FRATERNITY COUCH, PART IV
This is a gay erotic story involving two adults. This chapter includes forced bondage, foot play, and raunch. If you are underage, do not read this!
I could see Nick weighing the pros and cons of the situation. After about thirty seconds of silent contemplation, his face lit up and he looked over at Brandon. "Well, I'm not sure about the fart thing. I don't wanna crush him and hurt him or anything. But it could be fun to make him smell my sweaty socks and rank feet and see if he can handle it. I had a long day at work today and I know they are always pretty foul when I get off. Probably almost as bad as your farts, I bet."
"That's the spirit, bro. Why don't you put your feet up and take a load off?"
It was at this moment that I knew I wasn't going to be getting out of this couch and away from this torture any time soon.
I could see out of the corner of my eye as Nick bent down and began untying his work shoes. I have to admit, Nick was the kind of guy that I thought was hot. He was quite a bit taller than Brandon, probably about 6'4" with buzzed hair and looked like he had a big, solid build. Brandon was more lean, toned muscle, whereas Nick just looked like he had a naturally huge build. I have a thing for bigger guys, so even though they both looked different, I thought they were both physically very attractive.
The attractiveness definitely went down once his first shoe came off, and I was already able to smell his feet even though they were down on the floor. Brandon, who was standing a few feet away, apparently was able to smell them too.
"Fuck dude, what is wrong with your feet?"
Nick laughed and replied, "Sorry man, I told you they get pretty rank. I guess it's kind of my fault - I only own two pairs of black socks, so I end up wearing them a few times before I wash them. Usually I take `em off and jump in the shower when I get home, so it doesn't bug me much."
Brandon was walking away from the smell, which was beginning to fill the entire room as Nick took off his other shoe. "How long have you been wearing those fuckers? That smells inhuman!"
"Umm, well tomorrow is my laundry day, so I guess probably about six days or so? I don't really keep track. I kinda just grab whatever is on the floor by my shoes."
Brandon was clearly not enjoying this powerful odor. "I'm gonna go grab a beer and chill in the kitchen, I don't want to smell this shit," he said as he left the room while using his hand to cover his nose.
Nick looked down at me with a somewhat sympathetic look on his face. "Dude, are you sure this is gonna be okay? I mean, we can all smell my feet and they are down on the floor. If you feel like you're gonna get sick or something, just tell me, okay?"
He obviously wasn't thinking about the fact that my mouth was taped shut, so even if I wanted to say something, I couldn't. Nick is hot, but clearly not the brightest bulb in the box. I watched as he moved back toward the arm of the couch and brought both of his feet up on the couch.
"Here you go dude! Who knows, maybe if you really are a fag like Brandon says, you'll get off on stuff like this."
I watched helplessly as Nick's socked feet came down and covered my entire face. I could instantly feel the dampness of his socks as my vision was blacked out by his massive feet. I couldn't see anything, but I could feel his feet completely covering me. They must have been a size 13 at least.
"Aah, that feels much better! My dogs have been killing me all day! It feels great to put my feet up."
I tried my best to hold my breath for a while, but of course, I inevitably ended up having to take in a big sniff of Nick's sweaty socks. I thought they were bad when they were down on the floor, but taking a huge whiff of his unwashed work socks right up close was ungodly. After the first inhale, my eyes already started to water and I started yelling into my tape so that Nick would hear that I couldn't handle it. This might actually be worse than Brandon's farts!
Nick must have heard me screaming into the gag. "Dude, you're already wanting out? It hasn't even been a minute. Sorry man, I thought I wouldn't want to keep you down there if you hated it, but this is relaxing and feels so good. I'm gonna use your nose to massage my feet!"
With that, Nick started pushing down against my face, pressing hard against my nose to ease his sore foot muscles. My nose was being smushed with his massive feet as he slowly moved them back and forth across my face. Every time I took a breath in, I was fully assaulted with his nasty foot odor. It smelled like some kind of nasty cheese; clearly, when he told Brandon he didn't wash his socks, he wasn't lying. It really smelled like he didn't wash his feet much, either. Typical straight man.
I heard Brandon come back in the room, and he laughed seeing what Nick was doing to me. "Nick, I see you've found a new use for the fag's face! How's his face working as a massager?"
Nick replied, "It's alright man, but I think a little more pressure would help things out."
Brandon came over to the couch and quickly sat down on top of Nick's feet, and as a result, my face. Now I was totally smashed underneath Brandon's ass and Nick's feet with absolutely no room to move. Thankfully, Brandon was clothed again so it was just his gym shorts I saw above the feet, not his bare ass. "Okay man, now you should have the pressure you need. Now slide your feet back and forth."
