EASY PREY III: A MOUTHFUL OF SOCKS (M/m) *UPDATE MAR 03*

[gag1195]

Ethan really is getting the short end of the stick in this family! I really hope Dad decides to have Andrew join his beleaguered brother soon!

[harveygasson]

Been away for a while again and always great to come back to some new parts of this awesome story

[Footsub]

Love that Andrew and his dad are testing limits here. Can’t wait for the next chapter. I wasn’t originally sure how I felt about a dad’s involvement, but this works - truly.

[ShadowHusky]

I mean this chapter checks all the boxes for me, you know that. What can I say except I loved it and I'm excited to see how this develops and how Mitch will tow the line of being playful and being devious.

[Red86]

"I was off the hook for the time being, but my ordeal as the living room's laughing stock was far from over"

Well Ethan, sounds like you're just gonna have to endure it for now. Not only are you the laughing stock of your living room but ours too. You opened pandora's box and I don't think you'll be getting the lid closed again. You might only get some peace after your brother is off to college. You've finally admitted to liking alot of this. So suck it up buttercup

[Pup Wingletang]

Let this be a lesson to all of us to CHANGE OUR DAMN SOCKS!

I'm with Volobond on this one - is it really that difficult to get a fresh pair of socks out of the sock draw in the morning! Men truly are disgusting creatures but we love them anyway.

Looks like Ethan really is having his limits pushed this time around - be careful what you wish for! Nice to see Mitch getting more involved in his son's predicament and I like how Andrew is trying to manipulate him into giving his blessing for these activities to continue. He definitely has mine.

[Sockgaggedman]

Poor Ethan, betrayed by his very own father. But you must be very talkative in day to day life that even your own kin agrees that you are better off gagged

Something tells me that if the sexy fireman dad finds out that his son is actually chewing on his " good looking" brother's sock he would not be as pleased and decide to make a worthy punishment for the lesser alpha in the room!
( but something also tells me that he will not ungag his other son, but that he will take advantage of his self made quiet evening, watching sports, blow gas, and occasionaly tape a dirty work boot, or running shoe over his sons faces, as one does )

But want thing is certain, I would pay good money to be in the place of one of his sons in that evening!

[bondagefreak]

I wasn’t originally sure how I felt about a dad’s involvement, but this works - truly.

I'm so glad it's working out for you, buddy-boi!
Admittedly, I was somewhat aware that this final part of the saga could alienate a few of my readers.

The vast majority of the M/M guys on here seem to really love brother vs brother scenarios. But when it comes to dad vs son ones, the receptive audience shrinks a little. Many of the guys I've spoken to over the years have admitted to only being able to enjoy dad/son scenarios if they got to see the dad and found him hot or attractive. Having photos of said dad helps those readers break that subconscious (and often distasteful) connection their minds make to their own fathers while reading such tales.

I'm not sure how [mention]Ossassin[/mention] [mention]OrdinaryWorld[/mention] [mention]Sniffmyfeet[/mention] and the rest of the guys who don't typically enjoy dad/son scenarios as much feel about Mitch's involvement now that he's been revealed, but I'm beyond thrilled to know that he's garnered your favour!

[LockedCheeseBird]

I'm not a fan of father/son-stories, yet the fathers in your stories seem to be exceptions to that. This easy-going, playful teasing I can handle. I think it's fun for a change, and I did like Andrew's quick thinking and also his embarrassment.

And damn, I like black socks a lot, but those look foul! I can't imagine it feels nice to walk and work in those, or put them on in the morning...

[bondagefreak]

A VERY SPECIAL THANKS TO ALL THOSE OF YOU WHO TOOK THE TIME TO COMMENT ON THE LAST CHAPTER

THIS NEXT CHAPTER IS DEDICATED TO @socjuc

@LockedCheeseBird @Finnan @Jb99 @Volobond @BlueZephyr @Red86 @Socksbound @gaggedfeety @OrdinaryWorld @gag1195 @Wedgieboy69 @Msueta@2 @4toes @harveygasson @Sockgaggedman @squirrel @GoBucks @Sockbound1234 @Ossassin @Pup Wingletang @Mummybag @KidnappedCowboy @Footsub @Gagfan @Kratos @The slave @blackbound @ShadowHusky @cj2125 @socjuc @DeanSummer24 @wataru14 @CrownedLoy76 @sami200456boyfriend @Batsox @JDT544 @N9292 @Mitchelaiden @Jason07 @tugfan @Whitestorm @EJTied22 @Batsox @Boston2265 @Jason07 @frankburns @vincenzotognolo22 @ChiDrag221

