It was almost seven o'clock on Friday evening at Belmont High. The football team, the Belmont Tigers, had won the game and they were parading through the halls like nobody's business. The leader of the rabble was Patrick Brautigan, the 6'0'' tall, blond-haired captain of the team.
Also present at the school that evening was Brian Harvey, a lanky, red-haired lad who had long suffered under Patrick's tyranny. He was a taciturn, bespectacled boy who preferred books over sports. Naturally, he was an easy target for Patrick, who picked on him ruthlessly. One time, he and some of his buddies threw poor Brian out of the locker room while he was clad in only his gym shorts, and locked the door. The people in the hall pointed and laughed at Brian's predicament, and took pictures.
In spite of all this abuse, Brian secretly fantasized about Patrick; he would often steal lingering glances at him in the locker room while he undressed. Brian also had a fetish for tickling; ever since he was a kid, he fantasized about tickling guys. One time in the locker room, while secretly watching Patrick undress, he thought of how much fun it would be to get his hands on him and tickle him out of his wits. The thought made him so horny that he began to get a hard on, which he was able to partially conceal with the aid of a towel. Speaking of towels, it was Brian's job to collect all the dirty towels in the locker room, put them in a large bin, and transport them to the laundry room. He was also qualified to tend to minor sports injuries.
As the team celebrated in the locker room, Brian went about the business of collecting discarded towels and placing them in the laundry bin. Over the next hour or so, most of the players had gone home. Eventually, just Patrick and one of his buddies, Travis, remained in the locker room- and they were just as drunk and loud as can be.
Patrick sat, barechested, on a piece of exercise equipment which was basically a cushioned seat, which allowed the legs to rest horizontally, and which had weighted handle bars above it to exercise the arms. He and his buddy traded lewd remarks about some girls in the school, and raucous laughter. All of a sudden, Patrick called out to Brian: "Hey dork, get over here!"
Brian froze in fear.
"I think I sprained my wrist during the game; get over here and take a look at it," Patrick said.
Brian grabbed a large roll of ACE bandages and nervously walked over. Patrick presented his right hand to be examined; it didn't look injured at all. Suddenly, Brian got an idea.
"Let me check your other wrist, too.... Yeah, I need to bandage both of them. Lift up both your hands, right next to these handle bars."
With amazing dexterity, Brian tied Patrick's hands together, and then secured them to the handle-bars with a sturdy square knot. Before it registered with Patrick's drunken brain what happened, Brian swiftly tied both his ankles as well.
Patrick was shocked: "HEY, WHAT THE-" he spluttered.
Brian's heart began to beat rapidly as he stood back and watched Patrick futiley tugging his arms and legs against the well-tied bandages. Evidently, Travis found his friend's predicament to be great entertainment, as he was laughing his head off.
"Hey, this isn't funny, Shit-Head!" Patrick shouted. "Lemme go!"
Brian positioned himself behind his captive, and slowly traced his finger tips up his bare sides. This caused Patrick to shout something inarticulate and pull furiously against his bonds.
"Looks like someone's ticklish!" said Brian with wicked glee. Patrick uttered something vaguely obscene in reply. Patrick's buddy Travis, who apparently found his ticklish predicament to be great entertainment, reached into his duffel bag and pulled out a cam corder.
"W-What the hell are you doin' with THAT?" asked Patrick dimly.
"What do ya think?" replied Travis dryly, as he turned on the cam-corder. "Do ya really think I would pass up on an opportunity to film you gettin' tickled like a bitch?"
Brian dug his fingers deep into Patrick's warm, downy arm pits. This caused Patrick to literally scream in a pitch higher than most guys can reach, and he pulled furiously against his bonds:
"AAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHH....... HAW HAW HAW HAWHAWHAWHAW!!! NOOOOOO!!! S-STOP!! OH GOD OH G- HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAA PLLLLEEEEEEAAAASSSSEEEE HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!"
Next, Brian moved to Patrick's feet. He unlaced Patrick's size 12 1/2 Nike football shoes, grasped each one by the heel, and pulled them off in one fluid motion. His socks were sweaty, and they clung to the shape of his feet. Brian thought his heart was going to beat out of his chest as he slowly peeled the socks off.