Nick began to move his feet under Brandon's weight and his plan was working – his feet were now being pressed really hard against my nose, and I heard Nick moaning with pleasure. This extra pressure must have helped make it so my nose was pressing right into the sore spots, helping ease his pain. It was almost impossible for me to breathe underneath all that weight and through Nick's big feet, so it was a struggle for me to get any air at all. I did manage to get in a short breath every 30 seconds or so, which was of course nothing but tainted air that reeked of Nick's nasty socks and feet.
"Dude, spread your feet apart!" Brandon said. Nick complied and spread his feet apart toward my forehead and chin, making it so Brandon's ass slipped through the middle against my nose. I felt him tense up, and then a silent, warm, long burst of air came out of his ass and blew against my face. It must have lasted about 10 seconds straight. I was instantly assaulted with the overwhelming smell of rotten eggs. This definitely made it clear the beer and deviled eggs were hitting his system.
The fart must not have been audible from a distance, because I heard Nick ask Brandon what he was doing. Brandon didn't reply, but rather just sat there until the smell wandered over to Nick. I felt Nick's feet lift off my face as Brandon started laughing hysterically. Nick quickly got up off the couch and moved across the room.
"Brandon, what the fuck? That shit is disgusting! You have to warn me when you're doing that! I don't want to smell your dirty ass! I'm not into your stink like that fag is!"
Brandon continued to laugh as he stayed sitting on my face, making me smell his nasty egg fart right at the source. "Hey, I had to smell your rank feet when you took off your shoes! Fair is fair!"
Brandon slowly got up as the smell dissipated and then turned around to face me. I saw him looking down at me, probably seeing the look of fear in my eyes. At this point, I didn't know what kind of disgusting things these two would come up with, but clearly they were enjoying being creative and coming up with new ways to make me suffer as the night went on.
Brandon's eyes lit up and he looked over at Nick. "So you said tomorrow is laundry night? You know, the fag here has been really useful – fart sniffer, piss drinker, foot massager – you think he'd make a good washing machine too?"
Not surprisingly, Nick didn't follow. "What do you mean?"
"He's got a mouth there that isn't being used right now. Why don't we make him suck your socks clean so you don't have to wash them? I'm sure the fag won't mind. He'll probably even like tasting the sweat from a real man's foot anyway. Then you can keep using his nose to rub your feet like you like."
Nick started laughing. "Dude, you come up with some nasty shit. This is pretty fun though. Let's do it!"
Brandon grabbed the scissors he used earlier to cut the tape open when he pissed and cut open the tape again.
I tried to talk to Brandon, but could barely get anything out of my mouth since I hadn't talked in hours. "Bran..don.. I.. I'm sorry.. I.."
My sentence was abruptly cut short when Brandon hit me hard in the face. This one was harder than the last hit; I am sure that it was going to leave a mark. He looked straight into my eyes and I could see the hate and anger in them. "You fucking faggot, what did I tell you earlier? You do not talk to me or I'm going to beat the fucking shit out of you. Me cutting the tape off doesn't mean that you get to talk. That means I get to use your mouth. You'd better learn your fucking place, or else I swear to God, I'm going to leave you in this fucking couch for the rest of your pathetic life."
At this point, I was crying not only from the pain of Brandon's punch to my face, but also from being talked down to by Brandon. And to think that he acted to nice to me in English class. I never knew that anyone could be this truly mean toward another person and get so much pleasure from it.
Nick came over to the couch and stood on one foot while he peeled off one of his socks. He stuck it up to his face to take a sniff, and pulled it away immediately. "Holy shit, this is terrible. I really need to buy some more black socks. Oh well, guess it's gonna get cleaned anyway."
Brandon stared into my eyes and commanded me to open my mouth. "Faggot, open that mouth as wide as you can or I'm going to punch you and break all of your fucking teeth out! And don't think I won't do it."
I've become terrified of Brandon and his random physical outlashes, so I know now it's best to just listen to him and not argue. I opened my mouth as wide as I could, then closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable to happen. I felt the damp fabric of Nick's sock touch my tongue, then felt as the entire sock was forcefully shoved into my mouth. I then heard the roll of duck tape being stretched and torn, then felt tape placed over my mouth. Brandon then said, "This is so you won't even think about spitting it out until we've decided it's clean."
The taste of this sock was unreal. It was probably the nastiest thing I've ever had in my mouth. It was disgusting when I felt my tongue touching the sweaty socks that Nick had been wearing to work all week, knowing that my saliva was helping break up all the dried funk and foot crud that was on them. Just when I thought things couldn't get worse, I felt Nick sit back down on the couch and put his feet back up.
"That foot massage from earlier felt nice man. I think I'm gonna go ahead and let him use his nose to massage my foot now that the sock won't get in the way."
With that said, Nick put his now bare foot across my face and started rubbing it back and forth across my nose. He stopped after a few seconds and spread the webbing between his big toe and second toe across my nose. "Alright washer, take a big sniff now. I want you to smell the gunk between my toes. I think that's what's making everything smell so bad."
