Enjoy!

It should be noted in case of confusion, that what you are about to read, is fiction.

By johnism2

Lawless Afghanistan
February 9, 2003 – More than 1,000 Al Qaeda fighters remain holed up in Afghanistan’s Arma Mountains in well-stocked caves with neon tube lights, wood stoves and VCRs, according a man who says he has just returned from spending more than a week with the fighters.
In a four hour interview with our reporter, Abdul Rahman Hessian says he provided the Al Qaeda troops with a satellite dish and receiving antenna, a radio, tea, sugar, candies, flour and fruit. He says that most of the fighters, who are living in caves around the village of Rah-i-Kot, are Afghans, but that the group includes many Chechens and Arabs, including a “tall Arab” with sunglasses. Hessian said the man was not bin Laden, but was being treated deferentially by the others. “They were kissing his hand,” Hessian says.
Hessian arrived today in Ramdez after leaving the caves. He says he was told to deliver a message to local officials working with American commanders in the region: Al Qaeda fighters won’t surrender. “They want to either win the war or be martyred,” says Hessian.
It is impossible to independently verify Hessian’s account, or even to confirm that he was in the caves. He was visibly frightened during the interview at a local restaurant, insisting that the door be locked. He claimed his story began last weekend, when he was kidnapped by Al Qaeda fighters in the town of Kezalgo, about an hour south of Ramdez, when they caught him setting up a satellite dish for a local man. They took him by car to Rah-i-Kot, reprimanding him for the “un-Islamic” practice of providing satellite technology.
But later in the interview, Hessian, who works as a television technician, admitted that the fighters merely wanted him to help set up their own satellite television connection so that they could watch the Al Jazeera news network on a 14-inch television they had set up in one of their caves. “They just wanted me to bring a satellite receiver,” says Hessian, “They didn’t care about Sharia (Islamic) law at all.”
Hessian claims he was taken to a vast cave complex by a group of Arabs just before the battle broke out a little more than a week ago. “They took me to [caves] where we couldn’t hear the bombs. When more people came, they took me to another cave.” In one of the caves, Hessian claimed he saw seven Afghan prisoners tied and bound with rope.
In another cave, a very short Afghan fighter with Asian features who Hessian thinks may have been Chechen was tormenting a muscular foreign prisoner. Hessian thinks that the powerfully built hostage was one of the soldiers of fortune that work as a private army in the lawless Afghan outskirts. He had seen such mercenaries before. The foreign mercenaries tended to be extremely large muscle bound men, often dishonorably discharged members of Western military special forces, who were loyal to anyone who would pay them but exceeding cruel to anyone who got in their way. The local tribes were frequently victims of the crimes of roving bands of soldiers of fortune. Most locals viewed these private armies as nothing more than gangs of thugs. Their actions made it hard for any legitimate Western force to gain the trust of the local tribes.
The Afghan fighters had somehow separated this particular mercenary from both his private army and his weapons. The foreigner was a very tall and very muscular man with closely cropped blond hair cut like a military haircut. When Hessian was first brought into the cave, a group of Afghan fighters had the powerfully built mercenary pinned to the floor of the cave and were beating him. Between punches, the Arabs began to pull off the Western’s camouflage clothing. Hessian said the Western soldier’s well developed upper body was helpless against the Arab men who had greatly outnumbered the soldier of fortune. While the some of the group focused on stripping the man to his bare chest, other Arabs sat on him trying to pull his pants down his legs. The weight of the Afghan captors had pinned the soldier’s brawny legs to the ground. The little Chechen man with the Asian features focused his attack on the gigantic Westerner’s sand colored boots. With surprising speed, the small man unlaced the lengthy shoelaces that held the mercenary’s extremely large boots in place. The tiny fighter skillfully pulled the paramilitary boots off the violently kicking feet of the thrashing captive. The muscle bound prisoner was so preoccupied with the attack on his upper body that he seemed only dimly aware that his large boots had been stolen off his feet. Having stripped the mercenary to his bare chest, some of the Arabs stretched out the soldier’s long powerful limbs while other fighters continued trying to pulling off his pants. Hessian watched as the tiny Chechen fighter continued his assault on the toppled soldier’s big feet. The little man exhibited surprising strength as he trapped one of the prisoner’s wildly flailing feet under his skinny arm. With the lightening speed of an experienced thief, the small Chechen stripped the thick sock off the outnumbered soldier’s foot and stuffed it in his pocket. It was at this point that Hessian knew that this captured soldier of fortune must be an extremely large man. Hessian said the Western mercenary’s bare foot seemed enormous in contrast to the small man who had stolen his sock. The little Chechen quickly stripped off the sock from the Westerner’s other foot. The soldier of fortune’s bare feet stuck out from beneath the pile of Arab men who were beating him as they stripped off his uniform.
The Arab fighters eventually stripped the huge muscular man naked, wrapped his powerfully built body in tight rope bondage and left the towering prisoner lying helpless on the cave floor. The captured prisoner struggled mightily to escape but the battle hardened Afghans had securely bound the strapping captive. Hessian believes the hostage must have been well over six feet three inches tall with a huge frame that carried well over 200 pounds of solid muscle. Even so, the ropes had been so securely wrapped that strong body of the wildly struggling fighter could barely move the rope cocoon that imprisoned him. Only the hostage’s head and bare feet protruded from the ropes that immobilized his colossal body.
