”
Megan and Erica continued on their way, chatting amiable to each other.
“Like I said, I’m not into smelly feet,” said Mike.
“Don’t worry about it, Mike,” said Sydney. “We’d genuinely enjoy rubbing our stinky feet in a your face. Really. You’re not putting us out. And trust me, my friends can hold their own in the foot odor department, so I think we could give you a pretty good raunching. Hell, it’s not every day we meet a guy who likes cheesy feet. We have cheesy feet. You like cheesy feet. I think we could all benefit here. Cheer up. You’ll enjoy it.”
Sydney rubbed his head affectionately.
Mike chose to say nothing more on the matter; it would just be misconstrued anyway.
And so Sydney escorted Mike into the bar.
As he entered the bar, there did not appear to be any male students present; and the women gazed at him, surprised that he would even be there in the first place. Mike felt awkward, and began to think of possible excuses to leave; but Sydney was being so sweet and obliging. She occupied a seat at the bar and gestured sweetly for Mike to sit next to her.
After ordering drinks, Sydney entered into a conversation with the female bartender. Mike sipped his beer and glanced about him, conscious that at any given moment someone was eyeing him. He heard whispers and knew they were talking about him. Was he becoming paranoid or was there something to all of this.
“Hey, you’re the guy who likes stinky feet,” asked the bartender.
Mike was dumbstruck for a second before answering. “No. that’s not me.”
“It’s cute. It’s like he’s embarrassed to admit it,” said Sydney. “But I’ve assured him that even though there are many who think him weird, there are plenty of us who’d love to take him up on his offer.”
“I sure would.” Remarked the bartender, a girl by the name of Andrea. I’ve been on my feet all day and I’d love to have them licked. Even having a guy smell them would be kinda kinky and fun.”
“What offer?” asked Mike.
“On the flier, silly,” explained Sydney.
Andrea retrieved a sheet of paper from behind the bar and held it out for Mike. He accepted it.
He couldn’t believe it. Someone had pasted a picture of him on the flier, and the caption read as follows: The Stinky Foot Club, seeking women with smelly, sweaty feet interested in joining. The goal: to advocate the adoration of stinky feet. My promise: to treat your smelly feet as if they were prized possessions. Join my club. Your feet won’t be sorry.
“This is some kind of practical joke,” declared Mike. “I didn’t do this.”
“He’s funny,” remarked Sydney. “He wants us to see the fliers, but he doesn’t want us to think it was his idea. He just wants to reap the benefits though.”
“Loves smelly feet but won’t admit it,” added Andrea.
“This is crazy.”
“You know, you’ve started something interesting. Don’t run from this now that it’s catching on. Everyone’s talking about it. And I think you can get quite a few members. But my question is this: We join, right, and you do what? Lick our feet, suck on our toes, smell them, and rub them? I mean how do you propose to treat our feet as if they were prized possessions?”
“That’s not my flier,” insisted Mike.
Sydney and Andrea laughed to themselves as if he were kidding.
“Really,” insisted Mike. But there was no point.
As one of the other bartender girls came up behind Andrea to pour a beer, Sydney spoke up.
“I was thinking. Since you guys are on your feet all the time. I know you work long hours. How about teaching him how to treat your tootsies like prized possessions.”
Andrea laughed. “Sure. That would fun.” I warn you though. My feet get really smelly. I sweat a lot. So if you’re kidding about liking stinky feet, I’m warning you now.”
“I don’t like stinky feet.”
Andrea and Sydney exchanged laughs as if her was joking again.
“If you really love raunchy foot odor,” said another girl sitting at the bar. “I’d suggest you come home with me and my friends. You want to get raunched? We’re the ones to do it. And if you want to know, my socks pretty much stand up by themselves when I take them off.”
Mike turned to the girl. She was broad shouldered girl, perhaps a swimmer, with an intense expression. She leered at Mike before extending a sneaker-covered foot. It was a ratty old Adidas shoe, and he could already smell how rancid it was. He turned away.
“My friends and I would love to join you club. And you could treat our feet as prized possessions by smelling them. If you have the balls. We’d be impressed if you could handle our feet.”
“Oh, that would be great,” said Sydney. She turned to Mike. “Why don’t you go home with them. This is your chance. You get a reputation for being able to handle their stinking feet, everyone’ll be impressed.”
Another solidly built girl wearing Dock Martens without socks approached the other girl. “What’s going on.”
“This guy might be smelling our feet.”
