STINKFOOT AND THE LOCKERROOM PRANK
Who is stinkfoot, you might ask? Why, stinkfoot is the stuff that legends are made of. There are many stories circulating about stinkfoot, many of which are probably untrue. But I will make a concerted effort to compile stories about stinkfoot which have been sufficiently corroborated for me to consider them true.
Stinkfoot is a woman of indeterminate age, many place her in her thirties, but, from all accounts, she is somewhere between the age of 25 and 45. But since the stories of stinkfoot’s college years date back ten years or more, she would now be 30 at the very least. her real name may be either Debbie or Miranda; but for the purpose of these stories I’ll use Miranda.
Well, as her name suggests, stinkfoot was the reputed owner of a pair of very smelly feet; legendary not for the foulness of the odor but rather for the overpowering potency of the scent. Some say her feet had acquired their overwhelming stench from excessive sweating; others say that her feet were so smelly because she made every attemot to keep them that way. You see, she became famous, not simply for having malodorous feet but for what she liked to do with her feet. In short, she loved forcing men to sniff her stinky feet, and she encouraged other women to follow her lead. She has been able to exert such a tremendous influence and many women have chosen to follow her lead; though, fortunately for us men, she hasn’t been able to infect most women with her dangerous notions.
According to Stinkfoot, a man’s place is at a woman’s feet; and the male face can serve no better purpose than as a woman’s foot rest. But, for whatever reason, Stinkfoot found no greater satisfaction than in forcing a man to inhale her tremendous foot odor. It wasn’t merely the joy of having a man at her feet, it was the gratification of rubbing her smelly feet over a man’s face, of forcing him to savor something so unpleasant, of hearing him breath in a scent she endeavors to maintain. It was only a matter of time before other women discovered the intense pleasure of forcing men to sniff and lick their sweaty, smelly feet. If Stinkfoot, or Miranda, could have her way, there would be marauding bands of women abducting men and rubbing their smelly feet over their faces. And it has almost come to that; but thankfully, we men can rest assured that our streets our still safe from such a menace. Imagine the state we’d be in if groups of women could intimidate men into sniffing and licking their feet; if women could reduce men to the bootlicking, sweaty-foot-sniffing footslaves that Miranda believes them to be.
Well, let me begin by offering the following account, which I can date back to Stinkfoot’s college years. The story recounts an attempt by Stinkfoot to encourage some of the other female students to have a little fun, at the expense of a fellow male student; as usual, she succeeds.
STINKFOOT AND THE BIKER CHICKS
Another Stinkfoot story comes to me courtesy of the man who was a victim of of one of her pranks. The story takes place, presumably during the end of her college years, or possibly just after her graduation from college. Stories had been circulating at school about how many of the men who crossed her path were subjected to not only her foot stink but those of her willing and often enthusiastic female accomplices. But most of her pranks were legitimzed as customary for pledge week. As part of a rowdy sorority, she’d persuaded some of the local frats to offer up their pledges to her mischievous agenda. And on many occasion, poor freshman boys were delievered to the soroties, stripped by the sisters and held down while co-ed after co-ed rubbed her sweaty, stinky feet over the young men’s faces. The boys were not allowed to leave until they’d thoroughly sniffed the feet of ever giggling sister.
But these activities came but rarely, and Stinkfoot needed diversions for the rest of the year. And she couldn’t rest until she had man’s nose squeezed between her sweaty toes; nothing gave her more pleasure than to run her cheesy toes under a man’s nostrils and to listen to him inhale the odor. During and even after college, she worked part-time at a book store, and it was her fantasy to convert her male co-workers into toe-sniffing and footlicking slaves crawling around on their hands and knees. Nothing would have pleased her more than to have her co-workers dive at her feet for the honor of removing her sneakers and rubbing her moist sock feet on their faces. And as she contemplated how she could use her co-workers to indulge her fetish for forcing men at her feet, the solution cam in the form of a young college grad who repeatedly asked her out only to be repeatedly turned down.
But when the undaunted young man, we’ll call him Paul as I wouldn’t want to reveal his true identity, invited her on a trip to Las Vegas, Miranda Stinkfoot readily agreed. It may have been Spring break or the long vacation that begins after graduation; and Stinkfoot thought that such a trip could offer her some interesting opportunities. She had a friend in Las Vegas who was a member of a female-only biker gang and the women would bike around the desert for hours, sometimes making suggestive remarks to the attractive young men who were traveling alone.
And so Paul and Miranda took off for Las Vegas. And, needless to say, Miranda made a concerted effort to get her feet as stinky as possible before the trip, wearing her raunchy old sneakers, and knowing that she would have to find some way to force Paul to smell and lick off the toejam. She knew her biker friend could persuade her biker buddies to help.
They arrived in Las Vegas, and she raised Paul’s amorous expectations by agreeing to share a room with him. But she insisted upon visiting her Biker friend, Rhonda, or Ronny as she was called. Paul was more than eager to accomodate her wishes and they proceeded accordingly. Ronny, a beautiful and shapely young woman in jeans and boots, opened the door. And Paul was soon standing in the middle of a room of about ten rowdy young women who had just been sharing a few laughs about their biker boyfriends. They stared him over and one of them informed him that no men were allowed during a biker meeting. The welcome was so hostile that Paul feared grievous bodily harm; so he offered to step outside. Miranda assured him that she wouldn’t be long. The women were planning an all-day biking trip after all.
And while Paul sat in the car, Stinkfoot explained what she wanted to do with Paul and asked the other biker women if they’d be willing to help her. One of the women said that they’d gladly hold Paul down while Miranda rubbed her stinky feet in his face. And then another woman asked Miranda if anyone else could get her feet sniffed. Miranda was delighted by the entusiasm. And it didn’t take much to persuade these women to humilate Paul with their stinking feet; and so they hatched a plan, to take place at the end of the day. At Miranda’s promptings, some of them slipped off their socks and put their boots back on. “But our feet are going to stink so bad if we don’t wear socks?” remarked one of the women. “But that’s the whole point,” explained Miranda Stinkfoot. And everyone laughed.
As the women emerged from the house, they set eyes upon Paul, looking innocent and totally ignorant of his fate, and some of the gang members broke into fits of laughter. Someone remarked that she couldn’t wait to get back and kick off her boots. The women couldn’t look at him without thinking of what they were planning for him; and the giggles never stopped.
And so the group took off in their bikes. And Paul had been persuaded to ride on the back of Ronny’s bike while Miranda rode with one of the other bikers. And they rode for hours under the hot Nevada sun and roaming the desert and stopping only for the occasional snack. Paul had no idea that riding on a bike could work up such a sweat; but in the blistering heat, you could sweat sleeping. And Ronny, who had to push the motorcyle pedals with her feet, was doing far more work than Paul. But the women were having a blast, screaming and holloring as they rode in tight formation down the highway.
After a full afternoon of riding and walking, the gang decided to head back to the city for dinner. After six hours of being on the road, all eleven of them poured into the room, exhausted and sweaty. But were the women were not too exhausted to have their fun with Paul, and they positioned themselves for that evening’s festivities. A few of them sat down, remarking on how sore their feet were and how fatigued they were.
And then the gang leader, Raven, spoke up. “So who thinks we should let Miranda and Paul become honorary members of our gang?” There were loud cheers. Paul was surprised that they would be so enthusiastic about making him an honorary member when they’d been so eager to exclude him earlier. But he was flattered. “But honorary members have to be initiated,” explained Raven with a wicked smile. There were stifled giggles as Raven approached Miranda and Paul. When Raven remarked that they would only have time to initate one of them that evening, Miranda, according to plan, promptly excused herself. She encouraged Paul to accept the honor; but Paul, in gentlemanly fashion, was willing to step aside to allow Miranda to receive such an honor. But Miranda was persuasive enough to suggest that it would be a tremendous turn-on for Paul to be a member of a biker gang, even if it were a female gang. Miranda was too insistent for Paul to refuse and so Paul agreed to become a member of their gang.
“Your initiation requires you to reveal remarkable endurance,” added Raven with a grin. “You should endure something you wouldn’t ordinarily endure if you had a choice.” Paul hesitated as Raven sidled up next to him and pressed her things to his. In a whisper she spoke, “would you like us to help?” Paul nodded.
Raven stepped away from him. “We’ve had only one other man become an honorary member; and in the interest of tradition, I think you should endure what he had to endure.” there were resounding cheers and whistles from the audience. Paul was getting nervous. Miranda “Stinkfoot” watched with the satisfaction of a woman who would soon get exactly what she wanted.
“Are you willing to show us how manly you are?” Raven asked, grabbing his crotch to the amusement of the women. “Are you prepared to show us that you’re as manly as him by enduring what he had to endure?” Paul hesitated. Miranda held on to him to suggest that he rise to the challeenge. “Yes, I’ll accept the challenge,” he declared. The biker gang stood up and cheered. And Raven grabbed hold of him by his belt, pulling him to her.
“If you’re man enough, you’ll let us tie your wrists so you won’t back out,” explained Raven. Paul reassured them that he wouldn’t back out but everyone insisted upon this reassurance. Raven vowed not to hurt him, and that he wouldn’t have to endure pain. This was all the reassurance Paul needed and he offered up his wrists.
To the high-pitched howls and squeals of delight, Raven roped his wrists quite expertly and affixed the end to a loop on the ceiling, used for hanging plants. There was enough slack so that Paul could pull away or lay on the floor, but he couldn’t leave the house without first yanking the loop fixture from the ceiling.
Someone pulled on the rope, and Paul’s wrists were pulled up over his head. Then Raven and another gang member pressed themselves against him, caressing his clothed body with their hands.
“Oh, but before we tell you what you have to endure, you’ll have to be stripped naked. All initiates are stripped.” More cheers. “Come one girls, let’s strip him.” And they threw themselves upon him from all sides. “No, please,” pleaded Paul. But the woen were too busy squeezing him, sliding their hands over his legs and torso to notice what he was saying. And Raven unlooped his belt and slid it from his pants. “Let’s get his pants off,” remarked Ronny.
And the women did just that. Paul squirmed and struggled to get some slack on the rope but the women held it tight. And another woman was holding his feet together and tying a rope to them to prevent him from kicking. While several of the others gleefully unbuttoned his pants and slipped them down to his ankles. A few titters preceded the removal of his underpants, and Paul was squirming, with his pants around his ankles, his cock bouncing from thigh to thigh, and his shirt unbuttoned as ten women hollered and laughed at his humiliating predicament.
“And now for the test of endurance,” muttered Raven between giggles. “Bring him to the floor,” she told the others. And the rope fell slack as the biker chicks pulled him to the floor, his wrists and ankles still tied with rope. And retied the rope ends to furniture.
“The test: to smell everyone’s feet,” laughed Raven. Paul squirmed and begged them to let him go, assuring him that he didn’t want the honor of being a member of their gang. But the women held him tightly, and Ronny straddled his chest to prevent him from wriggling away. They had no intention of letting him go. Miranda had explained everything in great detail and described just how much fun it would be to rub their stinky feet on his face. And Paul wasn’t going anywhere until they experienced it.
And while Paul struggled, a heavy chair was brought over him, effectively pinning his body to the floor and preventing him from going anywhere. The position of the chair would make it easy for each of the women to kick back, pull off their boots and rub their warm,sweaty feet in Paul’s face with relative comfort and ease. Two of the women would hold his wrists and ankles, while the others could bring up chairs to watch the show.
“If you can endure the stench of our feet after we’ve been wearing out riding boots all day without socks,” explained Raven “then you’ve proven yourself worthy of joining our gang.” She looked to the others. “Who’s first?” WIthout a remark, one of the prettier bikers – Pam – threw herself onto the chair and placed Paul’s head between her booted feet.
“I want him to do my feet first,” said Pam. Everyone laughed at her eagerness to humilate Paul with raunchy, musty feet. As she slid each foot out of her boots, there were gasps. She was one of the few women who had chosen to keep her socks on, and she held her slightly dirty sock feet over his face, slowly lowering them. Paul turned his head away; and one of the women pulled up a chair and clamped his head securely within her booted feet. Paul was staring at Pam’s sock feet, with the toe imprints, as she wriggled them barely inches above his face.
Pam waved a hand in front of her face and said “my feet smell awful.” Some of the others giggled. “Rub them in his face already,” insisted Ronny. And with that, Pam planted her warm, moist and cheesy-smelling sock feet directly over his face, and began rubbing them around. She clasped her sock covered toes over his nose and told him to start sniffing her feet and sniffing them loud and clear.
The excitement was electric and they couldn’t believe that they were forcing their stinky feet on this guy, and they loved it. And when Pam peeled off one of her damp socks and stuffed it into Paul’s mouth, they cheered. Miranda was impressed that these women took so naturally to dominating a man with their feet; some women didn’t have to be coaxed to make a guy smell their stinky feet.
“I think we should make sure he’s smelling our feet,” Pam, explained. “Now every breath you take,” remarked Raven “you smell what it might be like to be wedged inside our sweaty boots.”
Pam was having a field day rubbing the sock fabric and sweat over his face and clutching his nose with her sweaty toes. And to tell him to smell her sweaty toes and to hear his sudden intake of breath was too much fun. And it wasn’t long before Pam was supplanted by another enthusiastic young woman – Linda -who though the idea of making guys smell our feet “too thrilling.”
Linda hopped onto the seat, kicked of her boots (which she’d been wearing without socks) and to the endless mirth of the others she pressed her hot, damp, fetid feet covered in black flecks of shoe fabric, onto his face. Raven pulled a face, commenting that Linda’s feet stubk to high heaven, and that they smelled faintly of sharp cheddar.
Upon hearing that, Linda promptly told Paul to take a deep breath. And he did. he didn’t have much choice. The others cheereed and laughed as Linda wriggled her sweaty toes just over Paul’s nose and cupped them, forcing him to sniff the ball of her foot. And, like Pam, she joyfully covered Paul’s face with sweat and toejam as she wriggled her sweaty toes over hs entire face, spending most of her time holding the tips of her toes just under his nostrils.
“Smell my feet,” Linda proclaimed. She lay back in her seat with her toes planted formly over his nose and pretended to fall asleep. Everyone laughed as Paul took breath after breath of her raunchy, vinegar-scented foot stink. Linda gave his face an affectionate slap with the sole of her foot as she stepped aside for Raven to take a turn.
“If you thought her feet were foul,” said Raven. “Just wait ’till I take off my boots.” A few others laughed. Linda sat where Raven was sitting, holding Paul’s head firmly between hersweaty feet while Raven tried to pry off her boots. It took a full minute just to pull one foot free and her sweaty foot was barely free before vapor could be seen polluting the air just above Paul’s face. Others gasped and Linda stepped away, commenting on just how atrocoius her feet smelled. “Leather really makes feet sweat doesn’t it,” remarked Raven.
“Now these are stinky feet,” commented Raven as she admired her sweaty foot. She pulled the other boot free and the rush of foot stink must have assaulted Paul’s senses because he was trying to pull his head as far away from her feet as possible. He moaned his potest but the women were too sadistic to let him go without thoroughly sniffing Raven’s rancid-smelling feet. “Close your eyes and you can imagine youself inside my boots.”
“Pee-you. I’ll call them parmesan delight,” added Raven, wrinkling her nose in mock disgust, as she held her sweaty size nine’s above Paul’s face. The soul’s were dirty and flecks of shoe particles dotted the ball of her foot. Raven promptly pressed her foot onto Paul’s face, the ball of her foot just under his nostrils, her toes claping for a toehold on his nose. He struggled, but Linda overcame her distate for the smell by returning to hold his head firmly in her feet.
Raven slid her damp soles back and forth over his face as she playfully rubbed the underside of her dirty toes against his nostrils. “You’re showing remarkable endurance,” remarked Raven. “Now let me hear you breath in my foot odor.” She flexed her toes, luxuriating in the freedom of pressing her sweaty feet onto a man’s face, as Paul took breath after breath of noxious stink, redolent of boot leather and acrid sweat. Everyone else wwere far too amused by Paul’s ordeal, by his trial by stinky foot, to feel sorry for his predicament. Raven was enjoying herself too much and exploring his entire face with her active toes.
She then planted her toes just over his nose as she lay back, her other foot firmly placed over his face, to relax. For a minute or two she used his face to rest her tired, stinky feet; and she remarked that she felt like a queen. “I should have him lick my sweaty feet clean,” she added to everyone’s delight; and she reached over to pull the sock from Paul’s mouth.
Lick them,” sha commanded as she pressed her dirty, sweaty toes over his mouth. Paul, not having much choise in the matter, took her toes into her mouth and sucked on them, licking between her toes to feed on the specks of dirt which had accumulated there. And then she had him suck the dirt and sweat from the ball of her foot; before planting her other foot over his face for the same service, rolling the ball of her foot over his tongue and pressing his tongue between her squirmy toes.
“I can’t believe he’s licking your dirty feet,” remarked Ronny, before pushing Raven from the seat and struggling to pull off her scuffed riding boots. She managed ot free her sweat-soaked feet from her boots and wriggled them over Paul’s face as he moaned to begged to be let go. “Not until you thoroughly snif everyone’s stinky toes,” laughed Raven, now holding Paul’s head between her bare feet, which still reeked of sweat and leather. And, like the women who preceded her, Ronny pressed her hot stinky feet onto Paul’s face and smeared her sweat and toejam over his face, used her sweaty toes to grapple with his nose, told him to smell her feet, her heel, the ball of her foot, under her toes, under her toenail and to savor the stench. “Now you know what my poor socks have to go through whenever I wear my old riding boots,” remarked Ronny gleefully. “His face make a good foot sweat wipe,” added someone else. Everyone laughed. “Pretty nasty, huh,” said Ronny with a smirk. Paul groaned in agreement; but he could do nothing as Ronny slid her sweaty, dirty bare feet back and forth over his face, and playing footsies with his nose. He stench was redolent of stale cheese and old leather.
