[THIS IS PURELY FICTION. ANY LIKENESSES TO REAL LIFE INDIVIDUALS, NAMES, SITUATIONS, SOCIAL MEDIA ACCOUNTS, ETC. IS STRICTLY COINCIDENTAL]
THE FOOT SLAVE DIARIES - Part 1
Tuesday, April 23rd, 2019:
Hi, okay, dear diary or whatever, my name is Jacob, and I cannot believe what is happening to me right now. If you're reading this, one of two things has occurred: I've either made it out or I've been caught. If I've been caught, I just want to sincerely and thoughouly apologize in advance, Masters, that I have been keeping documentation of what has been happening to me. I did not do it to incriminate anybody, and if law enforcement is reading this, I'm sure I've already made it abundantly clear that every event written about in this diary happened with my full consent, however untrue that may seem based on what you're about to read. And if I made it out, I'm writing these entries as they sleep. I truly expected to be bound somehow, but I guess they figured being locked in an empty (save for my backpack, thouroughly inspected for any means of escape) closet was sufficient. Also, you're probably reading this on an erotica site right now. In that case, I'll back up a bit.
Like I said, my name is Jacob. Jacob Clemens. I'm 19 years old, 5'9", 160, a bit chubby but I wear it well. I have straight, longish black hair, blue eyes, and I'm a Freshman at the University of South Dakota. South Dakota isn't the most homophobic place in the world, but it's certainly not up to 2019's standards. There isn't much of an LGBTQ presence because the gays all tend to migrate across the country to big city schools where they can come out and still not have to tell their grandparents for seven years. But I digress. Luckily, I grew up in Buttfuck, SD, where my high school's graduating class of 37 boasted no less than 13 loud n' proud homophobes, 9 of whom were over 6'3". I wasn't willing to fuck with them, and I wasn't particularly flamboyant to begin with, so I just stayed closeted, telling literally only my parents. I knew they would be okay with it. They're liberal as all hell, so they really love it. I was also pretty shy and probably wouldn't have ever had a girlfriend if I was straight, so I was called gay before I even knew I was gay. I'm also super smart (I had a 4.6 in high school lol), and all smart people are nerds and all nerds are also super gay, clearly. Anyway, I didn't know what to pursue after high school, so I thought I'd take some exploratory classes at the closest four-year college and see what sucked, then transfer to whatever school had the best program for what I wanted to pursue, and live my gay life there. I figured I could make it ONE more year in the closet. What's the worst that could happen, I thought. Obviously, since this is a secret diary about what has been teased to be a very sexy (to the right gay) situation, that's not exactly how I see the future progressing now. A truth I am still processing!
Anyway, nothing that happened in college really mattered until three days ago. I was in BIOL 101, basically a required class, and I sit in the second-to-last row, right in front of three dudebros who have not shut the fuck up all semester. However, I don't give a shit. Why, you may ask? Because this is second semester. And second semester means spring. And spring means frat guys wear sandals. So all semester, I waited patiently for their feet to come out. One fateful April day, April 4th, to be exact, it happened. All THREE of them came to class with sandals on. One with slides and socks, one with Birkenstocks, one with flip-flops. They had achieved the trifecta. And that's exactly what I captioned the post I made of their feet. You see, being a closeted 19-year-old, I had to expell my gayness somewhere. And I love feet. So, I started a Tumblr dedicated to feet when I was 17, and it now had over 13,000 followers. I had always dabbled in photography, and I thought the pictures of mine and (secretly) other's feet always turned out pretty nice. I guess I was also a good curator. I don't know. Doesn't matter. Point is, I had a popular blog and a habit of posting stranger's feet when I saw them out in public, and these three were no exception. There was literally no way they were ever gonna find my fucking foot fetish blog, I thought. That is until a week later, when I was a goddamned fool.
I generally left my phone face up on my desk. I always had it silenced, so it was no biggie. But yesterday, I fucked up. I had been doing a Q&A session on my blog while I did my homework, so I turned on notifications for Tumblr and took my phone off vibrate. After my homework was done, I took a weed edible and kept answering questions, and passed out. I hadn't set an alarm, so I didn't even have time to shower before I left my dorm. No time to shower, and no time to turn my phone back to a setting that wouldn't air out my sexuality AND secret fetish to the entire world. But through some stroke of pure misfortune, or maybe dumb luck if you're me (I'm still not quite sure which), I didn't receive a single notification until three minutes into class, phone facing up and to the left of me, close enough for the row behind me to see. Of course, I have an iPhone 8 Plus, so it's fucking massive. The combination of a soft ding and vibration alert everybody in the class, but it was too soft for anybody to determine a source. Including me. Remember, my phone is usually silent, so I look around like everybody else. But three people in the class can, and do, identify it: the frat boys behind me.
