Untitled

Losing Everything Beneath Ted’s Feet

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’ll see about that,” Ted taunted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” I questioned, distracted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” Ted teased.

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

“Kiss my foot and maybe I’ll do it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, I guess I’ll—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” I asked naively.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It is so far off, huh…”

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

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

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

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

“I’ll win this one, just watch!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Teeeed…” I whined.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, what?” He demanded.

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

“That’s it faggot.” He sneered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And whose faggot are you?”

“Yours, an alpha males, sir!”

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

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

-

-

-

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

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

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

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

Losing Everything Beneath Ted’s Feet

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We’ll see about that,” Ted taunted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” I questioned, distracted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” Ted teased.

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

“Kiss my foot and maybe I’ll do it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, I guess I’ll—“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really?” I asked naively.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It is so far off, huh…”

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

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

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

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

“I’ll win this one, just watch!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Teeeed…” I whined.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, what?” He demanded.

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

“That’s it faggot.” He sneered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And whose faggot are you?”

“Yours, an alpha males, sir!”

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

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

-

-

-

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

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

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

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

Warning; LONG (~8.5K words) and not including a "keep reading" link in case this blog goes down some day :/

An old story of mine that's floating around here on tumblr already but hosted on one of my blogs that got deleted, here it is again in case & to find it easier;

John was sitting at his armchair in his living room, thinking for a long while. Would it work well? He thought it would. He looked up at the clock and saw the time. It was a quarter to 3. If the guy who emailed him was serious about this, he would be getting off the train at 3:15. John got up, grabbed his coat, and left his house.

The train pulled into the station. People got out. John sat in his car, waiting for the guy who had reached out to him. He stepped off the train, just as he said he would. He was short, a scrawny nerdy looking guy with blond hair and glasses, not too shabby an outfit. Sweater over a shirt and khakis. He was probably a tech guy. He was scanning the parking lot for John’s car, and when he saw it, he paused. Maybe he was second guessing? Whatever nerves had caused him to pause, he dropped them and walked toward John’s car, a slight tremble in his steps. In that moment, John felt the urge to fart. He held it in. John’s cock was hard in his pants.

“Ben?” He rolled down the window.

“Yeah, John?” He gulped.

“Come in.”

He got into the car and buckled his seatbelt, “Thanks for picking me up,”

“Yeah of course. Besides, no offense, but I don’t give my address out to people who might flake.” He turned out of the parking lot, “You still want to do this?”

“Yeah,” Ben was smiling wide. He thought John looked even hotter in person; rugged black hair and scruff, a strong physique…he had seen naked pictures and knew he was hairy under those clothes.

“Good. Do you want lunch or anything?” John gave out a little laugh, “Will probably be your last good meal for a while,”

“No it’s ok, I ate before I got on the train,” Ben was shaking now. John grimaced. He didn’t want to bring this stranger to his house if he started having doubts and backing out. But there was not much he could do. In the email, he was clear that Ben was allowed to say no at any point before they start. After they started, Ben would have no choice. That part turned Ben on, he’d said.

They reached his house. It was an ordinary single story house. It didn’t stand out from the others in the neighborhood. It had a chimney, but John didn’t use the fireplace for years.

“You know, I’m still surprised that you found my ad,” John said as they got out of the car. “I thought that site would have taken it down by now.”

“Nope, it’s, uh, still up.” Ben had gone quiet in the car. John could tell he was nervous. Once they got into the house, Ben asked “Ok so, where is it?”

John smiled again. Maybe the nerves were because of excitement. “Follow me.”

He brought him into the living room. It was relatively small. His armchair was against one wall. The couch was against the other. Three large windows looked into the back yard. Across from the armchair was the TV. John gestured toward the armchair, “Here it is, just like I told you.”

Ben was trembling a lot now, and he looked at the chair, his eyes glued to the seat. “It really works the way you said, in the email?” His voice was faint.

“Yep. I’ll go over just to be clear,” With a grunt, he pulled the chair away from the wall. Ben couldn’t believe what he was looking at. It was exactly as it was in the pictures. The same pictures he had been jerking off to for the past week.

It was a large square hole in the wall. John had explained that it was where the fireplace used to be, but he didn’t want to pay extra for gas so he had it removed. Instead of patching up the wall, he left the hole. He’d also done a lot of DIY. He expanded the back of the wall, which took some space out of his bedroom closet but he didn’t mind that. He built a small drain that went down into the house’s sewage pipes. Just above that was a long board with wheels, what resembles a hospital gurnee. There were straps around it. There was also a hole in the middle of the board.

“Alright,” John sighed, his arms on his waist, “So…to recap. You’ll lay down here. I’ll strap your arms, ankles, legs, and chest in so you can’t move. You’ll be naked and your ass will go in that hole. I’ll put a funnel system around your dick and under your ass. That way, you don’t have to come out for the restroom or anything, you can just go into that hole. Kind of gross but it takes care of that problem at least.”

Ben gulped, “Ok,”

“You’ll be completely strapped and so, won’t move around. Then, I”ll put the chair over you. As I showed you,” He gestured toward the back of the chair, the bottom of it was hollowed out, “I fixed this old armchair up so that the cushion has a rim-chair built into it. When I put the chair back in place, I will turn the knobs on the gurnee and it will lift you up so that your face is at the seat level. See?” He unveiled the top of the seat, which looked like a normal cushion at first but turned out to be a thin fabric hiding the rim-chair. “Your face will be in that hole. And…uh, yeah that’s it. I’ll sit on your face as long as I want.”

Ben’s heart was pounding. John continued, “This fabric is in case I have friends over. Which I will, tomorrow night. I invited some buddies to come watch the game. Don’t worry, none of them will be sitting in this seat. Your face belongs to my ass only,” He smiled wide, “Just as I said in my emails, when you are my chair, you have no rights. You cannot say you want out at any time. If I need to fart, I’m farting up your nose. If I want my hole licked, I’ll sit on you naked and that will be your only cue. The only time you matter is when I ask if you are hungry or thirsty, and I’ll give you food and water. Otherwise, you don’t give me instructions. I’m not interested in conversation, because I don’t talk to chairs. If you are uncomfortable and want me to loosen the straps, too bad. If you’re sick of my farts, too bad. As we agreed, you belong to me for the next 48 hours. There are no safe words. If you want out now, I’ll take you back home. But the minute I put you in the wall is the minute you belong to me. If at any point in the next 48 hours you want to stop, and go home…too bad. My ass is your home until the weekend’s over. Do you understand?”

Ben’s face was white. He’d been jerking off to this kind of fantasy for so long, and when he found John’s ad online, he couldn’t contain his excitement. But now that he was in the house, he was terrified. It was too real for him. What if he hated it? What if in the very first minute he hates it after all? He’d never done something like this before. He’d never actually been smothered under a man’s ass, he’d never sniffed farts, never done anything kinky like this. If it turns out he doesn’t like it…he’ll be stuck as a human chair for two days.

“Do you understand?” John was deliberate.

“Yes sir,” Ben gulped, “I…I’m sorry this is just so hardcore…I’ve heard of people doing these things but I haven’t really done BDSM stuff with anyone,”

“Do you want to call it quits?” John asked again. “I won’t be mad.” That wasn’t entirely true. He would be annoyed and disappointed if the only person who responded to his ad decided to say no at the literal last minute. He’d been dying to try out his new toy for months. But he was still a good guy. He wouldn’t pressure anyone into doing it. In the emails, Ben seemed very excited. Maybe he was more in love with the idea of being a human chair than actually doing it. John would cut him slack since he has never dipped into bondage play before.

And Ben was nervous. He stared at the hole for a long time. The silence was more awkward with each passing second. Finally he took a deep breath, “No, I…I’m ready.”

“Ok. Take off your clothes.”

