You're overcome by relief when you are finally pulled from the crowd, but it drains as fast as it came when you felt the cold steel of cuffs across your wrists and ankles, followed up by a rough tossing into the back of a police vehicle. You start stammering, "wh...wha....what...officers what did I do? What's happening?" You look at them for any answers, and see two massive Gamorreans smirking at you.
"Wrong place and wrong time kiddo." The passenger side one responds with an unbearable amount of smugness while her companion speeds off towards the police station. You keep stammering about justice and your innocence and whatever in the back, and it must've been really annoying, because when you arrive at the station, the passenger rips your door open, grabs your ankle chain, rips you out of the car and onto your face on the pavement, which she grinds in further. "Wrong. Place. Wrong. Time. Kiddo. You're guilty because we say so, because we need a new foot boy to chase around the office. So we're going inside, we're going to question you, you're going to confess, and life at our feet will be your punishment okay? And if you make so much of a peep before we get in the questioning room, I will personally skin you. Do you understand?" She ends her question with a swift kick to the balls before picking you up and carrying you into the station.
You look around with pleading eyes, begging for anyone to help, but then you realize they're all gamorreans, and they're all smirking at you. They can barely contain themselves they're so excited. You groan and twist and struggle some more, which only earns you the honor of having your head "accidentally" smacked off every door frame from there on. When they unceremoniously dump you into a chair and cuff you to it, they debate how this confession going to go and in it you learn their names. The brutal passenger is Sheila and the driver is Sam.
They end the debate by flipping your chair on its back, your mortified face now staring up at the two grotesque figures above you. Sheila locks the door and Sam prepares the interrogation. She clears her throat and asks. "Where were you an hour ago?" Sheila is sitting, prying her work boots off, Sam slowly edging out of hers.
"Being assaulted by the population of this hell hole! Get away from me!" You scream and thrash at them, only succeeding in amusing them.
"How did you get here" Sam continues, ignoring your temper tantrum and scribbling furiously on a OF of paper.
"I woke up on this planet, then was kidnapped by two pigs and cuffed to a chair!" You spit now, furious at your mistreatment. Sam lets her clip board drop to her side, and Sheila angrily takes off her last shoe, the smell of her feet replacing the air of this room, which smelled of rot and sewage by the way. They stare, shocked.
"Did you...did you just call us pigs?" Sam's professional voice broke and it was rising. "DID YOU JUST DARE TO CALL US OFFICERS OF THE LAW PIGS? OR WAS IT DIRECTED AT OUR BODIES? OOOOOOOOH THE GIRLS ARE GOING TO HAVE FUN WITH YOU WHEN WE'RE DONE!" Sam ripped off her boots and jumped on top of you, suffocating you with her two massive slabs of meat, her feet. Your eyes watered, and the air was knocked out of you when she tackled you. Turned you head away, but Sheila had her feet positioned at either side of your skull, so you accidentally slid your nose between her big toe and the one adjacent. She seized the opportunity and pinched off your air, forcing you to open your mouth, which Sam utilized to its full potential. The sweat that had built up in her leather boots from a long days work was now being squeezed out into your mouth. It was rancid, but they ensured that's you swallowed every drop.
After twenty minutes of brutalizing you, Sam subsided her attacks and sat upright on your chest. Sheila wasn't above that and continued, and if anything, upped her attack, rubbing her scent vigorously into your hair and cheeks. Sam coughed, and continued her questions.
"So do you agree that you came from a Genosian terrorist cell and planned to blow up that bar, and only by the heroic actions of the citizens were you subdued, and the city saved? Now before you answer that question, think long and hard. She applies a small amount of pressure onto your throat with her foot. "Choose very wisely."
You gulp and look away. This is it, the end of the road. You're not walking out of here a free and innocent man. You're walking out of here a slave to these green beasts. Forever to suck feet under a desk or what have you, and not just any feet. These are massive, wrinkly, sweaty, fetid feet and you'd rather die, but that's it an option. You mumble out an agreement about a minute or two later.
"Huh? What's that? You're going to have to speak louder hun, I'm a little hard of hearing." She leans forward towards your ear.
You say yes a little louder, which causes happy cheers from the two girls, who hurriedly uncuff you. "Sam we got a new foot boy!"
"Yeah and don't kill him so fast this time, it's hard to get good ones these days." Sam gets up and lifts your chin up with her big toe, inspecting you in the light. "And this ones definitely a good one." She brings her foot up to herself and spits on it, rubbing it into your cheeks and hair. "There, now you gotta shine to ya."
Disgusted, you allow yourself to be pulled up, spanked and held against the wall for a minute. Sheila, visibly shaking in excitement, explains. "Okay so whenever we get a new foot boy around here, we set up a deal with him. If you can get outside without us catching you, you're free and we will rip up your confession, and we'll act as if we never talked to a terrorist like you." She pinches you to emphasize the final word. "However, of we catch you, it's a lifetime of worshipping our huge staff and our huge feet." She taps your balls with the top of her foot. "Okay ready? 3, 2, 1!" She shoves you outside the room and screams "New foot boy of the loose!"
The sound of crashing desks and stampeding feet freezes you in place out of fear for a brief second, causing Sheila and Sam to double over in hysterics back in the interrogation room. Recovering when you the first tint of green round the corner, you turn heel and scramble away. You almost turn in a narrow hallway before thinking better of it, and enormous gamorreans almost on top of you, you duck into the only other place available, the locker room. You dash through that, and see the exit, but are side tackled. You fall the ground, dreams shattering, and the horde behind you drags you back into the locker room.
"What an ideal spot for you to end up at" one of them says. "We have all of our old laundry store in here along with our equipment." They all get up to go collect old socks, except one who holds you down. A pile of stale, crusty, sweaty socks quickly builds up on your face and you feel two women sit on your hands, two for your feet, and one for your hip. Those five women ride themselves to orgasm and switch off. This is a full office for the sprawling city, so there's a least a hundred staff members that'll need a turn. Twenty turns later, its late into the night and most gamorreans have gone home, except for Sheila, who comes say sauntering around the corner. She silences you with toe, and unfurls a massive, clear, person sized bag. She has you tied up pretty tightly and slid into the bag in no time, which she starts filling up with the socks you've been smelling for hours now. She even tapes a couple inside your mouth and under your nose. Sealing the bag, she pokes only a few holes and secures you above the grand entrance to the police station as a surprise to those who come on tomorrow. She kisses her hand and presses it to the bag before tying you up there, then leaves for the night. Over the next few years, you'll end up spending a week tied under each ladies desk, and if you're bad, a couple servicing the prisoners. But fate lent out to community service first or are you going straight into the police service?   indicates the next chapter needs to be written. |
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