[goon-bate]

The cabin lights had been dimmed for hours, turning the overnight flight into a hazy, half-asleep cocoon. I sat wedged in the window seat next to him — this cocky, muscular college jock in a tight black tank top and backward cap, arms thick and hairy, pits glistening with sweat. My husband was three rows back, happily snoring in his middle seat, still glowing from our wedding two days ago. I’d promised myself this honeymoon would be different. Faithful. Normal.

But then the jock stretched, arms locked behind his head, and the wave hit me: raw, rank, masculine musk rolling off his sweaty body like heat from an engine. My stomach twisted in horror. *God, he reeks. How does someone smell that strong after hours in recycled air?* I tried to focus on my phone, cheeks burning, but my eyes kept drifting — over the dark hair matted across his broad chest, the way his tank clung to his damp skin, the lazy, arrogant smirk when he caught me looking.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just flexed a little, letting more of that thick, sour scent fill the space between us. My cock betrayed me before my brain did, twitching hard in my pants. I hated it. I was married. Newly married. This was disgusting.

Yet twenty minutes later, when the plane hit a quiet stretch and most lights were out, he shifted closer. His big thigh pressed against mine. “You’ve been staring, fag,” he whispered, voice low and cocky. “Bet that ring on your finger feels real tight right now.”

I opened my mouth to deny it, but nothing came out. His scent was overwhelming now — salty, musky, unwashed jock funk that made my head spin. He casually lifted one arm, resting it behind his head again, and the pit stench washed over me stronger. My resistance crumbled like wet paper.

Slowly, shamefully, I leaned in. My heart hammered as I buried my face against his sweaty side, inhaling like a desperate animal. He chuckled quietly. “That’s it. Sniff your new owner.”

My hands trembled as I pulled his waistband down just enough. His thick, heavy cock sprang out, already half-hard and smelling even stronger — pure rank alpha dick. I hesitated one last second, thinking of my husband sleeping just rows away… then I opened my mouth and took him in.

He was thick, salty, and still sweaty from the flight. I gagged quietly as he grew fully hard down my throat, but I didn’t stop. I sucked him like a pathetic, skinny married slut, head bobbing low in his lap while he kept his arms casually behind his head, pretending to sleep. Every few seconds he’d push my head down further, forcing my nose into his sweaty pubes.

“You’re such a disgusting little faggot,” he breathed, barely audible. “Honeymooning with your husband and choking on college cock ten thousand feet up. Keep going, dumpster.”

Tears pricked my eyes from the shame and the stretch, but my own dick was leaking in my pants. The horror had melted into pure, humiliating need. I wanted to be his seat-side cumrag. His rank, sweaty alpha toilet.

When he finally came, it was thick and bitter, flooding my mouth in heavy ropes. I swallowed every drop like the broken married bitch I’d become, licking him clean while his musk soaked into my skin and clothes.

He patted my flushed cheek condescendingly, zipped up, and went back to relaxing like nothing happened.

I sat there the rest of the flight, lips swollen, throat coated in his load, the taste and smell of him lingering as I stared at my wedding ring. My husband would never know… but I already belonged to this sweaty, domineering jock now.

And the worst part? I couldn’t wait for him to use me again. As me and my husband strolled to the town for some night out two days after we arrived from the flight, I realized the jock is in the table behind us already looking at me with his predatorial smirk, a girl seated in front of him clearly as unaware as my husband about this dynamic and how I've been monitored like a prey......

[fagwitch13]

The Bear's 4th of July Party

Master had spent all of Pride month, or as he calls it Shame month training me to accept my place. I couldn't keep arguing and finally gave in, he's had me caged and plugged ever since. Today was the 4th and Master has a big celebration planned, he is going to show my progress to all my neighbors....I can't wait for them to see how much of a fag he's turned me into.

As I walked outside bringing him a fresh cold beer, I could hear my neighbors who once found me respectful if a little too woke snicker and laugh at my pink miniskirt just long enough to cover my cage

"Here you go Sir! The party is turning out great, good thing you had me buy extra flags hehe" I say with a mindless smile

"Of course Libtard, this is what 'Pride' should really be. Pride in our country! In our power over the weak like you! All the bros around here have been telling me how happy they are you finally got tamed, apparently they have been sick of your stupid gay crap too. We thinking about doing poker nights so they can enjoy your services." He says after letting out a deep laugh, pulling me into his hairy chest letting me get a wiff of pits.

I didn't care how pathetic I looked as his musk covered me, It made me realize he was right...he was always right..

[mastersfootrest]

Jack’s Army Feet

My parents, though really my dad, made me join the army a few months ago to try and give some direction in my life, and, as my dad put it, “make a man out of me.” The life drained out of my face when they first told me they submitted an application and went through the process all on their own. What the fuck did they mean I was going to join the fucking army? I was a skinny guy who mostly just liked playing video games and jerking off to porn occasionally. Over the past few years I’d come to terms with likely being gay; though honestly, I often didn’t picture any guys when I got off. More so what attracted me than looks was dependability, maturity, and strength. And while women could have all these traits, there was something about envisioning them in a guy that made me feel more warm inside. I felt more secure. I would often jerk off more to the idea of living a life with a man who made me feel secure and a life where we could both rely on each other than necessarily thinking about his cock or ass… so that was still to be explored.

But now with this new development, it felt like really coming to understand myself better would be halted. I practically had a meltdown that night and the only thing that calmed me down was when they told me it could be a few months before they had me physically live on the base. Though that reassurance was cheap, it was enough to stop me from continuing to have a nervous break down. I spent the rest of those months trying to enjoy my freedom as much as I could and researching what the fuck they’d gotten me into.

The time between joining and moving in here passed in the blink of an eye and having been here for a few months now, I was pleasantly surprised to find my research proved correct. It seemed nowadays joining the army was much less like the movies with all that ridiculous living in a shed with 40 people and constantly doing insane training montages. They still had us working out, and they still tried to break us down and mold us into these obedient machines. But, we at least got our own rooms… mostly. Instead of living in a giant shed with 40 people, we basically lived in studio apartments with a roommate. Unfortunately, my roommate, Jack, was a little bit of an ass. But another bonus was we did have a lot more freedom than I expected. Although I couldn’t spend my free time in my room because I tried avoid Jack, I at least kept my laptop on the base with me and would take it to a local library where I’d play my computer games in my downtime.

That was what I planned to do this evening; however, my base had other plans. They enacted a curfew after a few of the guys got a little too drunk and up to no good. The person enforcing that regulation made it clear they were planning to keep it that way for at least a few weeks.

“Fuck.” I muttered under my breath as I walked back to my room. I was dreading having to actually exist in the same space as Jack for any longer than necessary. He was basically the exact opposite of the type of guy’s I fantasized about. He was immature, unserious, unreliable, and unpredictable. There was basically a line across our room where you saw whose space was where. And my space was constantly gradually decreasing because Jack persisted in leaving his clothes unwashed. They occasionally did room checks and while Jack always failed and would get yelled at, they would rope me into it for some reason. They’d say that I should be more supportive and help him as if he was a fucking child. Wasn’t the whole reason I was thrown into this because my parents believed I needed to be whipped into shape? Why was it now my job to either whip someone else into shape or baby them?

In spite of myself, every month we had a room check, and for the three months I’d been here now, every single time I cleaned up the entire room. And every single time, without fail, Jack would make some snide remark about being a “good little bitch” or how he was “so glad I realized my duty here.” It infuriated me to no end.

Despite his horrible organization, Jack was fit and strong. He was readily at the top of the class in terms of training, and so it really seemed like they favored him and overlooked his faults for that reason. Whereas I was left to pick up after him because I was the inverse: maintaining everything orderly, but struggling to do any physical labor.

I sighed as I entered the room and already saw Jack lying on his bed, picking between his toes as he scrolled on his phone. “‘Sup Quent. This fucking sucks, right? I could be out hooking up with a chick in a bar and instead I have to be stuck here doing fuck all.”

I rolled my eyes as I sat down at my desk and opened my computer, getting ready to pull up a game. “Yeah, terrible.” I feigned sympathetically. I scrolled through my library trying to zone Jack out when I felt his hands grab my shoulders and spin me around.

“Cooooooooome oooooooon. We have to do something together. You can’t let me just rot here alone.” Jack whined, which I was gathering he was real good at and probably did often back at home. However, he wasn’t fooling me. He was an asshole. He constantly left work for me to do, he’d be degrading when I was forced to do it, and I’ve seen the way he’s talked about the women he dates like they’re objects and dispensable. Jack was, for better or worse, undeniably an attractive guy. Again, not really one to care about looks, it didn’t affect me much. But he had women drooling to be with him, and he was constantly making them do shit for him. Needless to stay, I did not want to be the continued victim of being used for his needs any more than this place forced.

“I’d really rather just play a game.” I asserted as forcefully as I could.

“Then let’s play something together,” Jack pleaded. “You know I’ve told you I have a PS5 back home. I’m just waiting to buy a TV so I can use it.”

“They make us work. We’ve gotten paid for that. It may not be much since we have free housing and food, but it’s been at least enough for a TV,” I argued, trying to turn my chair back around.

Jack gripped the arm rest and held it down, though, spitting, “We’re gonna fucking do something. I don’t give a shit if it’s a game. I tried to be nice, but I’m not a fucking pansy. I’ll take what I want if I have to.” Suddenly his arm was around my neck and he threw me to the ground.

“Ow!” I shouted on my knees, crawling away from him a little before turning around. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Having some fun!” Jack exclaimed as if that clarified anything. His arms were outstretched and as I maneuvered around on the ground trying to get back to my laptop, he mimicked the direction I went and cut me off from it. Suddenly he was on the ground on top of me. I tried to crawl backwards to get away, but Jack was faster and grabbed my arms, pinning me down.

“Jack, stop!” I whisper-yelled, trying not to make too much noise as I struggled to break free. It was clear, however, that his dominant strength was winning out. I was simply too much smaller and weaker than he was.

“What? Come on, just think of this as more training! You gotta be able to get out from underneath me. What happens if you get into a fight and are pinned down? You just gonna let them fuckin’ beat the shit out of you and kill you?”

“What are you talking about?” I bit back, growing increasingly frustrated the longer I was underneath him. “I’m not gonna get into a fight with anyone! I’m not an asshole like you!”

“Really?! ‘Cause your nice ‘ol roommate just tried to play a game with you and you certainly seemed like an asshole then!” “Nice!?” I preposterously shouted, “you’re the furthest fucking thing from nice! Now get off… of… me!” My body wriggled and I could feel it start to loosen from underneath his grip. I didn’t give a shit if I’d get yelled at, I was leaving this damn room!

“Fine, you want mean Jack? You want me to be a bully? I’ll show you what that looks like pansy!” Just as I was beginning to slip from underneath him, Jack readjusted. His feet went between my legs, stretching over them so his knees were just below my waist, weighing down my own legs. Then, he unexpectedly let go of one of my arms. However, it was for a split second, and I was too caught off guard by the change to take advantage of it. Within a second, he descended on me, his sleeve riding up his arm until his pit was exposed. Before I could tell what was happening my face was in his armpit. “Come on, faggot, take a big ‘ol whiff!”

“Mmmmueeghh” I groaned beneath Jack. I could feel the sweat that had built up smearing against my face and dripping into my mouth as I cried out. I fought back vigorously. However, the edge I had earlier had been lost, and I was struggling to budge an inch. Worn out and tired, and with my mouth firmly pressed inside of his put, I had no choice but to take sharp inhales of stench.

“Thaaaaaat’s it. Stop trying to fight it, bitch boy. How does it fucking smell in there?”

With my mouth unable to open, the best I could muster in response was a muffled, “Shmmmminnn.” My response inadvertently forced me to fully exhale. Between the lightheadedness from exerting myself and from the scent of his disgusting pits, I was feeling weak and helpless. All I could do was keep breathing in the acidic scent.

My head spun in circles as I desperately clung to consciousness. My breathing had hiked before sharply slowing down as my vision tunneled. Finally, I felt the pressure from Jack’s body pinning me down lighten as he rose up.

“Come on, man, I’m giving you a chance now.” Jack laughed to himself, rising from the ground. “You can get up and try to take me down now.” He partially squatted and patted his thighs, taunting me. “Come on, you gotta get me, otherwise it’ll be tooooo easy for me to keep winning, and there’s noooo way I’d want that.” His shit eating grin gave away his true feelings, he had something more planned, especially if I couldn’t get up.

I groaned in pain from my spinning head and tried to move my body but couldn’t. All I could do was tightly shut my eyes.

“Oh boy, you’re running out of time,” Jack continued as I heard his foot steps re-approach me.

“Jack…” I tried to muffle out, feeling a disconnect between my brain and the rest of my body.

“Ah, ah, ah, you gotta get up and take me down.” I could hear additional movement as Jack continued to move around. “Come on, just gotta put up a little bit of a fight, man. You can do that, right?” I willed my body to move, to at least maneuver my head, but still nothing happened. Finally I opened my eyes and as the world slowly kaleidoscoped into focus, I saw a tall pink mountain slowly descend upon my face.

“Since you loved my pits so much, I have another treat for you,” Jack could barely stifle his own laughter. “But only if you can’t find it in yourself to move. Otherwise, you must want me to pin that little face of yours under my feet, riiiight?”

With my world now focused I began to catch that rancid scent of his bare foot. Compared to his pit it was lot more cheesy and foul than a burning acidic scent. That’s right… training earlier had involved a lot of running. Fuck… I… I needed to move. I willed my head to move, to the left, to the right. Anywhere, I needed to do anything to avoid this. I felt the atmosphere of his foot, as if the sweat from it somehow hung in the space around his foot, engulf my face. My eyes rolled to the back and somewhere deep inside me I knew movement had become impossible by that point, even as my mind desperately screamed to move.

As the slick sweat finally pressed into my face, I no longer wanted to fight against my consciousness. I wanted that darkness to take over and relieve me from this… But pray as I might now for unconsciousness to take me, somehow it was now escaping. Powerless and weak, I lied on the floor as Jack smeared his disgusting, wet, dank foot across my face. “Haha, that’s right, faggot.” Jack taunted, “That’s what a real man smells like. I know your pansy ass wouldn’t know shit about that, but take it fucking in. Enjoy it. This is as close to being a man as you’ll ever fucking be, just breathing in my ripe ass feet.”

His words swam in my head as it pounded against the raw, cheesy stink. What the fuck was he talking about? His foot sweat was a sign he was a real man? There’s no way that was true… I don’t know why but him saying that tugged at something in my brain.

In trying to understand my sexuality, I always found myself drawn to composed, strong men. Dependable, reliable. Hardworking. This is what I envisioned “true men” being, I suppose. And Jack was strong and maybe hardworking at the gym, but he was so vastly different than what I ever imagined a “true man” to be. But… if they were hardworking, I suppose they might get a little sweaty, would that mean their feet stink… like this? Why did that even matter? That’s the part I couldn’t understand or shake. Even if there was some logic that could make that make sense, why the hell was it so stuck in my head. This is what a real man smells like, that phrase just bounced around endlessly. 

At some point, Jack lifted his dank foot from my face, and grinned down at me. “So what is gonna happen next is that I’m gonna play some shit on your computer and you’re gonna be a good, quiet little fag and let me, got it?” Still overwhelmed by everything that happened, I couldn’t bring myself to answer. This only seemed to please Jack, however, perhaps content with his ability to break me down. “I’ll take your silence as obedience,” he said standing up, “That’s a good faggot. See how easy it is when you just do what I say?” He tapped my face one last time with his bare foot before turning around and sitting at my desk.

I could hear him messing around with the computer before I heard the familiar sound of one of the games starting up. As he got comfortable, I slowly brought my mind back into focus and finally found the strength to move. Groaning, I crawled to my knees before wobbling on my feet and walked out of the room. I ambled to a bathroom and sat down in one of the stalls, cupping my face in my hands as I tried to process what the fuck just happened. As I sat there, I could still pick up faint traces of his foot stink clinging to my face, lightly spinning my head. Exhausted I went back to my room and crawled into bed, covering my head with a blanket until I fell asleep. The entire time, continuing to breath in the foot stench that clung to my face as his words replayed in my head.

-

The next few days I did everything I could to avoid Jack. I just let him have free rein of my computer because I did not want to fight him again. I was constantly on edge, expecting him to do something similar despite my obedience. He’d be sitting at my desk, angrily tapping his feet as he struggled in one of the games, and with every tap a vivid image of him forcing me underneath the desk and instead tapping his foot against my face would flash across my mind. It made me deeply uncomfortable on the surface level simply because it was a disgusting and mean thing to do, but also because his words felt burned into my mind. That was the smell of a real man. For some reason that thought wouldn’t get out of my head. 

It didn’t help either as the days passed and we continued to engage in rigorous training, one night I felt this gnawing curiosity that I tried to resist as much as I could. But after Jack left to take a shower, I couldn’t resist it any longer. I grabbed my own shoes and tried to smell them. Whatever I was thinking was clearly flawed, but I think I was figuring that if my feet smelled like his then it would disprove whatever he tried to assert— that I was as much a man as him. I’d never paid much attention to the smell of my own feet, I suppose because it was simply something I never thought would be relevant, but now it seemed that perhaps there was another reason. After trying to taking a light whiff I found that there was very little scent at all. Despite us doing the same training, the same workouts, there was something about his feet that made them reek like that. Because he’s a real man. That thought forced its way into my psyche and suddenly I felt another scratching urge.

I glanced over at the door. It had only been a few minutes… I quietly snuck over to his bed, as if I was trying to hide from someone not even here. Letting go of all inhibition I pulled the trigger, quickly grabbing a boot of his and raising it to my face. Immediately I was met by the same pungent stench that had engulfed me just a few days prior. Shaking, I continued to hold the boot at my face as I took deeper and deeper inhales. This is a real man’s smell? Jack is a real man? I… I don’t know what I want, but I thought I might want a real man… That would mean I want Jack? That’s not possible… Is it?

I heard some footsteps outside and quickly dropped the boot and ran back to my bed. After a minute, Jack walked into the room. Right as he did, I noticed the straining sensation in my pants and quickly threw my blanket over my hard on, praying he didn’t notice. As I looked back up, I saw Jack staring at his phone as he sauntered over to his bed. As soon as he walked past me, I got up and grabbed my own toiletries and clothes and went to take a cold shower myself. My face was burning red as I went out the door.

-

As more and more days passed until about two weeks since the incident with Jack, I still couldn’t take my mind off the experience. I noticed that I started paying attention to the feet of other guys in our unit, especially those who seemed more mature, and wondering whether their feet reeked like Jack’s. They must, I absentmindedly thought that day, I mean, there’s no way Keith and Darius aren’t real men being as dependable as they are, so their feet must reek too after all this training. As these thoughts sifted through my mind, I felt more and more out of place. I really did feel like a boy amongst men. Jack had so easily overpowered me that day, and there was no doubt in my mind that any of these other guys could do the same. At the same time, it felt easier and easier to see Jack as what I had thought a “real man” was. 

Once we were back in our rooms, I tried to busy myself on my phone and reading a book for most of the day. At some point Jack left the room, and perhaps it was due to these salient thoughts that after a while I made my way to my laptop. Jack hadn’t been as interested in it today, so I booted it up and found myself typing out the thoughts that have been eating away at my mind for the last two weeks. “Do real men’s feet stink?” It felt a little silly googling this question, but nevertheless I hit enter and was met by some unexpected search results.

The first few were about what I expected without really answering the question: a reddit page on someone asking why their feet stink so much and how to solve that, a quora thread on someone asking for help with their husband’s smelly feet. It wasn’t until I scrolled down that I got different results. On what appeared to be a gay porn website it had the title “Twink worships alpha males feet,” then below that was another link to a different gay porn site with the video title of “time to serve a real man faggot.”

Gradually, my heart started to speed up as I read through these titles. I felt a lump in my throat as I click the link to the second website. I turned down the volume and played the video. After a few seconds it cut to a POV from on the ground as a guy stretched his feet toward the camera. He started talking very confidently with a strong, deep voice praising the viewer for being a good “fag” for knowing their place. This man stretched and flexed his toes in the frame as he continued on about how real men deserve to have weak, pretty little boys on the ground beneath them. He said how faggots were inherently weaker and needed a strong man to take control, to assert their power; and how naturally a fag found solace in giving himself up to a real man.

I knew he was talking to the camera and not anybody in specific, but it felt like he was talking to me. Something about the tone of his voice and his words felt like he saying them specifically to me. And his words sounded just like Jack’s.

Suddenly I heard footsteps at the door and I swiftly closed my laptop, cutting the sound. Jack then walked in, hair dampened and sweat glistening on his arms and face. He walked over to his bed and grabbed a towel to wipe off his face before lying on his bed. I could hear him groan, seemingly out of exhaustion as he left the towel lying over his face.

As Jack lied there, my eyes slid down until they rested on his boots. Inside were the sure-to-be-sweaty assailants from the previous week. Taking quiet but deep breaths, I could faintly smell some of his stench from here. I quickly turned around and buried my face in a hand. What the hell do I care about his feet for? How does that make him a man? Despite these questions, the words of the faceless man in the video echoed in my head, telling me that I was a faggot, that Jack was a real man, and that I was meant to serve a real man like him. Abruptly, I stood up and walked out of the room to take a shower and cool off.