And then one after another, the women occupied the hot seat, slid off their boots and revelled inthe freedom of forcing a man to sniff their stinky, cheesy-smelling feet; and two of them with particularly dirty feet from having worn old boots without socks, insisted that Paul clean their soles and between their toes. “It’s amazing,” remarked one of them “how much dirt accumulates between the toes, if you wear these boots without socks all day.” And Paul had to lap it all up. While he sucked on one woman’s toes, another women, holding his head still with her feet, would extend her toes over his nose for him to sniff. And from time to time, there would be two women smearing their sweaty, musty, vinegar-smelling feet all over his face.
And when Miranda finally took her place in the seat, she grinned at Paul and told him to prepare for the ultimate feat of endurance. Miranda had been wearing a pair of funky old work boots all day (not to mention the previous day) and when she kicked them off, the potency of the odor enveloped the entire room within seconds and the women were groaning from the strength of the fruity, earthy, cheesy aroma of Miranda’s toes. “Those are atrocious,” remarked Raven who held a hand over her nose.
Paul attempted to slip from under the chair; but it was poitnless. And soon, miranda was entusiastically smearing her foot sweat into his face and pressing his nose in between her sweaty, dirty toes. “breath it in, but don’t faint,” remarked Miranda. “I think he will faint,” added Ronny. Paul sniffed under Sintfoot’s toenails, between her toes, under her toes, and over the ball of her foot and her heel. And she cupped her toes over his nose and everyone was quiet as they listened to Paul’s painful effort at inhale such a aggressive foot odor.
Miranda had been waiting for days to finally subject poor Paul to her foot stink, and now she could have him sniff her toes as much as she wanted. She wasn’t about to give up her seat to anybody. And after ten minutes of thorough sniffing, her toes cupped over his nose, Paul was then expected to clean the speecs of shoe dirt from the ball of er foot and from between her toes. The women always got a kick out of watching Paul extend his tongue between someone’s toes to feed on toejam.
“We should get more honorary members,” said Pam. “This is just too much fun.” EVeryone agreed, and later thanked Miranda for the wonderful suggestion and for making their evening so memorable. When Miranda explained to them how she wanted to subject more men to her foot stink, the biker sisters wished her the best of luck; and assured her that anytime she wanted to bring a guy around for a little humiliation, not to forget them. WIth or without her, they were determined to subject some more guys to this cruel brand of initiation. “We’ll strip ’em and make ’em do our stinky feet,” promised Raven. Miranda had acquired more recruits eager to help turn more men into toe-sniffing foot slaves.
“If I’d known this was going to be so much fun, I would have tried to make me feet smellier,” remarked Pam. Pam then persuaded Miranda to move aside so that she could get her smelly feet liked clean; and everyone else who didn’t get their dirty feet sucked on, then took turns dipping their toes into Paul’s mouth and having him clean between their toes. “It feels so good,” remarked a few of them as they got their sweaty toes licked.
And when the women finally let Paul go, Miranda and Ronny had to prop him up. “Looks like our stinky feet knocked the wind out of him,” laughed Raven. Raven then gave him his clothes, and congratulated him on passing the test. They retained his underpants as a memento of the experience; but gave him a badge which all of the wore on their biker jackets.
Paul had nothing to say as Miranda led him out to the car. He was stunned and had to be reminded that he’d actually spent hours sniffing really foul-smelling feet. But when Miranda told Paul how much it excited her to rub her feet in his face, Paul was quite forgiving. He merely wanted to please her and all he had to do was let her rub her sweaty feet in his face. And, with some more cajoling, Miranda was able to convince Paul to lay on the floor so she could use his face as a rest for her cheesy feet. And in return for Miranda’s further attention, Paul would grovel at her feet and sniff her toes loudly enough for her to hear. And for a month, Paul and Miranda had an arrangement which satisfied both of them. Granted, Miranda’s foot stink was always overwhelming; but Paul had endured so much already.
But Miranda, or Stinkfoot as she came to be called, had to move on. So many men to dominate with her foot stink, so little time.
STINKFOOT AND THE GIRLS FROM THE DINER
This story comes to me from another one of Stinkfoot’s victims. And it takes place perhaps two years after her graduation from college. Apparently, Stinkfoot was an aspiring actress and she and her friends worked at a local diner to make ends meet. She was busy hustling for work, but she had, by no means, lost her interest in tormenting men with her smelly feet. To press her smelly, damp sock foot onto a man’s face and hear him inhale the fetid aroma was one of life’s little perverse pleasures. And it amused her to think that she spent long hours working up a sweat in her sneakers and saddleshoes.
Her co-workers were all women, including the cooks. After all, it was a knock-off of Hooters and it was advertised as an all-female establishment. All but for the young man, by the name of Mike, who got paid to bust tables and wash dishes. Naturally, it was Mike who would become the victim of Stinkfoot’s rather mischievous sense of humor. And Mike informed me that he agreed to work there only to be close to Miranda “Stinkfoot.” He was smitten, and he was prepared to humiliate himself by washing dirty dishes just to fraternize with her from time to time. Of course, it was also a pleasure to work with so many pretty women
Now Stinkfoot knew that men found her attractive; and she was on to Mike from the moment he signed on as the dishboy. he made every excuse just to share the same ten hour night shift. She knew that he’d do anything to be noticed by her; and she took advantage of his devotions by having him run numerous errands for her, and even steal kitchenware for her.
Mike told me he would have done anything to please her, anything but for what she planned for him. He remembers having to give her footrubs after work; and “I wouldn’t have minded so much if her feet weren’t so goddamn smelly.” He endured the stench, because the nightly footrubs were his only opportunity to speak openly with her. And to be thanked by her for a wonderful massage was very heaven.
Now Stinkfoot had been dating an aspiring inventor at the time; and she’d prevailed upon him to design a foot massage device to soothe her aching feet when she returned from work. The inventor designed just such a device, and did so according to her specifications. She wanted the device to feature a chair for her to sit in, and a pair of boots, attached to a platform, for her to slip her feet into. There would be tiny rollers and nobs attached to the inside of the boots (powered electrically), and there would be two larger holes, next to each other, at the toe ends for ventilation. The holes would open into the space under the platform.
Miranda “Stinkfoot” never explained to him that the chair would be placed at an angle so that the boots would be at more of a vertical towards the top of the machine (so as to take the pressure off her legs and feet). She would lift her feet into the boots and trigger the machine for a mind blowing foot massage. There would be a vertical box behing the boots, as well as a horizontal platform underneath. When the inventor remarked to her that there would be enough space in the machine for a man to fit inside it (legs under the platform, torso in the box behind the boots), she laughed and told him to build it. And he did.
When Mike later met with the inventor of the machine, the inventor told that not once had Miranda ever expected him to step inside it. He didn’t understand why she wanted the box and platform to be so commodious. Mike explained whay just as he would later explain it to me.
Apparently, Miranda Stinkfoot spoke to him one day and asked him for a favor. Ever willing to oblige, Mike agreed to help. She then told him that she had a contraption to give to one of her co-workers and that she needed him to carry it to work. It was a labor of love but Mike made every effort (borrowed a truck, asked some friends to help him) to please her. And he brought the foot massage device to work just before the morning shift. It was positioned in an unused storage room, because she didn’t want anyone to see the surprise.
And then she asked another favor of him. She wanted to see if it was true that a man could fit snugly inside the machine. Assuming that her intentions were innocent, Mike obliged once again, opened the back, slipping his legs under the platform and pressed himself against the front of the box, his face near the ventilation holes for the boots.
And then she told him that if he would let her tie his arms behind his back, he could kiss her. For Mike this was too good to be true, and he placed his arms behind his back for Miranda to tie them up securely. And then she asked him to close his eyes and opon his mouth for the kiss. he did so, and to his surpirse, she stuffed a sour fabric into his mouth; he would later discover this to be a worn sweatsock. He attempted to spit it out in disgust, but Miranda was too quick for him. She pulled some duct tape from behind her and attached it over his mouth. Mike tried to plead with her with his eyes; but Miranda seemed to be hell-bent on doing something wicked.
And then it became clear what the convex handle bar was doing inside the box. One end was affixed to the side near the ventilation holes, and she brought the bar around his head, securing it to the a screw on the other side. With the bar in place, Mike’s head was pressed against the wall of the box. He positioned his head slightly so that his nose protruded into one of the ventilation holes; that way he could breathe. Miranda then tightened the bar util he couldn’t move his head at all. He remembers her reaching into one of the boots with hear hand and tickling his nose with her fingers.
“Perfect,” he heard her exclaim as she closed the box and turned the motor on. “This is going to be good.” The hum of the rollers would drown out his moans of protest. But he could make out her footfalls as she ran from the room.
Not five minutes later, Mike heard some female chatter. He attempted to call attention to his predicament, but he couldn’t moan loud enough to be heard over the machine; and the machine was too sturdy to be moved. He was hoping that someone would notice him, or that Miranda would put an end to her litle practical joke.
And then he heard Miranda speak. “So who wants to try it first,” she asked. “So you have to stick your feet in those boots there?” asked Michelle, one of the waitresses who, like Mirands, was just finishing her shift. “They look tight; won’t our feet get sweaty?” she continued.
“They’ll fit like a glove; they’re really comfy. And don’t worry, there’s ventilation.” He heard Miranda chuckled and then it dawned on him. Miranda was going to make him smell their feet. It was perverse but why else would she position him so that his nose protruded into the ventilation hole near the toe end of the boot?
Then Glenda spoke up. “I’ll try it. God knows I could use it. I’ve been on my feet for twelve hours.” Glenda had been wearing saddle shoes with frilly white socks; and she had indeed been working beyond her typical ten hour shift. “Sorry girls, but you’d better cover your noses,” she remarked with a giggle; and she pried of her shoes. She sat in the seat, and raised her sock feet, positioning one foot into a boot and then the other.
Within seconds, Mike felt a warm, moist fabric brush up against his nose. And then he smelled it. It was a stale, pungent odor of foot sweat and the cloying aroma of old, well-worn saddle shoes. He struggled to pul his noes away from the stench, but he couldn’t move.
I think there’s something in the shoe,” remarked Glenda. “Just betwen my toes and the ball of my foot.”
“Oh, that’s supposed to be there,” responded Miranda with a laugh. “It feels good if you rub your foot against it and if you clench your toes around it.”
Mike felt her moist sock toes tighten around his nose, as he inhaled the scent of her stinky foot. “You’re right,” said Glenda, “it does feel good. And those rollers; I think I’m in heaven.”
Poor Mike was the farthest thing from heaven as he took breath after breath of her fetid foot odor. It was like being trapped inside her saddle shoe while she worked. And if she said she’d been wearing her shoes for two days straight, he wouldn’t have been surprised. her feet positively reeked. But he breathed it in, as she rubbed her foot against his nose, and curled her sock toes about it. He began to feel a bit queasy from inhaling nothing but her foot stink, but he had to stinck it out. For a full fifteen minutes.
The other waitresses were going about their business. But then one of the other waitresses, Angela, wanted to give the machine a try. “Oh, must this come to an end,” pleaded Glenda. They laughed and before long, Mike’s nostrils flooded with fresh air.
This didn’t last long because Angela sat in the machine, slipped off her keds, which she’d been wearing for ten hours without socks and slipped her feet into the boots. “I Hope I’m not going to get athletes foot or something,” asked Angela. “My feet may stink, but they’re clean,” said Glenda.
And then Mike was assailed by a sharp and full-bodied cheese smell. he could feel the warmth of her bare foot as she rubbed the ball of her foot against his nose; and when she clutched his nose with her toes, he could fel just how damp with sweat they were. But the stench was beyond belief.
“Oh, this feels great,” said Glenda, quite gleefully. “But that bump in there feels like a nose.”
“If it is,” responded Glenda who must have been putting her shoes back on before leaving, “I feel awfully sorry for it.” The women laughed hysterically and Angela clutched Mike’s nose with her sweaty, musty smelling toes. “Its the ventilation; all of the air from passes between your toes, though the bump and out the back somewhere,” added Glenda before leaving.
For the span of ten minutes of so, Angela wriggles her bare toes over his nose and rubbed her feet back and forth over the rollers inside the boots. The tight boots made her feet sweat, and Mike could feel the sweat beyond rubbed into his nose and over the part of his face which covered the ventilation hole. Mike could imagine what it must be liked to be trapped inside her funky Keds all day; it was sheer torture, inhaling such a sickly-sweet, fruity smell. And to make it worse, Angela loved rubbing the ball of her sweaty foot over his nose. And he could hear her moan softly whenever she did.
And then Michelle must have returned because she asked Angela is she could have a turn. “I could keep my feet in their all night,” murmered Angela, lost in some kind of reverie. “Mmmn.”
“Yeh, well it’s my turn, and my feet are killing me,” insisted Michelle.
After a few seconds, the musty smell passed and Mike once again breathed fresh air; he took greedy gasps in anticipation of another disagreeable session of foot sniffing.
And then Mike could hear Michelle’s Pumas fall to the floor. And before he could feel the warmth of her sock feet, he could smell her sour foot odor; and once her damp sock foot brushed against his nose, he took a deep breath which almost induced him to gag. It surprised him that his co-workers could have such stinky feet; and Michelle’s were foul.
Mike was surprised to smell fresh air for a moment, and he believed his torment at an end. But Michelle had only removed her socks. And her sweaty bare foot brushed against his nose, as she positioned her foot so as to press her toes over his nose. Mike’s eyes were watering, but he could do nothing to wipe away the tears; all he could do was take breath after breath of Michelle’s bare toes which smelled faintly of Parmesan cheese. He moaned to get her attention, but it was to no avail. She could hear nothing. And her moans suggested that she wouldn’t remove her feet from the boots unless someone asked her to.
And, after ten minutes, which felt like half an hour, Teresa, one of the cooks, spoke to Michelle. “Hey, time’s up, my feet hurt too.” And for a few seonds, Mike enjoyed another spell of fresh air before being besieged by yet another nasty-smelling foot. Teresa had kicked off her sneakers, and peeled off her sweatsocks before slipping her feet into the boots. “Mmmn, I love that lump at the toe end,” she declared, scrunching Mike’s nose between her sweaty toes. Teresa’s feet suggested something animal; they smelled like a mangy dog; it was cruel, but Teresa was oblivious to Mike’s discomfort. Shw wriggled her toes with pleasure as the rollers gently soothed her heel and sole. “Heaven,” she declared.
Mike endured this for ten minutes, when he heard Miranda’s voice again. “You look like you’ve just had an orgasm,” she remarked. Teresa chuckled. “My feet are so happy right now, thanks Miranda. You can leave the massager here anytime.” The manager, a lady by the name of Joclyn, entered the room and asked about the massager. “I hope I get a turn,” she said. “Do I have to go?” said Teresa. Joclyn and Miranda laughed.
Fresh air tickled his nose, before Joclyn’s pedicured feet slid into the boots and pressed against Mike’s nose. The scent was faint; and a welcome relief to Mike who’d been inhaling the most putrid foot stink for upwards of fifty minutes. She playfully grabbed at his nose with her toes, brushed her toes against his noes and squeezed it. “This is fun,” remarked Joclyn. She liked having something for her toes to play with while the rollers pressed against her heel and sole.
And then Miranda politely asked Joclyn if she could ty out the machine. Joclyn stepped away and left Miranda alone with Mike. “Having fun?” she asked him. “Oh, I hope you don’t mind the smell, but we work hard. I think I’ll try it out.”
He could hear her sneakers drop to the floor as she climbed into the seat. Miranda Stinkfoot had been wearing her sneakers withour socks, as usual; and she always wore the same pair. And before long, his senses wer assaulted by the most potent, aggressive foot odor he’d ever had the misfortune to smell. It was the unmistakable smell of stnky feet; but the scent was intensified, and so sharp and vinegary it hurt to sniff. he knew just how smelly her feet were from having to give her footrubs, but he had no intention of sniffing them up close. but Miranda gave him no choice. And her sweaty toes clutched at Mike’s nose and slithered over it, as Mike breathed in the fetid stench.
“And if you try to give me a hard time about this, I’ll tell them about the peep hole into the women’s bathroom, and I’ll tell them you’ve been spying on us.” It wasn’t true, but there was indeed a hole, and the others would have believed him.
“Maybe in future, I’ll have you lick my feet clean after work,” she said. Mike would have laughed at the disgusting suggestion, but he could do nothing but smell the ball of her foot.
He must have been sniffing her putrid, vinegar smelling bare toes for fifteen minutes, while Miranda rubbed her toes over his face as much as possible, before she spoke again. “You know,” she said, “I don’t trust you. You’ll kick and scream he minute I let you out and you’ll try to get me fired, won’t you.” Mike was desperate to defend his honesty, though he probably would have kicked and screamed and tried to get her fired.
“Well, I’m going to make sure this doesn’t blow up in my face, ” she added. “Sorry Mike,” and she slipped her feet from the boots. “I’ll be back,” she exclaimed. Debbie, one of the waitresses from the morning shift took advantage of Miranda’s departure to sample the machine heself; and before long, a warm pair sock foot pressed against his nose; the scent was bearable, but it still angered him that these women should feel free to rub their feet in his face.
And then Mike could hear the sharp, staccato voices of angry women enter the room. “I was scared. I didn’t know what to do,” said Miranda, pretending to be distressed. “But I’m sure he’s been watching everyone through the peephole.” “Goddamn that little pervert,” huffed Joclyn, angrily. “We should report this to the police,” added Joclyn.