[bondagefreak]

CHAPTER VI

EASY PREY III

LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON

It must've been around 8 PM when the first of the two-hour-long hockey games ended and the second one began.
I should also specify that I was just about ready to crack by that point, and that I was somewhat vehemently protesting my fate in the hopes that dad would free me from Andrew's maddening gurney restraints.

Unfortunately for me, the quality of our living room stereo system and the volume that it was playing at more than easily took care of drowning my demands out.

The arena crowd was raucous, the sports commentators were relentless and those repetitive TV commercials were playing obnoxiously loud as well. Adding to the protest-impeeding volume blasting out of the living room sound system, my own brother's rotten, debris-infested ankle sock reigned supreme over my cavity; excluding me from the equation like some dictatorial tyrant-king.



I was initially very upset when my captors appeared to be ignoring me. But when I came to the inevitable conclusion that they genuinely could not hear my protests, my frustration grew tenfold.

For a while there I struggled against the innumerable straps holding me down and fumed against my cheese-scented sockgag. The stench of my dad's socked soles and the fumes coming out of my hairy-legged brother's running shoes was such that I actively began calling for help. I kid you not. I was literally calling for help and screaming for the neighbours to call the cops on us. I wanted out and I wanted out now!

It's only when I overheard my captors speaking and heard the both of them adopt a somewhat more sober tone that I calmed down and focused on something other than my own fate.


"So are you still thinking of going ahead with the move?" dad asked, obviously speaking of something he and my brother had previously discussed together.

"Yeah, one of the guys living across the hall from Mike is moving out in two weeks. My friends are already super stoked and hyped up about my moving in with them. They've been bugging me about it for months now." Andrew answered, causing my eyes to go wide and forcing me to silently reflect on what I was hearing.

"Well, it's like your mother and I told you. We'll be keeping your room exactly the way it is so that you can come home whenever you feel like it." dad spoke, visibly a little saddened but somewhat proud of the fact that his eldest son would soon spread his wings and leave the nest, so to speak.

"Thanks, dad! And yeah, don't worry. I'll be coming over to see you and mum every weekend or two" the gamer-jock assured.

"That's good. I'm glad to hear that. I know the commute's been tiring you out recently, so even though we're sad to see you leave, your mum and I both understand. Anyways, how far did you say Mike's place was from your school again? Is it like a fifteen-minute bus ride or something?"

"No, it's literally a ten-minute walk!" came Andrew's enthusiastic reply, the intonation of his voice leaving little doubt as to the eagerness he felt to be rid of his current 45-minute-long commute.

"Yeah, that'll save you a bunch of time. Well, like I said, you'll be welcome back here anytime. I'll be missing you and I'm sure your little brother will be missing you as well. Ain't that right, chatterbox?" dad teased, bending down to look at me before lowering a hand to ruffle my hair up.

I glared up and growled somewhat defiantly, but was still a little shaken from the news that my brother would be moving out in a few weeks. His move might not be permanent, but even if it wasn't, he still had a solid two or three years of studies left in front of him. His promise to come over on weekends certainly did much to relieve part of the sadness I felt, but then I knew it just wouldn't be the same anymore.

When it slowly dawned upon me that our days together were numbered and that these regular tie-up sessions I'd gotten used to were coming to an end, I stopped waging war on my restraints and actively began sucking on my gag.

I had genuinely grown to abhor Andrew's feet, but the prospect of losing these games of ours weighed heavily on my mind.

I didn't want him to move out.
I didn't want our games to end.




My attention was soon drawn back to more pressing matters when dad's pair of beefy socked soles landed down on top of my torso. He and my brother continued watching the game, sipping their beers and making small-talk, but then I knew something was up when the seated fireman began bouncing his huge feet on top of my chest and running his soles across my abdomen.

"You're all skin and bones, boi! But you do make a comfortable footrest." the middle-aged hunk teased, chugging down another mouthful of beer before rubbing his soles against the front of my torso.

