This choice: "Uh, sure!" she replied, glad to let her feet get some R&R. • Go Back... "You know what? Sure. We have some time to kill, and I don't even remember the last time I got a foot rub outside of a spa. Haven't been to one of those in a while... Wish this stupid podunk town would was a bit closer to actual civilization..."
You let go of a breath you didn't even know you were holding. Jeez, that was close! And now you're closer than ever to giving Phyllis's feet the love they deserve. They're already in the perfect position for you, what with the counter-top being relatively low. Cracking your knuckles, you get to work.
Carefully wrapping your fingers around one of her yellow peds, you press your thumbs gently into its plush ball, and rotate them to work some kinks out (and satisfy your own!). As soon as you start, you can feel the tension in both the room and the grumpy pelican begin to dissolve. Even though you knew they looked different than an ordinary bird's claws, you really weren't expecting her feet to feel so soft. You don't know if you believe her when she says she hasn't been to a spa, because they're almost smoother than your own!
"Mmmh, a bit harder, please,"
You steadily increase the pressure, pushing deeper into her Phyllis's and loosening up some taught muscles. It's clear to you that she works harder than she likes to admit. Deep down, she must really care about getting people their mail. Or maybe she's telling the truth about that spa thing, you joke internally.
"A little, ah, lower," the clerk asked, grunting in relief with each little knot you work out of her soles. You smile softly and do as she says, sliding your hands down to her delicate instep. You lighten your pressing here, knowing that you could easily mess up and create some kinks here, defeating the whole purpose of the massage. Instead, you mildly prod at where her skin feels the firmest, digging in and carefully nudging the complex array of muscles apart. Phyllis groans appreciatively at the expertise you've put on display.
By the time you move on to her heel, the mail clerk has leaned back in her chair, eyes closed and breathing lax. Pushing hard into the toughest part of her sole, you eke a lewd moan out of Phyllis's mouth. She gasps and looks away in embarrassment while you chuckle quietly to yourself. Even as you leer at her luscious feet, lurid thoughts running rampant in your brain, you feel a sense of accomplishment at just how good of a job you've done pampering them.
A worrying notion breaks through the wall of perversity in your mind: you're pretty lucky that none of the night-owl villagers has come in for anything yet. If they caught you in such an intimate position with someone as rude and bossy as Phyllis, you might gain a reputation for being a pushover...
You stop and chastise yourself for thinking of her so negatively, and assuming she was so unpopular with other people. Though you haven't met them yet, you're sure the people of this town aren't so vapid as to judge someone on surface level attitudes alone. Overall, it's probably nothing to worry about...
You move on to the final part of the massage: primping the pelican's toes. Deciding to be a bit cheeky, you slowly, teasingly slide your fingers up the deep, prominent curves of her soles. She hums in appreciation, enjoying the feeling of your smooth skin against hers. That hum turns into hitched breaths and moaning when you rub your thumbs lovingly into the arch of a toe, kneading the pudgy flesh back and forth in a delicate rhythm. You lavish the other two toes with the same sensual massage, leaving Phyllis shivering in complete and utter bliss. Finally, you finish the rub, still gently wrapping your hands around the foot and sliding your fingers between her toes while you prepare for the next foot.
Suddenly, the pleased pelican speaks her mind to you. "You know, you're really good at this, bucko. If you learn a thing or two from that wily cheapskate Tom Nook, you could probably open up a massage parlor here," the pelican opens an eye, smiling wryly at you, "Or maybe you had that in mind already, and wanted some good publicity before you set up shop. Either way, you've got a happy customer right here."
You flush, both at the high praises from Phyllis and the idea of people waiting in line and paying you just to let you have a go at their feet for a while. You have to fight to keep yourself from drooling as images of cute, tired paws and claws all make their way into your hands, your nose, your mouth...
Coming back to the real world, you tense up, realizing that you haven't even started on the other foot. It was waving impatiently at you, obviously jealous of its counterpart. You move your hands, ready to begin pampering the other foot when...
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