And then Miranda remarked that she had to make a confession. “I thought I’d take justice into my own hands; I mean he’d probably get off scott free; he’s, well, in the box.”
Joclyn sounded shocked. “he’s in the box?” Angela was there and Mike heard her say, “in the box, what do you mean?”
Well, you know the object you thought was a nose, well, it was.” There was a stunned silence and hen mike could hear Angela laugh; Joclyn and someone else joined in. “You mean, he’s been smelling our feet the whole time?” said Michelle, who had also joined the conversation. “You’re brilliant, Miranda,” exclaimed Angela.
“I’m sorry Joclyn,” said Miranda, “but I was angry.” “It’s okay,” replied Joclyn. “he deserved it.”
And then Debbie spoke up. “you mean Mike’s smelling my feet as we speak?” This drew a prolonged bout of laughter from everyone present. Debbie got up and then Miranda unlocked he back panel. A few of the women gasped when they saw his head clasped inside the bar. Miranda climbed back into the seat, removed a shoe and slid a foot into the boot. Mike was once again greeted with the characteristic raunch with emanated from Miranda’s sweaty bare feet. “See,” said Miranda, “he’s sniffing my toes right now.” Everyone laughed.
And then it was agreed to that all of the women should be given a chance to torment Mike with their foot stink; after all, he could have been spying on any one of them. Miranda and the others pulled Mike from the machine, but they chose not to untie his hands. Once the sock gag was removed, Mike endeavored to defend himself. He explained that Miranda was lying and that she was the real pervert; but no one listened. He was wasting his breath. Glenda removed one of her funky old socks and stuffed it into Mike’s mouth, to the infinite amusement of everyone present. “Just stuff it,” she proclaimed. More laughter.
They left him tied up until the waitresses from the morning shift finished in the afternoon; he was installed in the machine and subjected to an array of foot odors which rivaled anything he’d been forced to stomach that morning. The women wee having a blast, and they found it supremely satisfying to punish the peeping tom this way. And when Miranda retuend that afternoon to check on Mike’s progress, and to explain to the women on the next shift what had happened, she encouraged everyone to humiliate him for spying on them.
Some of the women from the afternoon/evening shift were inspired enough to punish Mike more apropriately; and with unbridled giggles, several of the women pulled Mike’s pants and underpants down to his ankles. “See how you like being spied on,” remarked one of the women. They called everyone in to gaze at Mike’s humiliation; and from the riotous laughter which ensued, it was obvious that they loved the show. “Nice package,” shrieked one of the girls.
And, later that evening, Mike was attached to the machine and forced to endure the stench which had accumulated from a long day and evening on their feet. Most of them made a point of wearing their shoes without socks just to intensify his punishment. And once again his nostrils were besieged with the most ungodly of foot smells. They gleefully rubbed their toes over his nose and cupped their toes over his nose, imploring him to take deep breaths and to enjoy the musty air.
Everyone loved forcing Mike to smell their feet; and they all believed that the foot stink was a great punishment. before allowing him to leave, Miranda and the women from the night shift who had just arrived that evening, took the opportunity to pull his pants down and make him shuffle about with his pants and underpants about his ankles. The giggling was infectious and glenda remarked that she would now have a hilarious image with which to remember him by.
“We had lots of fun,” said Miranda, “I hope you did.” She untied his hands and removed the sock gag (which was once of many rank socks used to stop his mouth that day)from his mouth and Joclyn, who returned to see him off, told him never again to set foot in their diner. Glenda gave him a swift kick to the rear end, which sent him tumbling to the flor, his pants still around his ankles. Everyone laughed. Too embarassed to say anything, Mike pulled up his pants, and to the tune of high-pitched female laughter, he stepped outsdie and never again set foot in that diner.
Mike has tried to put it behind him; but how can you put something like that behind you? Naturally, he came to me to make a full confession and to help to shed some light on the elusive personality of Miranda Stinkfoot. Unfortunately, we are no wiser than we were to begin with; and Mike never saw her again.
But Mirands Stinkfoot would exert a most pernicious influence upon women. And many a man would fall prey to her wicked sense of humor; moreover, many a man would be forced to smell her foul-smelling toes, the toes which would earn her the name of Stinkfoot.
TRICK OR TREAT SMELL MY FEET
This story comes to me from a fellow named Eric and it may be one of the ealiest recorded stories about Miranda a.k.a. Stinkfoot. It takes place well before Miranda turned frat pledges into foot-sniffing worms for the pleasure of her fellow sorority sisters. And, according to Eric, it takes place in the eighth grade when Miranda couldn’t have been more than thirteen or fourteen years old. It may be Miranda’s first attempt at forcing a boy to smell not only her stinking feet but those of her friends as well. And it’s clear, even from this tale, that Miranda was destined for greatness and to become the stuff of legends.
But enough chatter. Let me tell you what Eric told me. Apparently, Eric had fallen for Miranda, a girl who happened to be the apple of every boy’s eye. She was lovely, even then. And Eric tells me that she was the first girl he ever fell in love with. And despite how unpleasant this experience was at the time, Eric would give anything just to have Miranda’s sweaty feet planted on his face. Eric saw Miranda on occasion and just before Halloween rolled around, he’d worked up the gumption to ask her out. he suggested a film, but Miranda surprised him by asking him if they could go somewhere for more privacy. She was bolder than he’d imagined her to be. Since Eric’s parents would both be away Halloween night, he remarked that Miranda could feel free to visit him then. They aaranged a time to meet and Eric gave her the address.
Well, Hallow’s eve rolls around and Eric is waiting at home, eagerly anticipating Miranda’s arrival, but not having the slightest idea what he might do with her. And while he was contemplating how he might ask her for a kiss, Miranda must have been cooking up a devious scheme which would irreparably alter the life of poor young Eric.
And then the doorbell rang. It must have been her. But when he heard girlish giggling , he figured it must be the trick or treaters making their rounds. He had no candy to give them and decided not to open the door. but something led him to believe that Miranda might be there. Perhaps it was just a hope but he didn’t want to miss out on an opportunity for his first kiss with the cutest girl in school.
Eric peered through the peep hole and spotted Miranda. She was wearing a football helmet, but he could see enough of her face to know it was her. She was sharing a laugh with some of the other girls from class, but he couldn’t imagine what they could have been laughing about. It was dissappointing to think that Miranda would have brought her friends over to visit when he so wanted to see her alone. After all, that’s what Miranda suggested. But Miranda brought Evie, Claudia, Bonnie, Tanya and Annie. And they were all dressed in costume: Miranda as a football player, Evie as a punk rocker, Claudia as a nurse, Bonnie as a witch (isn’t there always?), Tanya as a business woman and Annie as a female construction worker. Miranda rang the doorbell again while Eric pondered whether or not to answer the door. ANd he made the fateful decision to open it. Oh, poor Eric.
“Trick or Treat, Smell my Feet,” roared the girls in unison. “Give me something good to eat.” They giggled as they held out their bags to Eric. Eric hesitated and then Miranda spoke ‘Come on, hand it over, we don’t have all day.”
“I …. don’t have any candy,” replied Eric. He didn’t want to disappoint Miranda, but it was the truth.
“No candy,” replied Mirand witha mischievous grin. “You know what that means,” she added. She turned to the others and remarked, “alright girls.” With high-pitched squeals, the girls crowded around Eric and pulled him inside the house. Miranda slammed the door behind them.
The girls escorted Eric into the living room and held onto him, snickering and giggling almost uncontrollably. And then Miranda, removed her football helmet and stood in front of him.
“Trick or treat, no treat, you get trick. You either give us something good to eat or you smell our feet.” Eric was frightened but he didn’t imagine that Miranda would actually make him smell their feet. The girls giggled at the suggestion and held him tightly as Eric struggled to be free of them.
“I’m sure I could find something to eat,” said Eric.
“It’s too late for that. You made your decision,” she added. She turned to the others and spoke. “well, girls, shall we make him smell our feet?” The others cheered and seemed all to willing to administer the punishment. Miranda turned to Eric and spoke again. “I hope you don’t mind stinky feet; we’ve all had our shoes sneakers on since P.E..” The girls were in hysterics; they were stomping their feet and pulling Eric back and forth, taunting him.
“Please, I’ll get you all the candy you want,” he ventured. But all of his pleading would avail him nothing.
Miranda ignored him and commanded the girls to tie him up. Tanya produced some rope from her trick-or-treat bag while the others pushed Eric to the floor. ERic struggled furiously but six girls were more than match for him. They held him while Tanya and Evie proceeded to tie his ankles together and his wrists together. They then tied him next to the sofa, so that squirm as much as he liked, he couldn’t get away. The laughter was the most humiliating part of the whole ordeal; the most unpleasant part was yet to come.
Once Eric was affixed to the sofa, the girls let go of him and a few of them sat on the sofa. They were chanting “Trick or Treat, Smell my Feet,” while a few of the other girls danced around him and waved their sneaker-clad feet over him. And then Miranda pulled a chair over to him and sat on it.
“Shouldn’t we cover his mouth to make sure he breathes through his nose?,” queried Bonnie. “Well, if you go first,” replied Miranda, “you can put your sock in his mouth.” The girls giggled at this. “Eeew, yuck,” commented Annie while the others pulled faces.
Miranda stood up and Bonnie the little witch sat in the seat. She grinned as she pulled the Keds from her feet and held her sock feet over Eric’s face. She began to lower them but Eric couldn’t move his head. It had been secured between the sofa and an armchair. Bonnie lowered her sock feet until he caught a whiff of momething musty and fetid. Bonnie’s feet stunk and she planted them firmly on his face, much to the delight of the other girls. They cheered as Bonnie rubbed her hot, moist sock feet over his face and implored him to smell her feet. A couple of the others remarked how disgusting this was; and Eric heard the occasional “gross” or “yuck” while Bonnie held her sock feet in his face.
And then she removed her feet from his face and peeled the damp socks from her sweaty feet. She wriggled her toes and grinned, just before telling Eric to open his mouth. She dangled the sock over his face.
Eric refused to open his mouth and so Miranda spoke up. “If you don’t open your mouth, we’ll pull your pants down.” Most of the girls were too shocked to hear this to leaugh; but an isolated giggle could be heard. The girls must have been contemplating whether they could be so mean to him.
But Eric wasn’t going to take any chances. he opened his mouth and let Bonnie shove her damp, slightly soiled sweat sock into his mouth. “That’s so gross,” squirmed Tanya. Everyone laughed when Eric groaned in an attempt to say something. he couldn’t; he could only taste bonnie’s cheesy-smelling sock in his mouth and suck on the sweat from the fabric.
Bonnie promptly returned her sweaty feet to his face and held her toes over his nose. “Smell my feet,” she said with a girlish laugh. She wrigled her toes as Eric breathed in her foot odor, one sniff at a time. He had no choice. “Oooh, it feels nice when he sniffs,” added Bonnie; “it’s cool on my toes.” The other girls were suddenly interested in what this might feel like; to force a boy to snif their stinky toes.
Bonnie was given about five minutes to rub the sweat from her feet onto Eric’s face before Miranda reminded her that they had more trick-or-treating to do. So Bonnie slid her feet off his face and evie took Bonnie’s place. Evie teased him about having to smell her “stinky feet” before pulling off her sneakers and pressing her warm sock feet in Eric’s face. The stench was a shock to the body, and his nostrils filled with the stink of old sneakers and a stale sweaty foot smell. The girls giggled again as Evie began to take some pleasure in rubbing her socked feet over his face, and playfully scrunching his nose between her sock toes. She removed her socks and soon began to smear foot sweat all over Eric’s face. The girls still waiting their turns watched with fascination and disgust as Eric breathed in Bonnie’s pungent foot stink. As she wriggled her toes in front of his nose she made the following remark: “it does feel nice when he takes a breath; it’s so cool, I like it.”
Bonnie was having so much fun playing footsies with Eric’s face that Miranda had to insist that she step aside to let the others have a turn. And so Tanya took Evie’s place. “But it’s gross,” remarked Tanya. “My feet stink so bad.” The others found this amusing and insisted that she give it a try. Bonnie and Evie attested to how wonderful it felt to have someone breathe in the warm, musty air from between their toes. With this reassurance, Tanya removed her shoes and the girls immediately reacted to the foul stench which filled the air. “That’s nasty,” said Bonnie. “I’m sitting back here,” remarked Claudia with a giggle as she took a few steps back. “I’m sorry,” apologized Tanya. But she didn’t apologize to Eric as she pressed her gamy sock feet onto his face. When they heard Eric take his first breath, the girls cheered. “Yuck,” said Claudia with obvious disgust.
It wasn’t long before Tanya began to get into it and forget about Eric entirely. She rubbed her feet around his face as the girls began to sing songs from the radio. They contiued to chant “Smell my Feet,” but less often. Tanya peeled off her moist socks and commenced to rub her soft bare feet over his face. Eric remembers her feet as smelling almost as foul as Miranda’s; but there was only one Stinkfoot. The putrid smell of Tanya’s sweaty feet almost began to turn his stomach; but, as with anything, you get used to it. And eric had to accept the fact that come hell or high water, these classmates of his were going to make him smell their stinky feet. And they were loving every minute of this inventive torture.
Tanya’s turn came to an end and then Annie took her place. Annie was wearing hiking boots as part of her costume and she unlaced them to the steady chant of “Smell my Feet.” As she pulled each boot off, she smiled at Eric and then planted her stale-smelling sock feet onto his face. Her sock feet were damp, just like the others; but the smell was different. It wasn’t worse, it was just stronger, and the socks were even more damp. “Have a good whiff,” said Annie. Everyone laughed. The other girls were simply chatting and goofing around as if Eric wasn’t even there.
Five minutes later, Claudia took the seat and pulled off her Keds. She held her hot, steamy sock feet over his face before cupping her sock toes over his nose and commanding him to “smell them good.” The smell was just as putrid as the other feet it was his misfortune to be forced to sniff; and it was redolent of old sneakers and foot sweat. It took all this time for Eric to overcome his shock to find out that girls could smell just as much as boys. he never imagined that girls could have such stinky feet. Claudia rubbed her sock feet in his face and then rrremoved her socks so that she could rub her bare toes over his nose and brush them up over his nostrils. Her toenails were especially cheesy-smelling; and CLaudia, noticing Eric’s nose wrinkle, prolonged his torture by having him snif under her toenails and beetween her toes.
And then the doorbell rang again. Evie lef the room and within minutes, ERic could hear female voices approach the room. “Oh my god, you weren’t kidding,” laughed Monica. When Claudia pulled her feet from his face, he could make out Monica and Lisa, two other girls from his class dressed in costume.
ANd then Miranda spoke. “He didn’t have any candy, so know he has to smell our feet.” “Cool,” responded Monica. “Can I try?” she asked.
Claudia stood up and let Monica sit down. “Oooh,” said Monica “I’ve been wearing these shoes without socks, they probably really stink. Maybe I shouldn’t.” But Miranda reassured her by explaining that they all had stinky feet and that that was part of the fun.
Monica grinned and kicked off her shoes. Everone backed away as she held her slightly dirty and extraordinarily foul-smelling feet over his face and pressd them over his nose. She cupped her bare toes over his nose and when Eric took his first breath, the girls cheered again.
Doesn’t it feel nice when he breathes through your toes?” asked Tanya. Eric took a breathe; and when he did, Monica sensuosly wriggled her toes. “it does, it’s kinda cool.” Eric remembers her feet smelling thoroughly cheesy and that the ball of ehr foot was too rank for words. She held her toes over his nose and cupped them there so he had ample opportunity to become familiar with how the ball of her feet smelled. And, unlike the other girls, Monica took the liberty of holding her heel over his nose; and she surprised even Miranda, when, with a miscievous smrik, she picked up her Dock Marten and held it over his nose. Eric could now imagine just how foul it would smell to be trapped inside Monica’s shoe; and he’d seen her wearing these shoes practically every day to school. The others were laughing so hard it hurt; within seconds, several others took off their shoes again and took turns holding them over Erik’s nose to make sure he got a good whiff or two. The smell of the old rancid sneakers was beginning to unsettle him; but there was nothing he could do but endure it.
Thankfully, Miranda called an end to the pandemonium by asking Lisa to take a turn. She did and pulled off her sneakers. He noticed that, unlike the others, Lisa had painted her nails, but the paint was chipping off. Her socks feet were damp and pungent; but her bare toes gave off the cheesiest smell. She rubbed her toes over his nose and giggled that poor Eric had to endure such stinky, cheesy toes. He remembers being revolted by the smell from under her toenails.
Before long, Miranda prepared for her turn. As usual, Miranda wore no socks with her old sneakers which were falling apart. Eric never remembered seeing her wear socks, not even for P.E. She smiled at Eric and told him to get ready. Eric hear her shoes drop to the floor and then his nose was assaulted by the most foul foot stink he’d ever encountered. It wasn’t an unclean smell, it was just potent. her feet smelled as foul as everyone else’s; but it was the smell turned up in volume. And his nostrils shuddered at the prospect of sniffing her feet.
Miranda presented him with her sweaty, slightly dirty souls which featured little specks of black dirt from the sneakers. She wriggled her toes which glistened with sweat and pressed them over his nose. She grabbed and clutched at his nose as if endeavoring to get a good toehold. And then she did. She forced him to sniff the cheesy odor of one set of toes while she rubbed her other foot all over his face.
