“Little Zoe,” as she was known, was quite the odd high school senior. She stood at just 4’11” with a petite frame, hence her nickname. Neither her tiny body, nor her punkish attitude and style befitted her status as one of her school’s finest athletes. Zoe was the star of her school’s girls’ soccer team, her small frame allowing her to nimbly dribble circles around defenders with the ball. She was adorably beautiful, but her punkish attitude and style scared away most of the boys. Her jet black hair was dyed with green highlights, and she usually dressed in a t-shirt, ragged jeans, and old Converse Chuck Taylor sneakers. She also wore a choker and had several piercings, including a nose and lip piercing.
Zoe didn’t get along with her fellow athletes, so she hung out with the other punks at her Florida high school. She had recently developed a crush on Josh, who hung out with the same crowd. Josh had been the first person to introduce Zoe to alcohol, cigarettes, and weed, and she loved his rebellious attitude and disarmingly good looks.
Zoe had just finished scoring three goals in her team’s big victory over their rival school. It had been unusually hot lately in Florida, along with Florida’s trademark humidity. Zoe wiped the sweat off her brow as she began walking home. Suddenly, she spotted Josh coming around the corner of the gymnasium. The school’s basketball team had just gotten done playing as well, and people were leaving the gym’s exits in droves.
“Okay Zoe, this is the time, don’t puss out,” she thought to herself. This was finally going to be the time she was going to ask Josh out. As she was about to open her mouth, however, a tall, beautiful, tanned blonde in a cheerleader’s uniform ran around the corner behind Josh, grabbed him from behind, and gave him a kiss. Zoe’s heart sank. It was Brittany.
“Oh, hi midget,” Brittany said with a mean laugh after spotting her. “See my new boyfriend, Josh? Isn’t he lovely? It’s too bad you could never handle him, ‘must be this tall to ride’,” she quipped. Zoe ran away crying.
“Why HER,” she thought. Brittany didn’t seem like the punkish Josh’s type, “but I guess she’s every guy’s type,” she thought. Brittany was the most popular and beautiful girl in school, and her breasts were the only thing bigger than her popularity. She had also mercilessly teased Zoe, or as Brittany had always referred to her, “midget,” for years. The one time Zoe actually stood up to her, two years ago, Brittany had beaten the shit out of her.
By the time Zoe got home, she had managed to stop crying. “Hi Zoe, how’d the game go,” her mom asked as she entered the house.
“We won, and I scored three times,” Zoe responded, putting on a happy face for her mom.
“That’s great honey,” her mom replied. “Oh, your father and I are going on a small trip up north next weekend, I trust you to behave and look after the house, you’re 18 now, you’re old enough,” she said.
“Thanks for trusting me mom,” Zoe responded, heading up to her room. When she got into her room, Zoe couldn’t hold back any longer and started crying again. “Why HER,” she again thought to herself. Zoe took off her shoes and was immediately greeted by a strong, sweaty odor coming from her sweat-soaked soccer socks. Her feet had always been exceptionally sweaty and stinky despite being tiny size 4’s, and the hot, humid Florida weather only made things worse. Suddenly, Zoe stopped crying, and started slightly grinning. She realized that the cheerleading team was going to a cheerleading camp over the weekend. Zoe had a plan for Brittany.
One week later, it was Friday again. While walking home from her soccer game, Zoe pulled out her cell phone and made a call. She got a voicemail.
“Yes, hi, this is Brittany’s mother, I’m just calling to let you know that poor Brittany has suddenly fallen ill and won’t be able to make the camp this weekend,” she said, doing her best impression of Brittany’s mother. Doing impressions was one of Zoe’s finest talents, and she constantly made her friends laugh with it. She was positive it would sound convincing.
The next morning, Zoe hid behind a bush on the route from Brittany’s house to the school, where the bus was waiting to take her to cheer camp. Zoe knew Brittany would be walking to school that day, as she always did. As Brittany walked past her, Zoe suddenly darted out of the bushes, jumped up, and grabbed Brittany’s face from behind.