The new girl laughed. “I’d feel sorry for the guy who’d have to sniff our toes.”
“And lick them clean” said the first.
“Even worse. Poor sap.”
“Tell you what. He’s a bit shy. Why don’t we plan on having him over at my dorm tomorrow night? It would be Friday so we could have a late night, and that would give some of us a chance to get our feet good and smelly.
“Sounds good,” replied the first girl. My name’s Audrey and this is Val. So can we, like, rub our feet in his face and make him smell them. I think that would be so cool. He might like stinky feet, but I think our feet might cross the line.”
Mike stood up. “I’ve gotta go.”
Sydney stood up. “Just meet me here at, oh, 8:00, and I’ll take you down to the dorm to meet the girls.” She tuned to the others. “You can meet us here too, and bring some friends if you’d like. And you too Andrea.”
“Can’t wait. I won’t wash my feet tonight.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow, Mike,” said Sydney with a wave.
Mike was, for all intents and purposes, numbed by this series of peculiar events. He shuffled out without so much as saying goodbye to Sydney. He attended class the following day, but chose to spend the night in his dorm room. He didn’t want to leave, even as everyone else poured out of the dorms for the evening’s frolic. And as eight o’clock rolled by, and then nine, he tried to make sense of what had happened the previous two days. But he couldn’t.
At ten thirty there was a knock at the door. Mike hesitated; should he even answer it? His full name was on the flier and it would be easy for any of the girls to trace him to his dorm room. He decided to sit still.
There was another knock and then he noticed the door handle turn. Had he locked the door? He didn’t remember locking it.
And the door opened a tinge.
Sydney peered inside. “Mike?”
Mike froze. He was sitting on his bed in the dark watching television. Perhaps it would be too dark for her to notice him.
“What are you doing, Mike? You’re all alone in the dark.” The ceiling light suddenly cast a bright light over the room, temporarily blinding him. Squinting, he noticed Sydney closing the front door behind her and pacing about the room.
“You have a cute place.” She lingered in front of a poster of a bathing suit clad woman leaning against a sports car, before turning to him with a smile.
“What happened to you? We were waiting for at least an hour and a half.”
“Look. I’m not into feet, alright?”
Sydney took a seat on his bed and looked him in the eye. “I know you’re shy about it. You couldn’t ask a girl, so you put up the fliers, hoping the girls’d come to you. But you have to make a little effort. You can’t run away just when your fantasy is about to become reality.”
“I didn’t do those fliers. Someone’s playing a joke.”
Sydney shook her head.
“Perhaps you want me to take a firm hand here, so I’m going to insist you do our feet. I figured you were just afraid, so I took the liberty of inviting the girls down here. In fact, Erica, Megan and Paige are just outside. Wait a sec.”
Sydney turned to the door. “Come on in,” she yelled. “It’s alright.” The door opened and the girls, in mid-conversation about something, entered.
“Oh, hi Mike,” said Erica with a grin as she locked the door behind her. “You should lock your door.”
The girls, all smiles, buoyantly hopped over to the bed where Sydney and Mike were sitting.
“Please. I’d rather be alone,” said Mike. He retreated from Megan and Paige who’d already thrown themselves onto the bed.
“Didn’t I tell you he’d say that,” said Sydney with a giggle.
“We’re just going to have to take a firm hand with you,” said Erica standing nearby. “No more excuses. You owe it to yourself.”
“Come on,” said Megan. “Our feet are pretty ripe, and we’ll let you smell them and lick them.
“I think he wants us to be forceful,” said Sydney.
Megan grinned. “You mean make him smell our feet.”
“Well, make him do what he wants to do anyway.”
Mike leapt from the bed. “I don’t want to do this.”
But Megan grabbed hold of a leg, sending him crashing to the floor. The girls, all giggles, quickly piled on top of him. Mike was determined to get free, but there was too much weight on him.
There was a knock at the door. Mike could hear a group of women outside talking and laughing.
Sydney jumped to her feet. “That must be the others.” She raced to the door and opened it.
The girls poured in. Andrea, the bartender, her friend Melissa, the athletic girls from the bar – Audrey, Val – along with a couple of Megan’s tall volleyball friends: Samantha and Lily.
Noticing Erica, Megan and Paige struggling to hold Mike down, Andrea grinned. “Starting without us?”
“What are you waiting for?” exclaimed a frustrated Erica. “Help us.”
The new arrivals rushed to the rescue, grabbing hold of his arms and legs, and holding him taut.
“What’s going on?” asked Melissa.
