The long hours working as a programmer has its ups and downs. For one thing, overtime pay stacks up a lot. However, being cooped up in an office day in and day out is mentally taxing. To improve the office environment, the company mandated Friday as dress-down day, or as we employees call it: Flip Flop Friday, as we are allowed to dress down and look casual, even going as far as letting us wear flip flops.

The company did not anticipate how mentally taxing it is for foot fetishists like me to keep focusing on my work instead of my co-workers' feet. Imagine trying to code a program surrounded by good-looking feet, I just can't help but look. My train of thought keeps getting interrupted, especially by Colin, the guy I share a cubicle with, and the reason why I always look forward to Flip Flop Friday. To say Colin's feet were hot was an understatement. Tapered legs with pronounced ankles ending in a pair of slender size 14s with round heels, high arches, long toes and the most perfect nailbeds. For a guy, his feet were very well taken care of. Often times, the most distracting habit Colin has is his propensity for crossing his leg over his knee and shaking his foot, which would oftentimes end with his flip flop falling off with a soft thud, exposing his immaculate pink sole that contrasted well with his pale arch. I've observed him do this over a hundred times, and my favorite was when he wiggled his toes vigorously, trying to resolve a bug that arose during our development time. His aggressive toe-wiggling sent waves of erotic aroma to my waiting nostrils.

One night, I was left behind in the cubicle, catching up on work after a bad cold. I decided to stay until around midnight while I finished the pile-up, Colin decided to leave at around 8 PM after cleaning up. I noticed however, that as he stood up and said goodbye, he was not wearing his leather work shoes. On his feet were a pair of running shoes, probably for his late night jog. I also took note of the fact that he was wearing a different pair of socks. After he left, and a quick look around to see if I was alone, I turned my head toward his desk and lo and behold, a pair of black leather shoes were placed there. I approached Colin's desk slowly, momentarily forgetting about the work that I still needed to do, and picked up a shoe. Inside was a sock. One that's been on his feet for around 12 hours today. I could hardly contain my excitement as a took it out and sniffed hard, taking it all in. The smell of sweat and leather was enough to get me excited. I placed the sock back inside the shoe and continued my work, trying as fast as I can to finish. As I waited for the code to compile, I went back to Colin's shoes and pocketed his socks for my own personal use. I finished my testing the code, and made my way home.

After getting home, I placed the socks inside a ziplock bag for safe keeping, and formulated a plan to make Colin's feet mine for the taking.



Flip Flop Friday came, and I eagerly waited for Colin as I stared at my computer screen. Sadly, Colin did not arrive wearing flip flops. On his feet were a pair of well-worn boat shoes, a pair that he would wear occasionally if he did not fancy wearing flip flops. Incidentally, it was one of his oldest pairs of shoes. This bode well for my plan, the mere thought of Colin's feet sweating inside his old, well-worn shoes for long hours made me hunger more for them. I can't wait to smell those babies after work.

Hour after hour, my excitement grew, until around 7 when Colin decided to pack up. Taking the queue I also began packing up, and invited Colin over for a few drinks. Being the all-around friendly guy that he was, he obliged. Soon, Colin's feet will be mine once and for all.

We got into the car and started talking. As I drove our way out of the parking building we were met by an hour long traffic jam, something not uncommon in this godforsaken country. Colin, in an effort to make himself at home, asked for permission to take his shoes off. I gladly said yes, and moments later I was rewarded with the scent of Colin's sweaty feet as it had filled the car. He was seemingly oblivious, while I enjoyed myself. He took notice of this.

"You like feet, don't you?" he said.

"I wasn't subtle with it," I admitted, blushing a little.

"I noticed," he said with a hearty laugh, relieving some of the tension, "don't worry, I like feet too. You've got quite a pair yourself."

"Thanks," I said.

"Well, I'm up for a little footplay if your down for it."

"Definitely. But I must warn you, I may be a bit... unconventional."

He laughed. "What could possibly go wrong?"

Oh, for you? Everything. I thought, grinning like a wolf.



I opened the door and let him in first. As he stood there looking at my living room, I tased him. He collapsed, not quite unconscious, but somewhat paralyzed. I caught him before he fell and held his head in a chokehold until he was rendered unconscious. I dragged his body down to my basement and strapped him to a table custom-built with a pair of stocks on one end. I locked his ankles in, gagged him and strapped his body down. I took off his shoes, which will be joining his socks in my collection, and took a deep whiff, the smell alone driving my sex drive into a frenzy. I set aside his well-worn boat shoes and placed my nose between his big and second toe, the scent stronger than his shoes. I planted my lips on the arch and let my tongue slip out. He started moaning as I used my rough tongue to explore every crease in his soles. I let my lips wrap around his round heels and suck them, the taste beyond compare. I let my tongue slide up and down his perfectly shaped heels. I've become so engrossed that I started to nibble a bit, but not enough to cause significant pain. I slid my tongue out, and starting from the heel, dragged my tongue up all the way to his long toes, eliciting a long moan out of Colin. I sucked each one starting from the big toe, and used my tongue to feel the underside of the toe, and after that the nailbeds. As I moved from toe to toe, I would dart my tongue out between his toes, causing him to giggle. Once done, I did the same to the other foot.

