Back at his dorm room, Slater showered to get the massage oil off his body. Then he changed into sweatpants and a tank top and took a nap, so exhausted from his tickling ordeal.

Slater awoke to movement in the room and saw that Zack was changing. With one eye open he watched Zack pull off his shirt. Suddenly Slater thought about tickling Zack's ribs.

The thought startled Slater. Why was he thinking about tickling other guys? Why was he thinking about tickling his roommate? Slater tried to push the idea away, but Zack sat at the desk and started to peel of his socks. Slater had seen Zack and Kelly roll around in play fights. Kelly had gotten some jabs into Zack's ribs that has made him jump and squirm. Slater was pretty sure that Zack would be plenty ticklish. And he started to wonder how he could find out without giving himself away.

Zack had changed down to just a pair of shorts and, thinking Slater was still asleep, tip-toed across the room. Slater closed his eye and pretended to be asleep.

Zack had the bunk above Slater, so as Zack climbed up to his bed, Slater opened his eyes to see Zack's bare feet dangling down from the bed. Zack had sat up on his bed like this many times before. Slater knew that he had propped some pillows up against the wall and was sitting sideways on his bunk, his legs hanging over the edge.

But now, it had a whole new meaning to Slater. He watched Zack's bare soles wrinkle and flex as Zack wiggled his toes casually. Slater gazed at Zack's feet for a couple minutes and he knew he had to tickle them. But he also figured he'd only have one shot at it and then Zack's feet would disappear up to his bunk.

So Slater planned his attack very carefully. He brought his finger up toward the ball of Zack's right foot, moving with his foot to make sure he didn't make contact prematurely. Then, holding his breath, he wiggled his index finger across Zack's arch.

Zack's foot spasmed as Slater took three strokes up and down and then pulled away. Zack's foot wiggled but nothing else happened. Slater waited a few seconds and still nothing happened. So he reached out and tickled the right foot again, this time, not stopping after the third stroke.

Zack's foot wiggled and twitched, and Slater could hear a soft giggle coming from the bunk above. Slater continued to tickle the bare foot as the movements became a little more violent and Zack started to use his left foot to protect his right. Slater switched his attack to Zack's left sole whenever he did this.

After perhaps twenty seconds of this, Zack said with a giggle, "That does tickle, you know."

"Does it?" Slater said, still using one finger to diddle on Zack's soles. Perhaps it was the fact he couldn't see Zack's face (or that Zack couldn't see the look of excitement on his) that spurned Slater on. He decided not to stop tickling until Zack pulled his feet away.

"I'm tryinnng to reeeaaadd!" Zack laughed.

"So read," Slater responded.

"It's kind of hard to hee hee to concentrate, whoa!"

Slater found a particular sensitive spot in the center of Zack's left sole and brought his finger back to it, "A sweet spot, huh?"

The reaction the second time was not as severe, but Zack's soles were definitely ticklish and Slater's stroking was having a cumulative effect. Zack's feet started to wiggle more severely.

Finally, Zack couldn't take it any more. "Okay! Okay!" he said and jumped down from his bunk. He rubbed his soles against the carpet. Then he went for Slater's bare feet. "Let's see how you like it."

As Zack went for his feet, Slater grabbed him and pulled him down to his bed. The two men wrestled about, trying to grasp the other's ankles. After a couple of minutes of struggle, the two men were laying next to one another, head-to-toe. Each had one arms wrapped around the other's ankles. Like two gunfighters preparing to draw, they each had their free hand posed above the other's soles and were staring one another down.

Zack was always competing with Slater, so Slater knew just what to say, "I bet I can make you say Uncle first."

Zack took to the bait right away, "No way."

"On three," Slater said. Then he counted down.

The two men attacked one another's bare feet. Zack had Slater laughing right away, but after the ordeal he'd been through earlier that day, Zack's tickling was child's play. Slater let Zack tickle his feet freely as he concentrated all his energy on Zack's bare soles.

Now that he had a firm grip of Zack's ankles, Slater tickled Zack's feet in earnest. Using his fingernails to scratch across Zack's tender soles, Slater had his roommate howling. Within a couple of minutes, Zack was hysterical.

Zack was proving to be quite an accomplished tickler, discovering Slater's weak spot on the undersides of his toes. But Slater was confident he could outlast him.

"Wait, wait," Slater said, slowing his tickling.

"You give up?" Zack asked.