The other girls were beside themselves from the smell and they’d backed away quite considerably. “They really stink,” asserted Tanya. “Yeah, you’re one to speak,” replied Miranda. Miranda was enjoying this more than the others; and she rubbed her feet all over his face making sure that hs sniffed between her toes and under her toenails in addition to her heels and the ball of her feet. She finished by supping her sweaty feet over his face while Eric took breath after unendurable breath of her heady foot stink.
Miranda commited the final insult by forcing him to wear her old shoes on his face; and he’d never imagined that a girl’s shoe could be so revolting to smell.
Once the girls had their fun tey began to untie him. But Miranda stopped them. She wanted a trophy of their visit so that she’d never forget. She wanted to take his pants home with her. The others laughed and Tany said “seriously” Some of the girls were hesitant about doing that, but enough of them thought it would be a great way to cap off the experience.
Eric was shocked that eight of his female classmates were going to see him in his underpants, and he struggled. But they laughed as several of them knelt down and began to unfasten his pants. The other girls who had misgivings about it watched the procedure intently, wondering what they might uncover. His fly was unzipped and the girls tugged his pants down. he could hear some of the girls gasp with surprise that they were seeing a boy in his briefs. Eight pairs of eyes were trained upon his crotch, as the girls untied his ankes and slid his pants off.
Claudia gave Miranda Eric’s pants and broke into a fit of laughter. The others followe suit as they stood up and looked at him. Eric’s hands were freed and he quikly removed Bonnie’s old sock form his mouth. he dropped it to the floor and bonnie retirieved it with a giggle. “How did it taste,” she asked. Eric said nothing. He didn’t know what to say.
This will teach you to have candy next time,’ said Miranda “And if you tell the other boys, we’ll do this to you again and again; and we’ll get some of the ninth grade girls to help us. ” Eric was too humiliated to think of telling the boys; and he would keep it a secret until he told me.
Once Miranda finished speaking to him, she turned to leave. And the girls followed Miranda from the house. She waved his pants about and when Eric ran to the door in his shirt and underpants, he could still see Miranda waving his pants around whie the other girls followed giggling and singing “Trick or Treat, Smell my Feet.”
Eric doesn’t know if any of the other boys had to smell their feet that night; but we’ll have to leave that to conjecture. But we do know what happened to Eric. And we can only be thankful that when we ere thirteen we never had to learn the hard way just how stinky girls’ feet can be. In telling me the story, Eric added that he’d never known women to have feet that smelled as much as the feet of those thirteen/fourteen year old girls. And, if you’re out there Miranda, Eric would be all too hapy to let you rub your stinking feet on his face. He’d never fallen out of love with her; but he would never approach her for a date again.
Definitions – to raunch: to subject another to the odors of the body / raunched: to have been subjected to another’s body odors / A raunching : an occasion by which a person is subjected to the body odors of another or of others / raunched by feet: to have been compelled to smell another person’s feet.
I’ve made mention of Stinkfoot’s sorority experiences, but I’ve told you nothing so far. I’ve only hinted at wild goings-on. Well, it’s about time I told you more about Miranda Stinkfoot’s sorority experience; after all, Stinkfoot acquired her nickname from her fellow sorority sisters. A legend came into being once Miranda joined the Alpha Phi’s.
I’ve turned to a different source for this information: a fellow Alpha Phi who has offered me much insight into what makes Stinkfoot tick. She — lets call her Beth — first recalled meeting Miranda as a freshman under some very bizarre circumstances. It had been the practice of the Alpha Phi’s to make much mischief in the early morning hours. On a fairly regular basis, the girls would lure an unwitting young man into the freshman girl’s dormitory where they would corner him, strip him naked and tie him up near he front entrance way, often with the assistance of the house R.A.’s who figured there wasn’t any harm in the practice. When the girls returned from their social activities, they would invariably find a naked male student tied up, his naughty bits on full view. The girls loved it, and often looked forward to an evening when they could see their male classmates in the nude and on display.
At the time, Miranda was a freshman and she thoroughly enjoyed the practice. But Miranda did more than ogle and tease the boys; she took advantage of their helplessness in a very unusual way. Beth was returning to the girl’s dorm late one evening to untie the poor victim of the Alpha Phi shenanigan’s when she found several girls sitting around him. They’d pulled him onto the floor; and when Beth walked up to them, she noticed that the girls were barefoot and that one of the girls was rubbing her slightly dirty feet in the young man’s face. The young man was blindfolded.
“What’s going on here,” inquired Beth.
The girl who had been using the boys face to massage her feet turned to Beth and grinned. “He’s smelling my feet,” she explained. She seemed rather pleased with herself.
One of the other girls then turned to Beth and spoke. “Miranda does this to all of the guys you tie up here. She gets her feet really stinky and then she makes the guys smell her feet. We thought it was fun to watch until she wanted us to join in. So whenever there’s a guy here we come downstairs and rub our sweaty feet in his face.”
Beth was astounded; she’d never heard of such a thing. “How long has this been going on?” she asked. “Oh, ever since the beginning of September,” replied the other girl.” it was January at the time, and Beth couldn’t believe that this had been happening under her nose. “Miranda says this is the fourteenth guy whose had to sniff her stinky feet. And her feet are totally rank. Have a whiff.” And the girl held up one of Miranda’s feet.
Beth wrinkled her nose and declined the offer. But she was amused by the situation> “Forced foot sniffing,” mused Beth out loud. “Now why hadn’t we thought of that.”
The other girl spoke up again. “We also get them to lick our feet clean. It’s so disgusting it’s hilarious.”
Then Beth turned to Miranda who had been giving the young man’s face her undivided attention, sliding her toes about and squeezing his nose with them. “Have you thought of pledging a sorority,” asked Beth. Miranda said “yes.” “Well pledge Alpha Phi then,” added Beth. “We could use women like you. I think you’d enjoy what we do; and it seems like you have some fiendish ideas. We like to give frat pledges hell, and perhaps with you on board, we might have them smelling our feet on top of all the other things we do to humiliate them.”
“Count me in,” said Miranda. “I’m sure I’d have plenty of ideas.”
Beth said goodbye, and Miranda turned to the young man, ordering him to smell her feet. “Just untie him when you’re finished,” said Beth before she left. Beth laughed all the way home.
Beth would meet Miranda again when Miranda pledged Alpha Phi; and soon enough, Miranda made herself quite popular with the other Alpha Phi’s. They liked her spirit and they soon took her out on their frolics through campus. And whenever the girls planned on humiliating another young man at the girls’ dorm, Miranda was there. And Miranda would always force the young men to sniff and lick her feet. Even at this early date, Beth remembers how Miranda was teased about how much her feet smelled and how she wore gnarly old tennis shoes barefoot. But they loved to watch as Miranda subjected the young men to her foot stink. They loved to watch the young men convulse form the overwhelming stench of toe cheese and how they struggled in vain while Miranda rubbed her foot sweat into their faces. Before Miranda’s sophomore year, An Alpha Phi by the name of Margot called Miranda “stinkfoot,” and the name stuck ever since.
Well, we come to a more crucial part in our story, a part which takes place during Miranda’s second year at school. Pledge week was coming up and the girls were eagerly anticipating the new batch of frat pledges. They loved humiliating them, stripping them and spanking them; but Miranda’s involvement changed everything. The girls adopted Miranda’s ideas and what they planned would be radically different from anything they’d planned before. But let me not tell you about the first pledge week under Miranda’s guidance; rather, let’s jump ahead a year or so when Miranda’s changes had been fully instituted, as it were. Let’s jump ahead to a time when frat boys to be feared pledge week even more than before. With Miranda Stinkfoot as an Alpha Phi, Greek life would never again be the same.
And so let us visit the sorority house during pledge week, when Miranda was either a junior or a senior at college. Beth has been most informative about that happened and how it worked; so let me tell you what she told me.
The frightened frat pledges (on this occasion, there were eight young men) were brought into the sorority living room at 3 or 4 in the afternoon, in front of the twenty or so sorority sisters. At this time, the Alphi Phi president (and let’s just say it was Miranda because she did become sorority president as a senior) spoke to the new recruits. The new members had been put through their paces by the frat boys, and they were eager for revenge.
“These boys stand before us because they want the singular honor of joining a frat. Well, it is our duty to make this difficult for them, to separate the boys from the men. Without our seal of approval, these boys will never join the lofty ranks of frathood. We are going to humiliate these boys, and we are going to have fun doing it. And if they want our recommendations, they’d better let us have our fun. How are we going to have our fun? Well ,we are going to give them the raunching of their lives. What’s a raunching you ask? Well, a raunching is when we get to force these boys to sniff and lick our stinkiest body parts. We are going to shame them with our body odors.”
At this point, some of the girls giggle and Miranda would continue. “We are going to send these boys, one by one, behind the door there. And behind that door, the new recruits, all six of you, are going to receive them. And you’re going to strip them naked.” More giggles.
“You will send the naked boys back into the living room where the rest of us will find a place to tie them up. We will lay them on the floor and tie them up in various strategic positions. Because we have a party scheduled, a woman only party; and most of our guests are coming because we have naked boys sprawled out on the floor, near the chairs and sofas. Why do we tie them to the floor? We tie them up so they won’t run away when we raunch them. And we tie them to the floor so that it will be easier to rub our smelly body parts in their faces. These boys are here to smell and lick feet, armpits, and other more private areas; and they will have to sniff and lick anything that has come in contact with these body parts: socks, panties, etc.”
“Most importantly, we are here to raunch them with our smelly feet. I hope you’ve all made an effort to get your feet really smelly.” Some of the girls laugh, and several nod vigorously. “Who wants to make these boys smell our stinky feet?” A resounding cheer. “And who wants to make these boys lick our sweaty feet clean?” Another resounding cheer. “Who wants to make these boys lick our armpits?” “Who wants to sit on their faces?” More cheering. “Well, if you’re all ready, let the raunching begin. Girls, take your places.”
Six of the young women, all smiles and conspiratorial glances, marched into the adjoining room. Miranda then grabs one of the boys by the arm and leads him to the door. “Are you ready to strip the boys?” Muffled cheers of assent. “Alright then, here comes number one.” With that, Miranda opens the door and throws the first pledge inside. As Beth describes it, we would then hear a loud thud and the occasional bang, accompanied by almost hysterical succession of giggles and squeals. After about thirty seconds, the door opens and one of the girls pushes the boy outside the her foot. The young man is naked as the day he was born; and the sisters in the living room then begin to taunt him with screams and suggestive remarks. He’s grabbed, squeezed, pinched and slapped as he is pulled over to one of the designated spots. Several sisters will then begin to attach his wrists and ankles together with rope, and then tie him to chair legs until he’s tightly secured and laying flat on his back.
Miranda then sends the other girls the next young man; and the boys are stripped, one by one, and then sent into the main room where they are ridiculed, grabbed and affixed to one of the remaining designated spots. The preparations conclude only when the eight young men are naked and tied up. The new recruits then emerge from the other room, some of them gleefully waving boxer shorts, to begin the next phase of the hazing ritual.
Once again, Miranda speaks to everyone. “Because most of our guests are coming to raunch the boys with their feet, I want to set aside four of the boys for nothing but foot sniffing and licking. The other four will be available for all kinds of raunching.” Miranda then addresses the new members. “Once you decide which four will handle the bulk of the foot smelling and licking, we can then proceed to part two. Part two we have fun.” The girls let up a resounding cheer. “After wearing the same socks for days, wearing ratty old shoes, and doing whatever we could to get our feet sweaty and stinky, it’s about time we got to let ’em have it.” More cheers.
The recruits designate the four foot boys, and then the party officially begins. The music is turned up, and the young women, drinks in hand, occupy seats. There are two or three young women sitting at each pledge, and then shoes begin to fall to the floor. Warm sock feet and stocking feet are placed on the boys faces and the boys squirm all they can until they realize that squirming will avail them nothing. The girls casually chat amongst themselves, treating this as any old get-together. The only difference is that they can subject male classmates to the stench of their musty, cheesy feet. Feet are perched atop faces, toes grapple with noses, and faces are covered in foot sweat.
“Shit, Miranda,” remarked one young woman. “You’re feet stink.” Laughter soon follows as the girls crane their necks to watch as one of the pledges gasps for breath from under Miranda’s foul, sweaty dogs. They watch as Miranda smiles blissfully, cupping her toes over his nose and ordering him to take deep, greedy gasps. No one seems to enjoy doing this more than Miranda, and her feet slither over the boys faces as she reclines in her seat. She eventually slips from seat to seat until she’s subjected all of the young men to her heady foot odor.
But a few words about Miranda’s feet. Beth remembers them, size 9 feet or thereabouts, with slender toes and long slightly dirty soles. There were often flecks of shoe dirt on the soles, and always pieces of shoe dirt wedged between her toes under under her toenails. her feet weren’t unclean, but wearing old sneakers barefoot naturally made her feet appear unclean. Beth remembers who Miranda loved having the pledges clean her feet and feeding them with the accumulated toe jam. She loved to wriggle her toes, and not once would she ever just rest her feet on a guy’s face; if her feet weren’t moving her toes were moving, and she loved to explore the contours of the human face with the tips of her stinky toes. Beth remembers the strength of the odor; it wasn’t a foul smell, it was just potent. it smelled like old sneakers and stinky gym socks, with a faint whiff of cheese and something earthy. Miranda loved to wear her old shoes before pledge week, and she, more than any of the others, made every effort to get her feet as smelly as possible. Beth adds, in response to my probing questions, that Miranda had nicely-shaped feet, which weren’t calloused much, and no rougher than anyone else’s feet. Beth remembers seeing a lot of Miranda’s feet; and so did the pledges.
“AS Beth tells me, the party was always slow to start, but it gave the Alpha Phi’s a chance to monopolize the pledges before the guests arrived. the girls would rub socked feet, and bare feet all over their faces , sometimes requesting that the pledge either take audible sniffs or lick between their toes and the soles of their feet. Sometimes he girls would situation themselves so that they could force the pledges to sniff and lick their armpits. And the girls who weren’t easily embarrassed lowered pants or raised skirts so that they could seat themselves atop the faces of the frat pledges. The young women enjoyed the unalloyed freedom of having their many body odors sniffed and savored.
And then the guests began to arrive: Friends, women from other sororities, and, most importantly, sweaty, athletic girls who came straight from practice to help give the boys a good raunching. On this occasion, girls from the track team bypassed the showers after their 10K; they came to get their sweaty feet sniffed and several of them had gone running without socks just to get their feet as sweaty as possible. The young women enjoyed these events, which happened about twice a year; and there was always a great deal of anticipation. naturally, the young women wanted to get as much out of it as possible, so they came without having showered. They came to get their sweaty body parts licked clean. They came to relish the freedom of rubbing their feet in men’s faces and of having men inhale their rank foot odor.
Girls from the track team arrived and occupied seats around one poor bugger designated as a footboy for the evening. Running shoes were pried off and what emerged were sweaty feet which made themselves at home on the footboy’s face. A variety of sharp vinegar and cheese scents would have assaulted his senses, as they used his face to massage their sore, sweaty feet. The girls would chat amongst themselves as if they were at a cafe somewhere, almost oblivious to the fact that a man was being forced to sniff their toes. But the girls from the track team came to get their feet cleaned; after all, they’d chosen not to take showers. They ordered the footboy to lick the full length of their bare feet, to slip his tongue between their toes, and to suck upon their toes and upon the balls of their feet. To think that they could go for a run and then have a man lick their feet and armpits was a indescribable pleasure.
Girls from the basketball team arrived to receive the very same service. They occupied seats in another part of the room, pried off their sneakers and took turns forcing their footboy to smell their sock feet. Beth remembers seeing some of the girls removing their sweat socks and then rubbing them into the footboy’s face. Sweaty toes, flecked with pieces of white athletic socks, clutched hold of a nose; and the footboy breathed only through the toes perched atop his face. These girls, like the others, talked amongst themselves as they ordinarily would; only the playful rubbing of socks in the footboys face distracted them and make for a more mirthful evening.
Later in the evening, girls from the soccer team arrived after practice, grabbed a footboy of their own and began to torture him with their sweaty sock feet. “I’ve been wearing the same socks for the last five practices,” remarked one of the girls. Others boasted that they’d worn their socks for seven practices in a row. Everyone had gone to great lengths to have smelly feet for the pledges to savor. And the poor pledge came to know each of those pungent sock feet as they brushed over his face and as damp sock toes played with his nose. The air they breathed was filtered through gamy cotton fabric. And the girls were completely at ease with this perverse form of torture. Soon enough, socks were peeled off to reveal stale sweaty feet with dirt between toes which glistened with sweat. And bare feet slid over the footboys face, chest, arms and legs.
Girls from neighboring sororities arrived to get their stinking feet sniffed and licked. Boots and sneakers came off, and sock feet and nylon feet explored faces, torsos, arms and legs. Girls stuffed fetid old socks into mouths and pressed putrid toes upon against nostrils. Toes clutched hold of noses and boys breathed audibly through nylon and cotton. Dirty socks with blackened toe prints were thrown about and dangled in faces. Bare heels were sucked as were toes, some painted, some not. Women slipped toes into mouths, pressed the balls of the feet onto lips and demanded kisses. Armpits were placed over mouths and licked. Women pulled down their panties and sat on faces. “Smell my feet,” yelled someone. “Sniff my ass,” yelled someone else.
Spirits were high as somewhere between forty and fifty college coeds with smelly feet busied themselves with thoroughly raunching the frat pledges. Girls laughed as they rubbed their bare bottoms in the frat pledge faces. The pledges had no choice but to offer their faces as bottom rests and foot rests; and oh, would the girls have a field day getting their stinky old sneakers, crusty socks and pungent feet sniffed. Used panties were stuffed in mouths and pulled over faces. And girls laughed and giggled and made merry like sorority girls will.
