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Hello! Thank you for reading this if you do! Please leave comments or critiques, I'm still new and it helps!
Anyways, this one is about a random micro who becomes a random norm's insole for a while...
It's 1835 words, so a relatively short read!
Exhaustion crept over his body as Nico pushed himself past his limit, running like his life depended on it. Sharp pains ached in his sides as the micro’s breath grew weary and shaky, his body now screaming for oxygen in the midst of his continued sprint. Tears blurred his vision, streaming down and around his face as displaced air blew past him. Deep down, he knew his efforts were in vain. He knew that he would never be able to escape the alley he stumbled into.
A shadow loomed over his form, indicating his downfall. As his environment darkened, Nico looked up at the giant digits befalling upon him. Despite the fatigue pulsing through his small body, he forced one last burst of effort in order to jump away from the hand collapsing down on his position. Barely scraping past the enclosing fingers, the midair fox felt a surge of relief at having possibly escaped capture, only for it to be suddenly replaced by an icy rush of fear across his chest upon seeing another hand in front of him, waiting.
In an instant he was snatched up, squeezed in the grasp of the giant hand.
“Ah, found myself a little micro toy to play with!”
Unable to see due to the darkness of being between the giant’s fingers, Nico could hear the thunderous voice from above him, rattling his bones as he was simultaneously lurched up within the fist. When the fist opened, the small fox could see the large, round eyes of his captor. The unfathomably humongous anthro looked down upon him with a menacing grin, causing the already trapped micro to go paralyzed in sheer terror as the being filled his vision.
“Well, I did need a new insole for my shoe. Let’s see how long you last as nothing more than a cushion for my feet, ya little paw pet. Heheheh…”
The deep voice and the horrifying words reached Nico, sending his ears back against his head and his eyes wide. He gulped, defeated, enfeebled by his attempt to escape. There was no chance of freedom. His torturous fate was set. He was going to be an insole. He shivered in fear.
The colossal face seemed to grow farther away as the little micro was carried off, rapidly descending downward. The giant sat down, shaking Nico within his fist, before using his other hand to tear off his shoe with the sickening sound of sweat squelching as the socked paw ripped away from its natural habitat. The micro’s new habitat. He wrinkled his nose in disgust.
The air instantly became tainted with the odor of the giant’s unwashed feet and drastically overused sneakers, a humid steam palpable as it replaced all breathable oxygen in the vicinity. The sock, dripping with sweat, had visibly potent musk wafting off of it, while the underside was stained and discolored with months of use. The plump toes wiggled within their confines, emanating a stench of their own, with dirt stains marking their spots on the sock.
Without warning, the small fox was shoved into the shoe onto the insole, where he was immediately coated with a sticky sweat that seemed to limit his movements. The heat in the sauna-like environment was scorching, causing the micro himself to sweat in seconds. The musk was exponentially worse within the giant’s paw container, which acted like an oven that absorbed every odor that emitted from his disgusting feet, building up to intolerable levels. Nico choked on the air as it invaded his lungs, eyes watering from the seering stench.
Suddenly, darkness filled his blurry vision as the paw began to enter the shoe. Unable to move, the micro screamed in fear as the paw landed on top of him, resting against his body. This was a vital mistake as his open mouth was instantly filled with a mixture of musk and sweat, forcing him to swallow the disgusting mess. The foot squirmed and wiggled to get comfortable, each movement reverberating onto the micro and disgustingly rubbing him into the sweaty socked sole. The toes scrunched above him, pressing restlessly against his face and ruffling his hair as they coated him with their smell.
Due to the tight and constricted nature of the shoe, the micro was pressed as deep as physically possible into the foot while the crushed insole against his back offered little leeway. He was squished to the point where he was completely invisible under foot. Then, the giant stood up, the pressure increasing tenfold, pinning and compressing the micro flat. His mind screamed in pain as the sole seemed to be trying to macerate him from above, crushing his muscles and bones to powerlessness.
Every step mashed him deeper and deeper into the paw, and each time the foot descended and pushed off the ground, he was ground up more and more. After only a minute, he was drenched in sweat, while his body seemed to bake in the humidity. He was never exempt from the stench either, as it assaulted his nose endlessly and attacked his consciousness with every rancid breath. But he didn’t get the luxury of passing out while the pressure smashed down onto his frail little body.
