just exploring

The New Neighbor

Ryder had just finished unpacking the last box in his new apartment when the knock came. He wiped the sweat from his brow, his tank top clinging to his lean, athletic frame, and opened the door. Standing there was his neighbor—tall, broad-shouldered, with a neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper beard, shaved head gleaming under the hallway light, and intricate tribal tattoos peeking from the collar of his black button-down shirt.

“Name’s Victor,” the man said, his voice low and smooth like aged whiskey. “Saw you moving in. Figured you could use a break. Coffee at my place? I just brewed a fresh pot.”

Ryder smiled, brushing a hand through his short dark hair. He was 28, recently single after a messy breakup, and the idea of a friendly neighbor sounded perfect. “Yeah, man. That’d be great. Give me five to clean up.”

Ten minutes later he was sitting on Victor’s sleek leather couch, mug in hand. The apartment was minimalist—dark wood, heavy leather furniture, dim lighting that made everything feel intimate. Victor sat across from him, legs spread casually, watching with calm, piercing eyes.

“This is good coffee,” Ryder said, taking another sip. It had a faint, almost herbal aftertaste, but he chalked it up to some fancy blend. “Thanks again.”

“My pleasure,” Victor replied, his voice dropping slightly. “You look like you’ve had a long day. Why don’t you just relax… let your shoulders drop… feel the warmth of that mug in your hands spreading through your body.”

Ryder chuckled lightly, but something about the cadence of Victor’s words made his eyelids feel heavier. He took another sip. The room seemed to soften at the edges.

“That’s it,” Victor continued, never breaking eye contact. “Every sip pulls you deeper. Deeper into the chair. Deeper into my voice. Your mind is getting so open… so receptive. You don’t need to think right now, Ryder. Just listen. Just obey.”

Ryder blinked slowly. His mug felt impossibly heavy. He tried to set it down but his arm moved lazily, as if underwater. “What… are you…” The words slurred. Victor’s eyes held him, deep and commanding, and suddenly the world narrowed to that voice and the gentle spiral of warmth in his chest.

Victor leaned forward, his tattooed forearms resting on his knees. “Sleep now, Ryder. Deep, obedient sleep.”

Ryder’s head lolled forward. His eyes fluttered shut. He was gone.

Victor smiled, standing up and circling the helpless young man. He placed a strong hand on Ryder’s shoulder, voice dropping into a rhythmic, irresistible cadence. “You are no longer the man who walked in here. That person is fading… disappearing with every breath you take. You are becoming my houseboy. My mindless, obedient servant. You live for service. Your body craves following orders. Your cock hardens at the thought of pleasing me.”

He continued for long minutes, weaving suggestion after suggestion into Ryder’s pliant mind:

“You feel intense pleasure every time you obey me. Disobedience feels empty and wrong. Your old ambitions, your independence—they’re gone. Replaced by the simple, blissful need to keep my home perfect. To cook, clean, kneel, and serve. You love wearing the uniform I choose for you—tight rubber shorts, a collar, nothing else. Your muscles stay toned because you work hard for me. Your mind stays quiet and happy… empty except for my commands.”

Victor’s hand slid down Ryder’s chest, feeling the steady heartbeat. “You are attracted only to serving men like me. Strong, dominant, tattooed. Your cock belongs to me now. You will edge for hours if I command it, never cumming without permission. You will address me as Sir or Master. You will thank me for every task.”

He leaned in close, lips brushing Ryder’s ear. “When you wake, you will remember none of this conversation. You will simply know your place is here, with me. Forever.”

Victor snapped his fingers.

Ryder’s eyes opened slowly. He blinked, then looked up at Victor with a soft, adoring expression that hadn’t been there before. His face was relaxed, almost boyish in its simplicity.

“Sir,” he said quietly, voice warm with new devotion. “Is there anything I can do for you? The apartment looks spotless already, but I could polish the leather… or make you another coffee… or kneel and wait for instructions.”

Victor grinned, running a hand over Ryder’s short hair. “Good boy. Strip down to your underwear and start cleaning the kitchen. Slowly. I want to watch.”

Ryder stood without hesitation, peeling off his tank top to reveal his smooth, defined torso. His eyes were bright but vacant, focused entirely on service. As he moved to the kitchen, hips swaying slightly in unconscious obedience, his cock was already straining against his jeans.

Victor settled back onto the couch, sipping the last of his own coffee, watching his new houseboy work. Ryder hummed softly while wiping counters, every motion graceful and eager. When he finished, he returned, dropping smoothly to his knees in front of Victor.

“Kitchen is perfect, Sir. What else can your houseboy do?”

Victor cupped Ryder’s chin, tilting his face up. “Many things, boy. Many, many things. We’re just getting started.”

Ryder’s eyes shone with pure, mindless bliss as he nuzzled into the touch. The man who had walked in for coffee was gone. In his place was the perfect, obedient houseboy Victor had always wanted—trapped happily in permanent, hypnotic service.

(Don’t know whose page I got the pic from.. if you know please DM me so I can tag them.)

Liam and Kenneth.

