by Mr. Jersey
Mom always used to yell at me.
It wasn’t really my fault that my big brother was too pathetic to stick up for himself. I wouldn’t tease him all the time per se, but certainly enough. He never used to do anything about it, though. Like, how is it that a kid five inches shorter and three years younger can bully the other? Even my father used to quietly think my brother needed to catch up in his roughness.
Needless to say, our relationship changed once he started college. He went to our local tech school downtown and didn’t want to dorm to save money. So he’d come home everyday and be boring and lame like he always was growing up. A few weeks into the semester, right when I started sophomore year at our high school, he told my dad he was going to be rushing some fraternity. My dad encouraged him but was odded-out that someone so quiet and introverted would want to rush. My dad was in a fraternity when he was in college, and knew all about it.
“Jimmy gave me the idea,” Justin told my father.
“Jimmy and you have always been two different people, though.”
“I know, but he said it’d be a lot of fun, and I already met a lot of the brothers. It seems like it’d be a good time.”
My mother was also supportive, convincing my father when Justin was away that it would be good to make him more social. My brother certainly needed that. If it wasn’t for his friend Jimmy, I don’t know how he would’ve survived high school. My only year being in high school with him, he was certainly one of the quieter seniors, always relying on Jimmy, the much more outgoing kid, to take him everywhere.
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It’s been a few weeks since Justin joined Kappa and I’ve already noticed him start to change. He and some of his new friends would come by the house on Saturday’s to play video games and eat chips and shit that my mom would by. I was surprised, somewhat happy for my somewhat dweeb a big brother, but kind of got annoyed. There was my brother, the tall, lanky, 6’3” kid who looked awkward as hell, and all of his obnoxious friends laughing about stupid things, talking about girls they wanted to fuck. They had like, no respect for anything. God forbid my parents were around to hear the shit that they said, they’d probably try to have Justin taken out. Justin would barely say anything, he was like the new kid in training.
Later that week I was sitting at the dinner table alone with Justin. “They’re just my friends alright.”
“Are you sure? You’re not like…how they are.”
He gave me a dirty look, looking down at me. I was only 5’10, enough for him to give me a real “down look” but he never really gave me the eye he did right then. He was always too shy to defend himself toward anything I would. All of a sudden, he’s talking back. I kind of didn’t like it. I told him next time his friends came they should be a little quieter, and more respectful of the house.
“What are you, dad?”
“No…” I started.
“Shut the fuck up!”
I got so, so, so mad. I was about to swing a fist at the dinner table. My parents were in the other room. He saw me eat my anger and leave, and he grimaced like the frat-boy fuck I slowly saw him becoming.
The next weekend came by already. It was Saturday afternoon, a few hours before Justin and his friends would head back downtown to go to a party. They were all playing video games, eating. Justin was a lot more vocal in the group. He was starting to fit in, because he was changing. Shoving chips and popcorn in the mouth, actually making his friends laugh, rather than being the awkwardly quiet one. I actually heard him talking about slamming some girls pussy, I really wanted to vomit.
I walked down through the Den going to the kitchen, I wanted some food myself. Passing my brother and his friends, they’re back to me on the couch playing Call of Duty.
“Hey, it’s your fag ass brother!” One of his friends shouted out.
The rest of them, about 5 or 6, lost it and started laughing. Justin didn’t laugh, he just turned around and smiled knowing how angry it made me. He had a smirk of some sort of victory, where he was now the one to bully me.
“Yeah! Fuck you!” I threw right back at them.
“What a fucking sissy ass voice, I bet he’s gonna suck cock.” The same douchebag said, his friends laughing harder, and even Justin cracking a smirk and chuckle. I took the plate of chips and dip I had just prepared myself and was so close to, I even started the windmill, and heard them all start their “Ohhhhh….”s ready for a showdown.
“DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE.” My brother stood up from the couch. I saw him in his full height, angry, dominant and defensive. I knew this wouldn’t end well for me. I withdrew the plate from being ready to throw it at their fucking faces, turned around and marched back upstairs, slamming my door, hearing them chuckle and laugh to death at my submission. I didn’t have to look at Justin’s face to know the cockiness and smirk he probably had on.
The next day became even weirder. Really weird. Awkward weird. My parents left town for the day to go see some show in the city. They were going to be gone all day, they said. I just did my typical Sunday shit, homework, etc. Justin is usually asleep until 4 PM or so on Sundays, coming home from parties Downtown in the early morning or so. I put a laundry basket together and headed to the washer downstairs, passing through the Den again where the most awkward moment in the relationship with my brother just occur.
They were awkwardly silent about it, but they were incredibly intense as they fucked like animals on the same couch. For a split second I saw my brother ramming this blonde bitch, hunched over, looking like a humongous dude. I completely froze. He turned for a second hearing my motion and opened his eyes and saw me. He pulled out, showing off his incredibly massive dick, so much more massive than I would’ve ever imagined. His eyes and face of shock turned into gritting teeth of total anger. “GET THE FUCK OUT.” He screamed so loud I’d be surprised if my parents Downtown couldn’t hear it. I dropped my laundry bag, terrified, never having seen him like that, and ran back upstairs. The girl was freaking out, like she had never been so humiliated in her life. As I turn and booked it I could see her try to hide her humongous tits with her hands and shrivel sideways. I could even see her try to get her clothes and things.
For the next few minutes I could hear Justin try to convince the girl to stay, that they’ll go somewhere else, that it’ll all be okay, that it won’t be a big deal. I couldn’t make out her high pitched words from being hidden upstairs in my room but I could tell she was way to embarrassed. I soon her a door open and shut. I heard a very, very angry Justin stomp his feet onto the ground. I then heard running upstairs. My heart sank. I thought it was over and he was going to break down my door. Instead, he went into his room, slamming the door behind. I was motionless, to terrified to leave my room for the next twenty minutes or so. It was about that much later when I as quietly as I could left my room to go back downstairs. I was probably going to leave the house to go to a friend’s and leave the very awkward situation. I went to get some things and get my backpack from the den. I noticed it was moved from where I had first put it. I knelt to put some stuff in it before heading out, when I felt a sharp grab on my leg.
A netting with a metal bar, holding me the ground, and rope, held my leg so tight I could feel the circulation cutting off. I had no idea, quickly assumed it to be Justin or one of his friend’s leaving something stupid in the living room. I was knelt between the couch and coffee table, my backpack beside me. I could move a little bit but the weight from the metal bar was so heavy it took too much strength.
I heard the door open and close from the basement. Justin came up to see me as I was. He gave a soft chuckle, not making eye contact. I didn’t speak, so confused, so scared. He grabbed some chips and dip from the kitchen. He was wearing just some boxer briefs, a t-shirt, and socks. He then came into the den, and sat down, my 6’3” brother in full stature, right where I was held, he then pushed my head with his foot toward the table, and used my shoulders as his calf rest. My head was pushed looking toward the TV, looking at my brother’s big feet. Within the moment, he picked up and grabbed my backpack, and threw it down the hallway, all the stuff I had just put in spilling out. I tried to turn around, but he used his socked foot to keep me looking away from him.
“Justin, what are you doing??” I asked, turning around for a moment to see his face, totally unconcerned for my being.
“Shut the fuck up, faggot.” He then brought his legs back and pushed his feet into my face. His white socks were dirty on the soles, they barely fit his big feet. He was a size 14. I could see his full feet and toes through the sock. He pushed my head back, this time his feet on my face. He mashed his feet up and down my nose and face, using it like a massager and rest. I was too shocked to respond effectively. I just heard him munch of his chips. The brief moments my open eyes would catch his face in between the view of his oncoming feet, he wasn’t even looking at me, just at the TV. I was merely a foot mat, effectively lifeless.