But Beth remembers this as an evening when they could get away with rubbing their feet all over guys, as a chance to even stand on a guy and press a smelly foot in his face. It was an evening without limits when girls could just be girls and humiliate men at the same time. Naturally, the evening would conclude when the pledges were untied, bent over in a row and mercilessly paddled by the mischievous co-eds. None of the pledges were going to go home with a Alpha-Phi seal of approval unless their bottoms were beet red. The girls ran the boys around the house, took photos of them and giggled at their bouncy private parts, all before they sent them out of the house holding their clothes to the chests.
For Beth, it wasn’t the humiliations which entertained, so much as the raunching. The evening wasn’t about forced nudity or paddling, nor was it even about licking sweaty armpits or sniffing bare asses; it was about stinky feet and it always would be thanks to Miranda Stinkfoot. The girls came from far and wide and they came with smelly feet, feet which had been encased in boots or running shoes for long periods of time without socks, or feet which had worn the same socks/pantyhose for days. They came with smelly feet because it made getting their feet sniffed and licked far more enjoyable. To see a man wrinkle his nose as stale-smelling toes were dangled centimeters above his nose was always hilarious; especially because they had no choice but to savor the stench.
The girls competed for the prize of having the smelliest feet; and girls had been making all of the necessary preparations eo ensure that no one else could rival them in the potency of the foot odor. It wasnÕt just the athletic girls, lately come from practice, who were trying to outdo each other, all of them having worn the same pair of socks for days and days. Everyone wanted to give these boys something to remember. ÒSo is becoming a frat really worth this?Ó asked Miranda out loud on one occasion, just before holding her cheese toes over a pledgeÕs nose. Well, it should come as no surprise that Stinkfoot always won the prize for smelliest foot; no one came close. She was the queen of foot stink; and all she needed were her trusty old sneakers which she loved to tie to the pledges faces so that they would all get a hearty dose of her putrid foot stench. She grimed many a male face with her sweaty feet, and any man whoÕd been forced to smell her feet would never be the same again.
By the end of the evening, the girls would have had their toes thoroughly sniffed and licked clean (toejam and all) by one or more male pledges. The boys begged for mercy as stinky foot after stinky foot was revealed and pressed into their faces; but no quarter was given. The evening was for the girls and if they wanted to raunch the boys with their feet, that’s just what they were going to do. But girls will be girls, won’t they?
For Beth, they were happy days indeed. She wishes she could find Stinkfoot and relive those precious moments, a man’s face under foot and a nose pressed into the soft flesh underneath her toes. Beth warned me that if Stinkfoot was doing what she wanted to do, she’d be raising an army of women who would impose their foot odor on as much of the male populace as possible. There would be dire days ahead; but, whatever the case, Miranda is probably getting her stinking feet sniffed and licked clean by some poor unsuspecting male.
Hopefully, Beth can tell us more about Stinkfoot’s sorority experiences; but I’m sure she’ll have more to reveal about the enigmatic stinkfoot who few men have been able to forget and who has inspired so many women to have more fun at the expense of men. As far as beth knows, the Alpha PhiÕs are still raunching pledges and humiliating them with their foot stink; but no one could have come close to replacing Stinkfoot.
STINKFOOT’S CAMPING TRIP
This story is the most recent, chronologically. Most likely, it takes place about five years after her track team / sorority days in college, well after her brief stint as a book clerk just after college, and shortly after her waitress work which she did to support herself while she pursued acting. Miranda Stinkfoot never gave up acting; but the career path was fraught with too many uncertainties. After working with a friend at an advertising company, Miranda decided to shift her focus to something more concrete. She would enter the corporate world and attempt to make a name for herself in the field of advertising. She was tough and she was creative, an ideal combination.
Miranda had only just embarked upon this career path of hers when she met Simon, a friend of a friend who was smitten with her just as every man was. Needless to say, Miranda took advantage of his devotions by having him run errands for her and having him make himself very useful to her. I speak of this with the help of Simon who has graciously offered me what he remembers about Stinkfoot. “She was beautiful, so sure of herself,” he told me. “I would have done anything for her, and I did.”
For kicks, Miranda had joined a feminist group which periodically took camping trips into the mountains. Miranda, not one to toe the feminist line, was an independent spirit who preferred doing things her way; but she joined the group because she enjoyed the idea of roughing it a bit in the great outdoors. When a July 4 weekend camping excursion permitted the inclusion of some men, Miranda invited Simon. She always preferred the company of men anyway. But Simon was a bit leery of spending his July 4 weekend with a group of feminist women; she told him she felt the same way and wanted merely to spend some time with him. Simon accepted.
Preparations were made, and the women organized themselves into groups of six or seven. Once Simon became aware that he would be the only male in the group, he began to have second thoughts about the trip; but Miranda suggested that perhaps the trip might offer romantic possibilities for them. Simon wanted her and thought little of how he might be designated as the convenient scapegoat for all of the harm done by men to women. Simon and Miranda left to meet the others and all seven of them set out for the mountains.
Joining Simon and Miranda were Joan, Adriana, Suzanne, Muriel and Esther. It was evident from the very beginning that they resented Simon’s presence; they wanted this trip to serve as an opportunity for female-bonding, for a chance to freely discuss the men in their lives. They didn’t wanted a man getting in the way; they didn’t want to worry about impressing a man. Simon would sense the resentment and he expressed his concerns to Miranda. Miranda reassured him that it didn’t matter; but Miranda was glad of this tension. After all, Miranda had plans to take advantage of it.
Simon didn’t help matters by openly challenging their disparaging remarks about men; and he failed to win any friends. The first day of a four day trip went rather uneventfully, but Miranda decided that the time was ripe to hatch a plan. Miranda wanted to make this an eventful trip for everyone, to amusing themselves, to give the women a chance to vent their frustrations with men and to give Simon an indelible memory. The evening of the first day, Miranda spoke with the other women while Simon was waiting for Miranda at the local lake; he assumed she would meet him there as arranged, but she never showed up for a romantic rendezvous.
Miranda gave the appearance of being very upset with Simon. When asked by the others what was wrong, she explained that Simon was the cause of her agitation. According to Simon (and Simon would hear of this later when he confronted Suzanne about the weekend’s bizarre events), Miranda Stinkfoot told them that Simon insisted on having sex with her by the lake, but that he refused to understand her reluctance. She came on the trip to be with them, and not to have sex with Simon. “Let him wait,” remarked Joan when Miranda told them that she left Simon by the lake.
Miranda then explained her disappointment with Simon. She remarked that Simon refused to give her a foot massage even though she worked hard all day. Esther then said that her boyfriend was a jerk because he wouldn’t give her a footrub; “He tells me,” continued Esther,” that my feet smell and he doesn’t want to hold them. OF course they smell after work; is that my fault?” The women all agreed that Esther’s boyfriend was selfish.
Miranda, inspired more than ever, then told them of a fictional bet which Simon had lost. “Simon and I were trying to quit smoking; we bet each other that the first person to smoke again would have to pay a heavy price. Since we hadn’t had sex yet, he proposed that if I lost the bet, I would have to become his sex slave and do everything he wanted. He wanted a few of my swinger friends to join us in bed.” Some of the women were shocked that Simon suggested an orgy.
Miranda continued. “So I said that if he lost the bet, he’d let me humiliate him a bit. He’d have to get undressed in front of me and some of my friends; and then we’d get to rub our feet in his face as much as we wanted, and make him smell our feet. Are feet would have been clean; for me it would have been the humiliation of being naked at the feet of my friends. Anyway, Simon lost the bet; he started smoking again only one week after we made our bet. But he refused to be a gentleman about it; he wouldn’t pay the price.”
”How like a man,” remarked Suzanne. Miranda continued. “I’m angry because he refused to honor his word. I felt like I couldn’t trust him. My friends were angry and said that they should make him abase himself in front of them. One of my friends even suggested that we get our feet really smelly before we forced him to worship them. I didn’t have the heart to force him to do anything. I just wanted him to be fair; but he just ignored me. I really want to humiliate him now, and I;ve imagined having my friends help me do it. I’ve thought how he deserves to have my friends rub their smelly feet in his face; but then I don’t want to hurt him.”
”he deserves it baby,” interjected Muriel. “He’s a bastard, and he’ll never learn otherwise. You should force him to honor his bet.” “And you guys should get your feet really smelly too,” added Joan with a laugh, The others laughed too. “God knows, I’d love to rub my feet in Simon’s face,” added Joan. The others laughed again. And then Muriel suggested what Miranda had been hoping to hear all evening. “Why don’t we help you, Miranda. There are enough of us to overpower him. We’ll strip him and then make him smell and lick our feet.”
”No, no, I couldn’t ask you to do that,” replied Miranda. “”Don’t worry, we’d enjoy it,” said Joan with a smirk. The others all seemed receptive to the idea of having a little fun at Simon’s expense. “I only wish this were my boyfriend,” added Esther to everyone’s amusement. Spirits were high, now that the women imagined humiliating Simon. “And let’s get our feet really stinky,” said Adriana. “You know, wear the same socks until the end of the trip, and then we’ll do him on the third day.”
”The same socks for three long days of hiking.” said Joan. “Our feet will smell so foul.” “Exactly,” Adriana reminded them. Everyone laughed; and then they began to prepare just how they’d have their fun with Simon.
The following evening, Simon remembers failing to secure time alone with Miranda; Miranda disappeared so he asked Esther and Muriel where she was. They only warned him that he’d better be nicer to Miranda. Simon didn’t know what they were talking about. And then when they took off their hiking boots, the stench was a bit revolting. Simon remarked about the stink, “don’t you girls ever change your socks?” But Esther and Muriel merely told him that if he had a problem with their feet, he could go to another part of the forest. Simon wrinkled his nose and left them to giggle to themselves.
The following evening, the women were ready to do the dirty deed. They set up camp after a particularly long hike, and sat down to dinner. Simon, as was his habit, took a little nap on the tarp before hoisting it up to create a tent for the evening. Simon was reflecting on how disappointing the trip had been since Miranda had neglected to spend much time alone with him; and they hadn’t even kissed. Simon felt someone sit on him and gazed up to see Esther’s smiling face; she was indeed sitting on him. the others were crowding around him, all of them with smiles on their faces. “What’s going on?” asked Simon. Then, in answer to his question, Joan and Adriana grabbed his wrists while Suzanne and Muriel grabbed hold of his legs.
Esther then got up, and invited Miranda over to help strip him. Hearing this, Simon struggled all he could; he was frightened of what they might be contemplating. But Simon couldn’t break free; there were too many of them, and they were making fun of him. Miranda appeared reluctant to do anything but Esther insisted. She brought Miranda over to Simon and commanded her to unbutton his shirt while she pulled his pants down. Simon was straining to break free but he could do nothing.
Miranda merely unbuttoned his shirt, apologizing to him (as this was part of her feigned innocence); while Esther enthusiastically unzipped Simon’s pants and slid them down his legs, to a road of applause from the women. Esther yanked his underwear down and then there was an even louder cacophany of shrill female voices. Suzanne and Muriel busily removed his pants and boxers before tying his ankles together with rope. Joan and Adriana pulled Simon’s shirt and undershirt over his head, and then tied his ankles together with rope. It all happened so fast; and before he knew it, Simon was laying naked on the tarp, his hands tied above his head, while the women laughed and high-fived each other.
”So who’s first?” asked Esther. “Before waiting for a reply, Esther sat herself down on Simon’s chest. “Well if you’re not going to do it I will,” she exclaimed. “Time to smell some feet, you bastard.” With that, Esther pulled off her hiking boots and held her crusty, damp sock feet before him. The stench quickly assaulted his senses and it was a fetid, smell, musty and vinegary. Esther pressed her warm, damp sock feet in his face, to more cheers and catcalls. Simon, gasped for air and breathed in the pungent stink. I t was sharp and cloying and caused him to lurch in a desperate attempt at escape. But escape was impossible. Esther was beginning to rub her sweaty sock feet in his face and he could do nothing but smell them. Joan was holding his head still with her hiking boots on either side of his face.
”You’re feet really stink,” said Adriana was gazing at the scene with evident amusement. “I don’t think I’m the only one,” asserted Esther. Everyone laughed at that. “Smell my feet you bastard,” ordered Esther. Simon was breathing her foot odor and kissing her socked feet whenever she told him to. And then she peeled off her damp socks to present him with the stale-smelling soles of her slightly dirty feet. Pieces of sock fabric dotted the balls of her feet and there was dirt between her toes. Ether rubbed her sweaty feet over his face, cupping them over his nose and brushing her stinky toes against his nostrils. “Have a good whiff,” she said. Simon emphasized how awful they smelled; and how much she enjoyed forcing him to smell her feet. And then Esther ordered him to clean her sweaty feet. “Lick them clean, or we’ll never untie you,” remarked Esther. Simon readily complied and began to feed upon the salty film which covered her soles and toes. She had him lick her feet from heel to toe and feed upon the tow jam from between her toes. Simon finished by sucking on her toes until she felt satisfied that he’d tasted every inch of her sweaty, stinky feet.”
”I’m next,” bellowed Adriana as she pushed Esther aside and sat on Simon’s chest. “Ready to smell some more feet,” asked Adriana as she untied her shoelaces. When Simon begged them to leave them alone, Esther shoved her rank hiking sock into Simon’s open mouth. “Now he as to smell your feet without protest,” said Esther. Adriana pulled off her boots and pressed her warm, funky-smelling sock feet in Simon’s face. He was instantly overwhelmed by the warmth and by the ripe stench which reminded him of old cheese. “Oh Adriana,” remarked Esther who was holding Simon’s head still with her bare feet, “you’re feet smell worse than mine.” Adriana giggled at this and began to rub her sweaty sock feet in Simon’s face, squeezing his nose with her clenched sock toes and grinding her toes over his nose. “How’s the air down there,” said Adriana. The others giggled.
”I thought this was going to be the worst hiking trip,” announced Adriana, “but I had no idea how much fun this was going to be. Then Adriana turned to Simon and spoke. “Stinky enough for you?” she asked as she curled her sock toes over his nose. Then, like Esther, Adriana removed her socks and rubbed her sweaty bare feet all over Simon’s face and wriggled her stinky toes over his nose, playfully clutching at it and squeezing it. Eventually, the sock was pulled from his mouth and he was ordered to clean Adriana’s cheesy feet just as he’d cleaned Esther’s feet. She dangled the toes end of her sock over his nose as he plied his tongue over her soles and between her toes probing for toe jam.
Soon enough, Suzanne occupied the coveted position and kicked off her boots to reveal yet another pair of damp, putrid-smelling sock feet which Suzanne pressed over his nose. The woman laughed, holding their noses to show how they felt about Suzanne’s feet. But poor Simon couldn’t hold his nose; he took in breath after breath (with Esther’s old crusty, cheesy sock stuffed in his mouth) of Suzanne’s stinking feet which smelled of foot sweat and old shoe. Like the others before her, Suzanne loved every minute of this perverse torture and repeatedly ordered Simon to smell her feet. As if Simon had a choice.
Suzanne slid her bear feet over his face and smeared it with foot sweat before pulling Esther’s sock from his mouth and commanding him to clean her feet. He used his tongue to lick the sweat from her toes and soles while using his teeth to more effectively clean the dirt from the hard patches of skin on her feet. She had him clean the dirt from between her toes while pressing the toes of her other foot over his nose. When finished, she stuffed one of her own rank socks into his mouth and left him to feed upon the acrid taste.
Muriel and Joan were next and both of them thoroughly drenched his face in foot sweat. They cupped their sock toes over his nose and forced him to breathe through the sweat-soaked fabric of their well-worn hiking socks. Their feet smelled of vinegar and cheese with a hint of fermented fruit juice; it was a sharp stench which could not be ignored. First Muriel humiliated Simon by having him lick her pungent feet clean; and then Simon would taste the salty sweat of Joan’s feet which were slightly calloused and dirty on the hard patches of skin. he scraped these clean with his teeth and licked her sweaty feet clean.
The girls had been teasing each other about who had the smelliest feet, and as it stood, Adriana took the prize. But then Miranda took her turn. Little did the others know that she’d been wearing g the same socks for days before the trip and that her hiking boots was already fermented inside with the extent of their use. Miranda sat atop Simon’s chest, apologized again (and, at the time, Simon was actually taken in by he apologies), and then removed her boots. Joan’s fetid sock was stuffed into Simon’s mouth; and as Miranda removed her shoes, the stench overwhelmed everyone. The women stumbled back and registered their surprise at such a smell. Miranda had been getting better and better at getting her feet stinky; she was a pro. And Simon had never smelled anything like it. It was an already rank gym smell turned up several notches to become positively deafening. Take the stink of rotten sneakers, crusty gym socks, old cheese and emphasize it. Simon lurched and struggled with the bonds; but he couldn’t move nor could he shake Miranda from off him. Adriana held his head straight with her smelly feet, while Miranda pressed her hot, rancid sock feet onto his face. Simon coughed and breathed in the sharp noxious fumes which emanated from her socked feet.
But Miranda was oblivious to his struggling; she was simply rubbing her feet in his face and playing toesies with his nose as if it were the most commonplace thing. The other women, knowing how strong the stench was, were in hysterics at the thought that Simon had to sniff them. Miranda cupped her toes over his nose as he took audible breaths through his nose. And then when she peeled off her socks, she rubbed her sweaty, dirty, stinky size 9’s in his face, letting his nose slip between her toes and wriggling them with care-free abandon. Miranda eventually asked him to clean them; she pulled the sock from his mouth and pressed one of her warm feet over his mouth. he licked the sour, stale sweat from her feet, and licked the dirt which accumulated on her heels, on the balls of her feet and from between her toes. Simon recalls being close to throwing up; but he survived the experience.
