Date: Sat, 7 Sep 2013 19:05:44 -0700 (PDT)
From: TJ King <phonebook715@yahoo.com>
Subject: Fraternity Couch, Part 4

FRATERNITY COUCH, PART IV

This is a gay erotic story involving two adults.  This chapter includes
forced bondage, foot play, and raunch.  If you are underage, do not read
this!

*****

I could see Nick weighing the pros and cons of the situation. After about
thirty seconds of silent contemplation, his face lit up and he looked over
at Brandon. "Well, I'm not sure about the fart thing. I don't wanna crush
him and hurt him or anything. But it could be fun to make him smell my
sweaty socks and rank feet and see if he can handle it. I had a long day at
work today and I know they are always pretty foul when I get off. Probably
almost as bad as your farts, I bet."

"That's the spirit, bro. Why don't you put your feet up and take a load
off?"

It was at this moment that I knew I wasn't going to be getting out of this
couch and away from this torture any time soon.

I could see out of the corner of my eye as Nick bent down and began untying
his work shoes. I have to admit, Nick was the kind of guy that I thought
was hot. He was quite a bit taller than Brandon, probably about 6'4" with
buzzed hair and looked like he had a big, solid build. Brandon was more
lean, toned muscle, whereas Nick just looked like he had a naturally huge
build. I have a thing for bigger guys, so even though they both looked
different, I thought they were both physically very attractive.

The attractiveness definitely went down once his first shoe came off, and I
was already able to smell his feet even though they were down on the
floor. Brandon, who was standing a few feet away, apparently was able to
smell them too.

"Fuck dude, what is wrong with your feet?"

Nick laughed and replied, "Sorry man, I told you they get pretty rank. I
guess it's kind of my fault - I only own two pairs of black socks, so I end
up wearing them a few times before I wash them. Usually I take `em off and
jump in the shower when I get home, so it doesn't bug me much."

Brandon was walking away from the smell, which was beginning to fill the
entire room as Nick took off his other shoe. "How long have you been
wearing those fuckers? That smells inhuman!"

"Umm, well tomorrow is my laundry day, so I guess probably about six days
or so? I don't really keep track. I kinda just grab whatever is on the
floor by my shoes."

Brandon was clearly not enjoying this powerful odor. "I'm gonna go grab a
beer and chill in the kitchen, I don't want to smell this shit," he said as
he left the room while using his hand to cover his nose.

Nick looked down at me with a somewhat sympathetic look on his face. "Dude,
are you sure this is gonna be okay? I mean, we can all smell my feet and
they are down on the floor. If you feel like you're gonna get sick or
something, just tell me, okay?"

He obviously wasn't thinking about the fact that my mouth was taped shut,
so even if I wanted to say something, I couldn't. Nick is hot, but clearly
not the brightest bulb in the box. I watched as he moved back toward the
arm of the couch and brought both of his feet up on the couch.

"Here you go dude! Who knows, maybe if you really are a fag like Brandon
says, you'll get off on stuff like this."

I watched helplessly as Nick's socked feet came down and covered my entire
face. I could instantly feel the dampness of his socks as my vision was
blacked out by his massive feet. I couldn't see anything, but I could feel
his feet completely covering me. They must have been a size 13 at least.

"Aah, that feels much better! My dogs have been killing me all day! It
feels great to put my feet up."

I tried my best to hold my breath for a while, but of course, I inevitably
ended up having to take in a big sniff of Nick's sweaty socks. I thought
they were bad when they were down on the floor, but taking a huge whiff of
his unwashed work socks right up close was ungodly. After the first inhale,
my eyes already started to water and I started yelling into my tape so that
Nick would hear that I couldn't handle it. This might actually be worse
than Brandon's farts!

Nick must have heard me screaming into the gag. "Dude, you're already
wanting out? It hasn't even been a minute. Sorry man, I thought I wouldn't
want to keep you down there if you hated it, but this is relaxing and feels
so good. I'm gonna use your nose to massage my feet!"

With that, Nick started pushing down against my face, pressing hard against
my nose to ease his sore foot muscles. My nose was being smushed with his
massive feet as he slowly moved them back and forth across my face. Every
time I took a breath in, I was fully assaulted with his nasty foot odor. It
smelled like some kind of nasty cheese; clearly, when he told Brandon he
didn't wash his socks, he wasn't lying. It really smelled like he didn't
wash his feet much, either. Typical straight man.

I heard Brandon come back in the room, and he laughed seeing what Nick was
doing to me. "Nick, I see you've found a new use for the fag's face! How's
his face working as a massager?"

Nick replied, "It's alright man, but I think a little more pressure would
help things out."

Brandon came over to the couch and quickly sat down on top of Nick's feet,
and as a result, my face. Now I was totally smashed underneath Brandon's
ass and Nick's feet with absolutely no room to move. Thankfully, Brandon
was clothed again so it was just his gym shorts I saw above the feet, not
his bare ass. "Okay man, now you should have the pressure you need. Now
slide your feet back and forth."

