Dad tries to teach me a lesson

Ron Bower 3 yrs

*This is a semi (70%) true story. *

Dad tries to teach me a lesson!

My father is a no nonsense guy. Always has been. When I was a child, if he told me to pick up a toy, I’d have one chance to do it before he threw it away. He was divorced from my mom and I decided to live with him while attending community college. Dad worked as a plant foreman, generally 10 hours shifts. He was in his late 30s, 6ft 2in tall, 300-ish lbs. And size 13 feet. I always thought he was handsome, brown hair, mustache, big belly. I was 19, still discovering who I was. It was the late 1980’s, so being gay was shunned upon. I tried to hide my feelings from everyone, so I experimented at home.

From a young age, I loved sneaking in the hamper to take huge whiffs of his socks. Even wearing them for one day, they smelled incredible. Pungent, musky, with a distinct odor that turned me on. I’d often sniff his thick black nylon socks on the bathroom floor and go to town on myself. Now back to the story. My dad put a fresh pair of socks in his shoes each night to wear to work the next day. I got the idea one day to put the socks he’d already worn back in his shoes so he’d wear them to work again. The next day, Dad asked me why I did that. I told him “I wanted to see if you’d wear them.” “Why?” he asked. I was caught. I could either lie, which he wouldn't believe, or tell the truth and get punished. I told the truth. “I like smelling them,” I said. Dad just looked at me and said “ You like smelling dirty socks? “Well stop it!”. That was it I guess.

A few weeks later I was watching pro wrestling with dad.. My favorite wrestler was Andre the Giant. I always loved him because he stood on almost every opponent with his 540lbs and size 24 boots. I still wonder what those enormous socked feet of his smelled like. But I digress. Andre came on taking on some jobber. I immediately “perked” up. During the match, Andre stood on that lucky sap twice. I said aloud,” I wonder what that feels like?” Dad looked at me curiously and responded, “What what feels like?” I replied, “What it feels like to be stood on by Andre the Giant?” He continued looking at me in disbelief, “What?” he said shaking his head, “I’m sure it hurts. Why do you want to know?” Quickly, without thinking, I said, “Because I want to be stood on by him!” Shocked, my dad started getting louder, “First you want to smell my dirty socks, now you want to be stood on! Why? Those things are not normal.” I was upset by his reaction. I did not want him to kick me out. “Forget I said anything” I told Dad, “I was just curious.” “Just curious, huh?” he bellowed. “I’m not as big as Andre the Giant, but if you want to be stood on, I’ll stand on you.” I was speechless. “I’m going to ensure that you get this out of your system so you can become a productive adult. Be careful what you wish for!” He exclaimed.

For the next week, I was both nervous and excited. I was going to be stood on by my 300lb father. I hoped I didn’t regret it. I only had my Dad, I didn’t want him to disown me.I was a bit worried about taking his weight as well. I had been stood on before by guys my size, about 170lbs. I had a friend in high school who loved testing his ab strength by being stood on. We had a bet that whoever gave up first would have to smell their socks. I always lost (wink) This would be different. I still had no clue what he planned.

It was the following Saturday, I went about my day as normal. Doing homework, listening to music, watching wrestling. I was also nervously waiting, wondering, and anticipating what I was in for. Around 2 pm that afternoon, dad announced, “Meet me in the tv room in 5 minutes.”. He was wearing a button down short sleeve shirt, jeans, black socks and his hush puppies that he wore to work everyday. I walked down stairs to the basement, where I found my Dad standing in the middle of the room. ““Lay down!” he commanded. I laid on my back at his feet. “I hope you’re ready. I’m doing this so you don’t get hurt by having others stand on you, and I want you to get this out of your system”. Dad proceeded to put a huge shoe on my stomach, stepped up slowly and walked over. The air gushed out. It was exhilarating. Before I had a chance to think about it, he stepped on my stomach 10 more times followed by stepping on my chest 10 times or so. When we finished, Dad looked down at me, “Hurts, huh?” I nodded no, and said, “Not really.”

Dad smiled, stepped up on my stomach, and stood with both feet. My stomach was sinking under his 300 or so pounds. His shoes were enormous, barely fitting on my stomach. He just stood there, sideways, on my stomach, looking at the tv. It was difficult to breathe, but I was holding my own. After about a minute he stepped off. Without letting me catch my breath, he stepped up and stood on my chest. His shoes were almost touching my chin. I was definitely being crushed. However, dad’s lesson wasn’t working so far. I was getting a woody. He stood on my chest for a minute or so before stepping off. Once again, he asked, “Not much fun is it?” I said, “You’re definitely heavy, but I can take more .” Shaking his head, he said, “OK. I’m not showing any mercy this time.” With that Dad stepped up on my stomach. He stood, and stood, and stood. After several minutes, he turned to face me and stood on my chest. Once again he stood, and stood, and stood. “Untie my shoes” he ordered. I did. He stayed on me a few more minutes. My chest was really sore. But there was no way I’d tell him to step off me.

Dad stepped off after roughly 10 minutes. He pulled up a folding chair, placed it over my legs and hips. He sat down, put his shoes on my chest. “Take off my shoes” be commanded. I did as he asked. The smell was intense. Very ripe. “Putrid aren’t they?” he says. I scrunch up my nose. He puts both feet on my face. “I’ve worn these for the past 8 days at work. You want to smell dirty socks. Here ya go. Sniff away.” Dad continued, “They are staying on your face for at least an hour. Do not turn your face away to catch your breath. If you do, you won’t like what happens.” So there he was, sitting above me with his size 13 ripe black socks on my face. The smell was intense. I decided, I wanted to find out what would happen if I turned my head. After about 10 minutes, I turned my head. “Thats 1” he bellowed. I ended up turning my head 5 times. What can I say, I’m curious.

Dad finally lifted his feet off my face. “Reek, huh?” he says. “They are pretty bad.” I retort. “I told you I was going to teach you a lesson.” He continues, “I also warned you that you’d regret moving your head. You did it on purpose didn’t you?” “Yup” I say. “Well, I’m going to finish your lesson by standing on you until you beg me to get off, then I’m staying on you 5 minutes longer just for good measure. Then, you’ll find out your punishment for turning your head”, he proclaims. With that, he stepped on my stomach and stood. He was standing sideways once again watching tv. I wasn't quite ready for it to end. After about 15 minutes, I tapped his leg stating I’m ready. He continued to stand on my stomach for 5 more minutes. He stepped off, only to stand on my stomach again, this time facing me. After almost 30 minutes straight of him standing on my stomach, he stepped off. “I hope that taught you a lesson?” I didn’t say anything but I had a smirk on my face.

“I told you not to turn your head. I knew you would because you're stubborn like your mother. So you have to pay for it.” And with that statement, Dad stepped onto my chest, facing me. He lifted one foot onto my face. His weight made the smell even more intense. After a minute, he stepped up onto my face and stood with both feet for 10 seconds. My head felt like it would explode. The pressure of 300 lbs standing on my face combined with the ripe sock scent was overwhelming. He stepped back onto my chest and placed the other foot on my face. Same thing happened for almost 1 minute straight. He stepped off and went upstairs. I was spent, sore, and weak. But I felt amazing. We never spoke of it again. Needless to say, his punishment did not work. I’ve been trampled many times by men even bigger than my dad. However, I still have never smelled a pair of socks as perfectly potent as his. But there’s still time.