"Hardly," Slater said. "We didn't make a bet."

"What do you want to bet?" Zack asked.

"The loser has to do whatever the winner tells him for an hour." It was their typical bet.

"You're on," Zack said and renewed his scrubbing of Slater's soles. Slater gave his attention to Zack's feet once more and the tickling match resumed.

After perhaps fifteen minutes, Slater could tell that Zack was beginning to tire. Not that he was in much better shape, he'd been laughing his head off. But he was determined to beat Zack because he had a lot of plans for his roommate.

Zack was starting to falter. He would be laughing so hard, he would forget to keep tickling Slater, so soon, Slater was feeling a little refreshed and could tickle Zack's feet for vigorously. Finally, after perhaps thirty minutes, Zack wasn't tickling at all, only burying his face into the comforter and laughing, fighting not to give in.

But Slater discovered that he was a cruel tickler and he continued to tickle Zack's feet without mercy. Unable to fight back, Zack had no choice but to scream, "Uncle!"

Slater let his roommate go. Zack was so exhausted, he laid still, gasping for breath.

"Well, loser," Slater said, "it's quarter to four. I'll give you fifteen minutes to recover and, starting at four, you are mine for the next hour."

Zack rolled onto his back, panting, "Yeah, whatever, whatever," he said.

While Zack was regained his breath, Slater went over to Screech's room. Of course, Screech's room looked like something out of FAO Schwartz, not the dorm room of a college freshman. But there was one thing in particular that Slater was looking for; a Native American headdress that Screech had worn for Halloween when they were Seniors at Bayside. He found the headdress in the closet and plucked a stiff feather out of it. Slater returned to his room.

It was almost four and Zack was laying on his own bed. Slater shut the door behind him and locked it.

"So let me guess," Zack said, "I've got to do your laundry again."

"Not this time," Slater said, "That was so much fun, I thought we'd have a few more laughs."

"What do you mean?"

Slater took the chair from the desk and put it next to the bed. He stood on it so that he was about waist high with Zack's bunk.

"All you have to do for the next hour, " Slater said, "Is to put your arms up behind your head and leave them there."

"Put my arms up? What for?"

Slater showed Zack the feather.

"You wouldn't."

"You wimping out of our bet, Preppie?"

"No, but this is stupid, why do you want to tickle me more?"

"I want to see the great Zack Morris made helpless by the stroke of a feather, now get your arms up, it's four o'clock."

Zack balked for a second, but then put his arms up under his pillow. Slater looked down at Zack's stretched rib cage, the deep hollow of his armpits, the rippling of his washboard abs, and wondered if Zack could see the hunger on his face. Zack didn't seem to notice. He was more concerned with the tip of the feather that was descending toward the base of his bare ribs.

As soon as Slater made contact with the feather, Zack was lost. He was laughing and squirming, already finding it hard to keep his arms up. Slater slowly and meticulously tickled every squire inch of Zack's rib cage. He stroked each rib and the little ridges in-between. He traced the outer rim of them and brushed across all the ribs. Zack was laughing hard.

Zack was grabbing onto the bedframe now, trying to keep his arms up. Occasionally, they would come down against his will and he'd have to raise them back up again.

Only ten minutes had passed when Zack said, "Man, Slater, hee hee, you're going to have to tie down my arms so something. I can't stand this!"

"Okay," Slater said and jumped down from the chair.

"Try not to sound so enthused," Zack said as Slater pulled the sash from his robe. Standing back on the chair he said, "Shut up and give me your wrists."

Zack obeyed without pause and Slater tied his wrists together. Then he jumped down from the chair again and crawled into his bunk.

"Now put your arms up and back," he commanded.

There was a gap between the bunk bed and the wall, so Zack could lift his arms up over his head, and then down so his elbows were at the top of his bed and his forearms dangled down. Slater took the end of the sash, pulled it so that Zack's arms were stretched up tight, and tied it off to the bed.

Slater climbed back up on the chair.

"Comfy?"

"Ready to take whatever you can dish out," Zack quipped.

"Oh, so you want to play with the big boys?" Slater said, "Then let's get rid of this," he tossed the feather aside and climbed up on the top bunk. He straddled Zack at the waist. "Fifty minutes to go, Chuckles, get ready for the tickling of your life."

Zack didn't even have time to respond. Slater started rolling his fingers up Zack's muscled stomach.