While the rest of the group walked off with the foreigner’s boots and clothes, the small Chechen fighter wrapped himself tightly around the prisoner’s bound ankles. The stringy Arab trapped the big bare feet of the toppled soldier of fortune between his skinny legs. While the tall prisoner thrashed in useless attempts to escape the tight rope cocoon, the Chechen began to torment the foreigner’s large feet. With an evil sneer on his face, the small man began to twist the prisoner’s bare feet into painful positions and bend back his large toes. Hessian figures that at some point when the little Chechen was handling the prisoner’s bare feet, he realized the fallen warrior had an unusual weakness. Suddenly and inexplicably, the little fighter began to torture the colossal prisoner by running his fingernails over the bottoms of his victim’s huge bare feet. The well-built hostage twitched and jerked like he was being electrocuted as the little tormenter stroked the pale soles of his bare feet. The Western captive alternated between shouting with sudden outbursts of profanity and erupting with sudden outbursts of laughter. The tiny Chechen man looked scornful that a widely feared soldier of fortune, such a massively well built man, could be ticklish. With a derisive smirk, the little fighter patiently continued to rythmatically stroke the wide pale soles of the toppled Westerner’s large bare feet. The little Chechen’s efforts paid off as soon the brawny prisoner began to unceasingly howl with a hysterical forced laughter. Hessian was mesmerized by sight of a little man taking total control of the powerful body of huge muscle bound prisoner just by effortlessly tracing his dirty fingernails up and down the bottoms of the mercenary’s large bare feet.
Evidently the Afghans had seen the little Chechen torture other hostages in this manner as most of the other fighters drifted off to various locations within the caves. Even though the other Afghans were apathetic about the captured foreigner’s ordeal, Hessian was transfixed as he watched the little Chechen continue his persecution of the much bigger captive. The wildly struggling mercenary was unable to escape the torments of the little hands that were continuously stroking the pale bottoms of his bare feet. Hessian states the tiny man never paused in his relentless assault on his enormous victim. The Westerner’s face became covered with sweat and his mouth was wide open with nonstop forced laughter. The Chechen’s tiny hands incessantly explored the big feet of the helpless Western mercenary searching for the soldier’s weakest points. Every time Hessian thought the prisoner had reached his limit of endurance, the little Chechen would find new more sensitive areas of the soldier’s bare feet that had even more torturous impacts on the gigantic victim. Hessian reported that the hostage’s deep hysterical laughter became so loud that it actually vibrated off the cave walls. The Chechen’s tiny hands moved continuously, stroking the big man’s heels, scribbling across his arches and scratching the prisoner’s large toes. Hessian reported the duration of the unending fits of strained frantic laughter indicated the hostage’s large feet were exceptionally ticklish. And the toppled soldier of fortune was unable to stop the tiny tormentor who was exploiting his vulnerability to sadistically torture the fallen warrior. Hessian said that the blond captive’s face flushed a deep red and his hair was matted with sweat while non stop laughter streamed from his wide open mouth. The little Chechen studied the pained look on the soldier’s face, split with by a twisted diabolic grin, yet never slowed his assault on the mercenary’s bare feet. The ongoing assault was weakening the powerful man as his struggling to escape the rope cocoon grew feeble. His roaring laughter was so continuous and the rope cocoon so tight that it was obvious the mercenary was having trouble breathing. The tiny Chechen showed no mercy. As the struggles of the muscle bound captive grew weak, the Chechen only tightened his grip on victim’s big feet and vigorously continued his unending assault on the much bigger soldier. Hessian said after about another hour of this torment, while the Chechen was scratching at the big man’s toes, the blond soldier finally passed out.
The Chechen continued to stroke the prisoner’s bare feet for a few more minutes but got no response. An unexpected look of rage covered the little man’s face. He went to the prisoner’s head and slapped him a few times. The mercenary was out cold. Hessian watched as the tiny Chechen returned to the soldier’s bare feet. The little man bit down on each of the foreigner’s big toes and then painfully twisted the small toes of the prisoner. The motionless victim did not respond to the pain. Hessian thought the captive’s comatose state had given the towering man an escape from the little tormentor. But even slipping into unconsciousness provided only a temporary reprieve for the fallen soldier of fortune. The tiny Chechen let go of the prisoner’s bare feet and walked to a corner of the cave. For a few moments, he rummaged through boxes until he found what looked like thick drum sticks. Then the little man hurried back to the spot where the unresponsive soldier lay motionless in the rope cocoon. The little Chechen again wrapped his legs around the gigantic prisoner’s sturdy ankles. The upturned soles of the mercenary’s bare feet lay unprotected in the skinny Chechen’s lap. As Hessian was lead from the cave, the small man began beating the much bigger soldier on the soles of his bare feet with wooden batons.
During the next few days, Hessian says he was moved from room to room throughout the cave complex, which he described as having “several entrances” and 200-square-foot rooms linked by tunnels. He says the caves are lit with “solar electric generator systems” and that many of the rooms are heated with wood stoves partitioned off with wooden walls and plastic sheeting to keep at least part of the room free of smoke. Hessian says he was freed to send the message that the fighters will never surrender.
Hessian’s report comes as Afghan commanders in Gardez have said they will try to negotiate with the Al Qaeda fighters before launching another attack.

