Matsmi13 @matsmi13 - Tumblr Blog

Picture source: @androphilestory

Kerry was set to serve a thirty-five year sentence for the crime he had committed. That would be a long time in prison starting at the age of twenty-six. He would be a sixty-one year old man by the time he would be released. When he was told about the Criminal Rehabilitation into Society program or the CRS program that would shorten his sentence down to just five years, he was quick to volunteer for the program. He didn't know the specifics, but it sounded better than serving thirty-five years in prison.

Two weeks later, Officer Henry took a picture in front of the mirror in the bathroom at the police station. He had received a new pair of boots for work. The new pair of boots were a criminal who volunteered for the CRS program. He was to be his boots for the next five years. After completion of the five years, there would be a hearing board to determine if the boots were ready to be released into society as a valued citizen. He would be the one to testify if the boots or criminal was no longer a threat to society.

"I love the CRS program. It gave me the best pair of work boots ever. I might have to suggest that this guy needs more time on my feet." Officer Henry said to himself as he snapped a selfie picture in the mirror reflection. After five years, he might not want to give them up so easily. Wearing them for the past two weeks had his feet feeling so comfortable. He is on his feet so much, no pair of work boots felt this good. His feet used to hurt every night by the time he got home. The new boots had changed that. The insoles felt so comforting with each step. As for the criminal, he wasn't given a name or what his crime was. He was only told that the criminal was his boots for five years. At the end of that, he would be the determining factor if he could be reintegrated back into normal society. If not, he would have to spend another five years as his boots. Officer Henry was really considering the latter when it came time to the hearing board.

Kerry was really regretting his decision to go for the CRS program. He learned that his owner wearing him was Officer Henry. Sadly, the guy didn't know his name or crimes. He was just a pair of boots to him to wear. He also learned that his new existence was for the next five years, upon which Officer Henry had the soul witness account on which he should be back in society again or remain a pair of boots for another five years.

Kerry found that Officer Henry's feet reeked horribly by the end of the day. It only took just three days before the strong foot odor had completely saturated all of the insides of both boots. There was no escape from the smell. Some days, Officer Henry would wear the same pair of socks he wore the previous day or days. That foot odor pressing down on his face while his owner walked on him at work over and over without end. He would sometimes hear his owner joke about him as though he was just an inanimate object and not a person at all. It felt degrading. All he could hope is that the officer show some mercy in five years and release him. He couldn't take another five years of being his boots. Just these two weeks had him missing his prison cell.

anon-sect

Picture source: mine

Requested story by my Bestie

Felix had been enjoying a wonderful time with his friend Tom who he met about six months ago or more. It was great, but soon, Tom had gotten a new job that took up a lot of his free time. He didn't have much time for hanging out as usual. Felix had begun to miss the close friendship. He was happy for his friend, but he missed spending quality time with him. He wanted to find a way to spend time with him a lot more than he currently had.

One day, Felix was over at Tom's house, watching TV with him. He felt it was time for him to propose the idea that probably would sound crazy.

"You know how you have been so busy with your new job recently, that we haven't had as much time for us to hang out like we used to?" Felix asked.

"Oh yeah, I know. I miss hanging out as well." Tom paused. "But my new job is more demanding than my old one. Yet, we still hang out when I have the time though." Tom added as he wiggled his toes.

Felix loved seeing his friend wiggling his toes. It was always tempting. He couldn't look away most of the time. When they hung out at each other's place, Tom would let him massage and worship his feet. He loved having a willing friend that would allow him.

"I see you staring as always." Tom smirked a little. "You know what to do." He added as he saw that Felix didn't need a second invitation. Felix got down on the floor at his feet and started to massage them. He loved having his feet being worshipped by him. It wasn't long before Felix had his nose up in his toes, sniffing them. After a good twenty minutes of licking and sniffing his feet, he saw that Felix had more to say.

"Well, we used to hang out more, but I know your new job is more demanding." Felix paused. "And I am happy for you, but I miss hanging out with you and worshipping your feet so much." He added, while massaging his feet with such passion.

"I know, but right now what can we do about it. It's a really good job, and I love working there." Tom spoke, looking down at his friend who was giving such a good foot massage.

"I think I have an idea on that." Felix started as he stopped massaging. "If I was to be your work socks, then I could spend all day with you, and only you would know." He suggested, waiting on Tom to respond. He was so hoping his friend would totally be on board with the idea.

Tom was slightly shocked at the idea, but he saw that Felix was serious. "Continue massaging my feet and let me ponder on the notion." He finally said after almost two minutes of silence. He saw Felix go back to massaging his feet, awaiting his answer. The idea of literally wearing Felix on his feet sounded crazy, but he could tell he wanted it badly. He even saw him go back to licking his feet as though that might persuade him to agree to it.

