This stories borrows a lot of elements from the Easy Prey series by @bondagefreak so do check out those stories. They are amazing. This shouldn't be considered canon to the main Easy Prey story.
Chapter 1:
Down on your luck, Mitch and his family took you in. They let everything slide: The hazing, the torment, the things you did to Ethan when he hung out with you. After all, you're a family. Mitch even remarked that he could’ve used some hazing tips from you when he was in high school. When you got kicked out of your house, they welcomed you with outstretched arms, and from now on, this was your home. You decided you were going to change your ways, and become an upstanding member of society. Everything’s finally alright. Or so you thought.
As you tried to change, Ethan and Andrew dawdled around in their bedrooms mischievously plotting their revenge after years of forced hazing from you. Andrew didn’t face the brunt of it, he was older, and too busy gaming. But Ethan, Ethan was your favourite victim. You liked how he struggled in your tight bonds, the way his face contorted into a disgusted expression whenever you fished out a pair of usually smelly socks out of the laundry basket to gag his unruly mouth. You loved to make him moan under your feet for hours on end as you hung out with your friend Shane. You didn’t know it, but all those moments you made Ethan endure, was the catalyst for making him a fan of bondage and smelly socks. Because of you, he frequented the TUG site, and chatted with likeminded kinksters, building his portfolio of bondage tying, mouth gagging, and tools for humiliation. You were the one that organized your own demise when you got him into this. Remember that. What happens to you now is all your fault!
Whenever Mitch saw the two together, seemingly getting on with one another and being all chatty, he was flabbergasted, and asked what are they up to. The boys just grinned, and remarked that it was brother bonding.
One day, the day before your birthday, you hung out on the sofa, putting Andrew’s highest score to the test. You thought about inviting him in so you can force him to watch you obliterate his score. That idea made you snicker with excitement.
The two boys, trying to conceal their sly grins, approached you, and asked if you wanted to see your present early. Of course you couldn’t resist it. So idly you went, walking into a trap.
You opened the door of Andrew’s room, and to your surprise there was nothing. Is this all a big joke or something? Where is it? What is –
Andrew came from behind you and clamped his large hand over your mouth, and used his other hand to hold you still. It rested over your shoulder, and pressed it down, forcing you into submission. You make muffled pleas of arrogance, but only pitiful whimpers could escape his goliath fingers. They swallowed your face, and enveloped you with an all-consuming rage.
You thrashed about, trying to escape Andrew’s tall frame that was imposing over you. You nearly succeeded but Ethan got the tape, and began to mummify your legs with the dark sticky substance. He wrapped it up and across, till your feet, and eventually your legs, disappeared into darkness. You couldn’t move your legs, and you collapsed to the floor. Andrew’s palms still covered your mouth and body. With the floor behind your head, you couldn’t move your head out of his grip. Andrew and Ethan swapped places so that Andrew could go to town with the rest of the bonding.
Ethan’s hands were smaller than Andrew’s but for some reason they were sweatier, which made for a far uncomfortable experience. You could feel his palms sliding over your face, and every now and then, Ethan would take his hand off, so you could beg for help. However, every few words, he’d clamp it right down again, leaving you a mumbling mess. Gag on, gag off. He laughed at your pathetic attempts to speak. Your face was red. You looked over to see Andrew casually sniggering as he got the ropes ready.
(Ethan keeping you nice and quiet)
Before he could rope you up, he taped over your hands, and taped your wrists together behind your back. The pressure of lying on your hands was really painful, not that you could ask for help or anything. Eventually, Andrew turned you onto your side, and began to feed twine around your wrists, the rope cutting and constricting on your skin.
Andrew used the rope to attach a rope to your neck and feed it to the rope around your crotch area, and he created a harness as well to pull you around the house like the little pathetic slave you were.
Now it’s time for the main event: your gag.