Andrew chuckled in delight and rapidly joined in by resting his own freakishly large soles on my stomach and thighs.

I cried out in frustration, not only from the embarrassment of being turned into a footrest but also from the puke-inducing stench of dad's shitty black work socks.


"Hahaha!" the beefy man laughed, apparently noticing my growing discontent and finding great joy in seeing my horrified expression.

"What's a matter, kiddo? Not feeling talkative?" he teased, suddenly taking things a little further by bringing his left foot over my face and curling his bulbous socked toes around my vulnerable sniff-holes.


Words can't even begin to describe the sheer terror I experienced.

Just to give you guys a little more background info; Andrew and I had been playing those games of ours for nearly a year by that point. His foot odour had grown fierce to the point of no longer being enjoyable, and his socks reeked of a stench so powerful it was hard to describe. But even though smelly socks and boxers were his stuffings of choice when it came to gagging me, we'd always given a wide berth to our father's dirty laundry.

Don't get me wrong, the man-of-the-house was definitely a cool dad and all, but his foot odour was problematic to the point of warranting anti-fungal foot creams and prescription foot powders. There was something truly off-putting and unhealthy about it. So much so that his stuff was deemed off-limits.


In any case, dad was notorious for having the raunchiest and most powerful of foot odours. The entire family knew it. The entire extended family knew it. His friends knew it. And so did all the guys over at the fire station. The only person I knew who didn't seem bothered by dad's putrescent foot odour was - you probably guessed it - dad himself!


On a normal day, I cleared the room whenever I saw him pulling off his shoes or work boots.
If his socks were a day old, they'd stink the vicinity up. If his socks were two days old, they'd stink the entire room up. Rare were the times when mum would let him get away with wearing the same socks for more than two days.
This, however, was one of those times.

The cotton stink bombs currently stretched taut across his beefy wide soles weren't just a couple of days old though. They'd been on his feet for nearly a week! You could smell them from all the way over in the kitchen!

The only way Andrew was managing to cope with the eyebrow-singeing acridity that filled the living room was by chugging large quantities of beer down and breathing through his mouth the whole time.

Much to my understandable panic, I had no such available recourse.
My mouth had been plugged up and my face had been sealed shut. I couldn't part my lips for the life of me, couldn't turn my head around in any direction, and was left with no other option than to flare my nostrils open and face the full brunt of dad's notoriously unbearable foot odour head-on.





The reek that spilt into my sniff-holes was indescribable at best.
Never in a million years had I imagined being this close to dad's ginormous soles. And yet, there I was, strapped down to some heavily padded medical restraint bed, with dad's indescribably putrid socked toes resting squarely atop my nostrils.

If there actually was such a thing as hell, I knew I was already in it.



"Sniffy sniff! Hahaha!" my hunky father excitedly cheered, his deep baritone laughter filling the living room up as another one of his godawful farts punctuated the cacophony.

"Dad, you're gonna kill him!" Andrew laughed, repeating the same objection he'd voiced earlier but doing an increasingly poor job at concealing his amusement.

Dad didn't give a flying fuck though. He was clearly having a great deal of fun at my expense and continued laughing his ass off at the spectacle of my continuing demise.

"Hahaha! I haven't had my toes sniffed in AGES! The last person to get a whiff o' them was your uncle Ricky, and that was almost twenty years ago!" he cheered, no doubt referring to one of the jockish torments he'd previously subjected his younger brother through.


I was literally on the verge of puking my guts out at that point, but dad didn't seem to care. He simply rubbed his sickeningly raunchy toes all over my face and then curled them back up over my nasal protrusion before exploding into a tremendous bout of laughter.

My mind must've momentarily blanked out at that point, 'cause from what Andrew told me later that night, my face had gone cross-eyed and my skin had turned greenish.


Dad eventually pulled his foot away from my nose but immediately brought his other one down to replace it.

I'm not sure whether it was the three beers he'd had or whether he was just really happy to have the long weekend off, but the man-in-charge was even more joyous than usual and seemed to be getting an absolute thrill from the fact that he was getting his toes sniffed.

