You squint, or at least try to, as light hits your vision for the first time in what felt like a good while. As your sight slowly adjusts, your dropped unceremoniously onto something before you’re finally able to see the face of your owner.
‘Why am I calling him owner?’ You thought, nervous at the idea of being owned as the teenage young man yawns, brushing a hand through his messy hair. The realization that it was a guy who’d be wearing you would have made you whimper if you had the mouth to do so.
The huge hand soon returns, stretching your opening out as you were lowered to the floor. The massive foot you were about to be covering for the day filling your fibers with dread as the five toes wiggle into you.
And it’s then you realize you can still taste and smell.
‘Ngh…’ you grunt as your fabric quickly begins to stretch, clinging to the foot snugly. The taste of sweat obvious and the smell not very pleasant, ‘Of course he didn’t shower before wearing me…’ You think.
You’re suddenly feeling the ankle you’re clinging to shift before you felt a falling sensation, your eyes quickly getting pressed into the carpe of the floor, before realizing you can move your sight. Changing your vision to look upward, your wearer feels like you were standing at the base of an obelisk you can’t even see the top of.
Being stepped on and having a teen’s foot shoved in your mouth wasn’t at all enjoyable. And as you felt his weight shift and twist on you before you were lifted up (and quickly lowered in succession), you realized you hadn’t even experienced an entire DAY as a sock…
‘Why did I jump down that hole…?’ You thought in regret as your unaware wearer treated you like any other sock; wore you and walked all over you…
You felt yourself contort and twist as the toes within you flexed and twitched, tapping the cold floor as the titans above had a quick breakfast. Memories of food and their taste making the experience and taste of old foot sweat all the more humiliating.
You could hear the conversations above being held, but were unable to understand any of it. Not because it was a foreign language, but the words being spoken were just ineligible, just like the TV when you first ended up like this.
‘What would a sock need to read or hear for?’ You thought. Fear prickling through your stretched fibers. What would happen if you stayed like this for too long? Would your mind settle into the role of a sock completely? Would you ever get back to that weird sock realm again? Would going back even return your human form?
Feeling the toes inside you flex, wrinkling the parts of you into your wearer’s toes, he soon stood up and approached the door, picking up a pair of sneakers.
Whimpering helplessly, you were shoved into the dark, worn, sweaty smell and taste of a teenage boy’s shoes. Moving your sight to the edge of your opening clinging to his ankle did little to avoid the smell and taste.
If there was any positive to this as you began to be stepped on and lifted into the air, it was the worn shoe you were in at least cushioned you as your wearer continued to walk out the door…
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