footfetish dude

[subfootboii]

Your brothers never had to ask. You were the oldest and it never mattered, not once, not ever. They'd stretch out on the couch and you'd find yourself at their feet, rubbing and kissing them. Nobody talked about it. Nobody needed to. That's how it's always been in this house.

[amantepiedimaschi]

[please-slap-my-face]

💥👋💥

[whitemalefeet]

A soldier needs his feet worshipped after a long tour of duty

[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.

-

-

-

Did you enjoy this story? You can support and tip me here. Thank you! (:

[mastersfootrest]

Subjugated by Master Christian

Life was pretty great. I had recently moved out of my small suburban neighborhood out of my parents house after years of saving up and landing a job in the area. It took a lot of time, effort, and willpower to save up the money and resist buying other things. But here I was: sitting on the bed in my new apartment, looking out the window overseeing the busy street below. I had always felt more like a city boy in my eyes, the yawning lull of the suburbs often left me to my own devices bored. I was definitely excited to begin life here.

As I continued unpacking the furniture, adjusting the couch this way, that way, debating where to place the bookshelf, whether to have this painting to the left or right of that painting, the day began to unwind, and with it the settling silence in stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of several hours ago. With this silence a new feeling began settling within me too, loneliness. I had grown up in the town I had just moved from. Everyone I knew lived there. My two brothers and sister still lived there. Though I was only a few hours away, it felt like a world away in this moment. I paused my unpacking, growing uncomfortably lethargic, and sat on the couch, throwing myself against the cushions and staring at the ceiling. Exhaustion crept up in but a moment, and I was out.

-

Yawning, I stretched and swung my legs up in the air using the moment on the way down to surge off of the couch in a single bound. I felt more energetic following the night's rest, but I also came to two realizations. One, I was fucking starving. And two, I needed a roommate, and bad. I had seen a bagel place just down the street and after changing my clothes into the first shirt and shorts I grabbed that went together reasonably well, I headed out the door while navigating google trying to figure out how the hell to find roommates.

Obviously, it wasn't like I had been using google very long before I arrived at the bagel spot, but from what my short search enlightened me to was that this would likely be a longer process than I was expecting and with a degree of trial and error as I reached out to random strangers. I sighed, standing in line while trying to come up with a post when the person in front of me turned around after ordering and nearly bumped into me.

"Sorry bro." He apologized before looking me up and down, laughing "Shit man, nice shirt, don't see something like that everyday." I glanced down at my shirt, actual realizing for the first time which tank I had put on. It was a gag shirt my oldest younger brother had got me, it was art work for Lady Gaga's 'Fame Monster' album but in the style of a black sabbath or metalica-esque band. He liked heavy metal while I preferred pop or alternative music, so while it wasn't really in the vain of my interests, I wasn't going to turn down a Lady Gaga shirt. And, I mean, the guy was right, it wasn't something you necessarily see all the time, especially since this specific shirt had been custom made.

"Hey, thanks, yeah my brother got it as a present." I candidly replied.

"He must be the Lady Gaga fan, huh?" He remarked, with a cheeky wit.

Understanding that he must be referring to my rather flamboyant voice and demeanor, I read between the lines of his joke and playfully reassured him, "Of course, was it that obvious that I love death metal and screamo?"

Chuckling at my comment he continued walking from the counter before taking a seat awaiting his order. Now my turn, and attempting to not hold the line up further, I quickly ordered an everything bagel toasted with cream cheese and a black coffee.

After being handed my coffee, I took to waiting by the counter where orders were being placed once completed until a seat opened up conveniently beside the man from earlier. I walked over to the open seated while continuing to ponder over my previous concerns regarding finding a roommate when the man once again interrupted my thoughts.

"Okay, now I definitely wouldn't have taken you for a black coffee kinda guy, this may not be a starbucks with all that frou frou shit, but they have some other pretty good options."

My turn to laugh, I placed my phone down taking another sip and reassured him, honestly this time, "Thanks man, but I actually, genuinely, do like my coffee black. Gotta have something to give me enough energy to keep going. Black's the only thing that'll do it, and now I'm just so used to it that I can't have anything else."

"Ha, whatever you say man," his eyes quickly glancing down at my phone. "You looking for a roommate?"

My heart suddenly skipped a beat, holy shit, was this stranger really about to be someone I met by complete coincidence that would change my life forever? Would we be best friends? My head was reeling, and unintentionally I replied back with insane sass, "No, I just like pretending that I am." IMMEDIATELY regretting the unnecessary sass, I apologized, "shit I'm so sorry, I just do that with my brothers--"

However, before I could fully apologize the man exploded into raucous laughter. "You're a funny dude you know that."

Blushing I answered, "Yes, though, I am looking for a roommate. I just moved in the area, yesterday actually. Was able to get a two-bed two-bath at the Clarion just down the street, but well... I've never lived alone."

"Shit, dude" he replied before rising to get his order, when he returned a few seconds later he continued, "you must be fucking loaded or something to be living there, right? You a trust fund baby or something?"

Now my turn to laugh, I refuted his assertion, "Nahhh, I'm my parents are better off than a lot of people, I guess. But I got this place and everything in it with my own money." This time, I rose from my seat after finishing my thought to get my bagel.

After sitting back down, he confided, "Well shit man, I mean I know you just met me, but I've been looking for a place. My girl and I just broke up. We've been trying to be diplomatic about the place we were living, but we both can't really stand being around one another right now. She left for her parents to get away for a bit, but asked that I try to find a place while she's gone."

"Damn, I totally get it." I comforted him. He stroked his jaw, while I took a few minutes to really contemplate things. I mean, what the hell, we can see where this goes. "Okay, I'll need some things from you, records of where you lived, and if it's okay, I'd honestly like to speak with your ex just to get an idea of what you're like. But I will say, I can be pretty good about telling when someone's just bullshitting me because they don't like the person in question. So I promise if she tries to do that, I won't take her seriously."