Zack had always had a ticklish stomach, and Slater's tickling hit right home. Zack was hysterical again. With his arms tied and Slater's weight on his hips, Zack didn't have any wiggle room. Kelly had tickled his stomach a hundred times, but he could always squirm away from her long nails. But he was defenseless against Slater's strong hands.

And Zack noticed that Slater seemed to be taking great pleasure in tickling him so intensely. Slater was mesmerized by his flexed abs, by his heaving chest, by his mouth thrown wide in screaming laughter. Zack started to suspect that this might be more than a game to Slater.

Zack had known the guy for years. When Slater first came to Bayside, Zack was a skinny kid. But he'd been inspired by Slater's body since that first day in school. Slater's physique had encouraged Zack to develop his own. And the two men lifted weights together. Slater had taught him proper form and technique. Slater had helped Zack become the muscular man that he was today.

And Zack had been bare chested around Slater countless times before. Never before had Slater seemed to take such interest in tickling him like this. Slater was a wrestler after all, and had Zack pinned and helpless many times before. On any of those occasions, he could have taken advantage of the situation and tickled Zack. But he'd never so much as tweaked his ribs before. This sudden interest in tickling him was puzzling. But Zack didn't have time to ponder the question for long, for Slater's fingers were starting to descend toward his armpits.

Zack knew his armpits were ticklish, he just wasn't sure how bad. Any other time before when someone tried to tickle his pits, Zack could clamp his arms to his side to protect himself. Now, his arms were tied back and his armpits were completely defenseless. Zack had no idea how he would tolerate Slater's imminent tickling.

Zack didn't have to wait long to find out. As soon as Slater's fingers began to burrow into the hair of his armpits, Zack was insane with laughter. He could see the look of pure delight in his face as Slater explored every ticklish inch of Zack's pits. If Zack could muster up enough breath to form words, we would beg Slater to stop.

But Zack couldn't protest and Slater showed no intention of stopping any time soon. There was still a quarter hour of tickling to go, and it looked like Slater was going to spend every second capitalizing on his most ticklish discovery.

Unable to move, or resist, Zack had no choice but to give in. He concentrated on the tingling sensation of his pits as he continued to laugh hysterically. It was obvious that Slater was quite enrapt by Zack's ticklish body and Zack thought he saw the hint of a tent in Slater's sweats. That's when he realized his own organ had taken its own initiative.

When Slater shifted his weight, Zack suddenly realized that he was erect. And when Slater settled back down, Zack suddenly realized that he wanted Slater to do something about it. Slater seemed to sense his need, so he sat up a bit again and then settled back down. Then he sat up and down again. And again. And again, until he started to get into a rhythm.

Zack's armpits were on fire, but the tickling was playing its part in Zack's pleasure. On one hand, Zack was praying that the tickling would stop. One the other, he wished the tickling were worse, and that Slater would not stop wiggling his fingers in his pits. It was an overwhelming sensation, much like the orgasm that was quickly overtaking his body.

As soon as Zack's body frozen in orgasm, Slater wondered what would happen next. He hadn't anticipated taking it this far, but he never imagined that he would get so excited by tickling his roommate. Slater was lost in thought when he realized Zack was yelling at him.

"Slater, hee hee hee, Slater, please stop, I can't stand it now. It tickles too bad."

Slater realized that he was still tickling Zack's armpits. And he remembered how it felt earlier today when he had cum himself and Tony had kept tickling his feet anyway. Slater empathized with Zack and stopped tickling, although he really didn't want to.

As Zack regained his breath, Slater untied him. He sat on his bunk, grateful that he couldn't see Zack's face, although he could still hear his panting.

Then Zack said, "I suppose I should tickle you back now."

Zack had offered to reciprocate the tickling, but Slater knew what he was really referring to.

"You don't have to, if you don't want to."

Zack jumped down from the bunk and put out his hand, "Give me that sash."

Slater turned it over to him and laid down on his bed. Zack straddled him without a pause and said, "Lose the tank top."

As Slater moved to comply, and then hold out his wrists so Zack could tie them, he asked, "Where are we going with this?"

"Do you want me to tickle you or not?"

"Yes."

"Then shut up and enjoy it. We've got three more years of college to figure this out. Now where'd you throw that feather?"

His arms tied and helpless, Slater realized his fate was up to Zack now. And if he was going to give him a tickling even half as bad as the one he'd just received, Slater knew he was in for quite an ordeal.

Zack hadn't even touched him yet and already Slater was smiling.