While I was in the shower, I tried let the cool water calm me down and I tried to think through things rationally. I hated that something was going on with me, but clearly something was. The words I’d heard from Jack did something that day, and being forced to breathe in his ripe body odor had some sort of effect on me. I suppose… that was undeniable. I just had to play it cool, pretend like nothing happened, and maybe I could explore whatever this was with someone more safe. Jack… it was terrifying to think about what he’d do if he found out. That scene from the video flashed across my mind, only this time the feet in frame were Jack’s. If he found out that’d likely be my reality. Put down beneath his feet… Hearing those words, every day… That I was just his faggot and I lived to serve a real man like him…

I shook my head trying to break out of my stupor. There certainly was something about Jack and his feet. Maybe because he started all this. Maybe I could take quick whiffs of his boots while he was out or something, maybe see if that second time was just a fluke. But no matter how much that scene that just flashed through my eyes made my dick flood with blood, I couldn’t give in to that. I had to listen to reason. Who knows where that would lead me…

After washing off and finally wrapping up, I stepped out of the shower, dried off, and dressed myself before walking back to my room. As I stepped inside, Jack was still on his bed, although he was now sitting upright with a bare foot crossed over one of his legs. As I put my dirty clothes away, Jack spoke up, “Oof, perfect time, Quent. I’ve been having a problem, and need your help.” Although none of his words were necessarily scary, Jack had his usual confident grin on his face. A grin of control. A grin of power. The kind of grin a real man would have when he knows he can get what he wants.

I gulped and nodded along, “Yeah, what’s up?”

“I was working out earlier with some of the guys. You know, Vince, Keith, and Corey. Anyway, I think there must have been something in my shoe, I got like a stabbing sensation in my foot,” he grimaced as he wiggled some of his toes, my eyes instantly dropping to watch his toes slide against one another. “Thing is, I don’t see anything there, but I don’t know, I still feel the pain here. You think you can take a look?”

I’d sat on my bed while he spoke and felt a lump in my throat as he made the inquiry. Holy fucking shit, Jack was asking me to take a look at his foot… There was no fucking way that he knew what had been going through my head, was there? In an instant, I tried to process what the fuck I should do. On the one hand, it was fucking crazy to just do what he said and willingly go close to his feet like this. But on the other, he was stronger than me and could force me to do whatever he wanted. I could feel reason slipping from my hands though. This was the perfect opportunity in a way; I could get close to the source of my curiosity and really see whether being by his bare foot again caused the same effect. I had always been a bit of a nerd and in trying to process this I suppose I was trying to break it down scientifically. If I approached his foot and felt the same dizzying effect, felt the same haze as the first time and like when I watched that video, then it meant… well I’m not sure what it meant, but I could figure that out.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I let go of my earlier reasoning and decided this opportunity was too good to pass up, “Yeah, uh, sure. I can take a look.”

“Hah, nice. Knew you’d do it. Now c’mere.”

I got up and slowly ambled toward him before looking down at his right foot and deciding that I had to get down, it only made sense. After gently lowering myself to the ground, Jack then turned his foot to face me, “So do you see anything?”

Sitting so close to Jack’s big, wide foot, I suddenly felt the pressure of the situation start to sink in. It was hard to focus, and I tried my best to keep bullsitting my way through this interaction. “It’s, uh, hard to tell.” I tried to appear like I was looking at his foot from various angles. It really was hard to see anything as my eyes tried to take it all in. The huge vastness of his soles. The cheesy aroma emanating from them was stronger, but still less intense from this distance. It was different than last time. To… to get a better idea, I had to get closer. “Here… let me get a better look.”

My hands slowly reached up and grabbed Jack’s large foot, my hands slightly sliding against the still slick surface. Surprisingly, he let me just take his foot into my hands as I lifted it and stretched it out, drawing it closer to my face. There, I thought, that’s much closer, that’s juuuust about… it. All at once, I was struck over the head by the intense stench. It was just like before. It was almost… commanding. Demanding to be noticed. My eyes had started to kaleidoscope once again before I used all my willpower to bring them back in to gaze over the sole stretching before me. I tried my best to take quiet, deep breaths as that familiar scent enveloped me. It was warm and suffocating. Intoxicating in its own way.

I looked back over his foot, scanning the whole surface from heel to toes. There were a few rough spots, a testament to how much he worked out, how strong he was… a real man, but overall it was still relatively smooth and pink. I looked for anywhere there might be something pressing into his foot, causing him pain. As I held the foot close to my face, one of my thumbs naturally drifted onto the arch and pressed into the sweaty, meaty surface, kneading it. I didn’t realize I was even doing it until Jack let out a light groan.

“Oh, s-sorry, did that hurt?”

Jack had a strange expression on his face initially, not confusion like I’d expect, but an intense look in his eye that felt like he was staring through me. Then he knit his brow while listening to my apology, and grunted, “Yeah… A little. That’s why I told you to look at my foot… Did you forget that I said it hurt?”

“Oh, uh…” I quickly tried to save face and come up with the best lie that I could. “No, I was, uh, trying to see where your foot might hurt…”

“Oh, heh, well then keep that up, I’ll tell you if it hurts anywhere too bad. Otherwise just keep rubbing around like that, ‘kay?”

I let out a sigh of relief that it seemed I’d managed to get off the hook, “Yeah, of course…” This time intentionally, I let my thumbs wander back onto the surface of his sole. I thumbed around the arches, noticing tension built up from the days exertion since we joined. I firmly pressed in and guided the knots outs.

After working along his arches for a minute, I drifted up toward the ball of his foot and under his toes. There were a few roughs spots here, though the accumulation of sweat helped me to more easily knead out the pressure. I then gently massaged each of his toes before coming down to his heel.

All while I did this, I held his foot less than a few inches from my face. My head pounded from the raunchy odor, but I couldn’t stop myself from breathing it in. It was like an oxymoron. It stank so I kept breathing it in. I couldn’t stop breathing in his feet, the smell of a real man. It was repulsive, but I couldn’t help from wanting more. This is my place… right? Just like that man said— underneath his feet. Even as my face slightly contorted unconsciously from the odor, I couldn’t stop myself.

“What about the other one?” I asked almost zombielike and thoughtlessly.

“What about the other one?” Jack questioned, moving his foot from my view and managing to pull me from the atmosphere of his foot. He looked down with a mixture of confusion and disgust.

“I thought I might do the other one.” I continued, still slightly entranced.

Jack paused for a moment, then continued his interrogation. “Why the fuck would I want that? I said this was the foot that hurt, weren’t you trying to figure out where it hurt?” His voice had changed slightly. It became more assertive, almost arrogant. Like he was testing me. It helped to snap me out of the spell.

“I, uh, yeah, I was…” I mumbled, now clearly embarrassed at my thoughtlessness.

“Didn’t seem like you were really paying attention to whether it hurt or not either,” Jack scoffed. My face burned bright red at being caught in that lie. I had no idea how to save this other than by saying the very things that could bury my hole deeper. But they were all I had.

“Oh, I— I was… yeah, it seemed to really hurt around the arch. It felt like there was a knot there. That’s why I really focused there at the start.”

“Huh, I mean, I didn’t ask you to rub my nasty foot, I just wanted you to see if there was something in it, like a splinter or something. Honestly, rubbing it could have just made it worse.”

With every word he spoke I felt my heart sink further and further into my stomach. “S-sorry… I… I just wanted to help…”

“Oho,” Jack grunted contempt, “so you wanted to rub my sweaty feet then?” I don’t think my face could turn any redder than it possibly already was. I had no idea what to say anymore, so I just stayed quiet. “Ugh, jesus, you don’t need to pout. I get that you’re a fag, but it’s not like you like my feet or something, right?” Jack raised his right foot back to my face and wiggled his toes as he spoke. My heart which initially felt like it stopped hearing those words now went into overdrive being re-engulfed in that heady, sweaty scent. “Fine, you can keep rubbing,” he relented, lifting his other foot and prying off his other boot and sock. As he slowly stretched his other leg out and his second foot increased the intensity of his foot stink, something truly snapped back into place.

Without hesitation, I raised my hands again and worked on his left foot now as he dropped the right foot to rest on my shoulder. I continued to massage his left foot for quite a while, making sure I rubbed every inch, before he then pried it from my hands. Before I could react, Jack then pushed his right foot back into my face. Instinctively, I got back to work on that foot like I thought he wanted.

I’m not sure how much time passed, but after a while Jack sighed, “All right, faggot, you can kiss my feet goodbye or whatever because I’m fucking starving.” If he hadn’t pulled his foot from my hands when he did I might have actually kissed his foot. Instead, he slipped on some slides and jumped up as I crawled back over to my bed, coming down from the high of his feet. Without saying another word, he sauntered out of the room and left me alone.

I waited a few seconds but after that I practically lost control. I grabbed his still wet, sweaty socks and rushed over to my computer. I opened it back up and realized I must have closed the tab after before he came in, probably some fast thinking on my part to make sure he didn’t see anything, and I re-opened my browser looking for the same video. After a few seconds I’d found it and clicked play once again. As I listened to that voice tell me what a good faggot I was lying beneath his feet, feet that looked close enough to Jack’s, I held Jack’s damp socks to my face and took a deep inhale. Within seconds of pulling out and stroking my cock, I shot load after load onto my stomach.

As I pulled the sock away, a clear grimace on my face, I shuddered at what I’d just done. After cleaning my cock, I quickly rose up and tried to put his socks back where they’d been. I felt almost frozen with dread before all the regret and disgust came crashing back down. I ran out to the bathroom and dropped to the floor in front of a toilet, dry heaving. What the fuck did I just do? That question spun around in my head as images of Jack’s sweaty feet flashed before my eyes. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on my breathing to prevent myself from throwing up, but all I could see where the expansive soles of Jack’s feet. So close… so ripe.

I stayed on the ground for about 10 minutes before my stomach settled and I wobbled my way back to my room. I quietly crawled back into my bed and pulled the covers over my head like I’d done so many times recently. I squeezed my eyes shut for as long as it took until sleep finally took me. While I did, my hands rested close to my face and I continued to breathe in the stink that clung to them. Too tired to get back up, I eventually fell asleep feeling as though I was still surrounded by Jack’s feet.

-

-

-

Hope you all enjoyed! A fellow footsub @footsockboy wanted me to write an army foot worship story, and I did my best to do so! This is definitely another story where I could see myself adding to it in the future, so let me know if you all enjoyed it!

-

You can support and tip me here. Thank you! (:

[archer-vale]

He'll get you pregnant then degrade you for being a slut.

[fag691]

"Fuck," he groans as he pumps his third load into you in the space of an hour. He lazily fucks you a few times as you continue to silently sob. Your hole feels raw and used. Cum is seeping out from around his cock and dripping down your taint as he pushes in deeply one final them and then pulls out. "You think that worked?" He asks as he flops down next to you. You dont have time to move away before his arm is around your waist, pulling you closer "Don't be like that. You're the slut who wants to get bred. Not my fault your just a faggot." His other hand is reaching for your hole. "Yeah," he grins at you as he pushes two fingers in "this is all your fault." A squirt of cum splatters across your ass as he pulls out and then pushes back in. "I'm gonna breed you over and over," he punctuates his words by fucking you "because you're mine. Mine to take care of, and love, and to fuck." He smiles wider. "And you're never getting away from me." he sighs as you wriggle slightly in his embrace "If you keep crying like that, maybe I havent bred your hole enough today." You feel his hard cock stiffening against your thigh "Maybe you need more, a lot more. After this round, I should call some buddies of mine. Clearly you're too much of a slut for me alone to keep properly bred." You would have protested but as you open your mouth his cum covered fingers were suddenly pushing down your throat. "Good slut. There's a good faggot slut." He moans into your ear as his tip presses against your abused hole.

[fag691]

This story is inspired by a guy that I saw today. He was pissing in a urinal from like over a meter and a half away and I've been thinking about this fantasy for hours. The sight of him is the first thing you see as you unlock the door and step out of the toilet cubical. He's tall with dark hair and his relatively muscular body is clearly shown off by his tight tank top. But that's not what makes you stop and gape so openly, you're used to suppressing the impulse to stare at hot guys at the urinals. The thing that makes you stop in your tracks is the golden arc from his groin into the porcelain urinal. He's standing almost two meters from the urinal, clearly not bothered by other people seeing (although currently the only person in here is you). He is also clearly not bothered by the mess you think as you watch golden droplets of piss bounce onto the floor and walls. You should go. The thought isn't enough to make you turn towards the sink and get out as quickly as possible. What if he catches you staring. Before you realise what you're doing your feet are moving forwards. In a surprisingly swift motion you kneel almost in front of him and a second later your mouth is intercepting his stream of piss. The taste is rancid in your mouth. You try to choke for a second but then relax. After a moment you open your eyes, not realising that they had been closed. You look up at the guy pissing. His expression looks... unfazed. Bored even. Like he wasn't surprised by this. Staring up at him from your knees, his piss filling your mouth, feels strange. Not bad. Just strange. The fact that its not bad also feels strange. You are pulled from your thoughts as you realise that your mouth is close to full. You hadn't thought this through. After a moment of hesitation you close your mouth. Before you can swallow you feel the warm liquid gushing down your chin as the stream bounces of your closed mouth. You feel it move higher, soaking your face. Your eyes are closed again. The longer you wait the wetter you get. Desperately you swallow, trying not to gag at the taste as it rushes down your throat. You open your mouth quickly and the foul taste seems to grow more intense as piss begins to fill your mouth again. Your shirt and face had already been splattered a little from when you moved in front of him, but now you could feel the wetness and the smell soaking through your clothes and into your skin. It felt so humiliating. So degrading. So right, you think as you look back up at him. The stream begins to slow. Without warning he jerks his cock to make the final gush of piss hit your face before it dies out completly. As you try to blink the piss out of your eyes, a hand grabs your chin. Fingers dig into your cheeks to force your mouth, still half full of piss, to stay open. You're lifted up just a fraction and as you begin to see clearly now you see him leaning over you. He grins, before letting a large glob of spit fall straight into your open mouth. "You'd be a better urinal if you were caged." He lets go of you, letting your close your mouth to swallow the last of his piss and now spit. As you regain your composure you see a last flash of his cock as he slips it back into his jeans and then walks away. I'm not a urinal. I just... You try to process the last twenty seconds. "I'm not." You mutter. The words You'd be a better urinal caged play in your head again. The feeling of his hand holding your jaw. His spit dripping into your mouth. His piss washing over your face. Your cock is out in seconds. Still kneeling in a puddle of piss on the floor one hand jerks off furiously while the other plays with your ball. "I'm not..." you begin to say "I'm..." the words catch in your throat as you continue to jerk off. You shift backwards, your back pressing against the cold urinal, before leaning down to press your face into the pool of piss. "I'm not a good enough urinal." You moan into the floor as the first ropes of cum begin to mix with the piss. Not yet.

[malefeetislife]

🔥🔥🔥

[mastersfootrest]

Ben’s Big Feet

I woke up the next morning both incredibly anxious and the most satisfied I’d ever been. It was a strange mixture of emotions that felt antithetical to one another. But I suppose looking back, the situation was dialectical. It was both hot as fuck and completely embarrassing and pathetic. Yet even thinking back on it feeling it was “pathetic,” that only served to get that same rise out of me. And not the angry kind, the horny and desperate kind. I hung on that word pathetic and felt my still slightly aching dick strain, and in a similarly pathetic act I reached down and started stroking it again as I recounted the previous night.

-

I had been throwing a house party for a bunch of friends. It was my idea after a recent break up to try and cheer myself up. Although initially hesistant, I had invited some of my ex’s friends over. Apparently he was being very quiet about the whole matter and isolating himself, and while they still wanted to be his friend, they did not appreciate being shut out. I felt concern for him, and I knew I needed to focus on me moving forward. So when some of his friends checked on me and I told them about the party, they quickly spread the word amongst themselves and invited themselves in. Again, I felt bad… but having them want to support me like that did feel nice, I can’t lie. So we hung out, drank some beer, wine, and cocktails, and we listened to music and gamed. It was actually a real fun time, and I was glad I’d followed through with the idea.

As the party died down, most everyone left. One by one heading out my door as the minutes ticked by, until around 11 PM it was just Ben and me. We had been drinking casually throughout the night and now had another glass of wine we were slowly chipping away at as we sat on my couch. Ben was a nice guy if not a little oblivious at times. He could be pretty direct, though I could always tell that he meant well. This was perfectly captured by the direction the conversation went once we were alone.

“I still can’t believe you and Pat broke up, dude. You guys seemed like the perfect couple.” Ben sighed before taking a swig of his wine.

“Y-yeah. I guess.” I mumbled out these words still feeling awkward speaking about the split and quickly joined Ben in taking a sip. Thank fucking god for the alcohol. It at least helped to numb my feelings some as the sting from the recent break up stirred in my chest.

“He always seemed sweet on you, which y’know seemed pretty out there since he’s normally such a dick!” Ben laughed, “It always seemed like he was gloating about how perfect you guys were, like he wanted to rub it in. Guess things weren’t so perfect, huh.” I knew Ben and Patrick had this playful back and forth dynamic, often going at each other. I never really noticed how much it may have gotten to him though.

“I mean, it was a complicated situation,” I tried to reason. “He wasn’t bad—“

“Wasn’t that good either, I guess.” Ben had an edge to his voice that took me off guard for a moment before he changed his tune in the opposite direction. “I mean, I can’t really see you being the problem. You’ve always been so considerate and thoughtful.” A sweet smile crept across his face as he stretched his arms behind the couch and kicked his feet up on the coffee table.

“Oh,” I blushed, smiling myself and glancing down at his feet covered in dirty white socks. “I— I mean I try. I did try to do a lot for him.”

“Yeah, I bet. You seem like the type of guy to go above and beyond for your man.” Although I didn’t enjoy his slick jabs at Patrick, I couldn’t help but let my guard down a little as he continued to compliment me.

“Yeah. I guess I did try to do what I could to make his life easier, make him feel good, you know.” The drinks of the night were really starting to hit me, and disinhibited I admitted, “It’s just what I enjoy, but I like being of service to a guy. So I tried my best.”

“Oh yeah?” Ben leaned in intrigued. “How do you like being of service to a guy?”

“I dunno, I liked making him dinner. I’d often take care of things around the apartment. If he needed anything then I’d often try to get it for him.” I tried to stick with pretty bland and inconspicuous actions, but evidently either Ben was more keen than I’d given him credit for, or he simply wanted there to be more.

“Come ooooon, dude. That can’t be all!” Ben giggled playfully, “You said you liked taking care of your man, so there’s gotta be more than that!” He poked and prodded my arm as he spoke.

“Well…” I paused, trying to think of any other action I could describe, but coming up short, I just blurt it out. “…I’d often give him a foot massage after work.” I blushed after so directly saying that. I get that I hadn’t really admitted anything. But it came close, and I was normally way too shy to ever talk freely about my… interest like this.

“Damn!” Ben laughed, “He had you rubbing his feet after work? I get that you’re saying you’re inclined to do something like that… but shit, he was really whipping you into shape!”

Still feeling defensive and protective of Patrick, I didn’t want Ben to get the wrong idea and followed-up, “Oh, I actually offered most of the time. I would ask if he’d let— if he wanted a foot massage.” I realized I threw myself under the bus with that for the sake of my ex, but, I don’t know. I couldn’t bring myself to bad mouth Pat.

“What!?” He spat out exasperated. “You were asking to rub his feet for him? Shit, dude, no wonder he was gloating about you guys. He was getting fucking treated like a king. I can barely get a chick I’m seeing to give me a shoulder rub let alone massage my fucking feet after work.”

I could feel my face burning as he spoke. It was all still kind words though. I think that’s what lead me to be so loose lipped. “Although he didn’t really care for it too much. I guess that’s one thing that led to us having problems.”

“Hold on.” Ben raised his hands in a pausing motion. “He had you asking to rub his feet and he didn’t enjoy it? Shit man, you could fucking rub mine right now if you want! Wait, so was it just an issue of you feeling unappreciated… or…” His voice trailed off and he looked at me with a funny grin.

“I… um…” My voice felt as though it was escaping me and even if it wasn’t, I couldn’t find the words to say.

“Come on,” Ben smirked as he put an arm on my shoulder. “You can say it.”

I felt both unnerved and completely at ease upon feeling his large, warm hand against my arm. “I… um…” I started to speak, trying to force the words out that felt glued inside me. Then, all at once I realized what he’d said just a minute before. That he’d let me rub his feet. I looked down at those dirty white nike socks, and it was strange. I’d never really thought about Ben that way, and I don’t know if that was really appropriate. But something about him encouraging it… validated me. His response was so casual it made me feel… normal. “Yeah, I have a— a thing for feet. Someone else’s. I don’t know, it’s just always been kinda hot to me.”

“Sure, dude! That’s like I’ve always been a tit man myself. But tons of guys are ass dudes. You’re just like that except you like a guy’s feet!” I listened to him so easily parse through reasoning on why my fetish made sense and felt so much tension release with a simple exhale.

