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text:

I let out an annoyed sigh as I lay in bed and recounted what my sister had just said at the end of our argument: 'You wouldn't last a week in my shoes.' Yeah, as if working as a delivery driver is so hard, I wish I could spend a week in her shoes just to show her how wrong she is...

The sound of two feet jumping out of their bed and stomping to the bathroom woke me up, causing my eyes to flutter open to see the view from a hole surrounded by darkness. I immediately noticed the strong smell of something cheesy as I frantically tried to move my body, quickly finding my arms and legs no longer there. I looked around and tried to figure out where I was. I could just about make out what seemed to be my sister's ceiling. Did she do this to me?

I could hear the sounds of what I assumed was my sister brushing her teeth before spitting into the sink and heading towards me. I tried to shout out for help, but much like my limbs, my mouth was missing. "Fuck, I'm gonna be so late." I watched as my sister's face came into view. I started to get worried as I noticed her head becoming overshadowed by my most hated body part. Her foot.

"Guess I'm skipping the shower today." She murmured as her foot lowered and began entering the hole, blocking any source of light from entering my prison. It was at this moment that I finally realised that I must have turned into her insole; that would explain the smell, which had gotten notably worse with the addition of her clammy sole. I found out that my taste buds seemed to still exist as the bitter yet sour taste of my sister's foot sweat was absorbed into my body.

I could feel the vibrations of her tying up my laces above before quickly speed walking out of her room. Every step she took filled me with dread and disgust, the fresh movement seemingly heated up the insole enough for the old dormant smell to become active again, quickly giving me a new, exotic stench to smell and taste.

I had only been her insole for a few minutes before realising that my sister was right—I wouldn't last a week in her shoes.

Description
I do roleplay session: www.deviantart.com/femboyharpo…

Consider supporting me by subscribing to one of my tiers and gain extra captions! www.deviantart.com/femboyharpo…

Check out my links here: linktr.ee/hungryharpoon

pic source: Giantess Tiny Village

text:

I let out an annoyed sigh as I lay in bed and recounted what my sister had just said at the end of our argument: 'You wouldn't last a week in my shoes.' Yeah, as if working as a delivery driver is so hard, I wish I could spend a week in her shoes just to show her how wrong she is...

The sound of two feet jumping out of their bed and stomping to the bathroom woke me up, causing my eyes to flutter open to see the view from a hole surrounded by darkness. I immediately noticed the strong smell of something cheesy as I frantically tried to move my body, quickly finding my arms and legs no longer there. I looked around and tried to figure out where I was. I could just about make out what seemed to be my sister's ceiling. Did she do this to me?

I could hear the sounds of what I assumed was my sister brushing her teeth before spitting into the sink and heading towards me. I tried to shout out for help, but much like my limbs, my mouth was missing. "Fuck, I'm gonna be so late." I watched as my sister's face came into view. I started to get worried as I noticed her head becoming overshadowed by my most hated body part. Her foot.

"Guess I'm skipping the shower today." She murmured as her foot lowered and began entering the hole, blocking any source of light from entering my prison. It was at this moment that I finally realised that I must have turned into her insole; that would explain the smell, which had gotten notably worse with the addition of her clammy sole. I found out that my taste buds seemed to still exist as the bitter yet sour taste of my sister's foot sweat was absorbed into my body.

I could feel the vibrations of her tying up my laces above before quickly speed walking out of her room. Every step she took filled me with dread and disgust, the fresh movement seemingly heated up the insole enough for the old dormant smell to become active again, quickly giving me a new, exotic stench to smell and taste.

I had only been her insole for a few minutes before realising that my sister was right—I wouldn't last a week in her shoes.