Making a Foot-Licker out of a Daughter

Versión en español  

“Stop, ma’am, please! Please, we get the point already!”

“I don’t think you do! Let me make sure you 100% understand!” A brown-haired girl woman slammed her foot, causing a crunch so loud that it echoed through the open room. “Snapped it real clean, yeah!”

A crowd was in a wild panic. But police and airport security were too late to stop the attack. When they arrived at the scene, one of the employees was gripping her arm. It was so twisted that it looked to have two elbows. The assailant, already stomping out the gate, made her threat verbal.

“This time, don’t send my shit all the way to Alola! It’s an airplane! How hard is it to get bags sent to the right fucking place!?” She sighed once inside the air-conditioned plane, then grinned.

After four years of travelling, it was time for a certain Pokémon trainer to head home. Sitting by the window, 18-year-old Hilda strapped in and turned off her C-Gear communications.

As much as she loved the friendlier and simpler Kanto region, the other side of the globe was calling her name. Her Pokémon battle skills had increased over the past few years, but her funds had only scaled so much. She had spent so much not only on her Pokémon but also on camping supplies, hotel expenses and other things a teen would waste money on. Just getting on the plane was a stroke of luck, as she barely had enough for an adult ticket.

Once the 14-hour trip was over, she’d be poor in Unova.

The plane departed and had now levelled off. Able to undo her seatbelt, Hilda pulled her white laptop out of her carry-on. She leaned her back against the window and rested her boot-covered feet on the empty seats in her row.

“Come on, load.” The girl mistyped her password four times before a message of success popped up. When her Victini background appeared, she wiped her forehead. Logging into the plane’s Wi-Fi was the last step in getting cosy for this long flight.

She opened the default browser, but not before glancing around. No passenger paid her any mind, and yet the screen’s brightness plunged until it was barely visible. Composing herself, she typed “girl feet” into the search bar. It wasn’t a second later that she was in the website’s image section.

Her eyes glazed over the first image, which showed the blurry tops of a woman’s toes. The second received the same treatment, showing a younger Pokémon trainer with her feet on a couch. Finally, the third image attracted Hilda’s mouse cursor. It showed a tanned woman sitting on a cobblestone sidewalk, her bare feet crossed at the ankles. Her soles were vibrant, spotless and quite wide. Her smile as she pointed to her feet stopped Hilda’s hart.

Hmph. Probably has a boyfriend who doesn’t know what to do with those things.

As the blood filled her cheeks, she opened another photo that showed lighter feet but no body. Then came one of a girl with her slender toes wrapped around a table leg.

Hilda’s browser knew exactly what she wanted to view. In a drop-down list were “girl feet socks, dirty feet, woman wrinkles feet, mature woman feet, teen boy feet, feet in sandals, beach feet” and at least 60 alternatives.

The laptop would push deeper into her groin the more into the image she was. Observing some darker male toes spreading out caused Hilda to brighten her screen a few notches. But she knew she could slam it down if sensed that anyone was going to catch her.

I’d wipe all my account information if it ever came to that. Oh! This one’s got motion! Sweet mama…

***

This old thing’s not gonna run right if part of it isn’t wiped.

In Unova’s time zone, it was 02:00. The trainer’s mother sat at her daughter’s desk, hunched over, hair messy and with bags under her eyes. Yet a smile was on her face as she reflected on Hilda’s newly organised bedroom. With the hardwood floor polished, the rug steamed, the bed made and the plants replaced, Whitelea was certain that the girl would be comfortable when she arrived. As if all that wasn’t generous enough, she’d bought her only child a Wii U and went through the trouble of cleaning out her closet.

It wasn’t the piles of clothes, the sharp hangers or the rare cockroach that made Hilda’s closet a war zone. Instead, it was the years of old shoes she’d refused to get rid of. Whether out of laziness or sentimental value, Hilda’s shoes had taken up permanent residence in this closet since the age of 11. Sneakers, boots and sandals so worn out that the insoles would leave behind gooey trails of material.

Though the shoes were now neatly lined up, none of them thrown away, they received a fresh trip to the washing machine. As a result, Hilda’s room never smelt better.

With the hardest stuff out of the way, Whitelea powered up her daughter’s old PC.

“Let’s see if the password’s the same…” She typed seven characters and was rewarded with a chime. “Hilda, I told you to stop using my passwords ages ago. Especially when it’s got your literal name in it.”

The PC took an eternity to load anything. When it did, Whitelea was hit with hundreds of email pop-ups and notifications all at once. But if she could wait an hour for a fat cockroach to stop hiding in Hilda’s laundry, ten minutes was nothing.