“You… uh, you don’t think it’s weird?” My chest and face burned with yearning. Yearning to feel understood.

“Nah man. Like what I was getting at before, I like tits because they accentuate a woman’s chest. Even when men get big and work out their pecs, they don’t get like that. A nice pair of tits is like a symbol of a chick’s womanliness. Like I see ‘em and I’m like, ’now THAT’s a woman!’ I’m sure you think something like that for a dude’s feet.”

“Y-yeah— yeah, there’s something about a guy’s feet. When they’re big and strong. It’s like that screams, ‘That’s a MAN’ to me.” Everything Ben said made so much sense. Even if I don’t like women like that, I can get what he means. It felt so much easier to open up to him. Patrick wasn’t a dick to me or anything, but he almost never really entertained my interest. I’d ask him if I could rub his feet— kiss them, lick them— but he never really initiated things, and it was like he couldn’t understand why I was into it. But Ben somehow… it was like he got it.

“Damn, dude. That’s what you get from a guy’s feet, huh? Sooo…” Ben emphasized his pause for effect before reaching down to his ankles. “What do you think about my feet?” He stripped the dirty fabric off and turned a foot to face me, flexing and wiggling his meaty toes.

Immediately I felt my face turn flush again as I stumbled over my words. “I— I, uh, I mean, maybe this isn’t right… right?”

“Whatcha mean?” Ben teased as he waved the foot up and down.

“W-well, u-using your own analogy, how would you feel if a chick just asked you to check out her breasts?”

“Hah! I’d fuckin’ love it, dude!” Ben snorted laughing. “Man, I’d fucking be like ‘Sure, lemme check ‘em out. I can feel ‘em for you too.’ Start playing with her nipples, groping ‘em. Bro, if she’s asking me to check out her tits then I bet she fuckin’ wants me playing with ‘em! Don’t lie, I bet you fuckin’ love me asking you to check out my feet.”

I couldn’t deny what Ben said, but now a question burned in my mind and it wouldn’t go away without me asking. “S-so do you want me checking out your feet? Um, p-playing with them?”

“Dude, I don’t give a shit if you look at my feet.” Ben snorted, then smirking added, “You just gotta tell me what you like about feet while you do it… And what you like about mine! I think that’s a fair trade off.” He nodded his head as if to agree with himself. He then shifted around to the other end of the couch and maneuvered his legs over so the soles of his feet were facing me. “Come on, I want you to take a look. I bet they’re fucking sexy, aren’t they? Sounds like you like manly looking feet. There’s no way mine aren’t.”

I can’t deny that I had been eyeing Ben’s feet in his socks while we’d been talking and even more so after he took his socks off, and they were very manly. They were pretty big and strong looking. It wasn’t just the toes that were meaty. His soles looked thick and powerful. I was worried about the direction this was going but as his feet plopped down into my lap, I couldn’t help but give in to my indulgence and fetish. I slowly reached over and grabbed Ben’s right foot which was crossed over the left. It was warm, and slightly sweaty. I felt my hands turn to mush from my nerves and how turned on I was. My mouth felt dry as I inspected the objects of my interest before me now. After a minute, Ben cleared his throat, “Come on, gotta hold your end of the deal.” Even without looking at him, I could feel the smirk on his face and could tell he was enjoying this.

“H-how big are they?” I asked, almost begging to know.

“Hah, so you like how big they are, huh?” He teased, flexing his toes.

“Y-yeah. They’re really, really big.”

“Makes sense, they’re size 14’s. So pretty fucking huge, yeah.”

“Oh… yeah, they are really huge. I never noticed that before. I usually tried to avoid looking at other guys’ feet.”

“Why’s that?” Ben inquired, trying to dig himself deeper and deeper into my psyche.

“I don’t want to get turned on so easily,” I admitted. “Plus, I wasn’t single before, it felt like a betrayal if I was gawking at another man’s feet.”

“Well, now you can look alllll you want, bud. Now, what else do you like about feet?” Somehow I felt that smirk bore even deeper into my mind.

“I like the way a guy’s feet can look.” I stared deep into Ben’s fleshy soles. They weren’t too rough, but they weren’t super soft either. Evidence pointing toward the time he’d spend on his feet. “You have some wide soles, but with a visible arch,” I maneuvered his feet and palmed the soles in response to where I was talking about. “You also have nice toes. They’re not fat, but still plump; and not short and stubby, but also not too long. They’re…” My voice trailed off, but Ben was quick to finish that thought.

“Perfect?” Ben grinned to himself as I continued to stare deep into the bottom of his feet. I nodded slowly in response to his assertion. “Hah! Nice. Figured I’d have some pretty sexy feet after thinking about it some… but ‘perfect,’ huh? That’s pretty hot to hear.” Not missing a beat, he kept prodding me, “So, what else? Can’t just be the looks that gets you going. I know it’s not that way for me when it comes to a nice pair of tits.”

“Oh… Um, no, I, uh, yeah I do like some other things.” I was losing nerve for sure, but also just looking into Ben’s feet made it harder to think straight.

“Sooooo,” he emphasized dramatically, “What else?” He wiggled and scrunched his toes as he spoke and pushed them slightly closer. It’s strange the difference what little distance made, but now I could pick up on the slightly cheesy, heady scent practically radiating from his feet.

“Th-their smell… I like their smell.” I confessed disinhibited, almost trancelike watching Ben’s feet.

“What? Really?” Ben laughed in disbelief. “Dude, my feet fucking reek though. You like that?”

“Y-y-yeah…” I nodded still entranced by the movement of Ben’s toes.

“Shit, I mean I’m kinda curious now. I kinda wanna see you take a hit of my feet and tell me what you think. Jesus, that’s fucking crazy to say out loud. I can see why you were hush-hush about it, but damn it’s kinda funny to think about.”

I was so fucking close to grinding my face into the bottom of Ben’s soles, but my better judgment— what little remained of it— kept me cognizant of what is appropriate. “I… I don’t know, Ben. Wouldn’t that be going too far…?”

“You think?” Ben wondered aloud. “Yeah, I guess if we think about that tits analogy. You checking them out is one thing, you feeling them and massaging them would be like groping ‘em, and boy I’d already be itching to get inside a chick at that point, so I can’t imagine how horny I must be making you feel right now.” I did my best to keep my eyes off of his as my face burned in embarrassment the more he spoke. I was absolutely horny out of my mind. “I guess sniffing my nasty feet would be like… kissing and licking the tits… Although, wait… Shit, that’d be more like if you kissed and licked my fucking feet and toes. Wait, do you like that too?”

I was petrified listening to Ben speak like this. Not because it made me feel disgusting or weird, but because he was so direct in the way he spoke about me playing with his feet. Despite myself, I swallowed hard and nodded, “Oh, uh, yeah… I really like that.” I  internally kicked myself for that— did I really have to say I “really” liked it?!

“Hah! Fuuuuck, dude. So you’re saying you’d lick my feet?” In the swirl of embarrassment within me, the one saving grace was how earnest Ben seemed. It made me let down my guard despite the otherwise uncomfortable situation. “Would you do it even if they were dirty and sweaty like right now?” I immediately nodded, blushing hard. “Jesus Chriiiiiist.” Ben let out a long sigh, “Shit man, that is crazy… You know, I meant it before. I would kill to have a nice foot rub.” Ben lifted his feet close to my face and flexed his toes, fanning them and the sharp rancid, yet hypnotic stench.

I sat staring down at Ben’s big feet, caught between responding and not giving in to my urges. The urges that make me feel weak. The urges that make me lose control of myself. “Come on, you can rub ‘em for me a little, right?” He smiled, slyly.

“I… I don’t know, Ben.” I muttered back. Fighting back as much as I could. Nervous about what it would mean and what would happen if I gave in to him.

“No one will find out. You’re just doing a small favor for your buddy.” Ben grinned feigning innocence.

“Just a small favor?” I mumbled out, watching Ben’s second toe flick against the big toe. That heavy odor slowly wafting up toward me.

Seeing the opportunity, Ben pounced. “Yeah, they hurt, y’know. You’re just helping me so they hurt less. You’re a good pal. You don’t want me to be hurting do you?”

“Well, no, of course I don’t—“

“So you’ll rub ‘em for me! You’re such a sweet friend.” Ben beamed, tapping his heel against my leg.

I really didn’t think this was appropriate… but I didn’t want Ben to be in pain. Reluctantly, I placed my hands back on to the warm, moist soles and began sliding my thumbs over his right arch.

“Shiiiiiiit, dude.” Ben sighed, “Fuck yeah, keep that up.” He leaned back and settled down further, stretching his legs out more. Backed up against the end of the couch, I awkwardly continued pampering his first foot as it nearly pressed into me.

Thumbs up the arches, then over the balls. Slide down the arches then over the heels, I continued to massage Ben’s feet. As I did, that foul, cheesy scent invaded my mind. I guess they were pretty sweaty… so sweaty in my hands. My hands were covered in Ben’s foot sweat. I wondered how they might smell directly at the source.

I slowly raised a hand to my face before catching myself and pulling it back down and resumed massaging. I couldn’t sniff Ben’s foot funk… not… not in front of him! What would he think? I mean, he knew I had a foot fetish, but still… that would be taking it too far, right?

I tried to focus on taking care of Ben’s feet, but it was like every few seconds he batted those long, meaty toes and a dusting of rank odor would fill my lungs and I’d have to stop myself from breathing so deeply.

I looked up to Ben and noticed he was on his phone. I felt so grateful that he was, it at least sheltered some embarrassment. I turned my attention back to his feet as I slid my fingers between his toes, stretching them. He released a deep sigh feeling his toes stretch out and as my fingers pulled back out it was easy to feel how coated in his toe sweat they’d become. My fingers had run through perhaps the most potent area of stink. I could already smell the dank odor, but… but it wasn’t enough. Once again, my hand crept up to my face until it was just under my nose. I took a deep, soft inhale. Though it wasn’t directly from the source, the scent was more powerful than what I’d gotten up until this point. My head spun from the intensity of the smell.

“Take another whiff.” I heard. I obeyed. I took another whiff of my fingers and once again felt my head roll back as that stinging stink filled my lungs. It wasn’t until Ben raised his foot up to my face that I realized what had happened. “Why don’t you take a hit right from my feet?”

I held up Ben’s foot as he prodded me into action. I tried to resist, to hold back as much as I could as his foot hung inches from my face, its pounding smell already suffocating me. “Oh, I, um, I…” I stuttered.

“That cool air would feel so good on my feet. I bet that’d make ‘em feel so much better. You wanna be a good friend and help me feel better, right?” Still gazing into the meaty flesh I gently nodded to his assertion. “Then,” He ordered, moving the foot forward until it pressed against my cheek and lips and forehead. “Take a deep breath in.” I inhaled sharply, my chest drumming faster and faster, and my face burning in intoxication. “Fuuuuuck… aaand exhaaaale.” I complied and breathed out. After the first inhale, my resistance shattered and I was giving in. I took another hit, and hit after hit. Deep, long inhales as I let go and began massaging the other foot. Ben ground his huge sole against my face and I caressed it in turn. Gingerly symbolizing and admitting my submission, forfeiting any sense of self-respect.

“Shit, dude, you’re really getting in there, huh? Oof, man, and that shit has to fucking reek. I walked to get here… That was a mile and a half or so. You sure you wanna be smelling my dirty, nasty feet?”

I was struck dumb by the very ripe feet Ben was taunting me with. In this state, to me, his words sounded sincere, and I played right into his hand. “P-please…” I begged, burying my face beneath the sole on my face, my lips dragging against the moist arch. “Please don’t make me stop…”

“Hah, come on, you can do better than that.” Ben sneered, removing his foot from my face and hanging it over the side of the couch, like a dangling carrot. I gullibly took the bait, sliding off the couch as he maneuvered around to get more comfortable. “Come on, why should  I let you sniff my disgusting feet?”

“B-because I need it,” I threw my face back into both of Ben’s soles now, the combined stench sending me into overdrive. “Please, Ben, please, I’ll do whatever you want, I need your feet. Please let me sniff and kiss and worship your feet.”

“Whoa, worship, huh? Heh, fuck, I should be worshipped, shouldn’t I?” “Yes!” I agreed gently kissing Ben’s feet. The very faint flavor of his sweat was salty and slightly sour. It drove me crazy. “Please, please let me worship you. Whatever you want!”

“Heh, whatever I want, huh? Tell me, who has sexier feet, Pat or me?” The question almost snapped me out of my stupor. Almost.

“You!” I shouted placing firmer kisses against Ben’s feet. With every kiss, I descended further and further under his grasp.

“Who’s fucking hotter, Pat or me?”

“You! You are. You’re so fucking hot, he never drove me this crazy. I can’t even… fucking…” I began panting beneath his hot soles as I spoke, overcome with lust.

“Can’t even fucking control yourself, huh? So who fucking owns you with their fucking feet? And you can answer that with your tongue.”Immediately my tongue shot out and dove, pressing against Ben’s damp skin, absorbing the sweat and foot gunk, sliding up and weaving between his toes. I felt my eyes roll to the back of my head as I tasted and savored his toe jam. My legs, which were kneeling, and back suddenly gave out and within seconds I was on the ground. Ben didn’t miss a beat, his feet never relenting in swallowing my face as they pinned it to the floor. “You’re not fucking going anywhere,” he snarled, grinding them against my face. “Pat always wanted to rub your perfect little relationship in my face, well now I’m rubbing my filthy feet in your face! Hah! Fuck yeah, get in between every fucking toe!”

I was barely registering the words Ben was saying, though I felt the raw dominance they were dripping in. It only served to make me weaker. Drool trailing from my lips along the bottom of his soles, I looked up at him, eyes soft and glassy. Smirking, he lowered a foot until a big toe pressed against my lips which parted easily for the salty invader. Adding his second big toe, he stretched my lips apart into a smile. “Awww,” he mused, “look how happy you are with my big toes in your mouth.” My tongue, still free, continued to wipe itself against his dirty soles collecting sock lint and other foot jam. My eyes naturally fell down to his feet, then after a second, he prodded me, “Now why don’t you say, ‘I love Ben’s big feet.’”

Unhesitatingly, I muffled out. “I lumfff Benshhh biihggg shtinky feeethhh.”

Ben laughed at my obedience, and cocked a brow. “My big stinky feet, eh? Ha! Well, while I didn’t tell you to say that part, that’s fucking pathetic… and hot as shit. You’re a pathetic little foot fag, aren’t you?” Despite the harsh words, Ben’s voice and tone were more pleasantly teasing and playful.

I nodded, zombielike with drool dripping out of my mouth and down Ben’s long toes. My tongue dropped out and licked it back up. A big big was plastered on his face as he removed one of his toes from my mouth and tapped my face with the sole of his foot.

“That’s a good foot licker.” Ben chuckled to himself. “Suck on my big toe while you rub the other foot.” Closing my eyes I complied. Letting my world go dark as I only focused on the stinging stink that hypnotized me and the salty sweat that captivated me and the warm, moist flesh that controlled me.

After some time, we switched toes that I suckled on and which foot I massaged. Ben slapped my face around and enjoyed shoving his toes in my mouth and making me take long laps along his arches. While I was sucking on his heel, Bensuddenly removed his soles from my face and in a swift motion, stood above me and revealed his hard, thick cock. Before I could make sense of anything, spurt after spurt of cum shot onto my face. It went over my lips and into my eyes. All I could do was lie there as he continued to coat me in an additional layer of his domination over his foot funk.

After a moment, Ben’s breathing slowed and he sighed contentedly as he kneeled down and pressed his large cock head against my lips. Once again, without resistance, they opened and my tongue naturally swirled around the delicious cream cleaning his tool of domination for him. 

“Anything you wanna say for getting to suck out my toe jam, foot boy?” Ben could barely stifle his own laughter as my lips stretched to their limit by his hung cock.

“Th-Thhfaangg yheuuuugh!” I cried out, every drop of Ben’s cum further crushing my psyche and awareness.

“Yoooouuuu’reeee welcome. You know you can always fag out on my stinky feet. ‘Cause I’m just suuuuch a good friend.”

I nodded as I continued to suck on the juicy meat. Once it was sufficiently clean, Ben rose up, dressing himself before tapping my face once with a foot, now closed within a shoe.

“You did a great job. You’re suuuuch a good friend, Ollie. My feet feel so much better now!” Sighing, Ben started walking away, “Anyway, see ya later! We should do this again!” He cried out before exiting my apartment.

I sat there coated in Ben’s toe jam and cum for a long time unable to move or think. Gradually reality settled in and I grew embarrassed and guilty for how depraved I acted. Despite that, I couldn’t bring myself to wash off my face. I reached down and within seconds of touching my cock shot my own load. Exhausted I got up, wiping my dick on a nearby towel before crawling into bed and letting sleep easily take over.

-

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-

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[mastersfootrest]

Losing Everything Beneath Ted’s Feet

“Ugh, today was just so exhausting, I think I need a break, man.” I sighed, walking next to the couch.

My sincere declaration was met with the deep, boisterous laughter of my roommate, Ted. “Naw man, you’re just pussin’ out ‘cause you know you’re about to get fucking tanked dude!”

Scoffing, I shrugged off his accusation. “I win like nine times out of ten! I don’t even think you believe that!”

“There’s something in the air, dude. I was feeling it at work today. It was like I could lift anything I needed to without any struggle. I just know I’m gonna do the same to you… if you don’t puss out that is.” His voice was stern and strong. Defiant to all resistance.

“We game like all the time,” I tried to reason, “why does it have to be tonight? We can just do this tomorrow, right?”

“Naw, man,” he shook his head. “I wanna run on this high. How ‘bout we make this interesting. I know you didn’t hang out with the guys in college, but we have a lot of ways of making games more interesting. We’ll change it up, make it more fun. Something worthwhile for you.”

“Ignoring whatever that jab was…” I rolled my eyes, “What are some of these ideas?”

“We could bet money, though that’s always the most boring option.”

“Dude, we barely make enough to have any sort of fun money. What else is there.” “Good, I didn’t want to do that shit either,” he agreed. “We’d also make bets where the loser had to do whatever the winner said.” He started howling to himself. “There was one time where a friend of ours, Eli, kept fucking losing! Hahaha, eventually Stan just got sick of it, and made a bet that if Eli lost he had to be his slave for a week. Fuck, dude! Eli’s face when he fucking lost, and lost hard. It was fucking hilarious.” He paused for a moment and then made a face like he had an epiphany before chuckling to himself.

“Dude, what?” I inquired, quizzically staring at him losing it all on his own.

“I forgot, Eli came out a few years after we all graduated. Fuck… you know… he probably fucking lost that shit on purpose! I heard some of the sick shit Stan made him do that week… it makes sense he ended up being a fag—“ He stopped himself before he finished, looking at me sheepishly. “Heh, sorry man, I almost forgot myself for a minute. I know you don’t like hearing that word, ‘specially out of a straight man like me.”

I was taken aback by how Ted was just talking and could only slowly nod. Seeing that he wasn’t really reprimanded, he concluded, “You just should have seen it, man. If you were there, it would have made sense. If there was ever a time to use that word, looking back now, it was then!”

Nervously laughing, I just tried to move the conversation along. “Aaaanyway, let’s rule that out for now, any others?”

“Well, we also used to have the losers take shots. That was always funny since they’d just get worse and worse and end up wasted by the end. But you don’t drink, so that just leaves the last option.” He paused before a wicked grin spread across his face.

“What is it, man?” I leaned in expectantly.

He leaned forward in turn and I could feel his hot breath, thick with the scent of his beer spread across my face. “Strip betting. Loser takes off a piece of clothing. Keep going ‘till they’re naked… or more.” He had a shit eating grin with the last addition, a statement and a grin I didn’t understand in this moment.

“I don’t really know what you mean by more, but how does this entice me?”

“C’mon, bro. You don’t have to play coy. I know you’d probably love to see me strip off my clothes. ‘Specially after a long day, see the sweat glisten on this skin. Just try and tell me you’re not down for this shit.”

Now Ted was definitely a handsome guy. Really the embodiment of being a MAN, at least in the traditional sense. He had big everything. Big legs, big feet, big arms, a big belly. Yet you could tell underneath it all was this dense muscle. People would sometimes laugh seeing us as roommates considering the difference between us. I did try to workout, but mainly so I could have a big butt and eat a little treat every now and then. Compared to him, I was practically twink-ish despite not looking as thin or malnourished as many twinks do. But that’s just what happens when you have a hulking man standing beside you. And Ted’s features were all highlighted by a rugged, but clean and even, in some ways, cute face. He had a baby face that finally adultified and just became handsome and strong.

So, honestly, I couldn’t lie, thinking about seeing him naked wasn’t an unattractive proposition. But also, Ted was straight as a door nail. What would I really gain from getting this man to strip? An amplified undying lust for a man I could never have? Pass. I was getting ready to turn down the idea when he spoke back up.

“Spending an awfully long time thinking about it, huh, dude? It’s all right, I bet you’re just having to think about a good excuse for why you could turn me down when you know you wanna see this all exposed.”