“Oh, we realized that Mike needs us to be a little more aggressive,” explained Sydney. “He loves stinky feet but he won’t admit it. And I think the only way he’ll allow himself to enjoy his love smelly, sweaty feet is to have them thrust upon him.”
Audrey chuckled. “That’s more fun anyway. We did that once to this guy who’d been pestering Viv. We stripped him and made him smell our feet. He left us alone after that.”
“Let’s take his clothes off too,” suggested Paige.
The others echoed their agreement and giggled.
“Perhaps that might help him relax a bit before he does our feet,” said Sydney.
“Sure. Let’s take his clothes off, and then we’ll tie him up near the bed.”
“I have some rope and stuff in the car,” said Megan, who jumped up off Mike’s chest and ran from the room.
The remaining nine women threw themselves into the task of denuding Mike. He struggled but to no avail. Audrey and her athletic friends were rough and quickly slipped off his pants. Within seconds, he was naked; and the girls were laughing as they held him down, spread-eagle. Mike had never felt this vulnerable.
There was a sound at the door and Megan rushed in with some rope. “Got it.”
Out of breath from having struggled with Mike, the girls began to apply the rope to his arms and legs. “I found this in my car,” said Megan holding up a soiled sweat sock for the others to see. “It’s all crusty.” The others made faces.
“It’ll make the perfect gag,” she said as she began to stuff it into Mike’s mouth. The fiercely stale and pungent taste of the socks was enough to make him gag; but he couldn’t spit it out. One of the others had already stretched some duct tape over his mouth to hold the raunchy old sock in place.
“This is such a blast,” said Erica who was winding the rope around his feet. “I think I’m going to like this club.” The others laughed.
“So who wants to get their toes sniffed first?” asked. “You’d better save me ’till last,” said Audrey. “My feet’ll knock him out,” she added as she pressed a sneaker-covered foot against his cheek. Mike could already smell the heady stench of rotting sneaker, and turned away.
“You’re right. I can smell them too,” said Erica, holding her nose.
“Just wait until I unleash the dogs,” said Audrey. The others laughed.
“I’ll go,” said Paige, excitedly stepping over Mike and straddling him. She cradled his head with her high-tops and held his head up with them.
“So we’ve got to make you sniff and lick our smelly feet, huh?” she said with a smile. “Alright.”
Paige quickly pried off her high-tops with her feet, and then held her dirty, sweaty sock feet over his face, just long enough for him to see the dirty toe print on the bottoms, before pressing them onto his face.
“Oooh,” declared Paige, wrinkling her nose. “Those reek.”
The other girls laughed and some held their noses.
The full nauseating stench of unwashed sweat socks had already penetrated Mike’s nose. He couldn’t believe that this girl had just taken off her sneakers and started to rub her damp, dirty sock feet all over his face, occasionally grabbing at his nose with her stinky sock toes. It was humiliating, having ripe, sweaty feet rubbed in his face like this. He didn’t want to smell them but, being gagged, he had no choice. She pressed the ball of her foot against his nostril and wrapped her toes over his nose; and what else could he do but inhale the sour-sweet aroma of her soiled sweatsocks?
Mike had tried to shake her feet off, but Erica had already slid her booted feet on either side of his head to steady it. Besides, Paige had strong toes which easily grabbed and manipulated his face.
Paige quickly peeled off her damp socks and then began to let her pungent, Cheddar-smelling toes play over his face. She had strong, agile toes which mastered his face, clutched at his nose and wiggled against his nostrils. But judging from the gamy odor of her toes, Paige hadn’t washed her feet in days; and her feet had accumulated days of sweat. She was a sporty, agile girl who clearly got her feet pretty sweaty.
But what Mike couldn’t understand was how this girl could so casually rub such funky-smelling feet in his face as if it were just good fun.
“Your feet smell awful,” remarked Sydney. “I bet he’s loving it.”
“Now time to have you lick them,” declared Paige. As quickly as she yanked the tape from his mouth and retrieved the sock, she slid her dirty, sweaty toes into his mouth, wiggling them as if in search for Mike’s tongue.
“Those look really sweaty,” said Megan. “Bet he loves sucking on those.”
“Well they should be sweaty,” said Paige. “I’ve been wearing them all day for the last four days with the same socks.” She then grabbed one of her dirty socks and dropped it on his face. With her other foot she pressed the toe end of the sock over his nose. Sharp and cheesy odors wafted into his nose while unwashed toes squirmed inside his mouth.
