by Reconguy2
My name is Ben and I live with my Dad and younger brother Tyson. Mum left us when we were pretty young, moving overseas with another man so we were never close. To me it's always been just us three.
I'm what you would call a nerd, I don't care for sport and am mostly hanging out in my room playing video games or reading something. I'm the complete opposite of my Dad and brother, they are so into sport it's almost laughable. They're always watching some sort of sport match on TV together at night and on weekends. My brother Tyson takes after my Dad, he might be younger then me but he's almost double my size. Where I am a skinny 5"6', 60kg guy. Tyson is solid built, 6 foot something and weighs probably near double my weight, mostly muscle. He's always going to the gym and out playing sports with his friends.
Dad and Tyson were best friends, they had long conversations with each other, shared beers and went out for drives and outings. I never really got along witg either of them, we never faught but we just didn't have anything in common. So normally when we see each other it's either simple greetings or them asking me to do some something around the house. It was a bit unfair, since Tyson and Dad were always busy or out I always picked up the slack around the house. Cleaning, cooking and doing the laundry were always on the top of my to do list. It was fine for me when we all shared the work but over the years they seemed to do less and less, asking me if I could help out. At first Dad or Tyson would always thank me and ask me to do it politely buy eventually the thankyous stopped. I was just expected to do it all without being told, if Dad didn't have a clean shirt for work or Tyson a clean pair of gym shorts I'd hear it from them. They would sometimes barge into my room without knocking, telling me that they couldn't find this or that and why I wasn't more organised. It was a bit frustrating, but I wanted to keep everyone happy.
One weekend I had to finish a major assignment so didn't have time to complete the laundry. I thought it'd be ok to miss a couple days, there would still be plenty of clean clothes on Monday.
Monday evening I was home in my room reading a book. Tyson was out in the backroom watching some sports match on the TV, just back from the gym and lounging around. At about 7pm I heard Dad arrived home and I went out to greet him.
"Hi Dad, how was work?" I cheerfully asked, helping him take his briefcase.
"Good." Dad grunted, barely looking at me and walked past towards the loungeroom where Tyson was.
"Hey Ty!" He greeted Tyson so cheerfully, it made me cringe. I was so jealous of their relationship, I wanted the same love and affection he showed Tyson. It's what made me work so hard on the chores around the house, hoping Dad would one day notice how much I do for them. I just stood there in the hallway watching the two of them bond, feeling a little upset.
"Yo Dad. Hey you won't fucking believe this game on. Look at the score!" Tyson said excitedly pointing to the screen.
Dad slumped down next to Tyson on the couch and stretched his long legs out placing his huge work shoes on the coffee table. That's another thing Dad and Tyson had in common. Their feet, they were huge. Dad had size 15's and Tyson size 13, massive compared to my puny size 6's. It was kind of embarrassing really, I couldn't understand why I was so small compared to them. Whenever I asked Dad always just told me I must have gotten the girly genes from Mum.
"Ben. Beer." Dad yelled without looking away from the screen. I let out a small sigh, turned around and walked towards the kitchen.
"Hey Benny boy! While you're up there, bring me my protein shake!" Tyson demanded. I hated being called Benny boy and he knew it.
I complied and brought them their drinks handing it to them, neither of them said or word or thanked me. "Dinner is ready guys, if you want to come into the kitchen." I kindly suggested.
"Bring it in here. Ty and I are watching the game." Dad stated.
"Oh ok sure, I guess that's fine Dad." I walked back into the kitchen to get their plates ready. Back in the lounge I could hear Dad and Tyson talking.
"Damn son, these shoes are fucking killing me today. Help your old man out with them." He kindly asked Tyson.
"Ughh what! No way Dad, that's gross." I heard Tyson say as I walked back into the room with their dinner, handing it to them. "Benny boy is up, get him to do it Dad." Tyson said quickly
"Do what?" I asked.
"Help take my work shoes off." Dad said while he started munching on his dinner.
I had never told anyone but I always had a thing for guys feet and Dad and Tyson had the biggest I had ever seen. I would always steal glances at them. During laundry time I would sit there sniffing Dad's black work socks and Tyson's white ankle socks. They both smelt so strong of sweat, but had their own unique scent. Tyson's were sweet and musky while Dad's were more powerful with a sour vinegary stench.