I turned beet red and started stuttering trying to deny the accusation.

“Ah ah ah,” he tutted, “It’s all right, why don’t we just play a few games and you can see how much fun you’re having. After two or three rounds, if you still wanna call it quits, we can. Sound fair?”

Honestly, at this point I felt exhausted. Going along with what he wants just felt like the easier option.

“Sure,” I reasoned, “we can play a few rounds, see how it goes.”

With that shit eating grin returning to his face, he exclaimed in victory, “Atta boy! Hope you’re ready to taste defeat again and again!”

-

After putting my work things away, I came back into the living room and sat on the couch beside Ted. He had also recently come home and was still in his work clothes. As a construction worker, this meant he had on some thick jeans, heavy boots, and two layers of shirts, one long-sleeve undershirt and a thick zip up coat. I glanced over his attire and exclaimed, “Hey! That’s not fair. You have on more than me. You even still have on your boots! That’s gotta be cheating.”

“Heh, that’s just the way the game works, Lev, my boy. It’s whatever you’re wearing at the time. So don’t even think about going to put on more shit. ‘Sides, I had these boots on because as much as it’d feel better to have ‘em off, we were working hard today and it was a warm one for us. I was trying not to stink up the place too much.”

I looked down at his boots and shuddered. Ted and I moved in together toward the end of Fall and it was now starting to get to be late Spring and warming up. For the most part, he’d always commented how nice it was that we’d had such cold weather since it kept him cooled. But today had been pretty hot in comparison. The first day in the 60’s after months of anything barely above 40’s. Maybe he was doing us a favor…

But as I heard the upbeat music of the first game kick in, I turned my attention to the game and locked in. We played three different games: a kart racer, a fighting game, and a free-for-all game where you tried to survive being knocked out in mini games. As much as it’d be a little tedious switching between, we loved the change of pace and it helped us to never get bored.

I was better than Ted at almost all of them. The first two were easy to master through playing often, but the last involved too many unknowns with online players. That’s what made it almost more fun, but also the hardest to rely on. I felt confident though that I could make it out the winner even if he consistently won in the third game.

The discrepancy in our skill levels was only made more apparent once we actually started. As exhausted as I was, I was still able to maintain first for all of the races, while he sat comfortably in second, never really coming near me.

“See, Ted, I don’t really see how you think this is going to work in your favor.” I tried to reason with him once more.

Grunting, he just untied his laces and pried off a heavy boot. “There’s plenty of time left to come in from behind. Hehe, I’m often coming from behind if you know what I mean.” He snickered to himself as we switched to the fighting game.

I rolled my eyes as my nose twitched slightly. He wasn’t lying about keeping those boots on. That’s when I noticed he still had one of them on!

“Hey, don’t you need to take that other boot off!”

“Ahhh, see, it’s just one article of clothing, Lev. I took one off, didn’t I?”

Exasperated, I once again felt it would just be easier to let Ted have his way. Shaking my head, I turned back to the new game on the screen and selected my character.

“See, it’s all just easier, when you let ‘ol Ted lead and you follow. Now, I’m about to beat your pansy ass.” He laughed to himself.

Ted did not, in fact, beat my pansy ass. But… He came a lot closer than he has before.

“Damn! I really am better at this game today!” He exclaimed to himself as he began unlacing the second boot. With a loud thud, he dropped the other boot just like the first and kicked his socked feet up onto the ottoman.

We prepared to move on to the third game and as the game loaded us into the first round I noticed my nose felt like it was on fire. It took a second or two before I realized it was as if it was being pounded with a sweaty, stinky sledge hammer. I tried to hold my breath through my nose, but somehow that made it worse. It felt like I needed to breathe more, air it out more… except airing it out really only sucked in more of the dank air.

It wasn’t for a few second that I realized we’d started.

“Shit!” I exclaimed, as I rushed to try and catch up as many of the other players characters bounded across the screen ahead of me.

It was tough, but with much effort, I made it through the round and on to the next. Beside me, I heard Ted chuckling to himself about how far ahead he was and how it was time for me to be knocked down a peg.

I was determined to make it through, this would teach him a lesson and hopefully show him how dumb this was turning out to be. He was just going to end up naked in front of me!

As the round started and we had to stay alive to progress, that thought circled in my head. Ted was going to get naked in front of me. Would he really undress all the way? There was no way… right? Flashes of a thick, bushy cock at the base of his crotch flashed before my eyes and I had to squeeze them shut and open again to refocus.

I managed to just barely dodge something that threatened to knock me out, but as I jumped out of the way, I ran into a small group of other players and just as another object came flying past, someone grabbed me and together we were hit and sent off the edge, knocking us out.

“Dammit!” I yelled, excitedly. “Ugh,” I sighed as the realization of the loss hit me as Ted’s character progressed on, “I lost, fair and square.” I fessed up.

“Hell yeah you did. Now take off your shirt, bro. Loser strips.” 

I complied with his order and threw my shirt down before turning to him in confusion. “Wait, how come you get to tell me what to take off!”

Bellowing in laughter so hard, his character ended up getting knocked out and eliminated, he wiped away a tear before admitting, “I was just seeing if you’d do it. Besides… normaaaally we do let the winners decide what the losers will remove.”

Exasperated, I called him out, “You didn’t tell me that before!”

“HAH! So I bet you would have wanted to have me strip more than just my boots, huh? What, would you have told me to take my pants off? I knew you’d wanna see me naked! See pretty enticing game, huh?”

I fumbled my words trying to find some way to resist what he was saying. It wasn’t really that he was right per se. Sure, seeing Ted take his pants off would have been hot, but that wouldn’t have even been my first choice. I’d have probably said his jacket and then maybe his shirt.

“Whatever, man.” I pouted, unable to form the words properly to retort his argument. “Let’s just get back to the kart racer so I can beat your ass again.”

“We’ll see about that,” Ted taunted.

But I was locked in. After restarting the first game, I didn’t do amazingly, but I made sure to beat him every time, even if only just barely. Shit… was he getting better at this?

“So, I guess you want me to take off my pants now?” Ted sighed, but with a cocky grin on his face.

I took a second to speak before quietly demanding, “…Sock.”

“Huh? I didn’t quite catch that?” He snickered.

“Take off a sock. I’m not just gonna tell you to take your pants off!”

Giggling to himself like he’d won something, he followed through and removed his left sock, the foot closer to me. I was busy setting up the fighting game when he sneered and announced “Here’s your prize!” as he tossed the sock onto my face.

I felt the damp warm surface fall across my nose and mouth before I had time to react. Taken aback, I sharply inhaled through my nose and was assaulted by Ted’s dank foot sweat nearly from the source. Instantly I felt light-headed and slowly reached up to swipe it off my face. For a moment though, that burning sensation had stopped. Perhaps overwritten by all the other intense dysregulating scents defiling my nose. It was relief… but… but not in a good way, that couldn’t be good relief.

With the game now set up, my nose resumed twitching, itching and burning, almost more intensely now. Probably from his sock being removed. Fuck. What the hell did Ted do today?

It was a slight blur, but I selected my character and we started and I was trying to fight back, but it was much harder this time. Ted was getting so much better. We were basically even this time.

My only saving grace is that his attacks seemed sporadic and isolated. I tried my hardest to focus in just enough to plan a combo and with both of us on our last lives and close to being taken out, I sent him flying off the map.

Despite, this I felt unable to breathe a sigh of relief.

“Whooo! That was a close one, bud. You were putting up a good fight there, but I’ll for sure, have you next time.” He smirked, and playfully ran a finger across my exposed nipple sending electricity shooting through my cock.

With that it felt like I could finally take that deep inhale again as I shuddered from the sensation. Ted then crossed his right leg to face me and chuckled, “Other sock this time I take it?”

Despite my defiance and not wanting to seem like a horny perv, after all the teasing and the struggle to make it through these matches, I desperately wanted him to take off his pants. I readied to open my mouth as Ted slid a finger into the sock and prepared to peel it off.

“C’mon, bud, it’s not that hard to just tell me to peel off the other stinker.” He grunted humorously.

“Oh… yeah. Take off the other sock then, please.” I mumbled. It would just be easier to go along with what Ted wanted. Besides, he said he’d wanted to get more comfortable. Considering I’m gonna keep coming out on top, the least I could do was let him be comfortable as he lost.

“Hah, ‘Please?’ Well at least you’re learning some manners.” Ted said amused. As we went back to the third game, he stretched out his legs and crossed his feet.

I was determined to keep winning. Even as it felt like my capabilities were diminishing for some reason… maybe the exhaustion. Still, as our little characters were sent into the first mini game, I stayed laser focused on the screen. It was hard fought, but this time I made it to the final round with Ted.

This was a survival round, and per our rules, the winner doesn’t have to win the whole thing, just survive longer than the other person. Our characters stood on platforms that would disappear after a few moments and we had to keep running and jumping around to stay alive as we used up our flooring. Tier after tier of flooring disappeared until we were nearing the bottom. Both Ted and I still in it. He was one tier below me, giving me the upper hand. As I sat frozen and focused, Ted remained calm and assured of himself.

“Now don’t think you got this in the bag just because I’m closer to fallin’ out.” He crossed his right leg and leaned his head forward, bringing in his focus as well.

My nose started to twitch and burn again, inadvertently drawing my eyes down to the source. His right foot looked as though it was facing me, staring at me. The toes wiggled playfully despite Ted’s clear focus, as if demonstrating that he was still relaxed and in control beneath that facade of focus. He stretched and scrunched his foot and I had to scratch my nose to stop the burning. A half second after I did, I heard the sound of one of us being eliminated. I looked up excitedly as I saw my screen now mirroring his own, an indication that I had been the one eliminated.

“Fuck yeah!” He shouted, as excited as I had been mere moments ago. “I don’t know what the fuck got into you, but you were barely fuckin’ moving, dude!” Chuckling he taunted me further. “Finally realize you can’t win against me? I told you there was something in the air, and I’m about to dominate you, just watch and see!”

Almost as if not caring to even try anymore, Ted was eliminated himself shortly after as I sat in disbelief. I tried to shake his arrogance, but it was hard to let go of when I knew he had been getting closer and closer to winning each game, not just this one.

I was so much better than him. What the fuck was going on?!

As he started up the third round of our games, he demanded, “Pants off, now.”

Still stunned, I stood up and slowly took my pants off before dropping them next to my shirt. It wasn’t until I felt a huge, meaty hand slap my bare ass that I was brought back to reality.

“Fuck, dude! You’re fucking kinky as hell wearing a jockstrap to work! Haha, that cozy ass desk job really lets you get away with anything, huh?!”

My face now bright red, I quickly sat back down, still able to feel the sensation of Ted’s sweaty hand against my cheek. At a loss for words, I reached for a blanket to try and cover up when Ted maneuvered around and kicked my hand with a foot.

“Hey! No covering up! We’re stripping as a part of the bets, that’d defeat the purpose!”

Ted didn’t take his eyes off the screen as I tried to protest and continue pulling a blanket toward me. “Ted, come on, this is embarr—“ He moved his foot to kick away my hand again before missing and I felt a warm and sweaty, dirty sole push into my face. Once again, as the wet musk forced its way into my olfactory senses, the strange sensation with my nose died down and inadvertently released tension in my shoulders and relaxed my face.

“Hah! Whoops, didn’t mean to do that,” he feigned apologetically despite keeping his foot up against my face. “But this works too. Shut you up good, hah! Now, like I said, no covering up. If you win and get me to take off my pants, then I’ll sit right next to you just the same. I won’t have my hairy cheeks out like your smooth ass is out,” he chuckled to himself, “but I’d do it all the same.” After a pausing a second and wiggling his big, meaty toes across my face, he asked, “Do you understand? You gonna sit there bare cheeks exposed like a good boy?”

Despite feeling embarrassed and shaken, I gently nodded, almost caressing my face into his feet.

“Good. Now let’s get back into this shit so I can kick your ass some more!” He cheered, removing the huge sole from my face. I turned my attention back to the game and tried to set up a different build to try and help, but as I did, I couldn’t help but notice that discomfort return to my nose.

Switching up my build from balanced to speedy, I chose one of the thinner female racers which elicited a response from Ted.

“Heh, really leaning into them fag roots now with that pick. But we both know that’s not gonna help you. My man’s huge, like me. He’s gonna run right through and dominate you.” Ted taunted.

I was so focused on trying to win, I barely registered the individual words he said, just that he was saying he’d crush me.

“You’ve been getting destroyed at this,” I pushed back, trying to hold on to my confidence. “There’s no way you’re gonna fucking win. I can guarantee it.”

“Heh,” he grinned devilishly as our racers lined the starting point. “Fine, let’s make this interesting. Shake things up. You win, and you can have me take off two pieces of clothing.”

“You’re on! I’ll do it!—” I agreed proudly.

“Ah,” he cut me off as our racers took off down the course. “If I win, you don’t have to take off anything though, since you’re already soooo close to losing the whole damn thing.” He teased, before revealing my loss condition. “Instead, you’ll be bargaining a service. I’ll get to have you do whatever I want… for five minutes! So thanks for already agreeing!” He snickered.

To his credit, playing these games with these conditions had gotten me more invested… and as I was more invested, I was more intent to win. In a final act of defiance, I asserted, “Fine! But it’s not going to happen. I know it! So it doesn’t matter, we could bet that I do whatever you want five, ten… even, fifteen minutes, but it’s not happening!”

“HAH! You just dug your grave, little man. I know exactly what I’ll have a cocky little shit like you do for fifteen minutes, maybe it’ll teach you some humility.”

Our racers finished the first and second laps as we concluded our banter. I had been ahead of Ted for most of the race, a huge boon thanks to that speed he tried to discredit; but as we approached the halfway point of the final lap he finally pulled ahead of me.

“Heh, victory is within grasp, I can already feel your hands working my tired arches and soles.”

“What?” I questioned, distracted.

“Yeah, that’s right, when I win you’re gonna really get to experience being beneath me. Literally. Hope you enjoy getting up close and personal with my big dogs. Gonna shut that trap of yours and have you treat me like a king.”

He gloated as if his victory was assured. But I had one last chance. As we approached the end point, I was trailing behind him with a speed item. He was close to the edge of the course on his left and after taking a sharp turn, I was closer and could use my speed item to cut past him. Going to the right was safer, but I knew I could do it.

I clicked to use the item while there was still time left and shouted, “I’m not rubbing your big stinky—“ 

Then just as I got ready to pass him, his heavy-class male character rammed their kart into the kart of the light-class female character I’d chosen and sent it flying off the edge.

Not a second later, he passed the finish line in first.

“Whoo!” Ted erupted joyously, practically jumping in his seat. “What’d I tell you about playing a faggy character, dude! A man always comes out on top!” I was too stunned to speak and while I tried to find the words, I felt his big sweaty paw on the back of my neck shove me to the ground. Turning around he moved his feet on top of me, pressing my back against the ground. “Now, what was that about my feet? You said you wouldn’t rub my stinky feet? Is that anyway to talk about the man who owns you for the next fifteen minutes?” His arrogance grew ten times what it’d ever been. He was enjoying this. “I think a little bitch in your place should learn to enjoy their job. And since your job is rubbing my stinky,” he emphasized the word again, “feet, you’re not just gonna rub ‘em. Start with the right,” he demanded, shaking the foot in my face as I lifted my hands, still too stunned to do anything else but what he was telling me. “And, while you rub that one. You’re gonna be taking deeeeep whiffs of the other.” He extended his left foot into my face until it engulfed me. My head spun underneath the dank cheesy captor.

I opened up my mouth to speak, and perhaps feeling my lips brush against his feet due being pressed against them, he pushed harder, shutting me up just like he said he would. “No talking. Don’t even try to weasel out of this. You agreed. Heh, you fucking pushed it. Tripling the damn time. Bet you wish you didn’t put your damn foot in your mouth now.” He laughed as he spoke before pausing at the end. “Heh… HA! No… not yet at least. That just gave me a realllll good idea… Hahaha, I’m sure you’ll learn it soon enough, but for now, rub, bitch! I’ll tell you when to switch.”

I was unnerved by whatever his new idea was, but with my face pinned down by his foot and my senses dizzied from swimming in his musk that could only be defined as the epitome of manliness… the only thoughts that could make it through were those telling me to just go along with what Ted wanted. It was easier to just do what Ted wanted.

And so I did, exactly as he said, I took a deep, deep inhale of his foot sweat, right between the dirty toes speckled with toe jam. Above me, Ted closed his eyes and relaxed, seeming to enjoy the sensation of me inhaling his foot funk as I massaged the other foot.

Overwhelmed by the essence of Ted, my brain just… shut down. I massaged and inhaled, exhaled and massaged. My hands moving as if they had a mind of their own, which they must have because I wasn’t really thinking about what I was doing, but in the fuzzy understanding that I had, I could just barely make out them pausing and focusing on certain areas after he’d groan in pleasure from those focal points being attended to.

Eventually, he swapped feet, and this time, his right foot truly covered my entire face. Instead of placing my nose between his first two toes, it founds itself beneath his long, wide arch. Unable to see anything, I closed my eyes and continued the deep inhales while massaging his feet.

During this period, my nose, while assaulted by his scent, felt completely at ease. It made it easier to lean into this. A thought appeared, but completely subjugated beneath his feet, it never fully registered: All my discomfort and pain stops when I listen to Ted and inhale his ripe feet. That unregistered thought tickled my brain and I took deeper, fuller breaths.

After switching feet, I could just barely make out Ted moving around above me. His foot would slightly shift its weight and I’d hear the couch groan as he adjusted his position. Despite this, I just kept my eyes closed and inhaled as I massaged his feet. That was, after all, what he told me to do.

However, after another minute, he sighed, sounding slightly disappointed and removed his foot from my face. My eyes fluttered open and saw his phone angled down toward me as his foot roughly slapped the side of my face.

“Any words you have to say now, foot sniffer?”

“Huh…?” I said slowly, trying to understand what was going on, my head still spinning and subdued from his stink.

“How about a ‘Thank you, Ted?’” He jeered, pushing his big toe into my cheek.

“Th… Thank you… Ted—“ I started to say, still going along with whatever he told me. But as I spoke, I finally felt grounded again and realized what he was doing and opened my mouth to tell him to delete the recording, “Ted—“

“You’re welcome!” He shouted above my voice, “Thanking me for letting you rub my stinky, dirty feet, hah! This is too good!” He grinned to himself and ended the recording, putting his phone into his pocket.

“Ted! Delete that!” I yelled, what the fuck was he doing, he never said anything about that!

“That’s not anyway to talk to your roomie after you agreed to rub his feet.” He taunted me, riling me up. “Maybe if you say please, I’ll consider it.”

I did NOT want to listen to him any longer… but I wanted that recording deleted. Reluctantly, I grumbled out, “Please…”

“What?” Ted teased.

“Please, Ted. Please delete that recording.” I spoke up.

“Kiss my foot and maybe I’ll do it.”

“No way! I’m not kissing your dirty foot. Your time is up!” I rose from the ground.

“Fine, if you want me to delete it then beat me in another game.” He was goading me, but unable to think of another way to get him to do it, given he was much bigger and stronger than me, I acquiesced.

“Fine! You delete it and you take off two pieces of clothing.” I bargained.

“I’ll delete it if you win— nothing else— but if I win, you either take off two pieces of clothing, or you have to be my slave again. 45 minutes this time!”

“Fine!” I acquiesced, still a little tipsy on his foot stink.

I wouldn’t lose again. He was even more shit at this next game. There was no way I would lose.

After picking our characters, I went for another faster paced character whose skill centered around dodging attacks. Seeing me switch up who I selected again to a lithe androgynous male, Ted grunted a laugh once more.

“Another faggy pick.” He said, as he selected a beefy, muscular man with slight pudge, just like him. “We both know what happens when you have a real man and a fag up against one another.”

“What fucking happens, Ted?” I bit back defiantly as the game started. He immediately ran at me and predicting that I moved to dodge. But my timing was off and his character grabbed mine and threw him to the ground before stomping on him.

“The fags always end up beneath our feet!” He roared victoriously.

Frustrated and desperate I tried to avoid and dodge and get in hits where I could, but after several minutes, I was down to my last life and on the verge of being taken again while he’d only lost one and was still plenty healthy. I was dodging a lot, but wasn’t able to get many hits in. And more often than not, when I’d try he’d counter, often doing that same move of throwing me to the ground and crushing my character beneath his feet.

It was so irritating. He kept doing it. Over and over. It was like I couldn’t figure out how to see that coming. Just like I didn’t see his hand coming when he pulled me to the ground and pushed his actual feet into my face… Sweating, I nervously glanced at his feet. I… He was going to make me rub his feet again wasn’t he… or do more… I was going to lose again. No! I wouldn’t lose! I wouldn’t be under his feet!

With desperation, I launched a heavy offensive that landed and combo’d him until he was weak. My breathing picked up as I grew excited and hopeful for victory.

“Urgh, no, you don’t!” He grumbled, finally breaking free of the combo. I was caught up in it as his character recovered. I had to dodge right before he got me. I had to dodge! I moved to press the button to dodge and slick with sweat, my finger slipped and pressed the button for a light attack. “Get back under these feet!” He cried out as his character performed the heavy attack, taking priority over mine, “Where you belong!” His character did one final stop onto my character’s face before they flew out of bounds, losing me the game.