Her toenails were dirty and her toes were caked with sweat, and now she was expecting him to suck on her feet? He wanted to spit them out but she was too aggressive; she just pushed her toes into his mouth and held them there. Whether he wanted to or not, his tongue played over the tough skin on the ball of her foot and over and between her grubby toes.
Mike tasted the tart, salty tang of her foot sweat as she wiggled her toes inside his mouth.
“Suck on my sweaty toes, Mike” insisted Paige with a giggle. He did just that; and when she pressed the ball of her stinky foot over his mouth, he licked and sucked on the hardened flesh. Every inch of her feet, including her rough heels, tasted sour and salty. For Mike, licking her feet was even more degrading than sniffing them.
And then Erica occupied the seat. She kicked off her ankle length boots and then revealed her hosed feet, the pantyhose clinging to the crevices of her sweaty feet like film. And the smell hit him, a sharp, pungent, vinegary scent, of nylons worn for too many consecutive days.
Erica smiled as she pressed her damp, hot nylon-covered feet onto his face and then curled her toes about his nose. The pungent stink of sweaty pantyhose filled his senses; and as she brushed the sour-smelling bottom of her foot against his nostrils, he was inhaling nothing but her sickening foot odor.
“There are two great words that come to mind now,” said Erica as she let her ripe, sweaty feet slide over his face. “Raunching. Isn’t that when you force a guy to smell your feet?”
“Sure. Forced foot smelling,” answered Audrey with a grin. “And don’t forget there’s a gang bang raunching when you and a bunch of your friends make a guy smell everyone’s nasty feet.”
“I’ve also heard the expression ‘getting cheesed’,” added Viv.
“And when you get your toes sucked, that’s ‘shrimping’,” maintained Sydney. “But when you have a guy suck on all your toes at once, that’s ‘jumbo shrimping.” The laughter continued.
“Now I once heard someone talk about giving a guy a Charlie. Isn’t that when you pinch a guy’s nose with your toes?” And, as if to illustrate, Erica slid his nose between her big toe and the second toe, the webbing of her hose over his nose, and then squeezed.
Paige stepped over to Mike. “I’ll show you,” she said.
Erica removed her foot from Mike’s face, and Paige tightly clasped her toes over his nose, clutching at it as if attempted to pull his nose off with her toes. “Now that’s a Charlie.”
“See, now he has to smell my stinky toes.” Mike took a sharp, audible breath and everyone applauded.
“Go ahead, I’m taking my pantyhose off,” said Erica from a corner of the room; and Paige pressed her toes up against his nostrils.
“I don’t think there’s a word for sniffing under toenails, though.”
Paige then pulled her foot from Mike’s face and Erica, giggling, returned her size seven’s, now sans pantyhose, to his face.
And so Mike explored the sour-tasting flesh of Erica’s sweaty bare feet with his tongue. He sucked on her smelly, dirty toes and licked the pungent length of her soles. Erica took especial pleasure in pressing her heels into his mouth and telling him to suck on them. He nibbled the flesh of her heel while Erica gave him a long, smelly Charlie with her other foot. The heady odor of her sweaty toes was still strong.
“How ’bout we let you guys with big feet go next,” suggested Sydney. “That’s more foot to smell and adore.”
Lil, wearing size 11 Converse sneakers, stood up; she must have been about 5’11”. “The bigger the foot, the stronger the smell.”
“Don’t be too sure,” said Melissa who’d been wearing work boots. “I take size 8 and I bet my feet stink to high heaven. I’ve been wearing the same socks all week.”
“Don’t get Mike excited,” said Taylor with a laugh.
Lil grabbed a seat near Mike’s face while Samantha, wearing Puma-style sneakers — size 10 –, took another seat. Both of them placed their sneaker-covered feet on his chest, Lil’s feet squarely on his chest, and Samantha’s crossed, her heels resting on his abdomen. One look at Lil’s sneakers willed him with dread, as it looked like her feet were bursting through the sneakers. They must have been bigger than size 11, and incredibly sweaty because her sneakers looked so tight.
“Are those sneakers big enough?” asked Sydney.
“Well, I should take a size 11 ½,” said Lil. But I’ve had these for ages, and I love them. I only wore ’em because he likes stinky feet, and my feet reek when I wear these.”
“You’re a team player, Lil,” said Paige with a laugh.
Lil then pried off one of her sneakers with the other, and with her soiled sock foot slid it onto his face. She used his chin to remove the other one and placed the other next to the firt; they completely covered his face.