She opened the browser, and it immediately synced up with Hilda’s browsing activity on her travels.

“Maybe I shouldn’t erase everything, but I don’t see any good coming from keeping the cache.” She navigated to the history folder.

A Wailord could’ve pancaked her house, and it would’ve left Whitelea less surprised than what she was looking at. Hilda’s up-to-date history on this PC contained many reasonable websites, such as a calculator for known Pokémon type compatibilities. But in between all the sensible sites were phrases and questions that made the mother’s jaw drop.

She read them aloud in a slow tone. “I like smelling my feet. How do you give a foot rub? Boy feet. I want to kiss my friend’s feet. Mature feet? I like my mom’s feet. Is kissing mom on lips wrong? Want my feet licked.”

After scrolling through similar results, she noticed that the Browser on Other Devices category had a red dot. To her relief, Hilda was responsible enough to log out of PCs in hotels and in Pokémon Centres. However, one device had an active log-in session, and Whitelea’s concern forced her to click on it.

She looked at the time stamps as she scrolled past even stranger results, learning that her daughter’s behaviour was continuing on that very day. Even her non-foot searches included topics that stunned the parent. Hilda had looked up how to appear cuter, how to look as slim as possible, why she was single, why guys liked girls who were ‘bitches’, how to work in a nail salon and even whether it was normal to find one’s parent attractive.

Hilda, you’re attracted to me? Oh jeez…

The browser still open, Whitelea slowed the PC down with the number of windows she opened. Hilda’s Internet history only revealed part of the story, as in the Pictures folder lay many secret treasures. Specifically the folder labelled “Cosas Privadas”.

What private things, honey?

A click filled the screen with pictures of Whitelea and her daughter. What appeared to be innocent made the mother’s breathing slow as she noticed a recurring theme among the photos. Feet. She was barefoot in the majority of them, her white soles sometimes being right near the camera, such as in beach shots. Gasping, she zoomed in one on beach image, where Hilda’s face was right near her feet. Those red cheeks were the result of everything but a sunburn. Topping it all off, the picture was edited with a border in the shape of a heart.

Whitelea could only look at her reflection on the monitor before staring at her own feet.

***

Hilda rubbed her eyes, the young adult recovering from the severe jetlag. The good news was that she was finally off the plane, and in an unexpected twist, her luggage had not been sent to the wrong airport as it often was. However, she was in Opelucid City, which was many miles away from her home in Nuvema Town. And since her feet had not left the boots, her evening saw her with sore soles.

“No more flying for a while.” Just then, she tossed a Poké Ball from her bag.

A Staraptor emerged, the Normal/Flying Predator Pokémon from Sinnoh. With 45 levels of experience, it wasn’t the strongest on Hilda’s current team, but it was strong enough to carry her a decent distance. Though her extra bags complicated the logistics.

“You’re not familiar with this place yet, so I just want you to fly me in that direction,” she said, pointing southeast. “Stay low to the ground, and I’ll tell you when to— No! Stop! Aaaah!”

The bird lifted his master 90 metres into the air, roared, then flew off toward the southeast of Unova.

Gasping for air, Hilda kicked and screamed, desperately fighting to not drop her belongings. More than that, she hoped the Staraptor’s talons wouldn’t tear through her jacket or get too tired to carry her. The two travelled as fast as a crop duster at top speed, the bird even doing barrel rolls. Not for any actual reason other than to look cool or to scare Hilda for making him work so hard.

“Down!” She recognised her little town against the sunset backdrop. “Down! And do not drop me this—”

As her yells grew louder, her velocity increased. The impact with the ground left a narrow crater, over which a large bird hovered. Groaning, Hilda forced the Staraptor back into its ball and wiped her dirty face.

“Daycare starting tomorrow, mister!” With her hat and left boot separated from the crash, she cursed the fierce bird as she searched for them. “Ow. Ow. My feet are killing me, and you didn’t help at all.”

She gave her warm boot a couple of sniffs before stumbling to the front door of her house. Despite the pain in her body, she smiled as the warm scent of pine cones and dinner filled her nose.

Four years…

“Hilda has returned,” she sang, slamming the door behind her.

“Kitchen, Hilda.”

Hearing her mother’s voice in an uncompressed quality comforted the young adult. She undid her remaining boot and ran into the kitchen in her black socks, where her lively mother was stirring pasta. With a squeal of delight, she clung to Whitelea. For a solid minute, she simply hugged her mother until she was finally forced to let go.

“It’s like you didn’t even change,” she panted, only having seen her mother through a pixelated photo on her C-Gear’s Xtransceiver since travelling.

“Can’t say the same for you.” Whitelea rubbed her daughter’s arm. “You’ve been working out?”

