STINKFOOT AND THE GIRLS FROM THE DINER

by Byron

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This story comes to me from another one of Stinkfoot's victims. And it takes place perhaps two years after her graduation from college. Apparently, Stinkfoot was an aspiring actress and she and her friends worked at a local diner to make ends meet. She was busy hustling for work, but she had, by no means, lost her interest in tormenting men with her smelly feet. To press her smelly, damp sock foot onto a man's face and hear him inhale the fetid aroma was one of life's little perverse pleasures. And it amused her to think that she spent long hours working up a sweat in her sneakers and saddleshoes.

Her co-workers were all women, including the cooks. After all, it was a knock-off of Hooters and it was advertised as an all-female establishment. All but for the young man, by the name of Mike, who got paid to bust tables and wash dishes. Naturally, it was Mike who would become the victim of Stinkfoot's rather mischievous sense of humor. And Mike informed me that he agreed to work there only to be close to Miranda "Stinkfoot." He was smitten, and he was prepared to humiliate himself by washing dirty dishes just to fraternize with her from time to time. Of course, it was also a pleasure to work with so many pretty women

Now Stinkfoot knew that men found her attractive; and she was on to Mike from the moment he signed on as the dishboy. he made every excuse just to share the same ten hour night shift. She knew that he'd do anything to be noticed by her; and she took advantage of his devotions by having him run numerous errands for her, and even steal kitchenware for her.

Mike told me he would have done anything to please her, anything but for what she planned for him. He remembers having to give her footrubs after work; and "I wouldn't have minded so much if her feet weren't so goddamn smelly." He endured the stench, because the nightly footrubs were his only opportunity to speak openly with her. And to be thanked by her for a wonderful massage was very heaven.

Now Stinkfoot had been dating an aspiring inventor at the time; and she'd prevailed upon him to design a foot massage device to soothe her aching feet when she returned from work. The inventor designed just such a device, and did so according to her specifications. She wanted the device to feature a chair for her to sit in, and a pair of boots, attached to a platform, for her to slip her feet into. There would be tiny rollers and nobs attached to the inside of the boots (powered electrically), and there would be two larger holes, next to each other, at the toe ends for ventilation. The holes would open into the space under the platform.

Miranda "Stinkfoot" never explained to him that the chair would be placed at an angle so that the boots would be at more of a vertical towards the top of the machine (so as to take the pressure off her legs and feet). She would lift her feet into the boots and trigger the machine for a mind blowing foot massage. There would be a vertical box behing the boots, as well as a horizontal platform underneath. When the inventor remarked to her that there would be enough space in the machine for a man to fit inside it (legs under the platform, torso in the box behind the boots), she laughed and told him to build it. And he did.

When Mike later met with the inventor of the machine, the inventor told that not once had Miranda ever expected him to step inside it. He didn't understand why she wanted the box and platform to be so commodious. Mike explained whay just as he would later explain it to me.

Apparently, Miranda Stinkfoot spoke to him one day and asked him for a favor. Ever willing to oblige, Mike agreed to help. She then told him that she had a contraption to give to one of her co-workers and that she needed him to carry it to work. It was a labor of love but Mike made every effort (borrowed a truck, asked some friends to help him) to please her. And he brought the foot massage device to work just before the morning shift. It was positioned in an unused storage room, because she didn't want anyone to see the surprise.

And then she asked another favor of him. She wanted to see if it was true that a man could fit snugly inside the machine. Assuming that her intentions were innocent, Mike obliged once again, opened the back, slipping his legs under the platform and pressed himself against the front of the box, his face near the ventilation holes for the boots.

And then she told him that if he would let her tie his arms behind his back, he could kiss her. For Mike this was too good to be true, and he placed his arms behind his back for Miranda to tie them up securely. And then she asked him to close his eyes and opon his mouth for the kiss. he did so, and to his surpirse, she stuffed a sour fabric into his mouth; he would later discover this to be a worn sweatsock. He attempted to spit it out in disgust, but Miranda was too quick for him. She pulled some duct tape from behind her and attached it over his mouth. Mike tried to plead with her with his eyes; but Miranda seemed to be hell-bent on doing something wicked.

And then it became clear what the convex handle bar was doing inside the box. One end was affixed to the side near the ventilation holes, and she brought the bar around his head, securing it to the a screw on the other side. With the bar in place, Mike's head was pressed against the wall of the box. He positioned his head slightly so that his nose protruded into one of the ventilation holes; that way he could breathe. Miranda then tightened the bar util he couldn't move his head at all. He remembers her reaching into one of the boots with hear hand and tickling his nose with her fingers.