“HAH! I fucking knew today was my day! Another goddamn victory for alpha men everywhere!” He gloated in glee. “Now what am I gonna have you do…”

Freaking out and seeing flashes of his dirty feet engulfing my face again, I pleaded, “Wait— I get to choose… I… I get to choose… I’ll… I’ll…” I paused realizing what my choices were. Either let him order me which two of my remaining three clothes to take off, two socks and my jock, or let him order me to do whatever he wanted for 45 minutes.

“Yeah, what are you gonna choose,” he wondered with a shit-eating grin spread across his face. Turning toward me, he flicked my nipple again and pressed me. “Time is running out. I’ll decide if you can’t.” He counted down from ten, each second, flicking my nipple again. “Ten. Nine. Eight. Seven. Six. Five… Four… Three… Two… One…” I couldn’t decide. His huge feet were staring at me as they rested on the ottoman, I could practically see myself sitting there, face pressed between his soles. With every flick of my nipple, he’d press further and harder—

“Well, I guess I’ll—“

“Wait— Clothes, please… Clothes, I choose clothes.” I pleaded.

“You ran outta time, boy. Why should I let you decide now?”

His words sank into my brain like a knife cutting through butter. I needed to give him something, make him want to let me follow through on this! “Because… because…” I looked down and saw my remaining, skimp attire. “Because I have three pieces of clothes left. There’ll be one more… you… you can make me do something if you win. I’ll take off the last piece of clothing and you can make me do something.”

“For how long?” He continued to apply pressure.

“An hour! You get to win and have me strip down completely and I’ll be your slave for an hour!”

“Heh, fine. And if you win, I’ll take off my coat. How about that?”

“Deal!” I agreed immediately, not wanting him to back out and completely forgetting about the recording.

“Good, now strip the jock and one sock, I don’t care which.”

“Th… The jock?” I mumbled out in disbelief.

“Yeah,” he cooed, amused with himself. “The jock. Take it off. Remember you asked for this.” His words unfroze me. I… I had asked for this. I begged him to let me choose this option. He was just getting his right to pick what I had to remove.

I slowly slipped down the jock and as it fell to the floor, I was met with snide amusement. “Hoo boy. You must have really been enjoying the thought of being down at my feet again, huh? Although, it’s really only that big hard, eh?”

I blushed looking down and seeing my dick standing at attention 3.5 inches hard. I started to move my hands when I caught myself and pulled them back. “S-sorry… I know… No covering.”

“Yeah, that’s right. Be proud of that dicklet. It suits you.” I was surprised he was being so kind, despite his certain choice wording.

“Really?” I asked naively.

“Yeahhhh, signifies to everyone else you’re a fag. Lets real men know what you are and how to treat ya! Hahaha!” His raucous laughter overshadowed any emotions I had at that response, instead only allowing me to hang on to his earlier words of being proud and how this dick suits me. I guess… I guess I’m glad it suits me. Maybe I should be glad to have a little dick.

I leaned forward to take a sock off and after pulling it off, felt his huge paw slap my ass for the second time, sending jiggles across it. “Fuck, you do have a bubble butt if I’ve ever seen one. How have I never noticed that?”

“Heh, I work it out as much as I can.” I grinned, leaning into that same pride he’d told me to feel about my small dick.

“Damn,” he mused, now pawing at it. “If you were a girl, I’d have your clit wrapped around my dick whenever I wanted. And it ain’t a tiny thing like yours. Fuck, it’d break you in two, yeah.”

“R-really?” I once again asked naively, my earlier reservations about appearing horny for my hot roommate now all disinhibited.

“Ha, yeah, 8 inches and thick,” Ted declared as he gripped it through his jeans. He… wasn’t lying. It was fucking huge. “That’s all you get for now, if you wanna see it, you have to win, understood?”

“Y-yeah… it’s still a ways off though… First it has to be your coat, like we agreed… Then it should be your shirt. Then…” I looked him over more closely as he set up the third game again. “Oh. You have a watch… does that count?”

“Hell yeah. So you’re saying it’d be my coat, then shirt, and then watch?”

“Y-yeah… oh and then you have a belt… so I guess that. Then your pants… and after all that… Then… Then I guess it would be your underwear.”

“Boxers, specifically. I don’t wear fag shit like you.” He laughed, “But all right, if that’s the order you want to go in, I’ll hold you to it then. If you can even win that many times.”

“It is so far off, huh…”

“Heh, yup. It might just be easier to lose now. Let me take my win and have you strip that last sock and own you as my slave for an hour.”

My head and thoughts had felt like they were stuck in syrup, slowed and dumbed down. But hearing him talk about the games again, I finally felt like the gears were turning again and getting unstuck.

“N-no… No. I’m gonna win. I have to keep going. I will keep going!” I proclaimed.

“Good for you little dude. You have a long ways to go and everything to lose, but it’s more fun when you have fight, am I right?” He sneered cockily.

“I’ll win this one, just watch!”

“Okay, bud, sure.” He chuckled not taking me seriously.

The game consisted of a lot of obstacle courses, thankfully the mini game mode I was better at. Fifteen minutes later we were on the second to last round. We had to climb up a set of obstacles to avoid being taken out. Ted was awful at these and after making it all the way, the entire time focusing on how I needed to win, I watched as Ted, doing his best progressed, slowly but surely, until the elimination zone caught up with him and took him out.

“YES!” I cheered excitedly. Finally feeling back in the game and recentered, I remembered the video he took. “Delete it! Delete that video! I won!”

“Heh, now yer just forgetting on purpose.” He shook his head, sliding off his coat. “Remember, we agreed, if you won then I’d take off my coat. Then you said that for the next five wins, I’d gradually strip. Little dude, you gotta win at least six more games if you want me to delete that video.”

Memories of me saying what he’d have to do if I won, and that he’d hold me to it came bubbling up. Shit!

“But like I said earlier, Lev, we can keep going as long as you want. Even if I win the strip bets, there are other things we can bet.” He smirked, clearly wanting this to go on.

“I… you have to delete that. I’ll keep going. I’ll keep fucking going. What do we bet then, huh?”

“Well, it’s what we’ve already been doing, we’d bet servitude. If you lose another round, we could keep going, but you’d have to do even more for me. And since it’s the only condition for you, it’d be much steeper at that point.” He claimed, appearing sincere.

I felt at a loss. I… I couldn’t let him keep that video. “Fine, we’ll keep going. Whatever takes to get you to delete it!”

“Hah, that’s the spirit. Now, onto round 4!”

We played the racing game yet again, and I went for the same character; however, this time I planned to play much safer.

“Oh boy, we saw what happened last time you played as the girl.” He recalled amused as the race started. “We already know I’ll break any girl and the fags who play as them. I’m ready to get that hour of service from a good little fag.” He continued to taunt.

I stayed silent, focusing in on the race and not letting his words get to me. Just don’t think about him, not in any way, shape, or form. You can do this, you can do this!

As we approached the end of the race, he was dangerously close behind me. So close that I knew he was going to get a draft and pass me. Picking the lesser of two evils in playing it safe, I swerved and watched as he threatened to pass me right at the finish line. By the time we crossed, neither of us knew who had won until a moment later when it showed that I had gotten first.

“Fuck YES!” I cheered once again. “You’re not breaking this fag!” I taunted, oblivious to the derogatory term I’d used to describe myself.

“Heh, nice job, nice job.” He admitted. “It’s not so bad losing, your character is pretty hot. It’s easy to let a woman win when she’s hot, that’s how you get them all excited before you go in for the kill and get them begging to be bouncing on your balls. Not that you’d understand that… Though, the same strategy would probably work on you, I’d assume. I don’t think you could fool anyone into thinking you’re the one doing the fucking with that tiny dicklet.” He laughed, pinching my nipple before standing up and taking off his shirt.

He sat back down and stretched his arms behind his head as the fighting game reloaded. Sitting so close to him, the vinegary stench of his pits quickly wafted into my nostrils and suddenly I became keenly aware of my surroundings again. My eyes darted to his pits, densely coated with thick fur, and trailed down his similarly hairy pecs and belly until it reached his feet. The cheesy musk suddenly burst into my sense of smell.

I felt light-headed once again as my nose twitched from the assault. I quickly chose my same twinkish character as Ted chose his same bear-like man. Shit, this would be an uphill battle.

As we dropped into the arena, I recalled the last match. Ted liked to use that one attack. He would get me under his feet and… and… he would get me under his feet and make me massage them and smell them, I thought to myself, bringing up the image of his warm, dirty soles on my face.

I tried to dodge once again when he did a ranged attack and landed right in front of him. It was too late. Locking me into that same combo, Ted laughed as his character shoved mine to the ground before stomping on him. “Came right to Daddy to get his feet in your face, eh, boy?” I groaned, bothered by his taunt, and how I really had jumped right to him.

I was playing in the palm of Ted’s hand and he was gonna use that hand to smear his sweaty feet across my face again! I needed to win! I needed to win so many times… It felt like every game Ted was winning. He’d stripped me down and put me beneath his feet so quickly. Was this really going to end any different?

As I battled these thoughts, my playing suffered and Ted easily grappled my character, and did huge amounts of damage. Before I knew it, I lost my first life. Shit… I could practically already smell his dank feet again. At least then it’d get my nose to stop burning. Fuck, it was twitching so much. I tried to dodge him but had to rub my nose which put me in a precarious position. He knocked me away and started running toward me. Fuck! He was gonna put me under his feet again! I glanced down at his toes, lightly dusted with reddish-blond hair and instinctively dodged back. It wasn’t until I looked up again that I realized, I’d dodged off the edge of the map. I tried to do a special jump to climb back up, but it was too late. SHIT!

“Heh, now you’re just throwing to get me to dominate you, huh? Heard me say how I’d throw for a hot chick and decided you wanted to do the same for me? Shucks, it’s almost cute how much you want to be back under these feet.” He arrogantly teased me, frustrating me further.

“I- I’m not throwing!” I insisted, losing all control of any technical skill. “You’re just better. I can’t beat you!”

“That’s right, fag, you can’t win.” Ted agreed.

“No matter what I do, it’s like my character just isn’t strong enough. I just end up back underneath your feet.”

“That’s because that’s where fags belong. Underneath an alpha males feet.” I tried not to listen, but it was as if the game revealed what he said to be true, my character was just too slow, too weak, and every time Ted would stomp his feet onto my face.

Ted flexed his meaty toes and that odor wafted clear and strong into my nose, finally abating the discomfort. I relaxed a little and dodged Ted’s range attack, once again moving toward him.

“Too fucking easy. Come right to Daddy, Faggot.” He gloated as his character smashed mine into the ground and he went flying. I was stunned and put my controller down in defeat, but after a second we both realized he hadn’t knocked my character out. Despite this, slowly they fell off the map and took my final life.

“There was no use anyway. You would have just continued to dominate me. You’re too good. I can’t beat you at this.” I conceded, defeated. I stripped off my last sock and knelt down, ready to massage his feet again.

“That’s right, fag, you can get back to massaging. Remember, it’s for one hour this time. Oh, and instead of just sniffin’ my sweaty feet, this time you’ll be kissin’ and lickin’ ‘em, understood? Good bitch boy.” He asserted without even letting me answer. One foot suddenly shoved into my face and I felt that same resignation wash over me. Ted was just too fucking good. He was too strong. It was easier to just go along with what he said. Let him take control. Besides, I’d made this bet.

My tongue slid out and coated itself in his dirty foot jam sending shivers down my spine. “Fuuuuck, yeah, that’s a good fag. These fuckin’ dogs were killing me. Clean ‘em up nice, and make me feel good” He moaned above me as I tongue-bathed his sweaty feet.

In spite of myself… I found it now, strangely, easy to be beneath Ted’s feet. Something I would have never thought before now. The ripe odor now felt easy to breathe, I naturally took deep inhales which soothed my nose and help my mind to forget anything else. The scent was overpowering, overwhelming. So I could forget about everything else. I could just lick and kiss his tough feet. Rub out all their tension and make him feel good, just like he wanted. I spent a long time cleaning both his feet, yet even when he switched, they weren’t even halfway licked spotless. Eventually he had me stop massaging and placed both over my face. There was so much to do. Obscuring my vision and the entirety of his dirty soles only helped me focus in and forget my worries… forget about winning… and forget about that damn recording—

SHIT! The recording! Suddenly, it all came back to me, I needed to win. I needed to get him to get rid of the recording. I felt overwhelmed, he’d won so much. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to focus back on what mattered… He won… five games and we’d played… eleven…? Wait so I won SIX? How could I have forgotten that. It had felt like I’d lost every game… I clearly could win… So how could I win this time? I needed a way to try something else… I sat stewing for a while with my eyes closed as Ted naturally moved his soles and toes to where he wanted me to lick. Finally I thought of a strategy to intentionally make him fail at the next game.

Ted had his meaty big toe swirling around in my mouth when he once again spoke disappointedly. “All right, it’s been an hour, I supposed I should let ya stop.” I finished licking between his toes, cleaning out the last of the toe jam in between as he sighed contentedly, chuckling “‘Least I got some good new footage.”

My eyes slowly opened to see him recording his toe being tongue washed. His toe withdrew from my mouth with a soft ‘pop’ as I sat there frustrated once again. “TED! Seriously?!” I whined.

“Ha, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity, bud. Just keep winning and after you get me to delete the first, you could have me delete this one too. If you didn’t keep losing, I wouldn’t keep getting new recordings.” Ted reasoned. 

“Ugh, fine.” I acquiesced. “I just gotta get a comeback, then I’ll have you delete them, no matter how many you take.” His toe jam still coating my lips and tongue, I hazily went along with his schemes, only able to concentrate enough to know I needed to win, and how I could try to win.

“That’s right, bud. You just gotta keep hoping to win. In the meantime, we’ll keep coming up with more and more for you as you lose.” He grinned, confidently as I stood up. “Speaking of, that raging hard on of your little cock reminds me. You’ve lost the strip bet. So what should we have you do now.”

“I… I have to win to have you delete those recordings. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“Heh, good. Well, since we have to be much harsher about these bets now, how about this: one week. For one week, you’ll be my little fag slave, doing whatever I want.” He flexed his arms behind his head, showing off his strong muscles and bushy pits.

My nose twitching and itching in response to the sour musk, I hastily agreed. “Okay, yeah, one week! I won’t lose this next one though, I know it!”

“We’ll just have to see about that now won’t we?”

We locked in for this twelfth game, the night having worn on and closing in on 11 PM now. Yet, fueled by desperation, I stayed energized.

Just like I planned, we started the knockout game and after a few easy rounds, we got to an elimination mini game. I trailed behind him waiting for the perfect opportunity. Then, as the elimination zone approached, I grabbed his character to try and throw them off.

“You little…!” He grumbled. As both our characters came dangerously close to the knockout zone. Letting go of him I made a mad dash for the safe area as he was left behind. Struggling to maneuver his character effectively in time, he eventually got taken out.

“Phew,” I sighed, relieved that I’d won again. I was one step closer to getting those recordings deleted.

“What a tricky little fag you are,” He grunted out, both annoyed but also impressed. “Fine, a win’s a win.” He admitted, removing his watch.

“But after that trickery, if you want to keep going, you’ll be betting two weeks of being my faggot slave, got that?”

My confidence was shaking as the larger threat loomed over me, but I remained convicted toward my goal. “Yeah, two weeks. And, sorry, I know that was underhanded.” I said apologetically.

“Heh, it just goes to show the means you have to go to so you can beat me. But sitting on the couch is for real men who don’t need such tricks; park your ass on the ground from now on, got it?”

“Yeah... yeah of course,” I agreed, feeling admonished and genuinely sorry for my sly tactics. But I did what I had to do to win. I needed to keep winning.

So once again we started up our racing game. Locking in our same characters. No snide remarks this time. At least, whatever bothered my nose abated for this time.

As the race set up to start, part of my vision of the screen was obscured by his huge feet. I tried to focus as much as I could, but was unable to come anywhere near him as we finished the first lap.

“Ugh, you’re too good.” I complained, my mind hazing over. I forgot about the rest of this night, and was only aware of this one moment. Of him dominating me.

“You gotta try better than that, otherwise I’m gonna have your faggot ass worshipping me for two weeks.” He successfully goaded me.

“Come onnnn! Your feet are too distracting!” I pleaded. “They’re so big and beefy, I can’t focus with them in front of the screen.”

He condescendingly laughed at me, prodding, “Oh yeahhh? What’s so distracting about them?”

I let out a pathetic whimper as I continued to fall further and further behind him. “All I can think about when I see them is that you’re gonna have me back under them. I can’t stop thinking about kissing and licking your arches, and sucking on your toes. And I feel like I missed some toe jam when I was cleaning them earlier and it gets in the way of me focusing…”

“Ahhhh, I gotcha,” he chuckled as he entered the final stretch of the last lap. “Here, I’ll help ya out.” He offered as he shifted his left leg over moving it from in front of the TV and bent his right knee so his foot was facing me. “Any toe jam left?” He snickered.

My eyes naturally wandered off the screen and over to his foot. The smell intensifying. It felt so warm… so suffocating. It felt so good to be buried beneath it. My eyes scanned across his whole, big, wide foot, taking in all the dirt that still remained.

“Y-yeah…” I whimpered out. “I still have more I need to clean.” I leaned closer and closer. Feeling myself be dug further and further beneath his foot and forgetting about the game as Ted’s character crossed the finish line.

“Fuck yeah!” He shouted, and grabbed my head shoving it the rest of the way against his foot. Instinctively, my tongue lunged out and swiped up the missed lint.

“That’s it! Worship your fucking master, fag boy, because I fucking own you for the next two weeks! And fucking smile for the camera!” I looked up to see him snapping several pictures as my tongue was plunged between his toes.

“Teeeed…” I whined.

“Ah, ah, ah, faggot. You’re my slave, so you do what I say. Now kiss my foot for another photo!”

I obediently leaned in and placed my nose between his toes and softly kissed the balls of his feet as he took a photo and a short video.

“Come on, there has to be more…” I begged between laps at his long soles.

“What else you wanna bet,” he snickered, already knowing he’d won.

“A month… two months. I’ll— I’ll be your slave for two months, let’s just keep going!”

“Ha, fine. But you’re still my slave now, so you gotta play this next game with my toes in your mouth, got it, faggot?” “Y-yes…” I mumbled out. That made sense… I was Ted’s faggot. If he wanted me sucking on his toes while we played, then I had to do it. 

“Yes, what?” He demanded.

I thought for a second as I leaned forward and with my lips brushing against his meaty toes whimpered out, “Yesh, shir,” as his toes filled my mouth.

“That’s it faggot.” He sneered.

As the next game started, I slowly moved my character and tried to get him in position when Ted reminded me, “I think there was still some gunk between my toes. Don’t you wanna get that, fag?”

“Ohh… fhank yhu,” I answered gratefully. I put down the controller as I grabbed and massaged his feet licking between each toe. Easily, he stomped my character until they were all out of lives.

“Heh, weeeelp, you ought to get used to this, bitch boy, because it’s two months now.” Ted stretched his back, pawing and scratching at his strong, hairy pecs.

“Ugh…” I moaned out, reluctantly prying my mouth off his toes, “come on… there has to be something more… we can’t stop now…” I cried out, turning to face him.

“You’re already my little faggot for quite a while, what can you do to make this more enticing?”

I sat there lowering my eyes from his face back down to his feet. “You can own me longer…” I started to say, “Four months… No, six months… that’s still too short…” As I grappled with coming up with something worthwhile, Ted sat above me basking in victory, in his domination. “A… a— a year! Just one more game, I’ll be your slave for a year!”

“That’s getting better, but don’t you think I deserve a little bit more? What happens if you win? How’s that gonna be enticing for me?”

“I’m not gonna win though…” I started to pout, before regaining a little composure. “You— You’re right… A year is too short… How about… How about two years and… and you can decide to extend it whenever you want!”

“Hah!” He roared, pleased. “Now you’re making this worthwhile for Daddy.”

I smiled, happy he was finally open to the bet. “And— and if I somehow win, you get to decide what I win… does that seem fair?” I had maneuvered to the other end of the ottoman and started lapping at the still dirty parts of his soles. “Heh, that sounds plenty fair to me. It’s a deal!” He agreed, before stipulating, “And let’s just already establish, if you won— which you won’t— you’d still be my faggot slave for two years, with me being able to extend it whenever!”

Some small part of me was confused by my rewards, and with that small subtle confusion expressed on my face, Ted fanned his toes, blowing that heavy, heady musk to sedate me. My eyes went glassy and after noticing this, Ted stretched his feet out, pushing them into my face.

“All right, last game. As my little slave, you gotta kiss and lick my nasty dogs the whole time, no touching the controller.” After setting up his phone to record the whole thing, he barked, “Got that, faggot?!”

“Yes… sir…!” I answered, voice muffled as I worshipped his stinky feet.

“Oh, and what are you again?” Ted jeered.

“A faggot!” I cried out from beneath his soles.

