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It isn’t every day that you wake up to find you’ve been transformed into a shoe, but I’ve gotten used to it. That’s as if I had any choice on if I find myself underfoot which, more often than not, I don’t. Nope, I don’t, I can’t even choose to become footwear.

I’m a shapeshifter after all. Though, unlike most, I don’t have total control over what I can become. Yes, I’m able to will my body into anything I can think of, but so can everyone else. All they have to do is say “Mary become this” and boom, I transform into what they say.

It’s tough but I’ve gotten through it, even during the worst of it in high school, but anyway. With how much it can affect me, I barely tell anyone about what I am, only those I really trust. That’s to say that they are careful with me, which they aren’t.

Then again, they are better than my ex. Before we had broken up, me and Amy had gotten pretty close, and I was going to propose to her. Because of that, I had told her what I was. After we parted our ways I expected I wasn’t going to be used by her ever again, but we soon both discovered that wasn’t the case.

Not only did I not have to be in the room for my body to listen to what someone said, but my body forced me to stay in whatever form I was in until the person using me was satisfied. This wouldn’t be so bad if Amy wasn’t such a cold-hearted bitch.

Ever since we split I’ve found myself in her possession. Whether as workout clothes, socks, or, her favorite of my forms, shoes. She’s made me all manner of them, flats, sandals, heels, and sneakers. I’ve gotten pretty familiar with feet.

Today, I find myself once again back underfoot. This time she transformed me into a pair of sneakers, pretty typical of her. I was greeted by her foot above my face before she put me on. I’m not even shocked about this anymore. This has all gotten pretty normal. 

Although disgusting, the taste and smell of whatever her foot produces have gotten bearable. My face usually ends up on my insole, as with today, so I’m blinded whenever she puts me on. Having no way to see where I’m going, I can do nothing but resign myself to being my ex’s shoe for the day, so much for being a shapeshifter.

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