Chapter 84 - The Game
"Dude! How many socks did you bring!?" Brad cried out, bursting into laughter as he sat there, amazed at the size of the twenty-year-old jock's collection.
"Nick told me to bring my hamper." Shawn answered, blaming his cousin for the number of socks he'd brought along.
"Don't you have a fuckin' washing machine at your place?" our host laughed, apparently as shocked as I was about the number of raunchy socks coming out of Shawn's big bag.
"Yeah, there's a washer in the building, but I hate paying for that stuff. So I usually just go to Nick's place and get my washing done twice a month." he explained.
"I guess you just forgot bring your socks when you came over to wash your stuff last month." Nick chuckled, causing his younger cousin to smirk a bit.
"Haha. Yeah. I guess." Shawn laughed, smirking as he picked out four of the Lacoste socks he'd brought and quickly tossing them onto the coffee table.
"Man, those socks need some
serious washing." Brad spoke, eyeing the young man's socks almost wearily.
The blond hunk was unable to hide his growing smirk as the sight and smell of his foul-smelling socks managed to take myself and the older jocks by surprise. Brad and I both shared an expression that betrayed disgust, but that didn't stop the handsome young muscle-man from enjoying his moment.
I looked at the four socks, then remembered the rules of the game.
One round, one sock.
There were four socks on the table, and Shawn had won four rounds.
Then it was Brad's turn to present us with his own socks.
The cocky stud opened up the crinkly plastic bag he had in his hand, and took out four of these really big, black crew socks.
They weren't just your average smelly socks though.
On the contrary. Brad's socks looked positively ripe and filthy!
From the way they appeared to stand on their own, I could tell they were crusty as fuck...almost as though the sexy jock had shot a few loads inside each sock and allowed them to dry up afterwards.
As gross as that was, I couldn't put it past him.
Creaming his own sock and then using it as a gag
definitely sounded like something Brad would do.
"Fuck. Those look BAD." Nick commented, chuckling mildly as he took in the sight of his buddy's black crew socks.
The frightened whimper that came out of captive-mummy boy's taped mouth, immediately told me that Jeremy probably had a good idea of just how bad those socks were.
The sound of his muffled crying was enough to make me realise that the kid
really wasn't looking forward to facing his Master's socks again.
Poor little guy.
If only the alternatives weren't so bad...
Four socks from Shawn.
Four socks from Brad.
Nick had managed to pull off two decisive wins against his opponents, and therefore had the privilege of adding two of his own socks to the mix.
"Well...I went through my hamper and took all my socks out before leaving. But since I'm only getting two points, there's no reason for me to get my bag out." he explained, causing me to gulp in fear and make myself a bit smaller.
"Might as well just use these socks." he said, calmly lowering his feet the floor and reaching down to pull his bad boys off.
A sickening, wet 'plop' echoed across the room as the blond hunk pulled his giant basketball shoes off and exposed his enormous sock-clad soles.
The big muscle-King just pulled his huge stinkers off and put them on the coffee table, before quickly slipping his naked feet back into his festering basketball shoes.
Brad's reaction was priceless, and so was Shawn's.
"DUDE! What the fuck?!" Brad exclaimed, simultaneously laughing and coughing from the smell that was oozing out of the blond god's giant socks.
"Bro, those look
seriously toxic." Shawn commented, sounding noticeably calmer than Brad.
The younger Alpha's own socks smelled of rotten cheese and fermenting potatoes, so it was only normal for him not to be as "impressed" as Brad was about Nick's overpowering raunch.
Brad had strong smelling feet, but he was WAY out of his league here.
Nick didn't just have smelly feet.
The blond Alpha actually had some SERIOUS foot odour problems, and so did his cousin.
Brad's black socks stank to high heavens, but the cocky jock seemed genuinely grossed out by the socks that the two beefy cousins had thrown onto his table.
And I couldn't blame him.
Nick's giant socks were FILTHY beyond belief and just looked plain ROTTEN.
Shawn's socks were just as revolting!
The mere sight of them made me sick to my stomach, and things only got worse when the stench coming out of those socks started filling the room up.
Ugh!
I kept my mouth open to avoid breathing in the combined stench of the ten socks sitting on the living room table.
But then I thought of poor Jeremy, who was lying on the floor with his mouth taped shut and his nostrils flaring open.
The poor kid had no choice but to sniff in the UNBEARABLE stench.
And to his great dismay, things were about to get worse. A LOT worse.
I watched in silent apprehension as Brad quickly drank the remnants of his beer and put the bottle down, so that it was lying flat, right in the center of the large coffee table.