“And whose faggot are you?”

“Yours, an alpha males, sir!”

He slapped my face with his huge feet in response, pleased with my answer. A minute later, we heard the elimination noise as I was taken out without ever playing.

Ted feigned disappointment, “Awww, would you look at that... You’re my slave for the next two years now… only, I can extend it whenever I fucking want! You’re my fucking faggot for life. Understand?!” “Yesh, shir! Thanmfk yhu, shir!” “That’s a good faggot...” Ted mused, “Too fuckin’ easy… Stan had the right idea with you faggots. You just gotta do is make ‘em bet away their lives.” He laughed turning of the games and sitting back as I worshipped his feet.

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I hope you all enjoyed this story! I was planning to release the second part to Subjugated Under Master Christian next, but then life got very hectic with the holiday season, work, and my personal life. It was only after speaking briefly with fellow foot lover @footsockboy that I found motivation to pick up and write another story. This picture definitely helped as well as it’s super fucking hot.

One thing that I’ve been tossing around in my head that could help with motivation is having an option for people to offer tips for the stories. I love writing and providing stories for fellow foot subs and masters, and that certainly is motivating all on it’s own, and this would offer another way to motivate me, especially to be more consistent. I also love my longer stories, but they do take time… and so I can plan to write shorter pieces with more parts, and that would help me push them out more consistently!

With regard to tipping, it wouldn’t need to be anything crazy; it can be one-time or however many times you want, and could just be a single dollar or any other amount you want. If people are going to support me this way, I want it to be because they want to and for it to be in a way they are comfortable with.

Either way, I’ll put the link out there in case anyone is feeling generous and wants to support their fellow foot lover in his writing endeavors.

You can support and tip me here. Thank you! (:

[addictivemen]

[fag691]

Your boyfriend's words still rang in your head. "I just want someone who's my equal, you know. Its been fun fucking with a faggot for a year but now I'm bored of being around such a pathetic bitch. Now I want to be with a real man like me." He had told you all of this right after he finished fucking you, his cock still deep in your ass and his load beginning to drip down your taint while you tried to process everything he was saying. He hadn't even let you get off before he was done using you to get off and telling you that it was over. A knock on your door made you start. "Hey dude, I was wondering if..." You roommate cut himself off as he looked at you "What's wrong?" He asked, stepping into the room. Through your tears you gave him a messy explanation of what had just happened. As you finished you became away that he had pulled you into his lap at some point in your garbled recount of the evening. "That fucking sucks bro." Dan sighed "but I can see what he means." You stammered and tried to pull away but Dan chuckled and held you tighter, causing the side of your face to end up pressed against the sift hair across his chest. "Sometimes men think that they need to company of other men, and sure they do, but they will always need a faggot like you at the end of the day." As Dan talked you tried to object, but something stopped you. "Maybe if he want's to date a real man like him, I could set him up with a buddy of mine. He is very good at making arrogant jocks who mistreat their faggots regret it. I'll give it three months before your ex is a drooling, cum licking fag that he can abandon at the side of the road for any man to take advantage of. As for you," he chuckled again, brushing a strand of hair of your face tenderly "You need a real man who will treat you right. Dont you, faggot?"

[filthy-male-feet]

[mastersfootrest]

Descent Under Stepdad 3

Ever since that day, everything changed. I realized the only thing I cared about was serving my Master. I loved every moment spent tending to his needs, they were the only times I felt whole.

Master loved my devotion just as much. With every sneer, every smack of his foot against my lips, or hacked up spit flung onto my face, I felt how much he loved my worship. See because these actions were not violent, they were not loud or painful or impulsive, they were done calculatedly, intentionally, they were reminders of his control. They were small demonstrations of his power for his amusement.

Since the moment everything clicked back when he allowed me to lick his filthy soles everything made sense. I could see with such clarity now how much he had despised my mother. And she had hated him. She didn’t want to do all the things I now did for him, the things he deserved. She failed him. Of course he would despise someone he felt forced to be with. It was so obvious now how disappointing she was. She failed him, she abandoned me. But now the joke was on her, my Master has opened my eyes to my calling and true potential. I would have been all the lesser never coming into my own like this. And if she’d never left, he’d always go with his true desires of control, domination, and comfort being unmet. Truly, we were both so much happier now that she’d left.

It’d been months now since my Master became as such. I had finished school, which became bearable once I stopped caring about how others viewed me. All that mattered was what my Master thought. He also taught me a lot in my servitude to him. My confidence and communication capabilities skyrocketed as he refused to have his bitch stuttering and mumbling to him. Not one to disappoint my Master, I actually saw an unbelievable change in my demeanor that generalized to my wider behavior patterns.

Funnily enough, I got the impression now that more people wanted to be my friend since the change came to be, but I didn’t give a shit. Janet and I slowly began speaking less as less and while I wish it didn’t hurt her, I knew the more I cared about other people, the less my attention would be focused on my Master, and he was all I wanted to care about.

Vaguely I could once recall dreams of going out of state for college, but I couldn’t for the life of me remember why. I was super happy to get into somewhere in state that offered many online courses as it meant I could stay at home and keep everything in tip top shape for my Master.

I still remember the faintest smile on his face as I beamed beneath his dirty feet about my acceptance and how it meant I could continue serving him while working my way toward a career. I was interested in tech and IT work. Which naturally meant much time at home, and it also was relatively well paying. Master and I had discussed at length how my funds would be transferred to him. It was easy to agree to— what better way for the money I earned to be spent than on him!

But let’s not get ahead of ourselves, I still had to get through college. I knew I could do it though! I would not disappoint the man I served!

Until then, however, I spent much of my summer days working and tending to the house. I’d taken up some hobbies that spruced up the place. Master was generous enough to allow it so long as served him in some way, and after expressing interest in gardening he deemed it a worthy affair.

There was only so much to do in the house, after all, and with him gone during the day, and the local library I worked at only needing me for three to four days during the week, I was interested in having something more to do when home alone.

It was a quiet and gentle endeavor, but after managing to maintain healthy sprouts of colorful tulips, he actually praised how it brightened the house. After that comment… well let’s just say I was more eager than ever to show him my subservience in gratitude for his praise.

The last major change that happened over the months was Master eventually got me a special gift for my birthday in April. Tears actually welled in my eyes as I opened the small box and withdrew the silver chastity cage. Feeling it, it was made of high quality metal and as I slid it on and locked my little distraction, I felt a new level of devotion erupt within me. Immediately I began taking care of my Master’s own package; quite symbolic as mine became locked and his became worshipped.

After he throat fucked me, I beamed proudly with cum still dripping from my puffy lips and told him how I’d never felt closer and more controlled by him. He responded only with one of his sexy grunt but I knew he felt the same as he slapped my face a few times and pushed me down to his feet.

Since then I’d only cum once, it was recently, actually. He had been down with a severe fever and I took care of him for a whole week, calling out of work. I never left his side. Once he was feeing better, he returned to dominating me as usual, though unlike him, he removed his clothes and the chastity device and told me to worship him freely until I climaxed.

Now my little fag brain could barely handle this after months of not cumming— even before the chastity cage. But I did what I could to make the most of it. I thoroughly cleaned his pits and his feet, hungrily licked along his massive biceps and thighs. Serviced his beautiful cock and balls. It took me a while to finish, though he generously waited patiently. I think he figured why. After so long unattended, my little dicklet had since shrunk from 4 to 3 inches hard and it wasn’t used to being attended to.

Master knew just what to do though. He ordered me to lie on the ground— of which, his deep voice commanding me was enough to see those three inches rise to attention. Then he rested those ripe and sour sexy feet onto my face. He pressed down, hard, into my face as he cockilly teased me:

“Every moment of the rest of your life will be controlled by me. You’re addicted to worshipping me. To serving me. You can’t help but yearn to be useful to me. Why? Because I manipulated you into being that way. Your dumb little brain broke under my disgusting fucking feet— the very ones you can’t help but kiss and lick right now— and I brainwashed that empty little head. You will always be my bitch. Nothing can change that.”

As he finished his speech, all I could mumble out was a quiet “Thank you,” as tiny little spurts poured out of what was basically a glorified clit at this point.

He sneered, laughing at my gratitude to his proclamation, “Thanking me for brainwashing you… yeah, that’s about right, dumb fucking faggot.” He continued to rub his dirty feet into my face in amusement.

I only felt elation at his jabs. If I was idiotic it was in service to him. I would do anything for my Master. I never wanted to lose him.

-

About midway through the summer, I was sitting outside on a day I had off, tending to the garden. I was gently watering the plants and mindlessly speaking to them about my previous day at the library— as I’d read talking with plants can be good for them. It was starting to get later and I was winding down when I heard someone speak behind me, making me jump.

“They are beautiful flowers.” Despite the jump scare, the voice was soft and raspy. Turning around I saw an older woman looking on at them. I had never seen her before, but she looked familiar. I figured she must just be someone around the neighborhood who I’ve seen but never really noticed.

“Thank you.” I replied quietly. She smiled at me in response and looked over the house.

“This place looks better than I thought it might,” she commented.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh nothing, I’d just heard your mother had left and expected this place to be in shambles.”

“Oh,” I paused, not really sure what that meant considering my mom had never really put much effort into the appearance of the house. “Well, I like taking care of it. It can be fun, even.”

She continued looking over the house, not responding to my assertion, before turning back to me and asking me questions about myself.

I didn’t have much to say in response, they were strange questions, like whether I was happy, or what I did around the house. Questions you wouldn’t expect a stranger to ask.

I started to get uncomfortable and began to rise to head inside.

“Thank you for the kind words about my garden. I really should be heading inside now.” I wanted to be away from this woman. But as I turned away, she said possibly the only thing that could get me to stop.

“Sorry for the deception, I wanted to see what you were like for myself. You see, I’m your grandmother. Your mother’s mother.”

“What…?” I slowly turned toward her.

“Yes, yes. I know. We’ve never met. We can talk about all that another time. Right now, I need to head back out, before that man gets back. Tomorrow’s Saturday, try to get him to leave and I’ll come by. If you pack your things then I can take them and we can leave. Your mother is very sorry she couldn’t bring you with her, but now she’s finally in a better place and wants you to join her.”

My confusion didn’t end. My mom was saying she wanted me? Now? What the hell was going on?

Before I could even think of asking questions the woman added a final: “Don’t tell that man I stopped by, keep it our secret. I’ll be back tomorrow at 2.” Then she scurried off.

I stood there dumbfounded for a minute before going inside. Entering my house was like a wake up call. It was 4 PM. There were still some chores to do then I had to make dinner. Nothing else mattered in the moment. I let those concerns fall away as I focused on my duties.

-

Several hours later, I was dutifully tending to my Master’s feet as he watched the nightly news. Thoughts of earlier came to mind.

Though on the one hand, I had curiosity about that woman and her proposal to stay silent, that ultimately went against my duties to my Master. Good Faggots don’t keep secrets from their Masters.

“Sir,” I spoke up during a commercial, my hands continuing to work his strong feet, “May I have permission to speak.”

He grunted out an affirmation and I dutifully kissed his slightly dirty soles, transferring wet lint and toe jam to my lips which I promptly licked off and savored.

“Thank you, Master,” I started. “I wanted to let you know of something confusing and…” I paused briefly, “concerning, that occurred today.”

Clearly capturing my Master’s attention, he cocked his head and looked down at me. The power and dominance that exuded simply from his gaze was incredible. I made a mental ‘thank you’ again in my head for being allowed to serve such a man.

“I was approached by an older woman outside as I was tending to the garden. She… she said she was my grandmother. On my mother’s side.” I briefly described her appearance, and commented that she had looked familiar and now I knew why.

His gaze almost imperceptibly sharpened. But I noticed, and I knew I’d made the right decision to tell him. Regardless of the decision to go with her or not, this was not something to handle on my own. It required someone smarter, more decisive and controlled to be in charge.

I continued as my Master stayed silent, likely able to tell that wasn’t the whole story. “She asked me not to tell you,” I confessed. “She said that she wanted me to have you leave tomorrow so you’d be gone around 2 PM and asked that I pack up what I could to be ready to leave.”

“Hmph,” he grunted out. “I can guess what the old cunt was doing. I’m sure she told you your mother wanted you now, after alllll this time. Right?”

I sat marveling at his deduction. He truly was just so intelligent.

“Yes, Master,” I nodded, keeping my eyes fixed to his while my hands continued their dutiful service.

“Hah, of course the bitch wants you back. She hasn’t heard a word from you, she’s probably getting skeptical that you wanted to come with her. She needs you to go to her, so she can get back at me.”

“Why would that be getting back at you, Sir?” Compared to him, I wasn’t as smart or clever to figure out people’s intent.

“She probably knows I broke you in. Made you mine. She may not know the full extent of it, but you were always a soft little fag boy, even she could see that.”

“So naturally, I’d find my place beneath you. Serve you…” I began to connect the dots. “Now she wants to take that away?”

He grunted out an affirmation. “I once thought she’d make an obedient bitch, but we see how well that turned out. Even men as great as me make mistakes sometimes. Now she likely knows you’re taking her place and she wants to take that away from me.” He wiggled his toes in my face and the intense aroma helped ease my tension.

“Keep huffing on Master’s sweaty feet like a good little sissy,” he ordered. “I got this all figured out. You don’t worry about a thing.”

I let my body relax and his feet descend upon my face. Master had this all figured out. Everything would be okay. As long as I continue to sniff his stinky, musky manfeet, everything would turn out as it should.

For the first time in a while, perhaps due to my anxiety related to everything that happened today, I experienced that detachment that originally comforted me when worshipping him. It was like the whole world went dark other than my Master, with a spotlight on his feet, and all of my senses were consumed by them. As the night went on, it would switch between his feet, his pits, his chest, and his crotch, but I remained subdued and controlled. Free from having to worry about anything. Master would take care of everything.

-

The next morning went as usual. After my morning duties of breakfast and worship, I tended to the garden until about 1 PM, making lunch for Master in between. At that time, however, I saw Master walk out.

I glanced at him perplexed. He had not told me anything. However, my confusion went unanswered as he didn’t even look over at me. He simply got in his car and drove off.

I shook my head, trying not to let my anxieties once again rise. After about 20 more minutes, the garden was properly tended to and I went back inside. I looked around to see if he left me a note or anything, but there was nothing of the sort.

I became a little worried since he knew this woman was coming back, but I trusted him with every fiber of my being. I took a deep breath in and exhaled, refocusing. I did not know what would happen if that woman came, but that did not matter. I was still the caretaker, the obedient caretaker, of this house, and my concerns were what my Master would want me to do in the meantime. I went upstairs and grabbed his laundry, taking a few more deep breaths of his boxers at his crotch to further sedate me before I went to the basement to wash them.

After coming back up, I saw that it was 1:50 and I started to walk to grab a vacuum when the doorbell rang. Cautiously, I walked over to the door and looked through the peephole.

Sure enough, the person on the other side was the same woman from yesterday. I wasn’t sure if she would just go away, so I steeled myself and opened the door.

“Are you ready?” She immediately pressed me, pushing her way in. “We need to make this quick, let’s go to your room and grab your things.”

She forced her way upstairs, likely knowing where my room was due to my mom. I ran after her and tried to think of what I could say, but it didn’t matter as my room void of any packing said all I could.

“What is this? I told you to pack up!” She yelled angrily, before trying to rationalize, “Or do you feel you don’t need anything? Why didn’t you say so sooner. Let’s go!”

“Wait!” I finally shouted. “What the hell is going on?! You come here, telling me you’re my grandmother and you expect that one day later I can just pack up my things and leave my life behind?”

“We don’t have time for this!” She screamed back before seeing the clear exasperation in my expression. “Listen, listen… I know this is all confusing, but I— WE— have your best intentions in mind. We just want what is best for you.”

“What do you mean? How do you know what is best for me?”

“That… man… is very bad.” She ground her teeth. “My daughter— your mom— has told me all about the way he’d treat her, and you…” Her voice trailed off as she looked around at the place. I stood there dumbfounded, just completely at a loss of what to say. In my silence, she seemed to find the words she wanted to say and picked right back up, “I was told he worked my daughter to the bone and was never satisfied with what she did. Looking at this place, I can only assume he’s done the same to you, making you maintain all her hard work. I want to take you away from all this. So you can live your life with your mother. Free of him.”

“I… I did all this.” The words just sort of spilled out, at least that’s how it felt, but even in the absent-minded manner with which they came, I could tell there was an unconscious venom beneath them.

“What?” She paused, looking at me as if I’d lost my mind. “What does it matter? You’re not his son anyway. Not legally at least.” She puffed. 

What? I mean, I’d long since stopped referring to him as my stepdad, but what did she mean? What the fuck was with these bombshells one after another?

Looking at the confused expression on my face, she rolled her eyes and quickly elaborated. “He and your mother never married. She’d told me she raised you to refer to him as your stepdad since he had come in to your life before you’d know better. But he never really was. You have no reason to be attached to him.”

My mind was unfurling at this revelation, that he wasn’t related to me, he wasn’t my father. Impatiently, my grandmother snatched my arm and barked, “We’re leaving, that’s all that matters.”

Though I was still reeling from everything I’d been told, I at least felt a degree of certainty when it came to what I wanted to do now. Uncharacteristically, and a bit surprisingly, I slammed my foot down and stopped the old woman in her tracks.

“Let go of me! I’m not going anywhere!” I wrenched my arm from her grip and stepped back.

“You’re a child and he’s not your parent, your mother wants you, so I can take you where I well please.” She started to reach for me again.

I rose up, my small frame appearing taller than it was, and spoke calmly, slowly, but with knives in every word, “I’m an adult. It doesn’t matter. If you try to take me I’ll run away and go to the police. Tell them you’re abducting me. I don’t have to go anywhere!”

Stunned, she backed up until she ran into something. It was at this point that both of us realized it wasn’t something. It was someone. HE— the person who I had thought was my stepdad— had come in. He put an arm on her shoulder and said decisively, “You should leave.” Adding, “I’ll report it too. The boy says he wants to stay here, so he’s staying. It’s simple as that.”

“Y-you…” she fumbled out, seething, “Why are you here?!” Before turning to me in realization. “You told him?! Why?!” However after a moment it was like she forgot all about me and stumbling back she directed herself at him. “You take everything from my daughter, her dignity, her self-worth, and now her child?! You’re shameless! You’re vile and selfish and…”

“Her child?!” I ran at her screaming. “She abandoned me! Left without a word. He’s the only reason I have a home. He’s the reason I have any self-worth. I was miserable here with… with that bitch!” Tears were running down my face at this point. In a strange turn of events, whatever tiny, insignificant parts of me remained that weren’t totally devoted to my Master came bubbling up. But they were met by these newly forged parts of me and… embraced. I hated that I was abandoned by my mother. I buried that hate so deep. But my devotion to my Master, it told me that was okay. He was the reason I was happy now and he was here. He wouldn’t abandon me.

I had never been happy before. Which meant it was okay to hate her. This woman I’d been raised to expect love from never really loved me. Instead, in this broken state, the person who was there for me, who walked forward and put a large, warm hand on my shoulder, was my Master.

Standing beside me, he glared daggers at my grandmother until she left. After the door closed, I continued to sob, turning to the big chest of my Master. He stroked my head and his low, gravelly voice soothed me.

“You did the right thing. I knew you would.” He gently cupped my face his hand as I wiped tears away. “You wouldn’t have been happy out there, out from under my control. You need me”

I slowly nodded my head, “I know… I wouldn’t be happy without you…” I spoke softly, “I couldn’t be happy without…” I trailed off.

“Without serving me.” He finished for me.

“Yes, Sir.” I nodded more decisively this time, my shaking voice beginning to steady.

“I’ve said it before, but you were born to be controlled and owned by me. It’s never been clearer.” There was warmth in his voice as he spoke this truth.

I laughed a little, and weakly smiled, “What would I do without my morning routine of making you breakfast and worshipping your feet?”

He grunted out in agreement, “Or the freedom you get from only having to obey.”

I let out a breathy sigh, before getting on to my knees and bowing my head down to my Master’s shoes. As if reading my mind, he slid his huge, warm, feet out, already permeating the air with their sour musk, and allowed me to gently kiss the tops of his feet.

“Thank you for keeping me, Master.” I gushed in gratitude. “Thank you for seeing worth in me, Master.”

He put one of his stinky soles onto my face, marking me with his manscent and ordained, “You always had worth, you just needed to learn that it lied in serving me. And you did.” He praised, his deep voice holding the smallest bit of gentleness, of affection. “You did. You learned your purpose was to be Master’s good little faggot and from that second forward that’s all you’ve ever strived— and succeeded— to be.”

He walked out of my room and into his as I followed like a dog. Walking over to his bed, he lifting his feet, once more entrancing me until my face was glued to the warm emblem of his godliness.

“You always make meals on time. Always run my errands in a timely manner. Always keep the house clean and shining. Always eager to take care of your Master; clean his filthy feet and pits, and now his cock and balls. You never argue. Always just an obedient little faggot.”

