Serving the Gentlemen’s Club
Revelations in the Household
It’s been six weeks since that Saturday evening where Ron was first introduced to the dark side of the Gentlemen’s Club, which has since been forcibly “prescribed” into a part of his regular life. For the first month, he was made to dutifully report back every Saturday evening for several hours of hypnotically-induced anonymous foot orgy. He had to make up some excuse to his wife about having signed up for some professional training course and luckily she seemed to buy it. But in the last two weeks, the stakes have been increased and Ron has been made to report for duty for an additional evening during the week, usually a Wednesday or Thursday. He has had to rush to the Club straight from work at 5PM sharp, spend the evening in the crammed cubby hole slobbering over feet after feet, and then finally be allowed to go home late at night, tired and hungry, never mind also smelling like a dirty sock. On top of that, there’s also the constant and ever-growing implanted addiction that Ron has had to guiltily get his fix through his son Chris’ footwear. It was truly becoming epidemic lately: he would snatch his boy’s socks almost immediately after he came home, right after he dropped his sports bag in his room or his dirty socks in the laundry hamper, so he could have them handy in his pocket for quick sniffs whenever needed (and that was often), and the many quiet or late night moments where Ron would creep up to the shoe cabinet and go through Chris’ shoes one after another desperately sucking in the foul odour like some lost addict. Ron was somewhat surprised that his son has not raised any suspicions or noticed anything odd so far.
For his part though, Ron has pretty much given up on trying to fight back against the invisible trap that the Gentlemen’s Club has put in his mind and he just tried to closed his conscious mind to protect his sanity from the perverted acts that he has been made to do. By now, with the robust mental training and the bluetooth earpiece, which Ron wore perpetually in his ear without his own awareness for constant reinforcement, control and monitoring, any sort of visible expression of or revolt against his condition was simply not possible. But nevertheless, there were times that Ron really wanted to scream for help or tell his family or coworkers about all of the nasty things that the Club has put him and a whole group of men through against their will. He had attempted to do so by approaching Chris or some of his more acquainted work buddies, but the words or any sort of looks of desperate pleas never came out, and worst of all, he invariably ended up peeking down at their feet instead, unconsciously hoping to catch a glance of their socks and feet, drifting off momentarily wondering what the smell would be like, before snapping back to reality, and walking away in shame and defeat.
It was another Saturday morning, Ron went into the kitchen for breakfast and found Chris already there having breakfast with his headphones on. His wife was already out on a shopping and errands run all morning. His son was dressed in tight workout gear and Ron could tell that his son must have just came back from a morning jog. Chris was seated with his back to him and Ron’s eyes instinctively dropped down to catch a glimpse of his boy’s feet clad in a pair of white crew socks, of which he absentmindedly noted to himself to grab those later on. Remaining perfectly calm and normal, Ron grabbed some toasts and coffee, and made his way over the table to join his son.
When he sat down diagonally across from his son, Ron noticed that Chris had already finished his food, but he remained seated there, with a seemingly very focused, or was it rather zoned out, face staring blankly at the table. He didn’t even acknowledged his father’s presence. Ron did not thought of anything odd about it; he simply reasoned that perhaps Chris was just focused on whatever he was listening, so he didn’t want to distract him and ate his breakfast quietly. Both father and son just sat at the table, fully engrossed in their own business, completely ignoring the other’s presence or any oddity of the situation.
Once Ron had finished eating his toasts, he pushed aside the empty plate, leaned back in his chair and propped his socked feet up on the edge of the dining table while he continued to enjoy his morning coffee. For a brief moment, Ron thought about his move; it was not something that he would usually do. He had always been a well-mannered man and was taught from a young age to sit, eat and behave properly. Feet on the dining table was definitely a big no-no and it was never in his nature to act that way anyway. But thinking back in the last week or so, he seemed to have been putting his feet up around the house more often for some reason, though it was almost exclusively when he was hanging around his son Chris (he knew his wife would also definitely give him a speech if she saw that). However, he didn’t feel anything wrong about it, instead it felt like a right thing to do. Moreover, he noticed that he had somehow put back on his dirty dark dress socks from yesterday. This was even more certainly less of his nature as well, but then he recalled that because he couldn’t find the other pair of white sweat socks this morning, which he had been wearing for home workouts all week, so he simply had to put on his dress socks as substitutes. Somehow he did not find any of that to be weird and felt instead that it made perfect sense.