His feet kind of smelled. “You’re so annoying.” he told me. At that moment he pulled out from the side of the couch two handcuffs. He bent down toward me and grabbed one arm, and tugged it so he’d handcuff it to a couch leg. He did the same to my other arm, so fast that resistance wasn’t plausible. He pushed the metal bar holding my leg outward toward the TV. I was chained to floor. I was positioned almost in a sprawl, my head to the couch, feet toward the TV, with just a little bit of distance from my face to the bottom of the couch. He sat back down on the couch with his plate of chips. He took off his socks. I knew what was about to happen now, I just couldn’t believe it. His friends had talked about doing this to a girl.
He crossed his bare feet right up against my face. Towering feet that were sweaty and reddened at the soles from sweat. He was still sweaty from his failed fuck. “There’s one way out of this…” he began. “You lick my feet as long as I say.” I swallowed, looking at his face look only at the TV, or what I got of it from looking up and through his toes.
“You wanna fuck up my play with my bitch, fine.” He said. “Now you get to be my bitch….Lick.” He told me. I stuck out my tongue and I cried, licking up my brothers sweaty soles and he flexed them in my face. Even if I didn’t want to, I was motionless on the floor, his feet being my all, prying my mouth open, prying his toes in. It was futile. I spent at least forty-five minutes licking his feet, sucking his toes, and licking in between the toes as he fanned them over my nose and tongue. He played his feet on my face like a drummer or as if I was a gas peddle. To get through it, I tried to close my eyes and imagine him as a girl, but his feet were too sweaty and salty to be like a girl. Better yet I got hot to the idea of a girl doing this to my own. As I got hard to that idea I noticed Justin had taken his cock out, and started to stroke a dick. My side fantasy ended as he forced me to lick thicker and harder to please him as he got off. It was vile to see my brother jack off in front of me, and vile to see him jock off to me bitch licking his feet. He fanned his toes over my held out tongue, bobbing them in and out of my mouth.
“Yeah, lick your brother’s big, sweaty, 14s, you maggot.” He foot dominated me. “You like being a bitch to your sexy, master of a brother.”
“You wish you were me having a slave to lick your feet.”
He exploded. All over his leg, his feet, a little even on my face.
I wasn’t done.
He chuckled, seeing his work and fanning his cum-sprinkled toes on my face. “Lick it off. You don’t finish until you clean up.”
——————————
Needless to say, I was never the same, we were never the same.
Weeks had passed by where he regularly came home and first came to my room. I would kneel before him, as he sat on my own bed, held his sneakers out to me, as I untied and took them off. I would then dig my face in his sweaty soaked socks and tongue-clean them, before tongue-cleaning his bare feet. It became so routine.
One weekend, to ‘reward’ me, he took me to a fraternity party. “Finally,” he’d say as he drove me, “the place you’ve always wondered about.”
We were both dressed nicely. I was to stay beside him the whole time.
Midway through the party we went to changing room, where he gave me made me where a peculiar outfit I cannot quite explain. I basically felt naked. He then dragged me by my collar into the next room, a hall, where I saw all of his same chuckling five friends sat on a ledge. They were all dressed in suits, but had their dress shoes off. The room smelled like sweaty, dressed up, fraternity feet. At their feet, were boys in the same outfit, licking the sheer socks and dress socks of my brothers friends. My brother sat in the open stool, and kicked off his dress shoes. I then saw his massive 14s in dress socks, black dress socks with pinstripes. He just looked at me, “come here.”
Justin’s feet in dress socks after hours in those shoes were simply putrid. His dress socked feet glazed my nose, before planting themselves on my upright face, asking as a rest. The sweat moistened my face. I smelled like Justin’s foot. “Kiss them.” I kissed my brother’s socked feet from underneath as he chatted with his friends.
I could hear the licking of the boys beside me.