Ben stripped. As he undressed, his face was flushed. John seemed like a nice guy over their email conversation. But how could he put so much trust in a stranger on the internet? The only solace that Ben had was knowing that in these last few moments before they started, he was in complete control. At any second he could say “Nope” and go back home. But that window of time was getting smaller and smaller. John had pulled the gurnee out from the hole in the wall. There were seven straps. Two for each ankle, two for each wrist, one for his thighs, one for his chest, and one for the neck. There was a little padded indent at the front where his head would rest, two little rounded poles came up on either side. He didn’t know what they were for.

“Alright, if you are ready, lay down on your back.”

Ben stood in the living room naked. His cock had gone hard and was throbbing. He knew that once he was strapped in, he wouldn’t be able to touch himself at all for the whole weekend. That was part of the fun.

“And I’ll take your glasses for you,” He said. Ben took them off and handed them over. John asked, “can you see at all without these?”

“A little,” he shrugged, blinking, “I can’t see far away.”

“Ok. Not that it matters, you won’t be looking at anything but my asshole.” He picked up Ben’s clothes and put them on the table.

Ben sat down on the gurnee and got into position. Laying down, his ass was over the hole. When he had to go, he would just relieve himself into the tube that John would set up. That was the worst part, to him in the moment, thinking how disgusting and unhygienic it was. But he wouldn't have another choice. John had suggested wearing an adult diaper, but that sounded even worse.

Ben tightened the straps around his ankles. Then he tightened the strap over his thighs. Then, around his wrists. Ben’s heart was beating too fast. He tried to control his breathing. John tightened the strap over his chest. Almost as a reflex, Ben jerked his body a bit but he couldn’t move at all. Delicately, John guided Ben’s head down on the padding, and carefully wrapped the strap around his neck and tightened it just enough to keep him from moving his head up. Ben gulped, he felt the strap. He could still breathe fine at least. John moved over to fit a large tube over Ben’s dick, and pointed the other end of it down the hole in the gurnee between Ben’s legs. He set up a similar tube under Ben’s ass. Then, John turned some knob near Ben’s head, and the two poles on either side came together and pressed into his temples just above his ears. They weren’t tight, but they were set in place so Ben couldn’t turn his face to the side. He was completely immobile.

“Alright. This is your last chance,” John stood over him, his crotch was at the level of Ben’s face. From here, Ben saw John at a glorious angle. He looked so tall, buff, powerful, a dominant man. “Are you absolutely sure you want to go through with this?”

Ben nodded as much as the poles and straps allowed him to, “Yes sir. I…I need to be your chair. It’s my destiny” Ben’s cock was throbbing against his belly.

John smiled widely. His crotch was bulging. He had been horny since they started talking online. “You have no idea how much I’m going to love this. This has been my fantasy for years but I couldn’t find guys who were into it. You’ll be my first chair. You should be honored.”

Ben gulped, his face was burning red, “I…I’m very honored sir. I hope I serve you well.”

“You only have three jobs once you’re in there,” John said, “First, sniff all of my farts. I don’t want to smell a single one. Second, eat out my asshole whenever I’m naked. Third, don’t talk unless you are asking for food and water.”

“…ok,” Ben’s voice had gone weak. He was starting to feel dread now. Excited and horny, but also dreading if he’d made the wrong choice. But it was too late to say anything. He had to go through with it. As he said, this weekend is his destiny now.

It was settled. John slowly pushed the gurnee into the old fireplace, lining it up right. He had sealed off the chimney long ago, so it wouldn’t be cold in there. Ben’s body was completely hidden in the wall. Only his head and shoulders were sticking out, held down on the gurnee. Using his feet, John kicked down the wheel stops so that the gurnee couldn’t move if Ben shook around. John then pushed the chair back in place against the wall. Then, he got on his knees and stuck his hand under the chair. He found another knob and twisted it a few times to lift the gurnee up. As promised, Ben’s nose peaked through the hole in the seat. John stood up, and saw through the built-in rim seat, Ben’s face was the only part of him exposed. John grabbed the fabric from earlier and reminded him, “This is only to cover you for when my friends are here tomorrow. Don’t worry, they won’t see you. But it is thin enough that my ass will mold over your face and you will still get to smell everything.”

“Um, John,” Ben was shivering, “can we…or, ok, wait, pause, can we just do this for maybe half an hour at first, just to test it so I can see what it’s like before we do the full two days,”

John burst out laughing. It sounded evil in the moment. Ben’s face went white this time, the same dread creeped back. John said “I just told you minutes ago that don’t have conversations with chairs. No normal person speaks to a chair. But since you’re new to this I’ll let it slide. Your time for negotiation is over. If you wanted to only do half an hour, you should have said so in the email. But nooo…you’re pathetic little dick was throbbing when I said 48 hours. Remember you told me that? Throbbing. You loved the time we picked. So I’m sticking with it. It is,” he looked at the clock, “4pm Friday. Meaning that you will be here until 4pm Sunday afternoon. And now I’m done talking to you.” He sighed. Ben was whimpering. He was afraid he’d made a terrible mistake.

“I have been holding this fart in since I picked you up from the train,” John smiled again, “And you’re going to vacuum suck it out of my jeans.” he turned around. His ass looked huge from this angle, and he slowly lowered it over Ben’s face. The cushion supported his butt cheeks, and lightly spread them in his pants. They molded over Ben’s face. John shifted around until he felt the tip of Ben’s nose wedge up against his asshole. Now John was shaking. His cock was hard. He gripped the armrests of the chair and pushed.

PPPPPPRRRRRRRRRRRRR

The fart came out much louder than he thought it would be. It vibrated deep into the chair. He burst out laughing. He felt Ben cry out into his ass, and he heard the gurnee wheels squeak. He was buckling around down there, making the gurnee shake a bit, but John knew it wouldn’t move. And he knew that there was nothing Ben could do to get his face out from his ass. The straps and post made it so he had no choice but to keep his head up, and if John wanted to fart directly into his nostrils, he could. And definitely would.

“Again, I’ll be nice since you’re new to this,” John cleared his throat, “You can’t be making any noise down there. The next 24 hours will be great practice for you to suck in my farts without freaking out and screaming.”

He felt Ben settle down, and felt him sniff and cough into his ass cheeks. John said, “Ok and also you really need to not cough or gag or anything. Anyway, now we can start for real.”

And with that, John stopped talking. Because why would he talk to a chair? He flipped on the TV and watched an old sitcom rerun. He felt a silent but deadly fart seep out and warm his butt. He shivered in delight, feeling extra comfortable in his new chair. If anyone else lived in the house with him, walking by they would just see John sitting in his favorite chair watching TV, and not think twice.

…

The next couple hours were uneventful. The sun set and it got dark in the house quick. John had some lights on and was still watching the show. At one point he got up to grab a bag of chips. As he stood up, he heard his chair coughing and sucking in fresh air. John laughed. In the kitchen he poured some chips into a bowl. Then he walked right back to the living room and sat down. Obedient so far. He didn’t have that much gas. Just a few short, quiet farts whispered out of his ass. They must have stunk pretty badly because each time, he felt muffled coughing against his butt cheeks, and heard the gurnee shake a bit. John had a huge smile on his face, and he was hard the whole time.

At around 7pm he turned off the TV, got up, and went to the kitchen to make some dinner. Nothing special. Leftover beef tacos. Even though it wasn’t healthy for him, he heated it up with a heaping handful of pre-shredded cheese. His grin was so wide. He’d mentioned in earlier emails that he was lactose intolerant, and that he would purposefully eat dairy so that he had more frequent and more foul smelling gas. In Ben’s reply, he said “my cock is drooling at the thought”. So, why not stick to his word? He’ll feel gross for the rest of the night, but at least John wouldn’t have to smell any of his own farts. He quietly ate his tacos in the kitchen, texting his friends about what beer he should get for the party tomorrow.