"Oh...uh sure Dad...I can help, no problem." I agreed and walked in front of the table to start unlacing his shoes.
"Oi! You're blocking the TV dickhead!" Tyson shouted.
"Ty." Dad said to calm him down. "Ben, kneel down and do it." Dad suggested to me.
I knelt down low below the table, the position I was in meant my face was a few inches from Dad's shoes. There was an intense heat radiating off them, it distracted me and I just kept my hands on the warm leather, staring at them. I had never been this close to his feet before, my mind was racing.
"Hey! You gonna untie them or just sit there?" Dad asked annoyed.
Shit I thought, he obviously saw me sitting therr staring at them. "Oh...sorry Dad, was just thinking about something."
"Probably not used to seeing feet that big Dad." Tyson suggested with a smirk.
"Hahah" Dad chuckled, rocking his huge shoes side to side, with my hands still on them. "Well these size 15's are pretty big compared to his...what were yours again Ben? 7 or 8?" Dad asked with a smile.
I became embarrassed and my face flushed red. "Uhh...size 6 actually."
Tyson sniggered. "Geez, how the hell are we even related?"
Dad chuckled at Tyson's comments. "Untie my shoes Ben." Dad ordered through a full mouth.
I did as ordered and began to untie Dad's shoe laces, they were double knotted so took a couple minutes. I pulled each side a part to loosen them a little. Dad obviously could feel the difference in pressure and let out a small groan.
"Pull 'em off."
I pulled both huge leather shoes off and was struck by and intense heat and wave of sour stink. It was nauseating being so close but somehow very comforting at the same time.
"Fuck that feels so much better." Dad moaned as he stretched his feet back and forth sending more of his potent stink into my nostrils. They were so close to my face, the view mixed with the intense smell made me dizzy.
"Oh my god Dad!" Tyson began to yell. "Your feet absolutely fucking reek!" Tyson complained putting his fingers to his nose.
"Come on Ty don't exaggerate, they're not that bad." Dad scrunched his socked toes, the stink wafted up into my nostrils. "Ben's right near them and doesn't seem to mind."
"Fuck I don't know what's wrong with him, he either has no sense of smell or hes a fucking weirdo!" Tyson yelled and I realised I should move away to not make it so obvious.
"Why do they stink so bad?" Ty asked.
"I think it's just the socks. Ben didn't do the washing so they're from last Friday." Dad explained.
"Oh so it's your fucking fault Ben! Geez, take Dad's socks off and throw them in the laundry, quick before we all die." Tyson urged.
Dad rolled his eyes a little at Tyson's exaggeration. "You heard him Ben, pull them off and chuck them in the hamper."
I grabbed Dad's socks, they were drenched in sweat. I pulled them off and immediately saw the huge bare soles in front of me. They were so smooth and fleshy pink, I wanted to touch them so badly. Dad stretched his barefeet now free from their confines, spreading his thick toes, I could see the amounts of sweaty lint and dirt in between. The smell wasn't as strong as the socks but more sweet. I sat there staring, not able to move. Those toes stretching back and forth. They started to get closer as Dad seemed to push them towards my face. I got a quick glimpse of Dad's face, he was looking straight at me with a cocky grin. His feet were about to touch my face.
"Ben! What are you waiting for, get those fucking socks out of here!" Tyson yelled. It made me jump up and I snapped out of it. I saw Dad who didn't say a word but smirked at me like he knew something. I walked out quickly to the laundry room and closed the door. I sank down on the floor, socks still in my hand. I brought them to my face and began to inhale deeply. They were still warm, any normal human being would find the smell revolting. I loved it, it smelt of Dad and his powerful masculinity. His big feet produced so much sweat, and it was all encased in the cotton socks pressed to my face. I imagined Dad's feet and how they were stretching right in front of my face. My other hand moved towards my dick and I started to beat off, exploding in seconds at the mix of intense smell and thoughts. I felt so ashamed at what I had just done. I dropped the socks into the hamper and ran straight into my room, not wanting to see Dad or Tyson for the rest of the night.
The next few days were usual as they go, no one mentioned the previous night and Dad didn't say a word to me. The only difference was every night before bed I would beat off in the laundry room sniffing Dad's work socks, thinking about his huge feet. Each time feeling ashamed at my actions.