For some time after that, the women sat around him and rubbed their feet all over him, over his face, chest legs. There were twelve stinky feet slithering all over his body, and sixty stinky toes clutching at his nose and slipping into his mouth. Simon couldn’t have imagined anything more humiliating; but one more humiliation lay in store for him.
The women told him how much they’d enjoyed doing this to him, rubbing their putrid socks in his face as if to show affection. They loved hoe helpless he was and how they could humiliate him with their feet all they wanted. Not for a minute was hi face free of sweaty feet until the visitors arrived. One of the other camping groups set up camp nearby and a couple of the women, noticing the nearby campfire, walked over to greet them.
Esther then spoke to them. “Are there any men in your group?” she asked. “No,” was he reply. “Just six of us and we’re all women I can assure you.” “Good,” replied Esther as she led them to Simon, laying naked on the tarp, while Adriana and Suzanne rubbed their feet on him. The visitors were shocked but when Esther explained the entire situation, the visitors were by turns sympathetic and amused, and eager to take advantage of his helplessness as well.
And so the six women from the other camping group came over to laugh at Simon and to rub their feet in his face. The smell was nothing compared to what he’d just gone through with the others, so he considered himself fortunate. But he still felt humiliated that these women would giggle at his nakedness and at the fact that he had to sniff and lick their sweaty feet. Hiking boots were kicked off and smelly, musty socked feet and bare feet made themselves at home on his face. Fun was had by all but for Simon who fumed inwardly and contemplated revenge.
Once the women had their fun, and once Miranda had Simon worship her smelly dogs once again, they let him go, but refused to give his clothes until the morning. Simon curled up inside his sleeping bag to keep warm; and the following morning, the women taunted him about being naked and about having serviced their foul-smelling feet. “Which ones were your favorites,” asked someone; “which ones smelled the most,” asked another. Simon felt betrayed by Miranda; and that’s just what happened. Once the girls gave him his clothes back, he returned to town by himself. He never saw Stinkfoot again and felt too humiliated by the experience to speak of it until today. But Simon was just another victim of her perverse desire to force her foot stink on all men and encourage her fellow females to raunch men with their sweaty feet. And, needless to say, this was a July 4th weekend, SImon would never be able to forget.
The following is an account of a young man’s not so pleasant encounter with Miranda Stinkfoot and the Stinkfoot legend. The young man is Todd and he had the ill-fortune of working at the same ad-agency as Miranda, and, also, the ill-fortune of catching her eye. The topic of forced foot smelling came up at a luncheon put together by the employees of an ad agency where Todd was the only male employee. The following is the story as told to me by Todd.
“So what’s the wildest thing you’ve ever done, Miranda?” asked Rita. Miranda paused and teased the others with a grin. She gazed at her co-workers in turn, gazing at Amber, Meredith, Kate, Rita, Barbara and Todd, the new employee at the ad agency where Miranda worked. Her gaze lingered on Todd before she turned to Rita to answer the question.
“It’s a bit too wild, if you must know,” responded Miranda, knowing that this would only feed the flames of curiosity.
“Oh, just tell us,” remarked Barbara impatiently. “And if it’s the whole raunch thing you did as a sorority girl,” continued Barbara, “you should tell the others. They’d get a kick out of it.”
The others beamed with excitement and Meredith giggled with anticipation.
“Well, it goes like this …” began Miranda and proceeded to tell her companions about what she did to the frat pledges at the sorority, just as it was described in a prior story.
When Miranda finished her initial description of the outrageous events, of athletic college co-eds rubbing their sweaty, stinky feet in the faces of naked frat pledges, the others were at a loss for words. Todd was too shocked to know what to think.
“Wait,” began Amber, “so you’re saying you made these guys sniff your stinky feet all night?” Meredith responded to the question with a “Yuck.”
“And you made them lick your sweaty feet too?” continued Amber. “But that’s disgusting.”
“Oh, I’m sure their feet were clean,” remarked Kate.
“Oh, no they weren’t,” replied Miranda. “That was the whole point. We went out of our way to make this memorable for the pledges by getting our feet as stinky as possible. We wore the same socks for days. We wore running shoes and boots without socks. It wasn’t about forcing our feet on them as it was about forcing our smelly feet on them.”
“Yuck,” added Meredith, wrinkling her nose. “What kind of sorority does that?”
“One I wish I’d joined,” said Barbara. “Hell, they got these guys to lick their armpits, lick between their toes, smell their socks and panties. I mean, these sisters had a blast. All we got to do was paddle a few naked pledges, tame stuff in comparison.
“You mean, you would have enjoyed doing that to a guy,” asked Todd, shocked to hear such things from Barbara.
“Sure,” replied Barbara. “It would have been great. You’re having a laugh with your friends. You get to rub your sweaty feet all over a guy’s face. Press your toes up against his nose. It’s about getting away with things you usually can’t get away with. It would be liberating to have fun with a guy like that. Just make him smell my toes when I take off my shoes and have him lick them clean.
“I don’t understand you,” added Todd, shaking his head.
“It’s just about girls having a little fun,” replied Barbara. “There’s just something to be said for being able to rub your sweaty feet in a man’s face. But they’re just feet.”
“You know,” began Kate, “the way it’s described, it does sound kinda fun.”
“Well, the great thing,” explained Miranda, “is that the fun the women have outweighs any embarrassment or discomfort the guy has. The guy only has to sniff and lick some stinky feet, not to mention the embarrassment of being naked in front of us.”
“But you’re rubbing your feet in a guys face,” added Todd.
“Oh, it’s just feet,” said Kate. “Feet stink. I think you’re overreacting. The girls were just having fun, as Barbara said. It’s a sorority, after all.”
“That’s true,” said Rita. “The girls had just come back from practice. They got sweaty and their feet got smelly.”
“But that’s not the point,” huffed Todd.
“Oh, you’re just being difficult,” declared Rita. “You’ve been with the company two weeks, and already you told me I had stinky feet.”
“But you did,” said Todd. “You took off your shoes and put your feet on the desk.”
“You didn’t have to say anything and make me feel bad,” added Rita.
“But the smell was so strong,” maintained Todd. “How could I not say something.”
“We’re straying from the point,” interjected Barbara. “What about the raunching? What about girls forcing guys to smell their feet?”
“Well,” began Amber, “I think it’s gross. I mean my feet get pretty bad at the end of the day, and I can’t imagine just wiping them on a guys face and forcing him to smell the nasty foot odor.”
“Well, you deal with the smell every day,” replied Miranda. “What’s the harm in having someone else smell them when they stink?”
“I don’t know, “said Amber. “I’d get into the part about stripping the guys naked. I think that would be good, harmless fun. But making a guy smell my feet … too cruel.”
The others laughed.
“I only wish I could have gone to one of those sorority parties,” said Kate. “I’m sure Amber would have rubbed her feet in a guy’s face if she were at the party.”
“I would have loved to watch,” remarked Meredith. “Watch them get stripped, and then watch as the others took off their shoes and rubbed their feet in the guy’s faces. I’m curious.”
“Well, it’s all true,” said Miranda. “And if you wanted to check it out yourself, let me know. I’m sure I could get all of you invited to the next party. I used to be sorority president after all and I still have clout. Besides, the party’s open to women anyway.”
“You never said I could do this,” said Barbara. “I would have gone and my feet would have been so stinky they’d have made your eyes water.”
“Gross,” added Meredith, screwing up her eyes. “But I’d love to watch you do it.”
“I’d love to go to one of those parties and get my sweaty toes sniffed,” added Kate.
“If Todd didn’t have such a problem with stinky feet,” suggested Kate, “we could have some raunchy fun with him.”
“But, it doesn’t matter if he has a problem or not,” explained Miranda. “In fact, it’s better if the guy has a problem with women getting sweaty and smelly. It’s more satisfying to make him squirm a bit while you press your toes over his nose.”
“Maybe you’ll get a chance to smell my feet again,Todd,” laughed Rita
“Be quiet,” replied Todd.
“If I had my way,” said Barbara, “Todd would lick and sniff our feet after work. I mean, it’s just sweaty feet, and it would be hilarious to have a foot sniffing office boy.”
“I can’t believe you guys,” said Todd.
“Oh, it’s just feet,” remarked Rita. “Why do you have such a problem with feet? I think the only way you’re going to deal with this hang-up is to have lots of stinky feet rubbed in your face.”
“All you have to do is smell them,” said Barbara. “They’ll reek, but I think you can handle it. I don’t know why you won’t smell a few feet so we can have a great time. It’s just a smell; it’s not like you’d be hurt or anything. ”
“We should invite some friends over and encourage them to get their feet smelly,” suggested Miranda. The others agreed.
‘Oh, I have friends who would be so into this,” said Kate. They’re waitresses so I know they’d have sweaty feet.”
“I have some sporty friends,” added Amber.
“I bet he doesn’t mind the whole smelly foot thing,” said Meredith. “I bet he’d be bothered by having us strip him and seeing him naked.” The women laughed.
“I’d love to see him naked,” said Rita, sizing him up. “But I’m definitely making him smell my feet and I want him to lick every inch of them.”
“Oh, don’t look so glum, Todd,” cooed Rita. “All you have to do is breathe in through your nose, we’ll do the rest.” The others laughed again. “remember, it’s just sweaty feet, nothing more. Of course, there’ll be lots of us and there’ll be lots of us getting our feet sniffed and licked.”
“Hope you like cheesy toes,” added Kate.
“I promise you this, Todd,” began Barbara. “There will come a day when you will smell our feet, when we’ll rub our feet in your face to our heart’s content, when you will lick every inch of our sweaty feet. I promise you that. And you won’t know when.”
“This is too much,” replied Todd. He stood up.
As he left, he heard Barbara exclaim, “he has such a problem with feet.”
At this point, Todd excused himself from the table and left for the bathroom. When he returned, he heard mention made of his name. He hid behind a corner where he could spy upon the following conversation.
“So here’s what we’ll do,” explained Miranda. “We’ll lure him to a discrete place, get some friends to help us out, and then we’ll jump him. We’ll strip him naked, tie him up and then we’ll give him a raunching he won’t forget. We can then take turns rubbing our feet in his face, having him sniff them and lick them. But we should make an effort to get our feet stinky.”
“I’m all for it,” replied Barbara. “I should have no trouble getting my feet stinky; I have pretty sweaty feet. You should have no trouble either, Amber.”
“Oh, I probably wouldn’t have to try,” responded Amber. “But I still think it’s cruel. “Let’s just pull his clothes off and tease him a bit.”
“No, I want him to smell my feet, “said Kate. “And I’ll wear my ratty old Keds all day; and then he can eat my toe cheese.”
“I can’t wait to see his face when I press my smelly feet right over his face,” said Rita with a laugh. “I’m all for it. Let’s do it.”
“We’ll have to surprise him and then we can force him to sniff our feet and lick the soles of our feet. Just leave the planning to me.”
Todd coughed, to warn them he was approaching and turned the corner.
When Todd returned to the table, the others said nothing. He noticed a few smirks and surreptitious grins, but nothing more was said on the topic of raunching and forced foot sniffing and licking. For weeks, Todd heard nothing, and he concluded that they were just having a little fun with him. He believed he had nothing to fear; after all, there were no signs that the girls were planning anything at all. Life resumed as if nothing had been said that day at lunch.
One day, Amber invited him over for party she was giving. Knowing how Amber felt about the foot sniffing thing, he felt he had nothing to fear. Besides, he was attracted to Amber and he welcomed a chance to get to know her better. Todd accepted and, that Friday, he showed up at Amber’s place.
The moment he entered the house, he feared the worst. There must have been ten or twelve women in the living women and they all cheered when he arrived. Todd could feel his face turn crimson from the thought of being humiliated by them.
“Surprise,” yelled everyone as if this wee a surprise birthday party for Todd.
He turned to leave but Amber and Kate were blocking the door. Kate pulled a key from the door and lifted her right foot. She dropped the key into the Keds she’d been wearing without socks. “You’re going to have to smell what’s inside this shoe before you get the key back,” remarked Kate with a grin.
It all came together. The women had been dressing casual of late, wearing sneakers without socks, wearing funky old shoes; and it all began to make sense. Todd froze in his tracks as he attempted to contrive a mean s of escape. Unfortunately, there were too man y of hem and they were crowding around him, leering and grinning.
Then Barbara stepped forward. “This is my place, “ she spoke. “And I’m glad you could make it. It wouldn’t be much of a party without you. You’re the man of the hour.” The women cheered and laughed.
“Please. Don’t do this,” Todd pleaded.
“Remember that promise I made,” replied Barbara. “Well tonight’s the night. Time you learned to become a little more comfortable with feet.”
“I can’t believe we’re going to do this,” remarked one of the women.
This was too much for Todd and he turned towards the door, in a desperate attempt at escape.
Barbara then grabbed him by the belt and yanked him towards her. “No you don’t.”
“Let’s strip him and get started,” she hollered. The women giggled as they surrounded him and began to pick and grab at his clothes.
Someone tripped him and he fell backwards. The women tumbled upon him and, squealing with delight, they proceeded to pull off his shoes, socks, shirt and pants. Within seconds, his boxer shorts were hoisted into the air and he was pulled up from the floor.
The women were cheering and chanting at this point, but Todd was too humiliated to know what to think. The women pulled him over to the sofa and pushed him to the floor, where they held his legs and arms apart and began to attach his ankles and wrists to rope.
Once he was bound to the floor, he women pulled away from him and gazed down at his humiliating predicament with broad grins.
Barbara pulled up a chair next to his head and sat down on it. “Before this night is through, you’re going to smell everyone’s feet. And everytime we press a stinky foot in your face, you’re going to thank us. You’ll finish by licking everyone’s feet clean.” The women cheered.
Barbara crossed her legs so Todd could see the bottom of her sneakered foot. She was wearing the canvas shoes she had on that day and the day before. She proceeded to untie the laces. “I’ve been wearing these for days without socks. You’ll love ‘em. When I took them off last night, the smell was atrocious.” Barbara then crossed her legs again and untied the other shoe.
Barbara reached inside her pocket and retrieved a dirty pair of white sweat socks. “These are a crusty pair of socks I’d been wearing for my jogs. They’ll make the perfect gag.” Having said that, she dangled the toe ends of the socks over his nose. The stench of musty, cheesy old socks alerted him to the reality of his predicament and he struggled with the rope. It was futile, and the women were merely laughing at his failed attempt. “Just wait until I wipe my bare feet on your face.”
Barbara then squeezed Todd’s mouth and began to stuff the toe end of a sock into his sock. he tried to fight it, but when Barbara threatened to hurt his balls (which he could no longer protect), he complied and let her slide the dirty old sock into his mouth. It tasted rancid, as if he were chewing a moldy old sneaker. He had no choice but to suck on it.
Then Miranda knelt next to him and pulled some duct tape over his mouth. “Just to make sure he sniffs everything we shove in his face,” remarked Miranda with a chuckle. The others laughed.
Barbara held a sneaker-covered foot next to his face and pried the shoe off using his head. Before her greasy, sweaty foot slid over his face, the blast of hot, fetid foot stink overwhelmed him. As Barbara brought her warm, sweaty bare foot onto his face, wriggling her toes, the smell intensified, until she playfully cupped her stinky toes over his nose.
“Oh, that feels good to get those off,” remarked Barbara. And then Todd heard Miranda. “We’re all a little anxious to get our shoes off; I mean we went to a lot of trouble to get our feet sweaty and smelly. So you can expect us to be a bit ill-tempered.” “Oh, I’m doing great,” replied Barbara with a chuckle. She pulled off the other shoe and let her sweaty bare foot slide onto his face next to the other one. Todd tried not to breathe in the putrid foot stink, but try as he might, he couldn’t help but take massive gulps of musty air. Barbara merely wriggled her toes as she grappled with his nose and slid her toes up against his nostrils. “I can feel the cool air through my toes when he sniffs them.” She turned to Todd. “Keep sniffing hard. It feels great.”
Whenever Todd took a gasp of air through his nose, the women laughed. “Oh, I can smell them from here,” remarked someone. “They’re rank.”
“Smell my feet,” demanded Barbara as she cupped her toes over his nose.
Todd couldn’t take anymore of this, and he sharply turned his head to the side. Barbara’s feet slid of his face.
“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” Barbara said as Kate anchored Todd’s head between her Keds. As another girl also pressed a dirty pair of sneakers against his head to keep it still, the stench of raunchy old sneakers wafted to his nose.
Barbara then pressed her feet firmly onto his face and began to rub them all over, from forehead to chin. “Just smell them and stop being difficult.”
“They’re just stinky feet. And you don’t have a choice. You’re going to have to smell everyone’s feet before you leave, so I’d suggest you relax, breathe and we can do this quickly. The longer this takes, the more our feet are going to sweat and stink.”
Barbara then began to rub her sweaty bare feet all over Todd’s face, pressing the pungent, vinegary ball of her foot against his nostrils and cupping her Parmesan-scented toes. “This feels great on the feet,” observed Barbara as she began to grind the sole of her foot over his nose and chin.
Todd spent ten minutes inhaling the sharp foot stink before Barbara yanked the sock from his mouth and commanded him to lick her sweaty, dirty feet clean. “But they stink, and they’re dirty,” complained Todd.
“Oh, stop complaining,” said Barbara. “You’re here to smell our feet and not to comment on how much they stink. I know they stink.” Everyone laughed. “You go girl,” added a voice from the crowd of jubilant women.