“Trying to actually make them smaller…”

“And your voice! Now that I’m hearing it crystal clear, my goodness. My baby went from being a squeaky Minccino to being a majestic Milotic.”

Hilda looked down and rubbed her fingers together.

“All your friends are gonna be jealous that you can hit those lower notes, don’t worry.”

“All two of my friends.” Hilda went to pour herself a glass of juice. “I haven’t seen or spoken to them since leaving Unova. How are they?”

While Whitelea cooked, she and her daughter caught up on the basics of what had changed in Unova over the years. It left Hilda more than a little embarrassed that her friends, Cheren and Bianca, were in financially stable fields. Cheren ran an entire gym, scaring people with just a Lillipup. Bianca had become an assistant to Professor Juniper, and despite her mental setbacks, her knowledge of Pokémon had apparently impressed professors from other regions.

This left Hilda, a girl who was good at Pokémon battles but not much else. And a career in battle was not feasible unless one was serious about it. No consistent paycheques, no consistent rules, no contracts—it was all a form of gambling. Exciting but costly, as Hilda’s poor wallet had learnt.

When the fettuccine was in its final stages, Whitelea patted Hilda on the head.

“Let’s take this to the living room.”

“Sure, I’m starving anyway.” The girl dished her food out, scooping a quarter of the pot’s contents onto her plate. “Your cooking better not have gotten worse since I left.”

“Of course not. I put my big toe in this one.”

Hilda paused. Although she chuckled, remembering it was her mother’s way of saying something tasted delicious. At the same time, she cast a quick glance at Whitelea’s feet. The last time she’d seen them, they’d been unpainted. Now they were painted a baby blue to match the colour of the women’s eyes. And her right foot sported a silver toe ring on the second digit.

“Wow, your toes look pretty today, Mom.”

“You think so?”

“Mmm-hmm. Cute ring.” She started playing with her hair. “You know, I’ve been so focused on the Pokémon battles that I haven’t had my nails done since last Halloween.”

“You’re a busy girl now, aren’t you?”

Whitelea wiggled her toes before twirling out of Hilda’s view. The daughter started to wolf down her food while catching up with her mother in the living room. As they sat on the couch, Hilda took another look at the larger feet. The ceiling fan’s light reflected off the toes, making her stare even longer. Once her mother’s toes moved again, Hilda blinked and spoke rapidly.

“You know, being a Pokémon trainer seemed like fun, with the battles and tournaments, but it’s wearing me out,” she said, sitting cross-legged.

“I never forced you down that path.”

“I know. It’s just… I’m on struggle money right now, and I need a new job before this pushes me over the edge.”

“Brainstorming time. Got any ideas?”

“Well…” She swallowed. “I still wanna battle casually for my Pokémon, but I’m thinking of working in a nail salon. Working on people’s hands and feet. I bunked with a guy who had six Garbodor out their balls, so I think I can handle some nasty nails.”

Whitelea leaned forward, her gaze fixed on her daughter’s pale face.

Hilda continued. “I mean, at least it’s guaranteed money.”

“I want you to do whatever you’re comfortable with,” Whitelea explained. “But sweetie, if you wanna do this to satisfy your thing, I don’t think it’s gonna work.”

Hilda raised her eyebrows. “Thing? What thing?”

Whitelea ate, waiting for the inevitable moment her child to break the silence.

“Mom, how much makeup did I buy with my allowance? I can do my own nails anytime if I’m not lazy. This isn’t to satisfy some obsession or something.”

“Hilda.”

The girl put down her plate. “What? Look, I know it’s not as professional as being a gym leader or a researcher, but I gotta do what I want, not what those two are doing. How am I even me at that point? We’re not built the…” She squirmed as her mother continued to eat without acknowledging her. “I just got home, and you’re making me feel like I did something bad. What do you—”

“You have a foot fetish.”

Hilda froze. “Huh?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t even know what a foot fetish is, Mom. A fungus? I know we joke about my shoes smellin’ like cheese, but there’s none growing between my toes.”

Whitelea stretched her legs out and set her 41-year-old feet on the coffee table. She scrunched her toes twice. When she looked at her child, those blue eyes were right on those blue toes. Hilda began to shake her head, scooching back.

“Mom, this is getting weird now.”

“Remember that talk we had about using my password for all your accounts?”

Hilda’s eyes widened. “You logged onto my PC!?”

“I was doing you a favour, really. I wanted it to run faster for when you came back.”

“Oh my God.” Shaking and stumbling over her words, Hilda had gone from pale to red. “I swear, it was all when I was young.”

