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It was a really hot summer day. The sun beat down as hard as it could, so me and my best friend hung out inside her nice air conditioned bedroom. My name’s Blake, and I’m a nineteen year old high school graduate. Having not gone to college yet, I was able to spend a lot of my time going to friends’ houses. Tracy, my eighteen year old best friend, is one of those friends. The two of us have known each other since I was seven and she was six, and we have been inseparable ever since.
It was around 3:30 in the afternoon, the time of the day where the sun seemed to burn the brightest in the sky. Tracy and I had recently come back from jogging, so our hair was matted to our foreheads and our shirts were stained with sweat. The cool air of her room felt amazing after being in that 98 degree heat. The two of us sat comfortably on her bed.
We decided to play Super Smash Bros. for the Wii-U, an awesome Nintendo fighting game that was sort of a tradition to play. The character I always played the most out of, Samus, was getting the crap beaten out by Tracy’s main, Captain Falcon. I didn’t do a good job evading all of her attacks, and finally one Falcon punch sent me flying off of the stage and into oblivion.
“Darn,” I grumbled between shaky breaths. My final stock had been taken away, while Tracy still had two. “Another round. This time no items. Final Destination. This time I plan to win!”
“That’s what you always say!” Tracy laughed as we were sent back to the character select screen. I chose Robin, another character that I played a lot of, and she chose Luigi of all characters. “How about this time we make a bet. The loser has to do something super embarrassing.”
“Like what?” I asked, and the two of us sat for a moment in though. “How about...the loser has to smell the winner’s feet!”
“Eww, gross,” Tracy said, clicking start and going to select a stage. “You just gave me more of a reason to beat your ass.” Suddenly I was regretting opening my big mouth. Why would I even suggest something like that? Tracy was a lot better at these games than I was. For every twenty of her wins, I must have won twice. I refused to lose this time.
So the match began on Final Destination. Five stocks, no items. I was so terrified of losing that I escaped her every attack and jumped out of the way, but never even landed a single hit myself. I realized I couldn’t delay the match any longer so I began mashing the buttons, attempting to destroy Luigi. My plan didn’t work out like I had hoped. she was a lot better at evading attacks and countering. The match went on for several minutes. I was in a familiar spot, with her being at two stocks and me only having one. My damage was in the sixties. I had to beat her. I charged up my special attack and shot the beam of lightning towards her, sending Luigi flying into the air. I was quick to leap ahead, hit him with my sword, and send him flying off of the map.
As Luigi began to respawn above the ground, I took that moment to take a small breath. My eyes darted to Tracy’s shoes. Those old shoes she’s been wearing for over a year now. Inside those shoes were a filthy pair of socks and her smelly bare feet.
The thought of having to smell those feet up close made me gag. There have been times when she slipped out of her shoes, and almost instantly the putrid smell of her feet filled the room. It’s something I’ve had to tolerate for years.
With Robin and Luigi both with one stock remaining, the stakes were on. We each took turns pummeling each other, but since I had a higher damage, I was sent flying farther and farther with each hit. Finally, with one up-B move from the green plumber, I was sent skyrocketing, coming back down to slam into the camera and then fall down and disappear. The match was over.
“Ugh, are you kidding me!?” I dropped the controller and grabbed my head in anger.
“Hope you’re ready to smell these puppies,” Tracy said, holding back her laughter. “Get off the bed.” I did as I was told, hopping off of the bed. “On your knees.” Tracy was completely demanding. As I lowered myself onto my knees, I was scared of what was to come. Tracy remained seated at the edge of her bed. she lifted her feet up into the air, her shoes inches away from my face. I could almost smell them. “Take my shoes off, please.”
My hands trembled as I wrapped my fingers around the heel of her left shoe, grabbing it and slipping it off of her foot. The stench hit me immediately. I could feel my gag reflex start to act up. Out of pure instinct I dropped her shoe and went to cover my nose. Tracy saw what I was doing, yanked off her right shoe, grabbed my head with one hand, and with the other she held her shoe over my nose.
“Oh, GOD, your shoe reeks!” I grabbed her arm with both hands, but was unable to push her shoe off of my poor, helpless little nose. I had no choice but to inhale deeply. It was either that, or stop breathing entirely and suffocate. And I prefered smelling her putrid shoes over dying, any day.