The ropes bit deep into Liam’s arms and chest, coarse hemp digging into the black sleeveless shirt with the green dinosaur on it. He’d fought hard when they first grabbed him—elbows, knees, a desperate twist that almost got him free—but the man in the black mask had been ready. Stronger. Meaner. Now Liam was cinched tight to the wooden chair, wrists already going numb behind the backrest, ankles lashed to the legs so hard the wood creaked every time he shifted.

Kenneth crouched beside him, black gloves flexing as he lifted the old Reebok higher.

“Smell it.”

The voice was muffled, flat, coming from behind the featureless black fabric that covered every inch of his head. No eyes, no mouth—just that smooth void and the smell of latex and sweat underneath.

Liam shook his head hard, the backwards black cap shifting on his scalp. “Fuck you—get that away from—”

A gloved hand clamped the back of his neck and shoved. The dirty white sneaker slammed against his face. The sole pressed flat over his nose and mouth, warm and rank from hours of wear. Liam tried to turn away; the hand only pushed harder. Thick rubber and fabric filled his vision. The sharp, sour stink of foot sweat and old leather flooded his nostrils.

He held his breath until his lungs burned.

Kenneth waited. Patient. When Liam finally gasped, the air he dragged in was pure shoe—hot, humid, thick with the musk of a long day on someone’s feet. His eyes watered. A low, helpless sound escaped him against the rubber sole.

“That’s it,” Kenneth murmured. “Breathe it in. You’re not going anywhere. This is yours now.”

He worked methodically. Every time Liam’s lungs demanded air, the stinking sole was already there—pressing hard, sealing off everything else. Kenneth controlled every single breath. He would hold the shoe away just long enough for Liam’s chest to hitch and panic to set in, then slam it back over his nose and mouth the instant Liam tried to inhale. Clean air was never an option. The only air Liam was allowed was the thick, sour funk of Kenneth’s feet: the sharp salt of dried sweat, the warm rubber, the darker musk that lived deep in the insole.

“This is what you need,” Kenneth whispered while Liam was forced to inhale through the filthy rubber. “This smell. It’s better than air. Better than freedom. Your body already knows it. Feel how hard you are under those ropes? That’s not fear anymore. That’s recognition.”

He switched shoes without warning, pressing the matching left sneaker over Liam’s nose and mouth the second the younger man tried to suck in a clean breath. The stench was even heavier, more concentrated. Liam’s protests grew weaker, turning into muffled whimpers that vibrated against the rubber. Kenneth’s gloved fingers stroked the side of Liam’s head almost gently while the shoe stayed clamped in place, only lifting it when Liam’s struggles began to slow from lack of oxygen—then immediately forcing it back the moment Liam’s lungs seized and he tried to breathe again.

“You’re going to crave this. When I’m gone you’ll still smell it in your head. You’ll get hard just thinking about dirty shoes. About my feet. You’ll start hunting for it. Old sneakers in the laundry. The bottoms of boots. Anything that reeks of a long day. And every time you catch that smell you’ll remember who put it there. Who made it yours.”

Hours blurred. Kenneth rotated the shoes, sometimes pressing both at once, sometimes forcing Liam’s face down into the open collars so the damp fabric filled his mouth and nose. He made Liam lick the dirty insoles between the forced breaths, praising every reluctant stroke of the tongue. Whenever Liam tried to turn his head away, Kenneth simply waited until the need for air overrode pride, then shoved the shoe back into place and held it there until Liam had no choice but to breathe the stink deep into his lungs.

“Good. Deeper. Let it rewrite you. That clean air you keep fighting for? It’s nothing. This is what your lungs want now. This is what your cock wants. You’re not a man who got tied up. You’re a man who belongs to this smell.”

By the time Kenneth finally set the shoes aside, Liam’s eyes were glassy and unfocused. His breathing stayed shallow and fast even without the rubber against his face, as if his body was still searching for the scent. Kenneth crouched in front of him, black-gloved hands resting on Liam’s bound thighs.

“Say it.”

Liam’s voice came out raw and small. “…I need it.”

Kenneth waited.

“I need… the smell. Your shoes. Your feet. I need them.”

Kenneth nodded once, satisfied. He left the dirty Reeboks sitting open on Liam’s lap, the stink rising steadily into the captive’s face, and stood.

“You’ll stay like this until it sinks all the way in. When I come back, you’ll beg for them without being told. And you’ll mean it.”

He walked out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him. Liam sat alone in the chair, ropes biting into his arms, the two filthy sneakers resting heavy against his crotch. The thick, sour odor filled every breath he took. He tried not to inhale too deeply at first. Then, slowly, he stopped fighting it.

Police Constable Ryan Ellis had only been on the force for a few months. Fresh out of training, he took pride in doing everything by the book. His uniform was always immaculate, his hair neatly styled, and he believed every situation had a clear right and wrong.

One rainy evening, he was called to a disturbance on a residential street.

When Ryan arrived, he found a local scally named Jay leaning against a wall, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. Jay wore a shiny black tracksuit, heavy tattoos, and a thick gold chain around his neck. After a brief chase, Ryan caught him and placed him in handcuffs.

Despite the arrest, Jay remained surprisingly calm.

At the station, the interview began. Jay answered questions with an amused grin, occasionally cracking jokes that Ryan tried hard not to laugh at. Jay wasn't supposed to smoke, but did anyway and PC Ryan didn't have the skills yet to stop him.