With his internal concerns quickly resolved, Ron resumed to sipping the rest of his coffee with his dirty dark socked feet crossed on the table, in full view by his son. It was then that he noticed Chris had finally moved from his deep thoughts. The young man lifted his head and immediately caught sight of his father’s feet on the table. His eyes widened in surprise and was then momentarily frozen in a mesmerized look. Chris quickly snapped out of it in embarrassment when he caught his dad’s gaze and pretended to play on his phone again while nonchalantly leaning back and putting his own socked feet up on the chair directly opposite him under the table.
When Ron caught sight of his son staring at his feet, his first reaction was: “was he annoyed or disgusted by it?", but Chris didn’t say anything about it and quickly looked away. However, before Ron could even finish his thoughts about whether his feet might have bothered his son, Chris’ sweaty white socked feet appeared on the seat right next to him. The sight of them completely wiped off any train of thoughts in Ron’s mind as his eyes became immediately fixated on those nasty yet delicious socks and feet. He struggled using every ounce of his willpower to not drop his coffee and dive face first into his son’s feet right there. With conflicting senses of guilt and hunger, Ron pulled his eyes from the feet to try and focused back on nervously drinking up the rest of his coffee, although he couldn’t help but keep stealing quick glances down to those tasty feet every couple of sips. Unbeknownst to him, Chris was similarly peeking over his phone constantly to try and check out his dad’s feet on the table.
And so the father and son pair continued to sit quietly a the dining table, but now uncomfortably, tensely and nervously stealing secret glances at the other’s dirty socked feet without the other’s knowledge. They sat there, lost in their own guilty pleasure, for some time, until Chris was finally able to break himself away, shyly announced that he was going up to take a shower and hurried away from the kitchen. He hoped his dad didn’t really noticed him stalking his feet.
Likewise, Ron also broke out of his reverie as a result, relieved briefly that the awkward moment was finally over and hoping his son didn’t saw him craving his feet. But that relief was quickly replaced by the ongoing frustration of his cravings. Like a hopeless addict, the man has long stopped trying to fight his induced cravings and resigned to let these implanted feelings take over and do what they want his body to do, so he could at least get some moments of peace and relief from the frustrations...until the next bout hit again. As much as he was still inwardly disgusted by it all, there was simply no way out anyway and fighting back was futile and achieve nothing but prolong his suffering.
Ron waited until he could hear the bathroom door closed and the water running before he quickly made his way upstairs to Chris’ room to look for his “remedies”. Slipping in cautiously, as expected, right there on the bedroom floor, were his son’s workout clothes and that pair of white crew socks that he had just spent his morning staring at, tossed in a pile right by his gym bag. Ron could barely hold back his excitement and hunger as he immediately crouched down to grab the dirty socks, still warm and slightly damp fresh off his son’s feet, and shoved them into his face. He nearly went into hyperventilation as his nose went into overdrive to try and suck in as much of the foot stink as he could. With every breath of musky air that he inhaled into his lungs, Ron could feel some more relief in his brain as his moment’s cravings were being satisfied. However, it was like digging himself out in quicksand: the cravings keep coming back in fervour, and he almost felt like he couldn’t sniff strong and fast enough to avoid drowning himself further in. So there he was, a middle-class clean cut married man and father, knelt in the middle of his adult son’s bedroom in broad daylight, desperately sniffing away at his son’s dirty socks without a care in the world, as if his life depended on it.