(From http://forums.tklfrat.com/viewtopic.php?f=2&t=114)

The weather was cold and slightly snowy at Smithsville University as the students who attended there were making their way home for the holiday break. Most students had gone home on Friday of the last week of classes, but two students in particular remained on campus. Ryan Carry who was 6 foot tall, 195 pounds, and his cousin Billy 5’10 170, had to stay up because they played on the University hockey team, and had a game the night before. The two cousins were enjoying a great freshman year on the team, and at the school. They loved the parties, the girls, and being away from home. But they needed a break from the grind, and were waiting for Ryan’s dad, Jack, to pick the two 19 year olds up and take them back home for the break.
Jack arrived at their dorm at around 1 o’clock in his Range Rover, he loved showing it off when he could. He was a very wealthy guy, and owner of his own business. Standing 6 foot 2, he was very in shape and a good looking guy. Something that his son Ryan was happy to inherit. “Hey Dad, thanks for coming to get us.” Said Ryan. “No problem, good to see you guys. How was the game?” asked Jack. “we won 4-1.” Said Billy, “we both scored once.” “Nice work guys. Lets get on the road because we have a long trip here.”
Jack helped them put the bags in the truck and they started on their way. A three hour trip was not something the three men were looking forward to, but they had to get going. On the way home, the three relatives discussed the semester. The good and bad things that have gone on. Although the two young guys were loving college life, it was good to be going home and catching up with Jack, their father and uncle.
The snow was starting to come down a little harder about halfway through, so Jack was really focusing on the road. It wasn’t getting hard to see, but he was being cautious. All of the sudden there was a loud bang. The expensive truck started to skid, and Jack guided it over to the side of the road. “Damnit! We blew a god damn tire, this is just great” said Jack. He began to reach for his cell phone to call triple A, since he had no spare. Then out of nowhere, almost on que, a black BMW pulled up along side of them.
“You need some help there guy?” yelled a scummy looking man from inside the car. “Yea we blew a tire, do you know anything near here that could help us out?” asked Jack. “Just your luck fellas, I own a gas station right up the road, hop in and I’ll take you guys there!” The three men in the Range Rover were relieved. They were hoping to get out of this jam quickly and this dirty guy in the beamer seemed to be the ticket.
“Well I’m Opie, who are you all and where yas going? Said the driver. Jack explained who they all were and where they were going as they pulled up to the gas station. “Just wait here, I’ll send out my assistant to go tow your truck.” Said Opie. Ryan, Billy and Jack were happy with the situation. They sat around and talked some more as they waited. After about 20 minutes they realized that Opie hadn’t been back for a while. “I’ll go look for him” said Jack. H walked around the gas station trying to find an office or somewhere Opie would be. He stumbled into a dark room. It had chairs set up with what looked like old time stocks. Before he could say or do anything, something came over his mouth. It was Opie with a rag of chloroform. The 49 year old man fought the drug. He was very strong, but he had already inhaled a great deal of chloroform. He began to get sleepy. Soon the wealthy man closed his eyes and gave in to the drug. He was ou
t like a light.
10 minutes later Opie had a gun. He walked into the waiting room where the two college studs were sitting. They were shocked. “What the fuck are you doing dude!??” yelled Billy. “where’s my uncle Jack?” “He’s in the other room waiting for us. Let’s go up with you boys.” Said Opie. The two cousins did as they were told, since this guy had a gun they had no choice. He took them back into the room with the stocks. The looked up and saw Jack, tied up with his legs through the holes in the stocks. “What the hell is going on here?” Yelled Ryan, he was in disbelief to see his dad like that. “Shut up and sit down, just like him.” Opie told them. They did, and the hick began to tie the young men up real tight, just like Ryan’s dad. Soon all three of them were helpless. Jack began to wake up. “Let me up right now you fucking freak! What is it that you want???? I demand that you tell me!” Jack yelled, trying to sound like he was in control while he was in front of his son and newphew. “Yea you pussy, why the fuck do you have us like this??” asked Billy.
“It’s very simple gentlemen. If you hadn’t noticed, I don’t look like I have much money, but I do. I drive the best cars, live in a big house, and eat at the best places. This is because I capture people, wealthy people like yourselves and get their personal information out of them. I don’t let them leave until I have their Social Security number, bank account information, the whole nine yards.”
“You are fucking dreaming shit head.” Said Jack. “Yea dude, why the hell would we do that? Your outside of your mind.” Ryan told him, trying to back up his dad. “well many people have broken before you, and many will after you. And trust me, don’t try and act like you are a team or something because I’ll have all three of you against each other very soon” said Opie. The three men didn’t know what to think. What the hell could he mean. But by no means would they give up their information. There’s no way they could talk. Jack tried to remain calm. He didn’t want to seem weak in front of his son. The same could be said for Ryan and Billy. All of the Carry men were nervous, but didn’t want to show it.