"You do know being on my feet might be Intel?" Tom paused. "You would have to absorb my foot sweat, be trapped in my shoes all day, walk on all day and reek of strong foot odor and sweat. All the while I go about my day as normal, not thinking much about my socks." He paused again. "Is that what you really want? To be treated like a pair of common socks while I work?" He asked, wanting to be sure this was Felix's wish.

"Oh, yes, very much so." Felix didn't hesitate on his response. It was the perfect way to spend time with his bestie since he is so busy at work.

Tom thought about it again. He saw there would be no persuading of this course of action. "If that is what you want, I will go with it." He paused, "but I have to warn you. I might not change you back if you are a really comfortable pair of work socks. You would belong to my feet for a very long time. Last chance to back out." He waited for a reply.

"So when are we doing it? The sooner the better." Felix spoke up, determined to be Tom's work socks. He handed Tom his phone showing him the TF Pro Max app. He had the sock setting already applied. "All you have to do is point the camera at me and hit the flash option." He said, all ready for this to happen.

Tom took the phone and pointed the camera at him. He hit the flash option without hesitation. Felix was a pair of brown socks with interesting designs on it on the floor. He lifted them up and found them to be perfect. "Tomorrow morning, you are going to work with me. Like I said earlier, if my feet feel really good, this will be your life for a very long time." He took the sock and put them on his dresser for in the morning. He went back to watch tv.

The next morning, as Tom was finishing getting ready for work, he grabbed his new work socks. He put them on his feet and found them super comfortable. He wiggled his toes in them. Knowing that his socks were Felix, it felt kind of dominating, having him on his feet. A guy was literally wrapped around and trapped on his feet, completely at his mercy.

"Remember, you asked for this. So don't complain for what happens next." Tom said as he grabbed his boots for work.

Felix was in such ecstasy on his friend's feet. It was everything he had ever imagined it would be. "Mmmmm, love being on your feet...mmmm...." He mentally spoke. He felt every part of his feet. He tasted every part of his feet. He could smell every part of his feet. His feet had a fresh smell for now, but he knew they would get sweaty soon. He actually was looking forward to it. He loved worshipping his sweaty feet and odor. It was exciting to him to go to work with Tom like this. The best part was that no one at Tom's office would not even know about his existence on his feet. He would be completely at Tom's mercy all day long. He started to think if his friend might enjoy this experience as much as he was.

Tom smelled his boots briefly before putting them on his feet. He had this pair of boots for the past six months. They smelled of his ownership of them. After securing his boots on his feet, he wiggled his toes in his new socks. He wondered if Felix was enjoying his new existence on his feet. One fact was that Felix did make an excellent pair of socks. His feet felt good wearing them. His new socks made his boots even more comfortable than before. He then realized he needed to focus since he was getting ready for work. He didn't have time to think about how his socks felt while being at work.

Felix enjoyed his new form even more than before. He had often fantasized about sniffing his friend's shoes. He was now inside them, and it was greater than he ever imagined. The smell was so intoxicating that he didn't want to leave it. The fact that he was wrapped around the feet he had often worshipped made it even better.

For the next eight hours or so, Felix found himself supporting every step Tom took. He was completely ignored while his friend worked in the office. There was some toe wiggling throughout the day, but even that was a wonderful experience. It showed how much he was at the mercy of his friend's feet. Even as Tom's feet got a little sweaty in his boots, he absorbed and loved the taste of his foot sweat. He found his sock body beginning to smell like his owner's feet. Even though he was being ignored like a common pair of socks, he was still getting to hangout with his friend regardless. That was really the point of this whole thing, honestly.

Tom got home at the end of his day. His feet hadn't felt this good in a long while. His new socks really did the trick. He took off his boots and sat in his favorite chair to watch the evening news. He rested his socked feet on the footrest in front of him. The thought of changing Felix back to normal was slowly escaping his mind. 'Who gets rid of a great pair of socks,' he questioned himself mentally.

"I hope you don't mind, but I want to keep you like this a little longer." Tom paused with a smirk on his face. "Don't know how long just yet. But remember, you volunteered for this." He added as he continued to watch TV, not thinking much about his socks.

Felix didn't mind one bit. Tom could keep him as his socks for as long as he wanted. Getting to worship his friend's feet was great, but this was way better. Being wrapped around his friend's feet was far greater than normal foot worship. He could stay his socks forever and not miss his humanity.

purplemouse22

Item #: SCP-████ Object Class: Keter

Special Containment Procedures

All known digital instances of SCP-████ are subject to continuous identification and removal from public and private networks. Foundation crawler systems monitor major distribution platforms, including YouTube, Netflix, and TikTok, for encoding signatures consistent with SCP-████.

