By QuantumLuv
1.”What the fuck is ‘Foot Club’?”
“Dude, just drop it, OK!” sneered Zach, the skater punk that sat in front of Todd every day during his Philosophy of Art class. Todd looked pleading with his blazed blue eyes and collegiate-handsome good looks, but Zach wasn’t going to budge. When Zach left to use the restroom two days ago, Todd managed to sneak a peak into Zach’s planner during a planned writing exercise. It said that next Tuesday would be a meeting of ‘Foot Club’, but the very fact that Todd even mentioned it to Zach was obviously breaking some taboo.
Admittedly, Todd didn’t care much about forming a friendship with Zach — after all, the dude wore skater shoes — but Todd couldn’t help but be a bit intrigued. When Todd was a teenager, he began developing his strong, powerful male foot fetish, which started during a Scout camping trick in which he lost a bet, was hog-tied in his tent, and forced to smell and worship the feet of the senior Scouts (AKA the ones nearing Eagle). It was a one-time, isolated event, but its effect still had a powerful effect on the young Todd. He started out seeking revenge — making his captors do the same thing to him that they made him do — but soon his desire to get back at the scouts turned into an all-out obsession with men’s feet. It was weird for Todd — he still liked girls, and wound up (surprisingly) being quite the ladies man during his senior year of high school — but he just got turned on by guys feet and the very thought of worshipping, tickling, and massaging them. Guys in flip-flops were his favorite, and even though he had a few discreet, intoxicated experiences with some “foot guinea pigs” during his freshmen year in college, the idea of sex with a guy just didn’t do anything for Todd. He just wanted feet — it became somewhat of an insular sexual conquest for him, and one that he wasn’t able to satisfy for months on end. He had an “understanding” with one of the gay guys on campus, who kindly let Todd worship his feet for hours on end, but as soon as actual emotions were beginning to emerge between them, Todd cut it off — he just wanted foot action with no strings attached (which, oddly, was a very very hard thing to get). It was a weird, complicated experience that wound up polarizing his friends around him, but Todd knew he couldn’t change who he was — better to accept than fight was his thinking.
Even now, watching as Zach glanced over his shoulder at him every few minutes just to scold him, Todd began wondering what this “foot club” experience was. Oh yeah, he got the reference: Fight Club and all that; hell, he didn’t even think it was that tacky of a name. He just wondered what if there were guys around here that shared his fetish? He had a crush on every perpetually sandal-clad frat boy that walked by him, unsure of whether he wanted to dominate them or be dominated by them. Every once in awhile some guy would catch him staring at their feet, but he could never be sure if the glance he got in return was a look of disgrace or a wink of acknowledgement. Either way, Todd’s feet — in flip-flops and blue jeans for every day the temperature was over 50 — were exactly the kind to get glances: size 12 monsters with absolutely perfectly rounded toes. He just got a Feet.TV profile the other week, and already he had made some 30-odd friends, including eight right here in this very state! As turned on as he got by others, he also knew what kind of message taking care of himself sent out.
The sharp buzz of the bell snapped him back into reality, and he seemed dazed, just woken up after dreaming of feet, a small hard-on in his pants that disappeared the second he saw that scrawled on the blackboard were the words “THREE PAGE ESSAY DUE TOMORROW” … and had no idea what the prof was referring to.
As he wandered across the spring-licked campus, nodding at friends and classmates, he gradually came to a decision: tomorrow night, he would follow Zach to “Foot Club.”
——2. When Tuesday rolled around, Todd had gotten nervous. He was thinking of nothing but possible worship opportunities, often fantasizing about tied up on the floor of a fraternity basement, sandaled and barefooted fratboys tickling, poking, prodding, and teasing him, all filming it and putting it up on YouTube in an act of great humiliation.
Todd was still reading an incredible new TKLFrat story at 2AM, losing track of time while trapped in a horny state of mind, jacking himself off in nothing but his computer screen glow … at least until his roommate burst in. “Still up?” said the bearded, handsome Doug, as Todd quickly Alt-Tabbed his screen and covered up his massive hard on as nonchalantly as possible. “Oh yeah … you know how Googling yourself can lead you to weird places on the internet.” “Ha ha, yeah” sighed Doug in agreement.