Suddenly, he realized the sound of the shower had already stopped. Ron was immediately pulled back to reality from the depths of his son’s sweaty foot smell. His mind was still partially clouded in his foot funk high and panic was quickly rising as he tried to think straight again. It took him a second to find his bearings again and then realized that he should get out of the room as quick as possible. Against his best judgements, the corrupted side of his mind decided to hold on to Chris’ sweaty socks as he got off his knees. As he reached the door, Ron heard the bathroom door also opening at the other end of the hallway. His heart skipped a beat as he literally leaped out of Chris’ room and ran towards the stairs, while still hanging dearly to the prized socks in his hand. He raced down the stairs just as his son appeared in the hallway, who was mildly puzzled at his dad’s seeming urgency to run downstairs.
In the mad panic of trying to flee his scene of shameful crime, a shrouded mind, smooth dress socks on his feet, spanking clean hardwood stairs and careless footing, Ron slipped at about five steps from the bottom, fell back and tumbled the rest of his way down to the main floor below. With a loud thud that rumbled the house slightly, Ron rolled and landed face down on the floor. He laid there disoriented momentarily and with the air knocked out of him, while Chris came rushing down the stairs frantically to check on him.
He could hear Chris calling him out and asking if he was alright, and tapping his back to check if he was hurt. Ron took a second to catch his breath and recover his senses. He slowly reoriented himself, moved his limbs and head slowly to make sure nothing was broken or seriously hurt, and then gestured to Chris that he was ok. Carefully, he lifted himself off the floor to rest on his knees and legs. As he continue to recollect his senses, he felt something subtly different. Sure he was trying to recover from the shock of the fall, but as his head was clearing itself, he felt something more, as in his mind somehow felt more clear and aware than before his fall. It was as though an invisible hood was being loosened or that he was finally emerging through the layers of thick water, and his mind slowly felt clearer and sharper than he had been in weeks. He looked up to his son’s concerned face and suddenly remembered what he was doing just before he came down the stairs. Ron’s eyes widened in horror and started to frantically look around the place in search for his shameful evidence. And there it was, crunched up at the bottom of the stairs, was one of Chris’ gym socks that were in his hands just a moment ago, while the other was flung over to a corner by a cabinet.
However, amidst the pain and panic of the moment, Ron again felt a change in his reactions. While he was frantically looking for the stolen socks, his main intention was not out of the desire to sniff on them again, although there was still some of those tendencies, but they didn’t felt as imposing. Rather, he was acting this way more simply out of fear and embarrassment of getting caught by Chris. The clarity of his own feelings surprised and confused Ron for a moment, since he had been so used to most of his thoughts and actions being driven and overshadowed by the artificial crave for feet over the past two months. Being suddenly able to hold on to his own true thoughts actually left him more puzzled and lost in trying to comprehend what was happening.
That is until his eyes caught sight of the small bluetooth earpiece, lying there on the floor near the doorway into the living room. It must have fell off Ron’s ear when he tumbled down the stairs. A light bulb went off in Ron’s brain as he was finally able to piece everything together. His life had been turned upside down and helplessly controlled by that plain, inconspicuous-looking yet extremely evil device, which he was made to wear and ignore about it day in day out. As soon as Ron was disconnected from it, the constant reinforcement control to his mind was cut off abruptly, together with the shock of the fall, it allowed his own conscious thoughts to gradually resurface and gain back some control of his mind.
“Dad, are you alright?” asked Chris. “You still look out of it. Do you want to sit down first?”
Ron slowly refocused his thoughts and looked up to his son’s concerned face. His mind exploded with a rush of emotions and thoughts rushing out from the far depths of his mind back to the surface. He realized that his mental conditioning has hit a coincidental breach point from the incident. With the control device away from him, he could sense the mental prison slightly weakening, thus allowing his true mind to take an upper hand. This was his chance to break loose from this insanity and take back his life from the evil Club.
