Footbound (Chapter 25) (Patreon)

“I… was… afraid. Didn’t think… I… could. Thought… you’d… hate me,” he replied, upon realizing he’d probably been thinking, ogling, and smothering against Lilina’s foot for at least five minutes of patient silence on her part.

“You were afraid. Yes. So afraid. That doesn’t surprise me. You’ve always been that way. Long before I met you,” Lilina said, not hypothesizing, but adamant in these statements as she was in the act of forcing her sole closer to her subordinate’s weary face. Her foot seemed to press more firmly against his features, even while Mitch still couldn’t be sure he was touching it at all, such that it was all he could do not to pant, audibly inhale, and get his tongue coiled in nylon filaments until they melted like frosted sugar, giving him access to the true prize beneath that he’d been chasing all along. “You know that I tried to help pull you out of your shell. I did my best, in so many ways. But no offense, my little friend: you don’t seem like the kind of man who’s ever had the courage to do anything but place himself quietly in the path of his desires, and only hope they just trample right over him on accident. Luckily for you, that strategy did pay off, because your new position is going to give your life a sense of value that you never dreamt of before, despite your own sad self-sabotaging efforts. Much as I’m amused by you, I can’t help but pity you too. Maybe I even mourn the thought of what you’ve deprived yourself, of the peace you could’ve felt by accepting all you’d been given from the start, but which will be lost to you now, because you’ve insisted on breaking yourself down so far. Yes, you will still have everything you wanted, but it will still come at a cost. Why couldn’t you have just given in? Why couldn’t you have just asked me, and saved yourself the trouble? Because, you funny little foot follower, I would have let you belong. In a heartbeat.”

Mitch’s perception felt like it was fracturing now across a flattened plain of all time and space, flashing back and forth between those encounters with Eve in the abyss, and Lilina now in the same near-pitch darkness, seeing and smelling and feeling both their feet confusingly at once, as though shaken through a kaleidoscope and merged. The closer his superior’s stocking ped crested, the less distinguishable he found those incredibly fine-silk filaments in her nylons, which seemed to be keeping their same glistening cobweb-like daintiness even as her foot itself seemed to grow, her expanding sole swallowing more of his visage with its mileage of loping marshmallow-kissable arch smoothness, until the harshly seared memory of Eve’s bare feet had elapsed Lilina’s own in his mind, making them appear one and the same at the firm clarified center of Mitch’s otherwise-spiraling senses, no longer draped in those seductive nude-matching fibers. Everything else on the fringes was buzzing noise and untrustworthy blackness, but in the middle of his world, as always, was this naked ebulliently-puckering feminine underside, whose owner Mitch could no longer be sure of. Was he still looking at Lilina’s foot, or only recalling Eve’s?

And then, like perfectly-tailored hosiery stretching languorously around the elegant curves of its destined foot, everything snapped into place for Mitch. Shock might’ve wiped him clean off the map in both sleepless reality and sensual dreamland at the same time, if it wasn’t for her foot, now tangibly pressed across his face and tethering him irrevocably back to her. It was the same out-of-body madness he’d experienced when hearing the horny housewife’s footboy-clamoring voice morph suddenly into that of his gigantic nightmare temptress over the phone at work uncountable hours before, only now to a degree of infinity that left Mitch well and truly stiff-as-a-board catatonic on the altar of his own bed, with a blissful meaty-padded female arch sending him on another vision quest across its fragrant landscape of Promised Land sole flesh.

It was her. All along. Eve was Lilina. Or rather, Lilina was Eve. And she was the moaning nutcase on the phone. And she was the reason why Mitch hadn’t slept for seven straight days, why his brain lacked the capacity now to conceive or appreciate anything beyond the foot currently clasped over his features, and why there was no going back. In a pouring rush of automatic knowledge that was learned all too late to do anything about it, if he could’ve ever resisted it at all, Mitch became acutely aware – surer of this now than he’d ever been of anything in his life – that every insane, soul-stealing, footjobbing ride he’d lived through this week was real. Each hallucination, uncertainty, and orgasm were the result of her: his queen, his goddess, his night terror all rolled into one ethereal inhuman sexily-soled paragon.

“I… w-wha… how…” Mitch whispered into the spacious ether while, from his warped vantage, hovering over a living vibrantly-hued nation of wrinkle-mountain arch, the largest he’d ever beheld her glorious foot, even while the other half of his senses told him that this incarnate waking-world Eve’s sole was still the same natural size as in her Lilina form, covering his eyes, nose, and lips while compressing his motionless ragdoll frame down into the pillow. These fearful murmurs were lost like gentle exhales into the vast creamy-skinned geography of her underfoot, so quiet that they might as well not have been spoken aloud at all, though for the first time, Mitch didn’t doubt if he was heard by this singular omnipotent being he’d come to revere and revile so dearly. There was truly nothing she couldn’t do, whatever she was, and so he said the only thing he could: “W-Who… are… you?”

“Oh, come now, my plaything. Have we really not grown close enough these past days, the best of your near-worthless being, to understand one another fully already?” she taunted. “Very well. It is time you knew.”

Just like her foot, Eve’s sound had united completely with Lilina’s, and Mitch heard his one-time coworker friend’s tone interwoven with the other multi-tiered cries that made up her voice, still somehow furiously malevolent and yet provocatively inviting at the same time. Corresponding to each part of her voice, Mitch believed he was feeling every possible emotion at once now: frustration, exaltation, terror, relief, and above all, once-in-a-lifetime lust that ensured while every other part of him save for his lips had gone inanimately rigid, his manhood was erecting up toward its most perfect provider as she stayed royally throned at the end of the bed.

“I have been known by many names. Several to you alone,” Eve continued. “And endless other designations by my former conquests throughout both fact and folklore, all of whom have contributed their essence to my greater being, sooner or later. Though you have certainly struggled harder than anyone I have collected for several hundred years, if not what you call a millennium. Surprising, really, as your desires, weakness, and utter dependence on the power of the female foot make you a more ideal selection than most men to feed my requirement for paraphilic yearning of subordinate creatures. I found you with such ease, drawn straight to your pitiful mess of a being. So I became what I needed to be in order to prepare you, and illustrated myself as your superior in waking and in sleep, so that you would accept your fate calmly and with gratitude, when it came to your payment of seed and then final taking. The necessity of binding your soul to a sole cried out to me so desperately, I could not have ever moved on once you were chosen, and yet you pushed back for so long. I must say, that as greatly as you displeased me in doing so, I feel more satisfaction now in claiming you than I have over the many lessers I have absorbed before. Not that it matters to me how you ultimately choose to feel during these waning moments of illusory autonomy you still hold, but maybe you will find comfort in that special place you hold for me, as the “you” that you have always known ceases to be, permanently, and your true purpose is initiated. I have called you many things during these past seven cycles: Coworker. Family. Friend. Stool. These were but words, and meaningless, next to your ultimate virtue, the climax of your being, which is to become my Footbound.”