With a huge grin on his face, he rose from his seat, "Perfect, dude! Does now work for me to come see the place?" After assenting, we grabbed our food and coffee and left the store to head up to the apartment.

-

On the way up, he informed me that his name was Christian, or Chris for short, and I told him that mine was Alex. He also provided me with his ex's number. After reaching the 7th floor, we walked down to the end of the long hallway as I removed the keys from my pocket and began unlocking the door.

"Here we are!" I announced, entering the apartment.

After taking in the view, all I heard was "Ho-ly shit, dude. Are you sure you're not loaded?"

"I most certainly am not, but I guess my job is pretty well paying." I chuckled.

"What do you do?" He asked, now likely curious given I was affording this on my own.

"Cyber security," I answered to which he rolled his eyes dramatically. Scoffing, I questioned him, "what was that look for?"

"Come on man, it's like every rich gay dude works in cyber security."

My heart stopped when he said that, I had never said I was gay. I mean I am, but I was shocked he was confident enough in knowing my sexuality to say that... or ignorant enough.

Seeming to read my feelings, he nonchalantly brushed it off, "Sorry dude, I would be able to tell from a mile away. I was just callin' it like I see it, nothing wrong with that."

Well at least he seemingly wasn't a homophobe. "So what do you do then? Lift weights?" I tried to offer as a snarky come back.

Chuckling he asked, "Is that what straight dudes get stereotyped as? I guess it ain't so bad. You're pretty close but just shy of the money shot. Physical trainer." With that he lifted his arms flexing them and his back in a pose meant to show off his physique.

I rolled my eyes this time, but also turned away to hopefully avoid him seeing my face clearly flush with embarrassment. Fuck he was really hot.

"Anyway, you can try hitting up my ex, she should be up now. Mind if I take a look around a little on my own."

"Of course," I replied while beginning to dial up his ex.

True to his expectation she answered the phone, and in a really bitchy manner she demanded to know who was calling her. God, I can see why he broke up with her, I thought. However, despite her initial bitchiness, after understanding the situation her tone drastically changed.

"Oh, yeah," she replied, "you have nothing to worry about. He's not a jackass, just a dumbass. He'll listen to house rules, for the most part. He won't miss rent, I can tell you that. And since you're a guy, I mean you probably won't mind it as much, but he has a tendency to leave his clothes everywhere, that was one thing I couldn't stand. He was literally clean with everything else. He would rinse dishes and put them in the dishwasher, make sure he didn't track dirt in, wouldn't leave trash around the place. But when it came to his clothes, that pig just wouldn't get it through his head." She sighed, before adding one final thing, "oh, and since he's single, I'm sure he's gonna try to be bagging chicks left and right every chance he gets, so have fun with that. But really, he's not a bad guy, we just weren't good for each other. I'm my own person, I have my own shit I want to do. I wasn't there to be his little maid and fucktoy you know. Maybe someone else is fine with that, just not me." Oh honey, you sure know how to talk this bitches ear off. But I got the gist of it. I thanked her and hung up.

Just as I got off the phone, Chris turned the corner with a smirk on his face and inquired, "so what's the verdict?"

"Weeeeeeell, your ex said you're a pig, but otherwise you're nice."

Howling in laughter at that, he quipped, "and she's a bitch, but otherwise nice!" After calming down from his laughter, he admitted, "yeah I wasn't always the best, but I'll try to be better man." He patted me on the shoulder, and I swear I nearly melted into a puddle as he looked into my eyes. "I'll definitely try."

Trying to hold myself together, I gulped hard and squeaked out, "And that's all I could ask of you... roomie."

Patting me on the back, practically knocking all the breath out of my chest, he thanked me profusely before we really began to hammer out the details.

-

-

-

The following weekend after we first met, Christian had moved in. The leasing office at his prior apartment had assured both me and the leasing office here that they has never received any complaints about him and that he had never missed any payments. The week leading up to things was super hectic for me, given this was a new job, although our work can be completed remotely, they wanted me to come in for the first three weeks for training and to get accustomed to everything. Even after he had arrived, although we had hung out, there wasn't nearly as much interaction between us as we would both come home exhausted from our jobs. Chris worked the first half of the week, but then seemed to have off Thursday and Friday, unlike me. However to make up for it, he seemed to work most Saturdays and Sundays with weekend clients. This meant that even on the following weekend after he moved in, we didn't see much of each other.

That Sunday evening, finally beginning to feel a little in my element at work, despite how much was asked of me, and in my new home, I went grocery shopping and planned to make a dinner tonight. Figured I could treat Christian given I kinda neglected him the rest of the week after he had just moved in, and if he didn't want or like my lasagna, well that just left more for me!

After getting home and getting to work, I found myself bored and alone as I sat waiting for the lasagna to bake.

I noticed that true to his Ex’s word, he had been leaving clothes scattered about. With some time to kill, I rolled my eyes and got to picking up after him. For the most part it was a lot of shirts and pants, and many, many socks. Going around actually attending to the mess brought to my attention how it actually affected my environment. Namely, despite not noticing before, it was hard not to be aware of the… scent… his socks had as I picked them up. It was earthy and wet, something that really made my nose scrunch. But I simply sighed, held my breath as best I could, and continued picking up the clothes until everything in the shared living quarters was cleared.

However, when I first stepped into his room, I realized the extent of how messy he could be. Clothes practically covered the entire floor. After putting the dirty clothes from outside his room in his hamper, I was preparing to clean up his room as well. I did have quite a bit of time, after all. As I reached down to grab something, I quickly realized he kept some other pieces of clothing littered here.

