Nestled within the rural mountains, Ostrom Community College prided itself on being a sanctuary of the Arts. Many regarded it as the “Stonecutter’s Library” due to the wide range of techniques passed down through a variety of creative disciplines. Students whose applications were approved became jewels of the Stonecutter, their minds and bodies thoroughly sharpened until they could surpass even the greatest of greats. Yet on a moonlit December evening, one such jewel found herself distorted in the anguish of a mental haze, her body hunched over a desk at the frustration of a seemingly insurmountable endeavor.
Geraldine Satyr was a second year literature student. One of her autumn exams was a take-home prompt in which she was to convey the emotions of something abstract, something nonhuman. Crucial were the conveyances of sensory awareness and object-environment interactions; but to actually pass the course, she would also need to correlate the abstraction with some deep-seated truth about the human condition.
She had been given the assignment over a week ago, yet with three days to the deadline, she had yet to find a suitable object to write about. Perhaps a part of her simply found the idea itself ridiculous and beyond her. Did that make her a failure as a writer? Geraldine traced her fingers lazily along the mess of papers which littered her desk. She was about to close her eyes when a sudden knocking caused her to bolt upright, some of the papers sliding through the air toward the floor.
“Just a second!” As she rushed to pick up the spilled materials, her long black hair swished from side to side, bangs partially obscuring a pair of violet eyes. When she was satisfied with her attempt, she bounded over to the door, only to be met by her dorm neighbor, Tabitha Reyes.
“Geraldine! You and I should go drinking together!” Tabitha had pursued dance from a young age, and the strict regimens of the institution further shaped her body until she was taut like the strings on a violin. She was dressed in a pink leotard, silver tights, and pink ballet flats. The thick aroma of sweat signaled that she had just come straight from an evening practice.
“Sorry, but no thanks.” With that, the aspiring writer slammed the door and returned to her desk. The knocking, however, proceeded to get more intense.
“Little bitch, little bitch, let me in! I know you secretly want to get away from that project of yours! Can’t you avoid being a shut in for once in your life!?”
“Oh for tit’s sake,” gritted Geraldine as she opened the door again. “What do you want, Tabitha!?”
“Booze, Geraldine! Al-Co-Hol!” The gymnast’s exuberance was something she had grown to accept as the norm, but tonight it only served as an irritation. “Come on, there’s a wine tasting being held in the student union. You deserve this!”
The writer sighed and leaned her arm against the door frame. “As absolutely riveting as that sounds, I can’t leave my desk for fear that once Dead Week is over, my life will cease to exist.”
“That bad, huh?” Tabitha moved under Geraldine’s arm and into the small dorm room. With a graceful spin, she plopped butt-first onto Geraldine’s bed, lifting her legs and curling her flexible flats in a teasing fashion. “Why not let the Rose Quartz Queen soothe your sorrows, honey?”
Such was the title which many had used when addressing Tabitha. Within her lay an essence that compelled others to seek out her comfort, and Geraldine was no exception to this as she closed the door. Kneeling on the edge of the mattress, she slipped off Tabitha’s ballet flats and pressed her face into the sweaty soles and toes which rested beneath those silver tights.
“Ugh, you speak of alcohol but I’m positive I could get drunk off your feet alone.” Her moans sent tender vibrations into the tights, and Tabitha responded by pushing her toes into Geraldine’s mouth. The young writer felt shivers radiate from her core before slowly pulling the toes away. “I can’t find the right medium for my human condition project. It’s just eluding me for some strange reason!”
As Tabitha felt the ticklish sensations, she had to stifle a few giggles. “Well, why don’t we take it from the top? You told me before that it needs to be an item. Does this item have the ability to see, to hear, to taste, to smell, or to touch?”
“I suppose it would rely on touch most often, though maybe also smell and taste? To be honest, it should be able to invoke all senses simultaneously…”
“That’s certainly a start.” Tabitha traced her toes along Geraldine’s lips until they once again slipped inside. “Oooh, that feels good! Now, does this item feel pleasure or pain from these sensations?”
Geraldine slurped her friend’s toes for several seconds, whimpering provocatively all the while. By the time she finally let go, her face was a deep shade of ruby. “It’s like a torture, an ecstasy to the point of agony. Maybe it’s an addiction…”
“This object must be quite provocative…” With incredible dexterity, Tabitha used the toes of her other foot to separate the fabric of Geraldine’s blouse. Swiping away the bra, she then began to rub Geraldine’s bare breast with her dirty, tights-clad sole. “When the agony is too much to bear, what happens then?”
