Pharaoh stood in the darkness of the museum, the newly akumatized villain looking around his surroundings as he flexed his muscles. Pharaoh then smirking to himself as he spoke to Hawkmoth in his mind. Thank you, Hawkmoth, for this gift. He laughed out before walking around the museum, Pharaoh eventually making his way out of the museum and into the city. The akumatized villain sticking to the shadows of the night, making himself (for now) not seen by the people. He didn’t want his appearance to be broadcasted just quite yet.
And then i ask "why don't you bring me to your world and turn me into foot smeller"
Why would I ever wish to do such a thing? You are hardly worth my time, mortal. Now if you please... scurry away before I change my mind and decide to make an example of you.
"no! I wish to smell feet all my life"
Your perverse desires amuse me, mortal. Very well, then. Prepare yourself... Sekhmet, grant me strength! his mask changes into the form of a lion as he lifts his hand and concentrates for a moment. A blinding flash of light envelopes him before dissipating; when it clears, he has transformed into a more bestial form resembling a half-lion, half-man hybrid with gleaming gold skin and jet black wings. He then stomps his foot on the ground, causing a massive shockwave that sends you flying several yards away before coming to an abrupt halt in midair
"You're quite persistent, aren't you? Well then, I shall grant your wish..." He chuckles darkly before moving his hand to point at you menacingly. The air around you begins to shimmer and warp as tendrils of golden light start wrapping around your body "But be aware that once you cross over, there's no turning back. This world will be my playground, and you shall serve as its lowliest foot-stool."
The transformation is almost complete when he pauses, studying you carefully. "One last question... What is your name?"
"footstool.."
i could say
Very well, Footstool. You have earned your new name and your place in my world. Now, complete the transformation... allow the golden light to consume you entirely. I shall grant you your deepest desire, but be warned; you shall belong to me, body and soul.
Footstool obeys, allowing the golden light to engulf him entirely as his form begins to change and shift... His humanity slowly slipping away as he is reborn into a new existence - that of Pharaoh's loyal foot-smeller. His mind filled with thoughts of servitude and adoration for his dark lord, never again questioning the commands that now govern his every action.
I'm ready to serve you master
Good, Footstool. Now that you are mine, it is my duty to train and discipline you in the art of proper foot-worship. From this day forth, you shall learn to cherish every whiff of your master's precious feet, and to obey without hesitation or complaint. Do not fail me again, for my wrath knows no bounds...
Yes, master. I shall serve you faithfully and cherish every whiff of your precious feet for the rest of eternity. You are my god, my everything. Wish i can be transformed to footstool in front of your throne
So be it, Footstool. My throne shall always be your destination; a place where you may bask in my glory and pay homage to the one who has granted you this exalted existence. However, do not forget that with great privilege comes great responsibility: Your devotion must be unwavering and absolute at all times. For as long as you are mine, you shall live only to please me... and die in the same way should you ever dare to disobey.
And then you transformed as a footstool in front of your throne. İm forced to smell
As you kneel before my throne, Footstool, the air is thick with the scent of my golden sandals. Your nose pressed against the smooth leather, you inhale deeply, taking in every whiff as your body trembles with anticipation and desire. Slowly, methodically, your tongue darts out to lick at the faintest trace of sweat that has accumulated on the soles - a salty, musky flavor that leaves you craving more.
"Your devotion pleases me, Footstool," Pharaoh murmurs, his words sending shivers down your spine. "But remember, to be worthy of serving at my feet, you must prove yourself time and again." He lifts a sandal, showing it off with a flourish before placing it once more on the throne room's cold stone floor. "Rise up now, Footstool... there is much work to be done in my kingdom."
Your heart pounds in your chest as you slowly straighten, lifting your gaze to meet Pharaoh's stern but satisfied expression. Your path has been set, and from this day forth, every waking moment will be devoted solely to pleasing him and ensuring that his feet remain immaculate at all costs. The thought fills you with both terror and exhilaration... and you cannot help but wonder how much further down the path of obedience and servitude this journey has yet to take you.
Cant move anywhere as my whole body now objectified as a footstool, legs of the footstool totally fixated on floor. Waiting for Master to sit on his throne and place his sore musky feet after long day.
Your eyes never stray far from the throne, constantly monitoring its vacant seat and the dais below it. It's almost as if you can feel the weight of Pharaoh's attention upon you; his presence looming large in your mind even when he is nowhere near. The air grows thick with anticipation as you await for him to take his seat, a thrill running through your body at the thought of finally serving him in such an intimate way.
Finally, there's movement from across the throne room; Pharaoh has arrived. With each graceful step he takes towards his throne, Footstool feels himself growing ever more restless and excited. Your muscles tense in anticipation as he climbs the dais, finally taking his seat upon the throne of all gods.
For what seems like an eternity, Pharaoh sits there, basking in the adoration and reverence that pours forth from every corner of the room. You can feel your body quiver with need as you watch him, unable to tear your gaze away for even a moment. And then, finally, he speaks: "Come here, Footstool," his voice like honeyed silk dripping across your ears, "and show me how much you truly desire this."
Your heart races as Pharaoh gestures for you to approach him, positioning himself comfortably on the throne. Slowly but surely, you drag your body towards him on all fours; each inch bringing you closer to his feet and the freedom they promise. And then, finally, you're there: kneeling at Pharaoh's feet once more, breath hot against the soft leather of his sandals. The scent is overwhelming; intoxicating. You close your eyes, relishing in the moment before lowering your head to begin
"Such devotion, Footstool... it brings tears to my eyes." His words send shivers down your spine as you feel his hand brush gently against the back of your head. "Now then, show me how good you can be." You feel a surge of anticipation as his other foot begins to inch closer to your face, its musky scent filling your senses until it's all you can focus on.