“Oh God, son” Ron said as he grabbed hold of his son’s arm. “This will sound crazy to you but you’ve got to believe what I’m going to tell you! I...I don’t even know where to start, but long story short, I got tricked by some guy on the train a while back, who somehow slipped some crazy hypnosis program into my phone and had me unknowingly listen to it and become hooked on it. It then controlled my mind over several weeks and got me unwillingly hooked onto....ummm...” Ron hesitated a bit as he still felt too embarrassing to tell his son.
“What do you mean dad?” asked Chris. “What are you hooked onto? What about this hypnosis thing you’re saying? Who’s doing this to you?”
“It’s a place called The Gentlemen’s Club on the other side of town,” Ron explained. “It looks like just another elite men’s social club on the outside, but on the inside, it’s some kind of high-end gay sex parlour. It’s not even just normal prostitution that goes on, it’s perverted debauchery! The nasty things they make guys do with the members....oh god...I...I can’t even say it out loud.”
Chris looked at his dad in shock as he spilled out about his ordeal. Was his dad saying he was being coerced into some gay sex slavery ring? That sounded so strange and didn’t make any sense at all. Why would his dad, a clean-cut, well-educated, well-mannered corporate executive, suddenly fall into these dark underworld craziness?
“But did they drag you into such things?” Chris inquired. “Were you framed? Did they blackmailed you? Did you go to the cops about it? ”
“No, son. It’s none of that. It was totally random. The guys they already enslaved were tasked to go out and scavenge for potential new preys, I guess I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time when that guy caught me dozing on the train. Like I said, once they snuck the hypnosis program into my phone, it started a training program that compelled my mind to listen to it on a regular basis without me realizing it. Over time, it started reshaping my mind and my actions to what they want. It was so slow and subtly gradual that by the time I noticed something out of place, it was already too late and I was already addicted to the programming and...the nasty perversion they planted in my head... ”
“Umm...what...what kind of perversion?” Ron didn’t notice as he was focused on his confession, but Chris was listening more intently and gradually got more nervous and uncomfortable as his father’s story rolled out.
Ron took a deep breath for a courage boost and blurted out meekly: “It’s...umm...it’s feet. They rewired my brain and got me hooked on men’s feet,” Ron sighed another deep breath and looked away to the floor in shame as he finally broke out his secret. “They summoned me every week to the Club and spend hours there to...to take care of the members’ feet.”
“You mean like doing foot massages....right dad...?” Chris knew it was most likely not, but he was just in shock and disbelief from the revelation. He also felt a chill creeping up his back as the whole thing was sounding increasingly familiar...
“It’s much more intimate than that, son. They made me addicted to the smell and taste of socks and feet...you can tell where that leads. They were very clever at it, it was very subtle in the beginning, like I was just staring at guys feet on the train without much thought about it. But then the curiosity crept up a bit more: I was curious to check out their socks, then what they would smell like. That then slowly became a desire, a need, a hunger to smell some socks and feet. Those bastards made sure that I couldn’t be satisfied with my own feet, so I became desperate to seek out other guys’ foot smell. I had no other easy access to another man’s feet and footwear, so...”
“So you started stealing sniffs from my shoes and socks,” Chris chimed in suddenly. “You would sneak into my room and laundry bin to pick out whatever dirty socks you could find and run off to sniff them out back in your room. You would sneak up to the shoe drawer at night or when no one’s around to sniff through every pair of shoes of mine, the smellier the better. You would linger around me whenever I’m hanging out at home so you could steal secret glances at my feet and daydream about their smell. Is that how it was for you...?”
Ron was speechless and mortified, like a child caught in the act. “You...how did you know all about it?! Did you always knew I had been perving over your stuff?”
“No dad...it’s because...it’s...it’s just how it has been for me in the past week or so too...” Chris blurted out anxiously. “I started to feel something was getting weird with your socks and feet and I couldn’t help it. I was too embarrassed to tell anyone...just like you did.”
Ron continued to remain speechless and horrified, but now a chill also went down his spine and he almost forgot to breathe as his mouth hung open in shock. “No son...you’ve got to be kidding, right? You can’t be serious...no, no, no...please not my boy as well! WHY?! How did that happen?”