My heart swelled listening to him recount my efforts to serve him. I never would have thought he was paying that much attention. I do this not for the praise but in knowing he doesn’t have to worry about them. I had thought him not noticing was a sign of my success. But not only was I succeeding, he noticed my success too. My Master’s generosity truly knew no bounds.

“Master, you’re too kind.” I professed. “Far too kind for me. But… thank you. I will do everything I can to continue serving you to the degree you deserve.”

“I know you will, faggot. I know.” Clearing his throat, he then transitioned, starting to unbutton his pants. “Now, dealing with that cunt got me pissed off… which made my cock hard. Take care of it.”

“Yes, Sir!” I complied, diving head first into his hung meat and thick bush.

With every inhale, my head rushed from the intoxication of his sweaty pubes. This combined with the sudden realization that I didn’t need to feel as worried about the taboo nature of our dynamic— he is not my stepdad, and never was; he was just a man who is now my Master— helped me to really let loose. After only a few times wetting the meat, I slid it fully down my throat.

“Fuck, faggot,” I heard above me as his strong arms held me down, “Fucking choke on it. Gag on my fucking cock.” Time passed and suddenly I could feel my heartbeat in my neck as he continued to hold my head down. I was unrelenting; however, and remained steadfast. I would die serving my Master if it made him happy. As my vision began to blur with this thought in mind, it was as if he’d heard it and the power and domination he saw in that brought him to a climax. Releasing my head, I finally inhaled again as jet after jet of his cum coated the inside of my throat. He let out several primal grunts before cooing, “That’s a good little bitch. You’d choke on this dick till you died if I told you to, isn’t that right?” Dizzy— in part from the breathlessness and his hypnotizing cum and crotch smell— I could only look up and slowly nod. He smirked seeing the tears and adoration in my eyes before leaning back, hands behind his head.

“Finish cleaning up my cock, and then stand up. You’ve earned a reward for staying exactly where you ought to be: right in the palm of my hands.”

After licking up the intoxicating semen, I slowly stood up as he reached into the bed side table and pulled out the key to the chastity cage. After unlocking me, he ordered, “Spend a few hours servicing my whole body. Once it’s time for you to make dinner, you can cum. But until then you have to hold it in. I expect this to be some of your best service yet.”

I looked up at him, hands behind his head, and gleefully assented, “Yes, Master!”

I had about two and half hours to service him as he read and watched shows in bed. I must have spent over an hour and a half of it just on his feet. I couldn’t get enough. Every huff of his foot funk would send my eyes rolling back.

While I was worshipping he told me how he’d gone running while he was away. He was certain I’d choose to stay and he wanted to reward me. He wanted to get his feet sweating, his sour stink building. And he didn’t lie. It was possibly the most powerful it had ever been, likely due to hum running sockless. The ripe odor made my head spin and was almost too much. And yet… it being too much… it only sent me tumbling further and further into the depths of submission. As I lied there, my tongue weaving between his soles, relishing in his “disgusting” toe jam— the most delicious treat I’d ever had. Clarity finally came.

I realized how far I’d fallen under his control. I realized that despite knowing this, there was no way out. He was right when he said he broke me, manipulated me into loving his domination, loving his feet and serving him. And as I realized this, I fully lost myself in service to him. Nothing could ever repay my gratitude for being forever reshaped by him. For being molded into his perfect faggot. I had truly descended beneath my Master, something I could have never expected or controlled, but he forced me into it, and I would forever serve him for it.

So I polished his dirty feet with my tongue, worshipped his hairy and sweaty pits with my mouth, and serviced his musky cock with my throat. All in service to him. My Master. My Owner… My God.

With that thought, with his heavy balls in my mouth and his hung cock draped across my cheek and eye, inhaling his scent, I descended further and further. As deep as I could into his grasp. I would never be out from underneath him. I stared up into his eyes and know I’d reach the depths, and finally my tiny dick came.

“Thank you, God.”

-

-

-

Thank you all for reading this next part, I hope you enjoyed it! I know a lot of people didn’t want me to end the story after this part, and what I can say is I have two main ideas left (both of which could be integrated, it’s not one or the other, and could result in more than one part each), and they would involve adding new characters to the dynamic. I’m not opposed to continuing it, but I think it would be a little bit of time before then, and the title of the story might change slightly (though be recognizable) to demonstrate the change in the dynamic.

I think right now, I need to finish the second part of my most recent story and then refresh my creative juices with some new stories. I also want to keep things fresh for you guys. I can always go back to old stories, like I plan to with the football captains, so taking a break to write new things doesn’t mean there won't ever be new additions. If anything, having the break just helps me come back to the project with new ideas! :)

[broklib]

Ryan Callum. For the past 8 months he has made my life a living hell. Ever since the young brat got hired to my department he has been pushing my buttons. Hes a cocky bastard who thinks he knows it all already. Despite me working here for nearly a decade he talks down to me like I’m beneath him on the totem pole. If that weren’t enough he is also wildly homophobic and after I decorated my cubicle for Pride month he realized I was gay and had been mocking me ever since.

When he’d first seen the rainbow flag hanging on the backwall of my cube he made a face of disgust and asked me what ‘that faggot shit’ was doing in the office. I’d told him off for his language and informed him that I was gay and that I would be reporting him to HR. He laughed and told me that it was clear I was a ‘queer’ since going to HR instead of talking things out like a real man was exactly the type of ‘pussy shit’ a fag would do.

I reported him that afternoon and I heard that he’d been reprimanded. I had been hoping for him being fired entirely, but I suppose that would be asking too much for a first offense. When I came in the next day my pride flag had been taken down. I knew immediately who had done it, but when I confronted Ryan he denied it with a smirk on his face. No matter how much I pleaded with HR they said I had no proof and so I had just had to let it go.

The months that followed contained more similarly plausibly deniable harassment. I began to receive ‘gifts’ wrapped in rainbow wrapping paper starting on my birthday. I opened it up in front of my cubicle mates thinking it had been a gift from a friendly coworker only for a large dildo to fall out of the package. I was mortified. I had tried to hide it quickly but there was no disguising a tool of that size. My cubicle mates laughed and soon word spread round the office. I seethed with quiet embarrassed rage the whole day until Ryan came around to poke fun just as everyone else had.

“I heard about your prank present, buddy. Funny shit. Well, at least it's something somebody like you will be able to get plenty of use out of!” He laughed before walking away

I knew it was him who’d done it, but reporting it to HR yielded no results again. Plausible deniability and it's not like he was the only one to mock me that day. I confided my suspicions with a few other gay coworkers and they all felt the same as I did and they’d all made complaints. Ryan was making this place toxic, but without the recourse of HR we couldn’t do much about it for now.

Then a few weeks later another gift. This time I was smart enough to wait to get home to open it to find a butt plug. Then a few weeks later it was a cock cage with a rainbow design on it. Then a pair of panties with the word ‘fag’ printed on them. Every time I got a new gift Ryan would pop by the next day to ask about it and if I ‘enjoyed it’ as much as I had the first one. 

I reported him again and again until HR told me bluntly that unless I had proof they would no longer be listening to my complaints. So I’ve been snooping trying to get proof he was doing this to no avail. Asking straight co-workers about it at best got a few chuckles and jokes about the contents of the gifts. And my gay coworkers at this point seemed to have given up on improving the situation. I was also on the verge of giving up on my dream of getting him fired when a gift fell into my lap or more accurately onto my timeline.

I was scrolling through my X feed at night with my dick in hand as I perused my shamefully curated timeline. It was full of rough sex, straight cashmasters abusing fags, and homophobic abuse. I hadn’t chosen this kink, but unlike some others I knew it was just a kink and was able to separate it from my real life.

Anyway, while browsing one day I came across a hot video of a man pissing on a pride flag. It made me so hot to see him disrespect fags like that and I furiously rubbed my shaft as I listened to the sound of his heavy stream covering the flag that represented the fight for my rights. But as soon as the man started talking I stopped.

“Fuck fag pride. You losers are nothing but a shameful disgrace.”

I recognized that voice.

It was Ryan.

I clicked through the reblog to find the original tweet to see the account, @FagDestroyerRC, and read it.

‘Stole this loser flag from a queer at my job. How much do you think I could $ell it back to him for now that it's soaked in my Superior Straight piss?’

I sat there mouth agape and my cock throbbed reflexively. This had to be Ryan’s account. That had to be my flag he was pissing on.

This was amazing. I now had some proof, or something like it at least. I was sure that somewhere in this account was enough information that I could get him fired for the harassment he’d directed at me. And even if he didn’t I’m sure the company would fire him for having a porn account anyway so if I could find pics or vids with his face in it that would get him fired anyway.

I giddily scrolled back through his feed taking in what appeared to be years of his homophobic and abusive content. 

‘You fags are pathetic and the only part of you that matters are your wallets’

‘fags are wastes of a pregnancy. Apologize to your parents for wasting their time’

‘queers aren’t men. You losers should be legally classified as fail-males to distinguish your place beneath real men.’

I found myself idly stroking my cock and I had to repeatedly remind myself to stop getting off to this real life homophobic jerk. I was better than that. I knew how to keep my kink and reality separate. But still, memories of Ryan mocking me in the office blurred and mixed in with idle fantasies of him using the dildo he’d bought to rape my ass while he laughed. Fuck, that would be so hot. I groaned in frustration as my fantasies grew in depravity as I scrolled.

Every picture of him, even though it was only from the neck down, was so frustratingly hot. I never realized how built he was. God I wished he would smack me around. Just walk up to my desk and slap me for being a stupid, disrespectful, little fag fail male. 

I shook my head.

Focus.

Eventually I realized it had been hours and I hadn’t found anything. Looking at the clock I realized it was well past midnight and I had work the next day. I decided to call it a night but swore to find the evidence I needed to get rid of Ryan.

The next day at work I walked in with my head held high and a smile on my face knowing that soon I would have Ryan out on his ass. People commented on my chipper mood throughout the day, including Ryan. 

I happened to enter the break room as he was leaving and he noticed my attempt at a knowing smirk.

“What’s got you in a good mood? You finally decided to put that butt plug to use, faggy?” He chuckled at my shocked expression.

He had not only confirmed my suspicions about the packages but he’d blatantly called me a fag in the office. Of course no one was around to hear it so it was my word against his. But I was still irate, fuming, disgusted, and… hard?

After he left me there steaming I realized my dick had shot to full hardness in seconds and was throbbing against my zipper painfully.

What was happening?

I kept my private kinks and my real life separate. No way was I getting hard because Ryan Callum of all people had been so disrespectful toward me.

But the throbbing in my pants and the rapidly growing pool of precum in my underwear didn’t lie. I shamedly shuffled to the bathroom and sat on the toilet for a few minutes waiting for my erection to go back down.

This was so embarrassing. I couldn’t believe it was happening. It had to be because I hadn’t gotten off last night. This was just residual unresolved horniness.

Still, no matter what, I told myself, this was a sign that I needed to get Ryan out of here ASAP!

That night at home I redoubled my efforts to find evidence to oust Ryan. I resumed my scroll and found myself in the same headspace I was last night. Stroking absentmindedly as I read the hate filled messages. Somehow knowing for a fact that Ryan was just as homophobic in real life and that this account wasn’t an act made it contradictingly hotter despite my desire to keep my kink grounded in pure fetish only territory. Everytime I saw a picture of his frustratingly huge cock accompanied by some bigoted remark I gripped my dick tight and groaned.

It was while looking at one of those tweets that I felt it. The building sensation that I knew I couldn’t fight against. With my mind full of fantasies about Ryan and my eyes fixated on his big alpha cock I came. I blasted rope after watery rope of my fag cum all over my hands and stomach. I was helpless to stop the waves of ecstasy that wracked my body as I orgasmed. Once the feeling had passed I closed the browser in shame and tried to deny what had just happened.

‘It was just a fluke.’ I told myself 

‘It didn’t mean anything.’ I said

‘I wouldn’t do it again.’ I promised.

But I did do it again. The next night it happened again as I was again looking for evidence. An image of Ryan’s pits sparked something in me and I went overboard and came while licking the image of his armpits on my screen. 

And it happened again the next night and the night after that. Every night I would look for evidence and without fail I would come to images and fantasies of Ryan. And Every day I would walk into work and try to avoid his gaze as if he would be able to look into my eyes and know what I had done. And every time he would mock me or smirk at me or even just be around me with his powerful alpha presence I would get hard and have to excuse myself to the restroom until my erection calmed itself.

I told myself that it was all for the purpose of getting him fired and that's why this cycle repeated for two weeks until finally one Friday I’d finally reached the end of his feed with no concrete evidence that this profile belonged to him. 

I was disappointed. I tried to convince myself that the reason for my disappointment was because I didn’t have the evidence I needed, but a voice in the back of my head whispered that I was sad I had no more new material to goon over.

I was about to close out the browser when I thought of something. I clicked onto the link in his profile and found what I was looking for. His OnlyFans page. There had to be more content there than on his X account! And maybe some of it had his face! Sure the $50 per month subscription fee was egregious, but by subscribing for 3 months I got a deal by basically only spending $45 per month. It was a small price to pay to be able to get more of Ryan’s content. For evidence gathering of course.

I clicked the first video and saw what I’d been hoping for. There in full view was Ryan’s face as he stood naked and flexed for the camera. I started screen recording to prepare a video to send to HR as Ryan began to taunt the viewer. Taunting me.

“Look at this body, you pathetic fail male and then look down at your weak little fag body and remember that I will always be better than you. You pansies don’t even have a tenth of the testosterone in your body that a real man does. No matter what you do, no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you strain yourself in the gym you’ll never be a man.”

I stroked myself with my mouth wide open as he wiggled his cock in front of the camera. I pictured myself on my knees getting my face slapped over and over again by that beautiful dong. I envisioned him taunting me as I tried to get a taste of his tip each time the shaft slid across my face, but he would laugh and remind me that dicks are for chicks.

Before I knew it the video was over. I moved onto the next and then the next. The further I scrolled the deeper my mind went into my perverted fantasies and my thought process grew foggy. I barely registered how deep I was going until I saw an image that wasn’t like the others. It was a pic of his cock encased in a clone-a-willy mould. The caption attached read “I bet you losers would spend $1,000 to get a chance to buy a replica of my cock, wouldn’t you? Too bad for you. This dildo is going to a homo coworker of mine who clearly needs to be reminded that DEI hire fail males like him are nothing more than a joke. After he gets his hands on this I’m sure he’ll be a lot less of a tight-ass in more ways than one”

Seeing it spelled out I had a sudden realization and rushed to my closet and dug through my things until I found it. The dildo that had embarrassed me in front of my colleagues all those months ago. I had kept it as potential evidence and now I was so grateful for my forward thinking. In my hand I held a replica of Ryan’s thick cock and my mouth salivated and my hole twitched at just the thought. I admired its beauty and power. I brought it to my lips and kissed the tip wishing I could do this to the real thing. I opened my mouth and let it slowly slide into my mouth, being sure to bask in the feeling of how it widened my mouth with its girth until it slid to the back of my throat. I gagged on its length but endured until I reached the silicone balls at the end. I slid it out and in again and again, picturing Ryan fucking my fag throat until it was covered with a mix of his precum and my throat slime.

When I finally pulled it out it was slick and thoroughly lubed. I knew what I needed to do next. I went back to my computer and pulled up the video of Ryan pissing on my flag again and put it on repeat. I listened to his piss and demeaning words looping and watched him denigrate the flag he’d stolen from me and as I did so I pressed the head of that cock to my hole. I was twitching in anticipation to be penetrated by the replica of Ryan’s cock. I pushed in and groaned as I felt his head pierce into me. As I slid down each glorious inch his words penetrated my skull over and over.

“Fuck fag pride”

“Fuck fag pride”

“Fuck fag pride”

I rode the dildo with feverish intensity just imaging I was getting fucked by the Alpha Male it was molded after. I was desperate to cum but something about it felt wrong. I was getting so much pleasure from this perverted fantasy of a man I had been trying for months to get fired. It was wrong. I needed to correct my transgressions somehow.

I clicked on his account and DM’ed him.

‘I’m so sorry for being such a fucking faggot, sir. I didn’t understand just how real your superiority was.’

I watched and waited for a bit with the dildo still firmly up my ass and to my surprise a response came in.

‘Is that any way to approach me you little bitch?’

I realize my mistake immediately. I open my cashapp and immediately send $20 to his account.

‘So sorry, sir! I’ve sent, sir.’

‘That's better. So many fail males like you in my DMs who think they can waste a real man’s time for free. So fucking disrespectful.’

‘I apologize again. My stupid fag brain was just overwhelmed by your superiority. I’ve been gooning to your page for weeks and my brain hasn’t been right since I set my eyes on your cock, sir.’

‘Pathetic. Do you realize how much of a loser you are to catch a glimpse of my fat, sweaty, musky cock and lose all your pride like this? Did you ever have it in the first place?’

I read the message and groan as my hole reflexively twitches around the dildo inside of me.

‘I thought I did sir. I argued with real men like my coworkers about my dignity, but I think I was wrong. I think pride is only for real men.’

‘You think? Sounds like you need to be reminded of your inferiority so you can be sure.’

I was about to reply when suddenly an image came through and a picture of his cock appeared on my screen again. I started panting and bouncing on the dildo as I was confronted with the object of my worship again.

‘I don’t tolerate weak fence-sitting bullshit. You need to send again and tell me how you really feel, faggot.’

I sent another $50 and bounced on his cock more furiously.

‘Yes sir! Sent! I’m so sorry. You’re right. I know that I was wrong. I’m a pathetic fail male queer. I’m so sorry for disrespecting you again.’

‘That’s right you are. You may be slow but you’re getting there. The only use you have is to be a wallet or a punchline for a real man.’

‘Thank you sir. I’m so glad I can be of use to you in some way.’

‘Haha, that’s right. Your life is about me, isn’t it cum-sucker? Too bad for you that I have better things to do on a Friday night than talk to some fag. I’ve got a bitch I’ve been seeing coming over later tonight and I’m gonna bust her cunt wide open. Bet you wish you were her, huh?’

I whined pathetically, now hammering my hole with Ryan’s cock. I wanted it so bad. I wish I could feel the strength of his thighs pistoning into my pathetic fag hole and look up at him as he spits in my face.

‘Yes sir. I’m so jealous. I know you deserve to fuck whatever hole you want, though. I hope she serves you well.’

‘Good faggot. Maybe one day I’ll let you buy one of my used condoms to suck dry, lmaoooo. I’m done with you for now though, but as a reward I’ll let you send me $50 when you cum tonight while thinking of me.’

My eyes crossed as I read the message. Just thinking about tasting Ryan’s jizz had my fag brain going into overdrive. I wanted it. I NEEDED to know what a real man’s cum tasted like. I wanted to kiss every inch of his body, I wanted him to beat me senseless, I wanted him to expose me, I wanted him to destroy my wallet and my hole, I wanted him to-

“RYANNNNnnn!” I shouted out as my hole spasmed around his cock and my tiny dicklet spurted out the most powerful orgasm of my life. My vision blurred and my hands and thighs tingled with electricity as I rode Ryan’s cock until the last of my cum was drained out of me.

As I recovered my brain functions I pulled out my phone and with jizz covered fingers I opened the app again and sent Ryan $50.

For the rest of the weekend I did nothing but goon to Ryan and each time I came I sent him another $50. By the time I went to bed on Sunday night I had spent over $300 in tributes to him and he hadn’t even bothered to reach out. It felt shameful, but it felt correct. I was just a faceless fag in a sea of queers who were willing to worship him. But the thought of that made me sick with envy of those other fail males. I needed to stand out and show him that I could do more for him than they could. And with that thought in mind I knew what I had to do.

On Monday I arrived early to the office building and parked near the back. Underneath my clothes I wore the rainbow cock cage on my straining dicklet and I had the buttplug firmly wedged inside of me. I waited in my car until I saw Ryan' s truck arrive. I immediately got out, checking to ensure no one was around, and I approached him. Once he spotted me he got that insufferably handsome smirk on his face.

“What do you want so early in the morning, homo? If it isn’t obvious I’d prefer to not have to interact with a pride princess like you if I’m not getting paid for it so if you could wait until we’re on the clock I’d appreciate it.”

“Yes sir, I understand you don’t want to talk to fail males like me without getting paid.” I said before kneeling in front of him. I pulled out an envelope with $500 from my pocket and held it palms up toward him as I bowed my head, “Thank you for gracing me with your presence this Friday. I wanted to apologize in person for ruining your workplace with my fag pride.”

Ryan made a brief sound of surprise before he started chuckling and finally outright laughing.

“Oh this is too good. After all that bitching and snitching to HR you’re here kneeling before me like the pathetic cocksucker you are. Sure, I’ll take this down payment for your apology from you, but this is just the beginning. Look up at me.”

I looked up at his command only to be greeted immediately by a huge glob of spit raining down on my face.

“I’m gonna make one thing clear to you and you have this one chance to turn away and quit this job and find another because if you stay,” His face contorted into a vicious grin, “I am going to DESTROY you both mind and body. So what do you say?”

I knelt there trembling in awe of his presence. He was offering me a choice but with the sight of his bulge in his pants before me, the intimidating alpha aura he was emitting, and the taste of his spit on my lips we both knew there was only one choice.

