As the kicker on a football team, Dale rarely felt like he fit in. He didn’t look like the other guys. Dale was rarely in the weight room, and didn’t have a body of rippling muscles. He looked more like the towel boy then a football player! On Saturday, he didn’t have to knock heads with gigantic linemen. Most games, no one even touched him. On one rainy afternoon, Dale’s had been the only white uniform in the entire locker room! The morning after a game, when his teammates bodies were bruised and beaten, Dale’s rarely had a scratch on it.
No, if football was war, Dale was definitely the clerk in the supply room. And his teammates never let him forget it. Most of the locker room jokes were made at his expense.
Unless, of course, his right foot had just won the ball game, like it had yesterday. Then he was the hero of the hour. Dale would never forget that feeling, walking on to the field with 4 seconds on the clock. He could feel the tension of the crowd and see the anxiety in the eyes of his teammates. All these behemoths, pleading for the smallest guy on the team to pull out a victory.
And Dale would never forget the sensation of pure joy as the ball came off his right foot perfectly and sailed through the goalposts. Being hugged by his teammates, truly being apart of the celebration. No, Dale would never forget his one, shining moment.
It was everything after that that was fuzzy.
Dale had dim memories of the locker room afterward, of drinking Champaign right from the bottle. He definitely remembered the cheerleaders gathering around him, leaving with a blond under one arm and a brunette under the other…then…nothing.
As Dale lay in a strange bed, staring at a room he’d never seen in his life, he suddenly found those missing memories quite important.
Oh, Dale could guess. Since he was almost naked, wearing only red briefs and, strangely enough a pair of anklets, he must have gotten lucky with one of the cheerleaders. Except…shouldn’t a cheerleaders room be filled with cute, girly things, posters of movie stars, stuffed animals and frilly knick knacks? The room Dale found himself in was absolutely barren. Other than the bed, there was no other furniture, not a dresser or even a chair. The walls were plain white. No knick knacks of any kind, frilly or plain. Even the bed had no blanket or even sheets. Dale had been sleeping on the bare mattress.
Bending down, Dale examined the band of gold wrapped around each ankle. Maybe they would give him a clue. No inscription or markings of any kind. Dale tried to remove one of the anklets, but he couldn’t figure out how. There was no clasp or even a hook. Not knowing where he was or why he was there, Dale didn’t want to just rip it off. He’d probably break it and upset his hostess.
“Hello?” Dale called out, “Honey?” he added just to be safe. There was no answer. Great, what was he to do? His clothes were missing, so Dale just couldn’t open the door and walk out of the room, could he? He was practically hanging out of the red briefs he was wearing! What if Grandma was eating breakfast at the table, or the mysterious cheerleaders NRA loving dad was cleaning his guns? Having no idea what was outside that door, Dale definitely didn’t want to face it almost naked.
He cried out a few more times, but there was still no answer. Looked like he would have to open the door. There had to be something he could cover himself with. But there wasn’t, not even a pillow! Oh well! At least this would make a great story. The guys on the team would roll with laughter when he told them this one. Dale hopped out of bed and walked over to the door.
Face already red with the embarrassment he was sure was coming, Dale turned to doorknob. Locked! Dale barely realized this when he heard a buzzing noise, like a swarm of angry bees. Then the carpeted floor beneath his bare feet began vibrating. The carpet fibers started dancing over his bare soles, feeling like thousands of crawling ants.
“he eheh eheheh ehe heh no no no no heh eheh….” Dale stared giggling like a little girl, lifting up one foot, then the other. The bristly strands tickled like crazy! Soon, Dale was doing some kind of insane Mexican hat dance, hopping wildly one foot, then the other. He couldn’t help himself! Soon, Dale dove back to the safety of the bed.
“No, no, no,” a strange female voice came from the walls, “Bad little boys mustn’t touch the door. Mama will punish you.”
What the hell? What kind of sick game was he in the middle of Dale wondered.