"Perfect," he heard her exclaim as she closed the box and turned the motor on. "This is going to be good." The hum of the rollers would drown out his moans of protest. But he could make out her footfalls as she ran from the room.

Not five minutes later, Mike heard some female chatter. He attempted to call attention to his predicament, but he couldn't moan loud enough to be heard over the machine; and the machine was too sturdy to be moved. He was hoping that someone would notice him, or that Miranda would put an end to her litle practical joke.

And then he heard Miranda speak. "So who wants to try it first," she asked. "So you have to stick your feet in those boots there?" asked Michelle, one of the waitresses who, like Mirands, was just finishing her shift. "They look tight; won't our feet get sweaty?" she continued.

"They'll fit like a glove; they're really comfy. And don't worry, there's ventilation." He heard Miranda chuckled and then it dawned on him. Miranda was going to make him smell their feet. It was perverse but why else would she position him so that his nose protruded into the ventilation hole near the toe end of the boot?

Then Glenda spoke up. "I'll try it. God knows I could use it. I've been on my feet for twelve hours." Glenda had been wearing saddle shoes with frilly white socks; and she had indeed been working beyond her typical ten hour shift. "Sorry girls, but you'd better cover your noses," she remarked with a giggle; and she pried of her shoes. She sat in the seat, and raised her sock feet, positioning one foot into a boot and then the other.

Within seconds, Mike felt a warm, moist fabric brush up against his nose. And then he smelled it. It was a stale, pungent odor of foot sweat and the cloying aroma of old, well-worn saddle shoes. He struggled to pul his noes away from the stench, but he couldn't move.

I think there's something in the shoe," remarked Glenda. "Just betwen my toes and the ball of my foot."

"Oh, that's supposed to be there," responded Miranda with a laugh. "It feels good if you rub your foot against it and if you clench your toes around it."

Mike felt her moist sock toes tighten around his nose, as he inhaled the scent of her stinky foot. "You're right," said Glenda, "it does feel good. And those rollers; I think I'm in heaven."

Poor Mike was the farthest thing from heaven as he took breath after breath of her fetid foot odor. It was like being trapped inside her saddle shoe while she worked. And if she said she'd been wearing her shoes for two days straight, he wouldn't have been surprised. her feet positively reeked. But he breathed it in, as she rubbed her foot against his nose, and curled her sock toes about it. He began to feel a bit queasy from inhaling nothing but her foot stink, but he had to stinck it out. For a full fifteen minutes.

The other waitresses were going about their business. But then one of the other waitresses, Angela, wanted to give the machine a try. "Oh, must this come to an end," pleaded Glenda. They laughed and before long, Mike's nostrils flooded with fresh air.

This didn't last long because Angela sat in the machine, slipped off her keds, which she'd been wearing for ten hours without socks and slipped her feet into the boots. "I Hope I'm not going to get athletes foot or something," asked Angela. "My feet may stink, but they're clean," said Glenda.

And then Mike was assailed by a sharp and full-bodied cheese smell. he could feel the warmth of her bare foot as she rubbed the ball of her foot against his nose; and when she clutched his nose with her toes, he could fel just how damp with sweat they were. But the stench was beyond belief.

"Oh, this feels great," said Glenda, quite gleefully. "But that bump in there feels like a nose."

"If it is," responded Glenda who must have been putting her shoes back on before leaving, "I feel awfully sorry for it." The women laughed hysterically and Angela clutched Mike's nose with her sweaty, musty smelling toes. "Its the ventilation; all of the air from passes between your toes, though the bump and out the back somewhere," added Glenda before leaving.

For the span of ten minutes of so, Angela wriggles her bare toes over his nose and rubbed her feet back and forth over the rollers inside the boots. The tight boots made her feet sweat, and Mike could feel the sweat beyond rubbed into his nose and over the part of his face which covered the ventilation hole. Mike could imagine what it must be liked to be trapped inside her funky Keds all day; it was sheer torture, inhaling such a sickly-sweet, fruity smell. And to make it worse, Angela loved rubbing the ball of her sweaty foot over his nose. And he could hear her moan softly whenever she did.

And then Michelle must have returned because she asked Angela is she could have a turn. "I could keep my feet in their all night," murmered Angela, lost in some kind of reverie. "Mmmn."