The weekend arrived and Tyson said he was going to his girlfriend's house both days. He left Saturday morning and wouldn't be back till Sunday night. I had no plans so stayed home in my room most of the day.
Saturday night Dad did his usual routine, running to the gym, working out and running back. I made sure he had his dinner ready before he was home. It was a pretty humid evening so when Dad arrived home he was drenched in sweat.
I came into the front room and greeted him. "Hey Dad, good run?"
"Yeah son. It was great, I cooked up quite a sweat. Could you please bring my dinner into the lounge room? Thanks son." Dad said cheerfully as he walked into the loungeroom and sat on the couch watching TV. Something wasn't right. It was the most Dad had ever spoken to me in years, with such a cheerful tone and calling me son. I shook those thoughts away and decided to enjoy the change, who knows maybe he was just in a good mood. I grabbed Dad's dinner and brought it to him.
"Thanks so much son. Your food always smells good." Dad thanked me.
I smiled so much, finally Dad was showing me some respect. I was thrilled. "No problem Dad, can I get you anything else?"
"Nah I'm good, come sit next to me." He patted the spot where Tyson normally sat. "Watch some TV with me." He smiled.
I was overjoyed. I quickly sat next to Dad before he changed his mind. Watching TV as he began to eat. About 10 minutes later Dad stretched his legs out and dumped his huge size 15 sneakered feet on the coffee table with a loud thud. I froze, those sneakers looked filthy and I could just imagine the amounts of sweat in them from both runs and his gym workout. I started fidgeting in my seat as my crotch began to grow, I tried to hide it by crossing my legs.
Dad finished his meal and placed the plate to the side. "That was great son. Time for me to relax." Dad crossed his feet and let out a sigh.
A few minutes passed and Dad began to slowly shake his sneakers. I couldn't help but stare, I tried to sneak quick glances but didn't know if Dad could see. He lifted one of his sneakers and tried to pry it off with his other foot. He must have tied his laces too tight because he was having a lot of trouble.
"Dammit." He cursed.
"Are you ok Dad?" I asked.
"Yeah, just these damn laces are tied so tight, I can't get them off." He said in frustration.
"Did you need a hand?" I asked.
"Wow son, that would be great. Thanks."
"Sure thing." I said as I leaned forward over the coffee table towards those huge sneakers. I bent down on the coffee table and untied the laces. Dad didn't say anything so I moved back up to sit on the couch.
He started to push his sneakers off, using his opposite foot to pry the other. Something caught my eye as I noticed he wasn't wearing any socks for some reason. There was a wet slurping sound as each sneaker was removed, falling to the floor with a soft thud. His huge feet were glistening from the amount of sweat, I could see red marks and indents where the sneakers were pressed against his soft white feet. I couldn't stop staring and Dad looked over and noticed me.
"Wooh! Look how sweaty they are son!" He motioned towards his big barefeet. I gulped and just kept staring. "Must be because I didn't wear any socks today. Guy at work told me to try it out, said it was much more comfortable. He was right but god, not wearing socks make my feet sweat something fierce." He chuckled, gliding his wet feet across each other.
The smell of dad's feet started filling the room. If I thought his work socks the night before smelt strong I was mistaken. His barefeet weren't just bad, they were putrid, like sour cheese and vinegar. I normally enjoyed the strong smell of dad's work socks and feet but this was a little too much for me to handle. It made me scrunch my nose.
"Fuck!" Dad exclaimrd and looked at me, sniffing the air. "Is it me or do my feet smell more than usual tonight?"
"Ahh...yeah... they're a... little strong..." I said covering my nose a little.
"They reek! Lucky Ty isn't here hey? He'd be freaking out hahah." Dad joked and nudged my arm with his shoulder.
"Ahh...haha...yeah" I sat awkwardly.
"You alright Ben? Is the smell getting a bit too much for you?" Dad asked staring at me, making me a bit uncomfortable. He never normally looked me in the eyes so I wasn't used to it.
"Umm...well..." I didn't want to say anything wrong to upset him since he was being so nice to me all of a sudden. "No...no I'm fine Dad..." I lied.
"What really?" He looked a bit taken back. "Even I think they're bad."
