Boryn Stone
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Facing the Boot
🕑 Added 2023-07-05 00:58:38 +0000 UTCYou were taking a piss in a small bathroom, having forgone locking the door thinking you were only going to be a second. A man barged in a moment later as you were trying to finish.
"Hold on" You said, but the man didn't listen. He let the door close behind him before kicking you under your knee.
You fell to the floor, your legs unable to control your fall landing your head right above the toilet. He didn't give you a moment to recover, placing a heel on the back of your skull and pinning your face to the bowl. The world turned as you absorbed the impact, having to blink spots from your eyes before everything righted.
"Lick boy" He commanded.
You tried to struggle against his weight, grunting, but another kick against the bowl and your head was spinning again.
"I said LICK"
You had no choice but to stick your tongue out, hoping it would all be over.
The moment your tastebuds made contact everything changed. The taste of metal and dried piss left on the rim by many men spread to your entire face. It completely overwhelmed your senses, your head feeling suddenly light and airy. Your vision collapsed from the edges, blacking out. You could no longer retract your tongue.
The weight of his foot began to rock back and forth, somehow rolling your tongue all along the rim making you taste every inch. It couldn't have been possible, your tongue wasn't that long. Still, you felt your face pressed hard onto the rim, feeling a strange rubber buffer absorbing the force.
You had thought he was wearing boots before, but now you swore you could feel his toes against you. Their smell seemed to be seeping right into you and replacing your thoughts, drenching your mind with their sweat. It was as if they were inside your skull, pressing into your soft brain using it as an insole.
They were.
You could no longer control your movement, your body having turned into one of his boots. He stepped back, placing his feet back on the tile where you got to taste its built-up dirt and grime. It stuck to you as he walked out, each step setting your tastebuds on the ground beneath him and feeling his crushing weight above you.
Your body continued to pick up all the dirt around him as he worked, keeping it in your ridges and creases. His sweat continued to seep into you until it had replaced your consciousness entirely, your existence repurposed to be one of his filthy boots.