As the potent sweat-sour stench of her damp sweat socks penetrated hi nose, he shuddered. She clasped her sock toes tightly over his nose and ordered him to sniff. He did and could barely stomach the stink of gamy sneakers and foot sweat. Sliding her dirty sock foot into his mouth, up to the ball of her foot, she began to rol the sock down her calf, over her heel, using her toes to stuff it into his mouth. She peeled the other one off and began to slide her solid 11 ½ feet over his face.
“I was worried they wouldn’t smell,” she said with a smile as she slid her long, thick cheesy toes over his nose. Her toes were sour and cheesy smelling, but the scent was strong; all the more humiliating to have to endure as Lil grabbed at his nose and brushed her toes against his nostrils.
“Well, they stink,” said Sydney, “and that’s what matters.” The girls laughed.
Once Lil felt satisfied that Mike had sniffed her cheesy toes and pungent-smelling heels, she retrieved her rank sock from his mouth and ordered him to lick her big feet. And they were large feet, slightly callused along the side of her big toes and on the heels. He worked methodically up form heel to toe, making sure to lick the toejam form between her long, smelly toes.
And as he sucked on Lil’s feet, Samantha kicked off her shoes and pressed one of her moist, begrimed sock feet over his nose. He was greeted to a bouquet of cheesy aroma as Samantha ground her toes over his nose and ordered him to take a long whiff.
While he sucked on one of Lil’s enormous big toes, Samantha compelled him to sniff the pungent stench of her sweat socks and clutched feverishly at his nose. Since Lil’s sour-tasting foot filled his mouth, he had no choice but to breathe in the sharp cheese of Sam’s sock toes.
Once he’d finished cleaning Lil’s feet, Sam had him all to herself. She whisked off her damp socks, dropped them onto his face and scrunched them with her strong, supple, cheesy toes. Kicking the socks away, she began to slide her sweaty bare toes over his nose and made every effort to press them up hard against his nostrils before ordering him to “Smell my stinky toes.” Oh, were her feet ever sweaty and funky-smelling. These girls must have been wearing the same sneakers and socks all week. It was far too potent to be the result of a day or even two days of sweating.
“Look,” said someone. “He’s getting hard.”
Indeed, Mike was getting a hard-on; but why. Being forced to smell and lick their dirty, unwashed feet was humiliating; what was there to enjoy about it? But he was getting hard.
“See. He does like stinky feet,” said Paige
Sam then ordered Mike to lick her dirty, sweaty feet clean. Once again, a complete was going to slide her large, sweaty toes into his mouth and order him to lick the sweat and dirt from them. How had he debased himself like this?
In rapid succession, the other girls took turns humilating him with the stinking, unwashed feet. Andrea slipped off her Doc Martens, which she’d been wearing without socks, and treated him to the full pungent stink of her dirty, sweaty size 9 feet. Then Melissa yanked of her workboots, and worked her dirty, well-worn thick hiking socks into his face. They were cheesy and stale; but nothing compared to her bare, unpedicured size 8’s which she slid under his nostrils so he could inhale the full sour stench of accumulated female foot sweat and moist, moldy-smelling boots.
Viv was next with her ratty and dirty running shoes she’d been wearing without socks. She used his face to pry them off, and then inflicted the full bodied stink of unwashed, sweaty size 8 ½ feet and sneakers. She ordered him to smell her cheesy toes and, in due course, got her hot, dirty, ripe toes sucked on individually and then all at once; eventually getting Mike to scrape her oily, slimy soles clean as well.
Audrey, in her raunchy and visibly deteriorating Adidas sneakers marched over to Mike and rubbed her sneakered feet against his face, teasing him with the powerful, stench of rancid sneaker. She pulled her a sneaker off, and, resting her other foot on his neck, held the foul shoe over his nose and held it there, trapping his nose along with the acrid, foul fumes which had collected inside while Audrey wore them without socks for days on end.
Mike shuddered and tried to shake the shoe off, but Audrey held his head still. “Now that’s a smelly sneaker,” she said. “Just breath it in, inhale the odor. That’s it. Smell my nasty sneaker.” It was cruel, and Audrey and the others loved every minute of inflicting this perverse torture upon him.
“And, look, he’s still got a hard-on,” said Viv. They all laughed. “He’s got it worse than I thought.”
Audrey had him smell her other sneaker before using his face to massage her sore, sweaty, cheesy feet. Her toes playfully grappled with his nose as she had him sniff under her toes and under her nails. It was pungent and stale, and every bit as foul as her sneakers.
