My big brotherâs best friend Anthony had been around my whole life. He was as straight as my brother, a total gym rat whoâs primary interest was video games and puss*. I donât remember when exactly, but at some point I started stealing whiffs of Anthony and my brothers rank shoes when they would be in the basement playing video games. He would come over at least 3 nights a week and theyâd just spend hours down there gaming and talking about chicks, while Iâd be nonchalantly finding reasons to walk past the front door so that I could bend over and dive face-first into their shoes.
One day, Anthony came up to use the toilet and I didnât know. He came around the corner to find me buried in his dirty, obviously rank shoes, but he didnât say anything. He stopped for a second, looked down at the tent in my shorts and chuckled briefly before continuing back down to the basement, without a single word.
Years later, after my brother moved away to start a new life, Anthony hit me up. He had been struggling to keep a job, as he was rather lazy and didnât like to work. He knew that I had a successful career, and apparently remembered how much I liked his feet, because he told me in his email that he had a proposition for me. He said that he would make me his foot slave if I agree to give him half of my income.
I was intrigued, and knew that I could afford it, so I offered to meet him. We met at a nice restaurant, i of course agreed to pay for us both, and we discussed it further. He told me that his parents were going to throw him out if he didnât find a steady income soon, and that heâs had several jobs but couldnât stand any one of them, and inevitably ended up quitting or getting fired for poor attendance from each one. I understood his situation, and desperately wanted to be his foot slave, so I agreed.
He told me to pay for his meal and then to go buy a small, metal chastity belt to put on. He told me that he was repulsed by the idea of me touching myself while thinking about his feet, so enforced chastity would be a mandatory part of the deal. He told me once I had it locked on and had my first payment that he would come to my house to collect the keys and my payment, and Iâd finally get to drag my tongue across his rank soles.
That was five years ago, and not a thing has changed. Anthony lied to his family and told them he found a descent job, they all believed it and couldnât be more proud. Iâve spent the last 5 years supporting him entirely, all while locked in chastity and constantly being fed his grimy foot sweat. We live together in âhisâ townhouse that I paid for, only I stay in the basement and out of his way unless he needs me to clean his feet or do some other menial chore for him.
Iâm licking his feet right now, after a long day of playing basketball with some friends out in the park without socks, when he starts chuckling loudly. âHey fag, I just had a chat with your brother. Heâs coming to town next week, I told him he could stay in the guest room. I canât wait to catch up, itâs been too long.â He told me, all while luxuriously wiggling his toes in my face. âWhile heâs here I expect total obedience out of you, donât forget who and what you are. You will still be responsible for all domestic chores, you will still cook and serve all meals to us BOTH, and you will follow any order that my guest has to give, no matter how humiliating or ridiculous, do you understand me?â He said, moving his foot away for a moment to glare into my eyes. I meekly responded with a âyes sirâ
âGood boy. Iâll be testing you while heâs here, and I expect absolutely zero fuck-ups. Heâs not your brother anymore, you are a slave and he is your masterâs best friend, and you WILL treat him accordingly.â All I could do was keep licking his feet and dread what was to come next weekâŚ
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