Todd hated Doug: not because of who he was (he actually was a well-tempered guy who never got agitated by any of Todd’s habits regarding hanging clothes up), but because of what he wore. That’s right, Doug wore Chuck Taylors every day. Ever. In his life. He was somewhat of an overachiever and a drama nerd to boot, so between the early classes and late rehearsals, Todd was usually in bed during anytime that his buddy would be unshod. The few glimpses of Doug’s foot flesh that he saw were too much for him — he had an unbelievable crush on Doug’s feet (and to a lesser extent, Doug), so seeing them as infrequently as he did just drove him up the wall. He and Doug chatted for awhile, but before long they both had turned the lights off and went to bed. Todd, awash with fetish fantasias, wouldn’t fall asleep for another three hours.
When he woke up the next day, it was 1PM. He didn’t know how he did it, but here was, awake and having just missed three of his classes. Well, fuck. Tonight was Foot Club — he could give himself the day off. After grabbing some cereal, he waded around in his dorm room trying to kill time, popping in some Doctor Who but then regretting it ‘cos he forgot the Season Two opener had David Tennant barefoot for half the episode, further propelling his fantasies. He tried to do some Spanish homework, but still couldn’t get his mind off the topic at hand. Time inched by, but by 5PM, he was saddling up to do some Zach stalking. As he was putting on his hoodie (yes, even with jeans and flip-flops still), Doug walked in.
“Hey man … where you off to?”
Todd remained coy: “I don’t know, I just need to go out. Some nights you just need an adventure, you know?” Doug laughed, “Yeah, I know that feeling. Well best of luck.” Doug went to his computer and was reaching for a beer in his under-the-counter fridge right as Todd was closing the door.
This was going to be interesting no matter what happened. After getting out of the cafeteria before 6PM (AKA before “the rush”), Todd wound up walking near some of the dorm apartments before he found Zach kicking around in the parking lot of the science building. He was with some skater buds, and Todd sat next to a tree in a distance, just waiting for the guys to finish up. Yet they kept skating and skating, and Todd went from sitting to slumping, from slumping to sleeping. When he woke up, he had no sight of Zach nearby. He glanced at his cell — it was 9:43PM. Shit. He then heard what he thought was Zach’s voice echoing between the apartments down the road. He clenched his toes together around the sandal thongs and began running as fast as he could in Zach’s direction.
When he finally got Zach in sight, he was down to only one other friend who Todd couldn’t recognize — all he could tell was that Zach’s friend was in flip-flops, and that’s all Todd needed. He began walking slowly and less conspicuously behind them, the now-present moonlight helping on the visibility front. After a minute’s walking, Zach was soon entering through the ground-level door of a frat house. Todd looked around — no one was watching. After about 30 seconds, he entered the same door, unsure of what building he was entering or what was to be expected inside. Either way, his heart was beating a lot faster than it normally did.
He heard some noise coming from the basement, and began heading down the creaky frat-house stairs. He was walking one flight down … and there was a second? Man, this was a deep basement. Yet there was a room down there of what looked like … hard concrete … but covered by sand? In this room, there were wooden support pillars scattered around, and in the middle of the sand-accented floor, there was a bunch of bare-chested guys, forming a circle around a single swinging light bulb. Todd looked right next to the base of the stairs: a series of discarded AandF t-shirts, hoodies, jackets, and shoes. Yet his inquisitive eye jumped right for the signs, and there were no sandals to be found. None of the guys in the circle had noticed him, so Todd quietly removed his hoodie and undershirt, and walked calmly in his leather sandals towards where the guys were gathered. Much to his surprise …
… they were just talking. Looking at the abs of his fellow peers, he found more six-packs than the Stop-N-Go convenience mart. All these guys … looked good! And were barefoot! There were still quite a few guys in flip-flops, so Todd just assumed that as long as your feet were exposed, you were OK. Todd caught bits of conversations about classes, girls, the kegger this Friday, etc. He was mainly just intrigued by the number of guys around him, all drawn by some strange homoerotic impulse. Oddly, Todd felt safe around here, but he wasn’t sure why.
“LISTEN UP!!”