Nick began to move his feet under Brandon's weight and his plan was working
– his feet were now being pressed really hard against my nose, and I
heard Nick moaning with pleasure. This extra pressure must have helped make
it so my nose was pressing right into the sore spots, helping ease his
pain. It was almost impossible for me to breathe underneath all that weight
and through Nick's big feet, so it was a struggle for me to get any air at
all. I did manage to get in a short breath every 30 seconds or so, which
was of course nothing but tainted air that reeked of Nick's nasty socks and
feet.

"Dude, spread your feet apart!" Brandon said. Nick complied and spread his
feet apart toward my forehead and chin, making it so Brandon's ass slipped
through the middle against my nose. I felt him tense up, and then a silent,
warm, long burst of air came out of his ass and blew against my face. It
must have lasted about 10 seconds straight. I was instantly assaulted with
the overwhelming smell of rotten eggs. This definitely made it clear the
beer and deviled eggs were hitting his system.

The fart must not have been audible from a distance, because I heard Nick
ask Brandon what he was doing. Brandon didn't reply, but rather just sat
there until the smell wandered over to Nick. I felt Nick's feet lift off my
face as Brandon started laughing hysterically. Nick quickly got up off the
couch and moved across the room.

"Brandon, what the fuck? That shit is disgusting! You have to warn me when
you're doing that! I don't want to smell your dirty ass! I'm not into your
stink like that fag is!"

Brandon continued to laugh as he stayed sitting on my face, making me smell
his nasty egg fart right at the source. "Hey, I had to smell your rank feet
when you took off your shoes! Fair is fair!"

Brandon slowly got up as the smell dissipated and then turned around to
face me. I saw him looking down at me, probably seeing the look of fear in
my eyes. At this point, I didn't know what kind of disgusting things these
two would come up with, but clearly they were enjoying being creative and
coming up with new ways to make me suffer as the night went on.

Brandon's eyes lit up and he looked over at Nick. "So you said tomorrow is
laundry night? You know, the fag here has been really useful – fart
sniffer, piss drinker, foot massager – you think he'd make a good
washing machine too?"

Not surprisingly, Nick didn't follow. "What do you mean?"

"He's got a mouth there that isn't being used right now. Why don't we make
him suck your socks clean so you don't have to wash them? I'm sure the fag
won't mind. He'll probably even like tasting the sweat from a real man's
foot anyway. Then you can keep using his nose to rub your feet like you
like."

Nick started laughing. "Dude, you come up with some nasty shit. This is
pretty fun though. Let's do it!"

Brandon grabbed the scissors he used earlier to cut the tape open when he
pissed and cut open the tape again.

I tried to talk to Brandon, but could barely get anything out of my mouth
since I hadn't talked in hours. "Bran..don.. I.. I'm sorry.. I.."

My sentence was abruptly cut short when Brandon hit me hard in the
face. This one was harder than the last hit; I am sure that it was going to
leave a mark. He looked straight into my eyes and I could see the hate and
anger in them. "You fucking faggot, what did I tell you earlier? You do not
talk to me or I'm going to beat the fucking shit out of you. Me cutting the
tape off doesn't mean that you get to talk. That means I get to use your
mouth. You'd better learn your fucking place, or else I swear to God, I'm
going to leave you in this fucking couch for the rest of your pathetic
life."

At this point, I was crying not only from the pain of Brandon's punch to my
face, but also from being talked down to by Brandon. And to think that he
acted to nice to me in English class. I never knew that anyone could be
this truly mean toward another person and get so much pleasure from it.

Nick came over to the couch and stood on one foot while he peeled off one
of his socks. He stuck it up to his face to take a sniff, and pulled it
away immediately. "Holy shit, this is terrible. I really need to buy some
more black socks. Oh well, guess it's gonna get cleaned anyway."

Brandon stared into my eyes and commanded me to open my mouth. "Faggot,
open that mouth as wide as you can or I'm going to punch you and break all
of your fucking teeth out! And don't think I won't do it."

I've become terrified of Brandon and his random physical outlashes, so I
know now it's best to just listen to him and not argue. I opened my mouth
as wide as I could, then closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable to
happen. I felt the damp fabric of Nick's sock touch my tongue, then felt as
the entire sock was forcefully shoved into my mouth. I then heard the roll
of duck tape being stretched and torn, then felt tape placed over my
mouth. Brandon then said, "This is so you won't even think about spitting
it out until we've decided it's clean."

The taste of this sock was unreal. It was probably the nastiest thing I've
ever had in my mouth. It was disgusting when I felt my tongue touching the
sweaty socks that Nick had been wearing to work all week, knowing that my
saliva was helping break up all the dried funk and foot crud that was on
them. Just when I thought things couldn't get worse, I felt Nick sit back
down on the couch and put his feet back up.

"That foot massage from earlier felt nice man. I think I'm gonna go ahead
and let him use his nose to massage my foot now that the sock won't get in
the way."

