Nerdlinger
by QuantumLuv

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Lee's flip flops were about to fall off. This wasn't a good thing.

Elevated about a solid foot off of the ground, Lee was being pressed up against the wall outside his college cafeteria by a bulky, buzz-cut young jock named Andy. Andy's forearm was pressing right up into Lee's chest. Lee, being the geeky English major that he was, could do nothing but play puppet to his overly-aggresive handler.

"Gimme the goddamna card, Nerdlinger!"

"C'mon -- these last meals are for me!" said Lee as best as he could through his presently-squished face. His left flip dropped to the floor.

"Do you want to look good for your online girlfriend or not?" bellowed Andy, his two jock friends behind him snickering at the remark.

Reluctantly, and without much choice, Lee handed over his meal card to Andy. Andy released the shy freshman, who immediately dropped to the ground. Gasping for air, Lee could hear Andy make some snidely stupid remark as he entered the cafeteria with his meal card: "Dropped your sandal, Nerdlinger." Almost on cue, Lee could feel his stomach rumble. He was going to be hungry tonight ... again.

Angrily walking back to his room, Lee thought about how this whole predicament started. Writing for his college's student paper during his first term, Lee secretly had journalistic dreams, wanting to become a pro music critic -- unfortunately, there already was a music columnist at his campus paper named Evan; he had a goofy whiteboy fro but the kid knew what he was talking about, so Lee knew best to stay off. Wanting to break into the journalism clique by any means necessary, Lee talked to the paper's editors (seniors, naturally) willing to take on any story available. Wanting to test him out with a high profile piece his first time out, the seniors had him cover the big homecoming football game. Lee prosed his coverage up to make it as dramatic as possible, but what he failed to realize (as did his copyeditors, who just took him at his word) was that there were too Andy's on the team: Andy Fitzpatrick and Andy Holmes. In his article, Lee wrote that Holmes had completed the game-winning touchdown ... when it was in fact Fitzpatrick (putting Holmes' name in the headline certainly didn't help either). Though the captain of the team fired off a very angry letter to the paper, it was Fitzpatrick himself who would up giving Lee the hardest time: calling him names in passing between classes, writing embarassing remarks on Lee's Facebook wall, and -- as of recent -- bullying him into giving him his meal card so that Andy could swipe himself in to the cafeteria. Either Andy lived off-campus or he was just being a dick to Lee ... either way, it annoyed him.

Storming into his room, Lee kicked off his flips and jumped right into his bed, burrowing his head into his pillow. His roommate Brandon, who was on his computer, looked over to see his roommate's chest heaving mightily: these were angry breaths. The dark-haired Brandon turned to Lee and asked what any good friend would ask in such a situation:

"What the fuck, man?"

"God, I fucking hate Andy." said Lee, angrily, through his pillow.

"Well, that's not too out of the ordinary. What'd he do this time?"

Lee sat up and faced his roommate: "He took my meal card. AGAIN. This is the fifth time he's done it! I practically had to beg him to get it back from him last time around. He's used up so many that I don't think I'm going to have enough meals to finish out the term. I mean ... christ, it was one typo, man!"

"Well, in his defense, it was a pretty big typo."

"You're not helping, Brandon."

"Sorry dude. I'm just saying."

Lee went face down into his pillow again. Brandon walked over to his roommate and placed his hand on Lee's back.

"Dude, he may be an asshole, but you can't let this stuff get to you. Why don't you go out tonight? Have some fun? Huh? I hear Cindy Dorffman is going to be holding a kickass party at her house tonight. You should go. It's off-campus so you know shit's gonna get wild."

"Are you going?"

"Nah, man. I'm heading back to the city to see my 'rents this weekend. They want to 'restructure my student loan payments' this weekend, whatever that means. I figure I can get some free meals out of it as well, so I figured what the hell."

"When do you leave?"

"Tonight. Why?"

"I dunno," said Lee, facing his handsome roommate again. "Just nice to not be alone sometimes, you know?"

"I know man. Hey -- why don't you jack it to one of your tickle videos? That always seems to cheer you up."

"Dude, it's called having a tickle fetish, and sometims videos just don't match to the real thing, ya know?"

"Well, whatever. I'm just offering suggestions."

There was a pregnant pause. Lee started: "You know, my offer still stands ..."

"Ha!" laughed Brandon. "Dude, again, I'm not gay, and even if I were to let you tie me up and tickle me, it'd have to be for more than $100. Though I dunno, we'll see how this whole 'loan restructuring' thing goes, ha ha." Lee was stunned: he actually said 'ha ha'.