(End of part 1)
Also present at the school that evening was Brian Harvey, a lanky, red-haired lad who had long suffered under Patrick's tyranny. He was a taciturn, bespectacled boy who preferred books over sports. Naturally, he was an easy target for Patrick, who picked on him ruthlessly. One time, he and some of his buddies threw poor Brian out of the locker room while he was clad in only his gym shorts, and locked the door. The people in the hall pointed and laughed at Brian's predicament, and took pictures.
In spite of all this abuse, Brian secretly fantasized about Patrick; he would often steal lingering glances at him in the locker room while he undressed. Brian also had a fetish for tickling; ever since he was a kid, he fantasized about tickling guys. One time in the locker room, while secretly watching Patrick undress, he thought of how much fun it would be to get his hands on him and tickle him out of his wits. The thought made him so horny that he began to get a hard on, which he was able to partially conceal with the aid of a towel. Speaking of towels, it was Brian's job to collect all the dirty towels in the locker room, put them in a large bin, and transport them to the laundry room. He was also qualified to tend to minor sports injuries.
As the team celebrated in the locker room, Brian went about the business of collecting discarded towels and placing them in the laundry bin. Over the next hour or so, most of the players had gone home. Eventually, just Patrick and one of his buddies, Travis, remained in the locker room- and they were just as drunk and loud as can be.
Patrick sat, barechested, on a piece of exercise equipment which was basically a cushioned seat, which allowed the legs to rest horizontally, and which had weighted handle bars above it to exercise the arms. He and his buddy traded lewd remarks about some girls in the school, and raucous laughter. All of a sudden, Patrick called out to Brian: "Hey dork, get over here!"
Brian froze in fear.
"I think I sprained my wrist during the game; get over here and take a look at it," Patrick said.
Brian grabbed a large roll of ACE bandages and nervously walked over. Patrick presented his right hand to be examined; it didn't look injured at all. Suddenly, Brian got an idea.
"Let me check your other wrist, too.... Yeah, I need to bandage both of them. Lift up both your hands, right next to these handle bars."
With amazing dexterity, Brian tied Patrick's hands together, and then secured them to the handle-bars with a sturdy square knot. Before it registered with Patrick's drunken brain what happened, Brian swiftly tied both his ankles as well.
Patrick was shocked: "HEY, WHAT THE-" he spluttered.
Brian's heart began to beat rapidly as he stood back and watched Patrick futiley tugging his arms and legs against the well-tied bandages. Evidently, Travis found his friend's predicament to be great entertainment, as he was laughing his head off.
"Hey, this isn't funny, Shit-Head!" Patrick shouted. "Lemme go!"
Brian positioned himself behind his captive, and slowly traced his finger tips up his bare sides. This caused Patrick to shout something inarticulate and pull furiously against his bonds.
"Looks like someone's ticklish!" said Brian with wicked glee. Patrick uttered something vaguely obscene in reply. Patrick's buddy Travis, who apparently found his ticklish predicament to be great entertainment, reached into his duffel bag and pulled out a cam corder.
"W-What the hell are you doin' with THAT?" asked Patrick dimly.
"What do ya think?" replied Travis dryly, as he turned on the cam-corder. "Do ya really think I would pass up on an opportunity to film you gettin' tickled like a bitch?"
Brian dug his fingers deep into Patrick's warm, downy arm pits. This caused Patrick to literally scream in a pitch higher than most guys can reach, and he pulled furiously against his bonds:
"AAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHH....... HAW HAW HAW HAWHAWHAWHAW!!! NOOOOOO!!! S-STOP!! OH GOD OH G- HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAA PLLLLEEEEEEAAAASSSSEEEE HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!"
Next, Brian moved to Patrick's feet. He unlaced Patrick's size 12 1/2 Nike football shoes, grasped each one by the heel, and pulled them off in one fluid motion. His socks were sweaty, and they clung to the shape of his feet. Brian thought his heart was going to beat out of his chest as he slowly peeled the socks off.
(End of part 1)