“Ok so who wants to go first. I over heard that you are the cousin, so since these two are father and son, so I’ll save them for later.” Opie said. He approached Billy. The hockey player tried to remain tough. “What are you doing dude, get away from me. Don’t fucking touch me.” Opie smiled and said “I’m not gonna hurt you, but you are not going to like this.”
He reached down and pulled on the laces of Billy’s boot. Billy was confused and he struggled. “What the fuck dude?” he said. The boot came sliding off revealing a sweaty white ankle sock with gray toe and heel. Opie spoke again. “You guys will be find, and you prolly wont crack…that is if you’re not ticklish.” Father and son looked at each other, and then at Billy. He was so confused.
Before he could think or say a word Opie brough a finger down his sole. He jumped. “O shittttttt.hettt….” he said. “Looks like you are VERY ticklish big guy.” He ran a couple more fingers down the sweaty foot. “Damnithhehehe I’m not gonnanahehhehe laughahahhehe. I won’ttttttttalllllkkkhehehhe” Opie scrambled all of his fingers of the left foot of Billy and he lost it. “hehehehehhehe no no no hahahhahahahahahah HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH SHIT AHHAHAHAHAHAH STOP HAHAHAHHAHAHAHA I CANT hahhahahAHAHAHA I CAN”T TAKE ITHAHAHAHAHAHAH”
Jack and Ryan looked at each other again. Neither said a word, but Jack tried to give his son a look like everything would be ok. It was hard to do that with the laughter of his nephew filling the room. He looked back at Billy. His face was turning red. Jack knew this wasn’t good.
HAHAHAHAHA DEAR GOD STOP HAHAHHAHA NOT ME TOES HAHAHAHHAHA. Opie had slipped off the other boot. He was going both feet at once. Billy was losing control. HAHAHAHAHHAHAAHAHA STOP NO NO SHIT HAHAHAHAHAH GOD I’m TICKLISHHHHHH AHHAHHA. Opie stopped. He looked at Billy and said. “Ok Billy, I’ll stop tickling you for a little. But, you gotta tell me which one of these two guys to tickle next.” Jack and Ryan swallowed hard. Each didn’t want to show their weakness in front of each other.
Billy couldn’t believe it. He never would have though this dirty bastard could have broken him down to give up one of his relatives. But here he was, he didn’t want to crack about his info, so he shut his eyes and said “Ryan, tickle Ryan.” Opie laughed. Ryan was shocked. “Is Ryan ticklish Billy” Opie said dragging a finger down Billy’s foot. “hhhehe STOP hhahaha YES HES VERY TICKLISH. WE BOTH ARE. WE CAN”T STAND IT ON OUR FEET!!!” Billy was embarrassed as Opie walked over to his cousin. Ryan was sweating hard. “He’s lying man, I’m not ticklish. I’m just like my dad here, our family doesn’t give in to childish shit like this. We aren’t ticklish so just stop.” Opie didn’t really seem to care, he just started to unlace his Nike shoe. “We’ll I’ll judge that I think Ryan.” He pulled off the size 11 shoe to find a stinky foot. Skin tight gray and blue ankle sock. “WOW your feet stink. Let’s see if you lied to me a second ago shall we fella?” Opie said.
He didn’t tease him like he did to Billy, he just took his fingers and went up and down his sole. “HAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA HAHAH O MY GOD HAHAH O MY GOD HAHAHAH JESUS FUCKINAHAHAHA CHRISTHAHAHAHAH.” Ryan was hysterical. He was extremely ticklish on his feet. Billy was correct, he knew from earlier in the year when they were initiated onto the hockey team. Jack couldn’t stand to look at his son like this, he turned his head, but the laughter was loud and glorious. “AHAHAHAHAHA NOT MY FEET ANYWHERE BUT MY FEET HAHAHAHA GET AWAY FROM MY TOES HAHAHAHHA IM GONNA DIE HAHAHHAHAHA.” Opie was in heaven, he knew that the first two were gonna crack easily. “wow for hockey players you two sure are ticklish like babies. I thought that was a tough guy sport. I don’t see tough guys I see some ticklish tootsies though. Lets get this other sneaker off ticklish tough guy. Ryan couldn’t fight it, he was too ticklish HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAH JESUS HAHAHAHHA no NOT THAT ONE HAHAHAH THIS IS HAHAHA AWFUL HAHAHA.”
Then from the side of the room Jack yelled at Opie. “ENOUGH he can’t take it. Let him go. Let all of us go!” Opie stopped tickling Jack’s boy. He turned and said. OK Dad, its your turn. I hope for your sake he got those ticklish toes from his mother.” Both Ryan and Billy looked over. They had faith that Jack would over power Opie and get them out. He’s a strong guy. He’s Ryan’s hero, no way would he break. Jack was wearing some loafers with black dress socks. Opie made short work of his left shoe. He flexed his long toes. Opie took two fingers and started at the heels and brought them up slowly. Jack flinched, as the fingers got higher on the foot, a smith started to crack, then his teeth started to show. When the toes were hit, the 49 year old dad gave in to his ticklish feet. “no please. Stop pleaseesessese Not in front of my sonhehehehehe not in front of themhahahahahah Im ticklish boys im sorry hahahahahahahahahahaahhaha.” The two college boys looked on in disbelief. They were so ticklish on their feet, but not their dad/uncle. There he was though, giggling like a school girl. Soon it would get worse. “Tell them how ticklish you are JACK” laughed Opie. Jack was trying to stay in control. “hhehe go to hell you prick hehehehehehe ahahhahah o man hahahahhaahaha. Then Opie brought his fingers and went to town on the balls of his dress sock covered feet. This got to Jack. oK hahahahah im sorry IM VERY TICKLISH hahahahahah ON MY FEET HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOOOO HAHAHAHAHAHHAH HAHAHHA HEHEHEHEHEH HAHAHAH I’m SOOO TICKLISH TheRE I SAID ITHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHA BUT I WONT HAHAHA TELL YOU MY INFORMATION HAHAH NEVER HAHAHAH.
