The stale scent of corn chips ground into leather only grows as Marine tips her shoe closer to you. Goosebumps run up your back as you are given a closer look at the footwear. There were crinkles and small tears in the fabric. What little you could see of the rubber sole was covered in dirt. All of these things considered, it was pretty obvious that this raccoon was a very active individual. You curse you luck and look back one last time, hoping against hope that you might spark some iota of pity in the giant raccoon girl's mind, enough that she might just let you go. Unsurprisingly, this was not the case. In fact, she only seemed to grow more irritated at your hesitation. A gust of warm wind blew your way as she shifted a large, pudgy foot over to your position. Large, powerful toes rapped against the tongue of the shoe, and in an instant your world was completely blotted out by the menacing sight of her fuzzy sole. You yelp, and scramble your way past the heel of the tennis shoe.
Immediately, you could feel a stark difference in the atmosphere as you leap inside the tennis shoe. The air was uncomfortably hot and stuffy; it was almost like jumping into a rainforest. Marine laughs at your panic, and tilts the shoe back down, preparing to shove her foot right in. "There ya go, small fry. Hope you payed attention in insole school, 'cause ya sure ain't riding a thong!"
You shout at the unexpected movement and trip into the middle of the massive, pronounced footprint that covered most of the insole. You gasp as you faceplant into the moist, musky surface. Your tongue unfortunately dragged against it, inviting a potent mouthful of dried sweat onto your taste buds. Gagging, you attempt to wipe your away the sour taste, but the terrain shifts further, and you tumble down to the end of the shoe, smacking your face down into the sweaty fabric over and over again as it revisits your mouth for seconds, thirds, and fourths.
Eventually, you stop rolling as your body lands in the toe section. The world is spinning around from that little trip you took, but it slowly settles down after a moment. Just as you think you might get a moment of peace, however, you feel your surroundings rumble. You look forward just in time to catch five orange toes and the ball they're attached to barreling down the entrance towards you. Your heart leaps out of your chest as the terrifying sight swallows you whole.
As the raccoon girl finishes putting her sneaker on, she scrunches her toes to make sure the little annoyance was still there, getting what it deserved. To her delight, she could feel your soft body get sucked into the gap between the ball of her foot and her toe pads. She squeezes you once more, then shuffles to the side of her bed.
The heat from her skin had started to reactivate the hidden, ground-in odors of the shoe, to you (and your nose's) abject horror, and your tongue was still crying out in disgust from it's little date with the sweat-laced fabric of the sneaker's interior. Not to mention, the smack of feet was far more potent now that you were smothered between damp, spongey insole and soft, smelly toes. Your olfactory senses were already overwhelmed, causing you to hyperventilate, pumping even more of the ripe stench into your lungs. You already feel yourself tearing up at the complete invasion of your respiratory system. This was not going to be a fun ride.
Marine's face brightens up as she feels you struggle weakly under her foot.
"Ya know what? This was an amazin' idea! My dogs already feel way comfier, and all it took was a little padding. I bet I could even snooze a bit more. That is, if I don't want to teach this little mozzie even more of a lesson..."
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