Foot Fetish Origins - Part 4

The one, singular benefit to being discovered was that she had brought me some water to make sure I didn’t go thirsty, along with some food since I hadn’t had anything to eat since breakfast. Except I couldn’t enjoy even those brief moments of rest, since she was nervous about having me sit up for even a few minutes to eat, not wanting any of her coworkers to come in and discover me. As soon as I had put the last of the sandwich in my mouth and washed it down with some water, she quickly took my napkin and cup away from me and hurriedly pushed me back down to the ground, rushing her feet back onto my face. And then once she had, she let out a sigh of relief, while I squirmed uncomfortably, trying to get reaccustomed to the smell and feel of her leathery soles.

But after another few hours, I heard a ding from my mom’s computer, and she looked at her notification to see that she had a meeting in 10 minutes, her last scheduled task for the day. She glanced out her window to make sure nobody was about to come into her oce, and then took her feet o my face and rolled her chair back, beckoning me to come out from beneath the desk where I’d been staying for so long. “Um… am I… is it time to leave?” I asked, sitting up and crawling out.

She sighed and grimaced, rubbing my shoulder encouragingly as I stood up. “Not quite yet honey. Just two more hours left in the day though so we’re almost there! But I have a meeting that we need to get to.” I arched my back and twisted back and forth; the sti carpet had really messed with my spine, and this was the first chance I was getting in nearly 6 hours to finally stretch my body a bit.

“So are you gonna leave me here then?” I asked, and she shook her head. “I don’t wanna risk someone coming in here while I’m gone, that’s why you’re gonna be coming with me to the meeting.” She saw in my eyes as I began to worry again, fearful for the next few hours. Even though she hadn’t said it yet, I was still smart enough to realize from her tone that the last couple hours of the day would be looking (and smelling) just like they had up to this point. She felt bad about how worried I seemed to be, and gave me an encouraging hug, rubbing my back sympathetically before standing up and pushing her chair in. “I know you don’t like it sweetie, but we’re almost at the end of the day, and then I’ll buy you as much ice cream from Cold Stone as you want, whatever flavor and toppings and anything.” I perked up a little at that; we didn’t go out for ice cream that often, and when we did, I almost never got to get any toppings or special cones. “Mkay?” she asked, seeing that it had alleviated a bit of the tension, and took my hand in hers, heading towards her door. She quickly hurried us out of her oce and towards the stairs back down to the first floor. In her mind, she was hoping that since most of the people who would pass by her oce were upper level employees, none of the junior workers would know that she’d been hiding her son in her oce and would’ve probably assumed I’d been hanging out there in a normal fashion. They’d already seen me come in with her at the start of the day, but Kali and the other department heads had been unaware of my presence. But all that being said, there was still a risk that one of her bosses would pop by the meeting. So she still wanted to hide me again like she had in her oce, and just hoped that none of her writers at the meeting would question anything. Ushering me into the room, she explained her point of view, and told me to hide under the table. And being the trusting son that I am, I obeyed, getting back down on my knees and crawling beneath the table to where she wanted me. With my little body now mostly out of sight, she opened up the blinds of the meeting room and started setting up the projector for when everyone arrived.

After a couple minutes, the door opened again, and in came two women, both looking like they were in their 20’s: Julie and Elizabeth. “Good afternoon you two,” my mom said, sitting down in her chair at the head of the table, and motioned to two of the seats near her. “Have a seat,” she oered with a smile. As they took their seats, the door opened again, and in popped another relatively young woman named Katherine, who took a seat next to the other two. “Great, if everyone’s here then let’s begin,” my mom announced, and slipped o her shoes for the third and final time that day, planting them squarely on my face as she directed her attention to her coworkers while entrusting her feet to take care of me.

I was ashamed that I already felt like I’d gotten used to it, but that didn’t mean I hated the feeling any less. The stench of her soles and toes never grew fainter as time wore on; it only became stronger as the hours had progressed. But as much as I had anticipated all the ways that my mom’s feet might use me—clutching my nose between her toes, rubbing her arches against my cheeks, or drumming her heel against my lips—I hadn’t expected what she did soon after the meeting started.

Unbeknownst to me at the time, my mom phasing me out and forgetting about my presence for long periods of time was something that happened regularly whenever her brain was intensely focused on her work. So her feet were practically their own entity, and often times they would do things that my mom didn’t even register. So my mom’s generosity and inclination to share things were traits that had seemingly transferred to her feet considering the fact that after a short while, she lifted her feet o my face and planted her toes against my chin, before pushing me backwards and sliding my entire body away from her.

