Inanimatefan1 - Inanimate TF

REFURBISHED

(Content warning: contains minor homophobic language and themes. Please enjoy kinks responsibly)

There was this new trendy shoe store in town. Apparently it sold popular sports brands ‘refurbished’ at heavily discounted prices. It obviously seems too good to be true. Unfortunately I quickly find out that most of the items are trainers from that awful brand, NIKE.

Me and my gay friend Tom peruse the shelves, picking up a few pairs. Strange. All the labels on them have names scribbled on them with pen, with a date underneath ‘Callum - 13/07’. I put the trainer back down and look at the slides. Great, I think - they never have size 14 in stock. It’s for the best anyway, this brand is for brainless chavs. I audibly scoff out loud, dramatically telegraphing my distaste. Tom rolls his eyes at me. “You and your dumb hangups, this is why you don’t have a boyfriend. That and your prohibitively high standards of hygiene. They’re not even that bad. Could be worse, they could be Adidas after all. Ha.”

“Har har. Very funny Tom. Principles don’t cost—“

Turning around, I’m almost scared to death, standing an inch away from us is what I can only presume is an employee, looking to be about 19 or 20 years old. I let out a restrained yelp and take a step backwards. “Oh uh, soz mates. So, anything take yur fancy? They’re like the—the best prices in town. Mint right?” The stereotypical looking chav remarks with disinterest, as if reading from a script.

He’s wearing a matching NIKE outfit, the familiar logo I despised visible from every conceivable angle. There’s a name tag on his sweatshirt, ‘Josh’. Great, I’m sure this conversation will be of the upmost sophistication and class.

“Hurry up gaylords.” Josh spits impatiently. Sigh. I do so hate to be right.

“Sorry. Not for me, I kinda really hate this brand, most of their stuff is unethically sourced. And did you know that…uh…” I trail off. The employee glares at me with pure disdain, as if I had just insulted his mother.

“Look, ‘your majesty’, either yous princesses buy something or ya take your place on a shelf. Both of you. Gayboys. Store policy innit.”

There’s a few seconds of absolute silence. Me and Tom look at each other confused. “Uhh come again? Josh, I’m not buying any of this cheaply made crap.”

“Huh. Well den.” Josh says with poisonous disapproval. “Time for a bit of refurbishing, ey.” He lurches forward and grabs my arm, there’s a mild prick on my skin as he holds something against me. I pull away from him and stumble backwards.

“Get away, freak.” I shout, pushing him away. He stares at me with an air of satisfaction, his mouth smirking widely. I look down and see a white label stitched on my forearm. ‘NIKE Slide - size 14.’ I shake my arm and tug on the fabric; it seems impossibly attached - like it’s just a part of my body.

“What the hell is that!?” Tom yells out, calling my name as he notices the tag.

I look back at Josh in shock, unsure of how to react. “Say it.” He instructs cryptically.

“What…whats—“ I lightly sway on the spot, feeling as though I was light as a feather.

“Say the fucking slogan. Slide.” And like that, I knew exactly what he meant. The words were desperate to escape my lips. It was like a sneeze, I could feel them coming up my throat.

“Just do it.” I say in a flat monotone voice, my body going limp.

“Too right. As you wish buttfucker.” He grabs my arm and scribbles a pen over the label stuck to me. He pulls away and I glance down at the fabric, my name and today’s date was now marked.

“Wha..” My legs were like jelly all of a sudden, it was hard to keep my footing.

My mouth opens to shout at him, but nothing comes out. Instead my lips solidify in place, stuck ajar. I stare at him in disbelief as my vision lowers further and further down until I’m looking straight up at the ceiling. My loose clothes lay in a pile beside me. I had no idea what had happened, not until Josh holds a small mirror over me and a fresh pristine white slide is reflected back. My ‘mouth’ was now a rigid material, pulled wide open, ready for a foot to enter. Fucking gross.

Worse still - I’m branded, quite literally as a big swoosh logo has been plastered over my new rubbery body, indented into the sole. Great. I’ve become a NIKE product. The brand I loathed, was now my entire being. My human form ‘refurbished’ into a bunch of cheap materials to be worn. That fact slowly sinks in.

I felt so small and insignificant, especially while Josh was towering over me. I could see the distinct outline of his giant dick bulging and obscuring my view…mmff.

“Oh shit. What the hell! How is this possible?! He—he’s a slide? Change him back now!” Tom panics, looking down at me in horror.

“Nah fam. But he’s no good on his own, is he? Your turn to get refurbed, dunce. Don’t lie, cum-slurper, you’re looking forward to sucking on a straight lads nasty feet. The humiliation giving you a stiffy? Go on. I’m sure you know the slogan too.” I helplessly watch as my gay best friend drains of colour within seconds, his mouth stretching ridiculously wide as his tongue pulls and flattens from his lips. A red NIKE swoosh is imbedded into his rubberising forehead. Tom’s human form compacts in on itself as if he was made of putty. He shrinks down next to me, landing on the ground with a dull thud.

“Oh sheeeit, yous look pretty mint as NIKE slides mate. Don’t worry, I’m make a deal, If no-one buys you by the end of the day, I’ll turn ya back.” Great, how kind. The employee kneels down and picks us up, lifting me like I was worthless and placing me on display. Taking my place on the empty shelf, ready to be bought and used. There was something comforting about having my friend rub against me, the chunky material touching my sensitive ‘body’. “Pricks.” Josh murmurs under his breath before leaving us there and walking off.