“I have no idea, dad. I hang out most of the times with my buddies at school and on the soccer team. I don’t recall ever running into any weird strangers.”
Things were suddenly clicking in Ron’s head now: how the two of them suddenly seemed to be finding ways to be in the same room together at home, seemingly innocently putting out their feet in full view in front of each other, him wearing dirty socks around the house suddenly, his workout socks disappeared this morning, etc. It all made sense now! But that could also mean that he likely conspired, or at least being made to conspire, in the enslavement of his own son...and he wasn’t even aware of it! Ron cursed those nasty bastards in his head.
Chris’ increasingly panicked voice brought him back to reality: “What are we gonna do now? I don’t want to become some gay foot fetish sex slave, dad! We’ve got to go to the cops and break up this sex slavery club.”
“There’s no use trying to go to the cops,” Ron responded. “The programming prevents us from mentioning or revealing any clues about the Club or our situations to anyone not associated with the Club. We wouldn’t be able to bring ourselves to say anything to the cops even if we desperately want to inside.”
“That’s bullshit! I’m doing it right now!” Chris grabbed his phone and called police before he even finished his sentence. Ron looked on still digesting everything going through his mind. He secretly hoped that his son would succeed and actually be able to blow the whistle on the Gentlemen’s Club, but he knew that, even in his current state of lucidity, the fundamental ‘security locks’ placed in their minds would still prevent them from tipping off.
As soon as the line connected, Chris drew his breath as if to speak but nothing came out other than some inaudible choked stutters. Before either of them could even realize what was happening, Ron’s hand grabbed the phone from his son, brought it up to his head, and in a calm and composed voice, his mouth spoke to the call operator: “I’m so sorry. I mistakenly hit the emergency call button. Sorry about that. Have a nice day. Goodbye.”
By the time Ron’s hand left the phone back on the floor, the two of them finally realized what just happened, and Ron could see the shock on Chris’ face when he truly realized the powers of the mental programming. “See. I told you it was no use. The programming just kicks in and takes over control without us even realizing.” Ron said resignedly.
“No way! I’m not fucking giving in to this shit! I’ll just go scream it all out to no one out on the street!” Chris stood up and bolted straight to the front door, but once he reached the door, try as he might, he couldn’t get his hand to unlock the door or turn the door knob. Ron watched on as his son just appeared to stand frozen by the door, hand on the handle trembling and fidgeting slightly. Realizing he failed as his dad predicted, Chris let go of the door handle and pounded on the door in frustration and screamed: “Dammit! HELP! HELP US!!! I don’t want to become a gay sex slave!”
Ron looked on painfully and helplessly as his beloved boy fell into the same trap as him. He felt particularly shameful and guilty that the programming made him unknowingly recruit his own son into this mess. His mind was spinning in overdrive in trying to find any possible way out for the two of them. First things first, they’ve got to stay away from those reinforcement trainings in order to keep a clear mind.
“Chris, we’ll find a way out of this.” Ron comforted. “But first of all, we’ve got to stay away from their audio programming so we can keep our own clear minds. That bluetooth headset there was what they used to feed me the reinforcement training all the time. For you, I suppose it was through your phone. Did you notice you were listening to music on your phone much more often lately?” Chris nodded affirmatively. “Then that must be it, your music player was likely bugged with a hidden app in it, which fed you subliminal hypnosis programming under the music. So don’t use your phone from now on. Hopefully, without the reinforcement, the mental conditioning will slowly fade off over time and at least we can get our life back to normal. We’ll figure out what to do about the Club later on, we might get someone else to spill it out on our behalf.”
Just as he finished his words, they heard the garage entrance open and close. “Gentlemen, I’m back! Can someone come help me with the groceries in the trunk please?” said Emily from the far end of the hallway.
“Mom!” Chris said as he lit up suddenly. “That’s right! She’d be able to help us!”