"Yeh, well it's my turn, and my feet are killing me," insisted Michelle.

After a few seconds, the musty smell passed and Mike once again breathed fresh air; he took greedy gasps in anticipation of another disagreeable session of foot sniffing.

And then Mike could hear Michelle's Pumas fall to the floor. And before he could feel the warmth of her sock feet, he could smell her sour foot odor; and once her damp sock foot brushed against his nose, he took a deep breath which almost induced him to gag. It surprised him that his co-workers could have such stinky feet; and Michelle's were foul.

Mike was surprised to smell fresh air for a moment, and he believed his torment at an end. But Michelle had only removed her socks. And her sweaty bare foot brushed against his nose, as she positioned her foot so as to press her toes over his nose. Mike's eyes were watering, but he could do nothing to wipe away the tears; all he could do was take breath after breath of Michelle's bare toes which smelled faintly of Parmesan cheese. He moaned to get her attention, but it was to no avail. She could hear nothing. And her moans suggested that she wouldn't remove her feet from the boots unless someone asked her to.

And, after ten minutes, which felt like half an hour, Teresa, one of the cooks, spoke to Michelle. "Hey, time's up, my feet hurt too." And for a few seonds, Mike enjoyed another spell of fresh air before being besieged by yet another nasty-smelling foot. Teresa had kicked off her sneakers, and peeled off her sweatsocks before slipping her feet into the boots. "Mmmn, I love that lump at the toe end," she declared, scrunching Mike's nose between her sweaty toes. Teresa's feet suggested something animal; they smelled like a mangy dog; it was cruel, but Teresa was oblivious to Mike's discomfort. Shw wriggled her toes with pleasure as the rollers gently soothed her heel and sole. "Heaven," she declared.

Mike endured this for ten minutes, when he heard Miranda's voice again. "You look like you've just had an orgasm," she remarked. Teresa chuckled. "My feet are so happy right now, thanks Miranda. You can leave the massager here anytime." The manager, a lady by the name of Joclyn, entered the room and asked about the massager. "I hope I get a turn," she said. "Do I have to go?" said Teresa. Joclyn and Miranda laughed.

Fresh air tickled his nose, before Joclyn's pedicured feet slid into the boots and pressed against Mike's nose. The scent was faint; and a welcome relief to Mike who'd been inhaling the most putrid foot stink for upwards of fifty minutes. She playfully grabbed at his nose with her toes, brushed her toes against his noes and squeezed it. "This is fun," remarked Joclyn. She liked having something for her toes to play with while the rollers pressed against her heel and sole.

And then Miranda politely asked Joclyn if she could ty out the machine. Joclyn stepped away and left Miranda alone with Mike. "Having fun?" she asked him. "Oh, I hope you don't mind the smell, but we work hard. I think I'll try it out."

He could hear her sneakers drop to the floor as she climbed into the seat. Miranda Stinkfoot had been wearing her sneakers withour socks, as usual; and she always wore the same pair. And before long, his senses wer assaulted by the most potent, aggressive foot odor he'd ever had the misfortune to smell. It was the unmistakable smell of stnky feet; but the scent was intensified, and so sharp and vinegary it hurt to sniff. he knew just how smelly her feet were from having to give her footrubs, but he had no intention of sniffing them up close. but Miranda gave him no choice. And her sweaty toes clutched at Mike's nose and slithered over it, as Mike breathed in the fetid stench.

"And if you try to give me a hard time about this, I'll tell them about the peep hole into the women's bathroom, and I'll tell them you've been spying on us." It wasn't true, but there was indeed a hole, and the others would have believed him.

"Maybe in future, I'll have you lick my feet clean after work," she said. Mike would have laughed at the disgusting suggestion, but he could do nothing but smell the ball of her foot.

He must have been sniffing her putrid, vinegar smelling bare toes for fifteen minutes, while Miranda rubbed her toes over his face as much as possible, before she spoke again. "You know," she said, "I don't trust you. You'll kick and scream he minute I let you out and you'll try to get me fired, won't you." Mike was desperate to defend his honesty, though he probably would have kicked and screamed and tried to get her fired.

"Well, I'm going to make sure this doesn't blow up in my face, " she added. "Sorry Mike," and she slipped her feet from the boots. "I'll be back," she exclaimed. Debbie, one of the waitresses from the morning shift took advantage of Miranda's departure to sample the machine heself; and before long, a warm pair sock foot pressed against his nose; the scent was bearable, but it still angered him that these women should feel free to rub their feet in his face.