The voice came from Gregg, the tall, dark-haired kid who always wore a suit to his classes. Now, he was down to nothing but his jet-black dress pants, but never had he looked more commanding. The conversations quickly died like ambers in a fire — all eyes were fixed on the half-nude Gregg. “OK, ladies. Good turn out tonight, I must say. But I’m somewhat disappointed, as this means a lot of your are violating the first two rules of Foot Club.” That last sentence came out sternly, and the gravity of it had an obvious impact on all. “So let’s review,” started Gregg. “The first rule of Foot Club is … you do not talk about Foot Club.” Just like the movie, Todd thought. “The second rule of Foot Club is … YOU DO NOT TALK ABOUT FOOT CLUB — unless you WANT to get punished. The third rule of Foot Club is that if someone is begging for mercy, you stop. The fourth rule: only two guys to a match. The fifth rule: one match at a time. The sixth rule of Foot Club is … no shirts, and no shoes.” The guys let out a holler to this one.
“The seventh rule,” Gregg continued, “is that a match must go on as long as it needs to. And the eight rule is … if this is your first night at Foot Club … you HAVE to take part in a match. With that said … who here is at their first Foot Club?” Todd was tempted to raise his hand, but was too timid. He was standing behind a row of guys, so perhaps he could just quietly slip out and get back to —
“I KNOW SOMEONE!”
Todd perked up — it was Zach’s voice. “Todd is here!” All the guys turned in the direction of Zach’s finger, pointing directly at the flip-flopped Todd, his toes flinching at the sudden attention. “All right!” shouted Gregg. “Zach, since you pointed out the newbie, you gotta match him. Todd! Get over here!”
Todd was frozen. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t bring himself to do anything, but the group of guys parted like the Red Sea to let him into the center of their sweat-drenched circle. Zach had entered the center, and he never looked more fetching, donning nothing but jet-blue basketball shorts. “C’mon!” he cried, and soon Todd began dragging himself to the center, almost as if by an unconscious force. Next thing he new, he was there, facing Zach, with a sea of hungry, lusting eyes looking at every inch of his boyflesh. He slowly slipped out of his flips — it just seemed like the natural thing to do — and suddenly he saw himself at the first match. Gregg was getting ready to shout “Go!” when Todd stopped him. “Hold on, hold on, hold on!” Todd screamed. “Guys, I don’t know what’s going on … I … I just got here. I … I found Zach’s thing about Foot Club and got intrigued and … I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m doing or even what’s happening right now.”
There was a pause. Gregg just smirked at him. “Well, you’re about to find out what’s happening. GO!”
—–
3. Zach began running at Todd and instantly tackled him to the ground. Todd, totally unaware of what was happening, soon sound himself horizontal in sand and panting for breath.
In the struggle, Zach was soon sitting on Todd’s lap, then using his beautiful blond boyfeet to hold Todd’s arms to the ground. With his free hands, Zach suddenly digged right into Todd’s ribs. “OH MY GOD!” screamed Todd, the last word breaking like a laughed syllable. He had never been tickled in his life. He loved dishing it, he loved watching others get tickled, but he had never experienced this sensation. It’s like electricity was being whipped inside his body, and it was nice … and terrible! Todd began laughing, but he couldn’t stop! His emotions … they were being turned on him. He tried to move, but Zach’s strong, powerful feet were driving his wrists into the ground. Todd couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t move. He tried bucking his hips but Zach’s weight was too much for him. The fingers began crawling along his ribs and up to his armpits, and Todd began spasming hard. He was laughing and laughing and OH GOD HE COULDN’T STOP LAUGHING! He wanted to say something, provide a coherent argument as to why he didn’t deserve this, but the tickles were short-circuiting his brain, destroying any chance to develop a thought or say a word.
He heard the faint sounds of the guys hooting and hollering around him, but Zach’s perfectly stiff fingernails were turning Todd into a vessel for tickle ghosts to emerge. He couldn’t believe it. He was helpless and laughing and getting more exhausted with each passing second. He wanted it to stop so badly but his massive, raging hardon was saying otherwise. No doubt Zach could feel it underneath him as he tortured the helpless Todd, but there seemed to be other things on his mind: turning Todd into a helpless Tickle Toy.
Time blurred, his senses got fucked up, and he couldn’t tell how much time was passing during his tickle episode. He wanted to scream and pass out, but it was impossible. He then had a small burst of energy and mustered up a shout: “GOD, I GIVE UP!!” “You have to do better than that!” sneered Zach. “Whahahahat do you want me to haha say, Zach?!” “That you are my footslave!!” Without even thinking Todd screamed at the top of his lungs “I AM YOUR FOOTSLAVE ZACH!!”
…
It stopped.