Opie stopped tickling the exhausted father. He looked around at the 6 ticklish feet in front of him. It was time to turn these men against each other. He dug right into Billy’s feet. HAHAHAHAHAHA JESUS WHAT DID I DO HAHAHAHAHHAHAH STOP HAHAHAHAHHEHEHEHEH NO NO HAHAHAHAH. “tell me your SS# Billy. If you do I’ll stop.” Billy’s will was weakening. HAHAHAHAHA OMG HAHAhAH NO FUCK FUCK HAHAHAH OK OK I”lL TALK HAHAHAHAH. He told Opie everything he knew. He gave him his credit cards and Social Security number. Opie then said “Ok, I lied, im going to keep tickling you. Unless you ticke Ryan.” Billy was exhausted, but he still refused. “FUCK you, no way, this is messed uhahahahahhahahHAHAHAHAHAHA OMG HAHAHAHAH NOOOOOHAHAHAHAHAH FINEEEEEE I’LL TICKLE THE SHIT OUTTA HIM HAHAHAHAH “ Opie stopped the tickling. He let Billy up and held the gun to him. He said “ listen, you need to let him have it or your right back in the chair.” His plan was working. This people were caving. 1 down 2 more to go.
Ryan started to panic. Billy sat down at his socked feet. “Billy no man, come on its me. Don’t do this. “Dude I’m sorry, I have to.” With that, Billy dug in. Ryan went beserk. He was very close to losing his mind and breaking, just like his ticklish cousin.
HHAHAHAHAHAH BILLY NOOOO HAHAHAHA NOT MY FEET HAHAHAHHAAHA YOU KNOW HAHAHA ME TOOOO WELL HAHAHAHAHHAHA. Billy sort of liked this, he had his cousin at his mercy. And it beat the hell outta being tickled. It was almost like he was hypnotized with power. He really got into the tickling, just like Opie had planned. “You know Ry, how bout we go BARE feet.” Ryan shouted NOOOOO YOU PRICK WHY WOULD U DO THIS HAHAHAHAHHA AHANOHAAHAHAH GOD NO HAHAHAH. His bare feet were very smooth for a hockey player. Flawless, and ticklish. He was in agony. HAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAhAhAHAHHAHA I”ll DO WHATEVER YOU WANT HAHAHHAHAH TELL ME WHAT TO DO HAHAHAHAHAH ANYTHING HAHAHAHAHA ILL TELL YOU ANYTHING HAHAHAHA. Opie was pleased. He got the information he wanted, tied Billy back up and asked Ryan the Million dollar question. “Will you tickle your dad, or keep getting tickled?” Ryan was embarrassed. His dad was nervous. He already was tickled in front of his son and nephew, but now BY HIS OWN son. This would be awful, and he knew that his millions were at stake here as his feet were ultra ticklish.
Ryan refused, and braced himself. “I wont do it. No way will I do that to my dad. He’s my father I could never make him sufferrhehehehehehehe o god hahahaha hehehHAHAHAHAHAHAHA DAMNIT HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHA HAHHAHA” Opie was loving this. “tickle your dad and it stops.” HAHAHAHAHhA FUCK YOU HAHAHAHAHHA hehehehehehehehehAHAHAHAHHA JESUS OK OK OK I’ll TICKLE HIM HAHAHAHAH I WILL HAHAHA. “what will you make him do when you tickle him?” taunted Opie. “HAHAH I”LL MAKE HIM TALK HAHAHHA.
It came down to Jack. Ryan and Billy had already sung like canaries from being tickled,
and he was the authority figure in their lives, and he was about to be tickled for information by his own son. His one loafter was still on, as was his black dress sock. Ryan sat down at his feet. He couldn’t stand being tickled anymore. He had to tickle his dad. Jack tried to plead with him. “Son, don’t do this. We can handle this, we’re men. I’m very ticklish on my feet, and I don’t want to break, but if you do this well enough there’s a chance I’ll have to give him a large amount of money. Please, don’t tickle me son!” Ryan looked at his dad. “I’m sorry dad, but I’m too ticklish. I had to give in and do this. My feet cant take anymore. I thought we were tough enough to take tickling, but it seems our whole family is ultra ticklish. Try to hold out. Opie chimed in “OK OK enough of this sappy shit. Tickle the shit outta your old man boy or your feet get it good!” Quickly Ryan jumped right at his father. Jack held out from giggling for 4 seconds. That’s it. The family weakness had struck again. “hEHEhhehehe Ryan no hahahahahahhah please listen to me I’m your fatherhereerhehehehe HAHAHAHAHA O MY GOD I HAHAHAHA I CANT TAKE HAHAHA IT HAHAHAHAHHA HAHA.
Ryan experienced the same power trip his cousin did while tickling his feet. He was really liking this. He slipped off his dads other shoe and went to town on both feet. He even began taunting. “Geez dad, you SOOO TICKLISH. No wonder I’m so ticklish. Do I get it from you or Mom? It looks like you???” Jack was so confused. His son was at his feet tickling and taunting him. His weakness was getting to him. HAHAHAHHAH ME SON HAHAHAHA SHE”S NOT EVEN TICKLISH HAHAHAHAHAHA ITS FROM ME HAHAHAHHAHA NOW STOP HAHAHHAHA HAHAH GOD NO HAHHHA. Ryan took off his dads stinky socks. Then he went to town on his bare feet. HAHAHAHAHAH NO RYAN HAHAHHAHA WHY HAHAHAHA WHY MY BARE FEET HAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH HAHAHHAHAH YOU CAN”T MAKE ME TALK HAHAHAHHA STOP HAHAHAHAH. Jack was starting to crack. His own son was doing it. Then the unexpected happened, Billy was let loose and dug into his left foot while Ryan tickled his right one. The authority figure was no more. His boys were tickling him hardcore. They knew just where to go to make him go nuts. Under his toes and his arch. He was losing it. HAHAHHAHAHAHHAH JESUS WHYYYYYY HAHAHAHA HAHAHAH NOOOOOOOO HAHAHHAHAHA OK OK I’LL TALK I’LL TALK HAHAHAH ANYTHING, ANYTHING YOU WANT IT”S YOURS HAHHAHAHAHAhAHAH MY FEET ARE SOOO TICKLISHSHAHAHAHAHAHAH.
Opie had won. He had used the family weakness to break three strong, inshape, good looking men, and that family weakness was ticklish feet. He tied them all back up after getting jack’s information. He wasn’t done with them yet, as he had a long week planned with these three ticklish relatives.

