Tough Vanilla and Her Feet

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Rain poured heavily around this backwoods motel.

The location wasn’t 22-year-old Vanilla’s first choice, but with no job in sight and a friend stingier than a crab, this was the best arrangement they could agree to. A sliver of peace in the middle of nowhere.

The totally ordinary Floridian rabbit lady had a tough time making it to her room. It was not only on the second floor, in a place with no idea what elevators were, but Vanilla was also wearing flip-flops. And anyone who has tried to walk through the rain in them knows that it’s the perfect recipe for busting their ass.

“Fuck it,” she sighed, carefully sliding the slippery shoes off. “It’s not that far.”

Up the stairs she struggled, the soles of her white feet receiving a chill from the rough ground. As soon as she slammed her key card against the door, she stormed in and launched the suitcase onto the carpeted floor. There, lying on one of the two beds, was her so-called friend.

“Hello there,” he said, using his phone nonchalantly.

“Can’t believe I used to think fall was my least favourite season.” Vanilla squeezed her large, red hair like a sponge before rushing to the bathroom to dry off. “Florida summers are the worst!”

“They have their pros.” Jacker’s eyes focused on the black Roxy flip-flops that Vanilla had unceremoniously dropped to the floor.

While she remained in the bathroom, the pale-skinned jester tumbled out the bed and snatched one up. His jaw dropped as he felt how squishy and damp it was, soggy to its very core. The roaring thunder brought Jacker back to reality, reminding him that it the rain was responsible for the shoe’s status.

Yet he couldn’t help but envision Vanilla, sprinting miles to this very motel, her flip-flops slapping and squeaking with every step. And rather than the rain causing the wetness, it was the sweat from her soles which deformed the footwear. A naughty smile appeared on his face. He was dying for a whiff of the bunny’s scent.

Sniff… Sniff…

The toe area only had a hint of her essence, but it accelerated his heart rate. His penis felt a stimulation while he continued inhaling. Panting, he took one last sniff before scampering back to his bed, just in time to see Vanilla emerge. She sported a clean, pink T-shirt and remained wearing her black leggings.

“You’re not gonna shower?” he asked.

“That can wait.” She waltzed to her suitcase. “Now, are we gonna play, or are you just gonna play some Yu-Gi-Oh for the thousandth time online?”

“As long as you brought the right tool, I’m ready.”

“Amazing that this thing has survived all these years,” she noted, looking at her indigo GameCube controller. With the Control Stick’s rubber completely gone and the wire so ripped, it was a mystery how it still functioned. “I knew you liked shit the moment I met you, considering this is your favourite pad.”

“Heh…” And he made a creepy face which prompted Vanilla to chuck the thick controller at him.

Vanilla had been good with keeping up with modern gaming since she was a child, but as she hit her later teens, she’d struggle to adjust. She often returned to her older machines. If the PlayStation 2 hadn’t been at the top of her pyramid, the very Wii she carried today would have claimed that title. And while she lacked fondness for the GameCube, the ability to play its games perfectly on the Wii was certainly an advantage for the younger machine.

“The Wii is almost 20 years old, holy shit,” she whispered, lifting her leg as she fiddled with the CRT’s dated inputs.

“Ageing doesn’t have to be bad,” Jacker remarked, glancing at Vanilla’s softly wrinkled soles.

Vanilla didn’t know whether to continue thinking of her college-life crisis or to thank him for the compliment. It was far from the first that she’d received about her feet. Knowing that Jacker had an affinity for her soles rather than her lengthy toes, she slowly kicked her foot out before retracting it.

The small action lit a fire in his body, and Vanilla’s ears picked up the sound of his jeans pitching a tent.

“You know,” she said, trying to calm herself, “I wish we were playing the good Mario Kart.”

“We are.”

“Hmph. A game with moon gravity, annoying items and where your kart slides more than my flip-flops in the rain? If those are what you consider good, then we’re indeed playing a triple-A title.”

“Skill issue. Get good.”

“Oh, I’m quite good,” she chuckled. “I’ve been practising just for you.”

Since Jacker’s favourite controller had a wire, he wriggled his tiny self to the foot of the bed. Meanwhile, Vanilla lived the wireless life with her beloved Classic Controller, so she leapt on the bed. Her legs dangled over the frame as she navigated to the Homebrew Channel.