“That’s just it; there is no breaking point! It just builds and builds as if it would result in madness, but the madness never comes!” As she arched her chest into the foot that pleasured her, Geraldine kissed down the opposite sole, savoring the scent which could only come from an athlete like Tabitha. “The true agony… is being unable to break at all…”
“Oh fuck, I’ve never heard of something so sublime!” Tabitha was clearly getting into things when a burst of inspiration overtook her. “I think I have a perfect answer to your object dilemma. In fact, I think it would solve both of our problems at once!”
Tabitha began to speak in an ancient language. Geraldine, still clutching the foot closest her nose, simply stared in confusion until suddenly, her body froze. Confusion quickly became fear as a powerful heat assaulted her skin, filling her mind with insatiable, almost painful arousal. What’s happening to me!? Why can’t I speak!?
The heat continued to rise as Geraldine watched her body melt before her. Her shape eroded away, her essence distorted and stretched like chewing gum. Any pain was quickly replaced with inhuman pleasure, appropriate since to her, what she had become could in no way be called human. She had never experienced something like this, yet her anxieties were soon overshadowed by something else entirely.
She could sense herself dripping into the ballet flats on the bed, the intense odor saturating molecule of her essence. That smell was soon joined by a taste, and then a texture as well. From there things got weirder, her mind flashing with visions of memories that were not her own. Her mind’s eye could see each and every time Tabitha had worn the flats: during practices, performances and even when Tabitha was simply lounging in her dorm. These sensations wove themselves into Geraldine’s soul, as if it had truly been her on Tabitha’s feet the entire time.
In these moments of transformation, there was a growing clarity as she began to understand how it felt to be simply a garment, a pair of shoes devoted to one wearer. In these moments, a true purpose and passion, a commitment to an aesthetic and an ideal, resonated within her very soul. The how and the why were unimportant. What mattered was she was now a pair of flats and that it felt natural to her, perhaps moreso than being human ever did.
Tabitha, of course, had no awareness of this as she grabbed the flats which were now her friend; slipping her feet into them gradually, trying to maximize the pleasure her friend might feel. “Sorry for springing this on you all of the sudden. I found the spell the other night while surfing the net, and I’ve just been itching to try it out! I’m sure you won’t mind though, given how much of a foot slut you are!” Turning the lights off behind her, Tabitha closed the door and locked it, clipping the key to her lanyard. Then she made her way to the dining hall, giggling all the while.
Geraldine might have been upset at Tabitha’s deception if not for the wonders she herself was experiencing in the meantime. Each soft step caused her to smell and taste both her friend and the ground around her. In spite of the filth, or perhaps because of it, she found herself thirsty for more. Every molecule of it became a sweet nectar for her sex-addled mind, and the weight of her wearer – all muscle of course – continued to press down like the ultimate massage.
The wine which flowed down Tabitha’s throat soon radiated throughout her body, intermingling with her sweat which would then seep into Geraldine’s essence. The pair of living flats found herself growing more and more delirious, a flurry of conflicting emotions and ideals. I feel so symbiotic… It’s like I’m cleaning her, and in exchange feeling unspeakable pleasure. Is this what all clothing feels…? I need more. I need to be used. I need to be… broken…
If she could talk right now, Geraldine knew that she’d be moaning like a proper whore. As things stood, she couldn’t help but consider the irony. Tabitha was the only one who knew her secret obsession with feet, yet here we was in a crowd of people and able to worship feet to her heart’s content! This is incredible… I never want this to end…
Her mind reveled in the sensory overload until the where and the when no longer mattered, all sentience temporarily lost. The next thing she knew, she was in Tabitha’s room, the occupant having thrown herself onto the bed and passing out. The sensations had lessened just enough to bring her back, and she found herself existing on her sleeping friend’s feet, lost in her own mind.
She remembered faintly the words which euphoria had caused her to utter. Could she stay a pair of flats forever? Sure, if there was a spell which could keep her like this, it probably could be extended indefinitely. However, to give up her human form would be like a death to the rest of the world. Nobody, save for Tabitha, would ever know what happened to her; and even Tabitha might be incredibly heartbroken by such deeply held convictions, regretting ever having committed the spell in the first place.
