Final chapter everyone! Your continued support has been invaluable, and I am so extremely grateful. You have made this random 16-year-old Australian boy very happy 
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The Taste of a Jock's Socks: Chapter 3
Literally why do you all hate me so much? I have people getting frustrated and all sad over me saying that a 68 ATAR is a bit of a trash score, and okay I suppose that’s a genuine concern for you silly geese. I’ll get OrdinaryWorld to bump it down to a 60. Happy [mention]Socksbound[/mention] [mention]Ossassin[/mention] ?
Also, many of the people on here are CELEBRATING the potential of a mouth stuffing for me?! Not appreciated. Not at all. Please pop down to Woolies and get a sense of basic sympathy for other people, thanks darls xx. Am I THAT dislikeable?
Are there any other character assassinations you would like to do against me?!
Anyway…
Do you know my friend Ethan? I think he’s dealt with some smelly feet before. At least we have something new to bond over…
Lachlan’s god-awful socks touched my face before they both laid flat (Jesus Christ they were longer than my fucking head), and I just wanted to pass away more. A very appropriate word to describe the sensation would be smushed due to their moisture. They
smushed against my poor face, with Lachlan finding it the funniest thing imaginable.
I bet the sicko gets so much pleasure out of tormenting his younger brother like this. In perhaps the most revolting and humiliating way possible.
These fucking socks. They were revolting wet from the recent exercise, and horrifyingly crusty from the dry sweat. Is this Hell? And the fucking smell.
Jesus Christ.
This is so much worse than the boy’s changing rooms after a sweaty PE lesson. Thank god my “scrawny” and “depressingly weak” (Thanks Ethan…) self will never have to deal with THOSE humiliating torture sessions ever again since I dropped it at the end of Year 9. God bless the Australian school system!
Speaking of torture, Lachlan’s socks were slowly rubbed all over my defenceless face while continuing their olfactory assault on my nose and brain. Christ, it was so stuffy, the socks almost felt like they were steaming. He would sometimes raise them ever so slightly to prove that they were so sticky, that they were sticking to my face. I think he did this purely to torment and gross me out further. And it was working. Very well. Too well.
“Fuck you Lachlan,” I spat “I’m so telling Mum about this!” Call me a dobber if you want, but this was a serious and genuine concern to the safety and security of my poor nose, additionally, this entire thing is bullshit, literally every part. Also, I’m a stickler for a sense of justice, and this DEFINITELY felt like an injustice to a VERY high order. There’s a reason I picked Legal Studies as one of my Year 11 subjects! I don’t deserve this treatment, right? Right? Guys? Please?
Lachlan, in all his cocky glory, chuckled, “I wouldn’t be so sure of that, fucker” and he reached down to get something out of his pocket.
Wha-
Oh.
Oh no.
*click*
*click*
“Are you sure you wanna tell Mum? You might become the talk of the school!” He teased as he put his phone back down onto the bed.
FUCK. CHRIST, I CAN’T STAND HIM. On the list of the top 100 things to do in your lifetime, getting blackmailed IS NOT (I repeat, NOT) on there.
I pleaded, very passionately mind you. “Don’t you fucking dare! You wouldn’t!” I furiously and desperately struggled against the rope tying up my body. No progress. “Yeah, you’ll never be getting out of that” Chris mocked, poking my face with his shoe-clad foot.
I lost it. Yep, I know how much you fuckers are loving me digging my own grave so-to-speak, but you know what, I’m an outspoken person who does not like to be unjustly mocked.
“Oh, FUCK OFF, for the LOVE OF GOD!” I cried, yes, I knew the potential consequences but honestly at this point I had lost all fucks give. “You talk too much little guy”, Chris smoothly said, giving Lachlan a glance and a wink. Lachlan laughed again, what was he up?
Chris leaned down, and looked me in the eye and said in a low voice, “I haven’t washed these fuckers in a month, poor bitch,” he said before yanking off his nasty Air Jordans to reveal some UnderArmor tube socks, which were perhaps the nastiest pair of socks I had ever had the displeasure of seeing.