Dad watched as my defenceless nostrils flared beneath his suffocatingly fat digits, but did nothing to convey sympathy.
He simply curled them up atop my nasal passageways and turned his focus over to Andrew.

He then spent minutes going on and on about that time he and his fellow firefighters had hazed two of the station's junior recruits. It was a tale he'd told us several times over the course of the last three years, but somehow he never got tired of telling it.

Dad was real proud of the role he'd played in ambushing and helping wrestle down the two young firefighter recruits. But he was even prouder about the fact that his own two socks - not to mention a fair amount of extra-wide duct tape - had been used as stuff-gags to prevent the two unlucky fellows from screaming after they'd been forcibly hogtied and then hosed down several hours later.


Had Andrew been a bit more loosened up by those two beers he'd had, he might've actually spilt the beans about the similar role his own socks had played during the forceful mummifying of that college skaterboy a short while ago.

Knowing how aroused this stuff made my brother and considering the fact that dad's account was being told with so much gusto, I'm pretty sure the hairy-legged gamer was struggling to conceal the big boner in his shorts by that point.

His attention seemed partially focused on dad, but his eyes kept darting towards me. It's almost as if the 20-year-old college jock was mesmerised by the sight of dad's toes over my nose, and it's almost as if he was in a state of utter shock at the fact that our blabbering father didn't appear intent on removing them.



I must've spent almost five whole minutes with my nose trapped beneath the talkative muscleman's insanely fat toes before he finally brought his focus down and seemed to remember my existence. Dad didn't say much after that. He simply scooted forward in his seat and pulled his foot away before bringing his other one over my nostrils again.

"Haha! Yeah, sniff those shitty fucks." he dominantly muttered, chuckling beneath his breath.

My mind barely registered the way he tried returning his focus back to the TV screen only to keep eyeing my face again.
He repeated the process of rubbing his feet over my face and kept those godawful oversized toes of his curled up around my nostrils for several more minutes.

The glossiness of his eyes and the slight flushing of his cheeks confirmed that his senses were being slightly numbed by the alcohol he'd consumed. Not that he was drunk or anything, but I guess you could say that he was borderline tipsy.

Dad was usually pretty funny when he was sufficiently loosened up.
He never drank during the week. Only on weekends.
His Friday evening beers were sacred, and doubly so on long-weekend Fridays like this one.


All in all, the only redeeming portion of that evening - for me, that is - would be watching Andrew getting a fully deserving - albeit very brief - taste of his own medicine. It wasn't much of a consolation for what I was going through, but any consolation was better than no consolation at all!

[The slave]

excellent this new chapter I love

[LockedCheeseBird]

Great chapter, very curious to see what Andrew's fate will be! And I love the little details about other people in your stories, makes it feel all connected. Very nice!

[Volobond]

Some bittersweet contemplation of Andrew's departure... here's hoping Ethan can figure out an alternative way to keep getting humiliated and immobilized!

And jeez, those pictures of Mitch's socks... those poor firefighters.

[wataru14]

Mitch is certainly a welcome addition to this fun-loving family. But what does he have in store for Andrew? Can't wait to see!

[Msueta@2]

Excellent chapter bondage freak .

[ShadowHusky]

It will be interesting to see which of the guys would be moving out. Going by who was least present, my guess would be Nathan, but it could absolutely be Phil, Josh, or Kyle

[gag1195]

At this point I'm very surprised that the neighbors can't smell the foot funk coming from this house! Someone needs to call a hazmat unit! I know Ethan is going to miss Andrew and his tie ups when the older bro moves out, but I'm sure his olfactory senses are very thankful!

[GoBucks]

Very hot chapter as always! Mitch sure does like having a sock sniffer. Poor guy hasn't had one in so long. May I volunteer as tribute?

Also interesting little nugget about Andrew joining the college gang. I wonder which of the roommates he will be replacing.

[socjuc]

[mention]bondagefreak[/mention] ....I am not worthy... Thanks man. Loved this chapter for several reasons

"...Hahaha! I haven't had my toes sniffed in AGES! The last person to get a whiff o' them was your uncle Johnny, and that was almost twenty years ago!" he cheered, no doubt referring to one of the jockish torments he'd previously subjected his younger brother through."

