Serving the Gentlemen’s Club
A Smelly Discovery
The rest of the week continued to be one of frustration and stress for Ron, and added to that confusion and disgust with the discovery of his sudden addiction. For the first few days, he tried to stay in denial of it. How could an educated, respectable, successful and healthy married man like him suddenly crave for nasty foot smell like some lowly depraved drug addict trash? He tried to reason with himself, but to no avail. The persistent and growing mental itches, headaches, frustrations, which were all reinforced and compounded by the daily conditionings that Ron continued to put himself through unknowingly during every train ride, have pushed him onto the edge of insanity.
Friday night came and the successful executive felt like he was now on the verge of a mental breakdown. He rushed home, avoided his concerned wife by saying that he had a tough day and wanted to take a warm bath to relax, and quickly ducked into the bathroom. He was honestly wanting to have a long hot shower and bath, in hopes that it will help relieve torturous buzzing in his head. However, as he stripped out of his shirt and pants, Ron caught sight of his own navy blue dress socks and the unthinkable idea floated into his mind: “Maybe a sniff, just a quick sniff, will help ease the stress...?”
He sat on the ledge of the bathtub while his mind wrestled for a few moments between his rational conscience and the subconscious cravings. However, in his desperate state of mind, it was a quick losing battle for his all-ethical conscious mind; the subconscious mental reconditioning had taken a strong hold by now and was dragging all of Ron’s mind to where it wants him to be, without allowing even an inch of resistance against it.
It made no sense and should be repulsive to any sane person, but Ron has reached the breaking point and he wasn’t totally aware rationally of what he was doing. Perhaps it was also a bit of a mental blockage to shield his conscious mind from this abuse. His breathing and pulse increased as he hesitantly lifted his right foot to rest on his left thigh. “This is so wrong...it just doesn’t make any sense....this is nasty...", Ron tried to tell himself as if trying to hang on to his last string of sanity, but at the same time, his head continued to lower itself steadily towards his foot. Despite his disgust, his face was one of anticipation and desperation, like a depraved addict, eyes wide but blank, intently focused only on the object of his addiction, like the world around him was melting away.
As soon as his nose made contact with the sole of his foot, the desperate executive inhaled the now-precious foot funk. Upon his first breath, the craving eased a slight bit, but as he continued to suck in more of his own foot stink, he couldn’t seem to feel any further relief. It confused Ron; it’s just foot smell like any other, but somehow he couldn’t get the same immediate effect as with that kid’s foot the other night on the train! Desperate to sooth his unwanted need, Ron tried in vain again with ridiculous effort to vacuum up the smell from his own foot in hopes of washing away the painful cravings in his mind. He tried both feet, from heel to in between every toe, all with no significant success. His mind knows that it is the smell that he needs, but for some reason, the cravings just wouldn’t ease away!
Frustrated, he finally gave up and surrendered to the fact that this was not going to work. He wrapped his hands around his head and cursed under his breath thinking about what’s happened to him. He couldn’t put away the suspicion that this strange behaviour must have something to do with that quiet young man on the train...but how? He couldn’t just make Ron suddenly crave for feet...it made no sense (reality is his programming has put certain mental blocks and ‘clues’ into his mind to lead him in the ‘right’ direction so he can come to the realization of his situation through a gradual and controlled process).
Giving up on his attempts, Ron decided that a hot shower was the best he could do for now to comfort himself a bit. As he tossed his clothes into the hamper, he caught sight of his wife’s dirty clothes...and a pair of socks. He gingerly and guiltily grabbed those cute ladies ankle socks and hesitantly brought them up to his nose for a quick whiff. However, the reaction was not what Ron had hoped; he instantly winced and gagged in disgust by instinct as soon as he registered the odour of the female perspiration, and immediately threw the garments back into the laundry bin. It would have been the expected normal reaction for Ron “back in time”, but at the present time, this was not what he wanted. He quickly realized that the female foot odour did not have any effect on his newfound addiction. He finally gave up on trying to understand, now even more frustrated, and just jumped right into the running hot shower.