Brandon looked at the clock on his cell phone. "Oh shit dude, I gotta go!" He ran to his drawer to get a fresh pair of socks and began putting them on. He turned to Lee: "Ya know, man, if you want that frozen pizza in my mini-fridge, you can have it, dude."

"Really?"

"Pfft, why not. I'll be gone all weekend anyways. 'sides -- you're a lot more fun when you're not starving or pissed off."

Lee smiled. "Thanks, roomie."

"Seriously, Lee: have a good time tonight. You can even steal one of my joints if that'll help."

Lee smirked. "You do know you're a good guy, you know that?"

"You're damn right, dude. And don't you forget it." Brandon said that last bit with a smile. Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, he headed for the door. "Catch ya later, Lee."

"Later, man."

The door shut behind Brandon as he dashed out. Lee took a heavy sigh, and laid back into his bed. Before long, he was sleeping.

+++

When Lee woke up, it was well past 9PM. Distraught, he popped Brandon's frozen pizza in the kitchen in his common area, and took a shower while it cooked. When Lee was all dressed again (button T-shirt, jeans, and flips -- his favorite look), he helped himself to some pizza, checked his e-mail, some foot and tickle sites, and then his Facebook. His friend Lisa (from AP Lit) did a Facebook invite, asking him to Cindy's crazy party. At least one of his friends would be there if he went. Maybe going would be a good idea, he thought. He finished his third slice of greasy pepporoni pizza, placed the remaining slices in Brandon's mini-fridge, and then made up his mind: he was going to this party. He called Lisa and was soon heading out the door in no time flat.

Meeting the stunning, blonde girl that was Lisa over at her dorm entrance, Lee walked with her as he told her of his latest run-ins with Andy and she told him of how things are getting mixed up with two guys in her poetry class who are best friends but both kinda like her. They had a great understanding. When arriving at the somewhat decrepid house that Cindy lived it, it was obvious that the party was well under way: music was blaring out from the windows, a bunch of guys were casually swigging Bud Lite on the front porch, a girl was already throwing up by the side of the house, etc. Though reluctant, Lee went in, and it wasn't long before Lisa found some other friends and soon branched off, leaving Lee by his lonesome. He made his way upstairs, where it was surprisingly dark. Looking about the open-door rooms, he eventually found a room that was filled with had to be 20, 25 people. A bunch of people were watching The Dark Knight in Blu-ray, and on a big HD TV as well -- no wonder the lights were darkened. Most everyone had a beer, but Lee was OK for the time being. He hugged the back wall and just watched with everyone else (some people hadn't seen it yet, so the pencil scene was a great surprise -- Lee smiled at their horrified reactions).

Some 20 minutes later, a voice cried out "Hey, I'm hot-boxin' in the bathroom if anyone wants to join." Lee knew what that meant, and yeah, he wanted to smoke up too -- this was a night to forget about his worries. He made his way into the cramped little bathroom on the second floor of this house and closed the door behind him. He turned and saw who that voice belonged to: Andy (Fitzpatrick).

"Oh, Nerdlinger."

Lee paused. "Do I have to beg to get my card back this time?"

"Nah," said Andy, who seemed to be in usually good spirits. "Here ya go man." Andy handed Lee his meal card back, as if it were no big deal. This was unusual. Andy looked around the cramped room. "Just you, Nerdlinger?"

"Um, yeah, I guess."

"Man ... I thought more people would want to smoke up, I guess. This is kinda disappointing."

All Lee could do was stare at his sometimes-nemesis. He was decked in a red T-shirt, backwards Yankees cap, cargo shorts, and tennis shoes with ankle socks -- he was ... kind of attractive for the moment. Andy was acting as if all the bullying over the past couple of months was no big deal. In fact, it seemed like Andy hardly knew him at all. Lee wondered if Andy had already had a bowl or two prior.

"Well, hey," said Lee, somewhat nervously, "if people don't want to join in, that just means more grass for us, right?"

Andy laughed a bit. "You're damn right, Nerdlinger. Why spread the wealth, ya know?" Lee actually didn't know, but nodded in agreement anyway. Andy reached to the apple on the small little sink, which, Lee noticed, had been carved out into a makeshift bong. There was a healthy amount of weed on the top, and before long Andy grabbed a lighter and began smoking. He inhaled a deep breath ... and then handed it to Lee. Given that the bathroom was, in fact, pretty small, the smoke was accumulating and genuinely "hotboxing", meaning the guys were getting second-hand inhales as well. Lee was going to stop as soon as Andy did, but Andy kept passing the apple back and forth -- they must've had ten hits between them! Around the final one, Lee began to feel the effects that the grass was having on him ... and this was some potent stuff. Lee began laughing for no reason. Andy turned to him with that goofy stoner grin slapped upon his face.