He wrinkled his nose, dreading every moment; but Barbara left him no choice. She pressed a dirty heel over his mouth and then Todd surprised himself by sucking on it and licking it. Some of the women groaned from the sight of Todd licking Barbara’s funky feet.
Todd cleaned black specks of sneaker dirt from the soles of her feet as she worked his way towards her toes, cleaning between the sweaty toes with his tongue and munching on gritty pieces of dirt. He finished by sucking on each of Barbara’s toes and then, as prompted by Barbara, he thanked her for letting him clean her feet and smell them. Everyone cheered.
A few women arrived since Todd began his ordeal, as he heard exclamations of surprise form women who couldn’t believe they were really doing this.
“I’m next,” insisted Amber who jumped onto the vacated seat. She was wearing some high-heel loafers bare foot, and as great as they looked on her, Todd dreaded having the stinky, sweaty soles of her soft feet pressed onto his face.
“I thought you weren’t going to do this,” asked Miranda.
“Can’t a girl change her mind,” replied Amber with a laugh. She wasted no time, kicking off her shoes and pressing her damp, hot feet onto Todd’s face. Her feet were indeed as strong-smelling as she’d maintained weeks ago, and Todd gasped from the stench . It was a cloying, almost fruity smell which assaulted his senses, and he struggled to breathe through his mouth.
“Here’s a sock,” said Barbara as she handed Amber one of her crusty old sweat socks. Amber quickly stuffed the to end into Todd’s mouth and gleefully continued to play footsie with Todd’s nose. She brushed her sweaty toes over his nose and then squeezed his nose before letting her cheesy toes slither over his face. While Amber took advantage of his helplessness, Miranda once again applied tape to his mouth.
“This is great,” remarked Amber as she clutched at Todd’s nose with her toes.
“Amber, your feet really stink,” said Miranda. “Nice work.”
“Thanks, I guess,” replied Amber. Once Amber was satisfied that Todd had thoroughly sniffed her toes, she pulled the sock from his mouth and ordered him to lick her sweaty feet. She wriggled her toes as if that would make the prospect of licking all of the foot sweat more palatable. It wasn’t fun for him, just for Amber, and for the other women who were enjoying his humiliation at the feet of Amber.
Todd thanked Amber for the pleasure of cleaning her sweaty feet before being presented with the bottoms of Kate’s ratty old Keds. She dangled a shoe over his face before pressing it to the floor and struggling to pull her shoe off. A hot rush of foot stink greeted his nostrils just before her sweaty toes perched themselves atop his nose.
“Smell my stinky feet, “ asked Kate with a laugh. Kate slid her foul-smelling feet over his face, heel to toe, and so enthusiastic was she, she practically shoved her cheesy toes up his nostrils. The stench was unbearable but Todd was getting used to it by now. It wasn’t any worse than what he’d already been subjected to. Kate then surprised everyone by turning her shoe over and placing it over Todd’s nose.
It was a moldy, and warm scent which confronted his nose and he breathed in the noxious stink as Kate and some of the others laughed. “He’s smelling her rotted shoe,” remarked a voice in the crowd. This would later inspire other women to force Todd to sniff inside their stinky old sneakers and shoes.
As Todd proceeded to lick and nibble on Kate’s dirty, sweaty feet, and lick between her toes, he was beyond humiliation. He was simply doing what they wanted him to. He sniffed when asked and licked when asked; but the more compliant he became, the more the others seemed to lose interest and talk amongst themselves. They enjoyed the initial struggle and the watching Todd suffer his first pair of stinky female feet; but they many stepped away simply awaiting their turn.
Rita was next and she enthusiastically leaped onto the seat and presented with her booted feet. She pried of the boots and held her hose-covered soles to Todd. As the stench sent him reeling; it was a moldy, warm, vinegary stink and as Rita pressed her damp, stocking-covered feet over his face, she sighed.
“I’ve been waiting to do this for weeks,” exclaimed Rita as she rubbed her stockinged feet over his face and grappled with his nose with her malodorous toes, just as the others had done. “Have a big whiff,” she said. “It won’t be your last.”
“From now on, I’m going to use your face as a footrest at work,” she insisted. “And you’re going to have to lump it.”
“I hope he’s learning to deal with his problem with feet,” pondered Barbara aloud.
“Yeah, they’re just stinky feet,” added Rita with a laugh, as she let her toes explore his face and slide over his nostrils. But he problem wasn’t so much the smell, but the fact that these women were rubbing their sweaty feet over his face and forcing him to lick them all over. He resented the fun they were having at his expense.
Miranda was next, and, as on prior occasions, she astonished others by the strength of her foot odor. It was a steamy, rank scent with a hint of stale cheese and the sting of vinegar, not to mention the ripe scent of old sneakers. Miranda’s sneakers seemed to be falling apart; and, no doubt, she’d worn these whenever she subjected a man to the stench of her sweaty feet.
She kicked off her shoes and immediately pressed her feet onto Todd’s face. He was stunned by the smell and breathed in the odor as she rubbed her foot sweat into his face. She had him sniff under her toes and under the ball of her feet. The feet were thoroughly stinky and dirty, but Todd breathed it in and filled his lungs with the signature Miranda Stinkfoot foot smell.
Cleaning her dirty feet was even worse, as he sucked on her grimy heels and sucked on her dirty toes, chewing pieces of shoe fabric which were affixed to her feet with the sweat.
The women were disgusted by the smell and pulled back; but they were mesmerized and amused by it. “I still can’t believe we’re doing this,” replied Meredith who was capturing much of this on videotape. “How long you been wearing those?” asked Amber.
Once Miranda handed the chair to someone else, the evening continued much as it had begin, as the women took turns getting their sweaty, stinky feet sniffed and licked clean. Smelly sock feet and rank stocking feet were rubbed all over his face, and sweaty toes tugged and clutched at his nose. Funky old running shoes were held over his nose and cheesy toes brushed over his face. A young woman with a foot odor problem thrilled everyone as she held her nasty toes over his face and ordered him to breath in the rancid stink. Crusty old soks and damp nylons were dangled in his face and dirty toes plunged into his mouth.
Some of the women took to presenting him with their armpits and forcing him to lick them, while others rubbed their used panties in his face and holding the crotch portions over his nose. Todd was assaulted by a plethora of raunchy smells, and once everyone, all fourteen or fifteen of them, had forced him to sniff and lick their feet, they let him loose.
“As women passed him on their way out, some of them thanked him. “Thanks for smelling my feet, Todd,” remarked a woman in running gear. “And thanks for licking mine,” remarked someone else. “They were in desperate need of a cleaning.”
“You can smell my feet anytime, Todd, “added Rita who gave him a playful tug on his cock.
“And if you don’t want this videotape to get out,” said Meredith, “You’ll continue to play ball with us.” Todd was frightened by the prospect of his humiliation becoming in any way public. They had him.
“Yes, I think we have a foot slave, girls,” exclaimed Barbara with a laugh. “And we’ll get out feet massage, sniffed and licked anytime.”
“His face is a portable foot rest,” added Rita. Everyone laughed at this. “And it would be great to use his face massage our tired feet after work.”
“Do you still have a problem with feet?” asked Barbara.
“No,” replied Todd, but his anger was gone. He responded to the prompts and did what they asked of him.
“See,” continued Barbara. “It was just a bunch of stinky, sweaty feet; and you sniffed and licked them all and lived to tell the tale. It wasn’t so bad, after all.”
Barbara had him thank everyone for letting him smell their funky feet before giving him his clothes and allowing him to leave.
But the fight was out of Todd. And the next day, he readily complied, when the women asked for foot rubs or when they wriggled their stinky toes in his face and demanded that he sniff them. And the last hours of the work day were invariably spent sucking on toes and letting them rub their feet in his face. Todd remained at the agency for another six months until he found a better job; but, he still maintains that Miranda’s feet are still the foulest feet he’s ever had the misfortune to smell.
OFFICE BOY: THE BEGINNING
Oh, Miranda Stinkfoot, what has become of you? Where are the feet that made men delirious? No man who has ever felt your sweaty size 9 1/2’s slither and slide over his face has ever been left unaffected. No man who has inhaled the mighty stale odor of your feet has ever been able to forget. For all the men who’ve ever been forced to smell your stinking feet, you’ve truly made an impression.
Perhaps you’re nothing more than a myth, a fiction told to appease our dark desires. Or perhaps you’re a tale founded in truth, for that, some of us may hope. Or perhaps you’re a told told of many women, the names long forgotten, the personalities fused to become one woman, larger than life.
For our purposes, we’ll assume that you’re more than just a fiction, and that you are a woman who has inspired other women to make footstools of men, to turn men into stinky foot-smelling, dirty foot-licking footboys, ever thankful for the warm caress of a cheesy pair of sweaty female feet on their faces.
Oh, but one more thing before I begin. I want to take a moment to place Miranda in perspective, timewise. Based upon all accounts, I can safely draw the following conclusions about Miranda Stinkfoot.
Born in the summer of 1969
“Trick or Treat” in 1983
College 1987-1991 (track team and soccer)
“Lockerroom Prank” 1987
Pledge Alpha Phi
“Sorority Hijinks” 1988-1991
1991 work at summer soccer camp. Recall Petey?
“Biker Chicks” 1991
Pursue acting; work as waitress
“Diner Story” 1993
“Camping Trip” 1995
“The Surprise” 1996
“Office Boy – The Beginning” 1998
Moves to another ad. company
Visit Woman’s Collective. See Woman’s Collective Part 4
and inspires Ladies’ Footrest
So now this brings us to our next installment in the Stinkfoot saga, which takes place during her early advertising agency days, perhaps in 1998 or so. As we shall see, this takes place at the same agency featured in Office Boy, only this story serves as a prequel of sorts, taking place before the ever restless Miranda left the company, the second agency she worked for (the first being the setting for The Surprise). Once again, we see Miranda’s dangerous influence over other women at play. In this table, the poor victim is a new co-worker by the name of Jon.
It was Jon’s first day as a proofreader at the new job when he detected the faint but unmistakable odor of smelly feet. We worked in close proximity to two women, Rachel and Miranda, two copywriters; but they appeared far too clean to be the source of such a pungent stench. Jon tried to ignore it but the odor lingered well into the afternoon.
On the second day, Jon was once again introduced to the musty foot odor. Where was it coming from? Then as if in response to his unspoken question, Miranda flung one of her feet onto the desk and and then another, no more than six feet away from his desk. She was wearing light-colored tights, the soles soiled and worn, a hole revealing a portion of a big toe. Dirt outlined the imprint of her feet.
Her legs crossed before her, Miranda nonchalantly wiggled her toes while giving her work her undivided attention. The stale smell which had invaded his nostrils the previous day suddenly intensified, becoming more pungent, sharper. Jon turned to Rachel to see if she’d just registered the same foul stench, but Rachel, not more than eight feet away from Miranda’s smelly feet, appeared to be unfazed, busy typing away at her computer. How would she not notice a powerful odor like that?
Uninclined to say anything, Jon covered his nose with his hand and attempted to return to work. But the smell of her dirty feet was impossible to ignore, even with a hand over his nose. Jon glanced over to Miranda. She was smiling at him.
“Hope my feet aren’t bothering you?” she asked, clearly amused.
Jon, caught off guard by the question, stammered a response. “Hmmn? Oh no … not at all.”
“So then you don’t mind me airing my feet out here do you? They get so hot and sweaty in my boots.I apologize for the smell but I’m a hard working woman.”
“At least I don’t take my shoes off at work,” interjected Rachel, still busy typing.
“You wouldn’t dare,” replied Miranda with a laugh.
“Well, maybe I should,” said Rachel with a smile, turning away from the computer. “You don’t seem to mind stinking up the place.”
Rachel pulled a chair back and swung her feet onto the desk just has Miranda had done. She was wearing a ratty pair of sneakers without socks.
“I dare you to take them off,” declared Miranda.
“Oh, yeah?” mused Rachel. A moment passed before she used one foot to pry a sneaker off and then another, revealing her sweaty, reddened soles. She wiggled her toes.
“Now that feels much better,” said Rachel as she leaned back in her chair.
A hot rush of musty, rank foot odor surged up Jon’s nostrils. It was the stench of old sneakers and aged sweat. He shuddered with disgust and instinctively covered his nose.
“Now see what you’ve done,” remarked Miranda. “Now the new guy has to smelly your stinky feet too.”
“Sorry for having feet,” remarked Rachel as she heedlessly stretched her feet before her, wiggling her toes sensuously.
A couple of the other women — Roberta and Kathy –in the office approached, sporting broad grins.
“Trying to scare off the new guy?” asked Roberta. “He’s the only male working here.
“I don’t think he cares for Rachel’s stinky feet,” said Miranda.
The topic of conversation was embarrassing Jon. It was hard enough to endure the smell of their smelly feet without having to be asked his opinion on the matter.
“I hope he’s not going to complain,” said Kathy. “You remember what happened to the last guy who complained about Rachel’s feet?”
“You’ll never guess what we did,” said Miranda to Jon with a knowing wink. Jon smiled blankly and shook his head. He was afraid to find out.
“Well, he was kind of insulting about it … saying her feet were foul and disgusting. So rather than let Rachel feel bad, we just helped her get a little payback for the rude comments about her feet. Call us sensitive but we can’t tolerate a man telling us our feet stink, as if a woman wasn’t permitted to have stinky feet.”
A tense moment passed before Kathy burst into laughter, shortly followed by a few of the others.
“Well, we made him smell her sweaty feet … up close,” remarked Miranda with a laugh. “Her feet were so sweaty they practically stuck to his face.”
Jon’s smile vanished. Was this some kind of joke?
“We held him down on the floor so Rachel could do her thing,” continued Miranda. “You know, rub her nasty feet all over his face. We even put one of her dirty, crusty socks in his mouth to gag him just to make sure he was smelling her nasty feet. he must’ve smelled her feet for twenty minutes or so.”
“He squirmed like you wouldn’t believe,” added Roberta. “But there were enough of us to hold him there until Rachel finished. Boy, was he furious.
“The moment we let him go, he cussed us out, called us bitches … well,
that did it,’ continued Miranda. “So we got some rope from my car, and tied
him up. This time we were really going to teach him a lesson for being so
ungentlemanly and do a number on him.”
“Then we made him smell everyone’s feet,” added Kathy with a giggle. “We raunched him pretty good.”
“He must’ve been smelling our feet for about two hours or more,” explained Rachel. “But I wasn’t the only one with ripe feet,” she added, placing a hand on Miranda’s shoulder.
“True,” replied Miranda. “My feet stink. But I made him sniff them real good. Right under my toes. he deserved it though. He acted as if we didn’t have the right to have sweaty feet.”
Affecting a whiny voice she said “oooh, your feet stink.””Yeah, well take this,” she added holding out her foot.
“But if you washed them more often and changed your tights, your feet wouldn’t be so smelly,” offered Roberta.
“Yeah, whatever,” replied Miranda.
“So my advice ,” said Kathy. “Don’t criticize the way Rachel’s feet smell unless you don’t mind letting her use your face as a footstool. And that goes for Miranda as well.”
The others broke into laughter; and observing Jon’s look of apprehension, laughed ever harder.
The women dispersed, leaving Jon to ponder the meaning of the conversation. Miranda and Rachel, their dirty stinking feet still resting on their desks, busied themselves with their work. So Jon, in an attempt to also give work his undivided attention, covered his nose with his hand and turned to his computer console.
For the remainder of the week, it was business as usual. Jon adjusted to life at the new office. He’d even begun to develop something of a crush for Miranda, despite the nauseating odor of her feet. It was as if she, along with Rachel, flaunted their foot odor, as if it were a status symbol. Strange.
He wanted to sit closer to Miranda, come to know her better. But the very thought of getting any closer to her raunchy foot smell turned his stomach. Regrettably, six feet was as close as he wanted to get to her ripe “dogs.” So he would chat with her from a distance.
He dared not mention anything about her feet, should that story about forced foot smelling be true. He’d heard about raunching but wasn’t familiar with it. He wouldn’t risk offending either Miranda or Rachel.
And if the smell got too much to bear, he would either cover his nose or take a walk. The smell was the only drawback to the entire situation, so he was willing to let it go and avoid a potentially unpleasant predicament.
On one such walk, Miranda, now wearing a pair of high heel loafers without pantyhose, approached him from behind.
“I hope you’re not trying to get away from my feet,” she asked with a smile, taking him completely by surprise.
“No. Not at all. Just … restless.”
“Me too,” she replied. “You know, Jon, we’re having a party here after work. Just some of the girls. I’d love for you to join us. It would be nice to have a little testosterone around.”
Jon was flattered to have been personally invited. “There were some errands I needed to run, but that can wait, I guess.”
“It’s Friday, after all. Have a little fun. Besides it would be nice having a man around at one of our office get-togethers.”
“Happy to oblige.”
“You’re a nice guy, Jon. I mean you haven’t even said anything about my feet. You haven’t even made a face.”
Jon didn’t know what to say.
“So, you’ll stay?” she asked, sidling up to him seductively and giving his arm a squeeze. “Keep a girl company?”
“Yes, of course.”
Miranda beamed before turning and walking away.And so the work day drew to a close and most of the employees at the ad agency went home, all but for Jon, Miranda, Rachel, and several other women from the department including Kathy, Alissa, Roberta, Tara, Gwen (the department head) and Natalie, another executive.
A wine bottle was opened, food was ordered and the group began to talk and laugh. It was a chance for everyone to come to know Jon, so he fielded questions from all of them.
“Boxers or briefs,” asked Kathy with a giggle, causing Jon to blush.