On Saturday, Ron decided to skip golf and go for a bike ride instead, just so he could have some peace of mind to himself. The headaches and cravings were still driving him crazy every moment, but he tried to ignore those as much as he could. When he came home later in the day, he found the house to be deserted. A slight relief for Ron, since he could avoid interacting with his wife and son and he didn’t want to spill his frustration onto them (even he could never bring himself to tell them about his problem).
Hot and sweaty from the exercise, Ron went up to his bathroom to clean up. However, as he walked by his son’s, Chris, room, something caught his attention, stopping him in his tracks: his son’s sports bag. Chris is an athletic young man, he is on the track team and also likes to play soccer on the side. Ron saw his son’s bag laid open on the floor of his room, and he could see the workout clothes and soccer gear inside, but also his boy’s size 11 running shoes and soccer cleats. He knew that his son usually has practice on Saturday mornings, so he must have dropped his bag earlier today after training and went out again.
It was as if his nose immediately wanted to drag him towards the bag of sweaty gear out of primal instinct, but his conscience held him back on the spot, caught in the dilemma: this is so shameful and disgusting on every level imaginable, but yet, his mind is screaming for the need. Ron already knew that his own foot smell wouldn’t do the trick for him, so this would be his only “cure” right now, as ridiculous as it sounds.
The confused man stood frozen outside his son’s room for a few moments, mentally struggling fiercely between his quickly-losing conscious mind and ever-growing addiction. His eyes never left the sight of the sports bag, his breathing increasing. Ultimately, his rational mind ‘lost’ the battle, though he reasoned himself to maybe just try a quick whiff, just to test if it would have the same effect...just a quick sniff and he would put them back.
Ron turned his steps cautiously and nervously towards Chris’ room, eyes preying on that bag of sweaty clothes. His lips went dry as he swallowed hard and his breathing quickened in anticipation. He felt like a thief sneaking into his son’s room, but his desperation to satisfy his cravings overrode all of his ethical constraints at the moment. As he neared the large duffel bag, Ron could see a pair of white socks stuffed in those running shoes, and his son’s blue soccer socks were similarly stuffed in his dirty cleats. His subconscious instincts immediately realized he has found the jackpot, and all of the last remaining mental barriers holding back his desires crumbled down. He quickly knelt down, dug right into the sneakers and grabbed those scrunched up socks from the shoes, and stuffed them with urgency onto his face. That first breath was pure ecstasy for Ron, a sense of extreme relief and pleasure that the executive had not experienced before. He could still feel some dampness of sweat on the socks from his son’s strenuous workout in the morning. As he inhaled more of the putrid scent of his own boy’s sweaty socks, Ron could feel all of that pent up stress, headache from his cravings immediately fading away, but at the same time, the smell also provided him a pleasant euphoric sensation that had him hungry for more. Before he could realize, one of his hands found its way down to the soccer cleats and grabbed those wet football socks up to his face as well. And so the vicious circle of evil desires was triggered as the once composed, clean cut and respectable executive was now kneeling in his son’s room, desperately sniffing away at his dirty sweaty socks and craving for more. Having been battered by the unsettled feelings for several weeks, this sudden intense pleasant feeling was an immense relief and Ron’s already reprogrammed and weakened mind was simply in no position to fight back the strange reality that he has been put into.
The world had faded around him and Ron didn’t know how long he had been breathing away at his son’s foot stink until he heard the front door of the house open. He was jolted out from his stupor and he pulled his face away from the bunched up socks. It took him a few seconds to come back to his senses and realized what he was doing, after which the shock and fear set in. Thankfully, his now-relieved mind had been able to regain some self-control, so he hurriedly stuffed the socks back into Chris’ shoes and dashed quietly into his bathroom, hoping he wasn’t caught.
