With that, she sat on my stomach and set her feet on either side of my head, holding it still. Then, she used my face to pry off both of her filthy sneakers.
"What are you doing?" I demanded.
"I'm doing anything that I want to do," Bridget replied. "And you're going to do whatever the fuck I want to do, as well-starting with smelling my stinky feet. But first a little appetizer."
She took her sneaker, pressed the open end over my nose, and held it there. I quickly turned my head to the side, because the stench was horrendous. In an instant, Bridget's two friends were sitting next to my bed, on either side of my head. They extended their legs, so that the filthy soles of their sneakers were squeezing my head into an upright position, thereby forcing me to smell the stench inside Bridget's rotting sneaker. With one hand pressed tightly over my mouth, Bridget held her sneaker over my nose with her other hand. I felt so humiliated-I was being woman-handled by teenagers!
"Get your nose in there, Arnold!" she commanded. "Get your nose way up into the sweaty, stinky toe section and smell my foot odor, you fucking loser. Just smell that stench you ugly little creep! I'm going to kick your sissy ass for bothering me you old fart. A fucking pervert like you deserves to be worked over. How do you like that smell, Arnold? I have been wearing these sneakers for so many years now, that there are actually things growing inside them! Just smell that atrocious odor, you jerk. Suffer, you fucking loser!"
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