Detected files are replaced with inert decoy media within 90 seconds of identification.

Recovered instances are stored on air-gapped archival systems. Access requires O5-level authorization. Playback is restricted to controlled testing environments using analog projection systems. No network-capable device is permitted within testing chambers.

Exposure zones are sealed for a minimum of 24 hours following activation events. Personnel recovery operations are limited to retrieval of resulting SCP-████-1 instances. No attempt is made to interrupt active transformations.

Description

SCP-████ is a digital video file with a consistent runtime of 6 minutes and 14 seconds. The content presents as a professionally produced short film depicting an empty Spider-Man suit in various environments. No human actors appear.

The anomaly persists across all media formats, including streaming, downloaded files, screen recordings, and partial re-encodings. Resolution, compression, or playback medium does not alter anomalous behavior.

Any individual who observes SCP-████ for longer than approximately 2 minutes and 30 seconds undergoes an irreversible transformation event.

The effect applies to:

Direct observation of a display

Reflections of the display

Secondary recordings

Projected images

Audio is not required.

Observed Film Content

The video consists of continuous, slow camera movements:

An empty suit standing upright in a dim interior

The suit appearing in different positions between cuts

Close-up shots of fabric exhibiting subtle expansion and contraction

Eye lenses reflecting environments not present in the scene

At timestamp 02:31, the camera aligns with the viewer’s perspective. Subjects report awareness of being observed by the suit.

At 03:48, the suit appears closer in each successive frame.

At 05:02, the suit fills the frame. Lens surfaces darken. Peripheral distortion appears.

Transformation onset follows within seconds.

Transformation Process

Stage I — Visual Lock (0–3 seconds)

Subject loses ability to redirect gaze

Peripheral vision collapses

Screen depth appears to extend into physical space

Reported:

“It is not on the screen anymore.”

Stage II — Spatial Overwrite (3–8 seconds)

Subject boundaries lose definition

Physical form flattens against a non-visible plane

Surrounding environment remains undisturbed

No measurable energy or mass transfer is detected.

Reported:

“There is no inside of me.”

Stage III — Conversion (8–15 seconds)

Subject collapses into a thin, continuous material

A Spider-Man suit (designated SCP-████-1) manifests at subject location

All clothing and personal effects disappear without trace

Multiple viewers result in simultaneous manifestations.

SCP-████-1 Properties

Each instance of SCP-████-1 is a unique Spider-Man suit composed of unknown material.

Material Behavior

Strength exceeds high-performance synthetic fibers

No observable weave or internal structure

Damage resistance to cutting, heat, and compression

Stress applied at any point distributes across the entire surface.

Cognitive State

Subjects remain conscious.

Awareness exists across the entire surface

No central point of perception

No ability to enter unconscious states

Subjects report continuous sensory input with no interruption.

Perception

Visual input through mask lenses

Full-surface tactile awareness

No filtering of external stimuli

Folding or compression produces overlapping perception.

Dark storage conditions increase internal replay of SCP-████.

Motor Function

No voluntary movement.

Unobserved instances exhibit discontinuous repositioning. Movement aligns partially with subject intent but is not controlled by it.

Media Echo Effect

All instances retain connection to SCP-████.

Subjects re-experience segments of the video

Events repeat without sequence

Multiple instances report synchronized perception

Reported:

“It is still happening.”

Propagation Characteristics

SCP-████ reappears after deletion

Embeds within unrelated media

Alters thumbnails to resemble benign content

Partial clips remain inactive. Repeated exposure accumulates toward activation threshold.

Addendum ████-A: Discovery

SCP-████ was identified following multiple disappearances linked to a media file distributed through public platforms. Initial investigation recovered ██ instances of SCP-████-1 arranged in residential environments.

No signs of struggle or forced entry were present.

Addendum ████-B: Incident Log

A public upload remained active on YouTube for 11 minutes.

Estimated exposure exceeded 28,000 viewers.

Foundation recovery confirmed 312 SCP-████-1 instances. Additional cases remain unverified.

Addendum ████-C: Recovered Signal

Composite signal from multiple co-located instances:

“We are still watching.” “It does not end.” “It gets closer every time.”

Addendum ████-D: Interaction Testing

Test 01 — Passive Instance Present

One SCP-████-1 in chamber

One subject exposed

Result:

New instance forms

Existing instance unchanged

Test 02 — Instance Worn During Exposure

Subject wearing SCP-████-1

Result:

New instance manifests

Original instance persists

Temporary spatial overlap observed

Signals indicate two separate identities.