After thoroughly enjoying myself with Colin's feet, I took custom-fit plastic squares that slide into the stocks, encasing each foot in a transparent box with a small panel on top. I went up and retrieved a bucket of silicone mold. I poured the silicone inside the glass box, encasing his feet along with his ankles, in goop. I picked up his shoes and left him there overnight for the cast to set, so I can make a pair of toys modeled from Colin's sexy feet.

Before I went to bed, I placed Colin's shoes inside a room filled with different feet. Shelves contained feet made out of silicone, and beside each pair of silicone feet were the socks and shoes that graced the original. Attached to the right feet's pinky toes were tags that contained age, foot size and gender. There were a few female feet, but the majority were male feet, each very detailed, down to the toe prints and ridges. I took one final sniff of Colin's shoes and retired to bed.

The next day, I slid off the plastic boxes and cut open the mold, for use at a later time. For now, however, Colin's feet needed attention.  As I cut his feet free, he awoke, and looked at me. His eyes were relieved that our little foot game was done. He did not know how wrong he was.

I took a hacksaw from my tool cabinet and approached his feet. Colin's eyes grew wide as I placed the saw on his left leg, an inch above his ankle and started sawing. His muffled screams emanated from the gag as I slowly guided the saw through his leg. The saw hesitated as I hit bone, and his screams grew louder as I sawed harder, faster, his foot tensed with every stroke, until I felt the saw pass through bone. I let go and let his feet hang by his achilles tendon. I took hold of his other foot and started sawing, deliberately slowing it down so I can feel every convulsion, every spasm of his right foot as it separated from his leg. I looked at his face and grinned, and his tears kept falling. Once I got through the bone I left it hanging from his tendon, just as with the other foot. I took a pair of cooking shears and snipped at the tendon, letting his feet fall at the bloody mess with a small thud and a little sploosh. I picked them up and washed them by the sink, massaging the blood out of the stump. I placed a foot on each side of where his head was and smiled at him. I removed his gag, and all he could croak out was "Why?". And the only answer I gave him was a smile as I grabbed his chin with one hand, and placed my other hand on his temple, and with a quick jerk, snapped his neck. His body gave out one final spasm as all life left his body, his bloody leg stumps still bleeding.

I phoned in my friend, and whispered a code phrase: "A cat is in the bag."

"Affirmative," a gruff voice replied. Tonight, a friend will come and carve up Colin's body, erasing evidence that he was ever here. But for now, I can focus on the delicacies waiting for me for lunch.

I took Colin's feet up to the bathroom with me for a little playtime. His feet were still warm, and his rough heels felt good rubbing against my head. I placed his soles together and pushed my dick through, in between the arches. His feet felt so soft, so good. In no time at all, I reached a climax.

I cleaned Colin's feet up, and dried them with a towel. I prepared a garlic herb butter rub and started to massage the mixture into Collin's severed feet. I made sure to cover the little creases on his soles, and paid his toes a lot of attention. Once I was satisfied, I placed his feet on a rack and placed it in the oven and let his feet cook.

Moments later, as I opened the oven door, a pool of Colin's foot juices gathered beneath the rack and on the pan. I placed his feet soles up and side by side on a plate. I put a sizeable scoop of mashed potatoes between where his arches met. I took the pan where the juices gathered and drizzled it on top of my meal. I inhaled, the aroma was simply divine.

I took out a knife and fork and dug in. I skewered his pinky toe and sawed it off with my knife. I placed the toe in my mouth, bone and all, and savored the soft meat. The meat fell from the bone, which I spat out. As I bit down on the toe, the juices inside exploded in my mouth, filling my tongue with flavor. I cut my way through the next three toes one by one, each toe an explosion in my mouth. When I reached the big toe, I sliced off the toe pad, my second favorite part, and placed it on my waiting mouth. I made my way up, savoring the ball, the sole, and the soft, tender arch, leaving my favorite part for last. His round heels were juicy, and so tender that it practically melts in your mouth. I picked up the foot and picked away at the top and the ankles, extracting what little meat was left. I turned the foot around so that the ankle pointed toward me and bit down on the very chewy achilles tendon. Soon all that was left of Colin's right foot were a pile of white bones.

I sighed contentedly, Colin's size 14 foot was too much. I took some tin foil and wrapped Collin's remaining foot to enjoy for dinner tonight. I went down to retrieve the mold to make some toys to add to my collection. While there, I looked toward Collin, his face permanently locked in an expression of terror.

I looked him in his dead expressionless eyes and said: "Thank you for your feet, Collin, they were very good."