After several seconds of that torture, she dropped her shoe and then extended her feet out towards my face. The socks she were wearing were short pink, girly socks. They might have been brighter at some other moment in time, but now they were dark, dirty, and damp with sweat.
Before leaning in to smell her socks, I asked, “Do I HAVE to?”
“Duh!” came Tracy’s response. “I’ve been wearing these socks for weeks now. The bet was for you to smell my feet, in all of their stinky glory. That includes my shoes and socks.” I could feel my face burning red with embarrassment. But I leaned forward anyway and pressed my nose against her right sock. I wanted to puke! I was unable to back away. Tracy was still grabbing the back of my head with one hand. she suddenly pressed her right foot onto my nose, squeezing my nose in between her disgusting toes.
“Your socks...are so...gross…” I managed to say in between forced sniffs. My lungs were filled with the disgusting aroma of Tracy’s smelly socks. I just wanted to get some fresh air! I got a second and a half of freedom when her right foot left my face alone, but the feeling was short lived when her left foot pushed against my face. “Ugh...mmphh…nasty…”
“How do my feet smell, Blake!?” Tracy asked, but I didn’t answer her. She already knew the answer. In response to my silence she pressed both of her feet against my face and rubbed them up and down. I couldn’t tell if my face was burning because of my embarrassment, or because of her hot and sweaty socks? she had been wearing her socks and shoes since she woke up in the morning, so they were really drenched in sweat. I was practically drowning in it! I could have taken her socks and wrung them out like a wet towel! “Hey, why don't you lay down?” Not wanting to argue, I laid down on the carpeted floor, looking upwards at Tracy as if she were a giant and I were an ant.
She got off of her bed and stood tall above me. she lifted up her left foot, grabbed at her sock, and tugged it off, throwing it off to the side. her foot crashed onto the ground beside my head. she did the same to her right sock, and then that foot landed on the other side of my head. “How much longer is this going to be? I don’t think I can take much more of this!” I called up to Tracy.
Tracy smiled mischievously down to me, lifted up her left foot, and pressed it against my chest, her big toe poking against my chin. “Let’s see how much more you can take before you pass out!” Tracy raised her right foot into the air and hovered it right over my face. My eyes darted from her heel to her toes. her bare foot was glistening with sweat, and nasty pink sock lint and dirt collected around her toes. The cheesy scent of her feet fumed downwards towards my nostrils. I didn’t know how much more I could take! Tracy lowered her foot, and her big toe pressed against my lips. she smeared her big toe around my lips, applying pressure, trying to shove it into my mouth. I tried my hardest not to let her.
She removed her left foot from my chest and instead suddenly pressed it against my nose. “Oh...yuck!” she squeezed my nose between her filthy toes, forcing me to inhale the sweaty stench. I didn’t move or fight back because I know that it would have been futile. While her left foot smothered me, her right foot continued fooling around with my lip, this time using her first three toes to try and pry my mouth open. “Mmmphh….stop...mmm…” I could barely speak. If my mouth opened even a little her toes would enter.
“Open wiiiiiiiide,” Tracy sang, pressing her toes harder against my lips and squeezing tighter on my nose. “Say ahhhhhhhhhh!”
“Mmmm...no….MMPPHH!!!” That was the end of it. Why was I stupid enough to say “no”? The second my mouth opened, I was greeted by the not-so-delightful taste of her sweaty toes. I had no choice but to slide my tongue along the surface of her sweaty toes as they entered my mouth. I gagged. My heart raced and beads of sweat (probably Tracy’s foot sweat) dripped down my face. I was smelling Tracy’s feet, as well as licking between her toes, for what felt like an hour but was most likely just a couple of minutes, when Tracy finally released me.
I gulped my first breath of fresh air. “Yuck...that was disgusting…” I rubbed my face with my shirt, trying to free myself from all of the nasty foot sweat. Tracy collapsed back onto her bed, laughing hysterically. When she stopped laughing she sat upright, lifted her legs into the air and wiggled her toes. I grimaced, staring at her feet in horror.
"Damn, that was fun!" Tracy cheered. "Maybe you can smell my feet every day!" The thought horrified me. She wouldn't really make me do this again... would she?
I've read this one before, but it's still terrific.
Feet dreams are made of stink...who are we to disagree?
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