Closer to 8pm, he came back to the living room. He wanted so badly to look down at his chair again, but part of the fun was not acknowledging Ben as a person. He had to treat the chair like he would treat any other chair; with apathy, and disinterest. He sat back down, shifting a bit and feeling his cheeks separate so that Ben’s face wedged into his ass again. He puckered his hole to make sure that it was right over his nose.

“Ugh, I shouldn’t have put cheese in those tacos” he pretended he was talking to himself, “My ass is gonna be ripping up a storm tonight.”

He sat back and turned the TV on again. This time he watched the next episode of his favorite cop drama.

His guts gurgled. His dick got hard. He knew that his chair had heard the gurgling too. John could feel his face scrunch up, embracing for impact. He grunted,

PRPRRRRRT

A wet sounding fart sputtered out of his ass. John sighed. He felt the chair sniff, and then it made a violent gagging noise. Again, he felt the chair shake a little as Ben’s body jerked as a reflex. John held back laughter. His own lactose farts made him feel queasy. He couldn’t imagine how unbearable they had to be injected right up the nose. He looked at the clock. Only 45 more hours to go.

At 9pm he got up, and to his surprise, the chair spoke,

“John can we do a time out,”

“Huh?” He looked around, pretending that he was alone, “That’s funny, I could have sworn I heard someone speak even though there’s no other human in the house,”

“John I’m serious,” the chair pleaded, “Your farts stink really fucking bad, I need a break,”

John grit his teeth, and said, “Ok, quicktime out. Yeah, of course they stink. They’re farts. Not rose perfume. Second, you don’t get breaks, remember? You are my chair.”

“Yeah,” Ben’s voice was faint, defeated. They’d already talked about this at length over email, but it wasn’t until that moment that Ben had internalized the reality of it.

“Now, I’ve been way too nice to you so far,” John continued, “So if you speak without permission again, I’m not going to be nice. Ok?”

The chair didn’t say anything.

“Good chair.” John nodded. “You hungry?”

“Yes sir.”

John went into the kitchen to make food. Ben stared up at the ceiling, his whole body trembling. This was really happening. He couldn’t stand John’s noxious farts. Each one made him feel sick to his stomach. But he had no choice. Just as he promised, he was completely at the mercy of John’s ass. In the dark hole in the wall, a pearl of precum dripped out of Ben’s cock.

John came back with bowl of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. The smell of tacos when John got up earlier had made his stomach growl, and he wished he would have gotten more food than this. But he couldn’t complain. John had to spoon feed him the soup, and he tore the sandwich into small bites to drop into his mouth. Didn’t want to get the rest of the chair dirty. He then let Ben gulp down a glass of water.

Without asking if he was satisfied, John sat right back down in the chair. He had a devilish smile on his face, because he had been holding in more gas since he got up.

PRRPTRTTTTTTTTT

The fart sounded like it came from deep in his bowls. Again, he felt the chair jerking around under him. He continued to watch TV.

Close to 10pm, John turned the TV off and got up. He went into the bathroom, got undressed, and turned on the shower. He stood outside, waiting for the water to get hot. His body was covered in black hair, especially on his arms, legs, and ass cheeks. He got into the shower and started to shampoo his hair. He rinsed, put in some conditioner, and lathered his hands in body wash. He kept his ass sticking out of the shower curtain. He didn’t want a single drop of water to touch it. Why wash your ass in the shower when you had a chair with a built in asshole cleaner? Out of curiosity, he did two things. First, he brought his ass back into the shower, still away from the water, and ripped a fart. It echoed off the tiles. He sniffed the air. It was like old cheese in rotting egg salad. The stink actually made him gag. He started laughing. That was what he would be feeding his chair for the next few days. His cock was hard, but he decided to wait to take care of it.

The second thing he did, after he dried himself off, was to rub his index finger in his ass crack, then bring it up to his nose to smell. Not atrocious, but not…good. It’s a man’s ass at the end of the day, of course it wouldn’t smell good. Again he shivered. He washed his hands, then he brushed his teeth. He went into his room, still naked, and grabbed a blanket. Then he walked back to the living room.

His cock had gone down a bit, but it was at half mast when he reached the chair. Briefly, he looked into Ben’s eyes, before turning around and sitting down. Now he felt the skin of his face wedge into his ass crack. Luckily he didn’t have to repeat the rule about nudity, because the chair remembered to start licking. John draped the blanket over himself, and opened a book he had left on the table.

For the next few hours, John was in ecstasy. It was so warm and comfortable. He loved the feeling of being fresh out of the shower, comfy and naked in a blanket, curled up with a good book, and feeling a hot moist tongue work his asshole. It was hard for him to focus on the book, because, despite how much he wanted to dehumanize and ignore him, Ben was the only thing on John’s mind. He thought that at any moment, he could easily fart into his mouth. But it was still day one, John thought he’d give him a bit more time to get used to these arrangements before he pushed the boundaries. The devil on his shoulder was excited. He couldn’t wait until tomorrow, when he would get to hear his chair gagging on the fart he’ll rip down its throat.

As the hours passed, the tongue was moving slower and slower. There were a few minutes where it stopped completely. John would clear his throat, and a moment later it would start back up again. He looked at the clock. It was nearing 1am.

8 hours had passed. Another 40 to go. John wished he could just fall asleep in his chair, and force Ben to endure his night farts. His dick was hard at the idea of him being fast asleep, and his unconscious body letting out a disgusting fart right up Ben’s nose. So badly, he wanted to sleep on top of Ben, keeping Ben from sleeping and forcing him to be conscious with his putrid asshole over his nose. But unfortunately, John couldn’t fall asleep in a chair. He had to lay down. So, he put the bookmark in his book, set it aside, tossed the blanket off of him, and got up to go to bed. He stood up a bit, his ass hovering just over the chair. Instead of saying goodnight, he grabbed his ass cheeks, spread them, and pushed,

PPRRPRPRPRRRRRR

Yet another obnoxiously disgusting fart burst out of his ass. This time, he got to hear the chair’s coughing and gagging without being muffled. He didn’t turn to look. He turned off the light and left the room.

In bed, John had lotioned his cock and was masturbating to the memories of the day. He was kicking himself for not modifying the couch instead. If he’d modified the couch, then he could have the option to sleep with his ass over Ben’s face. Ribbons of cum draped his body. He wiped it off with a rag and fell asleep.

…

At 7am, John’s alarm went off. He yawned, stretched, refreshed for a new day. He got out of bed and threw on tight athletic underwear that helped him breathe down there, grey jogging shorts, and a tight purple running shirt. He put on black socks, and his running shoes.

Walking through the house, he passed the living room on the way to the kitchen. His chair was silent. He grabbed a water bottle out of the fridge, grabbed his iPod, and left his house.

Even though it was a cool morning, he sweat a lot during his run. He jogged three miles every morning. His stomach wasn’t feeling good. Still upset from the cheese the night before. But that was a problem for his chair to deal with.

It was closer to 8am when he got back to the house, his back, armpits, crotch, feet, and ass were all sweating. He finished his water and came into the house, where he took off his shoes, and, with a smirk, dropped his jogging shorts. His underwear had dark patches of sweat around his ass crack and crotch. He walked straight to the living room, ready to relax in his chair.

Briefly looking at the face in the hole, he noticed bags under his eyes. He thought about asking Ben if he slept well, but remembered that it would be weird for a guy to talk to a chair. Ben hadn’t slept well at all. He never was able to sleep on his back, and hours of the straps digging into his skin made him itchy, and the inability to move made him claustrophobic. He briefly slept for a few minutes at a time, dozing off then waking up again, unable to fall into a deep sleep.

John twisted around and sat on the chair. His tight underwear held in the moisture of his ass crack sweat up against the nose. John leaned forward, scrolling through social media on his phone. He slowly let out a thick and silent fart. It made his swamp ass heat up, and again he heard and felt retching under him. John’s cock tightened.