Jacker, the greedy chub he was, couldn’t resist another peek at her feet. Especially from the side angle. The curve of her arch was so pronounced that he could envision his face comfortable resting in it. Then his nose twitched.

“Mmm… What have you been cooking?” he asked, licking his lips.

“I just wore sneakers this morning, that’s it.”

“Sneakers?” His eyes widened. “Without socks, right?”

“Duh.”

“Step on me, why don’t you?”

“I intended to spice this up anyway.” She curled her toes while the game’s title screen appeared. “I say we do two or three cups, and if I have more wins by the end, you’ll rub my feet.”

“Wait, you’re not gonna go for mine? Or give me something more demanding?”

“I’m worn out. Now, what do you want if you win?”

What didn’t Jacker want? Vanilla’s feet were some of his favourites in the world, merely from online images. He wanted to kiss them, lick them, definitely smell them as intensely as possible. But as he thought, he realised that there was no need to limit himself to one action.

“When I win, I want you to force me to worship your feet.”

“Domination’s not my strong suit.”

“You’ll make it work,” he said, touching the tops of her feet. “You will.”

And so began the game.

With Vanilla using all the knowledge she had of this 2003 game, the simpler Mushroom Cup courses were a piece of cake. She consistently ended in the top two positions, whereas Jacker struggled to break into the top four.

“I thought this piece of junk was your favourite Mario Kart,” Vanilla teased. “Shouldn’t you be beating me?”

“Haven’t played it in years. That was a warm-up.”

The Flower Cup was fierce. Mushroom Bridge’s onslaught of traffic, combined with the slipperiness of Double Dash’s controls, left Vanilla cursing as she struggled to maintain the lead. She was in last place, only receiving useless items to toss forward. Yet here Jacker was, effortlessly cruising to the top while he had a blank look on his face. And despite Vanilla’s superior performance on the other three tracks, Jacker’s earlier advantage sealed his victory.

“I can’t wait to suck on you guys,” he whispered to the toes, blowing them a kiss.

“They’re more interested in getting rubbed, so don’t get any ideas.”

“Let’s see what Sherbet Land has to say about that.” And with that one sentence, Jacker had caused Vanilla’s nerves to stiffen.

The Star Cup’s first track had truly mesmerising icy visuals. But every time Vanilla found herself racing there, she was ready to destroy her controller. The lack of friction and the excessive swaying of the kart’s rear—a unique trait of Double Dash—sent her flying into obstacles over and over.

“Damn it,” she growled, kicking Jacker in the back of the head. It was the third time she was hit by a Red Shell on a single lap. “And you can’t look backwards! This item system sucks!”

“Okay, maybe that’s a flaw of the game.”

“Maybe!?”

“Maybe it’s a bad element. But lemme tell you, I love how you can’t be a coward and hold a banana the entire race.” He stuck out his tongue. “Makes this one way more skill-based, but I totally get how that’d suck for you.”

“How dare you.”

After Jacker snatched the victory in Sherbet Land, they hopped to Mushroom City. Vanilla rarely played this course as a child, and it reflected in how she was constantly confused on where to turn. The traffic only added to the chaos, while Jacker emerged unscathed.

Yoshi’s Circuit was next in line. Immediately, Vanilla used the bumping mechanic to steal an item from a computer player. Once she saw what she had, she snickered. The rabbit held onto this vibrant item until the second lap, when Jacker found himself in the lead and nearing one of the skinniest bends. Sweat trickled down his forehead. If he didn’t encounter a Starman soon…

“Come on, come on.” He leaned closer, his item roulette landing on a Banana Peel as Vanilla launched her weapon of destruction. “Damn Blue Shell!”

“Spiny Shell, motherfucker.” Vanilla yanked his dark grey hair with her toes, tugging harder upon seeing his kart flip into the air.

This move resulted in Jacker coming in seventh place compared to Vanilla’s first place. The scores were so close, and if Vanilla won this next race, she’d surpass him for good. And to Jacker’s fear, Vanilla knew DK Mountain inside and out.

Every second of this race was filled with tension. The two were constantly at each other’s throats, with Vanilla using Jacker’s screen to know if he would attack her with an item. She beat him on the first lap, and he barely passed her on the second lap. As they entered the final lap, they left the computer racers in the dust, and it was just around the penultimate corner when Jacker began to pray faster than when he was a boy alone with his grabby priest.

Please, God, just let me worship her feet. I can’t wait a whole day. I need them now!

