The year is 2069 and you're relaxing in your middle class home. The ground shakes a few times but
you try to ignore it, knowing full well what it is.
Suddenly, a loud banging sounds at your door, like some madman was trying to bash it in. You rush to
the door to find the source of the disturbance. Opening the door you're not met with any normal visitor,
in fact it takes you a moment to realize what it is you're looking at. Huge walls of shiny black rubber,
blocking your view of the street. Your eyes trail up and fear wells up within you.
Looming over your home is an anthropomorphic rabbit, clad in the black leather long coat denoting his
status within the state, taller than a skyscraper, the cute, cream color furred face made terrifying by a
malicious smile and cruel eyes locked right onto you. A Gestapaw, the states enforcers. But why was
one here, and knocking on your door of all things?
"Good afternoon-" The bunny squints down at you mailbox, trying to discern your name. "Whatever
your name is. I've got a few questions regarding your recent feet pics...or rather the lack of them." The
massive lagomorph smirks.
Your first instinct is to flee back inside your house, but you know that the bunny could simply pry you
out of it with ease...if they'd even bother with than and not just crush your house under one of those bus
sized black boots. You realize what they just said. "M-my feet pics?" You think back, you hadn't exactly
indulged much in feet this month, in fact you'd told your neighbor that you'd kind of gotten sick of feet
two nights ago. The realization hits you and you snap you head to your neighbors house, seeing the
shudder of the blinds betraying the tattle-tales eyes locked on the scene transpiring outside. "I-i dont
know what you're talking about!" You plead. “I-i got a batch of feet pics just last night!”
The bunny smiles wider, leaning forward to eclipse the sky above you. “How curious-” their warm
breath wafts down towards you, vaguely sweet smelling. “My records don’t show any sign of this
house receiving so much as a single picture of a toe.” They put on a faux frown. “You wouldn't happen
to be lying to me, would you?” Before you can babble out a reply the ground shakes and one of those
perfectly polished black boots rise up, sailing through the sky to hover above your head. “You do know
what the punishment for lying to the Gestapaw is, don’t you?”
As the shadow passes over you, the clumps of dirt caught in the boots treads raining down on your roof
and walkway, you try to stammer out an excuse frantically. The heavy weight of the boot presses on
your roof and you cower in your doorway, shrieking in terror. Just when you think your roof is about to
crumble, the boot stops.
“But, I’m feeling merciful today.” the bunnies loud voice muses. You hear your roof creak and strain as
the bunny leans forward, holding onto the boot to slide their foot out, leaving the heavy boot propped
up on your house, seemingly stable for the moment. “I’ll give you a chance to show your devotion to
the states ideals.” You watch, frozen in fear as the bunnies paw descends into your front yard, softly
touching onto the ground, immediately the hot, humid smell of the paw hits your nostrils. “Well?” the
bunnies much sharper tone snaps you out of your transfixed stare. “What are you waiting for?”
You spring to you feet and rush to the massive paw, practically throwing yourself against it. The huge,
cream colored fuzzy toes curl at your touch, the fur is damp and slick with sweat, likely from walking
around in a small towns worth of rubber all day, made even worse since socks were outlawed. You
press your hands into the flesh, the plush toes feeling like touching a soft radiator to your relatively
colder hands. The smell of rubber and sweat permeates the air, stinging your nostrils with each breath.
The toes splay suddenly, shocking you slightly. “Tongue. Use it.”
Taking a shallow breath, you press your face in between the bunnies toes. It feels like pressing your
face into a moist, warm towel, the taste is salty, only made bearable by not being able to smell it,
mouthfuls of the liquid fill your mouth. The toes wiggle around you and a rumbling, satisfied sigh rings
through the air. “And what do we say?” the bunny prompts.
You grimace, forced to take a breath to respond to the bunny. “huff T-thank you!”
The bunny smirks down at you. Before you can react, the plush bunny toes clamp down around you,
holding you in place like two, sweaty, warm mattresses. The bunny bends forward in an exaggerated
manner and plucks you out from between the two digits, holding you to their malicious, superior face.
“I’m sad to say I’m not convinced.” They smile. “I’m afraid I’ll have to sentence you to a months stay
in the Shoelag.”
Before you can plead or point out that Shoelag thing fits a communist regime better than the fascistic
thing the foot fetishist regime is clearly going for, the bunny bends forward again, holding you over the
lid of the boot they left on your house. You get a moment to catch a whiff of the hot, rank smell coming
out of the dark confines of the rubber boot before the fingers part, dropping you into your new prison.
Without their smirk faltering in the slightest, the bunny raises their foot, taking a moment to wiggle
their toes to get rid of the dirt from your now foot-print marred front lawn before slipping their foot
back into the boot, crushing down onto half your house in the process. They roll the boot around,
feeling your tiny body shift around until you’re in the desired spot between the ball of their foot and the
large toe. Satisfied that this latest transgression against the foot fetishist state has been dealt with, the
bunny casts a glance at your neighbors house and gives them a knowing smile, before walking off,
eager to continue their long day of finding the states enemies.