"What's so funny, man?"

Lee giggled. "I don't know, man!"

"Awesome." The boys laughed and suddenly felt good about ... well, everything. Lee started at himself in the bathroom mirror. Then at the door handle for no reason. Then to Andy, who was looking down on the floor for some reason. Lee tried to focus in on what Andy was so intently viewing ... and ... no. It couldn't be.

Andy was looking at Lee's own toes.

There wasn't a doubt that they looked good in cheap flip-flops and draped in blue jeans as they did now, but Andy looked positively hypnotized by then. Lee wanted to test his theory: he wiggled his toes, and it had a visible effect on Andy: his mouth dropped open, agape in wonder. Lee wiggled again, and Andy took a deep, unconcious breath. Lee wondered if it was true, so tried to -- in the stoned haze of his mind -- be very careful with what he was going to say.

"Andy ... what are you looking at?"

"Oh, um ... nothing, man."

"Were you looking at my feet, dude?"

"... no."

"It's OK to say that you were, man."

Andy paused, still staring downward. "OK, I totally was."

"You like 'em?"

"Oh god yes." Andy stared up. "I mean ... no I ... I don't know."

Lee grinned. "Andy ... do you have a foot fetish?"

Andy's face went beat-red. "... maybe."

Lee couldn't stop grinning. "I think you do, Andy."

"Oh god, dude! Please, don't tell anyone! The guys would hate me if they knew I was staring at their feet in the locker room. Promise me you won't tell them, dude!"

Wow, Andy's paranoia was really taking over. Lee, suddenly, had an ingenious idea.

"Sit down." he instructed the jock. Obediently, Andy sat down on the toliet seat. Lee sat down on the edge of the cheap little bathtub installed in this bathroom. Lee raised his sandaled foot and placed it right Andy's lap.

"OK, Andy -- I'll keep your secret ... but only if you worship my foot."

Andy, stoned out of his gourd, got an excited look on his face. "Really?" Somewhere in the back of his mind, Lee knew that were they not as baked as they were, this wouldn't even be happening. Right now, however, it was turning into a fantastic, erotic dream.

"Yes, Andy -- really."

Andy cupped Lee's foot in his hands, and slowly, carefully, removed Lee's sandal and let it slap against the tile floor. Lee looked up: pot smoke was still circling the horny young men. Cautiously, Andy elevated Lee's foot up to his nose, and inserted his nostrils right at the base of his big toe. Andy inhaled, and Lee could see it was affecting him deeply. While one hand held onto Lee's foot, Andy's other hand immediately clutched his own crotch area, feeling for some sort of erection lost in cargo-short jungle. Lee was blown away: Andy got a hardon simply by smelling his foot. Slowly, Andy's tongue darted out to Lee's toe-pad, and it felt glorious. First the tongue was licking the ends of Lee's toes, almost cautiously, but a few moments later, the jock's big, moist, meaty tongue was darting inbetween Lee's small forest of blonde toehair, slithering inbetween the spaces between his toes. Lee leaned back, and tried his hardest not to think of his own instant boner ... but being as high as he was, that hardon was about all he could think of. His toebath felt like the best thing he had ever felt in his life, and giving how Andy's free hand was continually adjusting something underneath his shorts, Lee surmised that Andy was enjoying himself as well. Then it call came to a grinding halt.

*knock knock knock* "Hey, is someone in there? I need to go!"

Andy's face shot up. He immediately dropped Lee's foot and ran the apple-bong underneath the sink to try and get all the residue out. Lee slid his moist foot into his flip again, and soon both boys exited the bathroom while some other guy rushed in and closed (and locked) the door behind him. Standing in the dim hallway, Lee noticed an erection making itself known in Andy's shorts. Lee looked at Andy and, without any hesitation, said simply: "Back to my place?" Still stupidly grinning, Andy nodded. If Lee wasn't as stoned as he was, he'd be amazed by how simple this all was.

+++

When they got back to Lee's room, only the glow of Lee & Brandon's dual screensavers was illuminating the small dorm that Lee called home. As soon as Andy entered and Lee locked the door behind the both of them, Andy -- stupid, stoned, and very horny -- turned to the small geek and asked simply "OK -- how do we do this?"

Lee, enjoying the slight roleplay from earlier, clumsily said whatever came out of his mouth.

