October Caption Challenge (15/31)
The divorce had been rough. Sure, he’d made mistakes, but now he was losing the house, he could only see his son on the weekends, and he was going to have to pay her alimony? It had just been a fucking prostitute–ok, a few prostitutes, usually while he was out of town on business. If she’d just put out more, none of this would have happened.
Dale wound up in a two bedroom apartment not too far from work, but it was hard not to resent the whole mess. Frustrated, he ended up befriending one of his neighbor’s Max, and the two of them would stay up drinking, talking about their respective problems. Or at least, Dale would talk, and Max would listen.
One evening, Max interrupted Dale’s usual diatribe to suggest something. “You know, I have this little app on my phone, maybe it can help you out a bit, move past this a little.”
“Oh?” Dale asked.
Max pulled out his phone, loaded it up, and the flashlight in it began to strobe. “Yeah, it’s just a little trance program. Puts you in a relaxed state. All you have to do is look at the light. Might help you settle a bit, sleep better. I could help you push some of this stuff out of your head for a bit, get past it.”
Max looked up, and saw that Dale was already staring at the flashing light, mouth open and drooling a bit.
He smiled. “Yeah, that’s perfect. Don’t you worry buddy, I know just the thing to help you get over that bitch ex-wife.”
And so, Dale found himself developing a new relationship, this time, with Max’s feet. It was just a few suggestions at first, and Max went barefoot for a while, watching Max’s eyes track his footsteps all over their apartments. Soon enough, he got him drunk, and Max was more than happy to worship his feet, love them, kiss them, and each sniff helped him forget his ex-wife a little more.
Once Max was certain the new footpig was well under his control, he told him that he wanted to make a deal. After all, Dale shouldn’t just get to worship these wonderful feet for free–no, there was something else that Max wanted. He wanted his son. Dale had introduced them, of course, and Max was just a few months shy of turning eighteen, which meant he’d be able to visit his dad all he wanted. Except Dale was going to help Max out, wasn’t he?
So the next weekend, they pinned his son down, tied him up, and after a few hours, he was already sniffing the inside of Max’s sneakers, moaning and groaning like the little foot slave he was going to become, just like his dad.
Since Max was going to be busy, and Dale wouldn’t be able to service him as much, Max had a surprise for him–he’d started renting him out as a footwhore online, and he already had his first client scheduled today.
Sure enough, a motorcycle pulled up, and an old, grungy looking chubby biker got off, and headed for where Dale and Max were standing in front of their apartments. “Hey Dale, this the pig?” he asked.
“Yep–you’ll show Willis here a good time, won’t you Dale?”
Dale gulped–but once the biker got his boots off and he got a whiff of his road funk, Max’s reservations melted away. Soon enough, his son didn’t even visit his dad, he just went right to Max’s apartment. Not too long after that, Dale and his son forgot that they were even related. He was Max’s dirty little footpig, his obedient, sexy son, and Dale was just the nasty, perverted footwhore who lived next door.