“Hey, listen, I don’t know what happened last night,” Dale started out, holding one of recently tormented feet in his hands, “I’m sure it was great and all, but I’ve got to get to football practice.” There was no answer.
This had to be some kind of kinky game. Who had he gone home with anyways, some kind of cheerleader by day dominatrix by night? Soon, Dale figured, whoever she was would realize Dale wasn’t playing any longer. Then she’d let him out, probably full of apologies as she did. Until then, he had nothing to do but wait.
The first thing Dale did was check his feet. As a kicker, Dale was very superstitious about them. Any cut, any mark, a hangnail, even a bad patch of dry skin could cause him to slide into a dreadful slump. It had happened before. Once, in high school, Dale had gotten a callous on his big toe. He didn’t make another kick for the rest of the season. Deep down, Dale knew a callous couldn’t change the way he kicked. His shoe hit the ball, not his bare toes! But deep down Dale believed it. And in sports, anything you believed that strongly had a way of coming true. That was why Dale had a pedicure every week, even though he would have died rather than tell his teammates.
No, Dale’s feet were still perfect. Maybe too perfect, too Silky smooth! He could almost wish for a nasty patch of flaky skin right now. It would help protect him from that tickling carpet!
Then Dale’s patience won and he heard a click come from the door. It must be unlocked! Dale jumped out of the bed again, determined to escape the room.
No sooner did his toes touch the ground then Dale felt the carpet start squirming again. This time, Dale was ready. He hop-scotched across the carpeting, covering the distance between bed and door in three leaps. Even then, he had to keep his teeth clenched against the ticklish sensations that shot up his leg every time his foot hit the ground. But he made it!
Dale threw open the door, prepared to make one last leap into the hall, but someone stood in his way, blocking the doorway. A girl, close to his age, but not a cheerleader. She was a little too short, her body a little too slender and her auburn hair, done up in a long pony tail, too out of fashion. Dale froze for a second, trying to remember where he had seen her.
That was a mistake. The floor kept vibrating, and the strands of carpet started wiggling between his toes and scratching down Dale’s instep. Laughter flowed from between his stunned lips as he again began bouncing up and down, first on his left foot, then his right.
“He ehehe ehehe eheh eheeh ehee helllllppp ehehheheh ehehehh mehehehe pleaassee eheh e eheh eheh,” Dale giggled, reaching out for the girl, wanting nothing more than to get her out of the way so he could make it to safety.
The girl had other ideas. She reached out to him, not to help, but to tickle. Her fingers found Dale’s unprotected ribcage and started squeezing. The new tickle started flooding through Dale’s body. He instinctively took a step backward, tried to bring his arms down to protect himself.
It was no use. The constant tickling on his feet made Dale clumsy and uncoordinated. The girl’s hands moved quickly, easily avoiding Dale’s awkward attempts to defend himself. Fingers poked into his side, others raked across his belly. Then they twirled in his underarm for a second before scampering across his chest.
“HE EHE ooohh hhoho hohoho nawwooohoho what are hoho you doing hohoho stawwwpppp hohoo HEEE!” Dale kept taking baby steps backward, not wanting to move back into the bedroom, but having no choice. Tickled above and below left Dale unable to focus on avoiding either. Dale’s feet seemed to grow heavy, stuck to the maidenly vibrating floor, unable to rise into the air. The tickling between hi toes grew worse and worse.
The girls assault became worse as well. One hand was now firmly grabbing his hip, fingers drilling into the bony spot right above the waistline of Dale’s red briefs. The other kept wiggling across his belly, prodding into the tender flesh despite all Dale could do to stop it.
“Mama said you would be punished if you touched the door again,” the girl said, her tickling hands never slowing.
Dale could feel his knees turning into jell-o. He had to do something, fast! However, with the rug vibrating beneath his feet, tickling his toes, he just couldn’t concentrate enough. He couldn’t focus enough to stop her damn hands nevertheless attack her back!