With that said, Nick put his now bare foot across my face and started
rubbing it back and forth across my nose. He stopped after a few seconds
and spread the webbing between his big toe and second toe across my
nose. "Alright washer, take a big sniff now. I want you to smell the gunk
between my toes. I think that's what's making everything smell so bad."

Knowing Brandon was likely watching and I didn't want to get hit again, I
listened and took a big whiff. Nick was right – the webbing between his
toes had a really strong cheesy smell like his socks, only magnified. This
was certainly the source of the odor, and also the taste I had going on in
my mouth right now as I sucked on his rank work socks. Does this guy not
use soap on his feet?

This went on for a good 20 minutes or so – me sucking on his socks, Nick
using my nose to massage his feet, and him commanding me to sniff whenever
he spread his toe webbing across my nose. Eventually, the sock in my mouth
started to dry things out, and I wasn't really able to taste his sock so
much anymore. I was having trouble producing spit with the big sock filling
up my entire mouth and absorbing all of my saliva. Once the 20 minutes were
up, I saw Brandon come back into my vision.

"Looks like the fag has learned not to complain about things – I haven't
heard a peep from him in a while. Let's let him clean up that other sock
for you."

Brandon quickly cut off the tape, removed the rank and now "clean" sock,
stuffed Nick's other sock back in my dried out mouth, then taped it shut. I
had about another 20 minutes of massaging Nick's other dirty foot with my
nose, smelling between his toes, and hearing him moaning with pleasure.

Once the time passed, Brandon came and removed the tape and the sock from
my mouth. He must have noticed that it was considerably drier than the
first one, mostly because I wasn't producing as much saliva as I did when
the first sock was filling my mouth. He looked down angrily at me. "Hey!
Why is this sock not clean? What kind of washer are you? We treat a faggot
like you to a dirty sock from a real man like Nick, and you don't even have
the courtesy to clean it for him? Fucking worthless."

Brandon spit in my face and shook his head. I was about to tell Brandon
that my mouth was dry, but I remembered what happened last time I tried to
talk. I opened my mouth and looked at him, hoping he would figure out what
I was trying to say. He looked down at me, saw my open mouth, and must have
sorted it out.

"Ah, Nick, I think the washer is dried up! Maybe we need to give him
something to drink so it can work again."

I heard Brandon go off into the kitchen and run the sink. Finally, he was
feeling a little bit of mercy and was going to give me some water, even if
the whole goal was just to make it so that I could clean Nick's sock for
him.

"Here we go, a nice, tall glass of water!" Brandon said as he came back
into the living room with a glass of water. He stood over my face with it,
looked at Nick, and said, "Hmm, it looks a little plain for our fag,
doesn't it?"

Nick replied, "Yeah, it just looks like regular water. I bet he'd like
something a little more... refreshing."

With that, Brandon grabbed Nick's sock that was dry from my mouth and
promptly pushed it fully into the glass of water. I realized at this point
that this was most definitely turning into another new torture – this
was certainly not going to be an act of mercy. I watched as the water
started to become less and less clear. It must have been all the sweat and
toe funk that collected in the sock being washed out. Brandon worked Nick's
sock out of the water, wrung it out into the glass, and then laughed at the
now highly discolored water. There were visible pieces of fuzz floating in
it, and it had a yellowish tint. I heard Brandon hawk up some gunk from his
throat and spit it into the glass. I could see Brandon's smile as he moved
the glass down near my mouth.

"A special drink for a special little guy! Open up!"

Hesitantly, I opened my mouth and watched as he poured the disgusting
concoction in. He poured it in fast enough where I couldn't really taste it
and just had to swallow it down, but I felt some of the sock fuzz and lint
hit my tongue as it entered my mouth, and felt the thickness of his loogie
when it touched my tongue. The texture was slimy and disgusting.

Nick spoke up. "Man, that's so nasty! I know how bad those socks smelled,
and he's basically drinking the stink down. It's gross, but kinda hot
making him do it since he doesn't have a choice."

Brandon tipped the glass the rest of the way until it had all gone down my
throat. "All done! Dude, he still looks parched, doesn't he? Let me go grab
some stuff from upstairs."

He left the room as I sat there with Nick looking down at me. He didn't say
anything, but I could tell that his demeanor was changing. At first he
seemed like he was afraid of doing anything degrading or mean to me, but
now he had this look of pleasure on his face. A small smirk formed across
his mouth before he hawked up some phlegm from his throat like Brandon did
with the sock water. I looked up at him as he let a long string of spit and
snot slowly drip from his mouth onto my poor, trapped face. As I felt the
loogie side down my nose and coat my cheek with a trail of his spit and
snot, I knew Brandon had converted him over and that neither of them would
be showing me any mercy.

Brandon showed back up in the living room, and I saw him carrying a funnel,
the roll of duck tape, and a pair of really dirty white ankle socks (well,
they used to be white, at least). What kind of nasty idea did he have up
his sleeve?

[Hopefully everyone liked this new chapter, even though it's almost two
years later! I got motivation from a hot guy I met from California who
encouraged me to write more. Let me know if you have comments about this
chapter or more suggestions! phonebook715@yahoo.com]