This seems like as good of a time as any to introduce our "heroes". When I say frat boys, I MEAN frat boys. These three ran the premier frat on campus for insane parties and even more insane hazing rumors: Omega Delta Phi. They have never gotten in trouble, probably because the frat was founded by the current President of the frat's father, who is the Vice-Chancellor of the University of South Dakota. That President, of COURSE, was present yesterday. His name (changed for fear of an even harsher punishment if my writing of this diary doesn't have a happy ending) is Chad. Chad was the one in the Birks. Today is no different. He's wearing the same Birks with what might as well be the same khaki shorts, and a light blue button-up tucked into them. Three buttons undone, of course. He's probably 6'2" with an immaculate body. I know this because he's a swimming prodigy with his face (and abs) plastered up and down every building on campus. Plus, the sleeves on his THIN shirt are rolled up so that if you missed his biceps bulging out of his shirt, you could see his perfect forearms in broad daylight. Medium length blond hair, a gorgeous tanned complexion, and stunning blue eyes wrap the package up, and lord it's a beautiful package. To the left of him in my lecture is Louis. Louis is about 6'. He was the one in the socks and slides, and he, too, went with the same footwear (strange, I know. Should've seen it coming). The socks today were blue-and-white Nike Elites, the slides some sort of black Nike slide. He rocked mesh shorts and a Steph Curry jersey on the rest of his body. Louis has an ebony skin tone, with just about the most gorgeous face you've ever seen, and a toned body to top it all off. He wears his hair in short braids, and he plays on the Varsity Tennis team. Oh, yeah, and he's the Vice President of the frat. To Chad's right is Carlos. Carlos stands at 5'10" and serves as the Secretary of the frat. (Go figure, the three kingpins of the biggest frat on campus all saved BIOL 101 for the second semester of their senior year. That's assuming any of them are graduating in four years.) He's also drop dead gorgeous, and is a great player on the football team (I'll leave out position for privacy). By process of elimination, you've probably figured out that he had the flip-flops on. Today, he went with sneakers. Slip-on checkered vans with no socks, so still a win for me. He wore white chino shorts and a black V-neck t-shirt. He looked like the love child of a black rooke and a white pawn, but he was still so hot.
Especially the way that he had been playing with his shoes since my phone went off. Oh God, I thought, he had REALLY been playing with his shoes. And I had REALLY dropped my pencil twice and took a WHILE to find it. Fuck. I had looked around for about six or seven seconds before I realized it was my phone. I had heard a light snicker right as I did it, but I had learned to assume those weren't directed towards me to save myself from going insane. But if they had six or seven seconds, that could've been a snicker for me. The notification had been for an account called Worthless Foot Slave, @faggotfootbitch, and there were a variety of questions on the screen, most prominantly, "how many times have you worshipped a guy's feet," and "what is your favorite part of the foot to have in your mouth?". Pretty damning shit if they read it. Just then, I heard another laugh, this time from two people and louder. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. It's okay, they always fucking laugh, I thought. There's no way they saw my screen. And even if they did, what's gonna happen?
Well OBVIOUSLY they did, so I'll cruise over the boring stuff. Went home, nothing happened, went to all my classes today, nothing happened, got back to my dorm, and opened the door to find Chad and my roommate Arin. Arin, in a slightly confused tone, said, "Hey Jacob, this guy said he wanted to talk to you about, um, the Biology 101 final, in private, and told me that you would tell me why it needed to be private." Oh my God, I thought, there's no way. This HAS to be about the foot shit. Making me lie for him is his sick way of both letting me know that he did see that screen and showing him that I was ashamed of it if I lied to my roommate. Or he wasn't that smart and he just wanted to watch me squirm. Either way, I did it.
"Oh, uh, yeah, we're gonna have to get, like, frogs and shit, its gonna be a mess," I replied hastily and idiotically.
"Why wouldn't you do that in the lab?" Arin asked sensibly.
"Well, it's not a dissection, it's a, uh, creative presentation. We're gonna make a diorama of all the frog parts."
"Fuck, that's gross, and you're right, I don't want to be here. Maybe let me know before you volunteer our dorm as a frog slaughterhouse next time," he said, and slammed the door after grabbing a jacket.
"Good work, faggot," said Chad, with a cocky grin on his face. Awesome, I thought, one slip up one time and this fucking account has gotten my roommate pissed at me and given some homophobe some sort of idea. "If you didn't figure it out already, my boys and I saw your weird fucking Tumblr account yesterday after Louis' genius ass took a picture of your screen. After class, we tried to look at your account, but it was private. So, Carlos made a fake fucking faggot account and requested to follow your's. And it worked almost immediately, you horny fucker. We scrolled through your page, laughed at the pathetic little stories you right about 'straight men obliterating you with their feet'." He said that last part mockingly, in a way that made me turn a shade of red I thought was only possible through extreme sun exposure. "We were gonna just leave it alone, make fun of you behind your back, but then we scrolled a bit farther down." The fucking foot pictures. They had done enough investigative work to find the pictures I took of their feet. My mind was racing, and the slight pause he was leaving felt like a million years. "We found pictures of our fucking. Feet. In. Class. You. Creep. It would be one thing to take these pictures and jerk your faggot cock off to them, but to show them to 13,000 other little faggots? We'll, we talked it over with the whole frat, and we've come to the conclusion that this behavior is unacceptable. So, now that your roommate is long gone, your presence is required at the Omega Delta Phi House."
I felt absolutely helpless as I followed Chad out of my dorm, allowed only to take my backpack, which he went through to ensure I had nothing "that may harm the operations of the organization,". I had no idea what that meant, I was just thankful I would have SOMETHING that belonged to me with me. Chad had taken my phone to ensure there would be no "tampering" with the fraternity on my end. I assured him no such thing would occur, but he didn't seem like he did much listening, to me or in general.
I sat in the back of his car on the way to the house, and the whole time I listened to Chad on speaker phone with Louis. The whole conversation was foreboding, exciting, and terrifying. Louis picked up and immediately Chad said, "I got the faggot!"