Before the interview ended, Jay unclipped his heavy gold chain and slid it across the table.

"Go on," he said. "Just see what it looks like."

Ryan shook his head.

"I can't."

"You're only trying it on."

After a moment's hesitation, curiosity got the better of him. He lifted the chain and fastened it around his neck.

Jay laughed.

"See? Suits you."

Ryan caught his reflection in the interview room mirror. It looked completely out of place with his police uniform... yet somehow he couldn't stop smiling.

The chain stayed in Ryan's mind long after the interview ended.

Later that afternoon, he found himself absent-mindedly holding the chain that had been booked into evidence. He couldn't explain why it fascinated him so much, nor why he kept hold of it.

PC Ryan ended up putting it on and loosening his collar. He felt confident, cocky in fact as well as an urge he'd never felt before. He wanted to smoke and be like Jay. He thought about taking it off, but he didn't have the will power, so slowly but surely, he succumbed to the temptation to buy cigarettes and smoke.

The next morning, while driving his patrol car, he found himself still wearing the chain. He couldn't help but have a smoke.

During a quiet break, he wandered into a nearby barber's.

"Buzz cut?" the barber asked.

Not Ryan's normal, but he wanted to look hard.

"Yeah. Go on."

Minutes later, he stepped back onto the pavement with a freshly shaved head. Looking in the shop window, he barely recognised himself.

He lit a cigarette like he'd been smoking for years, smiling like he was the best person in the world.

Days later, Ryan reviewed Jay's case. Ryan decided that his offences were relatively minor, and after completing the paperwork, Jay was released.

Instead of walking away immediately, Jay asked Ryan for a lift home. Ryan accepted and they ended up getting on great.

"You kept the chain."

Ryan laughed.

"You were right—it does suit me."

Jay reached into his pocket, produced a fresh packet of cigarettes and held one out.

Ryan accepting it straight away. He'd been smoking a pack a day since he first started wearing the chain anyway.

Jay and Ryan are now good friends and have a mutually beneficial arrangement between them. Jay avoids all police trouble and Ryan is earning more money through Jay's dodgy dealings.

One day I got an invitation to a dorm party I was really surprised but also happy: I’m not that popular at all, and kappa delta hung out only with the coolest guys on the campus. Maybe this is my breakout from grayness, and finally I will be accepted. I joined the party with joy. I had big plans for the evening: getting drunk, get new friends, maybe get laid by some hot drunk chick. When I entered the room I was disappointed: my third goal seemed to be unachievable, since there were only guys on the party. Guys from other dorms, guys from the math, chemistry, electronical and chess club (wtf, by the way…). It seems like they didn’t invite the coolest guys, they invited nerds and jocks. Fortunately there were some free beer, and I also saw some kappa guys. I can still make it. I grabbed a beer and then I headed to the guy who gave me the invitation. He was wearing headphones, it seems he didn’t like the music the dj was playing. I can understand him, this monotonous, repetitive music drives me mad too. I knocked on his shoulders to get notice. He turned to me, gave a smirk and walked away. Then the music got louder, the dj lit a cigarette and I felt the music taking over control of my body. I turned to the dj, he was smirking too as he toggled the buttons on his machine. I went closer to the pult. I wanted to get as much of his music as I could. I wasn’t alone, all the jocks and club members were walking towards the dj. We just watched him. He was so confident, so sexy as he stood behind the pult. We were mesmerised by him. We just stood there and observed his superiority. And then he switched off all the lights. It was dark, but we still stared at him. We knew where the mind altering music came from, and he was in the epicentre. Suddenly an orb came down from the ceiling. It was lit, and shattered various colors to the dj. We were fascinated by how the lights danced on the djs shiny trackie top. We were droolong and watching him. The music fade out and the dj grabbed a mike.

“Greetings newcomers. I am the leader of kappa delta and tonight the rest of your lives begin. You got the basic education: admiring your leader by my hypnotic music. You are now all under my complete control. You do whatever I tell you, and you obey me without questions. You love serving me. My shiny trackies and my superiority is connected in your brains. This is the uniform of your Masters and you will obey them just like I would command you. Now turn around and look at them. ”

Suddenly the lights of the back of the room were lit by the same orbs. There were standing all the kappa delta guys in their uniforms. Some of them only in pants, some of them fully cloathed, and some wearing only the tops.

“Look at them and realise how superior my boys are. You can’t resist them, you have to kneel before them. You have to do what they say each time you take a look on their sexy trackies. You don’t care what they want: cheats, homeworks or blowjobs, you will be happy to fulfill their wishes. Because you are now the slaves of our community. You will be assigned to one Master, but you will serve everyone who wears our uniform. Now it’s time my brothers, pick your slave and make them completely yours. Slaves, kneel!”

Lately I discovered a special site on the internet. They were selling various pheromones that attracts and/or enslaves other people. I ordered the Shoe Drops, just add a little every day to your shoe, and whoever feels it’s scent (from your socks or straight from your shoe) he/she will be ready to fulfill any command of yours. In addition, if you use it as a treatment, you can have a 24/7 slave. I instantly saw myself surrounded by the best obedient chicks.