Something tells me that Mitch has suddenly awakened his enjoyment to have his socked toes sniffed. Especially how he continued to replace his toes to Ethan's nose... Think he will take over from Andrew?

Then almost as important, with Andrew:

"...Knowing how aroused this stuff made my brother and considering the fact that dad's account was being told with so much gusto, I'm pretty sure the hairy-legged gamer was struggling to conceal the big boner in his shorts by that point.

His attention seemed partially focused on dad, but his eyes kept darting towards me. It's almost as if the 20-year-old college jock was mesmerised by the sight of dad's toes over my nose, and it's almost as if he was in a state of utter shock at the fact that our blabbering father didn't appear intent on removing them."

You know that this has planted the seed in Andrew's mind and I can see Andrew now starting to do the same thing

I am not sad about Andrew moving out...I think this chapter has opened up so many possibilities...Mitch taking over the reigns at home. But then also Andrew coming home on weekends and intensifying his episodes with his brother....Or even better (clearing my throat), Andrew brings Ethan to his pad on weekends.... I think he could even perhaps be parallel to Steven some day. Possibilities are endless

[Pup Wingletang]

Mitch is definitely starting to loosen up now and I'm definitely feeling sorry for Ethan. I think his fantasy may have turned into something of a nightmare! Nice to get some hints at Mitch's past and the fact that his sons seem to be following in the footsteps of their dad and uncle. I want to know more about the firefighter recruits!

Looking forward to Andrew's steps out into the wider world. I feel he may crop up in another story.

[Msueta@2]

[mention]bondagefreak[/mention] the father got his socks sniffed he next needs his feet sniffed . His toes sniffed . Then have his shoes sniffed .

[vincenzotognolo22]

CHAPTER VI

EASY PREY III

LIKE FATHER, LIKE SON

It must've been around 8 PM when the first of the two-hour-long hockey games ended and the second one began.
I should also specify that I was just about ready to crack by that point, and that I was somewhat vehemently protesting my fate in the hopes that dad would free me from Andrew's maddening gurney restraints.

Unfortunately for me, the quality of our living room stereo system and the volume that it was playing at more than easily took care of drowning my demands out.

The arena crowd was raucous, the sports commentators were relentless and those repetitive TV commercials were playing obnoxiously loud as well. Adding to the protest-impeeding volume blasting out of the living room sound system, my own brother's rotten, debris-infested ankle sock reigned supreme over my cavity; excluding me from the equation like some dictatorial tyrant-king.



I was initially very upset when my captors appeared to be ignoring me. But when I came to the inevitable conclusion that they genuinely could not hear my protests, my frustration grew tenfold.

For a while there I struggled against the innumerable straps holding me down and fumed against my cheese-scented sockgag. The stench of my dad's socked soles and the fumes coming out of my hairy-legged brother's running shoes was such that I actively began calling for help. I kid you not. I was literally calling for help and screaming for the neighbours to call the cops on us. I wanted out and I wanted out now!

It's only when I overheard my captors speaking and heard the both of them adopt a somewhat more sober tone that I calmed down and focused on something other than my own fate.


"So are you still thinking of going ahead with the move?" dad asked, obviously speaking of something he and my brother had previously discussed together.

"Yeah, one of the guys living across the hall from Mike is moving out in two weeks. My friends are already super stoked and hyped up about my moving in with them. They've been bugging me about it for months now." Andrew answered, causing my eyes to go wide and forcing me to silently reflect on what I was hearing.

"Well, it's like your mother and I told you. We'll be keeping your room exactly the way it is so that you can come home whenever you feel like it." dad spoke, visibly a little saddened but somewhat proud of the fact that his eldest son would soon spread his wings and leave the nest, so to speak.

"Thanks, dad! And yeah, don't worry. I'll be coming over to see you and mum every weekend or two" the gamer-jock assured.

"That's good. I'm glad to hear that. I know the commute's been tiring you out recently, so even though we're sad to see you leave, your mum and I both understand. Anyways, how far did you say Mike's place was from your school again? Is it like a fifteen-minute bus ride or something?"

"No, it's literally a ten-minute walk!" came Andrew's enthusiastic reply, the intonation of his voice leaving little doubt as to the eagerness he felt to be rid of his current 45-minute-long commute.