After a half an hour of aimlessly looking at sensationalized news, John got up and went to the kitchen to make breakfast. He scrambled some eggs and put them in an english muffin sandwich, each with a slice of ham and muenster cheese. He figured the combination of eggs and cheese would make a wonderful cocktail of gas for his chair to enjoy later.

He went to the living room and asked, “Hungry?”

“Yes sir,” the chair’s voice croaked, sounding depressed.

John went back to the kitchen. A few moments later, he came back with some buttered toast, a cup of greek yogurt, and a banana cut in slices. Feeding was the only time he treated Ben like a person. John looked down at him with a kind smile.

After giving him a glass of water to drink, the chair said, “…I’m sorry John but I feel so stiff. Can you let me out?”

John’s smile disappeared.

“Just five minutes and I’ll get right back in,” the voice was shrill, “Please, I gotta stretch man, this hurts,”

John didn’t say anything. He set the glass down, stood up, and left the room. Ben’s eyes frantically shifted, but he shouldn’t move his head to see anything beyond the ceiling. He heard John’s footsteps come back, and then, to Ben’s surprise, he felt the gurnee lower. He was going to let him out!

“Thank you so much sir,” he smiled, “I promise I won’t complain again for the rest of the weekend,”

John moved the chair out of the way. But instead of pulling the gurnee out of the wall, he stood over Ben and twisted his ear. Ben cried out in pain, his face scrunching up and his mouth wide open. Just what John wanted. John quickly shoved something into Ben’s mouth, and quickly wrapped a strap around the back of his head, keeping it secure around his mouth. Ben couldn’t see it, but he could feel it prying his lips open. He couldn’t close his mouth if he wanted to. He moaned out, frantic. What was going on?

John ignored his cries, and he brought the chair back over him. Then, he reset the gurnee to lift him back up to seat level. Just like before, except this time his mouth was being held open with a spider gag.

The chair continued to moan in fear as John went into the kitchen and pulled out a half pint of chocolate milk. He chugged half of it, then carried it into the living room. He stood over the chair so it could see clearly what he was holding. It’s eyes were wide with fear. It moaned out, unable to make words but the pattern was clear, “No, no, no, no,”

“I told you I would stop being nice if you didn’t keep silent,” John closed his eyes, setting the milk jug down. “Now, you must be punished.”

He turned around, peeled his underwear off his sweaty ass cheeks, pulled them apart, and sat down on the chair.

PRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

The chair screamed up John’s ass. John smirked. That had to taste bad. It would take another hour for the milk to do havoc on his system, so he would just have to wait until the real punishment started. John turned on the TV and relaxed.

…

At 11:30, John finally stood up. He looked down at Ben’s face, which was wet with tears, and his eyes were burning red. Despite how horrible the past three hours had been for him, he at least managed to swallow every single fart.

Without speaking, John lowered the gurnee, moved the chair, and then removed the spider gag. The chair didn’t speak. Just like a good chair should act. He then put everything back in place.

John hoped that Ben finally understood what ‘you have no rights” means, and "you belong to me for the next 48 hours”. He looked at the clock and did a quick calculation. 20 hours in, only 28 more to go.

He went into his bedroom and changed into jeans and a plain sweater. Grabbed his coat, wallet, and keys, then left the house. He drove to the grocery store. It was busy around lunch time. He picked up snacks for tonight’s game. Buffalo chicken wings with blue cheese dipping sauce. Nachos. Mozzarella sticks. John grimaced. The milk he drank earlier was making him feel bloated and queasy. As bad as he felt, at least he didn’t have to experience dozens of his lactose farts directly on his tongue. He shuddered at the thought. Even so, he felt reluctant to get all of these cheese products. He shrugged. He always took one for the team. If his friends were over, he’d treat them to all kinds of unhealthy cheese covered snacks. And again, it isn’t as if any of them would have to smell his farts. That was the chair’s job.

He bought a case of generic beer. Then, he decided for himself to grab a six pack of stouts. These heavy dark beers made his ass bloated at night. Since it’s day two, he should bring out the big guns and make full use of his fart-vacuuming chair.

When he got back home, it was a little after 1pm. While he was gone, Ben managed to doze off a bit, only from exhaustion. And boredom. The worst part of this weekend so far was the incredible boredom he felt.

John put everything away, and he left the wings in the oven on low heat. He came back with lunch for the chair. Just a ham sandwich. As he fed the chair, he said out loud, “My friends will be coming around four. I’ve been feeling so bloated and gassy today. Thankfully my new chair will take care of that. I’ll let them out silently, and it will silently vacuum up my farts so no one has to smell them.

The chair let out a whimper.

…

By the time his friends came, John had changed into sweatpants and a loose comfortable sweatshirt. Matt and Hugo gave him bro hugs, and they all walked toward the living room. From their view, the chair was plain as ever, a normal looking seat, unremarkable and not worth looking at twice. John had already set up the nachos. They all grabbed beers, John opted for his bottle of stout. He sat down in his chair and relaxed, taking a deep swig of the bottle. The three of them chatted about work, Hugo vented about his girlfriend, they watched the game and talked about stats, they munched on nachos, they made dirty jokes. John felt his stomach cramp a bit, and so he carefully let out a silent stream of gas. It felt very hot, and it warmed up his butt and the seat of the chair. The heat went away quickly at least. The chair was working. John smiled.

Later, he got up to bring in the wings. As he got up, he smoothed out the sides of the chair to fix any suspicious indentations. For a split second, the seat seemed to be in the shape of a human face. But neither of the friends noticed, because, well, why would anyone pay attention to a chair? In the kitchen, John pulled the wings out of the oven. His stomach still felt sick. The milk from earlier was still bothering him, plus the new addition of nacho cheese. The beer wasn’t helping, and if he dipped fried chicken wings into a cheese sauce…He closed his eyes. It would be very hard for him to hide his gas. But he had to be a good host.

The night went on, and the more drunk they got, the louder they got. They laughed, they cheered. John was so comfortable in his seat. He slowly let out what felt like the hundreth fart of the night. Again, he felt his ass warm up. And again, he felt the slightest nudge underneath him.

“Dude should you be eating all this cheese?” Hugo asked.

Matt laughed, “Oh yeah, doesn’t this shit give you like mad farts and stuff,”

“Hah, yeah,” John shrugged, “To be honest I’ve been farting into my chair ever since I sat down.”

They all started laughing. He went on, “Seriously, it isn’t even like a bunch of farts, for the past hour it’s been one long stream of gas. I’m still letting it out.”

Hugo was on the verge of tears.

“Don’t worry, my chair’s been absorbing it all,”

…

After the game ended, they sat in the living room, chatting some more. Finally, it was nearing 10pm, and they decided to head out. “You wanna come out to Nico’s with us?” Their favorite bar.

“Nah, I’m good. I’ve been exhausted I think I’ll just watch some TV then head to bed.” And he genuinely was feeling sick to his stomach.

He saw them out. Then he returned to the living room and stretched. He saw that he forgot to adjust the fabric the last time he got up, and so the indentation of a face was clear on the seat. John was surprised that none of them had noticed. His dick was getting hard. He walked over to the chair and took the fabric off. Ben took a gasp of air.

“Thirsty?”

“Yes sir,” he coughed.

He went to get a glass of water. He wanted to congratulate Ben on a job well done. Five hours worth of farts went completely unnoticed because of him. But it would be strange to thank a chair for doing something it’s supposed to do anyway. And it isn’t as if a chair would feel something like pride in being a fart absorber.

After giving Ben some water, John sat back down. His eyelids were heavy. He watched the TV some more. He realized he was falling asleep. He got up, went to the fridge, and pulled out the fourth bottle of the night. Not a whole lot, but enough to make his body feel heavy. He got an idea. He was trembling with excitement, but he couldn’t think about it too much or the plan wouldn’t work. He opened a drawer and took out a roll of duct tape. Back in the living room, he set the bottle on the table next to his chair. Then he pulled out a strip of duct tape, and used it to cover the mouth in the chair. Then, he turned around, and slowly lowered the back of his sweatpants. His hairy ass hung out of his pants, and he slowly sat down on the chair, adjusting so that his hole was over the nose as usual. He yawned. He drank the beer and watched the TV, lowering the volume. After another hour, without trying he fell asleep.

