Foot
Club
by QuantumLuv
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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.
-----
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 frat boys 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 & Doug
chatted for a while, 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 A&F 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 rules are ... 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 boy flesh.
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, and 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 hard
on 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 don’t know" 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 YouTube 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 guy’s 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 other’s 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
"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.
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