"Yeah, that'll save you a bunch of time. Well, like I said, you'll be welcome back here anytime. I'll be missing you and I'm sure your little brother will be missing you as well. Ain't that right, chatterbox?" dad teased, bending down to look at me before lowering a hand to ruffle my hair up.

I glared up and growled somewhat defiantly, but was still a little shaken from the news that my brother would be moving out in a few weeks. His move might not be permanent, but even if it wasn't, he still had a solid two or three years of studies left in front of him. His promise to come over on weekends certainly did much to relieve part of the sadness I felt, but then I knew it just wouldn't be the same anymore.

When it slowly dawned upon me that our days together were numbered and that these regular tie-up sessions I'd gotten used to were coming to an end, I stopped waging war on my restraints and actively began sucking on my gag.

I had genuinely grown to abhor Andrew's feet, but the prospect of losing these games of ours weighed heavily on my mind.

I didn't want him to move out.
I didn't want our games to end.




My attention was soon drawn back to more pressing matters when dad's pair of beefy socked soles landed down on top of my torso. He and my brother continued watching the game, sipping their beers and making small-talk, but then I knew something was up when the seated fireman began bouncing his huge feet on top of my chest and running his soles across my abdomen.

"You're all skin and bones, boi! But you do make a comfortable footrest." the middle-aged hunk teased, chugging down another mouthful of beer before rubbing his soles against the front of my torso.

Andrew chuckled in delight and rapidly joined in by resting his own freakishly large soles on my stomach and thighs.

I cried out in frustration, not only from the embarrassment of being turned into a footrest but also from the puke-inducing stench of dad's shitty black work socks.


"Hahaha!" the beefy man laughed, apparently noticing my growing discontent and finding great joy in seeing my horrified expression.

"What's a matter, kiddo? Not feeling talkative?" he teased, suddenly taking things a little further by bringing his left foot over my face and curling his bulbous socked toes around my vulnerable sniff-holes.


Words can't even begin to describe the sheer terror I experienced.

Just to give you guys a little more background info; Andrew and I had been playing those games of ours for nearly a year by that point. His foot odour had grown fierce to the point of no longer being enjoyable, and his socks reeked of a stench so powerful it was hard to describe. But even though smelly socks and boxers were his stuffings of choice when it came to gagging me, we'd always given a wide berth to our father's dirty laundry.

Don't get me wrong, the man-of-the-house was definitely a cool dad and all, but his foot odour was problematic to the point of warranting anti-fungal foot creams and prescription foot powders. There was something truly off-putting and unhealthy about it. So much so that his stuff was deemed off-limits.


In any case, dad was notorious for having the raunchiest and most powerful of foot odours. The entire family knew it. The entire extended family knew it. His friends knew it. And so did all the guys over at the fire station. The only person I knew who didn't seem bothered by dad's putrescent foot odour was - you probably guessed it - dad himself!


On a normal day, I cleared the room whenever I saw him pulling off his shoes or work boots.
If his socks were a day old, they'd stink the vicinity up. If his socks were two days old, they'd stink the entire room up. Rare were the times when mum would let him get away with wearing the same socks for more than two days.
This, however, was one of those times.

The cotton stink bombs currently stretched taut across his beefy wide soles weren't just a couple of days old though. They'd been on his feet for nearly a week! You could smell them from all the way over in the kitchen!

The only way Andrew was managing to cope with the eyebrow-singeing acridity that filled the living room was by chugging large quantities of beer down and breathing through his mouth the whole time.

Much to my understandable panic, I had no such available recourse.
My mouth had been plugged up and my face had been sealed shut. I couldn't part my lips for the life of me, couldn't turn my head around in any direction, and was left with no other option than to flare my nostrils open and face the full brunt of dad's notoriously unbearable foot odour head-on.





The reek that spilt into my sniff-holes was indescribable at best.
Never in a million years had I imagined being this close to dad's ginormous soles. And yet, there I was, strapped down to some heavily padded medical restraint bed, with dad's indescribably putrid socked toes resting squarely atop my nostrils.

If there actually was such a thing as hell, I knew I was already in it.



"Sniffy sniff! Hahaha!" my hunky father excitedly cheered, his deep baritone laughter filling the living room up as another one of his godawful farts punctuated the cacophony.