"Well...yeah they are bad...but uhh...you know...not that bad... they're...uhh fine I guess." I stumbled over my words, I couldn't think straight with him staring at me and the strong scent of his feet assaulting my nostrils.
"Haha I see." Dad smirked. "Imagine if I got you to pull my sneakers off though. Like you did the other night with my work shoes, the smell would've knocked you out hehe." He smiled.
"Ah...haha...yeah probably would Dad." I smiled nervously as I remembered the night pulling those huge work shoes off. "Umm...did you want to watch a movie or something?" I tried to change the subject.
Dad ignored my question and kept talking. "Did my work socks smell really bad the other night when you were down at my feet son?" He asked.
"Well...yeah...I guess a little." I weakly said.
"Damn, sorry about that son. You should've said something."
"It's ok Dad. I didn't really mind."
"Yeah? Well it did feel good though, you know, having someone down at my feet again like that..." Dad looked away from me in thought, like he was remembering something.
"Oh." I said, realising what Dad had just said. "What do you mean 'again'?"
"Hmm remember when I was in the football club a few years ago?"
"Yeah..."
"There was volunteer who joined the team, he helped out a bit around the locker room, you know, taping the guys cleats, giving out towels, that sort of stuff. Well one day after a long game, I hurt my lower back and was having trouble taking the tape off my cleats. He was walking past and I asked him if he could help me out. He kindly unlaced my cleats and pulled them off for me. I thanked him and thought he would get up and leave but out of nowhere he started rubbing my feet. I was a bit shocked and I guess he noticed, he apologised and said they looked like they needed it. God it felt good. Not just the massage but the power I felt having a guy down at my big feet. It became a sort of ritual for us, he'd always find me after the game and ask if I needed a hand. He'd help me off with my cleats then give my tired feet a quick rub. I couldn't understand why he did it, my feet obviously smelt pretty bad and I couldn't imagine any other guy wanting to touch them right after a game. I just assumed he was a nice guy. Well one day I felt so relaxed during his massage I kinda dozed off for a few minutes. I woke up and saw him with his face pressed right into my dirty socked foot, what a site that was." Dad shook his head.
I was stunned at the story dad was telling me, it was so hot and I wanted to know more. "Then what happened next?" I asked a little too excitedly as Dad looked over and smiled at me.
"Well, I cleared my throat and he instantly flung his head up in shock. He just looked at me with a pale face as I smiled at him. I don't know what it was but seeing him with his face pressed against my socked foot, sniffing it, made me feel so powerful. I mean what he was doing was fucking disgusting but if he enjoyed the stink I didn't mind, I wasn't the one smelling it. Things changed from that day though, we no longer did our little ritual hidden behind the lockers instead I made him rub my feet in the open around the whole team. There were so many looks the first time but I explained it all to the team, he didn't have to hide his secret anymore, he was a total foot fag. It eventually became his job to be at every game, taking care of the whole team. Let's just say he had at least 10 pairs of rank stinky feet in his face to take care of after every game hahah."
"Wow." I was on the edge if the couch, surprised at the story.
"Yeah that's why it felt good seeing someone down there at my feet again the other night. When you pulled off my shoes, seeing your face so close to my feet, it reminded me exactly of those days."
"Oh...uhh really?" Was all I could say, nervous as hell.
"Yeah, just thinking about someone below me rubbing my...big...tired...sweaty...feet again. It makes me feel so good."
There was a small silence as neither of us said anything for a few minutes. Dad started rubbing his big feet together, making me fidget on the couch.
"Sigh...they haven't been rubbed in years... they're so sore." Dad complained.
I didn't say a word and just pretended to watch TV.
"Ben..." Dad softly said.
I looked over at Dad, he looked at me and nudged his head to the direction of his feet.
"Huh?" I asked.
"Rub my feet, son." Dad ordered.
"I...I don't...I'm not..." I didn't know what to say. Dad just stared at me with a serious stern look, not saying another word.
I gave up my gaze and looked down. Those huge sweaty size 15's were still in my view. Dad saw my gaze and continued rubbing them together, moaning in pain a little.
"Mmmm...Come on son, you want to make me happy don't you? Rub daddy's feet." He said.
I couldn't help it. He was right, I wanted to make him happy. I fell to my knees below the couch and slowly crawled around the table in front of Dad at his huge feet.