After an hour, or what seemed like several days to the micro insole, the pounding steps stopped, giving his exhausted body a chance to rest and his mind a chance to collapse into unconsciousness.
He woke up weary and confused until the all-encompassing smell shot through his airways and reminded him of his torture. The poor micro gagged and coughed but the recycled foot-air only got worse. His nose and lungs burned, having to re-experience the putrid odor all over again. He felt muggy and weak, his thoughts numbed and slow by the paw-musk, while his whole body felt beaten and bruised. His only purpose in life was as an insole for a superior giant’s foot...
After a day, the micro felt wrecked and more miserable than he ever had been in his life. He was painfully crushed flat, and while his bones were still intact, they were strained and bent by the sheer enormity of the pressure of the paw. His fur was matted and adhered directly to the sock, entangled in the dirty fabric, pressed as deep as his body was wide into the sole. The constant sweat began to prune his skin and ruin the shine of his once silky fur. He felt like a waste of life, trembling helplessly against the never-washed paw like the object he was.
Worst still was the cultivating heat, which built up without a means of escape and tormented the micro with discomfort (although the pressure of the paw slamming down onto him, which always threatened to break him in half, was uncomfortable enough as it was). The heat only exasperated the musk that thickened the air to make it nearly impossible to breathe. Every breath was torture due to the smell and the horrendous taste of the air, which burned every inch of his body.
His thoughts were always incomplete at this point, only fragments of sentences forming in his head, constantly interrupted by being squished to submission or another choking, coughing fit. He could only long for help, stuck in the greasy, horrid environment...
After a week, the superior paw finally left the shoe, painfully peeling off his skin and ripping his fur as it left to air out to its owner’s content. He felt empty and hollow without it, despite his feelings of disgust and hatred to the gross foot, as if his body was beginning to adapt. His body was ailing, unable to move even if not adhered to the sweaty bottom of the shoe, where he was forced to live. He could never get used to the smell; it seemed to continue building and increasing in potency as if in an attempt to kill him through sheer rankness.
Every day was the same, with periods of intense stomping and grinding as well as periods of simply boiling within the cramped and sweat-soaked atmosphere. At this point, his mind, failing due to constant inhalation of toxic musk, could barely distinguish words capable of describing his own suffering. All he knew was that he was being tortured by something as simple and lowly as a footpaw, which he realized was vastly superior to himself...
After a month, periods of blacking out was common for the ruined and tortured soul. He couldn’t tell how long it had been. His feeble body was so debilitated that he could no longer even twitch to react to the revolting stench or the nasty paw that was now always bare so he could experience the brunt of the odor. The sweat and the musk were ingrained into his mind and body and fur as he was stuck deep into the plush sole at all times. That foot was all he knew, barely capable of independent thoughts
At this point, several of his weak bones had been ground down to a broken and malleable state, just for the slight increase in comfort for the paw. The paw that owned his pathetic body. The paw that he served with his life, despite the torment he endured trapped under it. His breathing was shallow and slow, desperate for more musk that he hated just to remain alive. But the thick odor proved difficult to inhale and exhale as it just wafted into his throat and lungs to choke him alive.
After three months, he acted on instinct alone, his independent brain shut down from prolonged exposure to the awful and revolting musk. His breathing was controlled by the paw, whenever it squished down onto him or wriggled restlessly he was at its mercy. His skin was diseased-looking, pale and wrinkled, while his fur was dirt-coated and unhealthy.
The giant had long since forgotten about his insole. He used to check on its torture to his amusement but now it was only there to serve his paw, which unknowingly tormented it with every prod and stomp. The insole was just that, an insole, as it stuck to his paw, conforming to his footprint to the ever-so-slight comfort of its owner, who never gave the sensation a second thought.
Suddenly, the insole seemed to wake up, numb to all the pain and heat and musk that still assaulted his senses. He still couldn’t think, but he didn’t need to in order to serve the foot. That greasy, unkempt, unwashed paw was all he knew. It was his life, even if that life was miserable. It was his only and frankly pathetic purpose. After several near misses, almost drowning or being completely obliterated by the crushing pressure of the sole, he knew he was lucky to be alive despite his body being mangled underneath. Unknown to him, he had survived a year underpaw. These would be his last thoughts before succumbing to the paw entirely and the giant would never know the difference.
Anyways, this one is about a random micro who becomes a random norm's insole for a while...
It's 1835 words, so a relatively short read!