First I thought it’s a good idea to share my secret with Adam. He seemed so unlucky with girls. He had a pretty face, fit body, yet he didn’t have a girlfriend since I met him.

One day I was alone with Adam in the locker room after P.E. I was about to change clothes, and Adam was almost ready, waiting for me, since we planned some mall after the college. He just sit there and looked at me.

“You know, thanks for sharing Foot drops with me. I feel myself way closer to what I want.”

“No prob bro. And who is she? Do I know her? Do you plan a direct attack staight from shoe, or you will let your socks work? Last week I left a pair of socks at Laura. Now she’s completely mine.. ”

“Well I’m planning a sudden, direct pushing a shoe into the face attack, because I think there would be some resistance.” He said as he started to put on his first shoe. “You know, I have a crush on him a long time ago and I really want him as my slave, to use him for my pleasure. ”

“Wait… Him?” I asked, but suddenly Adam’s shoe landed in my face. I tried to resist and not to breathe, while I grabbed mine, but I failed.

“Yes… I’m gay, and soon you will be too.”

What? Shit, he leaves me no choice, I have to use my shoes if I don’t want to end up as a mindless slave of Adam’s. I managed to put my shoes into his face. Maybe I didn’t inhale that much. Maybe he is weaker, and will become my slave before me.

“Actually I would enjoy both situation. Being your slave would be nice, but first you should have feelings for me. Anyway you are already too late. I feel your cock getting hard as I talk to you. Inhale deeper, don’t fight. Let me take control of you. Drop your shoe and push mine into your face instead. ”

I felt my body getting weaker and my breaths becoming slower and deeper. My legs started to shake and my hands with the shoe fell off. I grabbed the hand that held the shoe in my face and pushed it harder. I felt nothing but the smell amd pheromones. And it was fine. I sat down on the floor and kept sniffing the shoe.

I worshipped Adam like there’s no tomorrow. I kissed his cock through his trackies, making it harder and harder with each kiss. Then he pulled down his soft pants, and I was facing his dick. I started to suck. I felt his hard cock sliding down on my throat. He spilled his cum right into my mouth. He ordered me to enjoy and swallow it. Adam took over the control of me by making me sniff his pheromone soaked shoe. I had no choice but to obey. I swallowed his cum, and went straight to home to get my stuff and move in to him. My cock was hard all the way. I couldn’t think of anything else but to serve my new god. My mind swam in the fog of his Shoe Drops.

It’s his door… I knock… He opened the door. He was half naked, wearing only silky shorts he used on P.E. I walked in, put my stuff on the ground and facing him. I was waiting for instructions. Adam just smirked, he got everything he wanted : his secret crush under his control.

Then something happened. The fog on my mind became lighter and lighter. The effect of the first treatment started to wore off. Adam came closer and gave me a long, wet kiss, but in the middle I snapped out. I pushed hik away and tried to run away from his apartment. He grabbed me and pushed to the ground.

“Well, well… It seems like you don’t enjoy being my guest, but don’t be so rude. Stay at least for a drink, or a snack… Don’t rush, have some time to sniff the roses you find on your way… In your case…”

He said with a grin on his face, and pushed his socks into my face. I tried to hold my breath, I succeeded in the first two minutes, but then I gave up. He had endless time, and my longue capacity is very limited. I took the first breath of his pheromone soaked socks. I felt the fog gaining in my head, covering my thoughts, my will, leaving nothing but blissfull obedience. I grabbed his feet and pushed it harder to my nose. I wanted more. It feels so good to just give up and submit.

Adam just laughed and said:

“I need to be more careful, else you will break out before the pheromones effect becomes pernament. Here, take my socks, and lets make a mask out of it for you. You wont feel anything else but the sweet scent of my feet mixed with the mind altering pheromones. You will become mine forever, sooner than you would think.”

“Just focus on my eyes… As you look into them you feel calm and relaxed. You have never felt like this before. All of a sudden a pleasing warmth fills your body as I stretch my legs towards you. Yes, it’s the smell of my feet. And you have just realized that it makes you feel good. And relaxed. And obedient. Because you feel it deep inside that as you inhale the cheesy ripe smell of my feed you get more and more obedient to me. And this is fine. This is how it should be. I command, you obey. I am the Master and you are the slave. It’s so simple to accept this as you look into my eyes and sniff my feet. You might also feel the urge to suck on my toe. To lick between my fingers. To clean my soles and get all the sweat for yourself. You are allowed to do so, you only need to do one single task for me. I want you to tell me, who are you to me.”

“I’m nothing but your worthless slave, Master. You command and I obey.”

I thought you already learnt who the boss is around here, but it seems that you need one more lesson. A final one. Just look into my eyes and relax. Remember how good it is to relax with me and let it happen even easier as before. The sweet musk of my crotch. The calming swishing sound of my trackies. The warmth of my body when I’m sitting on your face. All good, relaxing memories. Focus on these, and go under. Let you body collapse, fall on your knees and be completely mine once again.

You are so relaxed now, so open to my suggestions. Come closer now - so close that you can feel me. Take a deep breath of the air. Let yourself to feel everything. My shoes. My socks. My trackies. My balls. My cock. My cologne. A sweet mixture of musks and scents that you love. Let them fill your lungs. Let them spread allover your body, providing you the pleasure they always cause you. Good boy.

