Newsgroups: talk.bizarre,alt.butt.harp,alt.prose
Subject: RICHH:  MAYNARD'S FEET
Message-ID: <1992May5.195812.20357@tigger.jvnc.net>
From: richh@tigger.jvnc.net (RICHH)
Date: Tue, 5 May 1992 19:58:12 GMT
Sender: news@tigger.jvnc.net (Zee News Genie)
Followup-To: alt.prose.d
Organization: JvNCnet, Princeton University, NJ

Maynard awoke one morning to discover that the middle toe on
each of his feet had been replaced by a woman's toe.  Because he
was so fat it was difficult for him to get a good look at the toes
and could only see them by angling a pocket mirror.  They
looked very odd there, small and pink and sandwiched in by his own
bloated, hairy ones.  These new ones were delicate and sensitive
and perfect.  Maynard felt very giddy.
     He really wanted to touch them and was able to only by
crossing his legs(which took some doing) and reaching around his
belly.  He rolled the toe on his left foot between his right thumb
and forefinger.  It was smooth and had a tiny, neatly-trimmed nail
on it.  He tickled the underside of it, whispering "Gitchy-goo,
gitchy-gitchy-goo."  He then showered, dressed, gave himself a few
spritzes of Drakkar Noir and went to work.
     "Hi Maynard," said Molly, the plump, friendly receptionist. 
"Hey, what's gotten into *you*?"
     "What do you mean?" said Maynard, running a hand through his
hair. 
     "I don't know."  She smiled.  Nice teeth, thought Maynard. 
"But *some*thing's different."
     There *did* seem to be a new spring in the fat man's step, and
he glided into his office, Molly watching him as he sailed.  He
took of his shoes and socks.  Now, all of his toes except the big
ones had been replaced by female toes.  He curled them into the
carpet.  
     "Ooooh," he purred to himself, "that is *so* nice."  He had an
erection, which he adjusted for comfort and continued rubbing his
toes on the carpet.  Soon, he climaxed.  He cleaned himself up and
asked Molly to lunch.  
     "Wow," she said.  "Sure."
     Maynard got little done for the next few hours.  Just before
lunchtime, he removed his shoes and socks again.  All of his toes
were now female.  He rubbed one foot over top of the other and got
another erection.  "This little piggy went to market, this little
piggy stayed home, this little piggy--"
     "Ready, Mayn?" Molly asked over the intercom.
     "Be right there," he said.
     He took her downtown to Sfuzzi, the trendy, upscale center
city eatery with the funny name.  Actually, Maynard knew it was
pronounced 'F(long u)tsee', but he called it 'footsie'.  
     They both got gnocchi verdi and Maynard reached under the
table and removed a shoe and sock.  
     "Maynard," pleaded Molly, sotto voice, "there are people
here."  His foot was making good progress and was already past her
knee.
     "Your foot is so soft, Maynard."  She started to look down.
     He caught her chin in his hand and said, "No.  Don't look."
     "It feels nice," she said, her gnocchi getting cold.
     They made love in Maynard's office, she on the edge of his
desk, he curling and uncurling his toes as he moved.   
     Later, after Molly had moved in with Maynard and had
discovered his secret, Maynard could be heard saying, "Hold my
foot.  Hold my foot."  They would spend entire days in bed, Molly
sucking on Maynard's perfect toes while he drifted lazily from one
orgasm to the next.  By this time both of his feet were perfect
women's size sevens and Maynard had gotten a new job working for an
Italian designer of women's shoes.  He soon became famous in
fashion circles and was in heavy demand to try on shoes for
designers all over the world.  In addition to his enormous hourly
rates for modelling, Maynard was also given free pairs of shoes
wherever he went.  In just over a year he had way more than Imelda
and bought himself an extravagant house on Philadelphia's Main
Line.  In every room was deep pile carpet and Maynard seemed to ice
skate over it until the pleasure became excruciating and he would
have to rest.
     He lost weight and would walk around the house naked.  
     "I feel barefoot all over!" he exclaimed to Molly one day
while she was painting his toenails.  
     "I love you, Maynard."
     When his calves started to change she left him.
 
RICHH
--sometimes it be that way, you know