Ron blinked for a second and he contemplated at the feasibility of that thought. The Gentlemen’s Club was only interested in male slaves, they don’t have anything to do with women, so his wife should be able to remain under the radar from them. If they could somehow hint to Emily about their troubles, maybe she would be able to piece it all together and go find help for them!
Before Ron even finished thinking about the validity of the plan, Chris had already leaped his way into the kitchen to drag his mom back out to the main hallway towards Ron, urgently trying to explain their troubles to her.
“Mom, please, this is very serious. Dad and I really need your help to get us out of trouble!” Chris explained as Emily trailed along her son, partly confused and annoyed. “Here, dad can explain the whole thing to you in detail.”
“Alright, honey.” Emily replied sarcastically. “So what is it you two did? You ripped a wall, or broke a window, or something? Come on, tell me, I’ll try not to be too upset.”
“Umm....Em,” Ron mumbled nervously. “No, it’s not that. This is much more serious. It’s that...Chris and I...we’re ummm....we’re kind of...I guess you could say...being blackmailed by someone.”
“Huh?!” Emily was shocked and confused by the response. “Is this a lame joke? What do you mean? Someone extorting you for money? Was it something from work? Or is it you, Chris? Did you mess with the wrong people somewhere? What’s going on?!”
“No, Em,” Ron followed on. “It’s got nothing to do with money, business, or messing with anyone. I don’t even know how it got started, but it involves this place called The Gentlemen’s Club. It looks like an elite private club on the outside, but inside, they have ways to...coerce unsuspecting men to do dirty things with its members...you know what I mean. That’s where Chris and I found ourselves in right now...as one of those coerced unsuspecting men...and they have ways to prevent us from going public or to the cops about their business. We want you to go to the cops for us to bust that Club’s slavery ring and free us both from that perverted insanity!”
Ron felt more relief as he spilled out his suppressed frustration from all this time. Repeating the story for a second time again in the same day felt easier since the initial emotional barriers have broken down and it felt better to be able to speak his mind freely after going through an oppressed and sedated state of mind for the past several weeks.
However, when Ron and Chris looked back at Emily, they were a bit confused by her reaction. Instead of a look of shock, disbelief or hysteria that they were expecting, she appeared somewhat slightly out of it for a moment, and then a sudden look of calm indifference.
“Oh. Oh my god, that’s horrible,” she responded plainly, oddly calm and cold, with some forced enthusiasm. “Don’t worry boys, I’m always here to help you out. Let me just quickly run to the bathroom, then I’ll make a few calls and we can settle it all.”
She swiftly pushed her way past the two men and up the stairs to the master bedroom, while Ron and Chris were left somewhat confused by her sudden weird tone.
“Do you think Mom really believed us?” Chris asked. “She didn’t look like she was totally buying it.”
“I don’t know, but I sure hope she does.” Ron said. “But at least she heard our story and either way, if she would at least get someone to talk to us, it’s a good start.”
“I guess. Oh yeah, I thought you said the programming prevents us from spilling the secret? But you just spilled it all out to mom like nothing.”
“Yeah, you’re right son. It wouldn’t allow us to reveal any of the Club’s secret to anyone outside of its influence...”
Ron stopped mid-sentence and his eyes widened in shock at the realization of what he just said and did. He stared back at Chris, who thought for a second before he too stared back at his dad wide-eyed once he put two and two together.
“Does this mean mom is also....” Chris whispered in fear. “No, this can’t be!”
“Oh god, son. This is getting crazy. I’m not feeling good about this. Let’s get out of he...”
A loud sharp siren suddenly blared through the entire house like a fire alarm. Except it was not the same as the usual fire siren, but a high-pitched, deafening cyclical tone that shocked both Ron and Chris. They crouched down and covered their ears, but the sound was so loud and sharp that it seeped right through the imperfect seal of their hands. Within a few seconds, the deafening siren pierced right into their minds, along with the subliminal control words it carried underneath it, quickly incapacitating both men’s conscious minds and dragging them into a deep trance...