It actually stopped. Todd couldn’t believe it. His lungs were taking in bucket breaths, and then he turned onto his side, curled up in exhaustion. He had never been hornier in his life. As his head laid down on the sandy floor, he saw a virtual plethora of frat-toes gradually encroaching on him, and with weak breath just muttered a “feet …” before he passed out. He wasn’t in shock, he just needed to sleep.
—–
4. Todd woke with toes in his mouth.
They weren’t too far deep, but there was a salty taste right at the front of his lips. He tried to move. He couldn’t. His hands were tied behind his back with zip-ties, and his ankles were bound together with the same. He moved a bit, and could tell he was nude. The toes drew out from his tongue and his blurry vision gradually came into something clear: Zach’s sole was hovering above him. Zach was in a chair, and Todd was on the floor of some room of the fraternity, a cheap rug keeping his naked body from the plywood. He moved his head around — there was music in the background, guys were drinking, but their attire hadn’t changed. They were all proudly bare chested and barefooted, and even though he was embarrassed to be nude, Todd felt his cock twitch just a bit.
“Hey everyone!” shouted Gregg, “Zach’s Tickle Toy just woke up!”
The guys standing around soon sat down, and Zach could see clearly now: he was in a small room, where two couches were facing each other against the near walls, and in between the couches (on either side) were chairs, one which housed Zach and one which housed Gregg. Todd, horrifically, was at the center of all this, about a dozen pairs of bared and sandaled feet on each side of him, only a foot away. Twitched again. Todd tried moving one more time, but he was toast: there was nothing he could do.
“What’s going on?” asked the weak Todd.
Zach just laughed. “You’re in hell now, my friend.”
“What happened?”
“I dunno” Zach started. “Hey Bill — mind playing back that footage?” Out of the corner of his eye, Todd could tell that some guy was at a computer in the corner of the room, and Todd thought he could see the You Tube logo on one of the pages there. Some buttons were pressed, and then out of the tinny computer speakers, he could hear his own voice scream out “I AM YOUR FOOTSLAVE ZACH!” Then it all came back to him. Oh shit.
“Yeah,” started Zach. “Up for one hour and already gained 200 hits. You’re a cel-web-rity, footslave!” Todd just groaned, half-out of worry, half-out of exhaustion. “So,” Zach continued “we broke out the beers and got some time here. I wanted to ask you a few questions, footslave. Why’d you come here tonight?” The embarrassment was seeping in. “I’d rather not say …” started Todd. “C’mon!” started the guys on the couches. Their toes began prodding Todd, writhing around on the floor, helplessly bound. Some guys just wanted to poke Todd. Some were wiggling their toes into his flesh, making him laugh, while a few just wanted to fondle their new erotic plaything. It was like an army of sweaty college feet had been unleashed on the poor boy all at once, hounds from hell traced on his nervous sweat. The twitch was even bigger this time ’round.
“Not a good answer, Todd …” sneered Gregg. “Now tell us … why did you come here tonight?”
Todd blurted out “I have a foot fetish! I’m sorry, I just … god, I just … I have a major foot fetish, guys. There. I said it.”
“Really?” stated one of the anonymous guys on the couch. “Zach, make him prove it.”
“With pleasure,” Zach said. “Footslave! Sniff that foot!” The guy on the couch was extending his meaty size 10, and soon the toes were practically walking on Todd’s face, the foot slithering its way onto Todd’s nose. Todd didn’t even hesitate: his instincts mad him take a deep, amorous sniff of the guy’s foot, and it smelled glorious. Sweaty, cheesy, and altogether tasty. His hips moved in accordance, and suddenly Todd could feel the eyes of a dozen or so guys all focused on his crotch. He didn’t have time to get embarrassed — he just whiffed again. And again. And thrusted both times, subconsciously. He was immediately turned on.
“Wow,” started Zach “Dude … you might have it even worse than I do.” Todd heard this through yet another sniff. He could then feel another random foot starting to play with his third leg …
“Fuck, I love feet” Todd blurted out, without thinking. “Wow,” started Gregg “This guy is a TOTAL footbitch. This is sensational! Hey Evan, start worshipping his soles.”