As you moaned into your handgag, Andrew searched for a fitting material to plug your mouth up. He just wanted to get it over with, so he walked across to his bed, and grabbed underneath for something to shut you up. He ended up fishing out three large socks, two white, and one black. All stinky. Even from a far, Andrew could smell it and he recoiled from the stench. The smell was strong, offensive, and stunk like it was submerged in malt vinegar. This must have been the socks he double layered a few days ago when the weather dropped to freezing. He had an 18 hour shift, and was active for no less than that. In addition to that, he also forgot to change the socks when he got in, and he wore them for a few more days after that till the smell was so rancid, that even from the other side of the room, Mitch could smell it and it was too strong for him even. He ordered Andrew to put the socks in the hamper, but he forgot, and just threw it under his bed for his next shift.
He grabbed 3 of the 4 of them, the other black sock is still stewing under his bed for later. They both knew you wouldn’t open up your mouth, so Andrew used his spare hand to force two of them in. Once they were in your wide mouth, Andrew pressed your jaw up and shut, forcing you to chow down on them and to suck on the hellish flavours. It tasted so rank that every 5 seconds or so, you involuntarily gagged, and you really wanted them out of your mouth. You tried to move your head to the side, to try and get the hand off your mouth. You went rabid, and into a panicked frenzy. The socks were extremely wet and kept oozing foot sweat down your throat. Your tastebuds were drowning in the overpowering taste of salt, vinegar, and sweat. It burned the insides of your mouth, and it stung the little cuts on the roof of your mouth. But they didn’t care. They slapped the tape over your mouth, ruffled your hair a little bit, and the was the end of you mouthing off, but the fun has only just begun.
(Andrew's socks that he double wore)
They ordered you onto your feet, and when you weren’t gagging involuntarily on the putrid taste, you tried to speak, and beg for mercy. They asked you to save it, and that you won’t be getting out. This is payback. When you tried to speak again, they threatened you with the notion of duct taping the other sock under your nose. This made you pipe down.
They made you hobble alongside them, as they forced you into the living room. They sat you down on the sofa and made you wait as Andrew unveiled your surprise. You knew it was going to be something unpleasant, and for the first time today, you were right!
It was the bondage chair that Andrew had gotten from work, and tailored it to suit his restraining needs. It had ropes, and buckets, and leather straps in innumerable places. It looked like the gurney that Hannibal Lector was fastened onto.
You prayed that this was just some hyper realistic dream, and that you’d wake up soon relieved to find out you were right. You were wrong. This is as real as it gets.
You were heaved onto the chair, and restrained within an inch of your life. You have never been so constricted before in your life, and you began to feel heavy. You began to sweat, and the periphery around you began to collapse in on itself. You could hear your own heartbeat, and it thumped constantly. You took heavy breaths, and your eyes widened. You needed out. You spent the next few seconds hyper ventilating, and to his credit, Andrew acted fast.
He knew what to do. You thought he’d notice your fear and let you out. He didn’t. He worked with patients who needed to be restrained, and can treat an issue without letting them free. He reassured you that you were going to be alright, but that this will happen. You deserve it, and even though you feel like hell, you’ll be alright. The smell won’t kill you, although once he’s took off his work boots, you might feel like you’re going to die.
He was right, he took off his boot. It took him longer than usual because the sweat was like an adhesive. Little droplets of foot stink radiated from his boot, getting stronger and stronger the more of it that came off. Your nose curled and shrivelled inwards. Your face turned sickly, and you began to panic and hyperventilate again.
Andrew smirked and clamped his boot over your nose. The smell was the worst thing you’ve ever smelled in your life. It was ripe and sour, and spat out a vinegary overtone that choked you. You wanted to back away, but the restraint forced you still. You were going to ride this out whether you wanted to or not.
Andrew made you breathe through his boot like you would make someone breathe through a paper bag. You think the smell might have fried your senses and calmed you down. It made your eyes water, and you fell into submission. He dropped his boot, and took his other off. Ethan took off his trainers, and they began to rub their smelly feet all over your gagged little face.
(Andrew's work boots)
The smell from Ethan’s white ankle socks were musky and lightly offensive. If you hadn’t had spent ages choking on Andrew’s boot, this smell would’ve been gross. Now it’s like roses.