Test 03 — Extended Wear Prior to Exposure

Subject wearing instance for prolonged period

Result:

Single instance forms

Contains two cognitive entities

Test 04 — Multiple Instances Worn

Result:

Identities distribute across resulting instances

No consistent allocation pattern observed

Addendum ████-E: Clothing Displacement

All non-anomalous materials worn by subjects disappear during transformation.

Tracking devices embedded in clothing produce no recoverable signal.

SCP-████-1 instances are not removed during exposure. Outcomes depend on degree of integration between wearer and instance.

Summary

SCP-████ is a self-propagating visual anomaly transmitted through digital media.

Exposure results in conversion of observers into SCP-████-1 instances. Subjects remain conscious with no capacity for rest, movement, or disengagement from perception.

The anomaly maintains persistent influence through media-linked perception and repeated experiential loops.

Containment relies on suppression of distribution and controlled isolation of resulting instances.

purplemouse22

Four-Way Stretch

Daniel woke in the chair with his hands still his own, and that was the cruelty of it, though he didn't know yet that it was cruelty.

He flexed them. Ten fingers, the chair's vinyl cool under his forearms, a strap across his chest he could have shrugged against if he'd wanted to. He could feel his heartbeat in his neck. He could feel the specific ache of a tooth he'd been meaning to get looked at. He was, in every way he had ever been, himself, and so when the singlet came into focus on the table across the room steel gray going to charcoal down the legs, a sage chevron under the collar, the shoulder straps splayed flat like the arms of a chalk outline, a name set across the chest in white block letters that read CLEVELAND STATE he read it the way you read any lettering in a room you've woken up in. A name. Not his. He didn't think that part yet. He read it and looked away, the way you look away from a thing that is not you.

A door opened. Feet, then a lab coat, then a man with reading glasses pushed up into gray hair and a clipboard he clearly did not need.

"You're awake," the man said. "Good. I prefer them awake." He sat on a stool, dentist-close, and there was something settling-in about the way he did it, a man arriving at the part of the day he liked. Dr. Voss, said the badge. "The ones I put under miss the explanation, and I like to explain. So. Are you listening?"

"Where am I," Daniel said, and his voice was his voice, and the ordinariness of it was the most frightening thing that had happened so far.

"Somewhere we brought you." Voss clicked the pen. "You didn't agree to this. Nobody does. we stopped asking years ago. No one comes looking for the people we take, and no one can make us give them back, so there was no reason to keep asking." He said it the way you'd give a stranger directions. "Get up, if you want. People always want to first."

So Daniel got up. His legs were his legs. He took two steps toward the door and on the third his left foot wasn't there.

Not numb. Not asleep. Not a thing that had ever been. The floor came up and he caught himself on the table and the table was real and his hands were real and his foot was the memory of a foot, and he stood on the one leg that remained and made a sound that had no words in it.

Voss watched him make the sound and waited for it to finish on its own.

"That's the transfer," he said, when it was done. "It started before you woke up. It doesn't happen all at once. You'll lose yourself a piece at a time, over a few minutes, and you're awake for it because I want you awake for it. Sit down. You'll fall less."

"Put it back." The words came out shaped like a man's words. "Whatever you did, put it —" "No. I can't undo it, and I wouldn't if I could, so it doesn't much matter which is true." Voss didn't raise his voice. "It's already too far along to reverse. We never wake anyone up until it is — that's the whole reason we wake you up late, so you can't fight it. Nothing you do in this room changes anything. I want you to understand that part clearly, because it's the part everyone wastes time on."

Daniel's hand was flat on the table beside the singlet, and he could feel the laminate under his palm and, at the same time, from the wrong direction, the laminate under the singlet. Two reports of one cold surface. He did not snatch the hand back. He understood, now, that there was nowhere to snatch it to.

"You're going to hope it stops hurting," Voss said. "Or that it goes quiet that you fade as you spread out, until there's not enough of you left to mind. People always hope that. It's wrong. You don't get dimmer. The thing I'm putting you into doesn't think it's just a place to keep you. You're what thinks. We don't pour a man into cloth and hope a little of him sticks. We move all of you across, whole and awake, and the awareness is the only thing we actually want. The fabric's just where we set it down." He smiled, and it was a real one. "You'll be every bit as awake in there as you are in this chair. More, probably. There won't be anything else to do."

The sentence about police, about his sister, was forming somewhere when his jaw stopped being a thing he had, and the words arrived anyway in Voss's head, meaning without sound.

