I moved the website to a new host, which I think will be more tolerant of the content this website hosts. Nevertheless, I do want to take a moment to remind everyone that the stories and content posted here MUST follow website rules, as it it not only my policy, but it is the policy of the hosts that permit our website to run on their servers. We WILL continue to enforce the rules, especially critical rules that, if broken, put this sites livelihood in jeapordy.
CHAPTER INDEX
A "CLICK-TO-READ" LIST OF CHAPTERS DESIGNED TO MAKE FINDING SPECIFIC SCENES A LOT EASIER
AN IMPROMPTU FIRST DATE
THE TWINK & THE JOCK
CHAPTER 24 - PREVENTATIVE MEASURES
I wasn’t gone for very long, but as was quickly made evident by the boisterous cacophony emanating from Andrew’s bedroom, the guys had apparently deemed it safe to vacate the living room and return to the site of the blast zone, if only to further torment their ward and marvel at the state of his continued helplessness.
Sammy was still alive, which in itself was something of a minor miracle seeing as how he'd taken one of the Fart King's infamous nukes straight to the face.
Much as I suspected, Brody and the rest of my teammates were once again deep in the throes of torturing their scrawny prisoner. I found the lot of them crouched down around the gurney; their big eager fingers tickling, teasing and probing, occasionally even smothering the poor lad silly by pinching his nostrils shut and cutting off his air supply.
Matt and Chad were unrelenting, but Brody predictably led the assault, bringing one of his own torturously pungent shoes to bear after having spent the last several minutes torturing Sammy with Andrew’s.
The guys collectively cheered when they saw me emerging through the doorway, and though Hunter's eyebrows raised at the sight of me carrying his large bedding, his features bore nary a trace of visible disapproval.
As soon as the outrageously hefty sleeping bag was dropped to the floor and unfurled, multiple hands eagerly reached out to grab it. Within mere seconds, we'd covered Sammy’s gurneyed form up; draping the makeshift comforter atop his heavily strapped frame and smothering his face beneath the monumental layer of immensely strong-smelling loft.
“Yeah, get his little face under there. Yeah, that’s it. Cover it up.†captain Chad commandingly instructed, the preposterously thick bag swishing and swooshing rather noisily as hands and fingers haphazardly rushed to get it in place.
With Sam’s immobile form both concealed and out of sight, I couldn't stop myself from pressing a hand atop the immense loft that covered his stuff-gagged face. Part of me was hoping he would catch on to the poignant smell and come to realise whose bag it was that he was being smothered with. So of course, I silently cheered when my burly captain unknowingly dispelled any doubts Sam might’ve had.
“You better not make a mess under there, boy. Hunter won’t be too happy if you cream his trusty old bag.†the tattooed superhunk warned, pressing a giant hand down into the absurdly generous loft that covered Sam’s erection and causing the mammoth bag to swoosh by purposefully grinding down and rubbing the area.
Everyone chuckled when the creaking of leather and the absolute faintest hints of a muffled whimper met our ears. Unfortunately for our prisoner, that meagre protest only had for effect of inciting several more hands – including my own – to reach down and teasingly press the immense loft over his crotch and face again. Unbeknownst to everyone but myself, Sammy was probably having the time of his life under there. Or at the very least, that’s what I was hoping for.
After a brief parting exchange with Andrew, Sam’s sleeping bag-covered, guney-bound form was effortlessly lifted up and carried over into the neighbouring apartment. Much to my own slight relief and subsequent annoyance, the apartment swap once again went without incident; something our cocksure captain was all too keen to point out and rub in our faces.
Of course, even without my buddy Hunter’s immensely lofty bag smothering his face, Sammy would’ve been truly hard-pressed to draw attention to himself or warn the neighbours. And by that I mean he would’ve been virtually unable to do so.
As previously explained, the enormous stuffer-bulb Andrew had imposed into his yap not only filled his cavity to the brim but reached all the way, almost into the back of his throat! In other words, he was plugged. Completely and utterly plugged.
His eyes were permanently watered over from the omnipresence of a most serious-looking gag reflex, and when Brody wasn’t monopolising all of his attention by clogging his nostrils, forcing him to sniff stuff and threatening to actually sit on his face and fart down his nose - something I'd actually witnessed the brute doing to other guys more than once - Sammy’s entire focus revolved around surviving Andrew’s stuffer. Yes, it really was that big.
Anyways, moving on, it was actually quite late by the time we made it back to the team’s apartment. Still, even though the lot of us were due for a good night’s sleep, the mood was somewhat festive. Beers were popped open and snacks were taken out aplenty as we all plopped down on the leather couch that faced the large living room TV.