From: http://forums.tklfrat.com/viewtopic.php?f=31&t=6727  ( http://ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?t=16854 )

By Sporty22

It was spring time at Oak Hall University meant it was lacrosse season. That was the sport that took over the campus, and everyone was aware of how the team was doing and who the major players were. Oak Hall was a dominating school when it came to lacrosse, and because of this, they got some of the best recruits every year. There was however competition for Oak Hall. Their neighboring college, State University, was also top of the standings every year. It was kind of like a Duke – Carolina thing. Only 9 miles apart, the rivalry got pretty intense. This came to a climax when the two schools played every year.
This year Oak Hall was number one in the league and undefeated. State had one loss, and a win in this final game would mean that they would take the top spot going into the playoffs. Needless to say, this was a huge game. Mike O’Brian was one of the captains of Oak Hall. He was a 6’3, 220 all-American. Nothing could stop Mike when he was on the field. The guy was a beast. He and his co-captains, Doug Johnson and Frank Townsend were in the middle of a captains practice that they had called the night before the big game.
“Listen guys” said Mike, “We need to get these new plays coach gave us down. State has us scouted good, so these plays are everything tomorrow. Were gonna live and die by them” The players worked hard into the night running the playbook into the ground. They worked and worked until the captains felt that they were good enough to take on State the next day for the regular season title.
“Nice work boys. Were looking good, and those clowns at State aren’t gonna know what the hell hit them tomorrow,” Doug yelled. “Without a doubt,” Frank chipped in, “we have this on lock. If they want to take this game from us they are gonna have to work for it!”
After practice, the team was getting into their cars to go home and rest up for the big day, when Mike got a weird text message. It read “Mike, it’s coach Boruke. Round up Frank and Doug and meet me in the locker room right after practice. I’ll be waiting for you there so please hurry so we can get out of there. By the way, this is my wife’s phone, mine is dead.” Mike showed his co-captains the message. “Well let’s get going,” said Frank, “I’m trying to go shower and go to bed.”
When the players got into the locker room no one was there. The all-star players wondered in and turned on the lights. They kept looking around for their coach, but he was no where to be found. All of the sudden the sound of hissing was heard from above.
“What the fuck is that?” said Frank. “That sounds so weird, I’ve never heard that before,” said Mike. “Yea, I don’t ……um no what….that is.” Yawned Doug. The three players were being overcome by sleeping gas. They were getting sleepier and sleepier. “This is …..so….weird….all I wanna do is………uhhh……..sleeeeep.” Miike yawned as he finally gave into the gas. The other two followed right after. The 3 best players of Oak Hill’s lacrosse team were sleeping like babies in the locker room.
Mike was the first to wake up. He looked around groggy. When he finally was fully aware at what was going on, he realized that he was unable to move. His arms were tied over his head, and his legs were stretched out in front of him tied through a chair. He tugged and struggled, but the burly lacrosse star couldn’t move a bit. He looked to the sides of him and saw his teammates in the same helpless predicament. Doug and Frank both woke up soon after, and came to the same realization as Mike.
“What the fuck!” yelled Doug. “This is bullshit, how the hell did we get like this.” Frank was nervously trying to find answers as well. “Did coach do this? How did we fall asleep like that?” Suddenly there was another voice that boomed into the locker room. “Sleeping gas. That’s how.” All of the Oak Hill boys knew who the voice belonged to. It was Garry McFarland. He was the captain of the State lacrosse team. He was also with what seemed like 5 or 6 other lacrosse players from State. “Luckily we have some connections at the local hospital.”
“Garry are you fucking serious with this!” Mike yelled. “You’re going to fucking jail dude. This is so illegal.”
“Yea what do you pussies even want” asked Doug. “Cause whatever it is, you’re not going to get it.”
“Shut up Johnson. The fact is, we are complete control here, and there’s nothing you can do to stop us.” Garry said. And it was true. The 3 Oak Hill players were complete at the mercy of half the State squad. “What we want is very simple.” Garry continued. “We know that you changed your plays. We know that you changed them because of the game tomorrow, so we just want to know what they are, and the names of each play.”
Frank was the first to respond. “Are you serious? Are you fucking serious? You guys are so scared, so pathetic that you would tie us up like this to find out the plays? Go fuck yourself pussy.”
“Wow, do you all feel the same way?” said Garry. The other two shook their heads yes, very pissed off, and they all started to struggle again to break free, to no avail. Mike spit on the floor and hit a shoe of one of the State players.
Garry stepped in. “Well I’m sorry you all feel that way. It’s a shame for you, but that just means we get to have some fun.” The captive athletes looked confused. “What are you gonna cut us? Hurt us? We’ll go straight to the cops. “ Mike said confidently.
“No,” Garry said as he walked beside Mike, “We have another way. 100% effective. We sometimes use it as initiation for freshman. It’s funny because no matter how big or strong a guy is, there always seems to be a ticklish spot on his body that drives him wild.”
All three players were shocked. They didn’t show it, but they were nervous. They looked at each other and on the outside, remained calm and cocky.