But… do I even care what others think? It was true that people considered her to be quite talented, but that alone failed to placate the emptiness she felt in the depths of her soul. The choices in her life were always dictated by the whims of others, her very definition coined by the actions others felt would be best for her. Why did she slave over an education, anyway? She could just as easily drop out and become a true slut or porn star. It might cost her some of that respect, but she would gain a means to paint her own picture of identity, and that’s what she wanted more than anything.
Geraldine could feel Tabitha’s toes curling every time the girl tossed and turned. The sensations, combined with rubbing against Tabitha’s blankets, filled her with orgasmic bliss over and over. She had essentially become Tabitha’s prisoner, but at the same time, she had never felt more liberated. All through the night she embraced this new self, wanting to forget, if only for a brief period, of the reality which would eventually call her back.
As the dawn broke through the window, Tabitha rose with a hand clutching her aching head. “I should have had some water before bed…” The girl went to her closet to pull out a change of clothes, but then she stopped. As she remembered that Geraldine was still transformed, she decided to keep her existing attire, if only to push the living flats a bit further.
A few classmates took notice of the pungent smell, to which Tabitha explained she was conducting an experiment. During lecture, she sat far away from the rest of the students as to avoid being a distraction. Geraldine, meanwhile, was practically going insane. She hadn’t slept; every smell, taste and touch served to keep her awake and alert beyond anything a human could ever hope to tolerate. Being clothing seemed to separate her entirely from the physical processes of survival. Even breathing was optional, a privilege that allowed her to more deeply absorb her friend’s delectable odor, if nothing else.
With each passing hour, Geraldine further adjusted to the mannerisms of her wearer. She discovered that Tabitha had a habit of removing her flats halfway, then balancing them on her toes while doing her coursework. Each toe jostle sent another unique pleasure wave through Geraldine’s form, further wearing down her psyche. Mentally, Geraldine felt as if she were falling from a great height, but despite that, she couldn’t quite hit bottom.
The desire to break completely dominated her thoughts. She had stopped paying attention to the world around her, so self-absorbed that she failed even to notice Tabitha walking to the gymnasium for afternoon practice. As Tabitha began her warm-up, the heat and sweat cascaded in rhythmic pulses, which Geraldine allowed herself to peaceably acclimate to. As her mind emptied of all anxiety and doubt, she further understood her identity as an object, as nothing more than a pair of seemingly lifeless flats, worn by the girl who she trusted – perhaps even loved – more than anyone else.
After practice, and day turned to night, Tabitha returned to Geraldine’s room. She removed the flats and placed them atop the bed. At the twenty-four hour mark, Geraldine’s liquid essence flowed out of the flats and her human shape again became her. She lay on the bed, her body and her clothes coated in a mixture of sweat and her own lewd juices. She lay there, staring at the ceiling and saying nothing.
At first, Tabitha giggled. “Looks like someone really enjoyed herself!” Met by silence, she started to grow worried. “Um… Geraldine?”
“Are… Are you mad at me?” This was clearly not what Tabitha had anticipated. “I mean, I tried it because I thought is was something you’d love! If I had known that you wouldn’t, then I… Geraldine, I am so sorry!”
“I never said I didn’t love it,” retorted the girl. “The problem… is that I loved it too much.” She sat up, starting at Tabitha with a mischievous grin.
Tabitha caught on rather quickly, flashing a grin of her own. “You know, there is a second component to that spell which would allow you to stay under for much longer. In fact, it would allow me to keep you under until I decide you should change back.”
“And if I don’t want to change back?” Geraldine pulled herself into Tabitha’s lap, eyes burning with desire.
“Oh, I don’t think either of us would mind that at all. But before I do, you should probably finish that assignment for your final.”
The two kissed – a deep and passionate one which lasted several moments – before Geraldine pulled back and gave a nod. “I won’t be long.” Moving to her desk, she rapidly scrawled three documents. The first: her emotional account of how being an object and being a human weren’t so different after all. The second: a note to the dean explaining that she would have to take the spring term off for personal reasons. Finally, she penned a list of all the things she wanted to try as flats, knowing it wouldn’t be nearly enough to satisfy her. Oh well. I have my whole existence to figure this out, anyway.
“Are you ready, Geraldine?”
“Yeah… I am.” And with that, she felt herself being molded by her lover’s spell, trapped within the flats once more; for how long would be anyone’s guess.