He just moved in to the apparent I was renting. We would share a flat: one room is mine, one is his. First I felt that everything will go smoothly, but then it turned out that he is lazy and messy. I on the other hand am precise and clean. That’s what my girlfriend loves about me. However while living with this guy basically I had to do the chores every day if I didn’t want to end up living in a garbage dump. I washed the dishes, cleaned up the room and did the washing. One day I had enough. I entered the bathroom to get a refreshing shower after finished with vacuum cleaning something rank hitted my nose. I found his socks, sneakers and red gym shorts left on the ground. Their smell filled the small bathroom, leaving no fresh air in it.

I grabbed all of them angrily and rushed inti his room. Those must have been his gym clotges as they had a really intense smell. A smell that one can not produce normally, only by lots of sweating and working out. I tried to keep them away from me, but the smell was invading every bit of fresg air around me. I started to get light headed, I felt dizzy. By the time I got to his room I almost blacked out. Somehow my anger existed only in my head, but I couldn’t feel it anymore. I knew I should be furious, that seemed to be rational, but I just couldn’t. There was I standing in his room, holding his smelly gym outfit in my hands and watching him. He looked back to me and smirked.

“Lift them to your face”

He said and my hand raised immediately, pushing the smelly package of clothes to my nose. I didn’t understand why I was doing what he tells me, it’s like I lost control of my motoric functions. I took deep breaths from his sweaty shorts. I felt the scent of sweat and piss mixing with the shorts natural smell. My cock got harder with each sniff. He just kept smirking.

“Kneel” he said and my knees started to shake and my body collapsed. He stood uo alnd walked to me pushing his shorts and socks even deeper in my nose. I started to moan. It felt so good to feel his powerful hands and his powerful smell. I knew if my girlfriend would saw us right now she would be freaked out, but I stopped caring about her. All that mattered was my new roommate and his smell.

He took his stuff out of my head, pulling hus shorts to my head to wear them and put his socks rigjt under my nose. Every smell was so intense. Wherever I turned it was there. I could look out on the holes for the legs. I saw him smiring and stroking too.

“Now boy remember. Whenever you feel this scent around you, you drop back again into this deep, obedient state. While you’re under my control you’ll do anything to please me. Nod your head if you understood and accepted it.” - the programming started. I wanted to fight, to resist, but my head started to move on it’s own acceping the suggestions. While I was nodding he gently held my head and pulled to his crotch. I started to kiss him, and it felt so natural. This is the last ting I remembered from that day. “

It’s took a while while I got used to my messy roommate, but finally I accepted that he will never make order in this apparent, and that’s okay for me. He is so much more superior than me, I’m glad to do the chores for him. One day we were at the flat with my girlfriend, just getting ready to some Netflix and chill when he came home. Ge wore his gym outfit, the same I found in the bathroom at that day. He said hi, sat next to me and pulled off his shoes. The smell of his feet instantly filled tge room, my nostrils and my mind. My cock started to throb and my thoughts just disappeared.

I want you to take a deep breath. Fill your lungs with the air, then exhale slowly. Let your body relax as you inhale… and exhale… Feel your body and mind getting more and more relaxed with each breath. It feels good, isn’t it? You don’t want to stop, don’t you? Good. Then keep on taking the deep breaths no matter what. Inhale… Exhale… You might have noticed something has changed. But the change is good. The relaxed feeling in your body increased tenfold with this change. You enjoy the scent you feel now. Keep on breathing. Let the smell fill your lungs. Press out the fresh air and inhale the smell of my feet. Let it spread in your body. Let it take control of you. Let it take you deeper and deeper under my control. You mind is so open for me. You follow every instruction I give you. You can’t help but to give in to me and my power… Take deep breaths… Smell my feet… Be mine…

I was in the gym, working out hard, pushing myself to reach my limits and beyond when a guy approached me. He askes me if I could spot for him. I was really in the flow, but I’m always up to help out a fellow gymrat, so I said okay. I tried to help as little as I could letting his muscles do as much work as possible, I just gave him a boost when I saw he was stuck. I saw his chest bulging, muscles stretching. Awesome. I did a great work. Poor guy barely could catch his breath to say: “You gave a great support. Thanks for the help. I could really use you in the future as well. ” I said no prob, feel free to catch me, then I turned around. He grabbed my hand and shook it.

Everything went black. My mind became quiet and calm. I heard the noise from the gym, but I didn’t care about it, I heard him talking to me, couldn’t understand any word. But I knew it was very important what he said to me.