Turning my eyes down to my hands, I saw the thing I picked up was a pair of boxers. Initially, I was a little grossed out. But then thinking about who these belonged to… well, Christian was pretty fucking hot. I definitely would not have minded seeing what these boxers covered up.

In the back of my mind, I noticed a squirming little urge. A little voice back there saying that I could bring the boxers to my face, take a sniff. It felt wrong, but damn if I didn’t love dick. Slowly my hands rose to my face and just as they got into proximity to smell, I heard the front door open. My face went flush as I quickly threw the boxers into the hamper and scurried out of his room.

I was worried about what he’d say if he saw me coming out of his room, but thankfully Christian took that need right out of my hands.

“Whoa… Dude, you really tidied up the place. Nice!” He chuckled, taking in the sight. “Shit, you can do my room if you want!"

My face still burning a little, I started mumbling out a response. “Well, um, yeah thanks. I don’t, I mean, maybe I shouldn’t. It’s okay, um…” But barely paying attention to a word I said, Christian just asserted further.

“No really, it’d be awesome if you cleaned up my room. Why don't you do that.”

Nervous, but not wanting to elicit more suspicion, I readily agreed. Besides, I rationalized in my head, looking at the oven timer, I still had another 20 minutes before dinner would be ready. I let Christian know about dinner and headed back into his room as he sat on the couch, kicking his feet up, and put on a game to play.

As I crept back into his room, I tried to focus just on cleaning up the floor as best I could, but that little voice was still in the back of my mind the entire time. After cleaning up most of the clothes, as the timer for the food approached its end, I went out and looked over at him. He was still sitting on the couch fully absorbed in his game. I walked back into his room and there around what little clothes remained was a pair of boxers. I hastily picked them up and giving in to my urges, I once again brought them to my face.

I took a deep breath and felt my eyes roll to the back of my head. I was met with the most manly, musky crotch smell. I couldn’t help myself and kept inhaling. As I did, I noticed there was something else mixed in there. I breathed in as I tried to figure out what it was. It was a more pungent odor and slightly cheesy, but mixed with the smell of his dick, it wasn’t so bad. Finally pulling the underwear away from my face, I flipped it around and looked inside and noticed tucked into the inside of the crotch area was a lone sock.

I felt my stomach flip thinking about smelling his stinking sock and grimaced. Quickly, I grabbed up the last of the clothes just as the timer went off and hurried back into the kitchen.

-

The dinner went well. Chris really enjoyed the food and was super happy with the job I’d done in his room. I definitely didn’t want it to become a recurring event, but it felt nice to hear him praise me.

We spent the rest of the night gaming in the living room, him on the TV with his PS5 and me on my switch. It was really chill and helped to take my mind off of what happened in his room, though I felt pretty guilty smelling his used clothes behind his back.

-

-

-

As the following week started up, my work responsibilities became greater and greater. I was so exhausted after work that I simply went to my room and fell asleep most days. This went on for a few weeks, and due to errands and other responsibilities, even on my days off I was often pretty busy.

Finally, on my first Saturday off, I had some time to myself. After weeks of doing the bare minimum, the place had gone back to being covered in Christian’s clothes. Against my better judgment, I once again spent some time picking up after him, both outside and inside his room. Just as I finished and was sitting down on the couch, he came sauntering in.

“Whew, shit am I glad to be off early. Have I ever told you how crazy this client is?!” He asked rhetorically. “I am exhausted, sometimes feels like they’re working ME out?” He laughed, taking a seat beside me.

I quietly just sat next to him listening.

“Fuck, you did a nice job here. We really should have you doing that more often, right?” He laughed, though I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

“Now, since you’ve had the day off and are nice and rested, why don't you make yourself useful some more. My feet need a footrest."

I felt this strange feeling in my chest as he said that and just stared at him like he was crazy. What the hell is he talking about? After a minute, he spoke up again.

“Fine, I’ll do some of the work for you,” he said as he pushed the coffee table aside. “Now I need a nice soft, but solid footrest, so get down on your hands and knees."

I wanted to tell him he was crazy when all of a sudden that feeling in my chest grew more intense and my body moved on it's own. My knees slammed to the ground in front of him and my back stretched flat.

"Wh-what the hell are you doing?" I cried out.

"Nothing," he replied casually. "Your body's moving all on it's own. It just knows what it wants more than that brain of yours does."

He was fucking with me. He had to be fucking with me. I don't know how, but he was somehow controlling me. he had to be.

My head was forced down and my eyes stared into the ground. I heard him slip off his shoes and was met with the most repulsive smell.

"Chris, what the hell did you do to your feet?!" I blurted out.

I suddenly felt him jam one foot into the side of my face. Now I knew part of the reason it reeked so bad. He'd worn his shoes sockless. The repugnant scent only grew stronger so close to my face, making me feel sick to my stomach.

"Didn't I tell you to call me, Sir, boy. You will call me Sir." He jeered, grinding the foot in further.

Like hell I'd do that. I opened my mouth again to speak, and give him a piece of my mind. "I'm sorry, Sir. Please, punish me accordingly for my mistake, Sir." What the fuck just came out of my mouth?!

"Yeah, that's much better." He sighed, contentedly, pushing his foot against my face, knocking it to the side before finally lifting both his legs and dropping them onto my back. From the sound of it, he then turned the TV on to a football game.

I groaned underneath the pressure, yet strangely did not feel an impact to my actual ability in being his foot rest. Though certainly internally feeling the pressure, my body remained steady, no matter how I tried to move it. This only further cemented that something must be going on.

My blood was boiling. Chris had been tolerable up until this point, but this was too much. I thought back to running into him, how attractive I found him, and regretted ever meeting this sick fuck. Without much control I opened my mouth to speak once more.