…

It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that Ben realized, with horror, what had happened. That John had fallen asleep with his disgusting unwashed asshole against his nose. Without being able to open his mouth, he had to breathe through his nose, which meant he had to take in his stink with each breath. The weight over him made it difficult to breath as it was.

When he first farted, Ben thought that John was awake. The fart made his eyes burn, and he gagged against the duct tape. Then he realized that John was completely asleep, and that he just farted in his sleep. They were soft, but thick and hot and swampy. The combination of lactose, beer, and deep fried foods, made the stink beyond atrocious. Another fart seeped out of John’s ass. Ben gripped the sides of the board, and wiggled his feet, and tried shifting his body around. There had to be some way to turn his head to the side so he didn’t have to suffer it. But everything had been planned out too well. There was no escape. The asshole was providing him his only air, and so it was the only thing keeping him alive through the night.

…

At 7am the next morning, the alarm in John’s room went off. He could hear it from the living room. He had a bit of a headache, and his mouth was dry. He saw the TV was still on, low volume. The morning news. He drifted in and out of sleep for a bit.

Almost half an hour later, he opened his eyes again. He felt sweaty. Uncomfortably sweaty. It was warm in this room, and the sweat clothes were really making him sweat. He knew his hairy ass was coated in sweat, and the face pressed up in his ass crack also felt uncomfortably hot. John smiled. He couldn’t imagine how horrible the night had to have been for his chair. He grunted and let out a beastly morning fart.

PPPPTPRPTRPTRPTRPTRPTPPSSSS

Yep. Definitely a beer fart. He felt shifting underneath him. Good, his chair survived the night. He stayed there for a bit so the chair could absorb the gas.

He stood up, peeling his cheeks off the face, and yanked the duct tape off. The chair cried out in pain, and then started gasping. John ignored the noise and walked to his room, his ass still hanging out, red marks from where it had been rubbing skin all night.

He took off his clothes, went into the bathroom, and took another shower. Again, he kept his ass out of the curtain. He thought it must have looked funny from an outsider perspective; a man taking a shower with his ass sticking out.

Usually he went for a run, but he wasn’t feeling good. His stomach was still a wreck from the night before. Only 7 more hours of fun. He didn’t put on a shirt, but he did put on a pair of basketball shorts.

He went back to the kitchen and made a bowl of oatmeal. He fed the chair without speaking to it. The chair didn’t say anything, it greedily ate the oatmeal off the spoon. Even though John knew it would make him feel worse, he poured himself a bowl of cereal with milk. He brought his cereal into the living room and ate it while watching the news from his chair. His stomach hurt in the next half hour.

SSSPPPPPPPRPRPRRPRPRPRR

The fart was painful, and sounded ugly. John cringed and held his stomach. He wanted to take one of his emergency gas pain relief pills, but that would probably stop his gas for the rest of the day. He only had 6.5 hours of fun left with his chair, and he wanted to make it happy. So he bore the pain, and pushed out the next fart.

PPRRTTRTRTRTRPTPRTPRTPRTPRTPRPTRPTPRTP

The chair was working overtime to suck in these farts. John was surprised he still felt and heard gagging underneath him. You’d think after so much time, the chair would get used to it by then.

A wicked thought came to John’s mind. He’d had it before when he first messaged Ben, but he didn’t take it seriously. But he thought, what if he just decided to keep his new chair, and ignore any previous arrangements. Of course the thought was just a fantasy, he couldn’t actually do that to Ben. But it made his balls tighten.

…

He didn’t do much the next couple hours. As usual, he watched TV, and unleashed his upset-stomach farts into the seat of the chair. He couldn’t imagined what they must have smelt like. And thanks to the chair, he would have no idea.

At lunch, he just had a sandwich. He fed the same type of sandwich to the chair, and gave it water. Then, he sat back down. He watched reruns. He yawned. It was pretty boring to just sit in a chair all day, but he wanted the chair’s last hours to be full of farts and ass stink.

The clock eventually struck 3:30pm. Only 30 more minutes. The chair had done a fantastic job today. Unlike yesterday with all of its shaking around and moaning and speaking, the chair was completely quiet, and barely moved. It didn’t matter how loud or long or rank the farts were, the chair silently took them in. Again, as John’s heart was pounding, he pulled his pants down and sat back on the chair with his bare ass. He felt the tongue wiggle up his hole immediately. He started to jerk off, his throbbing cock large in his hand. His balls felt swollen. He knew he was going to cum soon, so he had to make it count.

He tried imagining what it was like for his chair the past two days. How endless the assault of farts must have been for its nose. How uncomfortable its body had to be in the straps. How it had no way of knowing the passage of time, and could only see, feel, and smell the ass that was resting on it. How bad his ass stunk from the farts and from not washing. And how the chair licked his asshole without protest.

He felt a fart and ripped it onto the tongue and into its mouth.

PRRRR

The tongue recoiled for a moment, then kept going.

John came. His asshole clenched over the tongue that was rimming him.

He settled down, his heart beating, and feeling light headed, as the tongue kept probing his asshole. The clock read 4pm, but he spent a few minutes relaxing in the afterglow.

“Alright then,” John sighed in disappointment, “Time’s up.”

He stood up. Ben let out a sigh of relief. John lowered the gurnee, and moved the chair out of the way. Then, he pulled the gurnee halfway out. He undid the hoses and tubes around Ben’s privates. Then he pulled the gurnee out. Ben looked pale, limp, and miserable. Especially in his eyes, there was such misery and exhaustion. His cock was rock hard.

“I don’t normally do this to guys,” John said, “But you deserve a reward for being such a good chair,”

He dropped his pants, and straddled Ben, lowering his asshole over his face, smothering him. As he sat on Ben, he watched as his body buckled around. John grabbed Ben’s rock hard cock, bent over, and took it into his mouth.

Ben had been rock hard for so long, that he felt his dick was sensitive enough to go off at the slightest friction. At least, that’s what he thought would happen, if he had any physical stimulation while he was down there. It only took him a minute to erupt cum into John’s mouth. He moaned into John’s ass.

Then, John stood up and undid the straps. Slowly, Ben moved his joints around. When John got to the headboard and undid the strap and posts, Ben cracked his neck loudly. Like a sloth, he tried sitting up, his full body was fatigued. Red lines from where the straps were raced across his skin.

“Well…how was it?” John smiled.

“That was fucking horrible,” Ben muttered.

“Oh,” John frowned, “I’m sorry it wasn’t what you hoped it would be.”

“Fuck off, where’s your bathroom, I need to shower.”

…

John drove him to the train station that evening. In the car, just before Ben left, he said “Well, even though you didn’t like it, thanks for helping me live out this fantasy.”

“Whatever,” Ben’s voice was low. He got out of the car and headed for the train.

…

On the train ride, Ben looked depressed. He thought through everything he’d experienced. How badly John’s farts stink. How uncomfortable it was to be strapped down. How humiliating and disgusting it was to relieve himself in a hole in the wall. His full body was exhausted and stiff with pain from laying on the board for so long. And John didn’t even have the decency to let him stretch once. He remembered how boring it was to just lay there quietly, passively taking farts to the face, and then staring up at the ceiling when he was away. He had constant headaches from exhaustion and the pressure of John’s body. He felt underfed and cranky from the small bland meals John made for him. And worst of all, he was constantly nauseous when John farted into his nose. His throat hurt from so much coughing and gagging. And when the farts were very bad, he would jerk around and the straps dug more into his skin, making it burn.

He’d turned down going with his friends to a bar that weekend for this. He’d chosen to spend two days of his life like this. He felt so dirty and pathetic. And embarrassed. He had been so excited to try out bondage, and his fart fetish, only to hate both in the end.