I heard a snap. I slowly became aware of my surroundings. Surprisingly I was not in the gym but in a living room. On my knees. Before him. I have no idea about what happened and how I got here. All I knew was that I’m at the right place. It’s a shame that I didn’t realise it earlier that this guy from the gym is a god. So muscled. So handsome. And his trackies. And his bulge. Everything is perfect about him. He slowly kicked his sneakers down and revealed his smelly socks. All my focus went to them. I saw the stains. I saw that it’s still moist from the gym sweat. My dick started to throb, I felt my head and my nose being pulled into them. I started to kiss his feet and take deep breaths of the musky and smelly socks. I cummed. Into my pants. Two times. I felt powerless and exhausted, and I saw him stronger that ever. All I wanted was to submit to his will and serve him. And as I kissed and sniffed his feet this feeling intensified a hundred times. I felt I became completely his property. As I worshipped his feet he smirked and started to slowly stroke his dick trough his shiny trackies. I heard hus hand slipping on the silky fabric and I felt my dick throb again. My head moved automatically from his feet to his legs, kissing his soft trackies, inhaling his scent. I cummed again. Into my pants. Three times. My mind was blank agaim and as my head got closer to his bulge I felt his hands on my head, driving me. He controlled me without words and his touch took me to a different level in obedience. I wanted to suck. I wanted his cock. His cum. As I licked his cock trough his trackies all the way up and down I looked deeply into his eyes. I saw him smirking and enjoying my worship. My eyes were blank.

The Scent Pig Awakening

In the cozy living room of their East Syracuse apartment, Brock Harlan lounged on the gray sectional—black leather shirt stretched tight across his massive chest, the top buttons open to reveal a thick mat of dark hair glistening with a day’s sweat. His black cap sat low over his piercing eyes, and his powerful legs were spread wide in those glossy black leather pants, the heavy silver belt buckle catching the lamplight. He held his blue iPhone up like he was taking the ultimate selfie, but the smirk on his bearded face said he had something far more devious in mind.

His roommate, Kyle Simmons, straight acting to the core, athletic and carried that cocky easy confidence, shuffled in from his shift at the warehouse, still in his work boots and jeans, looking beat but still hot “Dude, you look like you’re about to film an OnlyFans ad, where did you get those clothes from? ” Kyle joked, dropping his keys on the coffee table. “I thought we talked about the boots and the smell man?” He motioned to the pile of dirty boots by the door

Brock chuckled, low and commanding. “Just something I found and I wanted to try on. Come here, for a second I want to show you something.” He patted the cushion right next to him. “Found this deep-relaxation script online and figure it might help you out since you work so much.”

Kyle rolled his eyes but plopped down anyway, too tired to argue. “Is this more hypnosis shit? You know it won’t work.. I got thing to do and Kayla is waiting for me.”

Brock was insistent and kept patting the couch and said “come one man this will help I promise”

Kyle finally relented… “Whatever, man… Make it quick and just don’t make me cluck like a chicken okay..” He said mockingly.

Brock turned the phone screen toward Kyle’s face. A slow, swirling spiral glowed on it—something he’d downloaded earlier. His deep, steady voice filled the room. “Just watch the screen and listen to me. Breathe in… breathe out… Let your eyes follow the swirl. Good. Your body’s getting heavy. Arms, legs, eyelids… all sinking deeper with every breath.”

Kyle’s shoulders slumped almost immediately. His eyes glazed over, fixed on the hypnotic pattern. Brock smirked as he finally had the little prick right where he wanted him. After months of the walking around shirtless with his masculine swagger and living the perfect life with his perfect job and girlfriend he was finally going to put him in his place. He didn’t hate Kyle..no he just wanted him and the final straw had been him bitching about the smell of his boots and how he blew Brock off when he flirted, saying “I not interested,” in that cocky tone.

“That’s it,” Brock murmured, his leather shirt creaking as he leaned in closer. The rich, warm scent of worn leather and masculine musk already filled the space between them. “You’re going deep now, Kyle. Deeper than you’ve ever been. And when you’re this deep, my words become your truth. You obey me completely.”

Kyle nodded slowly, lips parted, completely under.

Brock’s voice dropped even lower, smooth as the leather hugging his thighs. “From this moment on, you are my scent pig slave, Kyle. Nothing makes you happier or hornier than sniffing my scent. You crave it. The smell of my dirty, nasty feet after I’ve been in these boots all day—sweaty, rank, cheesy—that thick, sharp stink makes your cock throb and your mouth water.”

He let that sink in, watching Kyle’s breathing quicken.

“My balls… heavy, sweaty, musky after a long day of working out and being in these tight leather pants. That nasty, salty, man-stink is your favorite drug. You’ll press your nose right against them and sniff like a pig in heat. And my ass—especially after I’ve been sitting in this leather all day—that deep, earthy, raunchy scent? You’ll worship it. You’ll beg to bury your face between my cheeks and breathe it in until you’re dizzy.”

Brock’s hand rested on his own thick leather-clad thigh, the material shining under the lamp. “But most of all, Kyle… the smell of my leather. This shirt, these pants, the boots—every inch of it soaked with my sweat, my body heat, my natural musk mixed with that rich, leather aroma. That scent owns you. It turns you into a desperate, snorting scent pig slave who lives to huff every inch of my gear. You get hard the second you smell it. You can’t think straight until you’ve pressed your face into it like the pathetic little pig you are.”

He snapped his fingers once, sharp and loud.

Kyle blinked, coming out of the trance with a soft, confused smile. “Whoa… that was weird. I feel… kinda fuzzy.”

Brock grinned and kicked one heavy black boot up onto the coffee table, right in front of Kyle. The leather creaked. Kyle’s eyes widened. His nostrils flared. Without thinking, he slid off the couch onto his knees, leaned forward, and shoved his face right against the warm, worn leather of Brock’s boot. He inhaled deeply—long, greedy snorts—and a low, needy moan escaped him.

