Skip to main content

Fraternal Bonding

 


“Little bro! Where you at?” Henry’s older brother Josh had just gotten back from some wild frat party, and he was clearly wasted. He was 6′7, captain of the basketball team, and couldn’t hold his liquor worth a damn. It was so bad this time, that he had walked all the way from Sigma Epsilon to Henry’s place. When he got sloshed, he had a tendency to crash on his couch.


“I’m upstairs, Josh!” Henry called out, hearing fumbling and crashes downstairs. He could fell the thumps and knocking of his gigantic sibling sauntering up the stairs, all the way to just outside his door. Two loud bangs echoed on Henry’s door. He rolled his eyes and got up from his homework, unlocking his doorknob. Within seconds, Josh burst through into his room wearing nothing but his blue underwear and grey basketball socks.


“My dudebro, you shoulda been there… It was… So fuckin’ lit… Haven’t been this drunk in weeks.” Henry broke a smirk, and point to the bed, inviting him to lay down. Instead, Josh plopped down onto the hardwood floor, running his hands through his sweaty hair. He continued to slur his mumbling, something about his frat bros needing a new pledge flew right over Henry’s head. Josh patted in front of him, signaling his request for his brother’s audience. Henry obliged, as he always did, and sat crosslegged across from him. Josh was always a hell of a lot of fun, but he was hilarious when he was drunk.


“What were you saying, Josh?” Henry talked to his brother as if he were a toddler. Josh turned to him and started to giggle. That’s when Henry caught the smell: a mixture of beer, whiskey, and the nastiest body odor he’d ever smelled. “Holy shit, Josh. Go bathe! You reek!” Josh kept giggling, and took a gigantic whiff of his socked feet. 


“Whoa lil’ bro. You’re right. These are rank! Here, take a whiff of these bad boys!” Henry confusedly watched as his brother shoved his size 15 feet into his face. The smell was unreal: like super salty butter popcorn… Henry could feel the slick sweat of the fabric on his face, rubbing into his skin. He smacked his brother’s foot out of his face.


“What the fuck, Josh!” Henry was losing patience. Josh was never this bad when he was drunk before. It must’ve been a really big party.


“Here. Take another one.” He forced his foot back into Henry’s face, socks now off, but this time, something was different. The nasty musk was starting to smell… different. Henry took a curious second whiff of the soft feet. Something was definitely different. “Yeah, lil’ bro. Just like that. Smells good, doesn’t it?” Almost involuntarily, Henry nodded affirmatively. “Yeah, lick it, lil’ bro.” Henry obeyed, and ran his tongue over the salty sweet skin. “C’mon bro. Wanna join the Sigmas?”


Henry continued lapping his tongue over Josh’s rank feet, paying no attention to his body beginning to change. Josh’s thick musk began to permeate Henry’s skin, seeping into his muscles. Little by little, they began to inflate like latex balloons. His arms doubled in size, and his shoulders broadened. A shredding noise rang out as his pajama pants ripped under the pressure from Henry’s rapidly bulking legs. His toes burst through the confining socks, growing from size 9 to size 15. Henry kept lapping his tongue over his brother’s musky feet, completely unaware of his own metamorphosis.


Josh began to wipe the sweat off his feet & pits, and rubbed it all over his brother. He was marking his territory: his property. Even when wasted, an alpha knows his beta. His last act as ‘Henry,’ he lifted his brother’s legs into the air, and went straight for his sweaty jock ass. His face sunk deep into the cushioned cheeks, as his tongue penetrated Josh’s slick, musky hole. Josh pressed his brother’s face further into his ass, his formerly curly blonde hair shrinking back into his thickening skull. Josh shot a load into his blue boxer-briefs, just as Henry passed out.


The next morning, Harry awoke in his Sigma Nu frat room, his brothers sticky, smelly briefs and socks adorning his body. Harry laughed and took a big whiff of his gigantic jock feet, his brother’s delicious smell pouring out of them. Josh burst through his door, chipper and dumb as usual.


“Rise and shine, lil’ bro. We got practice in 15. Lace up and let’s go hit the court.” Harry high fived Josh, and slid on his lucky hyperdunks, knowing well that he and Josh would be enjoying eachother’s smells after a sweaty, hard practice.



Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Predestination

  Promising Sunnmore University Ph.D. Candidate Missing Aug. 31, 2006 A promising research student has gone missing as of this past Wednesday from the Sunnmore University campus. Sean McDonough, a Ph. D. candidate studying genetics at the university, left Swampscott Hall at approximately 9:45 PM and did not show up for his office hours the following morning. Campus police state that the incident likely occurred during Wednesday night's freak storm while the University security cameras were down for scheduled maintenance that evening.  McDonough, a native of Providence, has been intimately involved in various secretive genetic studies conducted by Dr. Howard West and Dr. Delia Whateley. Motives remain plentiful behind his disappearance, but local authorities assure the community at large that there is no evidence yet of foul play. Fellow colleague and doctoral candidate Elias Delahaye remembers McDonough as a "brilliant scientist" and "dear friend." --- Carefully...

Cult of Personality

 The blistering New Mexico heat bared down on Douglas' '99 Chevrolet Cavalier. The small blue coupe meandered up I-25, enroute from Las Cruces to Santa Fe. The old man quietly sighed to himself, fruitlessly trying to think of a better pitch to sell his Solar Panels to the rich folks up in Albuquerque. Las Cruces ended up being a bust, just as much as Tucson: the damn things were just too expensive up front. Not that the company gave a single damn, quotas are quotas. Thus, still empty handed, he passed the exit sign for Socorro- still an hour until he'd reach his destination. As he passed the exit, he noticed a bright red glint a bit further up the road. Douglas adjusted his glasses, squinting his eyes to see. He slowed down on the empty highway as the sight became clearer. It was a car. In fact, it was a bright red '67 Mustang; it's owner leaned on the hood as black smoke bellowed from the tailpipe. Douglas looked down at his watch, knowing fully well that he needed...

Musky Leathers

  “Maksym, is that you?” Sam waved at the tall, muscular figure in the black leathers and helmet. Being neighbors for so long, it was inevitable that he and the Ukrainian would either come to blows or strike up a friendship. Fortunately, Maksym was an undeniable, irresistible stud- so to the normally cold and standoffish Samuel might have fallen ever so slightly for the stoic young man.  “Yes,” Maksym replied in his thick, bass-laden accent, “is new leathers for new bike. Cannot wear old, beat up white ones with shiny new black bike.” Though muffled from behind the confines of his black helmet, his commanding voice still bellowed proudly. He stared at his Instagram-model next door neighbor, with a slightly different perspective. Back home in Kyiv, people were proud, stolid, lionhearted. Their flat affect and fearlessness was a cultural expectation, and while he didn’t mind his uppity neighbor per se, it would be more accurate to describe his feelings as mild annoyance. Sure he...