Then it happened. Dale’s legs just gave out, and he was lying on the ground, exhausted. There was, however, no rest for the wicked. Now half his body was touching the carpet, covered with vibrating tickling carpet fibers! Dale felt countless tickles on his back, his legs and, through the thin briefs he was wearing, his bottom.
Dale turned over instinctively, hoping for mercy, only to have his belly, knees and privates assaulted by the wiggling strands. Turning again just made the other side of Dale’s body erupt in ticklishness!
“HAH AHAHAHAH AGAAAAWWWDD AHAH AHAHHAHAH MERCCCYYHEHEHEH EHE EHEHE EHEH CANAHAHAHNNN’TTT STAAHAHAHNNND AH AHAHHAHAH!!!“ Soon Dale could only thrash about, rolling back and forth like he was on fire and desperate to smother the flames. The girl watched for awhile, listening to his hysterical pleas. He looked, she thought to her self, like a worm dangling from a hook, twisting and turning his body as if it could enable him to avoid his fate.
Eventually, she decided that Dale had had enough, and she shut the carpet off. He lie there like a drowning victim, weak and gasping for air. It took several minutes before he became aware of his surroundings again, and that the girl was still standing their and watching. He looked up at her, words hovering at his lips.
“Get on the bed,” she said before Dale could talk, “Or Mama will turn the tickles on again.”
Dale could only nod his head. His arms and legs felt like wet noodles, making climbing onto the bed seem more like climbing a mountain, but after a few failed attempts, Dale did just that. He couldn’t believe how worn out the tickling had left him! He felt like he’d just spent an entire practice running laps and doing calisthenics!
“Now,” said the strange girl, “Stay in that bed and you won’t be punished…for a little while at least.” Her cute mouth broke into an evil grin.
“Please,” said Dale at last, “I…I don’t want to play this game. I just want to leave.”
“Oh, its no game,” the girl’s grin turned into a smirk, “Someone has to pay for the way your Neanderthal teammates treats me and all women. It might as well be you, Dale. You won’t be leaving here, I think, for a long time.”
With that, the girl left the room, closing the door behind her. Dale could hear the lock click.
What to do? He was sure if he stepped on the carpet the damn tickling would start again. With the door locked, what would be the point in trying to escape? No, all Dale could do was wait, wait and try to remember who that strange girl was!
.
No, if football was war, Dale was definitely the clerk in the supply room. And his teammates never let him forget it. Most of the locker room jokes were made at his expense.
Unless, of course, his right foot had just won the ball game, like it had yesterday. Then he was the hero of the hour. Dale would never forget that feeling, walking on to the field with 4 seconds on the clock. He could feel the tension of the crowd and see the anxiety in the eyes of his teammates. All these behemoths, pleading for the smallest guy on the team to pull out a victory.
And Dale would never forget the sensation of pure joy as the ball came off his right foot perfectly and sailed through the goalposts. Being hugged by his teammates, truly being apart of the celebration. No, Dale would never forget his one, shining moment.
It was everything after that that was fuzzy.
Dale had dim memories of the locker room afterward, of drinking Champaign right from the bottle. He definitely remembered the cheerleaders gathering around him, leaving with a blond under one arm and a brunette under the other…then…nothing.
As Dale lay in a strange bed, staring at a room he’d never seen in his life, he suddenly found those missing memories quite important.
Oh, Dale could guess. Since he was almost naked, wearing only red briefs and, strangely enough a pair of anklets, he must have gotten lucky with one of the cheerleaders. Except…shouldn’t a cheerleaders room be filled with cute, girly things, posters of movie stars, stuffed animals and frilly knick knacks? The room Dale found himself in was absolutely barren. Other than the bed, there was no other furniture, not a dresser or even a chair. The walls were plain white. No knick knacks of any kind, frilly or plain. Even the bed had no blanket or even sheets. Dale had been sleeping on the bare mattress.
Bending down, Dale examined the band of gold wrapped around each ankle. Maybe they would give him a clue. No inscription or markings of any kind. Dale tried to remove one of the anklets, but he couldn’t figure out how. There was no clasp or even a hook. Not knowing where he was or why he was there, Dale didn’t want to just rip it off. He’d probably break it and upset his hostess.