“Fuck off, that is ridiculous.” Said Doug. “Yea” said Frank, “That is the stupidest shit I ever heard.”
“OK that’s fine, let’s get to it boys.” Garry said. The State players moved in on the helpless rivals.
They attacked their armpits first. One tickler per player. Garry took Mike, and his co-captains took Doug and Frank. When the fingers hit the hairy pits of the all-stars, they shook. They were trying so hard not to look weak. “You can do this,” Mike thought. The others were thinking they same thing, but the State players had their fingers flying over armpits, and before they knew it, Frank was starting to smile a bit. Doug saw this, and tried to help.
“Stand tall …..Frankhehe.” Doug’s concentration broke for a second and he giggled. “This is just the beginning boys.” Said Garry. “You all will start to break. You can feel it can’t you. You just want to giggle. It tickles you doesn’t it? You just want to laugh. You’re helpless and you can’t stop it.”
All three players were smiling like idiots now and eventually Frank started to giggle. “ehheheheheheh I’m sorry boyshehehe i hhee can’t help it.” This of course sparked the others to loose it. “heheheheh me eitherhehehehehe” mike giggled like a school girl.
“hahehehahah yea hehehe my pits are hehehe ticklish!” Doug yelled.
“Ok that’s enough.” Garry said. “Let’s get down to business. Take their cleats off.” The Oak Hill players felt their hearts sink. This wasn’t good, and to top it all off, their feet were still in their sweaty cleats, making it worse. “Are your feet ticklish Mr. All-American?” Garry asked Mike. “Nah man, not at all, just smelly, so you can enjoy that while you’re down there.”
“Sounds like you’re lying, lets find out boys. And remember, you three can stop this when it starts by just telling us the plays.
Frank had his cleats removed first. They pulled them off his feet showing his sweaty skin tight ankle socks. “Oh yea, these will do” said his tickler. As he paused for the other two to be done.
Doug was next, and he wore high blue socks, the color of Oak Hill’s team, but his socks were pretty thick. His tickler saw this and decided the socks had to go. “These are real thick socks, they wont save you buddy. No way” Doug swallowed as they removed his long socks making his feet completely bare. The tickler pulled a finger up his sole and the big guy jumped.
Last was Mike. Garry took pleasure in removing his cleats. He pulled the right cleat off to find a tiny black ankle sock, skin tight, and sweaty. “Last chance, I know your deathly ticklish big guy, no need to act tough. Save you’re pride. Tell us the plays.”
“fuck off.” Mike said. “Ok boys, lets get these guys laughing.
As soon as Frank’s tickler hit his feet, he was laughing hard. “HAHAHAHAHAHAHA oh my HAHAHAHahahAHAH goddddd hahaa. He was extremely ticklish on his big size 13 feet. “hhahahHAHAHAHA stop no stopHAHAHA.” He was already begging.
He looked over for help, but saw his friend and teammate in the same trouble. Doug was trying to hold out, but after about ten seconds, the strong defensemen gave in to his ticklish nerves. Heheheh no way assshole hehehe hahHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHAH damn it hAHAHAHAH. NOOO HAHAHAHAh. “What’s wrong?” asked his tickler. “You Oak Hall boys THAT ticklish??? You pussies!” Doug was in no shape to return an insult. He just kept helplessly laughing. HAHAHAHHAHAHAH.
Then there was Mike. The fearless leader of the Oak Hall lacrosse team. He wasn’t dealing with a defensemen slashing him, or a tough goalie to shoot on, he was dealing with a rival mid-fielder, running his fingers all over his ticklish size 12 feet. He tried to hold out as long as possible. As soon as his feet were touched, he was smiling, then giggling. He held out his laughter for about 30 seconds. “You know you want to laugh. Just do it. You can’t hold out” Garry said. “You’re nothing but a big ticklish loser. Coochie coochie cooooooo!!!!” As Garry said that, he brought his fingers to the base of the All-American’s toes. That broke the camel’s back. Mike broke out into a hysterical fit of laughter.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAH FUCKHAHAHAHAHHA YOUHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA I’m TOOO TICKLISH FOR HAHAHAHAHHA THISHAHAHHAHAHAHA.”
Just like that, the three best players from the Oak Hall lacrosse team were reduced to helpless laughter. They were very strong, handsome, and athletic, but there was nothing they could do but thrown their head back and laugh because of how ticklish they were.
“HAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAH MIKEHAHAHAH I CAN’T TAKE IT HAHAHAHHA” laughed Doug.
“ME HAHAHAHAH EITHERHAHHAAH.” Screamed Frank. “AHAHHAHAHAHAH I KNOW, HHAHAHA I DIDN”T KNOW HAHAHAH WE HAHAHA WERE SOOOO TICKLISH HAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA.”
Garry and the State boys were loving it. They had their rivals in their hands like silly puddy. He gave the nod to Frank’s tickler to take off the socks. He started to do the same for Mike. “NOOOOO don’t do this. Leave my socks on. Please no.” screamed Mike. The ticklish captain was now begging. “Listen, my feet are so ticklish, I couldn’t stand tickling on my bare feet.”
“just talk, do you want tell me the plays?” Garry asked. Mike just sighed and shook his head no. Fingers destroyed his bare feet and sent him into hysteria again. “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOOO HAHAHAH MY FEEEEEET HAHAHAHAHHAH.”
All three of the players were now shedding tears from laughing and it was only a matter of time until they broke for good. Finally, mike screamed it.
“WE”LLL TELL YOU ANYTHING HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA STOP STOP STOP HAHAHAHAHHAHAH.”
Frank and Doug yelled the same. “ANYTHING HAHAHAHAHHAHA NO MORE TICKLING HAHAHAHHAHAHAH NOT MY FEET HAHAHAHA.”
The three players caught their breath and told the State University team all of the new plays. The next day State shocked the community by dominating Oak Hall 14-3.