And as if this fictional being had real powers, Vanilla took a leap off the rickety bridge, letting out a scream while Jacker pumped his fist. The celebration music commenced, and Vanilla landed flat on her back with a groan of frustration.

“I hate this game and its stupid non-gravity-having physics!”

“I, for one, love this game and its stupid physics.” Jacker poked Vanilla’s sole. “You know, if only you had more friends back in the day, you might’ve been a master at this game.”

Vanilla froze, her eye twitching.

“Yep. Between friends and family, I had it pretty good. Meanwhile, you were just sitting there, feet up, playing alone for almost your entire life. Sucks, doesn’t it? Ah well.”

Vanilla immediately sprung up, seizing the jester by his throat and hurling him against the wall.

“I would’ve gone easy on you, but no, you’re getting way too cocky.”

Yes! Let the hate flow through you!

It was rare to see Vanilla genuinely pissed, but Jacker knew from the power she displayed that he had done more than struck a simple nerve.

Vanilla kicked him to the side, her footsteps sounding like that of an elephant as she immediately reached his head. With her right foot held high in the air, Jacker was given one second to react.

“And by the way, I didn’t choose my childhood.” The woman flattened his face underneath her foot.

At first, Jacker felt a severe pain. It was as if Vanilla had broken his face. Yet this pain would gradually turn to pleasure as he suffocated under the powerful foot. It was like being covered with a blanket, only this blanket came with a special odour.

Indeed, Vanilla had been wearing her sneakers this morning. Jacker couldn’t tell if it was the infamous black Nikes or the white ones that reeked of mouldy cheese, but he knew that this scent came from a well-worn pair. It was too strong, too distinct to come from a freshly bought set of shoes. And as Vanilla scrunched her toes against his forehead, a shuddering moan escaped his lips. The stench might as well have been his very oxygen.

Their moisture had been absorbed by towels, yet the earlier perspiration gave her feet another top quality: the softness. As devastating as getting his face stomped on should have been, it was like getting hit by a pillow. It was firm but cosy.

He had drowned out Vanilla’s life story, only immersed in the experience of being trapped underneath her massive foot.

“Ignore me all you want.” Vanilla lifted her foot, exposing her face of disgust. “I’ll make you pay attention.”

She grabbed him by the hair, dragging him over to the bed where she sat. Once in the right position, she forced his face into her foot. In particular, she pinched his nose between her toes.

This was magical. Jacker only giggled at the hot sensation that rushed him. Then when he went to properly breathe it in…

“Yeah.” Vanilla tightened her grip, using her remaining hand to keep his mouth sealed.

That she was looking him in the eyes in the first place alarmed Jacker. Vanilla never enjoyed making eye contact with even her closest family members. Yet here she was, continuing to gaze this jokester down as his breathing came to a still.

40 seconds passed, and just as he thought he would pass out, he could suddenly feel oxygen enter his lungs. Although it only travelled through his mouth, forcing him to inhale the small dirt particles that lingered on Vanilla’s sole. Every inhalation tasted of grime.

“No, no, no,” she sang, slapping him repeatedly. “Be a man.”

Back into her foot Jacker went. His initial moans of pleasure turned to sounds of discomfort as he only snorted in the sweat from Vanilla’s feet. The vinegary scent that had previously intoxicated him had turned into a truly hellish aroma that he couldn’t break free from. She pinched his nose so tightly that he could only let in little bits of air at a time, causing his body to begin to flail in desperation.

“Stick out your tongue,” she commanded. When Jacker failed to comply, she took matters into her own hands. She plunged her toes into his mouth, one by one. “Let’s see how much you get a thrill out of this.”

Jacker’s control was diminished, for it was the toes who had taken charge. They wiggled and squirmed, their pinching nature continuing as they trapped his tongue between them.

If there was a word to describe the taste of Vanilla’s feet, it would be “pungent”: a word that could equally represent both good and bad. Her toes were incredibly pungent, plumpy even. And the sweat that tricked from them was nothing to scoff at. As the digits squeezed, their juices flooded into Jacker’s mouth, his tongue acting as a sponge. And though there remained discomfort in the ordeal, that feeling of pleasure began to return, at least on the inside. No matter the circumstances, it was an honour to be able to savour the nutrients that Vanilla’s heavenly feet secreted.

