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I knew it was wrong to do but my compulsion wouldn't allow me to stop. Roughly every other month, I would take a day off from the office and swap conscious with my secretary's shoe. I've done it for years, gone through several secretaries, and nobody ever knew. I'm not even sure what it is. I'm into feet, sure, but perhaps it's the power dynamic? The feeling of being in a regular place but masked as the shoe of my own employee? I'll never know, but I certainly wouldn't stop.

Stacy was my current secretary. Young, attractive. But the thing that always stood out to me ever since she started was the same pair of flats she wore to work every day. I could tell they were worn with the faint stains on the outside and the distinct imprint on the insole that I'd always catch a glimpse of when she was dangling. I knew what I had to do as soon as I'd met her.

One month into her employ I decided it was time. I took the day off, used my spell and voila, I was in an all-too familiar place: the bottom of a dark closet surrounded by other various pieces of foltwear.

Eventually the door opened and I saw Stacy towering above. She reached down and picked me up, carrying me over to her front door. She dropped me and immediately stuffed a pantyhosed foot in me while we began our walk together.

I had been with some rough owners before, but this one was different. This shoe form was fowl smelling, clearly worn on the daily for years. I could tell how stretched out and used I was. I felt how Stacy's foot fit perfectly into the well-formed imprint I now had on my insole. In the office, I was dangled constantly. One thing she liked to do was take her other flat off, dangle me, and hook her toe into my heel. Her toes on one foot would bend and stretch me while her nylon-clad foot would support me midair. It was a bizarre but unique feeling. I was terrified but elated all at once.

When we were home finally, she kicked me off and threw me into her closet. I was left with a residual stale, musky smell while the remaining hours on my spell dwindled away. Normally I could keep my compulsion under control, but Stacy was different. The way she handled me and used me. How worn my form really was. I'm honestly not sure how much longer I can wait until the next swap...

Description
Text:

I knew it was wrong to do but my compulsion wouldn't allow me to stop. Roughly every other month, I would take a day off from the office and swap conscious with my secretary's shoe. I've done it for years, gone through several secretaries, and nobody ever knew. I'm not even sure what it is. I'm into feet, sure, but perhaps it's the power dynamic? The feeling of being in a regular place but masked as the shoe of my own employee? I'll never know, but I certainly wouldn't stop.

Stacy was my current secretary. Young, attractive. But the thing that always stood out to me ever since she started was the same pair of flats she wore to work every day. I could tell they were worn with the faint stains on the outside and the distinct imprint on the insole that I'd always catch a glimpse of when she was dangling. I knew what I had to do as soon as I'd met her.

One month into her employ I decided it was time. I took the day off, used my spell and voila, I was in an all-too familiar place: the bottom of a dark closet surrounded by other various pieces of foltwear.

Eventually the door opened and I saw Stacy towering above. She reached down and picked me up, carrying me over to her front door. She dropped me and immediately stuffed a pantyhosed foot in me while we began our walk together.

I had been with some rough owners before, but this one was different. This shoe form was fowl smelling, clearly worn on the daily for years. I could tell how stretched out and used I was. I felt how Stacy's foot fit perfectly into the well-formed imprint I now had on my insole. In the office, I was dangled constantly. One thing she liked to do was take her other flat off, dangle me, and hook her toe into my heel. Her toes on one foot would bend and stretch me while her nylon-clad foot would support me midair. It was a bizarre but unique feeling. I was terrified but elated all at once.

When we were home finally, she kicked me off and threw me into her closet. I was left with a residual stale, musky smell while the remaining hours on my spell dwindled away. Normally I could keep my compulsion under control, but Stacy was different. The way she handled me and used me. How worn my form really was. I'm honestly not sure how much longer I can wait until the next swap...