And then came Megan who kicked off her dirty tennis shoes and gave Mike another dose of heady, cloying foot odor and salty, sour of foot sweat, bringing us to the beginning of our tale. Megan compelled Mike to lick her size 9 feet clean, and his tongue slid along the full vinegary breadth of her feet, from toe to heel.
Finally, there was Sydney who’d been wearing size 9 ½ loafers without socks. “Ah, finally I can take these off,” she said as she drooped into the chair which had been placed overtop Mike. She pried them off, using Mike’s face and then slid her hot, damp, sour-smelling feet all over his face, letting her toes wiggle under his nostrils for him to sniff.
When ordered to start using his tongue, Mike began with her toes, following her directions and cleaning around and between the cheesy toes before sucking on them and sucking on the touch flesh of the balls of her feet. Finally, she pressed one heel at a time into his mouth and ordered him to “lick my dirty heels clean.” He did just as he was told, and Sydney loved it.
“Well I think it all worked out surprisingly well,” remarked Sydney, her sweaty toes clutching at Mike’s nose and her heel pressed into his mouth. “He’s done a great job of sniffing our stinking feet and cleaning them.” She began to clap, and the other soon followed. But was there mockery in the applause? Mike continued to suck on her dirty heel.
“You scared us there for a bit; we thought our well-laid plans were going to fall through the cracks; but thankfully you left your door open.” Everyone laughed, more derisively than before.
“Well, you’ve just been thoroughly and officially raunched by the Kappa Delta sorority. And we’re keeping your shorts as a memento.” Paige waived his boxers in the air. He others tittered.
“It was so easy. And I’ll I had to do was put together that phony flier.”
“You were a great actor,” said Audrey with a laugh.
“Thanks,” said Sydney. “You were all great.”
The women howled and clapped. “I was just surprised when Audrey actually made him smell her ratty sneaker. I mean they’re falling apart.”
Audrey laughed, waving a sneaker in the air. “When was I going to get a chance like this. I’ve always wanted to make someone smell them.”
“You put the flier together,” asked a stunned Mike from the floor. Sydney still rubbed her sweaty feet over his face.
“Oh, yeah. We chose you because you’re over at our campus all the time. You seemed mild-mannered and sweet.”
“Easy target,” added Audrey.
“We wanted to make some poor sap smell and lick our nasty feet, and we noticed you,” said Paige. “You seemed like such a harmless loser. Now there’s the loser who’s going to smell my stinkin’ feet, I thought.”
“We took your picture, and we did put those fliers up around campus by the way,” said Sydney. “Until they took them down.”
Mike was too shocked to be angry. So they just wanted to humiliate him with their feet all along?
“Oh, shit, I forgot to take pictures,” said Andrea. She rifled through a bag a produced a camera. “We need proof for the other sisters.”
“Get some pictures with our smelly feet on his face,” suggested Paige.
And so the girls, all giggles, took turns sliding their sweaty, dirty feet in Mike’s face, rubbing their pungent odor into shi face one last time. They posed with feet covering his face, or with toes cupped over his nose; some posed with feet thrust into his mouth; and then there were group shots, with the girls sliding their feet over his face at once. Oh, the ungodly combination of ripe, cheesy, stale odors was overwhelming.
All Mike could think about was how these pictures of him were going to be used. Would he be blackmailed or something? I mean, he’d be naked in the pics. And then he noticed he still had a hard-on. How could that be?
“Oh, look,” said Sydney. “He’s hard again. Let’s take a picture of him naked with Audrey’s disgusting sneaker on his face. If we don’t they won’t believe he’d be turned on by the stench of her sneaks.”
The women loved the idea, and to Mike’s dread, Audrey’s foul sneaker was returned to his face, Paige holding it in place. The flash went, and so he was memorialized as the guy who got turned on by Audrey’s rancid, putrid-smelling Adidas sneaks.
“You say anything about this to anyone, we’ll put these pictures of you up over all the campuses.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” replied Mike. He’d be too embarrassed.
The girls gave him a few more stinky Charlie’s before untying his arms and filing outside.
“You were a great sport, Mike,” said Sydney. “This has been a lot of fun for us.”
Mike was delirious; all he could think about was the stink of their feet. The room was full of their foot odor; or was it his face? And so, there it was. Mike was a victim of a twisted practical joke. It was thoroughly degrading, but he had to wonder. Why did he get a hard-on?
This story is taken from:
Special thanks to: Byron