With his gurneyed frame now free of the suffocating concealment and the makeshift comforter returned to its permanent position on Hunter's bed, Sammy could only lay there; silent and motionless at the foot of the couch, unable to voice any complaint even as we jostled around and began using his conveniently supine form as an improvised footrest. A footrest for our sneakered soles. All ten of them!
“Guys, look at his face.†Matt suddenly spoke, after glancing away from the TV and motioning for us to do the same. “I think he’s having trouble with his gag.†he noticed, drawing a mixture of subdued snickers and mock-sympathy from the rest of us.
Sammy couldn’t move his head, couldn’t respond, and couldn’t even provide the semblance of a response. He just lay there, motionless, frozen, staring down at his own mouth and appearing stressed beyond measure. The look of sheer distress on his face was apparently enough for Matt - who I should point out was neither known for his benevolence nor his mercy – to momentarily entertain the possibility of pulling the gag out.
Honestly, had it been up to me, I would've probably done so. Having said that, poor Sammy’s kindled hope – if he was even paying attention at all – proved somewhat tragically short-lived.
Captain Chad had other ideas, and much to everyone’s immediate apprehension and ensuing amusement, he was the first to kick his shoes off; setting into motion an unstoppable series of events that Sammy would be hard-pressed to survive and utterly powerless to prevent.
“What’s wrong, little man? Aww, you havin’ trouble with your big sucker gag, eh? Aww, that’s too bad, boy.†the heavily tattooed, buff-bodied superhunk teased. “Here, let’s take his mind off things and give him somethin’ else to think about...†captain Chad suddenly spoke, addressing us with a far more sombre tone as he slowly brought his colossal soles together and very lazily slid both of his ginormous, steaming hot trainers off.
As if being snatched from his own bedroom, bound, gagged, kidnapped...spending hours on end trapped in a reeking gear bag, sucking on a pair of raunchy cumsocks, and then being released and allowed to shower only to once again be wrestled down, gurneyed, gagged, tortured and stinkfaced wasn’t bad enough, poor Sammy was about to endure yet another layer of Hell – the Ninth layer. One that came in the form of Chad’s infernal Bad Boyz.
INTERESTED IN THIS STORY? WANT A FOLLOW-UP CHAPTER? LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS! IF YOU'RE NOT YET REGISTERED, TAKE A MINUTE TO SIGN UP AND JOIN THIS AWESOME COMMUNITY!
Poor Sammy he’s endured so much and it appears his night is about to become even worse. I don’t think Brody will sleep at all he’s having way to much fun
Aww yes!! back to poor Sammy's predicament, i really like the forced sniffing, it adds a nice layer of evilness and playfulness. keep up the good work Sir! can't wait forthe next chapter.
Poor Sammy! My man has been put through the wringer and there is no end in sight! I did love that Matt did try to remove some of the stress of the gag. Really solidified him as my favorite character of this series! Can’t wait to see what hell Chad will lay upon Sammy’s face!
Glad to see many of you still enjoying this - revelling in Sammy's torments while at the same time rooting for his liberation. Such a conflicted bunch you guys are Either way, you'll be glad to know I'm releasing the next chapter (Ch.25 - FOOTREST HELL) early. Will most assuredly be of special interest to our good friends @OrdinaryWorld and @Footsub123.
Also want to give @Footsub and @Hornysub a quick welcome back shoutout.
Was very glad to see your names pop up in my notifications, guys!
@ShadowHusky I don't know whether you're following this or not, but I'm taking the liberty of tagging you here.
I'm pretty sure this tale will be right up your alley. Let me know if I should add you to the tag list.
Was definitely surprised by the gag's size when described in this chapter. No wonder Sammy's having so much trouble, that damn gag nearly reaches the back of his throat!
Very hot picture of Chad's socks/shoes, you were right bondagefreak I am indeed very excited to read the next chapter
I wonder why Chad decided to slip his infamous feet/socks out. Was it done purely to make Sammy suffer more? Does Chad think Sammy could actually enjoy it? Many questions haha
CHAPTER INDEX
A "CLICK-TO-READ" LIST OF CHAPTERS DESIGNED TO MAKE FINDING SPECIFIC SCENES A LOT EASIER
AN IMPROMPTU FIRST DATE
THE TWINK & THE JOCK
CHAPTER 25 - FOOTREST HELL
“Here we go, buddy-boi. Biiig sniffs.†Chad laughed, planting not one but both of his positively gargantuan size 13 soles atop Sam’s face. The eye-watering stench oozing from the maws of his furnace-like trainers was just out of this world bad, but the reek that quickly began permeating the living room as a result of his rotten-as-hell socks was arguably even worse!
We laughed when our captain curled his notoriously offensive, foul-smelling socked digits around Sam’s nose, and then we laughed even harder when the inevitable flaring of nostrils predictably ensued and graced our ears.