It quickly dawns on me that every trainer here used to be a person. Customers turned property. Stripped of humanity. ‘Refurbished’. All hopelessly waiting to be inevitably sold and have a dudes foul foot enter inside them. I don’t even want to imagine the smell. Having the dirt from their slimy soles rubbing against you for as long as they see fit to wear you. The thought was chilling.

I witness another guy attempting to steal from the store get turned into a bright purple football cleat and then thrown by Josh into a bargain bin. The pile is filled with an assortment of other mismatching cleats. It doesn’t take long before a older teen in a team jersey tries him on, pushing his dirty knee high sock into him. The lad strides up and down the shop, clacking across the tiled flooring. He happily buys the refurbished thief and has him boxed up along with a green cleat, completing the pair. Ready to use, stink like hell and get filthy during footie practice.

Hours pass, but it feels like an eternity. Me and Tom are completely debased as customers check us out - looking us over like we were nothing, before eventually returning us back to the shelf, where I now belonged. Until finally, it’s about time for the store to close. Thank god. I’m extremely relieved to have not been sold, I’m ready to forget this horror story ever happened. It’s certainly going to be an awkward conversation with Tom…

Josh’s mischievous face leans over me, like a death knell. “No takers ‘den. Noice. Oh, did I forget to tell ya? I’m size 14 bruv. And now you’re back in stock, I’ve just gotta cop you for myself, fuck yeah. You’ll look so sick on my huge cheesy feet, GOATED.”

No. Nooo! No, there’s no way, anyone but him. Not a dim chavs footwear! Please wake me up!

He carries us over to the till and rings us up, the cheap price reinforcing my lowly status. My whole existence now valued less than a few hours of minimum wage. Satisfied with his purchase, he grabs the pen again and writes ‘Josh’s propatee’ in an ineligible scrawl on my label. Great, just great. There was literally nothing I could do, completely powerless to his whims. Josh then carelessly drops us both to the floor and spits a gob of thick saliva down onto me. Grinning, he lifts his huge bare foot up, hovering threateningly above me.

“Looking fresh. Ye, not for long amirite, footmuchers.”

‘Just do it’ I think as the young chav slides his grimy sweaty foot down and into my mouth - it’s new home, turning me into his dutiful property. My new purpose. The taste on my tongue is like gargling on a week old sock. His warm pillowy sole squashes against my cushioned body, the shape of his salty toes forever imprinted into me. His musk soaks into my material, corrupting my fragile mind until it easily bends to his will. What initially smelled horrid quickly became addictive, it was foul, but it was so, so good. I loved how disgusting it was, how dirty it made me feel.

“These are fookin’ comfy man. Eat up, slides! Think I’ll wear you in, lets go for a walk. And then when we get home, i’m gonna watch porn and wank my thick spunk all over yeh. Sure yous dirty gay pervs would love nothing more.”

Mm, bet his straight alpha dick is fat as fuck, I think. My mind casually adopting my owner’s abrasive personality and immature attitude as I become a mere extension of his body. Become HIS. Wait, no! That sounded like a nightmare…didn’t it? Being used and abused by some horrible, homophobic chav. God. I don’t want to have his dirty dick brushing against me…his…superior….straight…seed…nutting….mmmm. My old identity was quickly dissolving under his weight, burning into foot stench and wafting away into the air. There was no ‘me’, no ‘Tom’ just NIKE slides. A nightmare? Nah, the fuck?Just fucking do it! Treat me like the filth I am. Squash and flatten me! Shove that big dong into me and fuck your pathetic slide good and propa ‘bruv’. It’s what we deserve. Betas like us belonged beneath you, under your powerful ALPHA feet.

“Getcha good and fucking rank, like a cheap pair of slides should be. If we’re lucky, you might last a couple of months before I’m done with you and toss you in the pile with the rest.”

Josh’s foot rises from the ground, his sole lifting up from me for a second before crashing back down, flattening me out. And then again as he exits the building, stomping me down onto hard concrete. The torture, disregard and humiliation gave me nothing but pleasure. I hated it, but I enjoyed hating it. Enjoyed the abject degradation.

It was time to serve masters giant smelly feet and absorb all his sweat. Whether we wanted to or not. He didn’t care, as was his right. It wouldn’t take long before I stunk just like his feet, permanently. Never cleaned, yellowed from overuse and an impression of his filthy feet marking me as his disposable property. GREAT! I was satisfied to be just another small part of his NIKE ensemble. His favourite brand. I help make Josh look so hot, and thats all I was good for. All I wanted, all I deserved.

A pair of disgusting, smelly slides serving and worshipping our -

STRAIGHT.

CHAV.

GOD.

Bro, come on, smile! Don’t you realize how lucky you are? Not only are we giving you the experience of becoming an Olympic athlete’s own speedo, we’re letting you choose which swimmer gets to own you! You should be happy! Now pick.

Thinking of going as buff and sexy green army man. Is there a costume fitting that idea in the store?

At Ease.

You find what you're looking for and try it on as you exitthe changing room you look amazing, all you need is the matching toy gun. As you take hold of it your body poses and suddenly you freeze in place. You're now a human size Army man. You try to speak but toy army men can't talk so you just stand there in the middle of the store aware of whats happening but unable to do anything about it. I have my employees move you out of the middle, you're part of our new display featuring Toy Story characters, you stand there looking around, you can tell the other "Toys" are conscious like you. Seems you aren't the only one trapped in this new plastic hell.