Andrew’s white socks were starting to turn a dirty yellow and the toe ends which smelled the worse, began to turn blue. His socks stunk of his trademark vinegary stench. After today, this smell has been burnt into your memory. Now you can’t smell a hint of vinegar anywhere without it taking your mind back to these events. It has been burnt into your memory.
The two of them massaged their feet all over your face, spending hours getting their sweet revenge, and you, your just desserts. As they began to take their socks off, a friendly face showed up in the drive: Mitch.
The two boys gulped anxiously, and you thought your freedom was just around the corner. Oh my sweet little idiot, your freedom is so far away, it might be considered a foreign concept at this point…
Chapter Two:
As Mitch walked up the driveway, his smile beaming as bright as the sun, Andrew and Ethan were frozen with confusion and panic. They decided they needed to hide you. Quickly. You screamed into your putrid gag trying to not gag for 10 seconds so you could get your pleas for help out. However, Ethan covered your mouth and forced you to bite down on the rancid wad of foot sweat. Andrew started to haul the gurney and demanded you shut the fuck up or he’ll stuff the other two socks in your mouth, and dump the top of his laundry basket over your face. You carried on trying to scream past Ethan’s handgag, but it was of no use.
Mitch jovially opened the door, and to his surprise, their fear, and your salvation, to see you bound and gagged on this contraption, Ethan’s palms over your mouth, and Andrew frantically scraping the floor trying to move this heavy thing that you were strapped onto. You all froze into position, and looked like something out of a bad sitcom. Mitch broke into fits of laughter. Why would he do that? You thought, your mind itching with confusion. Mitch collapsed onto the sofa. He was drenched in sweat, and you could see the pants of his fire suit dripping with sweat that began to fall onto his sock, and soak all the way down to the toes of his foot. Every movement he made was mired with the sound of squelching inside his monstrous work boots.
In-between his hysterical laughing fits, he asked what was going on? You tried to explain what they did to you, but Ethan pressed harder against your mouth, and stood in front of you, covering your face completely, almost to indicate you weren’t a person in this room, in the conversation whatsoever. Quickly, Andrew came up with the excuse that they found you looking around for Mitch’s motorcycle keys so you could go joyriding, so they had to make sure you’d stay in the house till Mitch got back. You wouldn’t comply and started mouthing off so they had to gag you and make sure you couldn’t leave. Mitch congratulated his son by hugging him, and remarking that he’s a quick thinker, making sure that you couldn’t go and cause mayhem on the streets. Andrew also remarked that Ethan was in on it too, but complied when Andrew told him to stop.
Ethan was taken aback by this and turned to Andrew and began to tell his father that’s he’s lying. Andrew quickly cupped his hand over his mouth, and told Mitch that he’s always like this now that you have come to the house. You turned Ethan into a compulsive liar. Mitch evaluates the situation for a second before looking at Ethan. He tells Ethan that if he took responsibility for what he did, he’d not be experiencing what he is about to experience. Ethan began to mumble into his gag, but Mitch told him to quieten down, and that he should receive the same punishment as you.
Ethan began to protest, but all that escaped was mpghhh sounds. Mitch instructed Andrew to keep him still whilst he looked for materials to tie him up with.
With Mitch out of the room, Andrew told Ethan that he’s killing two birds with one stone because he wants you both out of his hair. Andrew was on his way to becoming a true dominant the likes of Nick.
Mitch came back with a cabal of tape, ropes, leather straps, and handcuffs. He clamped the cuffs onto Ethan, as tight as they can go. They weren’t just any cuffs; they were the pink fluffy kind. Clearly he and his ex-wife were fans of the occasional bondage escapade, and their flirty inclinations, clearly rubbed off onto their sons. When the cuffs were fastened on, Ethan felt so humiliated and defeated. His brother was truly a bully.
Mitch then started to tape his hands like yours, and began to wrap all of the scotch tape around his body, not stopping till the carboard was visible on the ring. He could hardly move. He then roped him into a hogtie and connected the ropes to a belt that had been fastened around his neck as a makeshift collar. He then sat him on the coffee table next to you. You looked each other in the eyes. Ethan had a look of fury; you had a look of revenge. If you couldn’t be released, at least Ethan was joining your ranks.