Knowing Brandon was likely watching and I didn't want to get hit again, I listened and took a big whiff. Nick was right – the webbing between his toes had a really strong cheesy smell like his socks, only magnified. This was certainly the source of the odor, and also the taste I had going on in my mouth right now as I sucked on his rank work socks. Does this guy not use soap on his feet?
This went on for a good 20 minutes or so – me sucking on his socks, Nick using my nose to massage his feet, and him commanding me to sniff whenever he spread his toe webbing across my nose. Eventually, the sock in my mouth started to dry things out, and I wasn't really able to taste his sock so much anymore. I was having trouble producing spit with the big sock filling up my entire mouth and absorbing all of my saliva. Once the 20 minutes were up, I saw Brandon come back into my vision.
"Looks like the fag has learned not to complain about things – I haven't heard a peep from him in a while. Let's let him clean up that other sock for you."
Brandon quickly cut off the tape, removed the rank and now "clean" sock, stuffed Nick's other sock back in my dried out mouth, then taped it shut. I had about another 20 minutes of massaging Nick's other dirty foot with my nose, smelling between his toes, and hearing him moaning with pleasure.
Once the time passed, Brandon came and removed the tape and the sock from my mouth. He must have noticed that it was considerably drier than the first one, mostly because I wasn't producing as much saliva as I did when the first sock was filling my mouth. He looked down angrily at me. "Hey! Why is this sock not clean? What kind of washer are you? We treat a faggot like you to a dirty sock from a real man like Nick, and you don't even have the courtesy to clean it for him? Fucking worthless."
Brandon spit in my face and shook his head. I was about to tell Brandon that my mouth was dry, but I remembered what happened last time I tried to talk. I opened my mouth and looked at him, hoping he would figure out what I was trying to say. He looked down at me, saw my open mouth, and must have sorted it out.
"Ah, Nick, I think the washer is dried up! Maybe we need to give him something to drink so it can work again."
I heard Brandon go off into the kitchen and run the sink. Finally, he was feeling a little bit of mercy and was going to give me some water, even if the whole goal was just to make it so that I could clean Nick's sock for him.
"Here we go, a nice, tall glass of water!" Brandon said as he came back into the living room with a glass of water. He stood over my face with it, looked at Nick, and said, "Hmm, it looks a little plain for our fag, doesn't it?"
Nick replied, "Yeah, it just looks like regular water. I bet he'd like something a little more... refreshing."
With that, Brandon grabbed Nick's sock that was dry from my mouth and promptly pushed it fully into the glass of water. I realized at this point that this was most definitely turning into another new torture – this was certainly not going to be an act of mercy. I watched as the water started to become less and less clear. It must have been all the sweat and toe funk that collected in the sock being washed out. Brandon worked Nick's sock out of the water, wrung it out into the glass, and then laughed at the now highly discolored water. There were visible pieces of fuzz floating in it, and it had a yellowish tint. I heard Brandon hawk up some gunk from his throat and spit it into the glass. I could see Brandon's smile as he moved the glass down near my mouth.
"A special drink for a special little guy! Open up!"
Hesitantly, I opened my mouth and watched as he poured the disgusting concoction in. He poured it in fast enough where I couldn't really taste it and just had to swallow it down, but I felt some of the sock fuzz and lint hit my tongue as it entered my mouth, and felt the thickness of his loogie when it touched my tongue. The texture was slimy and disgusting.
Nick spoke up. "Man, that's so nasty! I know how bad those socks smelled, and he's basically drinking the stink down. It's gross, but kinda hot making him do it since he doesn't have a choice."
Brandon tipped the glass the rest of the way until it had all gone down my throat. "All done! Dude, he still looks parched, doesn't he? Let me go grab some stuff from upstairs."
He left the room as I sat there with Nick looking down at me. He didn't say anything, but I could tell that his demeanor was changing. At first he seemed like he was afraid of doing anything degrading or mean to me, but now he had this look of pleasure on his face. A small smirk formed across his mouth before he hawked up some phlegm from his throat like Brandon did with the sock water. I looked up at him as he let a long string of spit and snot slowly drip from his mouth onto my poor, trapped face. As I felt the loogie side down my nose and coat my cheek with a trail of his spit and snot, I knew Brandon had converted him over and that neither of them would be showing me any mercy.
Brandon showed back up in the living room, and I saw him carrying a funnel, the roll of duck tape, and a pair of really dirty white ankle socks (well, they used to be white, at least). What kind of nasty idea did he have up his sleeve?
[Hopefully everyone liked this new chapter, even though it's almost two years later! I got motivation from a hot guy I met from California who encouraged me to write more. Let me know if you have comments about this chapter or more suggestions! phonebook715@yahoo.com]