"Thank you for allowing me to serve you, Sir. It's what a weak little fag like me was made for." My face burned red hot. I can't say anything anymore. Not even the words I said were in my control.

Barely paying attention to me, Chris just crossed his legs, shifting his weight on my back and grunted out, "Yeah, I know."

I say all that and that's the response I get? No... I wanted to shake my head. I understood where that thought came from, clearly whatever he was doing to me was making me grovel pathetically, and I can understand how anyone would feel dejected after that. But that's not the point. That's not what I even wanted to say. I had to bite the urge to say anything further, resulting in me stewing silently beneath his feet. I'm sure he was more than pleased with this as it allowed him to focus on the game without disturbance.

I became lost in my thoughts. If I couldn't move my own body, would I ever be able to get away? Was this just my life from now on? Previously I would have thought a life with Chris would have been great, but I was a clean, pretty vanilla guy. I liked dick in my mouth, in my ass. I liked being rimmed, maybe some nipple play, but like that's it. Sex is already great, you don't have to reinvent the wheel. Now I was stuck here, on my knees, serving as his foot rest. The antithesis of everything that turned me on.

Another thought that came through my head as I sat there contemplating things was the conversation with his ex. So much for not being a jackass! Had he never done this shit with her then? She was true to her word that other than leaving his clothes around he kept things mostly clean. But with the way his cheesy feet turned my stomach, they for sure were not clean.

So did he not do this to his ex? Or did he, and he made it so she couldn't remember? If he did, why did he leave, and why now do it with a guy? Did he get off on seeing a guy be beneath him, groveling?Although sometimes faltering in the face of a hot guy, I tended to always be a very proud and determined guy, I would not stand to be treated like this.

Soon I was no longer combing through my thoughts but actively battling against parts of myself. I couldn't lash out at him. Literally, I could not. He would just turn it into praise and adoration. I had to figure out a way to beat him at his own game.

-

Silently I kneeled there. When I first got in this position it sounded like the start of the football game and though I tuned out for most of it, I could hear that the game had come to a close. It must have been around three hours that I was on my knees with his feet on my back. Though I certainly could feel the weight, I felt relief at the back of my mind that at least whatever was causing this seemed to reinforce my body and it wasn't crying out aching after all this.

I finally felt him lift his legs and feet from my back, but continued to feel stuck in place. I heard him put on his slippers and walk away, into the bathroom to take a piss. As I continued to kneel there I did my best to convince myself everything was okay, he'd probably have me get up and then I could bolt for the door. No-- if I tried to run, he'd probably stop me. I'd have to act like everything was normal, forgive him, at least until he either fell asleep, left, or was so pre-occupied in something that I could sneak out.

With my mind made up, he slowly shuffled back, sitting on the couch once again. He lifted one of his feet and nudged it against my side to move me. For the first time in hours, I felt my body move to the side.

"Move the coffee table back over." He ordered. Quietly, I moved it just as he said and watched him grab a pillow, plopping his huge bare feet onto it.

"You did a good job as my foot stool. You've earned a reward." He praised me. "I was going to have you massage my feet-- which you still are-- but first, you can give them a few kisses, even lick the soles and in between my toes. I'm nothing if not generous to a good boy." I felt my heart drop as he spoke these words. Generous?! The thought of licking his feet made me want to vomit. Just how sick was he?

My mind reeling from this thought, I made a realization: I didn't move. I looked up at him and he nodded, presumably acknowledging this realization. I felt my body nearly jump from my skin from the urge to run. It took all my willpower not to. This must be a trap, I thought. Maybe he somehow knew I was planning to escape, and he wanted to test me. Watch me make a run for it before forcing me to stop and turn back and submit to him anyway.

My own thoughts echoed in my head. I had to beat him at his own game. With that thought in my head, kneeling upright before his feet, I took a deep breath, praying it would help to keep my stomach stable, and I leaned forward.

My first thought as my face came into contact with his feet was how warm they were. It was relatively warm in the apartment, but it must have been from recently using the slippers. This thought, though unsettling from being about his feet, was not the worst thought in the world. But my next thought, as I breathed in the sweaty stench from the source, was just how awful, toxic almost, that smell was. I felt myself gag and begged my body to keep itself together. I have to do this. I told myself again and again. I don't have a choice.

Steeling my resolve, slowly I extended my tongue and felt the soft flesh embrace it. Immediately I was met with the sour taste of his sweat. C'mon, Alex, you can do this, I thought. Most things lose flavor as you lick them, just treat it like that, every time you lick his feet, it'll get better, easier... no, no, don't frame it that way... it'll be less terrible. You just have to endure it for a little longer.

Trying my best to limit my suffering, I began lapping all over his soles. As I ran along the inside of the arch, I heard him let out a deep sigh of relief as he got more comfortable, shoving his feet further into my face. His enjoyment served to reignite some of my anger; I can't believe I'm making this fucker feel good while he's making me suffer so much! I had to visualize physically restraining myself, my anger, and tying it down in an effort to control it. Somehow it worked and I don't even think I visually demonstrated any signs. Not that he was paying attention, leaning back with his eyes closed and hands behind his head. I did what I could, to focus on his feet, as gross as they were, and get rid of as much sweat as I could.

Eventually, I felt him lightly tap my cheek with the foot I wasn't currently licking and I moved back. I couldn't bring myself to look at him.

Despite this, I could tell his eyes were boring into me, almost into my soul, as he spoke, "Hope you enjoyed that as much as I did. I'm sure you did, good boys like you love that shit." I tried not to let his praise get to me, it doesn't matter how much he enjoyed it or how much he tried to make me feel good about it or myself, I wouldn't let that break my will. "Now's about time for a massage. I let you lick a little bit longer, so this'll be a shorter one. We can just go for the next 30 minutes, all right, boy? Get to it."