"There. I can hear you now." Voss tapped his temple. "There's a receiver in here. It takes what you mean and turns it into something I can hear. I'm the only one fitted for it, and the second I walk out, nobody near you ever will be again. So say what you want to say now. This is the last conversation you're going to have."

Daniel meant to answer. He never got to, because that was when the rest of him began to go, and it did not go like the foot.

The foot had been a clean subtraction there, then gone. This was slower, and worse, because he was awake for every inch of it. It started in the hand against the table, the hand already sending two reports: the one from his palm thinned and went far-off, the way a voice thins on a bad line, while the one from the singlet came up under it and got louder, until his hand was mostly strap and only a little hand, and then it was strap, and the hand was somewhere he used to send from and couldn't find.

It climbed his arm, and as it climbed he felt the inside of him stop being a thing that had an inside. He had a bone in there, and the warm wrapped weight of muscle around it, and he had never once thought about any of it and now he felt all of it lifted out and not replaced, felt his arm become the long even nothing of a sleeve, a tube of stretch with two faces and a seam and no depth between them. That was the part he had no word for. He had carried a dark warm core around inside himself his whole life without noticing he was carrying it, and now it was being taken out of him from the wrists inward, and he felt himself thinning into a surface a skin around nothing, and then not even around nothing, just the skin, two faces and the seam that held them shut.

His weight went last, and that was the strangest of all. He had been a heavy thing, an architecture that held itself up without being asked, and the holding-up simply stopped not a fall, a letting-go his mass draining out of him until the table barely registered that anything lay on it, until he weighed what a held breath weighs, until he was light enough to be lifted in one hand and forgotten in a bag. And then what was left of him settled into the only shape it could still make. Flat. Splayed. The straps fallen open at the shoulders exactly like the arms of the chalk outline he'd looked at when he woke the outline that had been lying there the whole time, he understood now, waiting to be filled. The gray came up through him and went to charcoal down the legs. The chevron set itself under the place a collarbone had been. The white letters pressed into the chest that was now his only chest, a word he could read from the inside, and only now did he think the part he hadn't let himself think before, lying there reading it backward through himself: A name. Still not his. The only one anyone would ever read off him.

He reached out of the oldest reflex he had for the panic, expecting to find it running low, the way fear runs low in a body that can't sustain it. It was all there. Every bit. And there was no body left to wear it out, so it would simply go on being exactly this full for as long as he did, which was the last thing Voss had told him and the thing he was now going to live.

Voss picked up the clipboard he didn't need and went to the door. "That's what was done to you," he said, his hand on it. "I came down to make sure you understood that, because it's the one part I can't do for you. Now you do. And you'll keep understanding it, every day, for as long as you last."

He was gone. The fluorescent panel buzzed. And then there was only the table, and the having of a body that was this.

The cold came up through the one face of him that lay against the steel, and against the face that lay to the air there was nothing not cool, not warm, an absence where a back should have answered and he understood that he had a front and a back now and only the front was being touched, and that he could not turn over, would not turn over, until a hand he could not feel coming turned him. He felt the light: a faint warmth lay over the whole flat length of him from the panel above, the only warmth in the world now, and he knew the next warmth would be a body, and he wanted the cold instead, wanted the table forever, and was not going to be asked. Air moved through the weave of his chest, slow and cold, a breathing he did not do and could not stop. And under all of it he felt the seams every seam, from the inside, the long ones down his sides and the short hard ones at the shoulders, each one a place where he had been joined and could, with the right hands, be taken apart. He lay there knowing the hands were coming, and that they would not take him apart. They would only pull him on, and stretch him to the shape of a stranger, and hold him there in the heat and the dark, awake, for a season, and the season after that, and the one after that.

Daniel meant something then meant it as hard as he had ever meant anything, hurled the whole intact weight of himself at the shape of the word wait and felt it leave him and reach the place where the receiver had been and find the room empty, the line dead, the meaning arriving nowhere and coming back to him unspent, his now, only his, forever.

A few floors up, a boy was lacing his shoes for the first time.

The singlet lay still on the cold table, the name across its chest catching the light, and was afraid, and would not stop being afraid, and waited to be worn.

gayrotic

gul-dukat89

Quentin and his buddy Drake had always placed bets on the games when it came to their two teams facing off against each other. And usually it was money bets. They never went over $100 if their team lost to the other. This had been going on for several years.

This year, Drake had decided to take their friendly wagers on the games to a different level. He wanted to experience bragging rights when his team won. Drake's team was the Los Angeles Rams. They were the San Francisco 49ers biggest rival. He thought of a new addition to their bet.