"Alright guys, get your socks lined up." he told Nick and Shawn, who both seemed pretty eager to follow our host's instructions.
All ten socks were aligned into a perfect circle around the bottle, and at that point I was expecting this to turn into a simple game of Russian Roulette.
I wasn't far off. This would
indeed be a game of chance, but with an added element.
"Alright kiddo. Down. On the floor." Nick suddenly ordered, placing his hand on my back and prodding me off the couch.
I knelt down in front of my Master, and offered up a look of fear and confusion.
But Brad was quick to step in to soothe my worries.
"Since you're his friend, we thought it would be fun if you were the one to spin the bottle." Brad told, looking straight into my eyes as I knelt next to the coffee table and glanced down to see a struggling Jeremy.
I was about to object, but Brad carried on with explaining the rules of the game to me.
"The rules are pretty simple." he explained. "You spin the bottle, and chance will do the rest. Mummy-boi over here, can refuse the result of the first and second spins. But if he refuses the second spin, he'll have to accept the third spin and won't be able to go back, even if the third result is worse than the second one. Got it?" he finally asked, making sure I understood everything.
I did. Not that it mattered anyway.
I mean, all I had to do was spin the stupid bottle.
I didn't know why they were making me do this, but I'm guessing Nick and Brad thought it would be fun to make me play a role in my own friend's demise.
They knew it would make me feel guilty, and maybe even anger Jeremy a little.
Whatever their intentions, I really wanted no part in this. But it's not as though I was being given any choice.
It was either obey, or face the consequences.
"Any last words, mummy-boi?" Nick chuckled, scooting forward on the couch and giving poor Jeremy a gentle kick.
"Mmmpphhg. Uggghmmph..." the boy cried out, causing all three jocks to burst out laughing.
"Mmmmhhh. Mmmhhhh." Brad moaned, mimicking his helpless teen prisoner before chuckling cockily. "Pathetic! Alright, let's get this over with." he ordered, rubbing his hands together and scooting closer towards the table.
Against my own free volition, I took hold of the empty beer bottle and spun.
*SPIN. SPIN. SPIN. SPIN*
The bottle must've spun close to a dozen times before it started slowing down.
I watched Jeremy's eyes betray a feeling of pure fear and dread as the bottle starting slowing down and eventually came to a halt.
The tension in the room was palpable as Brad's beer bottle stopped spinning.
And it ended up pointing directly towards one Shawn's enormous Lacoste socks!
"Yeah!" the blond jock exclaimed, closing his right hand into a fist and nudging Nick's similarly extended hand, in a show of solidarity.
From the looks of is, the young man was starting to take a liking to this stuff.
At first, he was a bit cold and distant. But after breaking the ice and actively taking a role in silencing little Jeremy, the jock
definitely appeared to be warming up to his role as an Alpha male.
I thought I'd only be spinning the bottle, but apparently the three studs had other plans for me.
"Come on! Pick the sock up. Come here." Brad barked, ordering me to crawl closer to him and take position close to Jeremy's gagged face.
I picked up Shawn's rotten sock and held it at arm's length before slowly making my way over to where my friend was lying.
The young jock's putrid stinker was HUGE!
There was no way that smelly thing could end up fitting inside Jeremy's mouth.
Surely they all realised that?!
"What are you waiting for?" Brad hissed, apparently impatient to get on with the game. "Come on! We don't have all night. Make him sniff the sock. Now!" he ordered, looking none too happy at the fact that I was reluctant to play a part in all this.
Damn.
I sat there, looking down at my poor, pleading friend's pitiful expression.
I was absolutely heartbroken that the three hunks were making me do this stuff.
Poor Jeremy cried inside his duct tape prison.
He shook his head and gave me a pleading look, begging me not to go forward with what I was being ordered to do.
He must've realised I didn't have a choice. He must've understood that none of this was my fault!
But right now, he didn't seem to accept that, and that made it extra difficult for me.
The way he was looked up into my eyes, made me feel as though I was betraying him.
But I couldn't disobey Brad's orders, and couldn't go against all three jocks.
This was survival of the fittest, and as much as I felt bad for what Jeremy was going through, the LAST thing I wanted was to join him and give the dominant bullies another victim to fool around with.
I looked down into my friend's terrified, pleading eyes, and gave him an apologetic look.
"I'm sorry." I whispered, forcing myself to ignore his frenzied cries for mercy.
Without saying another word, I bunched up Shawn's giant, incredibly putrid Lacoste sock, and slowly lowered it over the gagged boy's face before smothering his nose up inside the super cheesy wad.