Exhaustion crept over his body as Nico pushed himself past his limit, running like his life depended on it. Sharp pains ached in his sides as the micro’s breath grew weary and shaky, his body now screaming for oxygen in the midst of his continued sprint. Tears blurred his vision, streaming down and around his face as displaced air blew past him. Deep down, he knew his efforts were in vain. He knew that he would never be able to escape the alley he stumbled into.
A shadow loomed over his form, indicating his downfall. As his environment darkened, Nico looked up at the giant digits befalling upon him. Despite the fatigue pulsing through his small body, he forced one last burst of effort in order to jump away from the hand collapsing down on his position. Barely scraping past the enclosing fingers, the midair fox felt a surge of relief at having possibly escaped capture, only for it to be suddenly replaced by an icy rush of fear across his chest upon seeing another hand in front of him, waiting.
In an instant he was snatched up, squeezed in the grasp of the giant hand.
“Ah, found myself a little micro toy to play with!”
Unable to see due to the darkness of being between the giant’s fingers, Nico could hear the thunderous voice from above him, rattling his bones as he was simultaneously lurched up within the fist. When the fist opened, the small fox could see the large, round eyes of his captor. The unfathomably humongous anthro looked down upon him with a menacing grin, causing the already trapped micro to go paralyzed in sheer terror as the being filled his vision.
“Well, I did need a new insole for my shoe. Let’s see how long you last as nothing more than a cushion for my feet, ya little paw pet. Heheheh…”
The deep voice and the horrifying words reached Nico, sending his ears back against his head and his eyes wide. He gulped, defeated, enfeebled by his attempt to escape. There was no chance of freedom. His torturous fate was set. He was going to be an insole. He shivered in fear.
The colossal face seemed to grow farther away as the little micro was carried off, rapidly descending downward. The giant sat down, shaking Nico within his fist, before using his other hand to tear off his shoe with the sickening sound of sweat squelching as the socked paw ripped away from its natural habitat. The micro’s new habitat. He wrinkled his nose in disgust.
The air instantly became tainted with the odor of the giant’s unwashed feet and drastically overused sneakers, a humid steam palpable as it replaced all breathable oxygen in the vicinity. The sock, dripping with sweat, had visibly potent musk wafting off of it, while the underside was stained and discolored with months of use. The plump toes wiggled within their confines, emanating a stench of their own, with dirt stains marking their spots on the sock.
Without warning, the small fox was shoved into the shoe onto the insole, where he was immediately coated with a sticky sweat that seemed to limit his movements. The heat in the sauna-like environment was scorching, causing the micro himself to sweat in seconds. The musk was exponentially worse within the giant’s paw container, which acted like an oven that absorbed every odor that emitted from his disgusting feet, building up to intolerable levels. Nico choked on the air as it invaded his lungs, eyes watering from the seering stench.
Suddenly, darkness filled his blurry vision as the paw began to enter the shoe. Unable to move, the micro screamed in fear as the paw landed on top of him, resting against his body. This was a vital mistake as his open mouth was instantly filled with a mixture of musk and sweat, forcing him to swallow the disgusting mess. The foot squirmed and wiggled to get comfortable, each movement reverberating onto the micro and disgustingly rubbing him into the sweaty socked sole. The toes scrunched above him, pressing restlessly against his face and ruffling his hair as they coated him with their smell.
Due to the tight and constricted nature of the shoe, the micro was pressed as deep as physically possible into the foot while the crushed insole against his back offered little leeway. He was squished to the point where he was completely invisible under foot. Then, the giant stood up, the pressure increasing tenfold, pinning and compressing the micro flat. His mind screamed in pain as the sole seemed to be trying to macerate him from above, crushing his muscles and bones to powerlessness.
Every step mashed him deeper and deeper into the paw, and each time the foot descended and pushed off the ground, he was ground up more and more. After only a minute, he was drenched in sweat, while his body seemed to bake in the humidity. He was never exempt from the stench either, as it assaulted his nose endlessly and attacked his consciousness with every rancid breath. But he didn’t get the luxury of passing out while the pressure smashed down onto his frail little body.
After an hour, or what seemed like several days to the micro insole, the pounding steps stopped, giving his exhausted body a chance to rest and his mind a chance to collapse into unconsciousness.