I almost gasped in surprise as my head ended up right beside Julie’s legs, just as she was slipping her own shoes o as well, a pair of brown Gucci loafers that she wore with pride. I braced myself to hear some the sound of someone freaking out above me, but all that happened was the oblivious girl settling her dainty little feet atop my face. Just as my mom had done, just as Kali had done. Most people go their entire lives without anyone sticking some feet in their face, and now she had been the third person just that day to do it to me. I could tell that her feet were smaller than average, but I was just a little boy, so everyone’s feet were sizable and annoying to me. And they were similar to my mom’s in that I could smell the leather of Julie’s shoes still crawling all over her feet as they rubbed against my face. At least 15, maybe 20 minutes passed, with the young writer continuously marking my face with her scent just like the other women of the oce had done. And all while I was still under my mom’s feet as well, except this time it was my chest beneath her soles since she’d passed her son along.

But then my mom’s feet dug into my chest again, and they slid my body along, without her or Julie even seeming to notice. They just kept on discussing articles for the issue a few months away, while Julie took my mom’s place in resting her feet on my chest as my mom’s soles had moved down to my thighs, and my head found itself deposited next to the second girl of the meeting, Elizabeth. She’d had her legs crossed for a while, and I watched for at least a couple minutes as her flats dangled right above me. But just as I was realizing that she was the first woman the whole day to give me more than a few seconds of fresh air at a time, the flat dropped onto my face, covering from my eyes to my mouth with the insole of her cheap, dirty shoe. And instead of picking her flat back up, I could hear her sigh overhead as her foot dropped down onto her sole, pressing it right up against my face as her legs switched positions. Her other leg now crossed onto the one that was positioned on my face, and all the weight of her legs and feet pressed firmly down into her shoe, covering my eyes and nose and mouth. It was like I had been jinxed by being grateful for a few temporary minutes of fresh air, since I now had the unwashed, dirty inside of her shoe pressed so close to my nostrils that she was flattening my nose. And I couldn’t see anymore throughout all of this, since the top of her shoe was covering my eyes. I could only smell the result of Elizabeth’s feet after years of using the shoe, along with the two other pairs of feet on my body.

The Elizabeth pitstop lasted for probably half an hour, before my mom’s feet decided to move me along one last time. Except this time when she pushed me, her foot pressed up against my dick, using the underside of my crotch as a foothold so that sliding me along was easier. But this was before I had developed my fetish for feet, so I only winced in pain as my mom’s foot squished my soft little penis through the fabric of my pants, before pushing me further down the line to the final woman.

Despite being an hour into the meeting, the last girl, Katherine, still hadn't taken o her shoes. Not until my head had bumped into her converse without her even realizing. But then her feet had unconsciously lifted up to make room for me, before they pried the shoes o of each other, letting loose the ripe, red, and stinking bare feet that had been contained within. And as she too set her feet against my tortured little face, I began to wonder if I was really just cursed. Literally. Because somehow, not a single one of the women, both of the three in the meeting, and Kali, and my mom from earlier this morning, had ever realized that there had been a boy, helplessly stuck beneath their feet, but too anxious to do anything about it himself.

That final hour of the day—and yeah, it lasted a full hour—consisted of what was the worst treatment of my body yet. Because not only did Katherine's decision to keep her sweaty feet in her raggedy converse result in a pair of foul and toxic set of soles that rivaled Kali's, but no longer was my face the only thing that women's feet were toying with. While Katherine rubbed her grimy toes and arches all around my nose and mouth, as if mocking my fragile senses, I had Elizabeth's feet patting my chest with the franticness of some kind of nervous tick, I had Julie's feet rubbing themselves dangerously close to my crotch, brushing against my penis every once in awhile, and I had my mom's large soles right on my ankles, as if reminding me that I wasn't allowed to go anywhere or let any of these women know of my existence beneath them. Every area of my body was played with by feet, and I felt more humiliated than I ever had in my life.

Eventually, the meeting finally did come to a close, and with it the day ended as well, which meant I finally was able to head home with my mother. But that day was just the first of many. My mom had had an epiphany after coming into work the next day without me, once I was back at school again, that she didn't feel as productive without her loyal, unquestioning son down beneath her. So every once in awhile, she'd bring me back to the oce for another full and uninterrupted day of women's feet using and abusing me. I would come to learn about the other writers besides Julie, Elizabeth, and Katherine, and how each of their feet were just a little bit dierent, all special and unique. I also learned just how frequently Kali liked to work out in the middle of the day, because every time her feet interacted with me, they were also sweaty, and freshly so. But most of all I learned just how important I would come to be to my mom, not just because of the joy I brought her as her only son, but because she realized over the course of many years to follow that I was a perfect match for her feet. No other kind of treatment or massage or person could do for her precious feet what I could do. And as I got older, I'd eventually learn to love it, and realize that the most important characteristic I was given in life was my submissive and unconditional loyalty to my mother, as her one and only human footrest.