Comms open: Commission Sheet

Text:

Back at his house after a long run, Olivier almost immediately kicked off his shoes. Not simply because he was done with his workout, though that in a small part did persuade him to, mainly due to his socks, they weren’t just a regular pair but one of his transformed pairs.

Given his status as not only a highly skilled warlock but quite a hot guy, he had people lined up in droves to gain access to his magic. A large chuck of which wanted his transformation services, particularly the type that would lead them to be used by him.

Veronica and Brad were one such couple. Since finding his profile on Tinder, the two had sought out his services. Although unlike most of his ‘clients’ they wanted to become his footwear. Most simply wanted to become his underwear or some sort of workout gear, but these two?

They wanted more than anything to become a pair of his socks. Quite adamant about it, they pestered him about until he ultimately agreed. So, in short order, they became just another pair of socks among many, for the time being.

From the moment she had been but on, Veronica had been loving it. Having made no secret about her foot fetish, she was enjoying being just a helpless foot receptacle. For years she had longed to get under a guy’s foot, her entire body made to service its whims.

Now she had gotten it. Little more than a sock for her new god. Her entire being now focused on comforting his sole, sucking up his foot sweat, and being a barrier for his perfect feet. It was quite enjoyable when he worked out in her, with him not giving her a care in the world. Why would he, he was now her sock.

Brad on the other hand was a little pricked about the whole thing. Yes, he did find his new god extremely hot. Yes, he did want to become his sock, but he hadn’t realized all that came with a sock. He knew he’d be worn for quite a while but hadn’t factored in all the sweat.

Especially when Oliver worked out. When he did, in no time his now cotton body was filled with bucket after bucket load of sweat. His body became wet and weighed down by it. But that wasn’t overall that bad. Sure, the taste was sort of disgusting but there was nothing he could do about it.

No, he would have to live through it. Socks don’t have a say in that so why would he? For the time being he was just his god’s sock, for him to do as he pleased with. To be constantly worn by, sweated in, and stomped on by him.

Oliver himself was certainly enjoying the socks. They were comfortable, absorbent, and made him feel powerful. How wouldn’t constantly stepping on a straight girl and bi guy not make one feel like a god? That was what he was to them, a god. A god whose feet they served. 

The image used doesn't belong to me and I will remove it at the behest of the copyright owner. I claim no ownership of the image.