"Dad, you're gonna kill him!" Andrew laughed, repeating the same objection he'd voiced earlier but doing an increasingly poor job at concealing his amusement.

Dad didn't give a flying fuck though. He was clearly having a great deal of fun at my expense and continued laughing his ass off at the spectacle of my continuing demise.

"Hahaha! I haven't had my toes sniffed in AGES! The last person to get a whiff o' them was your uncle Johnny, and that was almost twenty years ago!" he cheered, no doubt referring to one of the jockish torments he'd previously subjected his younger brother through.


I was literally on the verge of puking my guts out at that point, but dad didn't seem to care. He simply rubbed his sickeningly raunchy toes all over my face and then curled them back up over my nasal protrusion before exploding into a tremendous bout of laughter.

My mind must've momentarily blanked out at that point, 'cause from what Andrew told me later that night, my face had gone cross-eyed and my skin had turned greenish.


Dad eventually pulled his foot away from my nose but immediately brought his other one down to replace it.

I'm not sure whether it was the three beers he'd had or whether he was just really happy to have the long weekend off, but the man-in-charge was even more joyous than usual and seemed to be getting an absolute thrill from the fact that he was getting his toes sniffed.

Dad watched as my defenceless nostrils flared beneath his suffocatingly fat digits, but did nothing to convey sympathy.
He simply curled them up atop my nasal passageways and turned his focus over to Andrew.

He then spent minutes going on and on about that time he and his fellow firefighters had hazed two of the station's junior recruits. It was a tale he'd told us several times over the course of the last three years, but somehow he never got tired of telling it.

Dad was real proud of the role he'd played in ambushing and helping wrestle down the two young firefighter recruits. But he was even prouder about the fact that his own two socks - not to mention a fair amount of extra-wide duct tape - had been used as stuff-gags to prevent the two unlucky fellows from screaming after they'd been forcibly hogtied and then hosed down several hours later.


Had Andrew been a bit more loosened up by those two beers he'd had, he might've actually spilt the beans about the similar role his own socks had played during the forceful mummifying of that college skaterboy a short while ago.

Knowing how aroused this stuff made my brother and considering the fact that dad's account was being told with so much gusto, I'm pretty sure the hairy-legged gamer was struggling to conceal the big boner in his shorts by that point.

His attention seemed partially focused on dad, but his eyes kept darting towards me. It's almost as if the 20-year-old college jock was mesmerised by the sight of dad's toes over my nose, and it's almost as if he was in a state of utter shock at the fact that our blabbering father didn't appear intent on removing them.



I must've spent almost five whole minutes with my nose trapped beneath the talkative muscleman's insanely fat toes before he finally brought his focus down and seemed to remember my existence. Dad didn't say much after that. He simply scooted forward in his seat and pulled his foot away before bringing his other one over my nostrils again.

"Haha! Yeah, sniff those shitty fucks." he dominantly muttered, chuckling beneath his breath.

My mind barely registered the way he tried returning his focus back to the TV screen only to keep eyeing my face again.
He repeated the process of rubbing his feet over my face and kept those godawful oversized toes of his curled up around my nostrils for several more minutes.

The glossiness of his eyes and the slight flushing of his cheeks confirmed that his senses were being slightly numbed by the alcohol he'd consumed. Not that he was drunk or anything, but I guess you could say that he was borderline tipsy.

Dad was usually pretty funny when he was sufficiently loosened up.
He never drank during the week. Only on weekends.
His Friday evening beers were sacred, and doubly so on long-weekend Fridays like this one.


All in all, the only redeeming portion of that evening - for me, that is - would be watching Andrew getting a fully deserving - albeit very brief - taste of his own medicine. It wasn't much of a consolation for what I was going through, but any consolation was better than no consolation at all!

great chapter! i love how dominant the father is, I can’t wait to see what he’s going to do next.
good job buddy

[ChiDrag221]

I wonder if there are any parallels between this Mitch and the Mitch from the old story "The Bondage Buddies." There also used to be a scene in that old story that involved being tied down on the ground and forced to endure scented torture, though I think in that case it was a chair rather than a gurney.

[squirrel]

What a perfect chapter! Being forced to sniff big brother's and father's super smelly socks is exactly what a good prisoner should go through