"Oh, sick, man! It's just me, Carlos, and Dustin at the house right now, but I'm sure he'll be satisfied," replied Louis, in a tone dripping with sarcasm.
"For sure, bro! Did you fill Dustin in?"
"Fuck yea, man, he's still fucking dying laughing. I think this is gonna be the long-term morale boost we've been looking for."
"Yeah man, just remember: no texts. Snapchat only, and as LITTLE as possible. If somebody screenshots anything, you WATCH them delete it."
"Got it, bro. Omega Delta Phi doesn't get caught."
"And it's gonna stay that way. Dad ignores snitches when nobody else finds evidence."
At this point I had NO idea what they were gonna do to me. Long-term, snitches, Snapchat, it all scared the FUCK out of me. And my dick was as hard as it's ever been.
Louis said, "Of course, Chad. Nothing. No trace. The hidden faggot!" He cracked up at his own horrifying joke.
"Hell yeah, bro. See you in a couple," Chad finished, and hung up the phone. "So, fag, did that convo get you all juiced up?" I was too scared to say anything, not knowing whether he would want me to agree or disagree, or if it mattered, so I just stayed silent. "So we've got a quiet faggot, too? Listen, we'll go over all the rules at the house, but I'll let you in on one now. Speak when you're spoken to, and shut the fuck up when you're not. You've got the shut the fuck up part down, but we might have to work on speak when you're spoken to. Got all that, faggot?"
"Yes sir," I said, voice cracking at the word 'sir'.
"HA. Dumb faggot barely went through puberty. That's better, though."
Just then, we pulled into the driveway of the Omega Delta Phi house. I was so used to seeing this place overrun with cars when passing it on a Friday or Saturday night, when all the Brothers were home for a darty, it was strange to see it with only four. Chad opened his door and told me to "get the fuck out," so I did. I followed him, head hung, through the front door of the house.
"Faggot, welcome to your new home!" Chad said, and my stomach dropped. New home? For how long? I tried to calm myself down, I figured I should wait to freak out until Chad is done explaining those rules he mentioned earlier, at least. The house looked like a frat house. Stairs greet you immediately upon entry, to the right it a HUGE living room/dining room, to the left a kitchen, and a bathroom behind the stairs. There were empty solo cups, beer cans, pizza boxes, and pairs of socks strewn about the living room. As I entered, Carlos, Louis, and who I presume to be Dustin were eating yet another pizza in the living room, watching some action movie. There were three couches and two recliners, all oriented toward the T.V., and four kitchen chairs in front of the entertainment center facing the other seating. Carlos and Dustin are on the same couch, and Louis is reclined in the chair next to them.
Dustin had his bare feet up on the coffee table, and I immediately noticed how dirty they were. Not like he was walking around in mud or anything, just like he'd been barefoot in a dirty house full of ten college boys all day long. Dustin has curly brown hair, is probably 5'10" or 5'11", and has his shirt off to reveal a modestly in-shape body. Not ripped like the three from my Biology lecture, but sexy all the same. Dustin has more hair than any of them, with a healthy amount across his chest and down the middle of his stomach, and he has a closely-trimmed beard to match.
After Chad welcomed me, Dustin chimed in, "So nice to finally meet the creep who posted pictures of my boys' fucking feet!". He laughed, as did the rest of the boys in the house.
"Don't worry fag, we're gonna get you real familiar with them. You won't have to settle for pictures no more!" said Carlos.
Chad immediately replied, "No spoilers, fuckers! We might as well give him the rundown now, he's probably already got an idea of what he'll be doing here." Chad forcefully put his hands on my shoulders and led me to one of the empty chairs facing the boys. He sat me down, then turned around and took a seat in between Carlos and Dustin. Everybody but Chad had the soles of their feet facing me, and the way they were smiling I don't think it was an accident. As my eyes were darting around the room, often pausing on the soles of my gorgeous captors, Chad began his 'rundown':
"Okay faggot, as you know, the Omega Delta Phi leadership found out about your pervy little pictures. Our first instinct was to just beat the absolute piss out of you, but Louis had a better idea." As Chad said this, Louis pointed at me, scrunched his toes, and laughed. "You see, we're known for our hazing. Generations of Brothers have been hazed, but more importantly, they've participated in hazing. You see, we're an extremely exclusive frat, so we only let one to three new Brothers in every year, and those men are always predetermined. Somebody usually knows somebody dope from near their hometown, we do some vetting the year before, and they're as good as in. The point of OUR hazing isn't some communal embarrasment that brings us closer together bullshit. It's to see if, given an opportunity, the new member will readily participate in the hazing. We only want fucking MEN in this frat, and if you'll put a dick in your mouth to get in, we don't want you.
"Anyway, the past two years have been tough. My dad has been having a hard time keeping the administration off our back about all the rumors, and we can't cover up all evidence forever. We also can't silence all snitches, and there are way more of them these days. We were told that a full scale investigation of our fraternity will occur if the administration catches wind of ONE more hazing rumor. So we had to stop last year, and it sucked. We didn't want this to be the legacy we left here when we graduate next year, so we thought we'd start a new tradition."
"Introducing: The House Faggot!" said Louis, and all of them clapped.