“Hello?” Dale called out, “Honey?” he added just to be safe. There was no answer. Great, what was he to do? His clothes were missing, so Dale just couldn’t open the door and walk out of the room, could he? He was practically hanging out of the red briefs he was wearing! What if Grandma was eating breakfast at the table, or the mysterious cheerleaders NRA loving dad was cleaning his guns? Having no idea what was outside that door, Dale definitely didn’t want to face it almost naked.
He cried out a few more times, but there was still no answer. Looked like he would have to open the door. There had to be something he could cover himself with. But there wasn’t, not even a pillow! Oh well! At least this would make a great story. The guys on the team would roll with laughter when he told them this one. Dale hopped out of bed and walked over to the door.
Face already red with the embarrassment he was sure was coming, Dale turned to doorknob. Locked! Dale barely realized this when he heard a buzzing noise, like a swarm of angry bees. Then the carpeted floor beneath his bare feet began vibrating. The carpet fibers started dancing over his bare soles, feeling like thousands of crawling ants.
“he eheh eheheh ehe heh no no no no heh eheh….” Dale stared giggling like a little girl, lifting up one foot, then the other. The bristly strands tickled like crazy! Soon, Dale was doing some kind of insane Mexican hat dance, hopping wildly one foot, then the other. He couldn’t help himself! Soon, Dale dove back to the safety of the bed.
“No, no, no,” a strange female voice came from the walls, “Bad little boys mustn’t touch the door. Mama will punish you.”
What the hell? What kind of sick game was he in the middle of Dale wondered.
“Hey, listen, I don’t know what happened last night,” Dale started out, holding one of recently tormented feet in his hands, “I’m sure it was great and all, but I’ve got to get to football practice.” There was no answer.
This had to be some kind of kinky game. Who had he gone home with anyways, some kind of cheerleader by day dominatrix by night? Soon, Dale figured, whoever she was would realize Dale wasn’t playing any longer. Then she’d let him out, probably full of apologies as she did. Until then, he had nothing to do but wait.
The first thing Dale did was check his feet. As a kicker, Dale was very superstitious about them. Any cut, any mark, a hangnail, even a bad patch of dry skin could cause him to slide into a dreadful slump. It had happened before. Once, in high school, Dale had gotten a callous on his big toe. He didn’t make another kick for the rest of the season. Deep down, Dale knew a callous couldn’t change the way he kicked. His shoe hit the ball, not his bare toes! But deep down Dale believed it. And in sports, anything you believed that strongly had a way of coming true. That was why Dale had a pedicure every week, even though he would have died rather than tell his teammates.
No, Dale’s feet were still perfect. Maybe too perfect, too Silky smooth! He could almost wish for a nasty patch of flaky skin right now. It would help protect him from that tickling carpet!
Then Dale’s patience won and he heard a click come from the door. It must be unlocked! Dale jumped out of the bed again, determined to escape the room.
No sooner did his toes touch the ground then Dale felt the carpet start squirming again. This time, Dale was ready. He hop-scotched across the carpeting, covering the distance between bed and door in three leaps. Even then, he had to keep his teeth clenched against the ticklish sensations that shot up his leg every time his foot hit the ground. But he made it!
Dale threw open the door, prepared to make one last leap into the hall, but someone stood in his way, blocking the doorway. A girl, close to his age, but not a cheerleader. She was a little too short, her body a little too slender and her auburn hair, done up in a long pony tail, too out of fashion. Dale froze for a second, trying to remember where he had seen her.
That was a mistake. The floor kept vibrating, and the strands of carpet started wiggling between his toes and scratching down Dale’s instep. Laughter flowed from between his stunned lips as he again began bouncing up and down, first on his left foot, then his right.