Wordlessly, I place my hands against the feet I had been licking but a few seconds ago and began massaging as best I could, trying to pretend as though everything was fine.

-

30 minutes passed in the blink of an eye. I guess I was so mentally worn out, I didn't realize how exhausted I was becoming. I had been working my hands mindlessly when suddenly he was the one to pull away. I sighed and averted my eyes as he rose from the couch once more, walking beside me.

"Boy," He spoke. Although I didn't want to, I felt compelled and slowly brought my head up and looked at him, into his eyes. The deep blue eyes I felt almost pulling me out of my body. "You did such a good job today, boy. I'm so proud of you." Once again, I felt resistance to his words attempt to swell in my chest, fighting a failing battle against my exhaustion. "You deserve to rest," he continued as he softly caressed my head, "rest, and let go of any of your worries. Forget whatever is troubling you and remember that you can always rely on me, you take care of me and I will take care of you." As he spoke I felt my eyes grow heavy, heavier, and suddenly, without warning, I collapsed against his legs.

-

I awoke suddenly, out of the cold dreamless sleep, and found myself in my bed. I had a splitting headache and couldn’t remember what the hell happened before I knocked out. I tried to recall and could vaguely piece together getting out of bed, making breakfast, and tidying the place up again, but after that it was all blank.

I shook my head and checked my phone. It was 5:51 AM Sunday. Shit. I don’t know when I went to sleep, but if it was at my normal time around 11 PM, then I’m missing over 12 hours in my memory… Though, gauging by how rested I felt, I was a little skeptical of whether I was awake for that long.

I rose out of bed and meandered about the living room and kitchen, quietly making food and watching something on the TV. After a few hours, I heard the door to Christians’ room open up and he shuffled his way out.

“What’s up, bro?” He yawned, stretching and scratching his furry belly that was slightly exposed. I almost got distracted by the sight of his body, but forced myself to stay focused.

“Good morning.” I greeted him. “Hey, do you know what happened yesterday? I can’t remember anything after cleaning up the place a little…"

“You did a great job, by the way, bro. I fucking love when you do that, so fuckin’ useful.” He praised me, though something in my stomach flipped hearing his praise.

After a pause where he didn’t continue, I pressed further, “Yeah, but what happened after that…"

“We just chilled. I helped you finally relax, you looked fuckin’ exhausted from your work, and before we knew it you were out like a light."

I had been pretty exhausted from work… I opened my mouth to try and dig a little deeper, but he continued on. “Yeah, you seemed real relaxed afterward. So glad I could help. Heh, you helped me to relax too though. So it was a win-win. Definitely something I wouldn’t mind doing again."

Well now I was even more curious. I helped him relax as well? Once again, I started to open my mouth when he just kept talking before I could. “I’m gonna head to the gym for work,” he explained, eating some food leftover from what I’d made this morning. “I end early again today, lots of clients away for the summer. It’s a bummer, but also kinda nice. Maybe we can hang again this afternoon. Have some more fun."

With that, he was out the door before I could get a word in edgewise. ‘Some fun’? What the hell did that mean? My thoughts immediately went to his thick cock. My lips did feel a little sore… But there’s no way. I almost laughed at the thought, though I was drooling a little bit imagining getting to suck Christian’s cock and make him feel good.

Strange, though I knew giving head made someone feel good, I had never been quite so focused on that before. Normally I just enjoyed the act of sex. I liked giving head because I enjoyed it, yet now the most tantalizing part was imagining him with his head back enjoying the experience. I shuffled around cleaning up the dishes before sitting down and trying to relax and take my mind off of things.

However, despite my best efforts, after several hours of trying to distract myself, all I could think about was what the hell happened yesterday. I thought back to what I’d done and an idea came into my head.

Slowly, I rose up and walked around the apartment. Just like when I cleaned up his clothes. I then ambled into his room and looked around. I could vaguely remember his clothes strewn about the previous day. Suddenly his voice echoed through my mind. 'We really should have you doing that more often, right?’ I shuddered as something that felt beyond my memories came into grasp. I stared at his hamper before slowly making my way to it. Mindlessly, I began rooting through it until I touched something and a part of my mind lit up. I moved my hand around until I grabbed the soft fabric and pulled it out.

In my hand lay one of his dirty socks. My eyes rested on it quizzically for a few minutes as something lie just out of reach in my mind. Then all at once I dropped the sock and made my way out of his room. My body moved on its own until I stood before couch. I shifted the coffee table out of the way and dropped to my knees. This whole time my head was pounding. But as I kneeled there something happened. It happened within a second, I was confused and lost in one moment and the next scenes flashed before my eyes as if they were events that happened to someone else as I watched.

I saw myself on my hands and knees, Christian’s big feet on my back. Then I saw his feet on swallowing my face, and could almost feel the heat and moisture from being underneath them. I could actually feel my tongue running along the bottoms and the taste of his dirty, sweaty soles spreading across it.

My heart began racing and my breathing picked up. I was losing it. What the hell. What the actual fuck. How could I forget all that? It was him… That’s right, he somehow controlled me. Of course he could probably get me to forget what happened. I slowed my breathing to try and calm me down. I needed to figure out what the hell I was going to do. Run away? Call the cops? I needed to do something. At the very least, I needed to get away.

Just as I had that thought, I heard the front door open. My heart sank and I could feel my body tense up and freeze. There would be no way to get out now, I thought as I watched him enter.

“Hey! Perfect! You’re already in position!” He chuckled to himself. “You can remember now. That’s awesome, I need to relax, bro."