Ethan needed a gag, and tape on its own won’t do. Andrew knew the perfect thing. He went to his room, and grabbed the two socks that he left under his bed, and double wore them for days on end. They still reeked of vinegar, and the smell was far reaching. His whole room stunk of feet. Of course he didn’t know that. Andrew was nose blind at this point. But to any outsider who came into his room immediately gagged upon the opening of the door. The smell was nothing less than offensive. You could use his socks as a chemical weapon. He picked up the two black socks, and held them far from his face. Even to him, they stunk, and his face already had a green hue from the smell.
He ran downstairs and passed them to Mitch. It made him gag, and to escape the smell, he rammed them deep into Ethan’s mouth. He then formed a bit gag with the rope, and began to encircle his face in black electrical tape. He made sure to tape under his jaw too. Ethan was in hell. You could taste what he was going through. You only had the first layer of socks in mouth, he had the 2nd layer. The layer that was all over his notoriously pungent feet that are renowned for their wetness and smelliness. The thought of it made you feel sick.
(Andrew's socks that Ethan is gagged with)
(Ethan's bit gag)
With the two problems solved, Mitch and Andrew sat on the sofa and admired their handiwork. Andrew was really Mitch’s son, and they both knew it. You could tell Andrew was the favourite.
Mitch turned his attention to you, laughing at your predicament, teasing your gagged state, and laughing at your mumbled responses. Eventually he got tired of it and invited Andrew to watch a movie with him. Whilst the movie played, you could feel the squelching of his smelly socks inside those sweltering boots. You knew that they’d have to come off at some point, and you prayed to god that by the time they do come off, you won’t be gagged.
As the end of the day approached, your spine was on fire from the fastidious bonds that restrained you. Your jaw was tender and on the verge of breaking from the impossible weight of Andrew’s smelly socks that were heavy with his foot sweat that soaked his foot. By now, most of the sweat had been sucked out, but what remained was the aftertaste that was just as bad as the sweat itself. It was bitter, rancid, sour, vinegary, and salty. It took root in your mouth, and you just knew that even if you scraped your mouth with an industrial toothbrush, and gargled enough mouthwash to flood a town, you’d still have the remnants of that disgusting taste in your mouth.
It was now night-time, and Mitch needed to keep an eye on you both to make sure you stayed put till your punishment were over. Him and Andrew carried you and Ethan to Mitch’s bedroom. Both of you were pushed into his closet, and the door was slammed and bolted shut. There was no escaping for you two.
(You and Ethan in the closet)
Both of you began to fight with each other, but you could hardly move or speak so the fight was pathetic. Mitch needed to break you guys up, and keep you apart. He decided he needed to instil submission, so he finally took off those dreaded work boots. They were like a furnace. They burned with his foot stink. They were extremely smelly. What evaporated from his manly boots that stood large enough to accommodate his gargantuan feet was so foul that there wasn’t a word to even describe the smell. You couldn’t describe it clearly, but you picked up tones that proved it was the worst smell alive. These boots were home to a factory that produced blue cheese, malt vinegar, and pickled eggs. Underneath that potent odour, was Mitch’s manly musk that was intense and made you two cough. What was he going to do with those boots?
(Mitch and his boots, smelly socks and soles)
He clamped them onto your faces, and duct taped them on. You couldn’t escape the stench. The heat burnt your face, and the smell melted your nostrils. This was living hell. The weight of this colossal boots forced your heads to the floor like you were bowing to this master of a man.
Mitch dragged you out of the wardrobe and tied you to a chair in his bedroom. You were going to stay there for the night. Ethan was left in the wardrobe. Abandoned, and left to contemplate on what he was supposed to have done.
With no stimulation aside from your fried up nostrils, and sweat saturated taste buds, you had no choice but to stare at the liminal floor for the evening. Eventually, you fell asleep to the relaxing hum of Mitch’s gracefully loud and obnoxious snoring.