All the while, he continued to look his friend in the face, as if he were envisioning that it was her tongue that danced with his, rather than her salty toes. Either situation would have sufficed for him, but with his eyes shut, he found himself putting all his energy into sucking on these toes fiercely. As if they were the sweetest candies.

And after all, his boner was urging him to enjoy himself.

“It takes a lot to make me genuinely mad,” Vanilla groaned, removing her toes from Jacker’s mouth so she could rub them against his face. “Congratulations.”

Jacker had a faint smile as he felt her foot sweat and his spit further smear across his face.

“If it takes this much to get any real emotion out of you, no wonder you had problems.”

Hit me again! I dare you! I double—

Vanilla’s strength left Jacker hunching over. And this time, it wasn’t her foot that dealt the blow. Her hand vibrated deep in his gut before the jester was met with a roundhouse kick. Then Vanilla slammed her foot on his chest.

She pried his mouth open so wide. And then, without a single word, she began to wriggle her left foot in there. But it soon became far more aggressive, escalating into a battle as she grunted and pushed her large foot down Jacker’s throat. With Jacker’s mouth being so small, the pressure was maddening. It was an even tighter pressure than when she was pinching his tongue between her toes.

Jacker’s emotions were like a metronome, bouncing between pain and pleasure. The walls of his mouth stretched wider and wider, and his breathing ramped in difficulty. At this rate, it was as if Vanilla was intent on reaching the very back of his throat, just to scrape it with her big toe.

Deeper… Deeper…

His eyes bulged. Against all odds, Vanilla’s toes finally caused him to begin gagging. Vanilla watched as if she hadn’t a care in the world while her foot suffocated the male below her. Jacker’s throat started convulsing, and he pounded the ground, letting Vanilla know that she had him right where she wanted him. So pleased with her results, she curled her toes in satisfaction.

A solid minute passed before she showed mercy. Jacker received a second of air, only to have Vanilla’s foot plunge back into his mouth.

“Better deepthroat it,” she said with some raspiness, finally feeling her toes hit the back of his throat. Jacker groaned, kicking and thrashing, yet this only provoked Vanilla into spreading her toes wider. And then, in one move, Jacker yanked her foot out and rolled on his side, spitting and sputtering.

Okay, this is getting to be a little too much…

Yet he flipped over onto his back, still looking up at the annoyed rabbit. As Jacker felt his legs being nudged, being spread open like a starfish, he came to a snappy realisation.

“No!”

Vanilla’s foot came crashing down upon Jacker’s fragile cock and balls. A jolt of force coursed through his genitals, sending a shiver up his spine while he let out a slow groan.

With a scowl, Vanilla twisted her foot, her toes splayed, applying ten times the pressure than when she smothered his face. And with all her weight coming down on him, Jacker’s body began to spasm. He began panting rapidly. A sticky fluid seeped through his underwear, splashing when Vanilla choked the tip of his pulsating penis with her toes.

“I’m expecting some form of an apology. A single sign of regret. Any day now,” she scoffed, now using her other foot to stomp him.

“I’m sorry!” Jacker squealed, gritting his teeth.

Her heel continued flattening his balls, and the waves of pleasure and pain were now at their maximum. Jacker’s face was filled with pure agony, tears beginning to stream. And yet deep down, he was jumping around like a giddy child.

When Vanilla finally stepped off his body, she gave him one final kick to the head.

“I’m sleeping in my own bed tonight.” She grabbed her pyjamas and gracefully walked to the bathroom. “Excuse me.”

Vanilla’s damp footsteps were like music to Jacker’s ears before she shut that door. His body might have been throbbing, but his only response was a light chuckle.

“I like you when you’re angry…” He slowly crawled over to Vanilla’s flip-flops, pressing his lips against the soggy rubber. As his underwear filled with a second round of semen, he let out a satisfied moan. “And you said you weren’t good at domination. Heh. Liar.”

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Author's Notes:
Vanilla is what I call my avatar. I might need a slightly more specific name since it's so basic at the moment. A reminder that I am an artist first and foremost, so if you want more illustrations, my galleries are here:
https://www.pixiv.net/users/40768940
https://vanillasoftart.newgrounds.com/
https://mega.nz/folder/lD1SAJQD#c2o2H4dbU5RecZ3Tdycb4w

Jacker belongs to artist TheJesterMime, and his profiles are here:
https://www.deviantart.com/thejestermime
https://www.pixiv.net/users/4839631