“Everyone who’s been a trainer knows how to use a PC’s browser, Hilda.” She stared intensely. “You like feet. You’re having body issues. You’ve got relationship issues, or rather, issues from a lack of relationships. And you like girls.”

“No! I just— I mean, I like how they look, so it’s not like I’d reject them, but I’d rather be with a guy if he really gave me the chance.”

“You said the same thing, just with more words.”

Yeah, that’s what I do when I’m having a nervous breakdown!

Hilda’s lips tightened. The previously warm atmosphere had turned into a cold space. Even if Hilda continued to deny the truth, her eyes would rat her out. She’d given up trying to avoid staring at her mother’s gigantic feet, preferring to stare at the faceless objects over any eyes. Feet couldn’t look back at her in shame.

“Hilda, are you in love with me?”

Hilda shook her head.

“That’s not what the folder of foot pictures says.” She interrupted her daughter before she could speak. “You searched up kissing moms on the mouth, like… Most kids don’t do that. When did all this even start?”

The girl shrugged, eyes still on her mom’s feet.

“I knew you liked touching feet when you were a toddler, but I thought that was silly stuff that went away once you were older. Now I see you were actually… Hilda, you were getting off to my feet the older you got. The tickling, it was turning you on.” Her eyes narrowed. “Is this why my socks kept disappearing?”

“There is nothing I can say that’s gonna make this any better. Can we please just pretend that this didn’t happen? I’ll delete the pics, I’ll go to therapy, I’ll—”

“We don’t live in a cartoon. You don’t walk into an office and come out not loving feet.”

Hilda took her hat off, screaming into it. “You’re just gonna kick me out then!”

Although she hadn’t seen any tears yet, Whitelea knew that Hilda’s violent shaking would lead to that. She moved closer and wrapped the terrified girl in her arms. Her daughter sank into her chest, shivering and struggling to breathe. As Whitelea rubbed her back and whispered for her to calm down, her voice softened.

“I don’t care who you want to be with, as long as they treat you right.” She kissed her forehead. “You’ve put on some weight, but it’s obviously muscle, not unhealthy fat.” She kissed her cheek. “And Hilda, you can smell as many feet as you want, and this will always be your home. If you truly find me attractive, I’m flattered, like any mom would be. It’s just, you know…”

Hilda’s panting continued but slowed.

“Between your burnout and problems with guys, you’re carrying a lot of stress. And until that’s taken care of, no man worth his salt is gonna wanna be with you, no matter how cute you look.”

“If I get the job, I’ll be fine.”

“Potentially, but honey, someone who gets turned on by feet this much is the last person I want to handle my pedicures. It’s like making a Magmar a firefighter.”

Whitelea backed away from her daughter, whose eyes were still shaking as if she were still on the verge of crying. The older woman smiled, and after putting her plate on the table, backed up to the other end of the couch. There her long legs swung over until her feet were flat on the cushion.

Hilda’s eyes darted between the toes and her mother’s face.

“So you’ve never licked anyone’s foot before?” Whitelea asked.

“I don’t think it’s ever gonna happen.”

“A simple Internet search tells me that while there are a few guys who share your fetish, not too many are really into the receiving stuff.”

She pouted. “Don’t remind me.”

“Hilda, I’ve been out and about all day. I went out in my sandals, so we’ve got a little bit of ‘sandal dirt’ on the soles. And since it’s so hot this time of year, there should be a little…a bit of stink on them. A little sweat, maybe.”

Hilda’s mouth was agape. “Mom—”

“Shh!” She placed the big toe of her right foot on the girl’s lips. “If my daughter wants to worship some guy’s feet, then she’s going to need to practise so that the first experience leaves him begging for more.”

Hilda’s heart was ready to explode.

For years she had dreamt of putting her mouth on her mother’s feet, two things she loved dearly. And now she not only got permission, but her lips got a taste of the big toe’s feel. In Hilda’s hands, Whitelea’s feet were as thick as they came. On her lips, the pressure was great. It was as if the whole toe could force itself into her mouth.

She gave Whitelea a nervous look, her hands shaking.

“Hilda, only desperate guys want a shy girl.” She put her feet back on the table, signalling for her child to get on her knees. “I know you have an aggressive side. Let’s see it.”

“You won’t tell anyone?”

“What happens in this house will stay in this house.”

Gulping, Hilda moved to the front of the table. As she tucked her knees under a pillow, she marvelled at Whitelea’s soles. Sure enough, everything the woman had described was true. Her feet were clean, though not without a few specks of “sandal dirt” in various places. The most notable of these was the slight stain on her heels. These white soles contained a reddish hue that allowed for the sweat to glisten before Hilda’s eyes. It was as if Whitelea’s feet had been lightly dunked in a pool of baby oil.