(You all bound and gagged in Mitch's bedroom)
When the morning came, Ethan was still left in the closet. But you, you were about to be unveiled as a conversation piece for his work friends to gawk at and humiliate as they hung out for a poker afternoon. You were carried down the stairs still bound in your chair like King Midas, or The Emperor in his new clothes. The two men marched into the living room, and the cheers of these men bounced off the walls. Five men you have never met all suddenly looked you up and down. The five men in question where: Dean, Ricky, Vincent, Jacob, and David. You were in for it now. Talk about a happy birthday.
(Dean)
(Ricky)
(Vincent)
(Jacob)
(David)
Chapter Three:
The chair was placed in the centre of the large living room. You were flanked on all sides by the gang of attractive men. They kept sniggering at you, laughing, cheering, like you were a set piece or a type of artwork, not a human being. Mitch recounted the story of your attempt to steal his motorbike, and you listened to the responding oohs and ahhs from the rowdy men. You just stayed quiet, and you hoped that if you didn’t make a peep or look at anyone, they’d leave you alone. Boy you were wrong!
Mitch then left the room, laughing about how the boys are going to love this. The men waited in anticipation, and out came Mitch a few seconds later. He was carrying a badge and party hat that said, ‘Birthday Boy.’ It was childish and infantile looking, full of glitter, and obviously girly. Mitch stuck the hat atop of your head, pulling on the string so you could hear a SNAP!
Wow that hurt. The string smacked against your neck, and left a slight mark. It throbbed but would die down in a second. The men erupted into cheers as if it were a football game, and you were the score they’ve just been waiting for.
For a laugh, the band of guys all grouped around you. Andrew wasn’t there. He was in front of you, holding a state of the art camera.
The events transpired with Jacob in front of you, holding your jaw, and moving your head up and down, as if you were nodding. Dean and Vincent were standing to your left, they could barely contain their laughter, Ricky was standing behind you making a rude humping gesture. Mitch and David, the oldest of the bunch, were standing to the right of you, doing the same pose that lots of straight men do when holding and photographing fish they’ve caught. This was so humiliating you pondered.
Once the photo was done, they decided to humiliate you some more. They took the boot off your face, and you absorbed as much fresh air as humanly possible. They took off your shoes and Jacob went to town on your toes, tickling them ever so delicately to drive you insane. God this was aggravating you thought. His long fingers went up and down your soles, into each crevasse and crack. Itching away at them and dancing his index finger, like a sadistic menace, around your soles.
To make matters worse, Ricky stood in front of you, asking you questions. When he spoke, you was surprised to hear that he was British. He demanded you reply, but you were too busy laughing. This pissed Ricky off, and he shouted at you to answer him. You supressed your laughter, and replied in the muffled way all gagged people do. He laughed into your face, bits of spit catching on your face, and imitated your gag talk. He was so obnoxious, and from then on, you despised him.
(Ricky looming over you)
They finally tied you onto the coffee table. This was hell, but at least you got to get out that position you were forced into all night.
Mitch assembled all the guys together, and they all slumped into the sofa. Finally a reprieve. Or so you thought. Suddenly, all of the guys took off the shoes, and a massive thud against the ground blasted your eardrum. In the wake of this noise, the worst smell in the world lifted from the floor and flew through the air, filling the oxygen, and mutating it into something horrific. The whole room stunk of smelly feet. Even the guys themselves were repulsed by the smell. It was rancid. Every time you thought it couldn’t get any worse, it did.
Your eyes fluttered around the room, darting up and down, left to right. They were watering from the stench, and your nose turned red. It seeped through your nostrils, frying your lungs, and scorching your chest. You began to gag and retch involuntarily. They all noticed you, and began to prop their feet up onto the coffee table just inches from your face. Two of them, the jokesters of the group: Jacob and Ricky, started making wafting motions and they guided the smell directly to your face. You could see all of the socks they were wearing, apart from David and Jacob, they were sockless. Imagine wearing your work boots everywhere without socks. Actually don’t. It’s enough to turn a skunk green.