He woke up weary and confused until the all-encompassing smell shot through his airways and reminded him of his torture. The poor micro gagged and coughed but the recycled foot-air only got worse. His nose and lungs burned, having to re-experience the putrid odor all over again. He felt muggy and weak, his thoughts numbed and slow by the paw-musk, while his whole body felt beaten and bruised. His only purpose in life was as an insole for a superior giant’s foot...
After a day, the micro felt wrecked and more miserable than he ever had been in his life. He was painfully crushed flat, and while his bones were still intact, they were strained and bent by the sheer enormity of the pressure of the paw. His fur was matted and adhered directly to the sock, entangled in the dirty fabric, pressed as deep as his body was wide into the sole. The constant sweat began to prune his skin and ruin the shine of his once silky fur. He felt like a waste of life, trembling helplessly against the never-washed paw like the object he was.
Worst still was the cultivating heat, which built up without a means of escape and tormented the micro with discomfort (although the pressure of the paw slamming down onto him, which always threatened to break him in half, was uncomfortable enough as it was). The heat only exasperated the musk that thickened the air to make it nearly impossible to breathe. Every breath was torture due to the smell and the horrendous taste of the air, which burned every inch of his body.
His thoughts were always incomplete at this point, only fragments of sentences forming in his head, constantly interrupted by being squished to submission or another choking, coughing fit. He could only long for help, stuck in the greasy, horrid environment...
After a week, the superior paw finally left the shoe, painfully peeling off his skin and ripping his fur as it left to air out to its owner’s content. He felt empty and hollow without it, despite his feelings of disgust and hatred to the gross foot, as if his body was beginning to adapt. His body was ailing, unable to move even if not adhered to the sweaty bottom of the shoe, where he was forced to live. He could never get used to the smell; it seemed to continue building and increasing in potency as if in an attempt to kill him through sheer rankness.
Every day was the same, with periods of intense stomping and grinding as well as periods of simply boiling within the cramped and sweat-soaked atmosphere. At this point, his mind, failing due to constant inhalation of toxic musk, could barely distinguish words capable of describing his own suffering. All he knew was that he was being tortured by something as simple and lowly as a footpaw, which he realized was vastly superior to himself...
After a month, periods of blacking out was common for the ruined and tortured soul. He couldn’t tell how long it had been. His feeble body was so debilitated that he could no longer even twitch to react to the revolting stench or the nasty paw that was now always bare so he could experience the brunt of the odor. The sweat and the musk were ingrained into his mind and body and fur as he was stuck deep into the plush sole at all times. That foot was all he knew, barely capable of independent thoughts
At this point, several of his weak bones had been ground down to a broken and malleable state, just for the slight increase in comfort for the paw. The paw that owned his pathetic body. The paw that he served with his life, despite the torment he endured trapped under it. His breathing was shallow and slow, desperate for more musk that he hated just to remain alive. But the thick odor proved difficult to inhale and exhale as it just wafted into his throat and lungs to choke him alive.
After three months, he acted on instinct alone, his independent brain shut down from prolonged exposure to the awful and revolting musk. His breathing was controlled by the paw, whenever it squished down onto him or wriggled restlessly he was at its mercy. His skin was diseased-looking, pale and wrinkled, while his fur was dirt-coated and unhealthy.
The giant had long since forgotten about his insole. He used to check on its torture to his amusement but now it was only there to serve his paw, which unknowingly tormented it with every prod and stomp. The insole was just that, an insole, as it stuck to his paw, conforming to his footprint to the ever-so-slight comfort of its owner, who never gave the sensation a second thought.
Suddenly, the insole seemed to wake up, numb to all the pain and heat and musk that still assaulted his senses. He still couldn’t think, but he didn’t need to in order to serve the foot. That greasy, unkempt, unwashed paw was all he knew. It was his life, even if that life was miserable. It was his only and frankly pathetic purpose. After several near misses, almost drowning or being completely obliterated by the crushing pressure of the sole, he knew he was lucky to be alive despite his body being mangled underneath. Unknown to him, he had survived a year underpaw. These would be his last thoughts before succumbing to the paw entirely and the giant would never know the difference.
Category Story / Macro / Micro
Species Unspecified / Any
Gender Any
Size 120 x 120px
that micro should probably try and end himself anyway he can, poor dude
This was hot! I love how you describe how his brain broke down. You should do one with a foot slave that becomes addicted to his masters foot sweat and stuff. Like actually addicted psychologically.
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