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The Box of . . .something

A loud, dangerous-sounding crackle booms from the box. You struggle to remove your feet, but obviously cannot. Suddenly, the box lifts upwards on a pedistool leaving two stumps at the ends of your legs. You shriek in terror and struggle fruitlessly to pull your legs out of the manacles. It isn't until Flamedramon briefly tickles your tummy that you even begin to calm down.

Your seat suddenly begins to change. What was a reclining position quickly becomes an uncomfortablly upright kneel. The box reaches eye level, which Flamedramon spins around and pushes up inches from your face.

Flamedramon is chuckling now. "You have absolutely no idea what's going on, do you?" You shake your head violently. He pulls off the side and top panels, throwing them to the floor with aggrevating clangs. Finally, he slides away the barrier directly in front of your face to reveal your soles.

Your soles sit only six inches away from your snout. You use one foot to carefully scratch the other sole and you find yourself torn. On one hand, you are panicked and surely about to be tortured. On the other, damn if your new feet arn't cute. Meaty toes perched ontop of soft, wrinkly soles which lead to tight little heels. You stretch your fresh toes to see how the skin responds. The massive feet are more than large enough to reach the pads of your toes all the way to your snout, so you let them.


Written by The Tickler

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