"Well, first off, how can a slave worship the feet of his master if the slave himself is not barefoot?"

"Of course, master!" said Andy, who kneeled down and was able to slide both his sneakers and his ankle socks off in one go. Were Lee sober, he would've noticed a few things already: 1> Andy jumped right in by calling him 'master'. 2> Back in Cindy's house, Lee said 'worship' and Andy knew exactly what it meant. And 3> holy shit, Andy Fitzpatrick had a goddamn foot fetish and had already given his toes a tonguebath! Andy, now nursing his own rod of steel, wanted to see just how far he could go.

Andy looked eager: "May I worship master's feet now?"

Lee was severely enjoying this roleplay. "No! First, you must answer me ... what do you want to do to my feet?"

"Oh man" started Andy a stoned, horned-up monologue, "what wouldn't I want to do to them? I want to lick them and kiss them and suck on your toes and lick them and tie you up and tickle you and have your feet sticking out over the edge of your bed while still in jeans and rub my cock along the tops of your feet just so that your foothair stimulates it just enough and then cum all over you and then lick your num-nums all over again!"

4> Andy just called Lee's toes 'num-nums'.

"OK," started Lee, "you may do so, but FIRST! Tell me ... how ticklish are you?"

Andy yelped, completely out of character. "Oh god, very."

"Well then, how much tickling will you be willing to endure to live out your fantasy?"

"Oh man, I dunno ..."

Lee jumped on his bed, his legs hanging off the side, facing Andy. He let his flips drop to the floor. He purposely rolled his feet around in the air just to see how hypnotized his stoned little jock friend was. Andy's tone was changing:

"Well, god ... they're just so goddamn beautiful. I dunno ... I'd do anything just to get to taste 'em again."

"That's all you want to do? To taste them?"

"To taste them and worship them and fuck them and lick them all over again, yes master."

"Then take your shirt off and lay on my bed, slave. You need to be tied up first."

"Yes, master."

5> Andy was letting himself get tied up for tickling just so he could taste Lee's feet. Fucking wow.

6> Andy automatically put his arms over his head, as if he knew what position to be tied and tickled in.

Lee went into his dresser and found the longest dress ties he could find. He soon began securing Andy's arms to the bed's frame, and then moved over to Andy's feet. Lee had to stop for a moment -- he was glaring at the tops of Andy's feet, and they were glorious. Huge, size 12 monsters with wonderful-looking toes, and just the perfect amount of hair on the tops. Lee was getting turned on all over again, as if there was an erection inside his erection (which was now threatening to rip a hole in his jeans. After he secured the anxious jockboy, Lee pulled out one other tie and began to blindfold his newfound footslave.

"Oh, c'mon, man! I can't see!"

"That's kind of the point" said Lee, who -- now that Andy was blindfolded, began stripping down to his boxers. Lee jumped up on his bed and stradled Andy right at his midsection. Already the jock was struggling. Lee began asking a series of questions to which he already knew the answer to.

"Do you like being tickled, my slave? I bet you love being tickled. Where are your ticklish spots?"

Grinning, Andy yelled "I'm not telling you!"

"Well we'll just have to find out now won't we?" And like an eager miner, Lee's index finger slowly descended into Andy's belly button. When their skin made contact, Andy screamed.

"DON'T!"

"Oh, it's too late, tickle slave!"

Lee's finger began twisting and contorting within that belly button, like a hungry tickle worm searching for subterranean wells of tickle juice. Lee was relishing the moment: with each move of his finger, he could see Andy's body writhe in accordance. Soon, the finger exited and both hands began lightly spider-tickling the jock's stomach, sending Andy into giggle convulsions. As the hands slowly, carefully worked their way up his ribcage like a ladder made of laughter, Lee began saying diminutive, simple things to make his stoned aquaitence feel even more powerless:

"Who's my tickle toy? Who likes being tickled? Hey everyone -- laugh if you want to be tickled!" (Andy's jaw looked almost unhinged. His midsection began thrusting in horny desperation as tickle victim.) "Sounds like we have someone who wants to be tickled! Don't worry, ANdy: we got bags and bags of tickles here for you, and we're going to use each and every one on you! So much tickling! Tickle tickle tickle tickle! You're such a good tickle toy. I'm just gonna keep on tickling you until you stop laughing ... which is going to be a long, long time, Tickle Toy."