That night, he was laying in bed, and he thought about John’s ass, how bad it stunk, how gross it felt sweating on his face, how the hairs clung to his nose and made it itch.

Despite how much he’d hated the experience, his cock was rock hard. And cocks usually don’t lie.

He called John.

“Hello?”

“Hey John, it’s me. Ben.”

“Oh…hey. What’s up?”

He took a deep breath, “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever done. I loved it so much.”

“Really? You sounded so mad after I let you out,”

“Yeah but…” Ben couldn’t explain, “I can’t stop thinking about your asshole.”

“Oh well I’m flattered, haha,”

“Are you doing anything this weekend?”

Ever since the anti-bullying laws were revoked the world of bullying has changed dramatically. Proponents of anti-bullying laws were afraid that this step backward would put queer youth at risk of increased physical and psychological harm, and it absolutely has! Fag bashings and anxiety for gay teens are through the roof. However, what the anti-bullying proponents didn’t expect was the evolution of bullying that has occured.

Historically, straight men would bully gays through traditional means such as physical harm, theft, and name calling which left the gays constantly attempting to avoid their bullies. Now, with the advent of the internet, straight men have been able to see into the world of gay culture and have developed new means by which to manipulate their victims. For starters, there is no more need for theft now that straight men have seen how common it is for gay men to have a findom fetish. It has become a common sight in schools today to see well-built alpha men demand so called ‘fag taxes’ from their queer classmates. In return, the alpha men are quite happy to slap the fag, spit in their faces, or even shove the fags face into their armpits while their classmates look on and laugh at the indignity of the situation. In this way two problems are solved, gays are now no longer able to claim the abuse they suffer is unwilling which helps to normalize their place in society, and also their bullies no longer have to seek out their victims now that the fags come to them for punishment willingly.

(Pictured here: Two seniors at a local school, the bully has just received $400 in fag tax from his classmate and in return he has graciously decided to humiliate the fag by smothering him underneath his ass in the middle of their gym class. Not pictured are the other students, faculty, and staff egging on the pair from the sidelines.)

Another strange evolution is the growing use of chastity devices by queer youth. It is now estimated that around 53% of gay men have had their genitals locked in chastity devices at some point in the past 3 month period. However, there is some conflicting evidence on whether or not this usage is willful or not. While many bullies have been quick to embrace the strategy of taking advantage of their victims libido some others have been disgusted by the thought of the fags they take money from later using that experience to jerk off to. Thus, some bullies have begun to demand that their victims wear chastity cages to ensure that the fags do not have any release during or after their bullying. Strangely, this has led to more fags who lock themselves up willingly and give the keys to their own bully unasked along with their fag taxes. Bullies have found that caged fags tend to work harder to please them and are more desperate to earn enough money so that they can pay additional fag tax for ‘special treatment’ from their bully.

(Pictured here: Two caged fag’s massage the feet of their bully. This was a reward for the fags having paid an extra $100 in fag taxes that week.)

***it’s finally here! Thanks for all the messages saying you like the story and hope ya’ll like this one, too***

Bruce shifted in his comfy office chair as he looked at his computer screen. He leaned over to his left side, straining and releasing a nice full fart, FRRRRRRRRRRRRRRT! Breathing a sigh of relief, he looked back at the screen and continued to work on his email to his subordinates. He heard a whimper below him, accompanied by dutiful deep sniffing and could only catch the faintest whiffs of rotten eggs. He smiled in contentment, releasing one of his famous silent but deadlies, the seat of his dress slacks growing hot and grunted, it was almost time for lunch and he’d had Danny pack him a pastrami sandwich with all the fixings on it, hard boiled eggs and a coke!

Bruce King read over the email one last time before hitting the send button. He scratched his big hairy balls, fuck he was horny - he was gonna have to fix that soon before his board meeting later, and pressed a small button beneath his desk. He felt spazming below him and chuckled again. He knew strong voltage was currently coursing through the faggot below him and enjoyed being the cause of it’s perpetual torment.

He released his grip on the button and heard the click of metal restraints coming unlocked in the wall compartment behind his big comfy office chair. The faggot’s face was replaced by a foam insert and he could hear it being ejected on the floor with a loud thud before seeing it scurry around the corner on hands and knees and feeling it slip between his legs to find it’s place between his tree trunk thighs under the desk.

He heard and felt his zipper come down and a soft, warm, velvety mouth encircle his full, semi hard cock, growling softly and minimizing his e-mail client on the computer. He opened up excel and started to toggle a few drop downs, pausing to sigh and then let loose with a stream of hot recycled black coffee into the hole sucking all of him into it’s gullet.

Newly relieved, he felt his cock harden quickly, hard as a steel rod now, and felt the undulations and gentle massaging of the talented throat, taking him all the way to the base and rocking back and forth slowly to bring him pleasure. Bruce worked through his report, studying the figures and prepping his speech notes, knowing he would ace the presentation and score another performance bonus. He was, to put it mildly, on top of the world. He could feel his big balls start to tense up and retract, he roughly grabbed the head (still out of sight and beneath the desk) and heard choking noises as he laughed softly and flooded the hole with his thick, salty alpha cum.

He scribbled on a post it note directions to fetch his lunch from the office fridge and shirts from the dry cleaners as well as the reservations he wanted made for dinner with his wife on Friday night and pressed the button again. The warm mouth nearly leapt from his dick, having cleaned it all free of semen and a choking sound of pain emitted from it for the briefest of moments. Without looking down, he shoved the note in the now vacant mouth and watched as the faggot extricated itself from underneath the desk and crawled over to its small office in the adjoining room behind a wall to get to work.

Two weeks ago now, Bruce had set Danny on a better path. The night he’d sat Matt down in his living room for a serious announcement, he’d farted one last time in the faggot’s face and then sent it “to bed” in the laundry room so the men could talk in private. He’d told Matt the unvarnished truth. His son had always been a softie, but allowing the faggot to live there and serve was a step too far, it was lazy, a nuisance and contributed nothing to his son and would be his ruination if he wasn’t careful.

Matt had laid out the training tools he used with the faggot and a plan had formed in Bruce’s head. He’d bring on the homo as his new assistant at work, where he could be under heel, literally. He setup direct deposit to auto transfer to Matt’s account directly to give him financial dominance of the faggot and allow him to improve the place without being such a burden. He threw away the fag’s old clothing that very night and set him a stipend to purchase only pastel shirts and ties for work to advertise his status, even at work. Matt picked out two t-shirts for him online with bold lettering “cum slut” said one, and “sissy boy” the other screamed in big block letters. These, along with 5” inseam short shorts would be for when he sent him out of house on errands. Danny went through more training the next morning. After feeding Mr. King a full breakfast, and giving him a relaxing rim job in the guest room to say goodbye, he was locked in a hall closet with the special tablet Matt liked to use on him and headphones inserted with his hands cuffed behind his back.

Feeling uncomfortable in the small space and having the smell of Mr. King’s asshole on his tongue, Danny listened raptly at his new directions in life. He was primarily a chair now. He hadn’t known until recently, until the King family found and rescued him. He would crave their farts stronger than ever, the smellier and louder the more relief they brought him and now knew in his heart of hearts, he lived only to serve them. The new human seat craved the weight of its master’s on its face, the sweat of their balls and the taste of their superior holes on it’s tongue. When no one else was present, he had a mind only for service. For the briefest of moments a thought flashed through it, what if he hadn’t complained to Matt all that time ago, what if he’d been more understanding, kinder, would he still be here? He shook his head and thanked his new gods that wasn’t the case. Thanks to the King family, he was right where he was supposed to be.