As he spoke, at some point it felt like the flood gates of memories opened even wider. I could remember every second of being down on the floor beneath him. And here I was again, kneeling before him as he sat down and kicked off his shoes, revealing his bare feet.

I was freaking out and still felt like I couldn’t move. You have to calm down, I thought to myself. You can get out of this, but you have to get through this now. You have no idea what he can do, so you have to go along with whatever he would want.

He scooched the table back over as he plopped his feet down on top of it. His big, sweaty, stinky feet stood before me once again. They were disgusting after being in his shoes sockless. But I knew what I had to do. No matter what I had to act like I was playing in the palm of his hand. Looking up between those towering soles, I gazed into his eyes and unhesitatingly pleaded, “Sir, may I please kiss and lick your feet? I’m so hungry for it. I need your strong feet, Sir, I need to be beneath you.”

He put his hands behind his head and gave a quizzical look as his kind of joke. “You want to lick my feet? They kinda smell though, don’t they boy?”

“Th-that’s why I want them, Sir. They smell because you’ve worked hard… and… and a weak, pathetic boy like me craves to be beneath such powerful feet; to breathe in and taste your sweaty feet is the closest I can be to being a real man like you.” As I said this, I knew he would love it. After yesterday, and remembering how he behaved, I think I’d begun to understand Christian’s psychology, and was now not only pretending to play in the palm of his hand, but working to be dancing in it.

“Wow, now that… that’s some real faggot shit right there,” I braced myself as he proudly attempted to grind my ego to the ground. He lifted a foot and playfully slapped it against my cheek. A light “schlop”-ing sound could be heard as the sweat clung to my skin. Not missing a beat, I began to lovingly rub my face into the soles. Overwhelmed by the wretched scent, but doing everything I could to keep it together. He has to believe you love this, so love it; do everything you can to show you love it, I thought to myself.

“All right, since you’ve been a real good boy, you’ve earned a reward.” My stomach flipped at the word ‘reward’ and though he had not a hint of malice in his eyes or the growing smirk on his face, I was dreading what was to come.

He rose from his seat and walked over to the kitchen, grabbing something out of one of the cabinets.

“Close your eyes, boy, let’s make this a true surprise. You won’t know what’s happening until I tell you to open your eyes again.”

I wasn’t sure what he meant by the last part of the statement at first, but I hesitatingly closed my eyes as he commanded. After a second or two when he walked back I realized that last statement… it was somehow like the other days. It somehow had the power to warp reality, or warp my reality at least. Once he sat back down, I couldn’t hear or feel anything. It was like my body was completely free of sensation.

On one hand, this control he had greatly frightened me… and on the other, it felt strangely nice to be freed of all sensation. It’s like what some people say… there’s a sort of freedom in absence. So without realizing, I began to find it incredibly easy to keep my eyes closed. That, however, did not last.

“Good boy,” his voice cut through the silence like a 1,000 degree knife through butter. “Open your eyes and enjoy the first part of your gift.”

Though reluctant, I obeyed and slowly opened my eyes. At first I was confused, but quickly realizing that the soft pink that engulfed my vision was the bottoms of his feet.

Caught off guard, I took a shaky deep breath in and was meant with an overwhelming, dizzying, damp musky scent. I had thought kneeling beside his feet before gave me an idea of the smell, but now it was all I could breathe… That’s when I realized how true that thought was. My mouth had been duct taped shut. Not only that but he managed to move me flat on the ground… whatever he could do to me was that powerful?! This was crazy. I thought he could control me before, but this was something else. I was like an ant at the mercy of a god… A god…?

I couldn’t speak, but I had been slightly wriggling around, which only really had the effect of further burying my face into his sweaty feet. However, it appeared he picked up on my confusion.

“Relax, boy. This is the first part of your reward. I want you to enjoy it. Take nice deep breaths and just relax underneath my feet.” Again, it was strange. He said all this, from what I could tell, without a hint of contempt or malice. He really wanted me to enjoy this. Why? Why would I enjoy this? Why does he think I would enjoy this? I don’t… right?

“I know work’s been stressful lately. But now you can just lie down with your little head on that pillow, enjoy my nice, big feet, and relax.”

I hated that what he said made sense. Work had been stressful this week. All week I could barely focus, and there was so much to do that I could never catch up… All I had wanted to do was be able to just stop and relax. I didn’t want to be here, I wanted to report him and get away… But more than that, I wanted to relax. and I DESERVED to get to just relax.

At least he was nice and put a pillow down here. It did add at least some comfort to this situation. Though I was annoyed that he said I should relax considering the context, he was right. I would never get through these moments if I didn’t.

I closed my eyes, and tried to focus on something, anything, but couldn’t. After a minute I opened my eyes, and was greeted by the huge soles I was forced to breathe in stretching across my face again.

He then shifted and moved his right foot back some so the arch was resting on my forehead and his toes hung over my nose. Finally, my view wasn’t obscured. Though there still wasn’t much to see.

Mindlessly, my eyes drifted along the sides of his sole slowly gliding up toward the toes. They traced along the curves in his toes, winding around to the bottom of the big toe, where my view became obscured by his other foot. Without pause, my eyes then traced back around his toes. Again and again.

It was strange, but I began to lose myself in this process. With my brain thoughtlessly preoccupied, I began to finally, actually relax. Though not conscious of it, the smell of his feet bothered me less and less despite remaining as strong and pungent. I took deep breaths in… and out. Over and over. Just allowing myself to finally let go and start to relax.

Time began to blur until, chuckling, he removed his feet from my view for a second. I could not explain it, but for some reason my heart sank when he did that. Not because I was worried about what he was doing, but…

Interrupting my thoughts, he said a quick, “Sorry ‘bout this!” And before I could react, ripped the duct tape off my mouth.

