I woke up. It was dark and a faint odor hung in the air. Strangely, I couldn't move my arms and legs. I realized I was gagged and tied down to a metal table in the middle of the room. On either side of me were shelves, what was in them I couldn't quite make out. Down the table, where my feet were pointing, was a metal door in one of those sci-fi movies. It slid open with a hiss and a man entered.

"Ah, I can see you're awake," said the man.

His voice seemed vaguely familiar, like I should know who he was but I couldn't remember. He turned on the lights. And I can finally make out what the shelves contained. My blood went cold as I realized where the faint odor was coming from.

Feet.

I noticed they were all male, all of them severed above the ankle. There were caucasian feet, black feet, hispanic feet, basically feet in all shapes and sizes. Strangely though, there were only right feet and each foot were placed atop a wooden base, as though they were trophies. On each base was a plaque with a name and a number etched on it.

The man saw the look on my face and smiled like a wolf. He walked to one of the shelves and picked up a foot. The plaque read: "Nick, 13". The foot was huge, with a well-wrinkled sole, curvy arch, smooth, rounded heels and long toes. He took a sniff between the big toe and the second toe, and the foot twitched, as though still part of a person. He ran his tongue across the sole and the foot wiggled its toes. He placed it back on the shelf.

"That was Nick. He had a promising career as a business man. I remember the day I first smelled his socked feet fresh out of his size 13 leather shoes," the man said, "I've always adored leather shoes, they give feet such a nice aroma. In fact, his foot still smells the same as they did 5 years ago!"

"I've always adored sneakers too," he spoke as he placed his hands on my sneakers.

My heart was racing and I was sweating hard. Cold fear gnawed at my belly. I could feel my hands and feet go damp out of sheer fear. Something in the back of my head knew I won't be getting out of this alive.

"Do you like my little toys, boy?" he asked, "you're probably wondering how these feet are still 'alive'?"

I just stared at him with big, fearful eyes, pleading for my life.

"Nanobots!" he exclaimed with such pride, as though he was overcome with triumph with his own creation.

"I inject my babies into the feet before I cut them off, and once the feet have been severed, the nanobots keep them animated and preserved. I keep the right feet in the shelves as trophies of the many men whose feet I adored. And the left feet? Let's just say I'm a pretty good cook."

He started undoing the laces on my shoes.

"I can't wait to cut into your flesh with my trusty hacksaw!"

I struggled against my bonds and moved my feet and wiggled my toes, all in a desperate attempt to get away, but it was no use.

"That's it, struggle! I love how the feet looks so helpless as I tear into your leg!"

He slipped of my shoes and sniffed one of them.

"Hmmmm.." he sighed dreamily, "these smell perfect! These will be perfect for my collection!"

My socked feet were still moving wildly.

"Those curves on your feet," he exclaimed, "they're beautiful! Move them for me, boy!"

He grabbed the elastic on my right foot and began to slowly remove ankle sock letting his hand trace the rounded heel, the dip in the arch and finally, the ball.

"Your soles are smooth and perfect!"

He removed my left sock and sniffing both my feet with gusto. My heart was racing hard. I needed to get out of here. I have to... !!

My thoughts were interrupted as I felt his tongue glide across both my feet as he slid his tongue from left to right through my arches. His tongue flickered in and out as he licked between my toes. He began to suck each with so much force, as if he's trying to tear my toe off with the sheer power of his lungs.

"Your toes taste exquisite! I must have them at once!"

He pulled out a syringe from his coat pocket and jabbed my right leg. I feel the heat of a thousand nanobots go down my leg as they made their way to my right foot. He then picked up a hacksaw from his tool table, grabbed my right foot and placed the toothed blade on my leg, just above the ankle.

"Say goodbye to your feet, boy!"

At the first stroke I began to scream through my gag. The pain was unbearable! My feet tensed with each stroke. I wanted to pass out, but I couldn't.

"There's no passing out, boy!" he screamed maniacally, "The drug on the injection makes sure of that! I want to feel every twitch of your feet as I saw through your leg!"

His mad cackle mixed with my terrible screams in a cacophony of horror as he felt every twitch of my feet, blood gushing everywhere. As the blade was halfway through my leg, my foot stopped moving, but I could feel every stroke of the saw cutting into my flesh and bone. At last, with one final stroke, he cut through my Achilles' tendon, completely severing my foot.

He pulled out a soft, damp towel from a hanger by the door and began to wipe the blood of my severed right foot. Once he was done, he took a quick sniff and placed my foot on the empty spot on the shelf labeled: "Dan, 12", wiggling its toes happily as if it were happy to be home at last.

My heartbeat felt weak. My face was covered in tears and pant leg was soaked with blood. I was breathing raggedly. My throat was raspy from all the screaming. I wanted to die, to escape from the pain, but the madman's medicine made sure that I would feel everything.

The madman traced his finger on the sole of my remaining foot. And thunk! All of a sudden I was aware of a searing pain on my leg. I couldn't feel my foot and I screamed all over again. He bent over to pick up his prize.

He took a sniff, placed my foot on a platter and walk toward my head. On his other hand he still held the cleaver he used to chop my left foot off. He brought it up and chopped my head off, and then there was black nothingness.