Based on @Zafvod 's humie’s series. 

Text:

Thanks to the recent state of her financial matters Veronica applied for the one job she always found disgusting, that being a humie. Not only was it disgusting but just absolutely dehumanizing. Who in their right mind would agree to be treated as nothing but footwear for a few measly bucks, at least she thought so.

A couple of years later, she was now face up waiting for her new owner to put her on. She frankly didn’t know what to expect, sure, Humie Inc. did explain to what would normally happen but even then it was pretty lackluster. All they really talked about was trying to find some way to not mind all the extremities that come from her wearer’s feet.

Not only was this foreign but the whole process of being transformed was. Being fed into the machine as if she was nothing but a bit of metal to be shaped was quite the trip, especially when her body became essentially shapeless. She could feel around her but she felt kind of like a liquid. After that was the actual molding of her body.

Set into a cast of a pair of shoes and essentially transforming into them. As she was taken out of the machine she caught a quick glimpse of herself and there was nothing special about her, she was then just a pair of black flats. Soon thereafter she was put into her box and shipped out to her first client.

You see, this was Veronica’s test drive. Unlike most humies she was now a volunteer, mainly to see what this possible career path would entail. She’d get out of this and be rich in only foot funk. After what felt like days she arrived at her owner’s doorstep. Like most humie customers she was a woman.

She was decently old, over 50, and seemingly alone. As soon as she was alleviated from her box she was greeted by the scowl of the older woman who only looked upon her with contempt. “All right, let me just get straight to the point. From this moment until I send you back you are mine.”

“You’ve ceased to be a human, you’re now just my shoes.” Without any further ado, the woman dropped her and carelessly let her hit the floor. Using her toes to maneuver the transformed woman, she got her into place before sticking her aged feet into her. The feeling of the wrinkly soles entering her body would’ve sent a shiver down her spine.

The rough feet invaded her insides, her body forced to contain every bit of them. Immediately the taste began to set in, alongside the inner feelings. With a majority of her body being her insoles now, she was given unfettered access to the older woman’s soles. Every inch of which she could taste.

From toe to heel her ‘mouth’ was subjected to the stale feet, a fowl taste punctuated by specks of acquired dirt and debris. If she could gag she would, but now couldn’t. She couldn’t even outwardly be disgusted. The woman was right, now she was just a pair of shoes.

A pair of shoes who couldn’t wait to be promptly taken off her feet. Although, terrifyingly, Veronica took a while to admit one thing to herself. If this was the average experience, then she wouldn’t mind being a humie. This was disgusting and all but bearable. Bearable enough to make a few measly bucks.

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