Stories of Tie Up Games

Hahahaha

BF, gou've introduced yet another cute hunk with an unfortunate malodorous extremity! Kudos to Andrew for keeping calm - must be that emergency training kicking in!

Something tells me fate is conspiring to remove Mitch's boots...

Wow! I have to admit that Andrew handled the situation very well. It must have been quite a sight for Mitch: his son all restrained and heavily gagged.

I am so glad he decided to play along and leave the kid tied up and gagged for the rest of the evening. Such a great Dad

Good work by Andrew there to diffuse the situation - if in doubt play it cool and pass it off as a bet!. I loved the quick discarding of the second sock to hide the location of the first. They've definitely got one cool and hunky Dad and it looks like he's going to play along - Andrew may still be in danger though...

Volobond wrote: ↑2 years ago an unfortunate malodorous extremity!

A great euphemism there!

As others have mentioned, Andrew is quick thinking.... playing the bet, the hiding of the sock, playing it as 'normal'. He is someone who you don't want to get on your bad side. You will always lose..... Or maybe that can be a good thing

Now let's see how this plays out as Mitch's presence adds another dynamic to how this can unfold. I wonder just how Andy boi will spin this situation into his favour? I kind of think that Ethan will end up frustrated and at the short end of the stick...

Wow that was some Phil level thinking by Andrew. I'm impressed!

So glad Ethan is going to endure being at the feet of both his dad and brother for 5 hours! I'm sure those feet aren't daisies after a long day of work.

This is beautiful! Can’t wait to see what Ethan’s father is going to do. This is going to be so fun

I love the way you took the story away from the expected and rather common route of them being caught and the dad jumping in on the action. I love the save and the slow burn effect you're giving this.

Oh how easily their dad just goes with Andrew's quick thinking response And for 5 hours too

Andrew definitely acted quick under pressure, but I have a feeling he's not out of the woods yet...

From lying about his brother to sneakingly putting the sock under the couch Andrew really did play his cards well!
Dad doesn't even know that under what seem just a fiew layers of duct tape lies a VERY dirty stuffing!
Better yet, he even played along!
I can’t wait for those long hour fireman boots to come out! Who knows, maybe dad will play along so well that he will make his son sniff them!
Only time will tell...

And [mention]bondagefreak[/mention] ,you are very naughty to introduce yet another hot dad with a foot odor to your stories!
I just can't wait for us to get a photo of his socks, so I can... analyse it... to say so

Mitch, I see you with those big ol' thighs...

I will always prefere big and buffy Mitch over long and slender Andrew!
And Sir [mention]bondagefreak[/mention] ,can you call me- I mean us- nerds more often Sir-Master daddy - I mean Sir!

The are both hunks

Firefighter Dad Mitchell is so hot!!!

My captors spent the first hour of their lazy evening sipping beers and absentmindedly watching the pre-game commentary. They spoke about work, school, paramedic training and other things I couldn't yet relate to. Save for the fact that I was sucking on the grossest and possibly most horrible smelling sock I'd ever sniffed to date, things weren't so bad at first.

It's only when the 43-year-old firefighter raised his left foot up over his knee and began undoing the crusty old laces of his enormous work boot that things started getting messy.


A sickeningly wet plop was heard, the sound of a relieved sigh followed suit, and then the easily recognisable thud of dad's giant work boot landing on the floor met my ears. The same process was repeated for his other boot, and by the time both of them were off, the strongest and most foul of odours had begun permeating the living room.

It was to the point where even Andrew let a complaint out and crinkled his nose up.





"Ugh, daaaad!" the lanky gamer-jock cried out, turning his head away and waving a hand in front of his face.
The gesture was more symbolic than anything else, but dad would have none of it.

"Stuff it, big guy. I get enough nagging from your mother. I don't need my eldest son starting that as well. Besides, your running shoes don't exactly smell like roses, and this place was already smelling like shit before I got here." the man-of-the-house tactlessly responded, crossing his large hands behind his head and plopping his massive soles down on top of the living room table.


Not that it made my predicament any less terrible, mind you, but dad was definitely correct on all counts. While it's true that he had the strongest foot odour of anyone I'd ever known - with Andrew coming in at a close second - my big brother was virtually unmatched in the smelly shoe and sock department. Thanks to mum's timely interventions, dad didn't usually go more than a day or two before changing his socks. And even then, they stank to high heavens.