“Alright,” said Miranda, coming to his rescue. “Enough questions. Next you’ll be asking him if he’s circumcised or not.”
The others laughed at this.
“Inquiring minds want to know,” added Kathy, still amused by her recent line of questioning.
“It’s time to play a game,” said Miranda, walking to her desk and opening a drawer. “Twister, anyone?”
Everyone cheered as she brought out the plastic game board and unrolled it onto the floor. “Who wants to play with me,” she asked.
Jon was about to spring forward, a ready and willing volunteer; but, just then, pried off her loafers with her hands and jumped onto the plastic sheet with her bare feet (flecked with chipped black nail polish). As the hot pungent scent of her sweaty feet found his nose, he turned away.
‘I’ll play,” declared Rachel, bouncing up from her seat, kicking off her sneakers and stepping on the game board. As Miranda and Rachel paced about the plastic sheet, their feet stuck to it. They had to peel the plastic from their feet every few seconds.
“Those feet are rank,” remarked Tara holding her nose. “I’m not playing until you put your shoes on.”
“Same here,” added Roberta, looking equally disgusted. “I’ll use the spinner,” she declared, taking it in her hand and then taking a seat nearby.
“You don’t wear shoes,” said Rachel.
“Fine. Suit yourselves,” said Miranda. “You don’t have to play. At least
Jon doesn’t mind the smell. He’ll play.” Miranda gestured him over with her hand.
Jon hesitated, but he couldn’t refuse her. Unable to think of a decent excuse, he stood up and approached the game board. As he took off his shoes and stepped onto the board, he was engulfed by the heady, stale aroma of unwashed feet. He tried not to breathe through his nose but the smell always managed to penetrate his nostrils.
As Roberta spun the wheel, the game begun. And one by one, the three players occupied places with their feet. By the third round, the game become more acrobatic, and first Miranda and then the others stretched to place their hands on circles.
“Rachel. Red,” barked Roberta. Jon, on all fours, glanced about the board. The only available red was just in front of him. And shortly, Jon’s fears were realized. Rachel slid her greasy, reeking foot into the very spot, barely a couple of feet away from his face. She flexed her toes.
“Jon. Blue.” Jon had to move a hand from one color to another further away. Extending his reached forced him closer to Rachel’s smelly feet. The cheesy, sour smell was sickening and we was trying not to notice it.
“Miranda. Green. ”
Well, it only got worse because Miranda then slid her pungent -smelling foot onto a spot just next to Rachel’s foot, and perilously close to his face. But it was her knee which she’d placed on the sheet, not her foot, which lay suspended about six inches from the floor, and perhaps about twelve inches away from his face.
“Can I use my knee?” She asked.
“I guess so,” was Roberta’s reply. The others seemed to be amused by something because he heard a few half-stifled giggles.
Miranda wiggled her sweaty toes, apparently oblivious to their proximity to Jon’s face. He could not help but gaze at her wrinkled dirty sole which occasionally came dangerously close to his face. She’d been wearing those tight high-heel loafers all day without pantyhose, and so her feet produced a pretty sharp and musty odor.
“What’s so amusing?” asked Miranda.
“Oh, I just hope your feet are clean,” replied Tara. “For Jon’s sake.” More giggles and vocal laughter.
Miranda turned, noticing how close her foot was to Jon’s face. She chuckled. “Oh, they stink. But Jon doesn’t mind that.” Having said that, she playfully brushed her smelly upturned foot against his face. “He’s sweet.”
A few of the women groaned in mock disgust at Miranda’s forward gesture.
Jon stomached it but still said nothing about the unsavory smell.
A few more rounds took place and Jon, encouraged to use his face on one of the available spots, did just that. He figured by pressing his face against the plastic, he would no longer have to smell the heady foot odor. But another move compelled him to twist to his side.
Two more rounds. “Rachel. Blue.” Rachel brought one of her stinking bare feet onto a post adjacent to his face. With only her heel on the mat, she held the sole of her foot towards his face, flexing her grubby toes. Jon was close enough to make out the hardened flesh on her heel and a few specks of sneaker dirt on the ball of her foot.
There were a few chuckles form the others. And even when Rachel slipped, bringing her foul foot within a hair’s breadth of his face, he said nothing. Accompanied by giggling, she returned her foot to the proper space.
With Jon’s turn, he was forced to leave another spot vacant directly in front of his face.
Miranda’s turn came. And, once again, Jon’s worst fears were realized. She brought her sticky, smelly foot into the mat just in front of him. But her position forced her to place the top of her foot on the mat, leaving the slightly soiled sole of her foot within inches of his face.
Jon struggled to turn his face away, but he couldn’t. He then noticed Miranda’s toes sliding ever so slightly closer to his face. Quite unawares, he caught a quick whiff and was stunned by the sheer power of the abominable smell. It wasn’t so much the nature of the cheesy odor but the strength of it which threw him. Her sweat glands in her feet must have been working overtime.
Whether by accident or not, Miranda’s foot quickly slid over to his face. Her toes wedging themselves just under his nose, which he’d been resting against the floor. She wiggled her toes, one of them brushing against his nostril. Believing this to be no accident, he raised his head.
“I can’t do this. Your feet stink.”
The laughter suddenly broke into a series of “uh oh’s” and concerned “ooohs”; as if Jon had just insulted Miranda. But he was just speaking his mind. It wasn’t fair to torment him like this. He had to say something.
Miranda, visibly tensed, stood up. “Is that so?” Rachel stood up as well.
Miranda then climbed on top of Jon, pushing him onto his back. She sat on his chest.
Jon, not thinking he was in any danger, attempted to treat the situation as an occasion for good-natured ribbing. “There’s nothing wrong with having smelly feet.”
“Oh,” said Miranda glaring at him forbiddingly. Rachel, smiling, crouched down near his head.
“So they stink, do they?”
“Well, they’re not so bad.”
“So they don’t stink. Well, which is it? Or will you have to smell them again?”
Miranda gave Jon no time to answer before raising one of her bare feet and pressing it onto his face, sliding her toes over his nose and squeezing.
“Here. Have another whiff.”
The others were laughing and had already crowded around.
Jon pushed her foot from his face, practically forcing Miranda to lose her balance. But just as he attempted to push her off of him, Rachel grabbed his hands and two of the others threw themselves onto his legs. Someone else grabbed hold of his head.
Miranda, evidently put-out, positioned herself on his chest and raised both of her stinking feet onto his face. She began to slide her moist, warm sweaty feet all over his face. “I don’t like people telling me my feet stink. And if I want to rub my feet in your face, then that’s what I’m going to do.”
The others cheered her on. “Give it to him,” he heard, as well as. “Rub them all over,” and “Make him smell them.”
“Now smell my feet, and when you’re done, you’ll apologize and tell me how fresh they smell.”
With her dirty toes clenched over his nose, she pressed the ball of her foot up against his nostrils.
Rachel, holding his arms out above his head, slid her feet along his face and placed them onto his shoulders. Not only was he being directly assaulted by Miranda’s pungent, sour feet, but he couldn’t mistake the ratty sneaker stench of Rachel’s unmanicured size 9 1/2’s.
Try as Jon might to throw these women off him, he couldn’t. There were too many. And they laughed at his futile attempts to avoid the humiliation of having a woman rudely rub her rank feet in his face, sliding her toes against his nostrils.
“Let’s get the rope, and do this properly,” suggested Miranda. Within seconds, someone tossed her some rope which she then tossed over to Rachel. She also handed some rope to someone behind her. “We’ll tie him up near the table legs over here and there. He’ll be spread eagle. Then it’ll be easier to make him smell our feet.”
“Our feet,” asked Tara with a chuckle. “You mean you want us to rub our feet in his face too?”
“Don’t you want to?”
“Sure. Why not?” There were cheers. “It’s just some good, stinky fun.”
Rachel was busy tying rope around his wrists. “Great, So he can smell my feet. That’ll be interesting. Hope you can take it.”
Tara was more laughter as the women proceeded to attach his arms and legs to the tables.
“Hey Kathy,” asked Rachel. “Want to see if he wears boxers nor not?”
“You mean take his pants off?” asked Kathy.
“How else do you expect to find out?” Rachel’s explanation was followed by hooting and whistling. “We should let the executives do the honor of pantsing him.”
Gwen stepped forward and smiled, as did Natalie.
Though Miranda continued to torment Jon with her cheesy feet, sliding her dirty, wrinkled soles over his face and unmercifully wiggling her stinking toes over and under his nose, he couldn’t help but overhear this new brand of mischief. How could they want to humiliate him like this? He was determined to get free.
Jon jerked himself free of Miranda’s feet, throwing Alissa from off his chest. But the women were too quick for him, throwing themselves upon him and drawing the rope tight about his wrists and ankles. It was a struggle, but despite Jon’s strength, he was no match for seven determined women.
“Stop it,” yelled Miranda as she attempt to hold his head still with her feet.
Miranda used her feet to hold his head down to the floor, covering his face completely with her sweaty size 9 1/2’s, while Rachel and the others pulled the rope around the table legs, stretching him such that he could barely move. Even shaking his head was futile because Miranda held onto his face tightly with her feet. There was nothing he could do to prevent Miranda from cupping her toes over his nose, practically sticking them up his nostrils.
“You’re not going anywhere,” explained Rachel, slightly out of breath. “Just for that, we’re going to strip you naked.” More cheers.
He could feel hands grabbing at his pants, and when Miranda’s feet weren’t covering his eyes, he could see Gwen and Natalie gleefully unzipping his pants and sliding them down his legs, to the merriment of all. “Briefs. That’s new.”
“Want to see if he’s circumcised or not?” asked Rachel with a chuckle.
Apart from the whistles and catcalls, nothing more was said. Gwen, the head of the department, took the liberty of completing his humiliation by grabbing hold of his briefs and yanking them free of his waist. “Circumcised. Just as I thought,” declared Kathy.
The room erupted into raucous laughter and cheering as Gwen brandished his underpants in the air. But then it all went dark as Miranda’s heels pressed into his eyes sockets and her toes clenched hold of his chin. He breathed and was reminded that this woman was casually rubbing her pungent, cheesy feet into his face. He couldn’t imagine a more humiliating fate, but there was little he could do. As Miranda ordered him to “smell my stinky feet,” and “Sniff harder,” he could do nothing but obey.
Rachel took Jon by surprise by sitting atop his chest. He gasped for air, and breathed in a huge noseful of Miranda’s heady foot odor. It was a sickeningly earthy smell, of fruit and cheese. And with Rachel on his chest, each breath was a struggle. Every breath intense. “You’re going to smell our feet until you stop complaining and learn to take it like a man,” was Rachel’s explanation.
He detected the smell of rancid old sneakers, and then the explanation came to him. He could feel Rachel’s warm toes brushing against his cheek, just as Miranda was pressing her toes over his nose. Rachel’s warm, slightly calloused feet slithered over his mouth , and it was then that the full impact of her sour, vinegary feet hit him. Miranda pulled her feet away to allow Rachel to press her stinking toes up against Jon’s nostrils. He could feel her toenails scrape against his nose.
Just then, Rachel rose into the air and then pushed herself onto his chest, causing him to gasp for air again. Jon breathed in hard, and was nauseated by the sharp, cheesy stench from under Rachel’s toenails. Rachel rubbed in the humiliation by wiggling her toes and then clutching hold of his nose with one set of dirty, grubby toes. “have a good whiff of those,” said Rachel, jumping up and down on his chest as if she were riding him. And as Jon’s intake of breathes grew audible, the others began to chuckle.
“Damn, he’s really smelling them,” said Kathy.
What with Miranda’s and Rachel’s feet on his face, it was a full bouquet of foot odor, like dry sweatsocks and well-worn shoes and especially old foot sweat. It was so intense, he could feel his eyes beginning to water.
“Someone give me something to put in his mouth,” asked Rachel as she let her toes play over and under his nose, and giving him ample opportunity to sniff under her unpedicured toenails.
Kathy giggled as she began to roll her tights off. To everyone’s amusement, she dangled them over Jon’s nose, the toe ends brushing against his nose. Rachel and Miranda easily held his head in place, as Kathy scrunched up her tights and then pressed them over his nose.
Taking a whiff herself, Kathy wrinkled her nose. “Ooh, they stink,” she declared. Everyone laughed. “Well, you’ve been wearing those hose all week,” added Miranda.
As Rachel jumped onto his chest again, Jon involuntarily opened his mouth. And as he did so, Kathy took her smelly tights and stuffed them into his mouth. Everyone cheered. But try as he might, he could spit them out, especially with Rachel’s foot over his mouth.
“Now it’s time to do some serious foot smelling,” remarked Rachel as she returned her toes to Jon’s nose as did Miranda. Two pairs of feet slid and squirmed freely over his face, alternately giving his nose affectionate squeezes and ordering him to take a deep breath. Oh, he couldn’t imagine who had more disgusting-smelling feet, Miranda or Rachel.
“Who’s next?” And so Kathy took Miranda’s place, eagerly pressing her warm, sweaty and calloused size seven’s onto his face. The odor wasn’t as potent as Miranda’s or Rachel’s but it was a cloying and sickeningly pungent aroma, more subtle but just as foul. And one by one, Tara with her size 10 stocking feet, Roberta with her size 7 1/2 hosed feet, Gwen and her sweaty bare 9 1/2’s, Alissa and her size 7’s and Natalie and her size 8 1/2 took turns rubbing their stinking feet into his face and having Jon breath in every pungent inch. The women laughed and took pleasure in forcing him to sniff under their toenails, and to smell inside their reeking sneakers and high heels. Stockings and socks were rubbed in his face, and dirty, slimy toes clutched at his nose and wiggled against his nostrils.
Jon was humiliated but there was no more fight in him.
“O.K. Do you want to go, Jon?” asked Miranda. There were protests from the others. “No, not yet,’ said Tara who was just then playing footsies with his much abused face. “We’re just getting started.”
“Tell you what, Jon. If you can prove to us that you’re sorry for being ruse and if you’re willing to do as you’re told, we’ll let you go.”
Jon couldn’t imagine what Miranda had in mind, but all he wanted to do was leave, to push these stinking, cheesy feet off his face and get the hell out of there. He was willing to do what it too, and nodded accordingly.
Miranda, smiling, pulled the tights from his mouth and tossed them aside. “Now be a good boy and lick my feet.”
Miranda held her dirty, wrinkled sole over his face; and as Jon contemplated the dirt on her heel and on the ball of her foot, his stomach began to turn. As if smelling her
ripe toes was bad enough, now he’d have to taste them?
“If you want to bring this to an end, I’d suggest you start licking.”
Jon swallowed and mustered up the courage to begin the unappealing chore. He couldn’t bare to look at her filthy feet, so he closed his eyes; and as Miranda pushed the hardened flash of her heel against his mouth, Jon began to lick. They were sour, vinegary and tart; but it wasn’t the foul taste so much as the fact that he was licking someone’s dirty, stinking feet which humiliated him the most.
“Taste like they’re well past their sell by date, huh?” remarked Rachel with a chuckle. Others mirrored her amusement.
“Now that’s how you treat a man,” explained Miranda. “Make him lick your dirty feet clean.” Others applauded and cheered.
Jon attempted to ignore the remarks; he just wanted to go home and the sooner he licked her feet clean the sooner he could leave.
It took Jon ten minutes to lick and scrape off the dirt from the soles of Miranda’s smelly feet; and despite the fact that he’d licked every vinegary inch, her feet still smelled strong.
Miranda’s feet were soon replaced by Rachel’s oily and grimy bare feet; and once again he began the arduous chose of licking the heels and the soles and in between the toes. As he sucked on the balls of her feet, the sour, acrid aroma of sneakers was overpowering. She laughed and told him exactly where to lick: “Suck on my heel,” “In between my toes,” “keep licking, they’re still dirty.”
And so one by one, the women took turns, some of them sliding their dry, musty stocking feet into his mouth and others their filthy feet. “Nothing beats a good foot licking,” remarked Alissa as she relished getting her toes licked and her heels sucked.
An excruciating hour passed, and Jon was degrading himself without even realizing it. He was simply following orders and the women thrilled at having him obey every one. “You’re doing a great job,” said Miranda. “We didn’t expect you to be so obedient, but you’ve earned your freedom. I forgive you for telling me my feet stink. Just don’t do it again.”
At Miranda’s request, the women reluctantly untied him; but he lay there, his pants around his ankles, unable to move. He’d been smothered by stinking feet for hours and now it was over.
“If you want to stay, we’d be more than happy.” Others cheered.
Jon surprised himself by not moving, and as Miranda returned her smelly feet it his face, sliding her toes over his nose, he took a deep intake of breath. He didn’t mind it anymore.
Miranda grinned. “I think we made a footboy of him, girls.” The others cheered.
“Our first footboy,” declared Alissa. “Now we can start that footclub, and invite our friends over for some raunchy good fun.”
“Yep,” continued Miranda as she affectionately rubbed her feet over Jon’s face, “things are going to change around here. Now that we have a man who knows his place.”
Jon found something in being the center of so much attention; and it was such an intense experience, smelling so many stinking, rank feet that to leave now would be as much of a shock as it was to have the first malodorous foot pushed onto his face. The women removed his clothes, pulling his pants free of his feet, and began to rub their feet all over his body. Feet slithered up his legs and over his chest. And women fought for the honor of sliding Jon’s nose between their toes.
And it was in this fashion that a foot club was born; and Jon became the first official footboy, or office boy as he was called. The rest is history.
And so, until we hear from Miranda Stinkfoot again, she passes once again into myth.
This story is taken from:
Special thanks to: Byron