Unexpected Vacation - Footwear TF
Tags: Inanimate, Clothing TF, Feet, Macro, Object TF, Growth, Sweat, Caption, Objectification
DescriptionIf you want to make a suggestion or have an unique idea join the Discord Server. Some of the other things you can find there are NSFW captions without the censor and giveaways for commissions!'Unexpected Vacation - Footwear TF(Commission cap for truedaferomona)About a few weeks ago, you…
(Commission cap for truedaferomona) About a few weeks ago, you moved from your college dorm to a cheap new apartment. The apartment isn't much, but it's what you can afford. Most neighbors warrant nothing more than a passing 'hello' in the hallway. Then there's Vivian. Forty-one, flame-red pixie cut, tanned skin that makes her look a decade younger, and an energy that screams confidence. Your pathetic attempts to flirt with her when you first met have backfired spectacularly. Now she wields those memories like a sharp weapon. "Be a dear and take my trash down," she says with that knowing smirk. "Unless you want me telling everyone about your little poetry recital at my door..." You grumble but comply. The alternative is worse. "I'm heading to Majorca next week," she mentions one afternoon, leaning against your doorframe. "You should come with me." "What? Why would I?" "Don't flatter yourself," she laughs. "I just think having a younger man around would make the trip more... interesting." The invitation surprises you, but your bank account makes the decision easy. "I can't afford a vacation right now," you say. Something flickers across her face... was it disappointment? Then she nods. "Makes sense. I'm not trying to bankrupt you." For days afterward, Vivian is unusually quiet. No requests, no taunting. Then comes the text: 'Come over for tea. Just want to chat. Strange, but you go anyway.' Her apartment smells like jasmine and cinnamon. She hands you a steaming cup and a plate of cookies, gesturing toward her couch. "I was sad when you couldn't come with me," she says, settling beside you. "But I've been thinking about a solution." "Solution?" She leans closer. "I've noticed things about you. The way you look at certain... items. The way your eyes follow my feet when I wear sandals." Your face burns. "I don't know what you're..." "Araara," she chuckles, using that Japanese expression that somehow sounds predatory from her lips. "No need to deny it." Before you can respond, she pulls off her socks, revealing her bare feet. They're elegantly shaped with crimson-painted toenails, emanating a faint musky scent. "Well-kept, aren't they?" she wiggles her toes hypnotically. "Though a bit fragrant after my workout." You can't look away. Your throat tightens. "I know your weakness," she murmurs, sliding closer. Her lips brush your ear. "Just imagine being a pair of sandals beneath these beautiful feet. Feeling their warmth, their weight, their sweet stink pressing down on you all day long." Your stomach lurches suddenly. Not from her words, but something else. "Oh," she says softly. "It's starting." "Wh-what did you do?" Your voice sounds distant even to your own ears. "Just a little something in your tea. Nothing dangerous... just transformative." Your vision fixes on the ceiling as a bizarre sensation overtakes you. The distance between your eyes and the ceiling seems to grow, like you're sinking into the floor. Your skin tingles, then burns, then begins to move independently of your muscles. "Vivian!" you try to shout, but your voice gurgles and disappears. Your perspective splits down the middle, as if your eyes are being pulled apart. Then everything settles into stillness. You can still see, still sense temperature and texture, but can't move. The room feels colder now, or maybe you're just more sensitive to the air. Vivian's face appears above you, enormous and goddess-like. "You turned out great, broke boy," she says, voice booming. "Pretty fancy for someone so desperate without money." Her giant hands lift you up. "Let me show you how you look." She carries you to a mirror, but you don't see yourself reflected there. You see just Vivian holding a pair of fashionable platform sandals. White leather straps cross over a wooden base with cork-lined footbeds. Horror washes through whatever consciousness you still possess. "You turned out great," she repeats. "Let me try you out first." She tosses you to the floor. Your perspective is disorienting. Somehow, you can see from multiple angles at once. Then her massive feet approach, blocking out all light as they descend. Darkness envelops you, but not nothingness. You feel the pressure of her feet settling into you. Strangely, it doesn't hurt. In fact, it feels... right. Like you're finally fulfilling your purpose. The smell, though. What you'd perceived as a faint muskiness before now overwhelms your senses. Cheesy, salty, slightly acidic, her foot odor penetrates your very existence. Her skin cells stick to your surface as she walks around her apartment. "Mmmmm, you feel perfect under my feet," she purrs. "So supportive." When she finally lifts her feet, you can sense the imprint she's left behind her unique foot pattern, which is now embedded in you like a brand of ownership. Without warning, she picks you up and tosses you into a suitcase amongst her clothing. You lie there in darkness, absorbing the scents of her garments, which strangely remind you of your ow