“Fuck… Brock… your boots smell so fucking good I can’t stop smelling them,” he mumbled, voice already thick with lust. He nuzzled harder, tongue flicking out to taste the leather.

Brock laughed softly, reaching down to pat Kyle’s head like a good pet. “That’s right. You’re my scent pig now. You always said you hated it when I would come home stinking up the place.. now you can’t get enough of it”

He spread his legs wider, the leather pants stretching obscenely over his bulge. Kyle’s eyes flicked upward, already glassy with need, drawn to the warm, musky heat radiating from Brock’s crotch.

Brock watched with a satisfied grin as Kyle nuzzled deeper into the warm, worn leather of his boot, snorting like a pig in heat. The scent pig’s eyes were half-lidded, cheeks flushed, a visible bulge already straining in his jeans.

“Good boy,” Brock rumbled, his voice thick with arousal. He pressed his boot a little firmer against Kyle’s eager face. “But sniffing’s just the start. You love the taste too, pig. That salty, musky flavor straight from my skin and leather. It’s even better than the smell. You crave it on your tongue. Lick.” Brock Commanded

Kyle moaned loudly as the new command sank straight into his hypnotized mind. He didn’t hesitate. His tongue slid out, dragging slow and hungry across the shiny black leather, tasting the days of sweat, dust, and that deep, earthy leather aroma mixed with Brock’s natural musk. “Mmmph… fuck, it tastes so good,” he gasped between long, sloppy licks, eyes rolling back. “Your boots… so salty… so nasty… I need more.”

Brock chuckled darkly and pulled his foot back, kicking both heavy boots off with a thud. His socked feet—damp, warm, and rank from being trapped in leather all day—were presented next. The thick, cheesy odor hit Kyle like a drug. “Go on. Taste them properly.”

Kyle dove in immediately, burying his face between Brock’s big, sweaty feet, licking the soles through the damp socks first, then yanking the socks off with his teeth when Brock allowed it. He lapped greedily at the bare skin—tongue swirling between toes, sucking on them like a cock, savoring the sharp, vinegary tang of dirty foot sweat. “Tastes so fucking good… your nasty feet, man… I’m your pig sir…”

Brock’s cock was rock-hard inside the tight leather pants. He stood up, towering over his roommate, the leather shirt creaking as he peeled it open further. “Keep going pig. You love the taste of all of me.”

Kyle crawled forward on his knees, nose and tongue tracing up Brock’s leather-thighs until his face was pressed right into the bulging crotch. The heavy, masculine scent was overwhelming—sweat-soaked leather mixed with the ripe aroma of Brock’s balls. Brock unzipped slowly, letting his thick, heavy cock and low-hanging balls spill out. They were sweaty, musky, and slightly sticky from the long day encased in leather.

Kyle whimpered like he’d found heaven. He buried his face underneath, licking and sucking on Brock’s balls with desperate hunger, tongue bathing every inch, tasting the salty sweat and that deep, funky ball-musk. “So good… your balls taste amazing… nasty and perfect…” He sucked one into his mouth, then the other, moaning around them.

Brock groaned, gripping Kyle’s hair. “That’s my good little scent pig slave. Taste my ass next.”

He turned around, shoved his leather pants down just enough to expose his firm, hairy ass, still warm and sweaty from sitting in the tight leather. Kyle didn’t need another command—he dove right in, face buried between the cheeks, tongue lapping eagerly at the musky, tangy hole. He licked deep, tasting every bit of Brock’s natural flavor, snorting and moaning like the total addict he now was.

Brock reached back and held Kyle’s head in place. “Yeah… eat it. You live for this now. The smell and the taste of my dirty feet, balls, ass, and every inch of my leather. You’re mine.”

Kyle could only mumble in agreement, lost in his new purpose—licking, sucking, and worshipping every sweaty, leathery inch while his own cock leaked helplessly in his pants. Kyle was a complete mess on his knees—face flushed, eyes glassy with pure addiction, tongue hanging out as he panted like a dog in heat.

“You’re mine now, pig,” Brock growled, gripping Kyle’s hair tight. “Totally owned. Say it.”

“I’m your scent pig, Brock,” Kyle moaned immediately, voice hoarse. “I belong to you… I live for your smell and taste.”

Brock smirked and shoved Kyle’s face back into his ass, smothering him completely. Kyle dove in with desperate hunger, licking deep between the cheeks, tongue swirling around the sweaty, musky hole while he snorted loudly. The taste—salty, earthy, raw—drove him wild. He couldn’t get enough, burying himself deeper, moaning and whimpering as Brock ground back against his face.

After several long minutes of rimming, Brock pulled away and turned around, slapping his heavy, spit-slick cock across Kyle’s cheeks. “Open up.”

Kyle obeyed instantly, mouth wide. Brock fed him his cock in one go, sliding deep until Kyle’s nose was pressed into his pubes. The thick, sweaty musk filled Kyle’s lungs as he sucked greedily, tongue working every inch, savoring the salty precum.

“That’s it… choke on your owner’s cock,” Brock groaned, fucking Kyle’s throat with slow, powerful strokes. Kyle’s eyes watered but he never pulled back—he pushed forward instead, gagging happily, drooling all over Brock’s leather pants and balls. Every breath was pure Brock: leather, sweat, musk, and dominance.