"I propose we bet something different on this weekend's game. One that includes major bragging rights at the expense of the loser." Drake proposed, waiting to see if Quentin would be interested in a change.

"So if we aren't betting money, what are you proposing, we bet? What should the winner get if he wins?" Quentin asked with a curious look on his face.

"This time, the winner truly gets bragging rights." Drake paused as he pulled out his TF Shrink Ray device to show it to Quentin. "The winner gets to turn the loser into anything displaying the winning teams name for a week. The winner out of the two of us really gets to show bragging rights."

Quentin thought about it. It really intrigued him. He had been wanting a good pair of 48ers shorts to wear to the gym. This was one way to get a pair without paying for one. "I actually love your idea. I need a pair of 49ers shorts for the gym." He laughed.

"My Rams will win, and you will be a nice Rams shirt for me to wear all week." Drake countered back as both shook hands on the agreement.

On the weekend, Drake agreed to watch the game over at Quentin's place to show how confident he was of the Rams winning. He was so ready for a nice Rams jersey fresh and new.

As both watched intently, he rooted for their team every time they scored a touchdown or field goal kick. When the final score was earned in the last five seconds of the 4th quarter, it showed the 49ers beating the Rams by 2 points. It was a really close game down to the end.

Drake looked on disappointed at the ending score. It meant that he would have to display the 49ers name for a whole week. Yet a deal was a deal. He hands the TF Shrink Ray over to Quentin without any resistance. It was only for a week, he convinced himself over the decision.

Quentin smiles as he puts in the settings on the device and fires it at Drake. He watched as his buddy rapidly shrunk in size. His skin changed to red and turned like cloth. In a couple of minutes, there was a nice new pair of 49ers shorts on the couch beside him. He picked them up and examined them. They seemed perfect. He thought about talking to his shorts, but that sounded ridiculous. He wanted to treat Drake just like what he appeared to be, his property, and an article of clothing.

THREE DAYS LATER.....

Drake was only just three days into his seven days as 49ers shorts, and he was already regretting his willing decision. Quentin had worn him to the gym all three days. Each day was intense, sweat, and grind. Each day, he came back reeked of a strong musk odor. Quentin would wash and dry him to wear him the next day to do it all over again. At least one time, Quentin jerked off in him, not wearing any underwear. He felt so degraded, not to mention that he was stuck wearing the name of a team he didn't like much.

ONE MONTH LATER......

Quentin had just gotten back from the gym wearing his favorite shorts. After one week, he simply couldn't part with them as originally agreed. He wanted to keep his shorts. They were super comfortable and durable. He simply had to keep them. He hoped Drake would understand at least one day. He had deleted the reverse data from his device so that there was no way to change him back. He never spoke to his shorts ever. It would look strange if he did. Drake was nothing but his 49ers shorts now.

chavdrone

bizzstfdreams

Please consider supporting my Patreon where I post 2 captions and 1 short story a week. https://www.patreon.com/c/bizzhideaway

anon-sect

Picture source: Instagram @its.my.shoez

Todd had found himself in a big mess with some bad people. He had to flee his apartment because they knew exactly where he lived. It was bad that he left his car in a vacant parking lot, because they knew what he drove. He really needed to disappear or hide somewhere they wouldn't expect. He called a long-time friend, Zek, if he had any suggestions or a place to go somewhere safe. Zek had told him to come to his place, and he had a solution for him.

Todd made sure he went in disguise to Zek's house, just in case he was being followed. He was curious as to what his solution was. He honestly felt there would be no place to go. The bad people wanted him dead and would stop at nothing to make sure that happened. He really needed to go off the grid for a long while.

"I really need to vanish for a year or two," Todd told Zek. He saw that as the only way out and still be alive.

Zek went into the kitchen and came back with two drinks. He handed one to Todd. "Don't worry, soon you won't have to worry about trying to find a place to hide from them. Your problem will be solved after this one drink. And I promise they won't find you for at least three years." Zek spoke, taking sips from his own drink.

Todd was a little confused on how his drink would solve his problem entirely. He took a sip and it tasted good. He soon downed the entire drink. "Now how is this supposed to help me?" He asked, feeling slightly weird. Something just didn't feel right.

"I put a few drops of formula X in your drink. Now, all I have to do is think of what I want you to be and touch you. " Zek rubbed his hand along the top of Todd's head. "Now the magic of formula X does its thing." Zek added to a confused look on Todd's face.

Todd was about to ask a question when he felt himself getting sleepy. He had trouble staying conscious. Not only that, the room and everything seemed to start to enlarge around him. He was totally confused. Whatever Zek put in his drink had him so loopy he didn't have a clue what was happening. He soon lost all consciousness and flopped to the floor.