As terrible and as foul as dad's socks were though, they were no match for Andrew's week-and-a-half old ones.
The furry-legged goliath gamer would often go WEEKS before changing his socks. And when he did, he'd often end up simply re-wearing the same raunchy ones lining the floor of his laundry-littered bedroom.

All that to say that Andrew was hardly one to speak when it came to dad's foot odour and sock-changing habits.
Tonight, however, his complaints were highly warranted.

Mum had left to visit her sister four days ago, and dad was still wearing the same pair of rotten stink bombs he'd been wearing two days prior to her departure. The stench of them was pungent to the point of making me wanna puke, and the fumes coming out of his big battered work boots had my eyes watering over and squinting from the sheer acridity of it all.





I was unashamedly aroused by other guys' socks and shoes. Considering everything I've already told you, I think it would be hypocritical and downright foolish to try and deny it at this point. I was into stinky socks and was hugely turned on by the prospect of being trussed up and having a smelly shoe planted over my face.

What I experienced that evening though, was anything but fun.
Andrew's reeking socks and running shoes were far beyond my tolerance level. And with dad's sickeningly rotten socks and boots now thrown into the mix, I was genuinely horrified and no longer finding any pleasure in the predicament I was in.




Apparently grossed out by the now nauseating stench that filled the living room, my grimacing brother took note of the fact that the hockey game would soon start, and then darted off toward the washroom in order to take that shower he'd been putting off all afternoon.

Dad spent the next fifteen minutes watching the TV alone and sipping his beer in near-perfect silence. I say "near-perfect", 'cause even though no words were being voiced out of his mouth, the sound of his burps and farts sporadically punctuated the loud sports commentary.


The man could be a bit of a slob even when mum was around, but right now he was enjoying free reign and taking advantage of the lack of opposition. In other words, his usual inhibitions had flown out the window.

As for me, I just lay there; fully strapped down, gagged and losing my mind from the grossness of it all.


"Mmmmggghhpph!" I cried out, struggling like mad against the undefeatable gurney restraints when the fourth or fifth gassy expulsion blasted out of my seated father's beefy rear end.


PRRRRRRRRRRRTTT


When the stench of it finally reached my nostrils, I actually thought I was gonna be sick and quickly found myself practically choking on the overpowering smells assaulting my airways.

The foulest of work boots and the smelliest of running shoes spilt their positively reeking fumes a few inches away from my immobilized head. And as if that wasn't already bad enough, dad was just sitting on the couch, airing his week-old socks out and ripping gas as though he hadn't a single care in the world.


For a while there, I actually thought he'd forgotten about me.

It's only when I broke down into an angry fit and made a big fuss about wanting to be let go that the jumbo-footed fireman tore his gaze away from the TV screen and acknowledged my presence.

"Haha! You still alive down there, sunny-boy?" he laughed, addressing me by my demeaning childhood nickname before chugging down another mouthful of bitter-tasting brew and letting rip another one of his thunderous farts.

I coughed beneath my gag and struggled like crazy to get his attention. But with the hockey game now on the verge of starting, all I got was a playful ruffle on the head before the big man returned his focus to the TV screen and went right back to ignoring me.




A freshly-showered Andrew stepped out of the washroom, and then both he and my dad spent the next two hours watching the hockey game, munching on the pizzas they'd ordered and enjoying each other's company.

At first, I thought being ignored was a curse. But as the game progressed, I eventually found myself loathing the commercial breaks and the momentary glimmers of attention they afforded me.


"I think I like you better this way." dad chuckled, tearing his attention away from the lacklustre TV commercials and bending down to ruffle my hair again.

I growled and glared up at him, but that only made the two seated oafs laugh.

"Yeah, I definitely like him better this way. He's so much quieter! I'm actually thinking of making this a thing." the fireman mused, sharing his thoughts with Andrew in the hopes that it would further spite me.

I cursed beneath my gag and struggled against the medical restraints keeping me pinned down.

"You mean keeping him strapped down like that?" my brother pressed, an unmistakable hint of excitement brewing in his deep voice.

"Yeah, that too. But what I meant was keeping him gagged." the grown man answered, drawing a cheerful chuckle from his eldest son and drawing a muffled protest from my heavily muzzled self.

"Mgggpphh ngh uggmmph!"


"Sounds like he doesn't approve of that." Andrew eagerly remarked.