“Hey Brittany, does this cloth smell like chloroform,” she asked. Moments later, Brittany’s body went limp, and Zoe quickly threw her in the back seat of her car, which she had conveniently parked on the curb right next to where she was now standing. Zoe jumped into the driver’s seat and drove back to her house quickly, parking in the garage. Her parents were already gone for the weekend.
When Brittany woke up, the first thing she noticed was an awful, salty, bitter taste in her mouth, and a sharp, rubbery odor. She could also hear a nearby television. She opened her eyes, but could not see. Panicking, she tried to bring her hands to her face to wipe her eyes, but could not. In fact, she could barely move at all. Her hands had been bound together behind her back, as well as bound to her ankles, which were also bound together. She tried to scream, but all that came out was a muffled sound, as her mouth had been gagged and taped shut. Brittany began flailing about on the floor, futilely attempting to escape her bounds, screaming behind the gag.
“Hi Brittany, do my socks taste good,” Zoe asked her. With this, Brittany’s muffled screams became louder, and were now mixed with tears. “I’ve been wearing those socks every day for a week, to school and under my soccer socks for practices and games. And it’s been so hot out lately, I’m sure there’s a lot of yummy sweat in there for you to enjoy,” she continued with a laugh.
“What the hell is going on,” Brittany thought to herself, as she continued to fruitlessly try to escape her bonds.
“Oh, and while you were out I took some pictures of you with your face in my pussy, if you tell ANYONE about this they’ll find themselves all over school and everyone will think you’re a lesbian,” Zoe said. She looked down upon Brittany, still in her cheerleading outfit, and admired her handiwork. She was particularly proud of the hood over Brittany’s head, which Zoe had made herself. Covering most of Brittany’s head was canvas stitched together which she had bought from the local art supply store. Brittany’s face, however, was covered by one of Zoe’s old, ratty Converse All-Stars, its toe-end right over Brittany’s nose. Zoe had cut the bottom out of the toe-end of the shoe’s sole, and had stitched the canvas of the shoe to the canvas hood covering Brittany’s head. As Brittany continued to struggle against her bonds, crying, she could smell the rubbery, musty interior of the sneaker.
Zoe dragged Brittany along the ground until she was lying on her back next to the living room couch.
“It was so hot and humid out yesterday, and I ran so much during the soccer game last night that I was too tired to take a shower last night, or even undress! I even slept in my cleats I was so tired when I got home,” Zoe said. “When I changed shoes this morning, the smell of my feet made me gag,” she continued. Suddenly, Brittany heard the distinct sound of a sneaker coming off a foot and hitting the ground next to her head. “Here, you can see what I mean,” Zoe said. With that, Zoe stuck her tiny, sweaty bare foot into the shoe on Brittany’s face. Suddenly, Brittany felt five tiny, hot, wet toes cup themselves over her nose. It only took one sniff to make her gag. The smell was unlike anything she had smelled before, an impossibly sharp, strong, sour and musty odor which literally burned the inside of her nostrils. As Zoe began to tie the shoe tightly, Brittany began thrashing about out on the floor violently, making it difficult for Zoe to tie the shoe. Zoe quickly reached down, grabbed Brittany’s nipple, and squeezed and twisted it as hard as she could. Brittany screamed in pain.
“Now stop moving if you don’t want that again,” Zoe ordered. Brittany stopped moving, crying on the floor as she was forced to breathe in Zoe’s horrid foot odor. Zoe finished tying the shoe on Brittany’s face and lay back onto the couch, checking the on-screen guide of her TV. Despair set in for Brittany when she heard one of the three-hour-long Lord of the Rings movies beginning.
“Now I’m going to chill here and watch this movie, and I want you to stop crying so I can hear it, or it’s more titty-twisters for you, got it,” Zoe said firmly. Brittany quickly ceased her crying, trying to train her thoughts onto something else to distract herself from the hell she was enduring. However, the only thing she could think about was the horrid, sour odor of Zoe’s toes, which were resting comfortably over her nose.
One hour later, Zoe’s toes actually seemed to smell worse to Brittany. They were definitely sweatier, the combined heat of Zoe’s foot and Brittany’s face enveloping the inside of the shoe, causing Zoe’s foot to sweat continuously. That’s when Brittany heard Zoe beginning to snore. Brittany started crying again. It was going to be a long, smelly night for her.