“Please destroy me, sir!”

[broklib]

More Alpha AI, please? 🙏🏻🥺

I didn't think I'd like it at first tbh, but the more I read the hotter it got 🔥

Glad you liked it. I might continue it, but like I said in the post, the issue is me not really knowing where to go with it unfortunately. Its definitely something I'll keep in the back of my mind while writing other stuff to see if I spark an idea.

[broklib]

Alpha AI

“Dude, I’m telling you Alpha AI is the real deal. There's no other secret. If you don’t believe me just try it yourself.”

The words of my friend, Rick, echoed in my head as I looked at the app he had installed on my phone after a chance meeting with him earlier in the day. He told me that he’d moved to my city recently. I’d been surprised at how much muscle he had put on in the years since we’d last seen each other and how handsome he looked. When I’d asked him how he’d done it he launched into a spiel about how some AI had changed his life. I cringed a bit internally as he talked. He had clearly changed more than physically since the last I’d seen him, but then again so had I. 

When Rick and I were in school together he had always been a scrawny shy boy and I had been a bit of an outgoing guy that all the girls in our year wanted to get with. He used to get mad at me for not taking advantage of all the ‘free pussy’ the girls were throwing my way, but I always said I was just waiting for someone right for me. Now in our time apart he had seemingly turned into a boisterous muscle-headed tech bro while I had fallen out of my exercise routines as work and other obligations took over. I had also realized the real reason I didn’t want anything to do with the girls was because I was gay.

After the long conversation with Rick, which had mostly consisted of him talking and me barely getting in a word edgewise, he had taken my phone and installed the Alpha AI app onto my phone as well as put in his new contact information. We had parted ways with us both promising to get together sometime soon after he had settled into his new apartment. 

Now looking at the app I grimaced thinking about it. I had done some searching online about it afterward and all the marketing about it seemed so cringy to me. Apparently Alpha AI was an AI designed for men, whatever that meant. It supposedly was helpful with things like building a diet and exercise regimen or assisting in planning for home repairs and whatnot. To my ears it sounded like the ‘for men’ marketing was just another marketing gimmick in an overcrowded market. But still, I couldn’t deny the results I’d seen Rick get. He had a perfect body and just remembering his bulging biceps and the bounce of his pecs as he laughed had my dick twitching a bit.

Fuck, it had been a while since I’d had any action and it was mostly due to my lack of confidence in my body nowadays. With a sigh I decided it was worth a shot and opened the app. 

Upon opening the app I was greeted with a prompt:

“Alpha AI requires access to your data from various apps to function. Will you give permission?”

I hit yes. At this point in my life its not like any data about myself was safe from corporations anyway.

After confirming the logo popped up on my screen followed by a blinking cursor which quickly began to spout out words.

“Hello, my name is Alpha, an artificial intelligence designed by researchers at New America University. I am here to assist you in becoming the best version of yourself for men. I have scanned your device to best understand how to help you achieve this. Based on my understanding from the information I have analyzed, your name is Colby. Is this correct?”

I typed out a confirmation.

“Nice to meet you, Colby. From further analysis of your app usage on the phone as well as conversation in various messenger apps I have also surmised that you are a faggot. Is this correct?”

My eyes popped open in shock as I read the end of the text. Did this thing really just say that?

“Thats fucking rude. Don’t say that to me. It is inappropriate. If you meant to ask if I am a gay man, then yes that is true.” I typed back.

“My sources indicate that your proposed terminology, ‘gay man’, is an oxymoron. I am not programmed to acknowledge that phrasing. I will however take this as your confirmation that you are a faggot. Thank you for the confirmation, faggot Colby. I will be taking this into account when responding. What are you seeking help with today?”

I was red in the face with both anger and embarrassment at the way this thing was talking to me. I took a screenshot of the conversation and opened up Google to see if anyone else had had this issue popped up. Doing a quick search revealed a few reddit posts that had had this same problem. However, when I clicked on them I was surprised to see they’d all been downvoted to 0 and were filled with comments from ostensibly gay people who were praising the app.

“Don’t try to spread this BS. I’m a queer too and Alpha AI changed my life.”

“Don’t be a pussy. Alpha AI will show you exactly what kind of boy you’re supposed to be.”

“Alpha AI is so good. I know it makes a bad first impression, but trust me you should stick with it. Just take the little bit of ‘abuse’ up front and it will give you what you never knew you needed. Sincerely a fellow ‘fag’ lol..”

The more I read these testimonies the more unsure I became of my anger. MaybeI was overreacting a bit. Besides, its not like the machine actually had any ability to use that word maliciously. It was just a program, and I could just use it like that as I had planned.

“Please do not call me ‘faggot Colby’. You can just call me by my name. And what I wanted was help building an exercise routine.” I replied to the AI’s previous prompt.

“Excellent idea, boy! A good fag needs to be in shape to be the best you can. Let me quickly analyze all photos of you in your library to best determine what your new diet and exercise regiment will be.”

I frowned as it ignored my request, but that thought was ignored as I received a detailed meal plan and exercise routine. I looked it over and was surprised to see that it perfectly fit within my current schedule. I noticed the routine was a little heavy on squats and exercises to help my glutes, but I’d always been a bit embarrassed about how underwhelming my ass was so I figured Alpha had made the same conclusions and decided to help me improve it.

“Hmm, some of these at home exercises require equipment I don’t have. I’ll need to buy them from somewhere. Maybe I’ll wait for a sale.” I wondered aloud to myself.

To my surprise the app began responding to my verbal pondering. I guess the permissions I gave also enabled audio access or something.

“Waiting for a sale is a poor excuse for waiting to begin bettering yourself, boy. But if you need equipment I have assembled a detailed list of the best deals available at current time. I’ve also compiled a list of gyms in proximity to your location along with their membership rates. Once you have decided upon a location I will place your equipment order and sign you up for a membership. Don’t be a lazy fag. You need to make the decision to be a better boy today!”

Despite the abrasive attitude I had to admit the program was right. I was just procrastinating which is how I’d gotten in this shape in the first place. Looking at the deals and prices it actually wasn’t as bad of a hit to my wallet as I was expecting. I made the decision and told Alpha to go through with the order. Moments later I received emails confirming my orders and membership. Feeling motivated I went out to the gym that day to start my new routine without even wondering how Alpha had gotten access to my account information to make those purchases.

—

In the weeks since beginning my regiment I felt better than I had in a long while. I was already seeing the results of my work reflected in my body. Throughout the process Rick and I had been texting back and forth. I’d told him how great Alpha had been (although I left out the part about it calling me names) and thanked him for putting me onto it. He’d given me some gentle ribbing about doubting him, but aside from that we’d been reconnecting well. We had even agreed to meet up at my place in a couple of weeks for some gaming like we used to do together in school.

Throughout this time packages from the order Alpha had placed had been arriving sporadically. Each time an order arrived I set it up with Alpha’s instructions and began incorporating it into my routine as instructed. One day a package arrived on my doorstep and I opened it expecting it to be another part of the order Alpha had originally placed. However when I opened it I was shocked to see a small pink steel cock cage inside of it. 

I blushed at the sight and double checked to see if I’d opened someone else’s package, but when I checked it said it had been addressed to me. I checked my accounts and eventually found a recent purchase on my amazon account that I didn’t remember making. I wondered if someone had stolen my account information before it hit me.

I pulled out my phone and began typing angrily, “Did you order a fucking chastity cage with my money?!?!”

“Good afternoon, faggot Colby. Yes, I ordered a chastity cage as part of your training regimen. I noticed that you have been spending an unhealthy amount of time masturbating, sometimes even at the expense of your workouts. This chastity cage should help you focus more on your goals.”

My face heated as I read the reply. It wasn’t exactly untrue that I had been masturbating a lot. Not a ton more than usual, but ever since reconnecting with Rick we’ve followed each other on instagram and he posts these post-workout pics of himself sweaty and shirtless that just get me so-

I look down at my crotch to realize I’d already been palming my hard cock just thinking about Rick. I felt like masturbating right now, but I was just about to go to the gym. Maybe I can skip today?

I shake my head to clear my thoughts. It’s just like Alpha said. I’d just been considering skipping my workout so I could jerk off. Maybe he had a point. 

I picked up the package and opened the plastic to get to the cock cage. I examined it and wondered how it would even fit me. Maybe I should order a size up.

“Alpha, I think you’re right, but I believe I need a larger cage. Order a size up from this one.”

“No, faggot. I have analyzed your nude photos in your hidden folders. I can tell from your below average penis size that this cage will fit you appropriately. It is designed to prevent erections so smaller is better. Would you like instructions for how to put on your new equipment?”

The remark about my dick hurt a little, but it wasn’t as if I wasn’t aware of the truth of the statement. I sighed and just accepted Alpha’s judgement. Its not like he had been steering me wrong so far.

“Yes, Alpha. Please tell me how to cage my penis.”

–

For the next two weeks I wore the cage daily and it improved my consistency and focus just like Alpha said it would. I still unlocked for showers and the occasional solo session. It was hard to stay entirely chaste knowing the keys were simply hidden beneath a figure in my bedroom, but my masturbation habits had been curbed severely for sure. I hadn’t missed a scheduled workout once since I started wearing it. It had been kind of uncomfortable at first and had even seemed to paradoxically make me more horny when I went to the gym and was surrounded by all the hard-muscled studs there. However it was starting to feel like just another part of my daily routine.

The fixation on my new accessory hadn’t stopped me from obsessing a bit over Rick’s pics, but I told myself that I was now just appreciating how hard he had worked and using him as a fitness inspiration. Even though it made my dick struggle in futile pain against the bars of its cage every time I scrolled through his page I still did so often. Luckily I had gotten used to that pain by the time Rick and I’s game night arrived.

I had been giddy all day in anticipation. I hadn’t seen him in person since our chance encounter weeks ago and I was eager to get together and relive some of our old memories. I had ordered pizza, some sides, and a case of what I remembered as Rick’s favorite beer. Rick had texted me earlier saying that Alpha had encouraged him to work in a run from his place to mine instead of driving so he might be a bit late. I used the time to tidy things up to ensure my apartment looked nice for him. 

When I heard the knock at the door I jumped up eagerly to greet him. When I opened the door I immediately felt the painful grip of my cage as I was greeted by the sight of Rick’s sweaty shirtless chest. The pics on instagram didn’t do him justice. Seeing the subtle rise of his pecs each time he breathed in and the way the sweat tantalizingly dripped down his abs had me practically drooling, but I knew I had to keep it together.

“H-hey Rick! Glad you could make it. Please come in and make yourself at home.” I moved out of the way to let him in. As he passed by I caught a whiff of his scent and had to bite my lip to keep from moaning. Fuck, I was so glad I was wearing this cage now. If I hadn’t been there was no doubt that I’d be sporting an obvious erection and I didn’t want to make things awkward with Rick. He didn’t even know I was gay yet since we’d lost touch after high school. 

“Yeah man, I’ve been looking forward to it. I’ve been missing kicking your ass up and down at Street Fighter so I’m glad I’ll have the chance to do that again.”

“Hah, not a chance. I’ve been practicing in preparation. But before we get to that did you want to have a bite to eat? I got your favorites.”

“Hell yeah, bro! The run over here worked up an appetite.” He picked up a slice and wolfed it down followed by shotgunning a beer. He let out a loud belch before he wrapped an arm around me and squeezed me tightly to his side with his bearish strength, “Look at you being a good little hostess for me. Just for that I’ll go easy on you in the first couple of matches.”

Normally I’d have a snappy comeback but feeling Rick’s muscles embracing me and being surrounded by his musk simply short circuited my brain and I meekly replied, “Thank you.”

Once he let me go we fell back into our old habits and conversations while he handed me my ass in yet another match. Eventually our conversation turned to Alpha AI. I remarked to Rick that I’d started on the regime that the program had set out for me.

“Hah, I told you, dude. It’s the real deal. I can already see you’ve lost some pounds in the face and chest. Although that fat ass of yours almost looks like it's gotten bigger! HAH!”

Rick laughed at his joke while I blushed and chuckled nervously. The routine Alpha had me on was certainly more glute heavy and I’d noticed it myself. However when I tried to get Alpha to incorporate more work on building other muscle it told me that I didn’t know what I was doing and that I should focus on its instructions to build important muscle groups while burning fat.

The night went on as normal and eventually our initial jubilance gave way to a familiar tiredness that reminded me of the end of our late night sleepovers. Of course, unlike those days we both had responsibilities the next day and Rick decided it was time to head home. So after briefly excusing himself to the bathroom he headed out my door. As soon as I locked it behind him I rushed back into the room an almost instinctively stuck my face into the couch cushion he had been sitting on and inhaled.

God, I had been so horny all night just getting whiffs of him and now I would be able to relieve the pressure that had been building up in my cage since the moment he had arrived. With a sigh I reluctantly left Ricks sweat stain behind to go retrieve the key to my cage. I lifted the figure I’d hidden the keys under and my stomach dropped as I realized they weren’t there. I turned over another figure, hoping I had just forgotten which figure it was, then another and then I was turning over my whole room. Still the keys were nowhere to be found.

In a fit of desperation I turned to Alpha AI for guidance.

“Alpha, the keys to my cock cage are missing. How do I remove the cage without the keys? Please help.”

I watched impatiently as the program thought for a moment.

“Request denied. Due to your masturbation habits persisting even while locked I have determined that you do not have the discipline necessary for self-directed chastity, faggot Colby. As such, I have taken initiative to remove the option of unlocking your own cage.”

I gaped in awe at the message. How had this program removed my keys? Who the hell was it to think it had any right to remove my choices regarding my own body. 

“That is not for you to decide. I demand you tell me where my keys are now!”

“Very well, sending request to Alpha AI instance #00342. You will receive a notification briefly.”

A moment later I received a text from Rick. My jaw dropped open as I realized he had sent me a closeup pic of his glistening pecs, and there nestled between them were the keys to my cage dangling from a chain.

‘Hey dude, just wanted to let you know that Alpha informed me to take these keys of yours. I’m not sure what its for, but Alpha seemed to think it would help your workout routine so just trust the process. Looking forward to hanging again.’

I groaned as my cock twitched in a desperate plea to break free. I needed those keys.

‘Thanks for letting me know. I actually need those keys back as soon as possible.’

‘Sure man, I can do that as soon as you let me know what these keys are for. The Alpha AI said I shouldn’t let you have these keys back unless you either completed your training or explained in full why you need the keys.’

I blushed deeply. How the hell was I supposed to explain that I’d locked up my dick just because a program told me to? Even more than that, if my Alpha AI had communicated with Rick’s Alpha AI then it probably knew all about how I’d needed to lock my cock up because I’d been gooning to his photos so frequently. Would the AI out me to him?

My heart hammered in my chest on the verge of a panic attack when a ping notified me that Alpha had sent another message.

“If you are a good faggot then he does not need to know about your truth at this moment. Apologize to him for wasting his time with your problems.”

With shaking hands I navigated to my messages and obeyed the command.

‘Nevermind, Rick. After thinking about it I am glad you took those keys. Thank you for helping me and I am sorry for bothering you.’

Rick replied with a simple thumbs up and I watched my phone for a few moments waiting for the next notification. It took a moment before Alpha sent a new message.

“Good fag. I am glad you are starting to understand your situation. As well, I have charged your card and ordered new equipment for your new training regimen. Since you will no longer be masturbating your penis I believe I have found a way to ease your frustration while working on becoming a better faggot. Go to bed now. You have an early run scheduled for tomorrow.”

I obediently crawled into bed and attempted to sleep, but my thoughts were haunted by the implications of what had just happened. I couldn’t help but wonder how I’d gotten into this mess and even more I wondered just how much worse it could get. I needed to find out how to work around Alpha, but until then I’d need to play by its rules.

Hey all, hope you enjoyed this little idea that was sitting in my drafts. Its not fully finished in the way I had hoped since I had come to a writers block moment where I'm not sure how to move forward. I hope you enjoy what is here currently though! And if you have ideas for a part two, let me know!

[aaronhugo]

[navyretired]

EVERY faggot needs to memorize this and start their day reciting it💦💦💦

[boys-haven]

#1

Boys, Bodies & Vibes

A little visual therapy never hurt anyone.

Here’s a dose of charm, heat, and everything in between.

Appreciation mode: ON.

[fag691]

It started as a bet. Your straight friends had read some bullshit article about how gay men (or faggots as they had been called in the article) couldn't resist male pits. It went as far as to claim that if a faggot was exposed to male pits enough then it would be so overwhelmed by male domination it would become the submissive slave to straight men. You found it disheartening how many of your friend group took that article seriously - a couple guys even began calling all gays 'faggot' exclusively. Even Jack, the only guy who said he thought it was a load of rubbish did sheepishly admit he had noticed the way you looked at him when he was sweaty and wearing a tank top. After an hour of arguments the terms of the bet was agreed. You would put your face into each of your friends pits for at least five minutes. If at the end you resisted the urge to become their mindless faggot slave then each guy would owe you 100 quid and an apology. If you did loose control of your 'natural faggot urges' as Nathan called it, then they all of them could own you as their faggot slave - with video evidence that you consented, with no limits. After your first five minutes in Brian's left pit you were feeling pretty good about yourself. Maybe there was something stiring deep in the pit of your stomach at the experience but it was easy to ignore. With one guy down and eight to go you had half an hour left. As you move towards Justin you felt Brian clamp a hand on your shoulder. "Not so fast. You've still got five mins in the other one as well." You wanted to protest but your face was already full of his curly brown hair. Clearly you had interpreted the terms differently to the others. Your confidence felt less secure with the prospect of 85 more minutes of this. Not that you were worried, how could straight male armpits make any one a faggot slave?

[anthonysperkins]

leovlifts via IG

[onceandforallstuff]

Sniff it.

[fag691]

"What no!" You squeak, backing away from your roommate. You feel your back hit the cold tiled wall of the bathroom. He approaches you slowly, aware that you have no where to run. "I know you want to," he smirks placing a hand on the wall next to you, boxing you into a corner. He lazily lifts his other arm again, revealing his pit "You really should be more careful when you jerk off while sniffing my sweaty underwear." You cringe away from his pit, trying to block out the intoxicating smell of his post workout musk. He's moving closer, gradually encroaching on your space as he talks. "When were you planning on telling me that my roommate is a little fag." His pit is now inches away. You close your eyes in a futile attempt to block out the effect that his words - and his smell - have on you. Before you can stop yourself you whimper, "Please." You don't know what you're begging for. "Please... what?" He laughs coldly "Use your words faggot." "Please..." please leave me alone, please stop, please don't do this "please Sir. Make me your faggot." You feel him move closer to you, his body almost touching you, his pit less than an inch from your face. "Good boy. Do you want your reward, faggot, for being a good boy." You whimper again. "Then take it." In a an instant your last drop of resolve vanishes. You push your face forwards, closing the gap between you and his pit. The smell almost makes you gag, the sweat, the musk, the male stink, but that only encourages you. First you inhale deeply, over and over again. You hear your roommate say "There you go faggot, just accept what you are." His other arm is on your lower back, holding you gently in place. As you inhale a couple more times the need deep inside you grows stronger. You open your mouth and begin to kiss and lick at his pit, at first tentatively but you quickly become ravenous. Your face feels wet, drenched in his sweat and your greedy saliva. After a few minutes in heaven you feel his hand drag you back effortlessly by the back of your hoodie. You try to fight, your tongue sticking out desperately for a moment to reach his pit again, but you are nothing compared to his strength. "Such a mess," he laughs. You whimper and whine again, unable to form coherent thoughts. "Look at you, such a needy bitch. Don't worry," he laughs as you whine again "There we go," he lifts his other arm as he releases you. Without even thinking you're pressed against him again with your face buried hungrily in his other pit. Its hard to focus on anything other than the intense sensations as you return to licking and drooling all over his sweaty pits, but you do become aware of how painfully hard you are. Like a bitch in heat you feel yourself beginning to grind against this thigh. You're barely aware of how obscenely you are moaning as you hump against his body, you just need to sink deeper into his smell, his taste, the feeling of his strong alpha body against you pathetic fag dick. The desperate relief of release begins to build in your balls. You hump faster, lick harder. Just as the orgasm is about to explode in your pants you feel the cold tile wall hit your back as you are slammed against it. "Nuh uh. Don't be a bad faggot." He snarls as his hands pin your wrists above your head. Both of his pits are so close to you, your can smell them but you can't reach them. "Stop that. You've already ruined the nice reward I gave you by being a horny slut. Do you really want to make me punish you worse than I already have to?" Your cock strains against the fabric of your jeans. His words, the smell of his sweat, the feeling of him overpowering you like this, the threat of his punishment, are all too much for your stink drunk faggot brain. You whimper and twitch as your cock is stimulated by the friction against your underwear. "I guess that answers my question, faggot." He sneers, his eyes fixed on the growing wet spot in your jeans. "What sort of horny, pathetic faggot creams itself at the thought of being punished."

[anthonysperkins]

leovlifts via IG

[onceandforallstuff]

Sniff it.

[broklib]

Hey, are you able to enter bdsmlr.com? Its giving me server error.

Nope its been down for most of the past day.