When he regained some more sense of his conscience, Ron cursed himself for perverting himself over those nasty sweaty socks, and the worst of it all, he was getting a high from perving off his own son’s socks! It felt terribly wrong and shameful in every way, but deep down, he couldn’t dismiss the fact that those stinky socks did got rid of those horribly nagging cravings from his mind and he could feel some peace again. Although that didn’t last very long, by night time, the cravings have surged again, throwing Ron back into the same nervous wreck again. He tried fighting off the urge to get to his boy’s socks again (he couldn’t anyway as Chris was already asleep in his room), but the torturous mental assault was seemingly back with an even slightly stronger fervour and it was quickly eroding his self-control, dragging the once-distinguished businessman into becoming a depraved sock addict. He tried hard, but he knew it was already becoming a losing battle. When his wife was asleep, he quietly snuck out of their room, down to the front entrance foyer. The inconspicuous shoe cabinet for Ron has now suddenly become like the shelf of a candy store to a kid. The hungry man discreetly and meticulously went through every shoe of his boy in the cabinet, sniffing out each of them to find the smelliest, but also to help feed off his craving along the way. Dress shoes, sandals, boots, runners, etc..., not a pair was left out as Ron plunged his nose as deep as he could in each shoe to inhale every bit of odour from his son’s foot. Finally, he settled on a worn-out pair of black Vans. Chris had those for close to ten years and they were one of his favourites. He wore them often when he was out for casual strolls or hanging out with friends, and he’d regularly go out in them sockless as well. As a result, they were particularly rank, which have now become a perverted delight to his dad, in his current ‘reoriented’ state of mind. Ron spent a good twenty minutes in the dark foyer breathing away deeply in those putrid Vans, before his own conscious sense slowly resurfaced again enough to finally pull his nose out of those shoes, satisfied that his latest round of craving has been fulfilled, but at the same time feeling defeated at being turned into a disgusting pervert. He still haven’t figured out who or why was he being forced to do such nasty things, although every time he tried to work out the mystery in his mind, there seems to be a faraway voice at the back of his mind telling him not to think about it. So Ron quickly put that thought away, returned Chris’ Vans back into the closet, and went to bed.
Monday came and went by as usual. Ron got up and ready for work, the craving for foot now seemingly always sitting at the back of his mind, persistently nagging him and tickling his brain. It was driving him insane with crave and frustration, but also shame and guilt at the same time. Yet on the outside, he remains relatively composed. It seemed like an unnatural amount of self-control and will power to be able to maintain his sanity, but then at the same time, Ron was confused as he could feel like his own conscious control and will crumbling down, slowly replaced by some other alien controlling force that didn’t felt like himself. There was nothing he could do about it and almost like he was forced to carry on his daily life as “normal” as it could be.
On his way out, he caught the sight of Chris’ dirty clothes in the laundry room and again couldn’t help himself as he quickly snuck in. He grabbed the first pair of dirty socks he could find in the pile and quickly shoved them into his pocket. He knew this was wrong and shameful, but the desire was just too much, nearly a need by now, that it simply overrode his sensible rational judgement.
The rest of the day went by as usual. Ron subconsciously listened to his training program on the train, and “thanks” to his son’s socks he stole in the morning, his day at the office went by a bit easier because he was able to quench some of his cravings throughout the day by getting a whiff of those socks discretely in his office or in the bathroom. They weren’t strong enough to completely satisfy Ron’s needs (he couldn’t be sure if there would even be any complete satisfaction ever), but they provided some temporary relief so the business executive could tone down his frustration levels for a while. But at the same time, Ron also started to notice that his attention was constantly being drawn to other men’s feet around him. He couldn’t help looking down and checking out discretely his male coworkers’ feet as they pass by him around the office. He found himself wondering about the types of socks they were wearing and what the smell would be like. He was shocked and embarrassed by these thoughts and tried to shake those off each time they come up. Ironically, Ron would then bury his nose in Chris’ socks for another sniff, hoping to clear his mind a bit, but yet the ideas keep coming back after a while.