The smell was so much stronger up close, it stung my nostrils. I couldn't explain it any other way but it drew me closer somehow, it had a power to it's scent. Dad stopped moving them and placed them both down on the table in front of me, not saying a word. I slowly lifted my small hands and placed them on his big feet. I started rubbing, they were so wet with sweat that my hands glided over them with ease.
"Mmmm...atta boy! Rub my big sweaty feet." He moaned in pleasure.
I did as ordered and kept massaging Dad's soles. They were huge and it took a lot of energy to rub every part of them. The more I rubbed the more they seemed to excrete their potent smell that wafted up to my nose, making it twitch a little. I looked away. Dad must have noticed my reaction.
"They stink bad don't they?" He asked.
I just nodded, with an unhappy look on my face.
"Bring your nose closer." He ordered.
I was shocked at the request. "Uhhh what?" I hesitated and Dad stared straight at me, his eyes piercing through me.
"Lower your face son...now." He ordered with more force.
I slowly lowered my head down until it was a few inches from his feet. I held my breath. Dad spread his toes a part. "Place your nose in there, right between the toes."
I looked up at him with a pleading look. I didn't want to do this. "Pl...please."
"Nose between my toes, now son." Something about his orders were so authoritive that I couldn't deny them. I lowered down and placed my nose right in between his thick rank toes. "Now breathe deep." Dad ordered and I sniffed, letting out small coughs at the potent scent. It was so strong, it smelt cheesey and sweet.
"You like the smell of my dirty toes son?" He asked seriously.
I lifted up and shook my head no.
"Keep sniffing." Dad pushed his foot back against my nose and for whatever reason I kept sniffing in the rank smell.
"That's it boy. Can't believe my son is a fucking foot faggot! I could have had you at my feet all these years!" Dad said aloud talking to himself. "Wait till Ty hears about this."
I froze at Dad's words and looked up. "Please Dad don't."
"Hmmm?"
"Pl.. please don't tell Tyson.." I pleaded.
"Sorry son, I have to, it wouldn't be fair if I didn't. Ty deserves to know that a faggot is living in the house. His feet need worship just as much as mine do."
I cringed closing my eyes, thinking what my younger brother would think when Dad tells him.
"Don't worry, it's just how things have to be from now on." He said so matter of factly.
I couldn't believe how normal he thought this whole situation was. Here I was, my father's flesh and blood, down on my knees with my nose buried in his disgustingly sweaty toes. I imagined how pathetic I must look to him, and what Tyson would think if he saw me in this position. I had to say something.
"...but what will he think of me? He's my little brother, he won't look at me the same." I pleaded to Dad.
"He might be your little brother but he is miles above you. Ty is a real man like me, you're just a fag. We should...no...we DESERVE to have fag's like you grovelling at our feet." He wiggled his toes against my nose letting out more of his toe stink. I winced at the smell again and it made him chuckle. "Hehe don't worry, you'll get used to the smell son, I'll make sure of that."
"But..." I kept protesting, my mind was confused, fighting against myself. "I'm not a fag." I resisted.
Dad pulled his feet back from my face, giving me a chance to breathe fresh air, he looked straight at me with a concerned face. "Son...have you not noticed Ty and I don't lift a finger around here. Over the years I've gotten you to do almost everything for us and you just accepted it without protest. You wash our dirty clothes, cook for us and clean the whole house including the toilet we piss and take dumps in. You just sniffed the disgusting sweat and dirt between my toes for god's sake. You were born to serve us son, it's your role in life. You're a fag, accept it."
I listened to Dad's words as I glanced down at the huge soles in front of me. He was right, I did everything around the house and I never complained to either of them once. I did it because I wanted Dad's attention and now I had it. This was the most attention Dad had ever paid me, granted it wasn't the way in which I would have hoped but it was attention I craved none the less. I looked up at Dad who smiled at me. That smile almost brought me to tears, I longed for more of it. I knew what I had to do. I lowered my head and began to kiss the soles of my Dad's feet repeatedly.
"That's it boy." Dad's smile disappeared. "This is your place in life now faggot. You belong below me, under my big sweaty feet." He said sternly as he started wiping his huge soles all over my face. I was so dazed from the smell and sweat being smeared over my face, I was light headed.
"Yes...sir." I weakly replied.
"Fucking faggot."
To Be Continued...
