It all began with
a pair of twelve league boots. I couldnít resist them. The
stories say I stole them for a magical purpose, but it was
just having them that mattered: wearing them, holding them,
stroking them, sniffing them. An apprentice Prince Charming
is not supposed to have a shoe fetish, but I canít help myself.
Footwear is where itís at for me: the smoothness of the heel,
the round or pointyness of the toe, the odour of the gaping
opening where you insert your foot, pushing and wriggling as
you explore the unseen musty recesses with the soft underside
of your toesÖI could go on, but Iím not supposed to. Iím supposed
to be in rehab: cure and punishment combined (which offers
its own form of reward, but donít tell them that).
After the twelve
league boot debacle I tried out for Jack the Giant Killer (the
Beanstalk Years), but became so obsessed with the stalk top
view of the giantís wonderfully odorous feet bearing down on
me that I failed to run away, save the princess or kill the
giant. Another total failure.
The powers that
be in Fairytale Land sent me off on a quest in search of the
Sleeping Beauty. For a while I stayed on the straight and narrow:
found the castle in the wilderness, hacked through all that
unpleasant bramble, made my way up to the princess, was going
to kiss her; did kiss her, but just not on the mouth. She was
wearing the cutest pair of leather sky blue kitten heels and
I lost it completely. It was the back-up Prince Charming who
kissed her on the lips and won both her hand and the kingdom.
I would have been content with just her feet, but at least
I got to keep the shoes. Beauty wouldnít wear them again once
sheíd woken up and seen what I was doing with them.
The next tale they
lined up for me was Cinderella. Need I say more? I was in heaven.
Have you ever wondered
why there are so many different versions of the story: fur
slippers, glass slippers, toes cut off, feet crushed or cut
off or burned in red hot metal boots? I tried them all as we
did re-take after re-take, but all I ever fell in love with
were the slippers; sod whiney passive Cinderella. Even the
shoes her pug ugly sisters were sporting were a distraction.
I could have lived happily ever after in that story, but they
wanted the prince to get off with the girl, not her petite
foot wear. Another dream dashed.
It was then that
the Fairy Godmother turned me into a cat. She said it was for
my own good, cats not wearing shoes and all, but I know it
was simply out of spite because she caught me pissing in Cinderís
second best pair of crystal stilettos.
Iím not sure where
the story of the cat was supposed to lead, but I took it and
made it my own: Puss in Boots; the one, the only.
Oh, GodÖI can still
remember the feel of the leather, the aroma, the suppleness
and they were thigh length. Just imagine it!
The story became
a classic, but did I get thanked? Was my creativity even acknowledged?
No, siree. Oh sure, they kept the story, but they toned down
the fetish elements big time, changed the ending and took the
credit for themselves. Iíd had my day, but they made damn sure
that they hung on to things for posterity and I so loved those
So, whatís an out
of work, shoe loving cat to do? I pitched a cat/human reversal
and offered to do The Old Woman Who Lived in a Shoe as a tranny.
Heck, Iíd even have had a sex change for that gig, but the
powers that be werenít buying it. No way were they willing
to turn me back into a two footed, matched pair wearing human
and they had severe reservations about most other animal transformations.
In the end they came up with a fly: three pairs of feet and
not a shoe between them. They saw it as divine retribution
and an extended period of enforced abstinence simultaneously.
Still, Iíve had the last laugh. Fairytales and nursery rhymes
are endlessly adaptable. So hereís me, joyfully buzzing around
the smelliest of feet with impunity. Flap your hands and sing
that song, but you just canít stop me:
Shoe fly donít
Shoe fly donít bother me,
Shoe fly donít bother me
These shoes belong to somebody.
# # #
Shoe Fly by
published November 10, 2010