Zek watch on as Todd shrunk till he was small enough to morph into a blob. That blob split in two and reforms into a pair of Nike sneakers. Just like advertised, he thought. Formula X can turn anyone into an object of your choice. He also bought a bottle of Formula Z when he was ready to transform him back. Todd would be his personal sneakers for the next several years. He could walk around in plain sight of the bad people and they would not know Todd was there. He had long lasting sneakers while helping his friend out of a sticky situation. In his mind, it was a win for both of them.

Todd regained consciousness to find that he could not move his body. He was completely motionless. He then felt something lift him up. "I hope you are aware now. I turned you into my new pair of Nike sneakers. I will keep you like this for at least three years. You will be safe and I will have a good pair of shoes at the same time." Todd heard from Zek. He then realized that he wasn't lying. He saw a sock foot enter and adjust itself over his insole face. He needed to hide somewhere but not exist as his friend's footwear. He felt it twice as the other shoe was placed on foot. At least the socks weren't filthy, but still he was now an object on Zek's feet. Powerless under foot and forced to serve and comfort his feet totally against his will.

Zek found his new shoes just perfect. He just needed to break them in and make them fully conform to his feet.

EIGHT YEARS LATER........

Todd waited patiently to be worn. He at one time despised his owner's feet, every day crushing his face, sweating on his face and making his whole being smell like foul foot odor. Being trapped in his shoe prison was daily torture for a good four years. But afterward, he soon loved being worn. He loved being wrapped around his owner's feet. Zek was his beloved owner, and he loved serving as Zek's shoes.

Zek enjoy his used Nikes so much. It was only supposed to be a few years, but he loved the comfort Todd gave him. It would have been a shame to turn him back human again. After eight years, he still was holding on, even though he looked a bit used now, but at least he was still providing the same level of comfort as the first day he turned him into his footwear.

alexfeet70

anon-sect

Blake walked into the room, seeing his brother standing there in his underwear. He had looked all over the house for his friend Drake, who came to spend the night with him. He woke up not seeing his friend, but yet his things were still there.

"Trey, have you seen Drake? I can't find him anywhere." He asked his brother, who was only older than him by two years.

Trey shook his head no with a slight grin on his face. "Sorry, I haven't seen him this morning. The last time I saw him was when he was in your room." He responded almost too innocently.

Trey's underwear was saying something different. "Blake, help me, your brother turned me into his underwear. PLEASE, you got to help me. I don't want to be your brother's underwear."

"Are you sure? Because he left his things. It's unlike him to just leave and not take his things with him or at least tell me he was leaving." Blake asked again, not sure if his brother was telling the truth. He had friends over before that mysteriously disappeared only to find out his brother added them to his clothing collection.

"Honest, bro. I last saw him in your room before I went to bed." Trey replied back. He enjoyed hearing Blake cry for help. He did have such fun with him, but he didn't want the fun to end. So he decided to add Drake to his underwear collection. The bad thing for Drake was that the transformation can't be undone. Trey could not reverse the transformation, but that never bothered him anyway. If he ever transformed anyone, he meant to keep them. Drake was permanently stuck as his underwear.

Blake then noticed a brand new fresh pair of Calvin Kleins wrapped around cradling his ass and crotch. He got a sick feeling he was looking at Drake being worn on his brother like a common underwear. "Seriously Trey, tell me that isn't Drake you are wearing right now!? You know you can't undo transformations!!"

Trey was silent and gave a little evil grin. He knew that Drake had just heard that the transformation was permanent. He would forever be his underwear. He could hear Drake cursing at him and weeping at the same time. "If you want to borrow him, let me know, " He laughed a moment later, rubbing the crotch area, knowing full well that was where Drake's face was.

"When!?" Was all that Blake could reply back feeling disgusted with his brother. Here was another of his friends added to his clothing collection.

"Well, after you went to sleep, I caught him coming out of the bathroom semi naked. I invited him to my room for some fun." Trey paused, smiling. "And it was fun for both of us. I really enjoyed your friend so much. So I decided he should stay with me. I slept in him all night after our fun. I was slightly hoping you wouldn't find out till at least a week later." Trey added.

"You know you really need to stop using my friends to add to your closet and dresser draws." Blake spoke fully knowing his friend now belong to his brother. He would have to burn Drake's things to hide the evidence he was here. He loved his brother Trey, but no one would believe that his brother was turning his friends into objects. "And no, I don't want to borrow him." He walked out of the room fully disgusted with his brother.