“Ah, fuck yeaaah.†the tattooed superhunk purred; his huge toes flexing around and engaging in a triumphant little dance before once again rushing down and completely burying the captive twink’s nasal protrusion.
Surprisingly, or perhaps not, given the size of Andrew’s freakishly fat stuffer, Sammy remained perfectly silent during the full length of his ordeal. The enormous stuffer-gag prevented any lip, be it in the form of laughter, screams, calls for help or verbal communication. The gurneyed twink’s panic and unquestionable revulsion, though silent, manifested itself quite plainly before our eyes. The fact that he immediately went cross-eyed upon getting that first whiff of Chad’s toes was quite telling. The sudden and very angry creaking of leather as he desperately struggled and writhed atop the gurney also was.
Of course, captain Chad genuinely didn't care. The 230-pound super-behemoth merely responded to Sammy's cross-eyed revulsion by resting the back of his head against the leather couch, spreading his tree trunk-sized thighs apart, slipping a hand into the waistband of his own shorts and slowly jerking his own underwear-clad meat off.
'Oh, fuck yeaaah.†he breathed out a second time; a great big tuft of brown hair jutting out rather wildly as he raised his free hand up behind his head - exposing the underside of his tattooed arm along with a downright furious armpit.
Much to Chad's instant dismay and fierce disapproval, mischievous Matt saw an opportunity he couldn't resist and quickly jumped to exploit it; teasingly disrupting our captain's foot-sniff-induced jerk-off moment by aggressively digging two fingers into the tattooed-tyrant's invitingly vulnerable pit.
Chad yelped in surprise but his retribution was swift, not to mention fitting. Matt was as able-bodied as the rest of us and definitely no pushover. Still, the resulting minute-long couch brawl that broke out between him and the captain was predictable in that it quickly saw him get wrestled down and forced into a suffocating headlock.
His protests, though vehement, proved of little use and only resulted in him getting a veritable mouthful of the tattooed tyrant's oversized pit bush. The same giant pit bush he'd teasingly chosen to dig his fingers into just a minute prior.
"Here, fucker. Eat my bush!" Chad triumphantly roared, the sound of his cocky gloating sending the room into a crazed uproar.
"HAHAHA! Serves him right, bro!" Brody heartily cheered, even as Hunter and I held Matt's legs down and laughed at the absurdity of the spectacle. A fitting fate, if ever I'd seen one.
Though the living room had grown thick with the sound of coughs, groans and complaints - most notably as a result of our captain’s disturbingly ripe footwear - Brody and Matt were rather quick to yank their own smelly shoes off, inciting both myself and my stinky-footed star quarterback buddy to also do the same.
I kid you not. Between the five of us, the living room was smelling stronger than a hot bag of vinegar potato chips and was rapidly devolving into the dreaded airs of Cheeseville thanks in no small part to Hunter’s downright nauseating contribution.
I coughed several times over the course of the next minutes; the noticeable stinging of my eyes and the unpleasant tingling in my nose acting as constant incentives for me to keep breathing through my mouth. Poor Sammy, as you've probably figured out, was afforded no such luxury. The huge gag kept his pleas at bay, leaving his undefended nostrils at our complete and utter mercy. Pretty soon all five of us were taking advantage of them; laughing hysterically as our hairy legs converged into chaos and our socked soles – and Matt’s sweaty bare ones – battled for a place atop the prisoner's vaunted little sniff-holes.
The smothering skirmish lasted for what must've been five minutes, by which point my socked toes had successfully been sniffed a plurality of times and panicked choking noises began reluctantly giving some of us pause.
“That gag is too big for him.†Hunter eventually pointed out, beating me to the punch and mirroring Matt’s earlier comment.
“Yeah, might be a good idea to switch it up for something else.†sexy Matt casually suggested, addressing his comment to no one in particular but unconsciously acknowledging the team hierarchy by glancing captain Chad’s way.
“Andrew might not approve of that.†I teasingly reminded, something which caused a highly dismissive “Fuck Andrew!†to be voiced out by Brody and a predictable symphony of hysterical snickers to subsequently erupt.
Our captain, no doubt feeling the weight of impending decision-making resting squarely over his shoulders, scooted forward in his seat and looked down, directly into my teary-eyed stepbrother’s visibly distressed face.
“What d’you say, boi? That gag too big for you?†he asked, to which no answer came. At least, not an audible one.
“Hey! I'm talkin' to you. You want that gag out?†the buff tyrant brute asked, furrowing his brow as if slightly angered by the lack of response.
Still, no answer was voiced. Sammy squinted his teary eyes, curled his feet up and frantically tried moving his hands – both of which were securely strapped down at the wrists – before once again emitting another bout of rather distinctive gagging noises.