Chad continued, "Hell fucking yes. The House Faggot. We thought this out super thoughoughly, so get ready, fag. We figured we could use you to vet candidates. If they're too pussy to humiliate your faggot ass, they're not gonna fit into this frat. But new members aren't recruited until the beginning of the year, and the House Faggot is going to have a lot more duties than that. First and foremost, our feet," Chad lifted his foot and gestured toward it like Vanna White on Wheel of Fortune. "You see, gross foot shit is a staple in our hazing. Almost everybody hates it SO much, and it's always so humiliating for the "pledges"," he said this with a heavily sarcastic tone, "to have our gross toes in their mouths and shit. But then, three years ago, this one guy actually liked it. He popped a boner, and we almost kicked him out. Obviously there are no fags allowed in Omega Delta Phi. But then, a since-graduated Brother told him if he likes feet so much then he should keep on licking. And he said it felt really good. We all tried it for awhile, and all agreed that it felt fucking dope. So, for the next two year, foot shit, or 'foot worship' as you and your Tumblr fags call it, was a daily part of Pledge Week. We would just sit in here and play games or watch movies while we had pledges licking our feet, rubbing them, sucking our toes, getting slapped with feet, gagged with feet. You name it, we did it. It was the part of hazing we all missed the most this year. And the thing that you'll be doing the most. We've got ten guys living here. All in sports, all with full class schedules. We all need to unwind after a long day, and you're going to help us do that. So from now on, we're going to keep your phone for you. You'll get it for 30 monitered minutes everyday. You can call your mom, text your friends, whatever you want. As long as one of us is there to approve of what you're saying You will be shutting down that blog, though. We'll help you script a formal goodbye - can't have those fags thinking anything happened to you - and you'll delete it forever. Since you're gonna like some of this foot shit, there has to be some real punishment for posting our feet."
I was starting to get nervous. I was liking all the foot things I was hearing, but I was only getting bits and pieces of what my actual life would be like. Would I get to go to classes? Would I have a social life? As if he was reading my mind, Chad said,
"Now, onto your new role in general. As the House Faggot, you will be spending most of your free time here. You'll tell people you got an internship that's gonna take up most of your time during the week. The company has set up an apartment that you stay at, since the hours run fairly late due to your school schedule, and the office is 45 minutes away from campus. Any other explaining you can do on your own. Sunday through Thursday, when you're not in class, you're required to be here. We'll need a copy of your class schedule to verify that this is always the case. We will also moniter you grades, and you will be given designated time to study. You fucking this up is the only way we get caught, so you have to live the rest of your life normally. On Fridays and Saturdays, you're free to do as you please. We'll be hosting parties or actually having lives, so we don't really give a shit. Sometimes, your services might be requested for entertainment at said parties. If you're going to be out of town, you will have alerted us at least 72 hours in advance. Otherwise, you will have one hour to get here. I don't care if you're drunk, high, fucking, or all three. You will get here. When that is not the case, like I said, you can do what you want. You can have your phone, but know that by this weekend, another alumni of this frat will have set up a method for monitoring your activity remotely, and we'll have all the footage saved. Just in case you deleted anything you said so we don't see it on our Sunday morning phone inspections. Which you will be reporting to at 10 am sharp on Sundays. Any deviation from that will require special permission. Any questions so far?"
"No, sir," I said feebly, thankful for the freedoms I was being given, but terrified at their extreme limitations.
"Wow, you're not even going to protest any of that? Jesus Christ, man, you are going to make this so easy. I guess I'll explain what happens if you have an attitude change. Obviously, we have so many screenshots of your blog, along with the picture of the notifications on your phone. I also told my dad about this plan, and he LOVES it. So, if you decide that you don't care if the world knows you're a pathetic, foot-licking faggot, he'll get his hands on that GPA of yours. Your advisor is also an ODP alumni, so if things go south he won't be much help in getting you declared in a major. Which, as long as you're the house faggot, you WILL be doing here. Faggots like you don't come around often, so we'll need you for your whole four years. So, just in case you thought this was some pervy dream you could wake up from when it wasn't fun anymore, we've made that a lot more difficult."
When Chad said that, he probably didn't even know the extent to which this felt like that. And the reality that I wasn't going wake up or cum and go to sleep and forget the whole thing was just setting in. Feet and humiliation are going to be the majority of the next three years of my life, I thought. This is a dream and a nightmare. It's easy to want this life for 20 minutes while jerking off, it's another to actually live it with no escape.
Chad laughed at my probably horror-stricken expression, and continued jovially, "Don't sweat it too much fag, your duties will be relieved as soon as we can find another, younger fag for the position. You can train them in for awhile and then go about the rest of your life. You can make that a little side mission for these next few years. Get on some fag apps and start recruiting! Of course, if one doesn't come around, you'll just have to get a job in the area and keep on searching. THAT would actually be great, you could start chipping in on rent! Not like you would have much use for money. But we'll be long gone by then. Luckily, everything that I've just told you is written out in this contract. This'll be some more insurance your fag ass doesn't try to leave, and it'll also make sure future generations of Omega Delta Phi know how to use you and faggots like you. You can read over it if you want, it just says what I've already covered, basically. It also has a more detailed explaination of your duties, if you're curious. If I were you, I would let it be a surprise!" Everybody started laughing, and I began to read over this contract. It goes without saying that this was a room full of business majors, so a contract was one thing they could actually create somewhat competantly.