Speechless at her daughter’s deep gaze, Whitelea curled her toes until many wrinkles appeared.

Hilda wiped her forehead. “What do you want me to do?”

“You start, and I’ll give as much feetback as possible.”

I’ll try not to disappoint you more, Mom.

The girl cracked her knuckles. She grabbed the right foot and pressed her palm against the sole. As the long toes fanned back, Hilda took a deep breath.

She rubbed her hands up and down the foot, one hand on the sole, the other on the top. Her concentration rarely left the foot, and when it did, it was to see her mother’s reaction. So far, all Hilda had received was a slight smile. Deep down, she was expecting a frown since she’d never given a foot massage to anyone other than herself. With such limited experience, the chances of blowing her mom out of this world were next to zero.

However, as the massage continued, Whitelea began to nod her head.

“You’ve already put in more effort than when they rub my feet at the salon.”

“Am… Am I?”

“You know, they only touch your feet for maybe 30 seconds, then they move on. Hardly counts as a massage. But while you’re better, there’s lots of room for improvement.” She waited a minute while Hilda kneaded her sole before informing her. “It’s clear you know how to rub a foot, but you need to actually massage it. Squeeze it. Tug on my toes.”

Her words were Hilda’s command. Hilda first squeezed the arch with her right hand, then gently tugged on her mother’s toes with her left hand. Soon she was making the movements in unison, once every one and a half seconds. Her rhythm faltered, however, when she saw that Whitelea’s expression hadn’t changed much.

I’m squeezing like she said. Doesn’t it feel better?

So little had changed that Whitelea had returned to finishing her meal while she watched her daughter. Hilda, her heart racing, increased the speed of her massage.

Wait… I’m so stupid.

The previously frantic hands took a break. They returned at a slower pace, back to a system where when the right hand was in action, the left hand stopped. Now Whitelea’s arch was squeezed before the toes were pulled, but this time each action would last for four seconds. This meant that for one minute, Whitelea’s toes or arch received attention seven to eight times. And between the strokes, that satisfying pressure had time to register.

As the first moan escaped Whitelea’s lips, a dorky grin spread across Hilda’s face.

With the right foot relaxed, she moved onto the left one. The foot was just as massive as its twin, but Hilda noticed one key difference.

“Mom, you’re treating your right foot like royalty with that ring, but what’s going on here?”

“You know I usually barefoot it if I’m just going to Accumula Town. My left foot just takes a worse beating.”

Hilda ran the tip of her finger along the ball of the foot. While most of the foot was as soft as dough, this part was rough as a road. In fact, Whitelea had calluses along much of the top half of her sole and on her heel. But they were nothing more than rough skin.

Before continuing, Hilda put her hand to her nose.

They do smell a bit, yeah…

“Here goes.” She largely repeated her practised technique on the left foot, with a small change in that she varied the pace. Not only did this keep her from feeling like a robot, but Whitelea moved noticeably more when Hilda played with the speed. Four minutes of rubbing later, Hilda’s body was more than ready for more. “I hope that felt good.”

Whitelea sighed, pressing her sweaty soles together. “They feel much less tense…”

“Can I…” Hilda scoffed, grabbing the left foot. “I gotta see what this smells like!”

With her nose against her mother’s toes, Hilda snorted like a Tepig ready to spew flames. It was so intense it made Whitelea do a double take.

Hilda took sniff after sniff. The aroma that went up her nose was nothing short of intoxicating. Although she sensed a bit of lotion—vanilla scented—it was largely masked by the raw odour of Whitelea’s natural feet. They stunk enough to keep Hilda on her toes but weren’t so harsh as to make her faint.

“Mmmmmmm…” She continued after kissing the sole.

She pressed her face into the whole foot, letting the sole’s musk flood her nostrils with a smile. The grip she held on Whitelea’s foot was tight, so much so that Whitelea had to slap Hilda with her other foot to remind her of its existence. Yet as soon as Hilda took a sniff of the right foot, she returned to the left one even stronger.

“This one smells better.” Sweeping her nose against the drier sections had quickly become her favourite part.

“I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen you this excited.”

“Let me smell your feet after a long run, and it’ll make me look like I was calm on this day.” Hilda giggled as she took her last few sniffs. Massaging the feet had filled her with joy. Their smell left a strong impression on her. But a true foot worship experience wouldn’t be complete without the ultimate act. Placing her mouth on the left foot’s heel, she sighed.

The dry heel slowly grazed her tongue. When she reached the middle of it, the rough texture transitioned into a smooth one over which her tongue could efficiently slide.