And then Mike could hear the sharp, staccato voices of angry women enter the room. "I was scared. I didn't know what to do," said Miranda, pretending to be distressed. "But I'm sure he's been watching everyone through the peephole." "Goddamn that little pervert," huffed Joclyn, angrily. "We should report this to the police," added Joclyn.

And then Miranda remarked that she had to make a confession. "I thought I'd take justice into my own hands; I mean he'd probably get off scott free; he's, well, in the box."

Joclyn sounded shocked. "he's in the box?" Angela was there and Mike heard her say, "in the box, what do you mean?"

Well, you know the object you thought was a nose, well, it was." There was a stunned silence and hen mike could hear Angela laugh; Joclyn and someone else joined in. "You mean, he's been smelling our feet the whole time?" said Michelle, who had also joined the conversation. "You're brilliant, Miranda," exclaimed Angela.

"I'm sorry Joclyn," said Miranda, "but I was angry." "It's okay," replied Joclyn. "he deserved it."

And then Debbie spoke up. "you mean Mike's smelling my feet as we speak?" This drew a prolonged bout of laughter from everyone present. Debbie got up and then Miranda unlocked he back panel. A few of the women gasped when they saw his head clasped inside the bar. Miranda climbed back into the seat, removed a shoe and slid a foot into the boot. Mike was once again greeted with the characteristic raunch with emanated from Miranda's sweaty bare feet. "See," said Miranda, "he's sniffing my toes right now." Everyone laughed.

And then it was agreed to that all of the women should be given a chance to torment Mike with their foot stink; after all, he could have been spying on any one of them. Miranda and the others pulled Mike from the machine, but they chose not to untie his hands. Once the sock gag was removed, Mike endeavored to defend himself. He explained that Miranda was lying and that she was the real pervert; but no one listened. He was wasting his breath. Glenda removed one of her funky old socks and stuffed it into Mike's mouth, to the infinite amusement of everyone present. "Just stuff it," she proclaimed. More laughter.

They left him tied up until the waitresses from the morning shift finished in the afternoon; he was installed in the machine and subjected to an array of foot odors which rivaled anything he'd been forced to stomach that morning. The women wee having a blast, and they found it supremely satisfying to punish the peeping tom this way. And when Miranda retuend that afternoon to check on Mike's progress, and to explain to the women on the next shift what had happened, she encouraged everyone to humiliate him for spying on them.

Some of the women from the afternoon/evening shift were inspired enough to punish Mike more apropriately; and with unbridled giggles, several of the women pulled Mike's pants and underpants down to his ankles. "See how you like being spied on," remarked one of the women. They called everyone in to gaze at Mike's humiliation; and from the riotous laughter which ensued, it was obvious that they loved the show. "Nice package," shrieked one of the girls.

And, later that evening, Mike was attached to the machine and forced to endure the stench which had accumulated from a long day and evening on their feet. Most of them made a point of wearing their shoes without socks just to intensify his punishment. And once again his nostrils were besieged with the most ungodly of foot smells. They gleefully rubbed their toes over his nose and cupped their toes over his nose, imploring him to take deep breaths and to enjoy the musty air.

Everyone loved forcing Mike to smell their feet; and they all believed that the foot stink was a great punishment. before allowing him to leave, Miranda and the women from the night shift who had just arrived that evening, took the opportunity to pull his pants down and make him shuffle about with his pants and underpants about his ankles. The giggling was infectious and glenda remarked that she would now have a hilarious image with which to remember him by.

"We had lots of fun," said Miranda, "I hope you did." She untied his hands and removed the sock gag (which was once of many rank socks used to stop his mouth that day)from his mouth and Joclyn, who returned to see him off, told him never again to set foot in their diner. Glenda gave him a swift kick to the rear end, which sent him tumbling to the flor, his pants still around his ankles. Everyone laughed. Too embarassed to say anything, Mike pulled up his pants, and to the tune of high-pitched female laughter, he stepped outsdie and never again set foot in that diner.

Mike has tried to put it behind him; but how can you put something like that behind you? Naturally, he came to me to make a full confession and to help to shed some light on the elusive personality of Miranda Stinkfoot. Unfortunately, we are no wiser than we were to begin with; and Mike never saw her again.

But Mirands Stinkfoot would exert a most pernicious influence upon women. And many a man would fall prey to her wicked sense of humor; moreover, many a man would be forced to smell her foul-smelling toes, the toes which would earn her the name of Stinkfoot.