"Welcome to my collection, Drake. I am going to enjoy wearing you now that Blake knows." Trey laughed as he retreat back to his room to enjoy his new trophy around his waist. He like turning his brother's hot friends into his property, just that he would never tell Blake that.

macho-viril-deactivated20230820

anon-sect

Fred had borrowed a $20K from a local loan shark with a promise to pay the loan back in full in six months’ time. The money came in handy because he was in dire need. He started saving back as much as he could so that the loan would be paid back in full and on time. But almost to the end of the six months time frame, he fell into financial hardship once again. He had only saved up about two-thirds of the loan. There was no way he would have the full amount plus interest by the end of the deadline.

Fred went to see the loan shark, Davory, to see if the deadline could be extended. “I need a lot more time.” He had requested Davory.

Davory wanted the loan to be paid in full on time. “I gave you six months and no more.” He paused as he was starting to consider another option. One that would benefit both of them. It was also one he has been tempting to try. “But I can give you a secondary option where you won’t have to pay back one penny. But you must agree to it without knowing the terms or conditions.” He laid down Fred’s other option.

Fred would not have the full amount in time, that he knew for sure. He started thinking about the secondary option. He would not have to pay anything back, but he didn’t know what he would have to do for this option. He knew which at the moment was his best choice. “I will do the secondary option.” He spoke up, at least feeling a little relieved.

Davory pulled out a strange device that looked like a small ray gun with a small computer screen on it. He was pressing in the settings. “Since you opted out of paying me. You will spend the next six months as my footwear. A nice, comfortable pair of sneakers would do nicely.” He spoke, pointing it at Fred.

Fred was about to object to the idea of spending the next six months as Davory’s shoes, but he was too late as rays from the device struck him. He immediately saw the whole world around him grow. The realization that he was shrinking scared him. Next came a woozy feeling as he lost consciousness all together.

Davory looked on as a normal human being was reduced to a pair of size twelve sneakers. This was his first time using this option on one who owed him money. At least he was getting something out of the deal. Supposedly, human transformed objects last longer and are more durable, not to mention way more comfortable than normal objects. He took off his current shoes and put Fred on his feet. He found all the rumors to be true. The insoles felt wonderful as he stomped in them. The level of comfort was beyond any normal sneakers. The thought of releasing Fred after six months didn’t seem logical now that he saw that everything he heard was right. He may as well keep Fred as payment for the loan instead.

“Change of plans, I will keep you this way and use this as full payment of the loan plus interest.” He paused. “I must thank you for choosing option two.” He added as he continued to walk on his new shoes.

uw2022

anon-sect

Kyle was highly pissed off at the three guys who yelled homophobic slurs at him and his friends. Those three would make it a point to bother them. On a few occasions, one of his friends wanted to fight them, but he would always manage to calm him down. But deep down inside, he really wanted to get some revenge on those three in a very special way.

Kyle hatched a devious plan to make Grey, Lial, and Jensen fell sorry for what they tried to do to him and his friends. One day while in the restroom, Grey, Lial, and Jensen showed up. He could tell that they had followed him. They fell for his trap. He made sure he was alone in the restroom with them. Before they could start with more homophobic slurs, he pulled out his transformation cellphone device, which was already preset. He flashed at Grey, who instantly dropped to the floor as white Versace underwear. The other were shocked and attempted to run. He flashed a light at them and both dropped to the floor as Adidas socks. He grabbed up the pair of socks and underwear, and put them in a bag. He definitely was going to try them on when he got home.

Once he arrived at home, he went to his bed room and stripped. "You three thought it was funny to pick on me and my friends. Now the joke is on you. You get to be worn by me." He spoke as he pulled up Grey around his waist. "How does it feel to cradle my crotch and ass, Grey." He laughed as he rubbed his crotch area, knowing full well that was where Grey's face was. He took some sadistic pleasure doing so. To have Grey at his mercy felt so good.

He slipped on Lial and Jensen on his feet. "How does it feel to be wrapped around my feet, boys. For me, you two feel really comfortable." He laughed as he wiggled his toes in his socks. He grabbed his device and deleted their transformation data. Without it, it would be impossible to make them human again. "I just deleted the information needed to restore you guys. Sorry to say, but this is now permanent." He spoke to all three. "Good news is that I plan to keep you even after you are torn and worn out. You will definitely make good jerk off material." He laughed again.

He took a picture of his new underwear and socks with his normal phone. Sent the picture to his friends with the caption 'homophobic pricks like to be worn.' A few seconds later, they all sent him laughing emojis.

That's right, faggot. You stay down there on your fucking knees. Surrender and submit. It's the first step to a life of beautiful brutal slavery, owned by these Alphas.

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