After another long day, Ron finally caught the last train home again. When he stepped off the train and headed towards his car in the parking lot, he noticed the young man in the hoodie waiting for him next to his car. Like their previous encounters, the lanky young man had his hood over his head, earphones in his ears, and the same sneakers that, by now, Ron could recognize and have become a focus of his attention. Ron should be surprised, even alarmed, that the young man would be waiting for him by his car, but at the same time he felt as though he should be expecting him tonight.
The businessman unlocked his car as he got closer and the young man casually got into the back seat. He left the door open and Ron automatically got into the back seat with him and closed the door behind. This briefly caught Ron’s mind by surprise as he thought he should be in the driver’s seat of his own car. But he didn’t have much chance to reflect further on his move, as he was immediately presented with a pair of sweaty, fragrant white-socked feet on his lap. The feet were big, must be at least size 11 or 12, long and slender with a nice arch. The white ankle socks were matted with sweat, Ron could even see the outlines and imprints of the young man’s toes and soles on the bottom. The smell was just overpowering...the kid must have worn them for several days! Normally, neat and tidy Ron would push these stinky dirty feet away vehemently and recoil in disgust. But now, they were like a golden oasis in a desert, or a most delicious dessert; he could barely control his urges to shove his face right into the bottom of those feet and suck away as much of the funk as he could to quench his thirst and crave for the smell.
For the first time ever since they’ve met, the young man finally spoke up: “The Boss has approved and you’re now ready to serve the Gentlemen’s Club. You may indulge yourself while I explain to you some important information.”
Ron needed no further invitation as he immediately dove into the young man’s sweaty feet and sniffed away hungrily. The kid started talking to him in a cold, robotic tone about a bunch of information, the depraved executive was so engrossed in those feet that he couldn’t really hear exactly what was said, but he was somehow still able to understand and process the man’s talk.
“My name is Steve, I’m 23 and I’m a university student,” the young man carried on with his speech in a blunt emotionless tone, while Ron rubbed his face madly all over his feet. “I have been serving the Gentlemen’s Club for over a year now, since I was recruited by one of the Club’s servants, who was my roommate at the time. Just like you, once we were exposed to the GC training app, the conditioning was gradually underway in the following weeks. You would not be aware, but after each training session, the app prompted us to provide input on the progress of our own transformation, as well as personal details. The information was sent back to the central server at the Club for monitoring and each person’s training program was customized based on these inputs over the course of the process.”
A small part of Ron’s conscious mind felt that he should be alarmed by what this young guy Steve was telling him. It sounded like some science fiction or some modern-day slavery nonsense. However, the better part of his brain was completely blurred and overwhelmed by the nasty yet delicious smell of Steve’s dirty socks and feet. It was impossible to control his desperate urges to satisfy his seemingly insatiable hunger for the funky foot odour.
“As servants to the Club and our Boss, we would be instructed to go on ‘recruitment drives’ from time to time,” Steve continued robotically with his “rehearsed” talk. “I was set out on such mission again last month and that’s when I found you as a suitable target on the train. The transformation proceeded smoothly and Boss is pleased with your progress. For my successful recruitment work, I am to be rewarded by indulging myself in return.”
Ron somehow knew the meaning of that last line, like he’s been briefed about what to do in advance. Without letting his face disconnect from the young man’s feet, the executive shuffled himself in the tight space of the backseat of his car and presented his size 11 feet to Steve. The seemingly cold young man was finally showing signs of emotion as his face immediately lit up with desperate hunger. Steve immediately grabbed onto Ron’s feet, yanked off his fine brown leather dress shoes, and urgently shoved the black dress-socked feet onto his face, breathing away with abandon as if they were a life-saving oxygen mask. The two then completely lost themselves in the euphoric high of each other’s sweaty foot smells, losing track of time and the whole world around them. Thankfully, the dark and deserted parking lot of the train station prevented any embarrassing and unwanted attention on the pair.
