Three Years + Forever | Fleeting Humanity

Three Years + Forever | Fleeting Humanity

Grunts and moans echoed throughout a small apartment. Though loud and pronounced, the sounds never extended beyond the brick walls. It had started merely 10 minutes ago, not long after a worn pair of black sandals had been licked clean and neatly placed by the front door.

Patches of saliva left the surfaces moist but free of debris. Even with the ceiling fan spinning above, the enhanced airflow did little to advance drying. The young bottom had done a good job tonight. Mr. Torres' sandals were ready for another use. And for it, the twink's ass would be set ablaze by the advances of a well hung, 46-year-old man.

It disgusted the living sandals beyond no end to violated by a man's tongue like that. A little over a year ago, the former human named Lane had been the one to receive Diego's loads. A misguided decision brought upon by an ultimatum left the living footwear with little choice - either say goodbye to enticing wide size 11 feet or take a permanent role at them. Unable to part with the hardened soles, Lane made a choice the former human quickly regretted.

Diego feared his wife might become wise to the one-sided relationship of tongue foot cleanings and blow jobs the man had with Lane. To silence any chances, Diego opted for new footwear, leaving Lane unable to spill the secret. But months afterwards, Mr. Torres couldn't go without his side action and easily picked up a replacement, with the added benefit of another hole to shove his dick into.

The living footwear resented Diego for this, especially the bottom. But just as much as the former human hated it, love for the man’s demanding feet remained strong. By now, Diego's feet were perfectly imaged in the sandals, offering superior comfort manufactured footwear couldn't provide. Matching the curves of the man’s soles did little to stifle the pain, though. Just like day one, being plowed into the hard ground remained painful and disorienting.

But, being stomped on and abused wasn't the worst part. It was the psychological issues presented to the sandals that hurt the most. The former college student's home was next to Diego's. That meant seeing Lane's mother and father at times. Without them knowing their flesh and blood had become the surface Diego walked on, after a year of being missing, Lane was formally declared dead.

Diego hid Lane's situation well, even though it was essentially out in the open for anyone to see. He played along with the parents' plight, giving them hope in finding Lane and lending a hand searching for the college student permanently stuck to his feet.

Eventually these attempts to locate Lane became less and then none at all. The two lost hope and started coming to terms with Lane never returning home. After legally being declared dead, they held a service and buried a symbolic casket in the cemetery. While the former human wasn't part of those services, since Mr. Torres dressed up, Diego did return to the gravesite later and walk all over it with the living sandals hugging his feet.

Eventually Lane's parents moved away. Diego helped them pack, using their missing son as proper foot support lifting heavy boxes and moving furniture. The former human cried internally at all of this, especially watching from the hot street surface as the moving truck and its parents drove away, all while Diego waved goodbye.

With only Mr. Torres' wide feet for company and family, the living sandals could do nothing more than simply exist in a lust filled state that felt wrong but also very right. The very man that wrecked the former human's life gave the sandals purpose but also destroyed it further with the natural degradation footwear goes through.

After 30 minutes of hard pounding, Diego finally blew and cleaned up. Every visit was transactional. No love. Just use and pleasure. The twink was filled with cum and in need of a plug.

Nothing more but always less, if Diego decided so.

Before long, Diego appeared and jammed his sweaty feet into the sandals. The living footwear winced in pain as the titan's soles sunk into the abused leather vessels. As he grabbed the door handle to leave, Diego turned back to the twink who stumbled out of the bedroom, still sore from taking it.

"This place needs to be cleaned better if you want me to come by again. Got it?" Diego said sternly, digging his toes painfully into the sandals.

"Yes sir," the bottom replied immediately.

Mr. Torres promptly left the small apartment and stomped to his vehicle. A text message from his wife awaited him, asking if he would be home soon after spending the evening out with the boys. Knowing his reason for being out was nothing more than an excuse, he replied back and took off from the apartment. Another message appeared shortly after, with one emoji the two used to depict sex.

Immediately Diego got hard again thinking about sex with his wife. This translated to heavy pounding against the foot pedals, leaving the living footwear withering in pain and wishing to have its former life back...

This is a sequel to the older story Three Years + Forever.

Could you transform me into a soccer tracksuit for a soccer player ?

Hope this is enough!

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I can always bring all my gang with myself. Guys loves when I transform them into various articles of clothing and hide them from outer world. We are able to save a lot of money at tickets to cinema (when I change them into bracelets and rings), planes (usually they spent a time as my wardrobe), aqua parks (when we pass guards making my friends into flip-flops and shorts).

Today we are going to the high society club. Richard suggested to change them into sneakers and socks, pass security and change them back. Well. Here we are...

....

Next morning

.....

Damn. I hate hangovers. Why did I drunk so much? Ohhh. My head is gonna explode now. I drunk some pill and stopped before the pair of sneakers and socks, folded on it.

Something familiar. Where did these come from? Maybe my brother left them here? Better get it into wash.