Brock eventually pulled out, strings of spit connecting Kyle’s lips to his cock. He sat back down on the couch—legs spread wide, leather creaking—and pointed at his boots.

“Clean them, pig. With your tongue. Then you’re getting fucked.”

Kyle crawled forward like an animal in heat, licking every inch of the discarded boots inside and out, moaning at the intense foot sweat and leather taste. When he finished, Brock yanked him up onto the couch, bent him over the armrest, and shoved his thick cock straight into Kyle’s ass in one rough thrust.

Kyle cried out in pleasure, pushing back. “Yes, own me… use your pig!”

Brock pounded him hard, the sound of leather slapping skin filling the room. One hand gripped Kyle’s hair, the other reached around to shove sweaty fingers into Kyle’s mouth. Kyle sucked them clean, lost in total submission—every thrust, every breath, every drop of sweat reinforcing that he was now Brock’s personal scent pig, owned completely, body and mind.

Brock stayed buried deep inside Kyle for a long moment, letting his cum drip down the younger man’s thighs. He finally pulled out, slapped Kyle’s ass hard, and sat back on the couch like a king—leather shirt open, pants around his ankles, thick cock still half-hard and glistening.

“Stay on your knees, pig,” he ordered.

Brock leaned forward, his deep voice taking on that same calm, commanding hypnosis tone from earlier. “Listen carefully, slave. These rules are burned into your mind. They’re permanent. You will obey them without question.”

Rule One: You are my total slave now. My property. My personal scent pig. Your only purpose is to serve me—my feet, my balls, my ass, my cock, my leather, my every need. You will call Kayla and dump her.

Rule Two: Every morning you will wake up in this apartment feeling completely normal. You’ll remember nothing about any of this. You’ll shower, get dressed, go to your warehouse job like a regular guy, and act completely normal all day. No one will suspect a thing.

Rule Three: The second you walk through that front door after work you become my desperate, eager scent pig again. You’ll drop to your knees, strip, and start sniffing and tasting wherever I tell you—my dirty boots, my sweaty balls, my ass, my leather gear. No hesitation. No limits.

Rule Four: Nights and weekends belong to me completely. You serve nonstop—cleaning my leather with your tongue, burying your face in my crotch or ass, taking my cock whenever and wherever I want. You eat when I allow it, usually off the floor or from my hand.

Rule Five: Everything you own is now mine. Your paycheck, your savings, your truck, your clothes, your video games— all of it. You’ll hand it over the second I tell you. You get nothing except what I decide to give you.

Rule Six: You sleep in a cage, faced buried in my ass or balls or on the floor at the foot of my bed like the animal you are. No blankets unless I’m feeling generous. Your pillow is my dirty socks or underwear.

Brock snapped his fingers twice. Kyle blinked, the suggestions locking deep into his subconscious.

“Repeat the rules back to me, slave.”

Kyle’s voice came out husky and obedient. “I’m your total slave… your scent pig. I will break up with Kayla…I go to work normal and forget everything… but the second I get home I serve you. Nights and weekends, I’m yours completely. Everything I have is yours. I sleep where you tell me…”

“Good pig.” Brock smiled and shoved his bare, sweaty foot into Kyle’s face again. Kyle immediately started licking and sucking between the toes, moaning with fresh hunger.

“Tomorrow you’ll wake up like nothing happened,” Brock continued casually while Kyle worshipped. “But tonight? You’re sleeping with your nose pressed against my balls. And in the morning, before you leave for work, you’re going to sign over your next paycheck to me.”

Kyle whimpered in agreement, tongue working eagerly, already lost in the taste and smell of his new owner.

Brock leaned back, perfectly content. His roommate was now fully broken in—his secret, eager, 24/7 scent slave—and the best part was, Kyle would never remember enough to fight it or tell anyone.

He owned him completely.

Epilogue:

Life in the apartment had settled into a perfect, filthy routine.

Every morning Kyle Simmons woke up, always naked, with his face buried in stink . He’d blink, feel strangely satisfied, shower, put on his work clothes, and head to the warehouse like any other guy. He even joked with his coworkers and wondered why his bank account kept dropping—but he never questioned it. Brock owned everything now: Kyle’s truck, his savings, his paycheck were deposited straight into Brock’s account.

The second Kyle stepped through the front door after work, the switch flipped. He’d drop his lunchbox, strip naked, and crawl straight to wherever Brock was sitting—usually in a black leather outfit. Within seconds his face would be buried in Brock’s sweaty boots, licking and sniffing like a desperate animal while Brock relaxed and had all his needs met.

Nights were for total service: long, sloppy foot worship, ball cleaning, deep rimming, and getting fucked raw on the couch, the floor, or bent over the coffee table. Weekends were even better—Kyle spent hours locked in the small metal cage Brock had bought, only let out to serve as a human urinal, boot polisher, or living fuck toy. He slept every night either curled up in the cage, chained on the floor or with his face pressed between Brock’s cheeks or against his heavy, musky balls.

Brock had never been happier. His perfect, brainwashed scent pig roommate was completely broken in—paying all the bills, keeping the leather gear spotless with his tongue, and living only to inhale and taste his owner.