Bruce shook his head in the present and thought back on the office renovation. The advanced chair set up that allowed full immersion for the fag and the expensive training collar he’d gifted it to help in it’s obedience and reinforcement in its new role. As he settled in to eat his newly delivered lunch, he felt a now familiar sensation as the foam pad retracted beneath him and a nose inserted into his dress slack covered crack. He raised a little and loosened his belt and button, allowing the pants to fall to the floor. The executive made sure to settle in and bounce a little despite what he thought might be a muffled cry of pain and as he took a delicious bite of his Reuben sandwich he released a butt bomb fit for a King BRRRAaAaAP! The chair could only sniff in compliance and devotion, it’s tongue beginning to lick happily at the sweaty, hairy, dirty shit hole above it, currently providing it a gift from a god.

A story request based off of someone’s Uncle who would always get the worst gas from eating White Castle.

My uncle is a dick. Growing up he always took pride in harassing me. I remember at any family gathering he would always find a way to burp in my face or give me a wedgie. I always hated having to see him but he’s my dad’s older brother so my dad loved having him around. Things only got worse though when my dad decided to let my uncle move in with us. Living with just my dad life had been easy but once my uncle moved in my life became hell. I was now my uncles personal bitch to torture twenty-four seven. My uncle moved in with us towards the middle of July and because of the scalding heat and all of the boxes we had to move in the three of us ended up drenched in sweat. After we were finished moving everything in my dad announced that he was going to take a shower leaving my uncle and I alone. I started walking towards the back of the house to go to my room but my uncle called me back “Hey kid! Ya mind helping me out with one more thing?” I sighed reluctantly and walked back to the living room to see him smiling wide with his hands on his hips. He was wearing a sleeveless shirt and I could see the sweat dripping down his muscular arms. I remember smelling him all the way across the room and just wanting to get out of there as quickly as possible. “Yea sure what can I do?” I said trying my best to sound like I cared. Right after I finished speaking he strode towards me while saying “you can take a big wiff of this!” Once he reached me he lifted his sweaty arm behind his head revealing his nasty sweat soaked armpit. I started to gag and pull my head back but before I had the chance he used his other arm to shove my face right into his wet pit. My face squished into his hairy trench as the smell overwhelmed me. I tried to pull away and push out but he was far too strong for me. He began laughing as he rubbed my face all around his sweaty hairy armpit. “YEAAA BOI you like that!!?” He yelled down at me. The stink he had produced from his armpit was inhumane. I was desperately trying to get free but still to no avail. Finally he stopped rubbing me around his pit and I thought that meant he was going to let me free but I was far from right. “Okay nephew. How about you take a deep sniff of my stink!?” I yelled into his armpit for him to let me free but my words were only muffled because of how closely pressed I was into his armpit. “I said inhale bitch boy!” My uncle said this time with much more command in his voice. My eyes began to water. I’m still not sure if it was from fear or disgust. I was at his complete mercy. Finally I mustered all of the strength I had left in me and I took a sniff of my uncle’s nasty armpit…willingly. “No no nooo. That doesn’t count. Deeper.” He said evilly. I couldn’t believe this was happening. Once again I took a breath in through my nose sucking up his stink only for him to say “Deeper” At this point my eyes were flooded with tears but of course my uncle would never be able to tell because his armpit was already soaked with sweat. I continued inhaling my uncle’s armpit for what felt like hours heading his command every single time he told me to inhale deeper and deeper. He hadn’t even been living with us for twenty four hours and this is what he was doing to me I couldn’t take it, but yet he continued. “Deeper” SNIFFFFFFFFFFF

His B.O was now living inside me

“Deeper” SNIFFFFFFFFFFF

He laughed at me as I audibly gaged at his stench

“Deeper” SNIFFFFFFFFFFF

There was no way he could’ve ever worn deodorant. No ones armpit smells this horrible

“Deeper” SNIFFFFFFFFFFF

Finally I felt his grip on the back of my head release and I fell to the ground. My face slathered with sweat just looked up at him while he laughed down at me.

“Thanks so much for your help nephew. So excited to get to be living with you.” My uncle said as he stepped over me and left the living room.

My uncle has now been living with us for two years and the amount of suffering I have been put through by him is insane. He still gives me wedgies and burps on me whenever he feels like it but he’s upped his game in all of the time we spend together. I don’t think I’ve gone at least one week without my face plastered inside one of his nasty armpits. Oh and I was right he doesn’t wear deodorant. He says that he wouldn’t want it to get in the way of our bonding.

I’ve even tried to tell my dad about what he does to me but my dad just laughs it off and says that’s how my uncle messes around with people. That they would do that kind of shit to each other all the time as kids. I couldn’t believe that my own father was completely okay with my uncle using me as a towel to wipe his stink on.

Now I haven’t even gotten to the worst part yet. See besides the armpits and burps and wedgies my uncle loves to fart on me. His gas is usually horrible but thankfully he doesn’t fart too much. Only like once a day he’ll come up behind me and fart in my direction but rarely do I have to deal with them head on. That is unless he had White Castle. Something about this particular burger joint destroys my uncles intestines and thus destroys my life. He is well aware of the disgusting nasty burning wet farts that the food gives him but he eats it anyway just so he can torture me. The first time I ever had to deal with his White Castle farts was a Saturday night when my dad was out of town in business. My uncle had promised to take care of dinner for us but I had no clue what I was in store for.

Around six he returned to our house with a giant bag from White Castle containing six boxes with ten burgers each. He got sixty burgers which I thought would be too many for just the two of us but little did I know that I none of them were for me.

“You ever been around me after I had White Castle kid?” He asked me with a smirk on his face clearly already knowing the answer to his own question.

“No..why?” I asked cautiously

He laughed and then said “I’ll explain in a minute but let’s get more comfortable first.”

Without even giving me a second to react my uncle grabbed and threw me over his shoulder. I began yelling and screaming but it was no use. No one was going to hear me. He brought me to his bedroom and threw me down on his bed. I hit the bed hard and before I even had the chance to attempt to get up his was straddling my stomach leaning over my as he tied my left wrist to his bed frame. “What are you doing stop!!” I screamed up at him but he paid no mind to me just laughing sadistically as he tied my right wrist and then moved on to my feet. Once I was restrained tightly he got off me and looked down at his work. “One more thing and then you’ll be perfect.” He stated declaratively My uncle then walked over to his dirty hamper which I had become quite familiar with during his time living with us. He loved to grab me by the hair and just force my face into his dirty clothes. Often times I’d end up face first into one of his skid mark stained boxers. My uncle carefully plucked a dirty sock from his hamper turned to me smiling wide and then said “This is going in your mouth.”

I immediately started wailing in fear but then realized I needed to keep my mouth shut so he couldn’t get the sock in it.

“OHHH you wanna make this difficult?” He said once he realized what I was doing. Without even missing a beat my uncle plugged my nose preventing me from being able to breath at all.

“I got all night bitch boy. No matter what. My sweaty dirty sock is going in your mouth.”

I tried as hard as I could to get free of my restraints. This can’t happen. I can’t let this happen. I’m running out of air. Then it happened. I took the biggest gulp of air through my mouth and right away my uncle shoved his dirty sock in my mouth following that by taping my mouth shut .

He then walked out of the room laughing as I slowly soaked the sock in my saliva. Tasting every ounce of his sweat and stink on my tongue. My uncle then returned with the White Castle bag and as he pulled up a chair next to his bed said “taste good kid? I’m sure you love it. I’m about to have something that tastes good too, but you probably wouldn’t like these burgers as much as you love my dirty sock.”

Then began the most nerve racking hour of my life. My uncle sat next to me in that chair eating all sixty burgers as he explained to me how horrible his White Castle farts are.

“OHHH ho hoo kid you’re really in for it. These farts are wet and they burn my asshole. I can’t even imagine what they’re going to do to that poor little nose of yours.”

All I could do was watch him eat and listen to him talk about my unstoppable fate. His farts were coming and they were going to be unleashed all over my face.

