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“Come on! Go for it! Get the goal!” Mrs. Mason shouted out to her players. “Come on, we can’t get to championships with you playing like this!” Having always been the sporty type, it was almost natural that in addition to teaching P.E., she also headed one of the sports teams.

Most days, during the season, she’d spend hours after school coaching, a fact that Rose was hating. By now she should’ve been taken off but, she was still firmly under her P.E. teacher's foot. Though Mrs. Mason hardly cared, she was just a sneaker now, so why treat her any differently?

Never being the most athletic type, Rose hated gym class. A half semester of torture, forced to work out and feel below everyone else. In her hour most of the kids were jock types, only she and a few others weren’t athletic. They were a bunch of students that Mrs. Mason disliked.

Having been sporty her whole life, she was not one to sit there and let people not be, so she tried to get them as active as possible. She did so by primarily having them run more laps than anyone else at the start of class, something Rose absolutely hated. 

She was never a great runner, not having a good form with it, let alone being that fast. So, she found it tortuous spending most of the hour running. After weeks of this, she was fed up. So much so that during another day of gym she confronted Mrs. Mason about it. 

A confrontation that lasted all of a few seconds before she was done with her. In one swift move, she transformed Rose into a sneaker. She promptly discarded one of her own and put her on in its place before continuing back with her class. 

Rose was nothing but shocked. How the hell was she allowed to do this to her, why did she do this to her? All questions that were plaguing her mind. As she got angry and angrier under her teacher’s sole, she began to notice something.

The longer she was worn, the more apparent the taste and smell of her foot was. Sure, she was wearing a sock over it, but that only partially covered it. She was forced to taste the older woman’s dry sole, her acrid sweat, and smell the ever-pungent musk of her feet.

The tastes and smells soon grew unbearable, but with no way out of this, she was forced to endure. Even after spending the rest of the school as her shoe, she wasn’t done yet, Mrs. Mason had a practice session with her team that night, a session that was to last four hours. 

Though, she began to believe that she wasn’t going to transform her back. With how carelessly she had treated she assumed this was going to be her new, permanent form. Mrs. Mason did however plan to transform her back, at some point. Not tomorrow but later, at the end of the semester, two and a half months from now.

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