The document was three pages long, and Chad did not lie when he said that he had covered everything on it. On the last page was a list of duties and requirements, which read:
Duties to be performed by and requirements of the House Faggot are as follows: -Must refer to all superiors* as either Sir or Master, in or out of the Omega Delta Phi house, unless special permission is granted. -Must worship** the feet of any Brother of Omega Delta Phi or any approved guest at any time, besides approved free-time, without discretion. -Must clean any portion of the Omega Delta Phi house, or any property of a resident of the Omega Delta Phi house, as requested. -Must cook or retrieve food for any resident or approved guest of the Omega Delta Phi house. -Must be dressed (or not dressed) in anything requested by a resident or approved guest of the Omega Delta Phi house. -Must perform any humiliating task requested by a resident or approved guest of the Omega Delta Phi house.***
*Superiors are any resident or approved guest of the Omega Delta Phi house **Worshipping is a faggot term that refers to massaging, smelling, and licking of the feet of a superoir ***Tasks will not result in serious injury or death
Below this were five lines for signatures and dates. There were five categories: President, Vice-President, Sectretary, Treasurer (who happened to be Dustin, who would've guessed), and Faggot. The first four lines had already been signed and dated, the line for faggot awaiting my signature. I put the contract on my knee, and shakily signed my name and the date. Chad immediately took the contract from my hand, turned to Carlos, and said, "Great, make like 15 copies of this tomorrow, and put it somewhere safe for the night. Obviously the faggot isn't going to be able to go anywhere anyway, but better safe that sorry."
"For sure, man, I'll run up and stow it away right now," exclaimed Carlos, and he dashed up the stairs to his room.
Chad turned back to me and said, "Okay, queer, I'm gonna give you one hour on your phone, and with me watching, you're going to explain your situation to everybody you need to. Internship starts tomorrow, and we ran late working on our project tonight so we took the operation to my place. Get to explaining!" And that I did. I contacted everybody even slightly important to explain this. I was smart enough to weave a good lie, but it required me to say I was declaring as a History major (since my internship was with a museum I had located about 45 minutes away). It's a strange museum, strictly for scholars, so there could be no visitors if that ever came up. I was annoyed that I now had to major in history, but my story was iron-clad. I talked to my mom for a few minutes, and she was so happy for me. She was glad that her son had finally figured out what he was going to do with his life. In a way, I guess I had. At least the next few years.
After that was done (I was allowed five minutes on Twitter, and of course the ONE foot fetish account I follow got them all laughing at me), my phone was snatched away. Louis said, "Alright gay boy, before you get aquainted with our feet, let's get us aquainted with you. Here's a fun little game we like to play with pledges. It's called a strip introduction! You say a fact about yourself, and remove an article of clothing. Keep going like that until your naked! The facts can be about anything. Pretend this is the first day of class or something. Just say some shit, I don't really care. And an extra little rule for you, if you take your underwear off and you're NOT hard, you can put all your clothes back on. If you are, I think you can put the punishment together."
That made me more nervous than anything else. Not only would I have to slowly show them the body I wasn't particularly proud of, but any shred of anonymity I had before was going to be removed. I figured I was gonna get yelled at for doing both shoes and socks as one article, so that would be four facts right there. They were gonna have that much more ammunition against me, and know that much more about the former life of their new House Faggot.
"What are you waiting for, stand up!" said Louis, and Chad, Dustin, and the recently returned Carlos all shouted their approval. Not one of them had a shirt on, so if the humiliation didn't rock me up, their bodies would have. And it all already had. I was straining against my shorts, and wanted to avoid standing as long as possible in hopes I could get it down. I couldn't, but I managed to get it tucked into my waistband awhile ago, so I would be saved from embarrasment at least until my pants came off. I wasn't tiny, but I wasn't big either, so the head would be covered by my belt.
I stood up and said softly, "I went to Washington High School." I removed my right shoe, and everybody clapped for the second time that night.
"Woo hoo! Can't wait to see that little fag dick!" said Carlos.
Dustin replied, "Oh yeah? Do you wanna be the next House Faggot?" This drew a laugh from the crowd.
"Fuck you bro, you know how funny his dick is gonna look. There's no way a guy who looks like that can have a cool looking dick."
That one hurt a bit. I knew I wasn't hot, but I didn't think I was ugly. I guess to these guys, most men are probably ugly.
"Chill bro, I know. Let's get back to the getting-to-know-you activities," said Dustin, and all heads turned back to me.
I stuttered out, "I, um, I used to be in band," and took my other shoe off.
"Hey, fag, let's save the socks for a minute. Get to the shirt next," said Louis, and the room seemed to agree.
"Yes, sir," I said, "My favorite color is green," I stated and removed my t-shirt. This got a laugh out of everybody.
"Damn, he's flabby as hell!" said Carlos.
Dustin chimed in, "Yea man, you're not even fat. Maybe lay off the jizz and you can slim down a bit." This got another laugh, and I wondered if these boys had ever made a joke that wasn't homophobic.
"Alright, bitch, now the socks," said Chad, making sure this part wouldn't take too long. By the way he kept scrunching his toes he was ready to get to that portion of the night. The thought of that wasn't making it any easier to get soft, and at this point I gave up and resigned myself to being naked for the rest of the night. I had to imagine it wouldn't be an uncommon state of dress in my future.
"I broke my arm falling off a slide when I was six," I said, taking off my right sock, to which Chad replied,
"He was probably trying to look at some other kid's feet and fell off." This got more laughter. I was beginning to understand what my future would be like, realizing how constant this torture would be. I could tell they weren't going to get sick of this, and with ten Brothers at least one of them would probably be bored enough to use me pretty often. My life was going to be this shit. Four years of hazing. My dick started to pound even harder at the thought.