Sweat began collecting in Andy's damp armpits. His toes began twisting and contorting, as if trying to physically release all the tickles from his body. Though still pretty gone, Lee was inhaling these small details, saving them for later. Lee's hands found their way onto Andy's hairy thighs, and they squeezed as if tickle juice would come out. Andy yelped and lauged some more. As far as the blindfolded Andy was concerned, Lee's hands turned back into the dreaded Tickle Spiders, and they were ... going up the legs of his shorts! They were now under his shorts -- he couldn't take it anymore!

Lee looked on -- the tentpole was so pronounced he could hold a circus under there. As caught up as he was in it, Lee suddenly stopped tickling his victim, and collapsed right next to his bound side, his nose dangerously close to Andy's exposed armit. Even though he wasn't being tickled, these laughter aftershocks kept coming in waves, and Lee was enjoying each and every one. Lee's devious finger reached over and scratched the top of Andy's tent pole, the sensation felt between a layer of both cargo and boxer fabric. Andy's midsection contracted as much as it could, but it couldn't escape. Lee grinned again, his finger now circling the top of Andy's cockhead:

"Tell me, slave ... what do you want to have happen now?"

"Oh god ... I need to cum!"

"What was that?"

"I need to cum, master! Oh god I need to cum!"

Positioned parallel to him, Lee's barefeet now began rubbing against Andy's bound feet, almost polishing them.

"Oh, you need to cum, do you? I thought you wanted to worship my feet ... "

"I want to do both!"

"Well, you can have both, but only under one condition."

"What's that?" said Andy, desperate, pleadingly.

"You gotta suffer through more tickling."

"Noooooooo!"

"No? Well no cumming or toe-sucking for you ..."

"No no -- it's ok! You can tickle me! Tickle me to your hearts content ... but goddammit let me cum!"

Lee noted what he was doing: maybe the foot-foot rub and the cockhead circling was too much ... especially at the same time. He whispered to Andy "OK, Tickle Toy. Walk me through what you want me to do." The finger was still circling. Both were still horny and fantastically stoned.

"OK OK OK OK OK ... stop circling for a second. OK. Now. Undo my shorts button. OK. Now pull the zipper down ... slowly. Oh yeah. That feels so goddamn good. OK. Pull the shorts down. No, further. OK. Now ... god ... pull my shorts down. Yeah. Oh god. OH GOD my cock feels free."

Lee's hands tweaked Andy's nipples slightly.

"OH god no! OK OK ... now ... um ... rub your big toe along my shaft."

Lee's finger instead lightly circled the massive, meaty cut cockhead of Mr. Fitzpatrick. "Are you sure about that? Looks like you could burst right about now."

"I'm about to!!"

Lee's finger stopped. He swung his feet over so they were now facing the still-blind Andy. He placed both feet right near the jock's face.

"Sniff."

Andy did, and his hips rised with his inhale. Andy's cock was even harder now. Lee readjusted himself and took his big toe and placed it right at the base of Andy's cock ... and began dragging it up ... slowly ... centimeters at a time ... and, just like that, Andy came. Hard. Gushing. Shot after shot. Lee got off his bed, his own hardon straining through his boxers. He stood on the other side of his room and evalutated what was going on: this horny young jock boy who had tormented him so frequently as of late just came after hours of tickle torture and a single toe against his cock. This was, unreal. In fact, the joyous stoner haze he had on before was starting to fade.

Suddenly, Lee was a bit scared, as if he was starting to get sober, then surely the post-orgasm Andy was starting to feel that same way as well ... and christ, what would he do if he suddenly realized that he was tied to a bed in a room he didn't know, covered in cum and Nerdlinger staring at him with a hardon in his shorts? Lee thought about running or untying or ... no.

Lee caught a glimpse of Andy's soles, perfect & glorious, in the light of his screensaver. They looked ... godlike. Andy's hardon was still raging, and he had to satisfy it. He hadn't even pleasured himself to Andy's feet yet! Then, suddenly, he remembered what Brandon had said. Reaching down in Brandon's cigar box, he pulled out a prefectly rolled joint, and just grinned.

He walked over to his still-bound, still-blind victim, placed the joint to his lips, held up the lighter, and said "inhale." Andy did, and he took a massive, massive hit. Lee smoked even more. He was buzzing again, and no doubt Andy was as well. Tired, blindfolded, and completely helpless, Andy's face turned to where (he thought) Lee was, and said "Can I worship your feet now?"

Lee grinned, setting the spliff down in Brandon's ashtray on his desk. He turned to Andy, staring at those size 12 monsters, and simply said "Ya know, I hear you get more ticklish after cumming."The "Noooo" that followed would echo in Lee's life forever -- he heard nothing louder, nothing more desperate, and nothing as satisfying. Lee was loving being a 'Ler ...