Whitelea stared with eyes widened. While her daughter continued to lap at her heel like a dog, she felt her body tingle. She then suddenly gasped, leaning back further into the couch. Every time Hilda’s small mouth swallowed her massive heel, Whitelea let out a sound. Not one of these noises was a stop sign for Hilda, for she loudly moaned once the taste of the foot began to register.

Fuck, it tastes so much better when it’s off someone else’s foot, the girl thought, gulping. Especially the jam or ‘sandal dirt’ or whatever she wants to call it.

Having soaked much of the left foot’s heel, Hilda commenced her ascent. Her tongue drooped out her mouth and flattened itself against the sole. All the wrinkles gave the muscle its own little massage while it travelled to the ball of the foot. Of course, Hilda wasn’t content to only lick the sole once. Not twice, not thrice. She repeatedly made a trip from the upper half of the sole to the heel, her speed greatly varied. When she went fast, she noticed Whitelea began to laugh more; this was especially true when Hilda’s teeth grazed the foot. But at slow speeds, Hilda lustfully looked at her mother.

She enjoyed taking her time to savour every element of the foot. From the pungent taste to the salt-like specks of dirt, it was like a five-star meal made specifically for her. Seeing her mother calm, now with eyes shut rather than being perplexed, was the cherry on top.

“I’m gonna clean both your feet,” she moaned, taking a lengthy lick along the arch.

Once at the ball of the foot, Hilda sucked on it. She sucked harder and harder until her cheeks went blue. So thoroughly licked was this meaty section of the foot, a glob of spit heavily dripped from it when she backed up.

Whitelea had opened her eyes to watch her daughter now suck on her toes.

It was as if she was watching Hilda in her toddler days, where anyone’s feet would be her toy until she got bored. That cute face, the oh-so delightful squeals, the deep focus—all of them would be present in her. But this was an 18-year-old woman now.

Various thoughts flew through Whitelea’s mind. Was this the right thing to do? Was she making a grave mistake? Those answers were dictated on the future. What she was certain about was that whoever Hilda got together with would love her as a partner.

Whether it was the way her slimy tongue could force its way between two toes or how she stroked the foot while she kissed it, Hilda’s techniques were the definition of relaxing.

Whitelea slowly wiggled her toes in Hilda’s mouth.

“Mmm! MMM!” Grasping the foot harder, Hilda drained all the toes of their sweat.

“You like that?”

“Mmm-hmm.” Hilda’s tongue slid between the digits, searching for more grime to eat. “It’d be better if you forced your feet in my mouth.”

“Okay.”

Whitelea shoved her big toe back into Hilda’s mouth, this time with the other four joining the party. Hilda’s eyes bugged as her mouth stretched to its limits. But Whitelea continued to wiggle her toes, all while laughing at her daughter’s situation. If the absurdity ended there, she’d only be chuckling. But Hilda continued to rub Whitelea’s right foot as she choked on the left one, all while looking into her mother’s blue eyes.

“Suck my feet, Hilda.”

“Yeah, keep saying that, Mom!” Hilda bobbed her head up and down on the long foot.

Whitelea smirked. “Suck my feet. Suck on Mom’s crusty toes, baby. Suck ‘em.”

These various commands strengthened Hilda’s desire to please. She’d managed to fit half of Whitelea’s left foot in her mouth, with the tips of the toes tickling the back of her throat. Hilda proceeded to give her mother a sloppy sucking for two minutes before gasping for a fresh breath of air. As spit dribbled down her chin, she immediately squeezed the right foot.

She smelt it some more, moaning at the feel of the sweaty sole against her face.

“Fuck me…”

Her heart raced through the roof as she licked the top and sides of the right foot. The sole could come soon, but Hilda wasn’t content to leave a single inch of this foot unsoaked. And judging from Whitelea’s smile, her mother wouldn’t do anything to stop her from getting her way.

Except for yanking her foot from Hilda, causing the trainer to scrunch her face.

“Mom!”

“If you want it, ask nicely.”

Hilda bit her lip, sighing. “Can I please finish cleaning your feet?”

“Can I make this a bit more comfortable first?” Whitelea pushed the coffee table away, setting her feet flat on the ground. Once she pointed, her daughter was quick to slot into position.

On her back and under her mother’s feet, Hilda finally started to lick her right sole.

The taste was similar to the left one, albeit a bit less salty. Its cleaner nature meant that Hilda had less work to do. Yet one wouldn’t guess that from her passionate licking. From heel to toe, she was elated to have her tongue glide across the foot. And from this perspective, its weight could easily crush her face should she or Whitelea have forced it to.