As I took of my left sock I said, "And I had a cast for six months."
"A little cheap, but I'll take it," commented Chad. "Now, make this next fact juicy." The room shouted their approval.
Fuck. I had only two more facts left and I had managed to stay pretty impersonal. I guess since my shorts were coming off next, there was no point in hiding anything. I said, barely audibly, "When I was 13 I jerked off next to my friend at a sleepover after he fell asleep." I started to undo my belt, but was interrupted by Chad,
"We need more than that! I said JUICY."
"I was sniffing his feet, too," I said, somehow even more quietly than before.
"THERE we go. THAT'S the fag shit I was looking for!" said Chad, clearly pleased with himself as he looked around the room for approval of his actions, and the laughter he was met with satisfied him. "Now don't forget the rest of the game! Get those shorts off."
I finished undoing my belt, unbuttoned my pants, slowly unzipped them, and let them fall to the ground. The head of my hard dick was just barely poking through the top of my boxer briefs, and it had created a wet spot on my waistband.
With a laugh, Louis said, "Well, we'll need one more fact to confirm, but I think you lost our little bet, faggot!"
All I wanted was for this fucking strip tease to be over and to get to worship some feet. It'll all be worth it when I get to lick those beautiful soles clean, I reasoned. I didn't wanna let myself forget that these guys were almost doing me a favor. I mean, it wasn't exactly my dream to live the next three plus years as a sexual jester for a rotating cast of immature frat guys, but there would certainly be perks. And I knew my next activity was going to be the best part of the job. So, right after Louis' comment, before I could recieve anymore parameters, I said, "My left leg is a little bit longer than my right," and quickly removed my boxers. The whole living room cheered as I halfheartedly tried to cover my dick and balls with my hands.
Chad, still slowly clapping, stood up and said, "Good job, faggot. I think we all know each other a little bit better now. Time to start tonight's main event. There's a lot of basketball on tonight, and we're gonna be watching it. We've all had pretty long weeks so far, haven't we guys?" Dustin, Carlos, and Louis nodded. Apparently they all had some tough Mondays. Chad continued, "So, to help us relax, you're going to 'worship' our feet the whole time. How does that sound, faggot?"
I decided to ham it up for them. I didn't yet know exactly how much they wanted me to grovel, so I thought I'd turn it up to 11 and scale it back if I had to. "That sounds perfect, Sir. Thank you for the opportunity."
"You're welcome, faggot!" said Chad, and everybody laughed as hard as they had all night. Apparently 11 was the correct level.
Carlos added, "Damn, I already like this more than the fuckin' pledges. Nobody every thanked me for the opportunity before."
Still laughing, Chad said, "Damn straight. Louis, this is the best idea in ODP history."
"Thanks, bro. I'm pretty smart," replied Louis, tapping his temple.
Through all this I was still standing, fully nude, fully erect, in front of all of them. Chad slowly looked at my body with that playful, shit-eating grin and said, "Time to get started!" With this, he flopped back down on the couch, Carlos to the left of him and Dustin to the right. Louis was still reclined in a chair to the left of the couch. Everybody had their feet up, the couch boys' feet on the coffee table and Louis' on the footrest of the chair. I tried to ignore as much of the shame I had about being naked as I could, and started towards two of the eight soles facing me. I chose Louis because this was his idea, and I figured I could just move on down the line after finishing with his feet. My decision was met with no objection, as all four of them were fixated on the Trail Blazers and the Thunder.
When I reached his feet, I sank down to my knees and took them in my hands. They were probably size 10 or 11, soles slightly dirty from being barefoot around the house. They smelled pretty strongly, and I assumed he had been to the gym or something earlier in the day. That's probably true of all their feet, I thought. I started to massage his left foot, which was crossed over his right foot, and took his big toe into my mouth. Louis sighed loudly and said, "FUCK yes. I'm so glad we found this faggot, guys. My feet are so fucking sore from being in the gym today," I had sniffed correctly. I continued to massage his soles and suck on his toes for a few minutes before he removed his foot from my mouth and switched the way his feet were crossed. "Don't forget about the right foot, fruit cake!" I started to rub his other foot and began to take his two biggest toes into my mouth when he suddenly shoved his foot deep into my throat. I gagged loudly, and the boys all cracked up. "Just trying to keep you on your toes, faggot," said Louis.
"More like keep him on YOUR toes!" chimed Dustin.
I ignored their laughter and focused on the task at hand. Ignoring the laughter was going to take some getting used to. While I had fantasized about similar scenarios, it was very different in real life. My face had been flush with embarrassment the entire night, and I even had to fight tears a couple of times. Despite all of this, my cock had been as hard as ever the entire time. I never thought I would get off on embarrassment, but I hadn't touched a foot all night. I had barely been looking at them for fear of additional punishment. Well, I decided, if I was into embarrassment, I might as well embrace it, because it seemed that a lot of my life was going to be pretty humiliating.
Speaking of humiliating, I moved on from Louis' toes and began to lick his soles clean. Sole cleanliness inspections had never been mentioned, but I thought that it couldn't hurt to make them sparkle. Plus, spit makes for a good massage lubricant. After I had given his soles a thourough licking, Louis rubbed them all over my face and said, "You liking it down there, faggot? You like all my fucking foot grime all over your face?"
"Yes sir," I said through his feet. It came out muffled, as his soles were all over my mouth. My face was covered in what was basically mud, created with my spit and his foot dirt.