I groaned in pain as he placed his warm feet back over my face, looking down at me.

“You were just tickling me too damn much before, boy,” he laughed, “Thought maybe removing the tape would help, and we could start the second part of this reward.” As he said that he leaned back and resumed what he was doing, likely playing a game, I now realized. “You can start licking, whenever you want. You’ve earned licking these boys ‘till they’re spotless. I’ll let ya know when you’ve done a good job.”

Once more his feet totally engulfed me. I didn’t have a distraction this time and was left only staring at the shadowy pink fleshy soles above me. It may be weird, I mean his feet were supposedly grossing me out, but it had been so nice losing myself in the outline of his toes and arch. It felt like I learned every crevice and wrinkle along that part of his right foot.

And now I couldn’t distract myself, I was confronted with his feet again. I know I had done this before, but I didn’t know if I had the will to do it again. It had been so bad, so painful before, forcing myself to lick his feet.

In my distress, I began breathing heavily, switching between my mouth and nose, and inadvertently causing my face to get hotter and hotter. It was like a sauna beneath his soles. And as they absorbed the heat it only became hotter. Worst of all, I could begin to feel new sweat lining the bottom of his feet where they pressed into my face. I was only making this worse for myself, but still I couldn’t find the strength to resist and pretend to do what he said.

Within the back of my mind, a part of me I wanted to ignore, acknowledged this would all be easier if he just commanded me to lick his feet. I… didn’t think he had. But maybe that’s why I felt so bad? Maybe because I was resisting. I didn’t know. This was all so confusing.

As I laid there struggling, eventually I felt something drip into my mouth. Instinctively, I swallowed it before realizing it was likely sweat from his feet. A wave of disgust washed over me before… dying down. The taste, it wasn’t that bad. It really wasn’t gross at all. It tasted… fine.

I had been resisting and dreading it because of how gross I thought it had been, but maybe it would be easier to do this than I thought. He must be commanding me and that’s why I feel so bad, I thought to myself. So just go along with it and you’ll get it over with.

Slowly, I opened my mouth more and before I knew it, I felt the warm, salty flesh against my tongue. Quickly I retracted my tongue, and the flavor swirled throughout my mouth. It… it… was fine. It tasted fine. It was even good… I mean I like salty things, so that had to be reason why. Not because it actually tasted good. All I had to do was stop resisting.

I let out a quiet, muffled chuckle and began licking along the arch of his feet, running my tongue up and down, across the soft, warm wrinkles.

Sighing, I closed my eyes, and similar to when I traced the outline of his arch and toes with my eyes, I began to do the same with my tongue along the inside of his arch. Once again, I felt my body relax. It made sense, he had commanded me to lick his feet. Of course obeying would make me feel better. If this is what it would take to get through it… maybe even make it… enjoyable. Then I would just let it happen. I could resist him later.

After a few minutes, I could feel him move the left foot I had been licking to bring me up along the ball of the foot and under the toes. With new area to cover, my tongue began curiously exploring. The ball was rougher and the taste a little more sour, but still not bad. It was fine… good. And as I moved my tongue gliding under the toes the taste became saltier. I found my tongue staying around there more. Without thinking, sliding itself between his toes and unknowingly cleaning out the toe jam from his shoes. In my relaxed state, I found I didn’t mind this… at all. Though that’s nonsense? That’s your controlled thoughts telling you that. Don’t read too much into it, my inner thoughts fought back.

Eventually he moved to his left heel which was similarly more sour like the balls of his feet and after licking it clean, he switched to his right foot. I had already been licking so much, and yet there was still more I got to do. Without hesitation, my tongue dove back in, exploring the new foot, all of its nooks, and its similar flavor I felt safe in.

After finishing licking both feet, he leaned back over and grinned down at me.

“Having a good time?”

I knew I had to cater to his whims, I mean, I knew that, but without thinking it, I muttered out a sheepish, “y-yes… s-sir…”

“Good, you’ve been real good today.” He beamed as he said this, and added, “I saved the best for last. I’m almost done with this area, so while I finish up, you can suck on my toes. Sound good, boy?”

I was starting to squeak out a quiet “mhm” though without waiting, he brought his arches resting on my forehead leaning forward so his toes were pressing against my lips.

Giving myself permission to once again obey him since he must have commanded me to do it anyway, I began opened my mouth and his toes instantly popped in.

A smile crept across my face as I tasted the same salty flavor as when licking under and between his toes, only even stronger now as I fully sucked on them. I shuddered at the intensity of the taste. I knew he must be making me think this taste good, but damn, he was good at it.

He really was kind of like a god… I mean, he could make me enjoy anything. Life would probably be so easy if I just let him take control. I knew this thought was dangerous… but I mean, this dude had me licking his feet and sucking his toes because he could make me do whatever he wanted and he could make me like it! That kind of power is unbelievable. In a way, like, thank god he was making me lick his feet, sweaty or whatever, it was better than something else he could make me do, and I was able to enjoy it.

I think finally fully relaxing and having a calm moment made me realize how out of depth I was thinking before. Reporting him to the police would be dumb; it just wouldn’t work. I’d have to suddenly leave, possibly leaving behind everything. That’s the only way I could get away. But was that worth it…? It had to be, you’re only questioning it because he’s making you feel good about this. You wouldn’t be enjoying his feet otherwise. You have to get out of here at some point.

Despite having these thoughts trying to balance things, I had to be mindful that my whole life was here. My apartment, all my belongings. If I stayed in the area, he could always run into. I’d have to leave the city, this job. That was all too much. Was any of that really worth getting away from Christian so I wouldn’t have to lick his sweaty feet and toes while he helps me to enjoy it?