As if she read her child’s mind, Whitelea did just that. “Slow it down a bit, Hilda.”

Hilda gave her a thumbs up, moaning louder as she sniffed the smelly foot. Everything about this moment was perfect. The slow, romantic pacing of Hilda’s slimy licking. The way Whitelea pressed her foot into the girl’s face. The way the dirt and sweat mixed into an addicting treat for Hilda to swallow. Even simply seeing the sole from such a close distance brought Hilda pleasure—so much pleasure that she couldn’t help but squeeze her breasts.

Whitelea’s moaning joined her daughter’s. It was softer, more controlled and seemingly more innocent. But she’d begun to accept that having Hilda suck on her feet felt better than any standard foot massage she’d received.

“Oh, Hilda, between my toes…”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” the girl panted, fondling herself more as she cleaned between the giant toes. “They taste so good, Mom…”

“Lick them harder then.”

Hilda’s socked toes curled. Her body was quivering. How long could she be under her mother’s feet like this before she reached her limit? Especially since the more her mother played with her, the wilder she touched herself. Hilda had gone from simply squishing her chest to unabashedly feeling on her crotch. Her shorts were unzipped, and the wet sounds joined the long melody that was Hilda’s slurping.

She sucked the saltiness out the right foot’s big toe, popping it out her mouth to fit the other toes inside. When they were in there, Whitelea spread them as far as they could go.

“Mom…” Hilda’s breathing ramped up as she licked the foot. “Mmm… Mom?”

“You’re doing fine, honey.”

“Your toes…”

“You love them.” She wiggled the digits, moaning. “You just wanna suck them, smell them, kiss them and more. Say it, Hilda. Say you love Mommy’s big feet.”

“I love your feet, Mom…”

“Louder.”

“I love them…”

“Hilda, be a—”

“I love your big, smelly feet, Mom! I love sucking your dirty toes!”

“There we go,” Whitelea said with a smile.

“I love your feet! I love your feet!” Hilda repeated herself in between licks as her fingers worked faster in her pants. The more she strummed, the more she sang. And the harder Whitelea’s foot was pressed against her face, the more the girl’s body shook. “Oh… Oh…”

“Is that what I think it is?”

Hilda’s response was a series of a whimpers as she stuffed as many toes in her mouth as possible. Not just those from the right foot but from the left foot as well. Some constantly slid out, yet the trainer miraculously managed to fit at least seven in there at once. And while she sucked Whitelea’s feet, her legs kicked out. She squirmed on the floor, releasing the toes so she could inhale her mother’s delicious foot aroma. Hilda’s own toes scrunched like mad in the process, and she gave Whitelea a long kiss on the sole before fully collapsing.

The girl’s shorts made it look like she had a mini accident. And now that she was coming down from her high, everything hit her like a truck.

I just flicked the bean to my mom’s stinky feet… And she saw it!

She jumped to her feet. “Okay, I…”

“Be quiet, Hilda.” Whitelea hovered her spit-covered feet into the air, so her daughter could view her results. The light made it evident that Hilda had succeeded in cleaning the feet. There wasn’t the slightest hair, speck of dirt or filth stain anywhere on the 41-year-old’s soles. The same story was true for her toes, which she curled to make her daughter red again. Upon seeing Hilda’s look of guilt, Whitelea laughed.

“Mom, it’s not funny.”

“Yes, it is.” She poked Hilda with her toes. “If you can do this to feet, then I’m scared what you’ll do to a guy once his pants are off.”

Is that an insult or a compliment?

Whitelea had Hilda sit back on the couch, where she wrapped an arm around her. Hilda could only continue looking at her feet, but rather than be alarmed, Whitelea continued to smile.

“Cheer up. It may be a freaky side to you, but I enjoyed myself. The licking felt…interesting. And I know some guy out there’s gonna be very impressed with how deep you can take his foot in your mouth.”

“You actually liked that?” Hilda looked stunned.

Whitelea nodded. “Only thing I don’t like is that your breath smells really bad now.”

“Well, I kinda prefer like this…”

“What did we just talk about being shy?”

Hilda gulped. “I love that my breath smells like your stinky feet!”

Whitelea hugged her tighter. “That’s my girl. And now understanding this whole thing you’ve got going on, I’ve got an idea of what job you should do.”

***

At seven in the morning, Hilda launched out of bed and down the stairs. There, her mother was in the kitchen, preparing a quick breakfast for the 19-year-old.

Whitelea knew that Hilda was watching her dusty soles as she made her eggs and bacon. In fact, if any piece of food dropped onto the floor, Hilda would be quick to eat it just for a close up of those mature heels. It was routine for Whitelea to occasionally wiggle her toes, to give her daughter the energy boost she needed.