"Haha, good," replied Louis, "Now, less talking, more licking."
I complied. I sucked his toes and rubbed his soles until I heard the announcers declare the end of the first quarter. At that moment Carlos shouted, "Finally! The quarter is over and there are four of us, so now it's MY turn."
"Nice math, dickhead," said Louis. "Take him." He then pushed my face, harder than expected, toward Carlos. I fell onto my back directly under his outstretched legs.
"Damn, look at stupid dick stickin' up," said Carlos. To accentuate this point, he kicked the bottom of my dick, making it bounce up and down a few times before returning to it's original position. This made me blush, and Carlos promptly moved his feet to my face. "Start licking, faggot!" he said with a stern tone, more serious a tone than any of the boys had taken thusfar, and I began to lick the soles of his feet. Just then, there was a whistle, the T.V. was turned up, and the second quarter had begun. I was again reduced to even less than entertainment. I was a tool. As I thought about this, I picked up his other foot with my hands and began to massage it. Might as well be a good tool, I thought. His feet were about a size nine, neither slender nor wide. He had very smooth soles and short, plump toes. I alternated between licking the soles and sucking the toes of Carlos' left and right foot for awhile. Near the end of the quarter, somebody must have missed a shot or something, because Carlos kicked the side of my face with the foot I had been licking, and he did it pretty hard. He just laughed and said, "Kicking the fag made me feel a little bit better."
"That's what he's here for, man," replied Louis in a humerously sincere fashion, which garnered laughter from the room. Always with the laughter.
I ignored the kick and went back to sucking Carlos' toes. Fresh off of a successful instance of abuse, Carlos decided he would try out another. "Open as wide as you can, freak," he said as he shoved all of his toes into my mouth. This would have been enough, but he kept going. He stuck his foot as far he could down my throat. I could feet his big toe in my throat, and it was moving farther down. I was focusing intensley on breathing through my nose, as gagging would just make it worse. He went until only the tip of his heel was outside of my mouth. By now, all four guys were watching me deepthroat their friends foot with tears streaming down my face, naked and hard. Carlos began to wiggle his toes in my throat, and this was too much for me. I started to gag, and Carlos said, "Alright, fag, we wouldn't want you throwing up. Eating your own vomit sounds a little extreme for the first night." For the first night? Jesus Christ.
"Thank you, sir," I said meekly, my voice raspy from the foot that was recently inside of it.
As everybody laughed, Chad grabbed my head with his feet and pulled me toward him. With everything that had happened, I hadn't even realized halftime had started. Chad said, "Finally, the fag gets a crack at the feet of the President!" he chuckled at this, and covered my face with his dirty size 13's. He had long toes and somewhat wide feet, with soles soft in some parts and a bit rough in others. He began to rub his feet on my face like you would your shoes on a rug. "Tongue out, fag, I've been walking around barefoot all day for this. You have a lot of cleaning to do. They better be SPOTLESS by the time this third quarter hits zero, or your night is going to be even MORE fun than it already has been."
I decided I had been through enough today, and I was going to get his feet to sparkle. I was falling in and out of the moment throughout this whole experience, going from living out a fantasy to worrying about the consequences. But now was the time to commit fully. I was already naked at the feet of four homophobic jocks, about to live in a house with six more. I knew for a fact it was going to get worse than this, but I wanted to ease into it just a little bit more. So, I went to town on his feet. Throughout his worship session, he scrunched his toes on my face multiple times, and I even heard him softly moan once. While I'm sure, in private, they'll all eventually show their physical enjoyment a little bit more, Chad was the first to do so. My strategy was to completely coat one foot - toes, sole, heel and all - and then move to the next one, doing the same while deeply massaging the wet one to clean the dirt. Then, I would switch feet and clean what had been washed from his feet while coating it again. Rinse and repeat. By the end, I was spot-cleaning with my tongue. I was strangely and genuinely proud of my work. Just as I was sucking on his heel for good measure, the third quarter buzzer sounded. Chad wiped his wet soles on my chest before lifting them up to inspect them. "Wow, fag," he said, also strangely and genuinely impressed, "you really did clean my soles. I guess we're saving the punishment for the next time you fuck up. And look at that, you're almost done! Only one guy left. And let me tell you, you're in for a treat."
"Oh my god, dude, I've been looking forward to this all night," said Carlos with excitement in his voice.
I moved my face below Dustin's outstretched legs, and he looked down, laughing, and said, "Yeah, fag, I've sorta always had this reputation for having some disgusting smelling feet. Like, since 7th grade. My feet have always reeked. Rents were broke so I had like two pairs of shoes, and I never did my laundry. At least not my socks. My feet smelled anyway. And there were always one or two fags in the locker room who would sneak peeks at my feet. I never did anything about it, just laughed with my friends when I told them. But now, you get to be the first to get up close and personal with them."
With that, he lowered his bare feet onto my face. He had about size 10 or 11 feet as well, fairly slender with medium length toes, all about the same length. His big toe was cute and round, and he had fairly high arches. Before they even reached my face, I nearly retched from the stench. They were the strongest smellign feet I had ever smelled. They smelled musty, musky, and masculine. When they reached my face, they were warm and slightly slimy, and Dustin took advantage of this by smearing them all over my face. After about 15 seconds of this, he said, "Alright, get to work. I don't expect the smell to go away like the dirt on Chad's feet, but I expect them to feel amazing afterwards."