Once he had finished all sixty burgers my torture began. “Time to get sniffing boy!” He said with a smile on his face as he got up on to the bed with both of his legs on either side of my head. I didn’t think things could get much worse at this point but then my uncle pulled down his jeans and his shit stained boxers leaving me with no choice but to stare up at his hairy big ass. I struggled even harder at this point but I think deep down I already knew that his hairy bubble butt was about to consume my face.

My uncle began to lower himself down on my face. His hairy cheeks spread giving me the perfect view of his unclean ass crack, and then he sat. He was straddling my face bare assed. I tried to hold my breath for as long as I could but I was already so weak at that point that in only fifteen seconds I was already inhaling his shitty butt. The smell was horrid. I was gagging immediately but I knew things were only about to get worse.

“OHHH boy I feel em comin. These are going to be real bad for you bitch boy HAHAH” he laughed at me as I suffered and then he released.

PHRSSTTTSSSSSSSSSGRLLLLGGRRRPHHRRPP

The fart was godly. It made my face vibrate and the immediately singed my nostrils. The smell was worse than anything I had ever encountered in my life time. My uncle’s White Castle farts were worse than every other form of stink torture he had put me through and he knew it.

PHRRRT SSHRPHHRLLRP. SHTRTTRTRT

“HUFF THOSE FARTS” he yelled down to me joyously as he began to lightly bounce his bare ass up and down on my face. I tried my best to breath at the least gross times but who was I kidding. I was laying down with my uncle’s dirty fart exploding butt spread across my face. There was no least gross time to breath. I eventually passed out from the stink only to wake hours later untied but with all of his dirty laundry poured on top of me and his dirty sock still tapped in my mouth.

When my renter first moved in, he somehow convinced me that he should get the master bedroom.  Something about those sparkly eyes, cocky grin, easygoing happy confidence…  He ended up getting a lot of action so it made more sense anyhow.

When he convinced me that the other bedroom should be his workout room & I should sleep in the basement it made sense too.  He’d enjoy working out more in a sunny room & having it right next to the bathroom made it easier for him to shower afterward. It was cooler in the basement, darker, quieter.  I’d sleep better, he said.  Although being right under “his” bedroom & listening to the mattress creak under him & his latest conquest didn’t always contribute to me sleeping well, I definitely didn’t mind.

When he started scheduling out the times that I could be upstairs it seemed weird.  But he always had good reasons.  He had friends over a lot, he liked his privacy when he worked out or watched TV, he wanted to meditate…  He started emailing me scheduled times that I could be upstairs. 

After a month or so, the times came with scheduled activities next to them: prepare meals listed on fridge, scrub bathroom, clean living room…  It was true that his doing any cleaning hadn’t been part of our agreement, but since I almost never used the upstairs anymore it ended up being me just cleaning up after him & his friends.  He was often away or busy during my scheduled times upstairs so it was hard to nail him down to discuss it.

When I finally did talk to him about it, he laughed in his easy, jokey way.  He had good explanations for how busy he was lately.  He rubbed his massive shoulders & bulging pecs as he looked me deep in the eye & asked if things were okay.  He grinned at me sweetly & said, “You’re doing a great job, bitch.  I really appreciate it.”  I was taken aback by the “bitch” part but it was said so casually, just a joke about me doing all the work.  It seemed funny to him, and for some reason to me too.  After that, I was often “bitch”, “faggot”, or “slave boy”, said in the endearing way he’d address a loyal bird dog.  As he stepped over me wiping something up off the floor, I’d hear, “Good job, slave boy, this place is looking great.”  When he called down for me to come help him hang a picture he was putting up in place of something I’d had up, he’d call out, “Hey, faggot, come lend a hand.”  It was so casual & natural that it seemed weird for some reason to complain about it.

Then his dirty laundry started appearing at the bottom of the stairs, clearly just tossed from the top of the stairs.  Doing it at the same time as mine wasn’t a big deal.  “Deliver laundry clean & folded” appeared next to one of my scheduled times upstairs.

I came home from work one day I found my living space in the basement full of boxes of his extra stuff.  He turned around.  “Hey, don’t touch any of this stuff, okay faggot?  I’m gonna go through it soon & I know just where everything is.”  He bounded upstairs before I could argue but his stuff sat there for weeks, making it impossible for me to have people over.

When I finally got sick of it & confronted him, he listened thoughtfully, smiling & nodding.  “You’re right, slave boy, I’ve been taking you for granted.  You’ve been doing a lot of things for me that I really want & it’s about time I do the same for you.”  I hadn’t been expecting that. 

I really hadn’t been expecting him to stand up & pull down his shorts, letting his perfect, fat dick bounce out, swaying back & forth half hard, drooling a line of precum.  I sat there dumbfounded.  He smiled down at me sweetly & winked.  “Go ahead, it’s okay.”  My mind went blank as I leaned forward & opened wide.

When he was getting close, he lightly took a handful of hair & pulled my head back.  “Okay, that’s good.”  I looked from his face to his bulging hardon desperately- “But…” 

“I’m saving that for my date tonight,” he smirked.  I’m ashamed to admit that I begged.  My brain was off, all I could think about was his taste, his scent, how he’d feel & look as he came, something I’d heard in the room above me so many times but never experienced in person.

He rolled his eyes playfully & gave a little pout.  “Well… I am a little short on cash for tonight’s date.  How about you get this load instead of next month’s rent?”  I didn’t even take the time to do the math before nodding yes.  When he pushed back in, I was no longer in control.  He held my hair tight & fucked my face with hungry, hard strokes, oblivious to my choking.  When he came, my eyes were so clouded with tears I couldn’t see him but the feel of his thick dick pulsing, the smell, the taste, the sounds of his deep, guttural, satisfied grunt will be with me forever.

As I heard the same sounds coming from above me later that night, his happy, contented groan rising over the sounds of the creaking mattress upstairs, I jacked myself off to one of the best orgasms of my life.

which are you, faggot…?

fake fags – tell an Alpha what they (the fag) wants… they say things to an Alpha like “i want you to fuck me” and “i love to be dominated” and “i need to be used”

true fags – ask the Alpha what the Alpha wants… they say “Sir, this fag is here for whatever you want…”… they know that it isn’t about what they (the fag) want but rather only what the Alpha wants

fake fags – think being a faggot is only about sex, being fucked, sucking, being used

true fags – know that being a faggot is a way of life, 24/7, all day, every day, and they find every way to serve Men, not only sexually but in every possible way

fake fags – think they are in charge, are brats, create drama

true fags – are submissive, know the Alpha is in charge, and make every effort to make the lives of Alphas better

fake fags – have orgasms, and use their fagdicks for pleasure

true fags – never use their fagdicks for pleasure, but instead focus on the pleasure of Real Men

fake fags – expect an Alpha to be available to them when they (the fag) want

true fags – make themselves available to Alphas whenever an Alpha wants

fake fags – use urinals and piss standing up

true fags – know they are urinals, and piss sitting down

fake fags – tell an Alpha their limits (”i don’t do piss” “i don’t do rough” “i’m not a cashfag” “i don’t do anal” etc.)

true fags – have no limits, do whatever the Alpha wants, are happy to let the Alpha take whatever the Alpha wants

fake fags – think Alphas are their equals, and/or their friends

true fags – know they are inferior, and know that Alphas only tolerate them to get their needs met

fake fags – are selfish, and think only of themselves and their own needs

true fags – are completely focused on the needs and wants of Alphas

fake fags – only act like a fag when it is convenient for them

true fags – are faggots every minute of every day, know they were born as a fag, and spend each day being useful to Men, and trying to be a better fag in every way

About an hour later, he looked over and said, “alright bud, my ass is ready to burst.” You cringed and laid down on the couch. You looked up, horrified, as Tony’s now bare ass hung above your head, covered in hair. He slammed his ass down and you felt his asshole push out. A hot burst of air hit your nose and the smell made you nearly throw up. Tony laughed, making his beach ball sized cheeks shake. You weren’t getting free until right before your sister - his wife got home from her night out...