“Yeah, he’s fuckin’ choking on it.†Matt plainly remarked, his neutral tone devoid of any amusement while at the same time denoting a glaring absence of genuine sympathy.
Captain Chad watched the scene unfold with little to no trace of discernable compassion before eventually gracing us – and our prisoner – with his decision.
“Alright. I’ll be a bit nicer than usual ‘cause you’re cute.†he started, grabbing Sammy’s little dome by the hair even though the twink’s head was heavily strapped down and completely immobilised. “We’ll take that gag out, but you better stay fuckin’ quiet and open up for whatever alternative we decide to shove in there. If you so much as make a peep or give us any fuckin’ trouble, I swear I’ll shove that thing back down your throat and you’ll be stuck choking on it ‘till tomorrow.†he warned, pointing a large index finger down at my stepbrother’s frozen face.
Chad waited several seconds for his grim threat to sink in before getting up off the couch, signalling Brody to proceed, and letting a thunderous fart rip as he slowly made his way over towards the kitchen fridge.
Hunter, Matt and I watched as beefy Brody promptly rose up from his seat, squatted his behemothic frame down next to the gurney and eagerly got to work. His first order of business was of course to free Sammy’s dome of the immobilising head restraint. Access to the back of the prisoner’s head was needed if the giant stuffer gag was to be removed.
The heavy-duty head straps took the better part of a minute to undo; something which Brody immediately followed up with additional threats and the promise of dire reprisals should he be met with any resistance.
Sammy’s wide-eyed face betrayed nary a hint of defiance as he lay there, the back of his still-gagged but newly unrestrained head nestled into the imposing leviathan's huge hand. The same leviathan who, only a short half-hour ago, had promised to hunt him down and turn him into his very own personal college-bitch.
Satisfied with the genuinely fearful expression made manifest in the young eighteen-year-old's eyes, Brody resumed his task; signalling for Matt to help out by yanking the gurneyed dweeb’s head up while he busily got to work undoing the gag's sturdy buckle. Freedom from Andrew's stuffer would surely be a welcomed reprieve for poor Sammy, but if the rest of the day was anything to go by, his relief was bound to be short-lived.
INTERESTED IN THIS STORY? WANT A FOLLOW-UP CHAPTER? LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS! IF YOU'RE NOT YET REGISTERED, TAKE A MINUTE TO SIGN UP AND JOIN THIS AWESOME COMMUNITY!
Such a hot chapter. The idea of all the guys deciding to follow Chad's lead and kick off their shoes is a delightful image to have in my head, and you wrote it really well!
Sammy might be going from the frying pan to the fire here though, given that his mouth is likely to be stuffed with one of Chad's rank socks.
Fantastic chapter! Unfortunately I could see myself doing the same thing in Matt’s position, though for entirely different reason.. Antagonize Chad by tickling his pit in hopes of him wrestling you to pin you into his pit.
I like that they decided to replace that gag. Despite Andrew’s reasoning, that gag may be more dangerous with how deep it goes into his throat. If he were to throw up, that could easily choke him out…especially if Chad continues to use his face as his royal footrest. Excited for the next chapter!
How is poor Sammy still conscious after all these rank socks cane out in one room. I legitimately feel bad for the poor fella. I'd be worried that not only is that gag to big for him, but also be worried he'd choke if he end up vomiting while gaged due to being force to smell all these feet/socks/shoes. That's a recipe for disaster.
I'm glad they are finally taking pity on him but I also think the night is far from winding down. He'll probably get stuck with a far worse gag before long. These guys are basically relentless!
Ultimate chapter! Love how Matt too fell to Chad's torment, and how the others participated in incapacitating Matt to boot. ultra HOT!
Now poor Sammy, he is so getting overly stimulated/tortured by Chad's socked digits, but now with all jocks removing their shoes, Sammy is getting an added bonus....and now likely a softer stinkier gag dare I suggest?
Liking this group scene and where this is going! Eagerly anticipating what happens next!
This story can be found HERE.
Banner by Bondagefreak
What a great chapter Sir! the bush attack was a nice touch; I could perfectly imagine Chad's bushy and sweaty pit on Matts's face, what a hot sight and not to mention the foot overload, fuck yeah! cant wait to see the next one, keep up the good work!
Poor Sammy, they won't leave him alone for a moment! He just needs some time to collect his thoughts and catch his breath without a sweaty foot or stinky arse in the way!
As for that plug gag my fantasies are saying yes but I expect the realities of actually dealing with it are pretty extreme. I'm sure I would be gagging just like Sammy. Maybe the distractions are necessary...
A pup is for life but especially for bondage so get out the sleepsack and muzzle.