Louis said, "I'm glad Dustin went last, I wouldn't want any part of me smelling at all like your nasty ass feet."
"Whatever, dude, the fag loves it!" With this, he took his left foot out of my hand and his right foot out of my mouth, covered my face with them, and started to press on it. "See?" he said, and Chad slapped my boner with his foot again. Dustin released me, and I got back to work. This was by far the most tumultuous quarter for my face. I had gathered that the game was close and exciting by the bruises that would be formed on my face with every made 3. Still, I never reacted, only going back to my work on Dustin's deliciously horrendus feet.
The final buzzer sounded, and after the ensuing screaming and foot beating, I figured it was a pretty big shot. Seconds later, Chad kicked me in the side. "Get up, faggot, we gotta get you tucked in for bed so the men can go out and celebrate."
"Yes, sir," I said, and stood up quickly.
"Aw, man, that was fun. Anyway, I think I speak for Carlos and I that we are already fucking blasted and will walk to the bar while y'all take care of this slave situation.
Carlos burped as he finished a beer and said, "You got it bro. Let's go. See ya, bitch!" He stood up, kicked me moderately hard in the balls, laughed, and walked out the door with Louis, both putting on sandals they had near the door.
"See you guys in a few!" said Chad. He then turned his attention to Dustin and said, "Let's show the faggot where he'll be residing."
"Fuck yeah," replied Dustin, and Chad motioned for me to follow them upstairs. I began to walk behind them, but Chad stopped me.
"I don't think you should get to walk. Wouldn't want you too far away from these 'gorgeous feet'," commanded Chad, and I got down on all fours.
"You're right, sir, it was foolish of me to think otherwise. I apologize, sir."
"Alright, fag, whatever, just stay down there," he laughed, and continued up the stairs. At the top of the staircase was a long hallway resembling a hotel, with rooms on either side. My Masters led me to a room at the end of the hallway, opened the door, and motioned for me to come in. "Welcome to you're new home!" The room was a mess, clearly somebody lived in it. The bed was unmade, there were cups and pizza boxes and clothes everywhere. Posters of rappers and movies covered the wall, and there were no less than three bongs scattered throughout the room. "Well, not exactly. More like your front yard. Don't worry, you'll get to clean it up very soon. But for now, we want you to get aquainted with your bedroom." He laughed again and walked toward a closet door. The closet was shockingly completely empty, save for my backpack, which Dustin had picked up along the way and thrown into the closet. "You better appreciate this, because it took a lot of work emptying this closet. I didn't want you to get any sort of ideas about anything in there, be it pervy or escapey, so I cleared it out. That might make cleaning it a bit harder tomorrow, but I know you're up for the challenge."
I didn't like the sound of that. Cleaning is the most unfortunate part of being anybody's foot slave, I had always imagined, but it was innevitable in a house with ten college boys.
"Well, enough waiting. Get your faggot ass in there!" with that, he and Dustin both kicked one side of my ass toward the closet, which actually launched me right into the entryway.
I crawled the rest of the way in, and Chad walked up with Dustin behind him. "Hope you enjoy your stay at Omega Delta Phi!" said Chad, "FYI, the door locks from the outside, so don't bother trying anything. And if you do, and one of us finds out, it will not be good for you in the morning. In fact, your life could be over with the click of a mouse. One email. Don't do anything stupid."
Voice trembling, I built up the courage to ask, "May I please have a blanket, sir?" I immediately regretted it.
"You ungrateful bitch. You don't know it, but you avoided sleeping with four pairs of shoes to be cleaned by morning when you cleaned my feet. And now you want extra commodities? I suppose I could figure something out. Hey, Dustin, get him a nice, heavy towel from the bathroom."
"Oh man, sure thing, bro," said Dustin, and he sauntered off.
"Wouldn't want you to get chilly," said Chad, smiling sweetly at me. Fuck.
Dustin came back in a minute later with a towel in a ball, a shit-eating grin on his face as well. "Here you go fag, you're welcome," he said as he threw the towel on me.
"Thank you, sir," I said as I wrapped myself with the towel to demonstrate my gratitude. I immediately figured out what heavy meant. Dustin had pissed on this towel. The smell had finally gotten to my foot-soaked nostrils, and while not completely wet, there was a large wet spot in the middle, with some scattered on other parts of the towel.
This made them both howl with laughter. Through tears, Chad said, "Night, fag," and closed the closet door. I could hear the custom deadbolt lock. I was officially trapped.
And that pretty much brings us to now. Chad left the light on in his room after spending 25 minutes choosing an outfit from his floor with Dustin. Straight boys are never as straight as they think they are. But I digress. Eventually, my eyes adjusted to the light, and I silently got out a notebook and pen to document this. Like I said in the intro, you're probably either reading this in a police station or on a fetish website, or possibly in a Chancellor's office. I have no idea what's going to happen to me, or how much more humiliating it will be, but it'll all be documented. I've already written for too long now. I have no idea what time it is, but it feels like they could get back at any moment. And I have no idea what more alcohol will influence them to do to the house slave.
Author's note: I wrote about 75% of this story over the course of two days, then lolligagged on the final portion of it. For that reason, I have no idea when a part 2 should be expected. I really like this setup, but from hear on out it has to be action instead of exposition, and that always requires a slightly different mindset to write. But probably sometime before August rolls around I would imagine! Any feedback is appreciated! Other than mean feedback, but if you think you have a legitimate criticism then by all means let me know.