“Oh, shit!” Lachlan, laughed in genuine surprise, waving his hand in front of his nose “That’s BAD!”
Wow, thanks Lachlan I hadn’t realised that. I was, however, happy to know it was bothering him though. That gave me pleasure. A sense of justice.
Chris unceremoniously got his right foot and plonked it over my vulnerable nose. “Here,” he smirked, “Sniff my sweaty toes”
I tried to hold my breath to avoid the inevitable, I really did but I’m not a swimmer or athlete or anything and my lung capacity is utter trash. I think I lasted about 5 seconds, before flaring open my nostrils to welcome the heavy air coming from his sock and toes. Absolutely no amount of preparation or planning could have helped me at that moment. Scratch my comment from before, THIS was hell.
“UGHHHH, FUCKING CHRIST CHRIS GET THAT AWAY FROM ME!” I screamed, genuinely wanting whatever in the fuck was going on with his feet as far away from me as possible.
“Haha,” Chris chuckled, “Smelly, aren’t they? You, little man, get the privilege of washing it for me!”
Nope. Nope. NopenopenopenopenopeNOPE.
“NOOOOOOoooooo”
Chris peeled back his sock, in full view of my eyes so that I could see his simmering foot and the browned and discoloured insides of his sock. You know, maybe I should’ve gone to a friend’s place.
As he finished peeling it off, a teaspoon of lint and other shit fell off onto the carpeted bedroom floor, much to Lachlan and Chris’ amusement. Picking up the sock, he gave me an amused look and remarked, “This is just what has to happen!”
No, Chris, this didn’t have to happen.
The sock, mind you, still smelled as revolting as it did a few minutes ago. Humans developed a sense of smell in order to figure out what was safe to consume, and what was not. Don’t quote me on that one though, I never liked science class.
It seems like this little tidbit of information either was unknown to these complete dunces or was blissfully ignored. Chris ordered me to open my mouth, to which I jolted my head in all manner of directions to avoid the steaming piece of fabric. Using his forceful arms and hands, he centred my head, and in the ultimate act of betrayal, Lachlan got up and pinched my nostrils shut.
I guess blood is NOT thicker than water to him.
And so, my mouth opening just a few millimetres was exploited by Chris and his fucking sock, and it was shoved into my poor mouth: the sole scraping against my tongue. Words cannot describe how fucking FOUL the sock tasted. It was so strong, and so bitter, and so salty. And just thinking about all the bacteria festering within that made it so much worse.
Of course, because those two spawns of Satan (yes, even Chris, as much of a hunk he was) have no sense of sympathy or mercy, Chris grabbed a roll of duct tape that was also in Lachlan’s room for some fucking reason. He ruffled my hair, which made me feel even angrier before I sunk back into submission and panic over the rotten taste of his sock. Lachlan’s ripe old AF1 Nike sneaker was clasped over my nose, which I couldn’t complain about due to the sockgag, and then fastened with rounds and rounds of tape. It had to’ve been around 20 times.
The sneaker was so fucking humid and smelled absolutely RANK, but I had no choice. I had to sniff up all the bacteria and sweat in that godforsaken shoe and just deal with it, like a good boi.
My strategy to distract myself from boring Maths Methods classes by daydreaming about the world didn’t even work! Thanks, brain!
The Netherlands, capital is Amsterdam, I think they had an election recently and the VVD was reelec-
*Sniff*
UGHHHHH
“We’ll be back in a few hours or so until you learn some respect for your superior older brother, have fun fucker” Lachlan snickered before Chris gave me a wink “We have some nicer things for you to sample”
And on that horrifying note, they closed the door and let me writhe on the floor in the damn hogtie, leaving me to cope with the rancid sock and pungent sneaker for literal HOURS.
Scratch what I said way before, this was HELL.
Until next time, fuckers.