Those who were wearing socks, you could see that Andrew had a fresh pair on – finally. They were white and had only minimal discolouration. Dean was wearing some white wool socks that had started to grey and brown. They smelled strong. The heel and the toe part sweated an odour similar to white vinegar, and the rest of the sock oozed cheese. It was truly foul. Vincent was wearing some black work socks that were bathed in his manly musk. Ricky’s socks were the worst. His socks were so black that they had turned silver. You could even see an outline of his foot through the sweat stained cloth. They smelled like they were drowned in pickled eggs that were boiled and marinated in stale malt vinegar. It made you cough into your gag. His foot odour was so strong, it was a medical mystery. What you didn’t know then was that Ricky was a foot master engaging into the findom scene when he wasn’t driving the fire truck around. He got paid to keep his feet smelly, and by Christ, he was great at his job. Mitch’s socks were some white ones that were grabbed from the laundry. They were yellow, and pungent. They smelled like pure Mitch: cheesy, vinegary, and musky. It was truly an off-putting stench to say the least. Jacob’s bare soles radiated a smell like no other. They reeked of a selection of foul cheeses: stilton, bree, blue, and canned cheese that has gone way over the sell by date. If you think all of these were bad, David was the worst. Worse than Ricky even. His feet were offensive, they were raunchy, they were stinkiest feet this side of the world. Nasty was the word that came to mind. They smelled like if Mitch’s feet were left to stew inside a boot unwashed and unopened for years. It was truly toxic.
(Andrew's socks)
(Dean's smelly socks)
(Vincent's smelly socks)
(Ricky's smelly socks)
(Mitch's socks)
All of these guys pressed their soles over your face for what seemed like an eternity. You still have PTSD from when they ripped off your gag to make you lick them clean, but you screamed for them to stop. You hoped they would listen to you. Your punishment had gone on long enough you told them, but they laughed into your face. When you wouldn’t pipe down, they searched for a new gag. There were plenty to choose from and they were lost for choice. But as an immediate response, Mitch convinced David to shove his smelly foot into your mouth to shut you up. He didn’t want to and laughed them off, he’s not the hazing type you thought. But when all of the men started cheering him on, he couldn’t help but oblige them in order to keep the peace. Dean forced your jaw open, and David delicately shoved it in. They were so sweaty that foot just slid right in. It was quick and efficient. You were loud no more. This was the most effective gag you have ever had. His foot was rancid, ripe, and it reeked of disgusting foot sweat. They tasted how they smelled, but worse. It was truly hell. You deserved punishment, but you didn’t deserve this. Because the gag was so good, they elected to keep his foot in your mouth till further notice. Whenever David’s foot got stiff from being in your tight mouth, he just swapped his foot, and he did so for a few hours. You were in effect being fucked in the mouth by David’s putrid soles.
(David's smelly soles)
As the day drew to a close, one by one, the guys left. David was first. Thank god! He left but that left you needing a gag. Dean clamped his meaty palms over your mouth, and Vincent had the bright idea of using one of Ricky’s and one of his socks as a gag. Ricky peeled off his sock. It was so hard to take off. He boasted that he wore this sock for three weeks so he can ship it off to a client in Romania. He was going to get this sock as smelly as possible, ship it to him, and force him to gag himself with it live on skype. This made you gulp. The sock was drenched in sweat. It left a huge puddle and stain on the floor. Vincent’s sock wasn’t as bad, but it was extremely dirty. Dean pried your mouth open, and both socks were thrusted in. Your mouth was sealed up with tape, and that was it for you tonight. You knew you were to be gagged till the morning because Ricky said he’d pick up the sock the next afternoon. This made you tremble. The two men left. Dean followed.
Once all the men had left, and Andrew had went up to game, Mitch said he’d let you out in the morning, and left you to flail around on the coffee table. This was truly the worst birthday ever…
One last thought drifted into your mind before you passed out from the foul taste…Is Ethan still locked inside that closet?....Nobody will ever know.
@Sockgaggedman @bondagefreak @squirrel @socjuc @Red86 @Msueta@2 @Manlyducttape @Stormee @Starcomet @OrdinaryWorld @Pup @Pup_wingletang @Tsuhaya
good lord, they make Phil and Brad seem like angels! Yes, I'm looking at you, Ricky 