“I hope you’re schedule’s not busy today,” she said. “Because you need to clean your room. Again.”

“It’s gonna keep smelling like that. I will never forget returning to find all my shoes washed.”

“All your laundry shouldn’t be on the floor though, honey.” She served the dish. “Make it tidy this week, or I’m taking the Wii U.”

“Oh no, not the Wii U,” Hilda snickered. She snatched her plate up and gobbled her breakfast in half a minute. “I’ll be back by three, so yeah, I’ll get on it.”

The trip to Undella Town took over an hour via bus, but it was still better than risking being dropped by her Staraptor, which Whitelea had begun to train for Hilda. However, an hour of free time meant Hilda had an hour to check out the various feet on the bus. Women constantly boarded wearing pumps or sandals, and though few men exposed their feet, occasionally she’d find a barefoot boy to distract her mind. And once the bus screeched to a halt, she would jump off and take a brisk walk to her workplace.

Undella Dojang was normally closed on Monday, but Hilda had permission to use it if a student wanted to hone their skill.

Out of her civilian clothes and now in a white dobok, Hilda marched barefoot into the empty dojang. Today was a one-on-one session, with Hilda largely planning on observing things. Though if she had to show off some moves, she didn’t mind getting her feet dirty. The girl sat at green belt, representing over a year of training in the arts of taekwondo. Although she was still learning, appearing early every day and demonstrating quick proficiency with her pattern techniques allowed her to become an assistant with a decent payment.

“About time. Trying to kill me with boredom,” she said, tapping her toes.

A male approached, already dressed. “I would’ve been early if not for some problems in my own gym.”

“That Lillipup went crazy again?”

“Well, I warned the girl not to keep poking him. Some junior trainers must learn the hard way.”

Hilda stretched her back. “Now, we just gotta wait for—”

“Hey, you guys!” A yellow-haired girl stumbled into the dojang, dragging behind a bag with her dobok wrinkled and hanging out. “I was, like, busting my butt to iron this thing this morning. Didn’t exactly play out the way I wanted.”

“When is it ever a smooth morning for you?” The male chuckled as the girl began changing in front of the two.

Once all was ready to go, Hilda put on a serious face. With a shout, she clasped her hands together.

“Cheren! Bianca! Begin!”

They delivered blow after blow, Bianca’s kicks being a far slower than Cheren’s. Yet unlike Cheren, Bianca had the advantage of unpredictable borne of incompetence. And thanks to that, her sole slapped the man multiple times. Hilda stood with a smirk. Convincing her friends to participate in martial arts wasn’t the easiest, but she could be proud knowing she made one of the best decisions in her life.

Because after the match, which lasted all of eleven minutes, the two’s soles were grey. Then as the sparring continued, even Hilda participating, all of their soles were pitch black by the next hour.

The dojang was full of moaning now. Four feet were weighing down on Hilda’s body, all towards her head and chest. One foot from each student covered her face as she got to work. Not only was she busy inhaling the intoxicating aroma, but her tongue received the best gift of all. All of that dirt—dirt that had been cooking on their sweaty soles—was darkening her tongue by the second.

“It still tickles…” Bianca giggled, wincing as Hilda licked her arch. “Hahaha!”

“I’ll slow down. Here…”

“It’s fine, Hilda. Take your time. You know, I didn’t even have time to properly wash my feet last night.”

Hilda’s face turned red. “That’s why they reek then! Mmmmm… Fuck me…” She took a huge sniff on Bianca’s sole before smelling Cheren’s. “Hehe… Both of you… Just run these things all over my nose and tongue, everything…”

“Actually, Hilda, you never told us if you do this with all the students…”

“And that’s how I wanna keep it.” She kissed Cheren’s foot, a squeaky kiss at that. “You haven’t told anyone, have you?”

“No! Goodness, no! I don’t want you to end up having to break…every part of my body.” She gulped, staring at Hilda wonder. “It’s crazy how you can do all this without getting sick.”

“She does a lot of things we’ve never understood and never will.” Cheren looked away once Hilda’s tongue crept between his toes. Once she started to suck on them hard, he simply sighed with the faintest smile. “You will forever remain a weirdo, Hilda.”

“Thank you.”

And Hilda licked their vile feet until they were all dripping with saliva. Once they dried them on the mat, her friends left, continuing on with their day until the next proper meeting. But Hilda remained licking her lips in the dojang, as another student would arrive shortly. And who dared to spill the beans on Hilda’s actions when just a few kicks could leave their body looking like a twisted pretzel? With endless smelly feet coming her way and a well-paying job, at last, Hilda was living a comfortable life.