Suddenly, the still-sniffing Todd felt a guys mouth encompassing his pinkie toe on his left bound foot, and then working its way to the others. That foot on his crotch was having fun, and before long he found himself sucking really, really hard on the toes he was smelling just seconds ago. More feet landed on his chest and just began moving around. Some guys got down to the floor and began lightly tickling him on his ribs, legs, and crotch. Todd was going into pleasure overload, as everything he could ever want was happening right then and there. His ticklish body soon turned into one big orgasm, and as he thrust his last burst out, splaying the room, he could feel the heat in the room escalate, and some of the couch guys getting down on their knees with their fingers drawn. Soon, everything was becoming a blur — there was lots of tickling, lots of feet, lots of worshipping, all while the frat boys gradually began feeding the newfound slave nothing but beer and bong hits. Todd’s body was exhausted beyond belief, but he was still horny, and the guys just couldn’t stop using him. They were entranced.
Todd was soon licking feet in sandals, answering embarrassing fetish related questions, and kept catching the glimpses of camera flashes coming from unknowing directions. It was like a druggy haze, fantastic and confusing all at once. He lost track of how many times he came — yes, it was that good.
—–
5. Light was peaking through the window of the room — daybreak. All the guys around him were now passed out on the floor or on the couches, some with each others’ feet in their open, sleeping mouths. Todd was still awake, still underneath Zach’s chair, sucking on his master’s toes like the world’s best lollipop, all while Zach was gradually edging himself towards a climax. When he came (and Todd could feel Zach’s toes clench in his warm mouth as he did so), Zach soon sighed, and just froze for a bit. Even Todd stopped worshipping his classmates’ perfect soles, and just laid there, still bound (the zip-ties no doubt having made an impression on his wrists and ankles from all the struggling), and soon hearing Zach’s voice saying “c’mon — get dressed.” Scissor snip. Scissor snip. The bonds were undone. Zach threw Todd’s clothes — flips included — right at his face, and demanded again he get dressed. Todd did so at an exhausted snails pace, but Zach didn’t rush him. When Todd looked up at him, he had a look of acknowledgement from Zach: saying that “yeah, I beat you, but I was in your place once.” Todd felt better, somehow.
Next thing he knew, Zach was slowly helping Todd walk back to his dorm. No words were said — the slap of their sandals against their heels in the damp morning air said enough. Todd reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell phone — he had signed up for Facebook Mobile, and had discovered that he had just been tagged in 44 new photos. There was absolutely no going back at this point.
As Todd got back to his dorm, Zach turned to him and smiled. “You did great, mate,” he started. “Really — you’re awesome.” “Thanks,” whispered back Todd, weakly. “Any questions?”, asked Zach. Todd thought, and could only come up with one: “Yeah … when’s the next meeting?” Zach leaned and whispered into his ear “the date and time is written all over your chest.” Todd really didn’t remember, but knew Zach wasn’t lying.
Todd opened the door to his room, aware of the sound of Doug’s snoring. He sat down at his computer, and just reeled over all that happened. The he looked up — the TV was still roaring quietly, but Doug’s feet were propped up on the end of the couch … and they were bared.
They were prefect. Todd drew closer. Size ten. Softest soles in the world. He brought his nose to the base of the toes, inhaled, and felt himself spring to life all over again. He tried to remember all the feet that he had worshipped in the past 6 hours, but nothing hit him as hard as this. This is what he had wanted to see for months, and now that those perfect feet were in front of him, and they were everything he could imagine and more. He listened. Doug was still snoring. After all he had just gone through — Todd’s inhibitions were gone.
Without thinking, he went and began lightly sucking on Doug’s perfect, glorious toes. He felt great. He was alive again, feeling like invincible steel. In a matter of seconds, his worshipping went from simple to passionate, and was soon engulfing the feet with his mouth, savoring every salty molecule. He was so engaged, he didn’t even notice that Doug stopped snoring. He did notice this, though:
“Dude … what are you doing?”
Todd looked at Doug — he was wide awake. His tone was more curious than vindictive, but here Todd was: caught red-handed in his horny pursuit of the perfect foot to worship. “I … I’m sorry, Doug. I just … I have a foot fetish and I’ve been wanting to see your feet for so long and I would’ve given anything to worship them and just acted. I’m really really sorry.”
There was a pause. Doug cocked his eyebrow, and asked “ANYTHING?”
And Todd was found out, his greatest weakness suddenly exposed at the moment he least expected it, realizing now that he would be a perpetual footslave to the person who he thought would least control him … and there was nothing he could do about it.
Perhaps this is why it was the start to the greatest day of his life.