“He ehehe ehehe eheh eheeh ehee helllllppp ehehheheh ehehehh mehehehe pleaassee eheh e eheh eheh,” Dale giggled, reaching out for the girl, wanting nothing more than to get her out of the way so he could make it to safety.
The girl had other ideas. She reached out to him, not to help, but to tickle. Her fingers found Dale’s unprotected ribcage and started squeezing. The new tickle started flooding through Dale’s body. He instinctively took a step backward, tried to bring his arms down to protect himself.
It was no use. The constant tickling on his feet made Dale clumsy and uncoordinated. The girl’s hands moved quickly, easily avoiding Dale’s awkward attempts to defend himself. Fingers poked into his side, others raked across his belly. Then they twirled in his underarm for a second before scampering across his chest.
“HE EHE ooohh hhoho hohoho nawwooohoho what are hoho you doing hohoho stawwwpppp hohoo HEEE!” Dale kept taking baby steps backward, not wanting to move back into the bedroom, but having no choice. Tickled above and below left Dale unable to focus on avoiding either. Dale’s feet seemed to grow heavy, stuck to the maidenly vibrating floor, unable to rise into the air. The tickling between hi toes grew worse and worse.
The girls assault became worse as well. One hand was now firmly grabbing his hip, fingers drilling into the bony spot right above the waistline of Dale’s red briefs. The other kept wiggling across his belly, prodding into the tender flesh despite all Dale could do to stop it.
“Mama said you would be punished if you touched the door again,” the girl said, her tickling hands never slowing.
Dale could feel his knees turning into jell-o. He had to do something, fast! However, with the rug vibrating beneath his feet, tickling his toes, he just couldn’t concentrate enough. He couldn’t focus enough to stop her damn hands nevertheless attack her back!
Then it happened. Dale’s legs just gave out, and he was lying on the ground, exhausted. There was, however, no rest for the wicked. Now half his body was touching the carpet, covered with vibrating tickling carpet fibers! Dale felt countless tickles on his back, his legs and, through the thin briefs he was wearing, his bottom.
Dale turned over instinctively, hoping for mercy, only to have his belly, knees and privates assaulted by the wiggling strands. Turning again just made the other side of Dale’s body erupt in ticklishness!
“HAH AHAHAHAH AGAAAAWWWDD AHAH AHAHHAHAH MERCCCYYHEHEHEH EHE EHEHE EHEH CANAHAHAHNNN’TTT STAAHAHAHNNND AH AHAHHAHAH!!!“ Soon Dale could only thrash about, rolling back and forth like he was on fire and desperate to smother the flames. The girl watched for awhile, listening to his hysterical pleas. He looked, she thought to her self, like a worm dangling from a hook, twisting and turning his body as if it could enable him to avoid his fate.
Eventually, she decided that Dale had had enough, and she shut the carpet off. He lie there like a drowning victim, weak and gasping for air. It took several minutes before he became aware of his surroundings again, and that the girl was still standing their and watching. He looked up at her, words hovering at his lips.
“Get on the bed,” she said before Dale could talk, “Or Mama will turn the tickles on again.”
Dale could only nod his head. His arms and legs felt like wet noodles, making climbing onto the bed seem more like climbing a mountain, but after a few failed attempts, Dale did just that. He couldn’t believe how worn out the tickling had left him! He felt like he’d just spent an entire practice running laps and doing calisthenics!
“Now,” said the strange girl, “Stay in that bed and you won’t be punished…for a little while at least.” Her cute mouth broke into an evil grin.
“Please,” said Dale at last, “I…I don’t want to play this game. I just want to leave.”
“Oh, its no game,” the girl’s grin turned into a smirk, “Someone has to pay for the way your Neanderthal teammates treats me and all women. It might as well be you, Dale. You won’t be leaving here, I think, for a long time.”
With that, the girl left the room, closing the door behind her. Dale could hear the lock click.
What to do? He was sure if he stepped on the carpet the damn tickling would start again. With the door locked, what would be the point in trying to escape? No, all Dale could do was wait, wait and try to remember who that strange girl was!
.