"Well, that's what duct tape is for. Ain't that right, cutie-boy?" dad heartily shot back, bending down to give my left cheek a taunting pat before pinching my nose shut with those huge, work-calloused fingers of his.

The silencing effect it had on me was immediate. With no air entering my lungs I found myself unable to produce any sort of audible protest. The 43-year-old beefcake-man only prevented me from breathing for a few seconds at a time, but seemed all too happy to repeat the process as soon as my angry protests rose up again.

"Hahaha! What's a matter, kiddo? Cat got your tongue?" he laughed, pinching my nose shut and watching me heave for air, over and over again. A second calloused hand soon joined the fray, this one digging its fingers into my hopelessly strapped down ribs and stomach.


I was understandably surprised and somewhat mildly outraged at the fact that my own father was tormenting me.
Tales of his past exploits and anecdotes of his college-era hazing habits suddenly made sense now.

Dad often went on and on about how he used to be quite the hazer back in the day; something which usually resulted in both Andrew and I rolling our eyes up in mocking disbelief. Alas, we'd obviously dismissed his accounts far too easily.
Dad may have been in his mid-forties, but he apparently was still very much a jock at heart.


Things took an even more unprecedented turn when the grown man suddenly pulled his smothering hand away from my nose and made a move to grab one of Andrew's discarded running shoes.





Wait. What the fuck!? No. No! NO!
"Mmmgghhhh!"


"Hahaha! How d'you like that? Not so tough now eh, buddy-boi?" the Alpha-man teased, hovering the putrid thing's gargantuan maw down over my very much immobilized and heavily tapegagged face.


A series of panicked coughs and garbled choking noises soon filled the room up. The stench coming out of my big brother's size 14 shoe was puke-worthy, and I wanted nothing - and I mean NOTHING - to do with it.

"Mgghh uggh ngh uggmmph!" I screamed, breaking down into an uncontrollable tantrum and twisting my expression up into the most revolted of grimaces.


Poor Andrew's face was beet-red by that point. Not only was I gagging like crazy and squinting my eyes shut from the foulness of the fumes escaping from the inside of his shoe, but dad was actively using it as some sort of makeshift torture device and literally forcing me to sniff it.

"Dad, cut it out. You're gonna fuckin' kill him." the lanky nerd somewhat weakly protested, no doubt enjoying the sight of my demise but also feeling greatly embarrassed by the weaponising of his own footwear. Given the fact that he had no qualms about imposing his socks and shoes on me when the two of us were alone, I found his sudden shame-induced concerns mildly hypocritical.

Dad clearly didn't care though.

"Hahaha! Looks like you've taken after your old man in more ways than just his good looks." he teased, taking a quick whiff of the hairy-legged college nerd's shoe and launching a very audible "PEW WEE!"

The reeking trainer was hovered down over my face one last time before being unceremoniously tossed back down to the floor, about a dozen or so inches away from my immobilised head.


The commercial break ended, and as soon as it did, my father's attention was mercifully torn away from me and returned to the TV screen. Both of my captors spent the next hour airing their massive soles out, Andrew airing his freakishly long and freshly showered bare ones, and dad airing his much broader and positively reeking socked ones.

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

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

really excellent this new chapter me too I want to become their prisoner

This chapter is absolutely amazing!

Ethan must be both enjoying and hating his predicament at the same time. Those rotten socks of his father look fantastic, though and I can;t imagine how Ethan dould not want to sniff them

Such a hot chapter!! The unapologetic manliness of dad, finally having the freedom to fart, burp and not change his socks while his wife is not around. He sure is taking full advantage of that! And those socks look delicious- what is Ethan complaining about?

Definitely would not hate being below that couch

Truly captivated by this latest chapter...Love how Mitch easily joins the ranks of his dominant son and simply partakes in their torture of the younger son....H-O-T! I have to see him use his socked feet on him next...

[mention]bondagefreak[/mention] That chapter was amazing . It turned me on so much . Sniffing the shoes would be a fantasy for me .

So hot, I wish I was at Ethan’s place.
Can’t wait to see how this is going on, I’m so excited for the father being there!

Absolutely loving this story. I really enjoyed Andrew's barely contained excitement at the thought of his dad keeping his brother strapped down and gagged.

I bet Andrew will need to hide some excitement of his own as the night goes on.

Cant wait to see how this story progresses and see what happens when/if the hunky fireman finds out his youngest is gagged with his other son's sock