As these thoughts swam around in my head, I must have finished licking Chris’ toes to his satisfaction as he withdrew them from my mouth.

“Great job, bud.” He beamed slapping my face a few times with his feet. "It’s been a good two hours, and I still have a few errands to run this evening, so I’m gonna head back out. Why don’t you make us some dinner for tonight, maybe I can give you dessert after.” As he finished, though my thoughts initially were that he’d want to have me down at his feet again, as he got up, he grabbed and shook his junk in my face and winked at me. “Everyone loves a happy ending. It'd be a great cap to this perfect day, don’tcha think?”

I silently nodded while crawling to sit up. After sliding on his flip flops and grabbing his keys, he was out the door. Left alone, my heart raced as I had to make a decision on what the hell I was supposed to do.

-

-

-

Hope you all enjoyed the story. This was another one I’d started like a year ago and never got to finishing. A little bit of dabbling into mind control. That’s a theme I have quite in quite a few unfinished stories. Definitely something I find hot and want to explore more, though I sometimes find it difficult to know where to go or how to add fun layers with it in mind. But I know where I’m taking this and plan to have a second part that will cap everything off. I’ll work on that as I work on the third part of the stepdad story and some other WIP’s I have.

I’ve received a few suggestions on story ideas and plan to turn some into something. But I always love hearing what my audience likes to read and what they might want from me, so please feel free to message me any ideas you have or themes you enjoy! I love connecting and talking with people and sharing in the love of sexy, sweaty, and stinky manly feet! (:

[masterchief26]

Two masters 1 slave

[legendaryfootfreak]

You just have to do what you are told... suck toes, massage his feet. You dream to do it every day.

[yourslaveheart]

Don’t just lick His feet…worship them.

Really worship them. This isn’t about going through the motions or checking a box. It’s about how you feel when you're down there, face pressed to the ground, giving Him the kind of attention that says, you are everything. You take your time. You kiss each toe like it’s sacred. You work your tongue slowly, not because you were told to, but because you need to. His feet carry his weight, his power, his presence, and you belong beneath them. That’s not just service. That’s surrender. That’s the kind of worship he deserves.

[masterchief26]

Basketball player sock worship

[qualmsocke]

[sniffthebondagefootpig]

Omg I wanna squirm and sniff...esp if super reeky cheesy socks

[ragnardmo]

I love to struggle under smelly socked feet

[miniatureblizzardkitten]

[malefeetislife]

One of the best Masters on the internet

[miniatureblizzardkitten]

[ragnardmo]

Master DERRICK one of the best masters

[gabriell-luccas]

[jockfootstories]

Your friend casually resting his smelly socked foot on your chest, clearly blocking your view of the TV. Just inches from your face, his sock odor quickly fills the space. You’ve been in this situation with his playful foot dominance before, but this time you choose not to push his stinky foot away as you have in the past. Expecting resistance and not getting it, he begins to wiggle his foot slightly. You stay calm, trying to ignore it. The foot stops, pauses, then slowly slides over, pressing the bottom against the side of your nose. You turn your face into it and get a strong whiff of his sock odor. His foot smell is so intense and intoxicating that it immediately excites you. You groan and push the foot away, but he, still watching the TV, blindly brings it back, pressing it fully against your face. You quickly breathe it in, your nose pressed against his cottony sole, before pushing it back onto your chest. The playful resistance continues, as you try to dodge and push both his feet back, him now determined to make you smell them. One socked toe presses and flexes over your nostrils, causing you to grunt and mutter, “No.” You see him glance over at you absently and respond sarcastically, “You wanna smell ‘em?” He covers your face with both feet, trapping you in darkness for a moment, and you take a deep breath. You’ve always resisted his smelly feet when he gets like this, but this time you really want to submit to see what he’ll do. You try weakly to fight his feet for about ten minutes before you give in briefly. You feel the bottoms pushing against your nose again, adjusting, and you stay still for a few moments. You start to move your face against his socked soles and weakly say that you can’t fight back, too tired from the smell. Not sure if he heard you, your friend pulls back both knees and quickly yanks off his dry socks. You see him briefly grin at you before turning back to the TV. His bare feet casually replace the socks over your face, ensuring your nose is pressed against one of them. You smell his bare sole, much stronger, and find yourself addicted to the scent. You move your hands to one foot and weakly push it off onto your chest. He brings it back, determined to win, and begins smearing the bottom against your nose. You try to say something, but his foot is pressed over your mouth, and the strong smell is making you incredibly aroused below. You let his foot’s scent fill your nostrils for a minute before hearing him cockily say, “Like that foot smell?” You feel him slide one foot down and start working his toes against your nose. You move your face into them, grunting just for show, taking big whiffs between them. He flexes his toes over your nostrils and teases, “Smell my toes!” After what feels like forever, he casually covers your face with both soles, burying you in his foot stench. You stare into the bottoms of his meaty feet, face pressed against them, breathing heavily as you lie there, submissive. Your dick is incredibly hard, loving this feet power he has over you. You feel him adjust his feet on your face as the movie resumes. You slightly move your face to the side of one foot and he firmly repostions both consuming your face and saying semi-cockily,”Lay there and take it. Get long whiffs of my foot smell. Know you like it.”  

You lie there while he watches the movie, deeply breathing in his intoxicating foot aroma. Ever so often, him teasing your nose with his toes for a bit before smothering you again. Miss the days like these. 

[amantepiedimaschi]

[powerbase-deactivated20250104]

[athleticbrutality3]

Know your place.

[bootboy518]

How I greet Conservative Men. I know I am not worthy to be in Their presence, so I keep my eyes down and worship quietly

[leche-pompes-deactivated2025040]

Liberal fags have started going around their neighbourhood and apologizing for being so uppity all these years