After an unknown amount of time (actually close to 45 minutes), the ecstasy of their addiction had subsided enough to a level where their rational conscience was finally able to take back some control and they were able to regain some composure of themselves. The two pulled their feet away from each other’s face and, now that the cravings have worn off for the moment, they were instead faced with a sense of awkwardness, embarrassment and shame for what they have just done.
While they tidied up their clothing and shoes in an uncomfortable silence within the confines of Ron’s car, Steve spoke up again: “Don’t bother trying to fight the urges, there’s no point. You just can’t get out of it anymore,” the young man said, this time though in a much softer, timid, youthful voice that is the real Steve; but it couldn’t hide the resignation in his voice. Servants of the Club were not allowed to discuss any details of the Club with outsiders. But given that Ron had just been ‘accepted’ to the Club, Steve felt the mental gag lifted and he was able to ‘share his experience’ with the businessman. “I was just a normal student with a girlfriend, focused on my studies, kept a regular lifestyle and wasn’t even much into those wild party and sex stuff. But ever since I’ve been made to serve the Gentlemen’s Club, my life was thrown into a completely different world. I tried to resist and fight off the feelings like you in the beginning. But it was no use, we were made to put ourselves through the mental training subconsciously, and the programming was iterative and compounding, so it became deeply rooted into our minds very quickly. It basically made us drive ourselves into this downward spiral of submission without us even knowing and it was impossible to get away from the transformation. We are completely under the control and mercy of the Boss and serving the Club.”
Ron was shocked by the young man’s revelation. He now understood that Steve was not some weird kid that he ran into by chance; he was also a victim, forced to become addicted to feet like himself, and basically enslaved to work for this Gentlemen’s Club. “What do you mean by ‘serving the Club’?” Ron asked. “What did they make you do? Couldn’t you tell anyone or go to the cops?”
“You probably didn’t realize explicitly, but have you been able to tell anyone about your sudden fetish for feet?” Steve responded. “We are not able to mention the Club or our conditioning to anyone who is not part of the Club. It’s ingrained in our mind programming, so there’s no way we can reveal our situations to others. As to what happens inside the Club, the Boss prefers his new servants to discover themselves, so I have not been given permission to discuss that with you. You will have to find out yourself when you start your first shift.”
“But I don’t want to...” Ron’s protest was cut short when both of their phones rang to the special tone of the GC app. Instantly, the two froze, put on their earphones and relaxed into the seat as more instructions and programming streamed through their ears into their minds. Their eyes glazed over as the orders poured into their brains, and mumbled their responses when prompted by the program. Before long, Ron and Steve have moved into the front seats of the car and Ron dropped the young man off at his apartment near campus before heading home himself. By the time he pulled into his driveway, Ron has came back to his full senses and realized it was already well past midnight. He noticed his house was already dark, so his wife and son must be asleep already. He was dead tired as well after this long day. As he got out of his car, he checked his phone again for any messages or missed calls, but saw his calendar was open. He noticed an item on the coming Saturday evening: “GC Meeting”, and it was booked for five hours! Ron realized what this was, though he couldn’t recall putting it in himself. He knew it must be his programming. He despised it, but try as he might, he couldn’t get himself to delete the booking; instead, his mental training kicked in and he found himself ignoring what he just saw and putting his phone away.
Dreadfully, Ron headed into his house. He could already feel a bit of his cravings creeping up in his mind again, even though he had just had a feast on Steve’s stinky feet. He just wished to bury his head in his pillow and forget about all this. He prayed for Saturday to never come, but he knew it was inevitable anyway. He stepped inside, shutting the front door quietly, and his eyes turned to look for Chris’ black Vans...