From: http://ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?t=153215

Over the past few years though, my own passion has eroded and I’ve found myself unable to continue with maintaining my personal corner of the fetish world. I no longer experience the fun and happiness I used to feel when building this site, contributing countless hours doing photos, managing posts, and constantly improving it. I kept hoping, that the inspiration would return, but it hasn’t, and while I’ve avoided facing it, the time has come for me to close Jake’s Place, as to do nothing would erode its legacy for those of you who remember it when it was active and alive, which I don’t want to see happen.

Its with a feeling of sadness that I close Jake’s Place, as its been an amazing experience, like any journey, it came with its share of bumps, but the rewards outweigh them. I feel honored and lucky to have managed to inspire so many of you, to pursue your own fetishes and to feel accepted, that having a sneaker fetish does not make you a freak, even though for many of you I’ve never personally spoken to you, not even a casual email. I didn’t think that simply expressing myself would have that type of impact on anybody, not in what most people seem to consider as anonymous of a communication medium as this. It just goes to show that our actions can matter, even if we don’t expect it.

As for myself, closing Jake’s Place doesn’t mean I’m going away forever,  I’m always looking for new opportunities, so with the closing of something old, gives room for something new. We’ll just have to see what that will look like.

In closing, I’d like to thank all of you for your support, without which Jake’s Place wouldn’t have been the same, and to wish you all well in the future.

Jake Wolf

(This is a repost from JakesSneaks.net and my former blog there… Jake’s Land of Mystery – this blog, isn’t going anywhere.)

A couple of things to bring to note:

• I’ve replaced the old videos page, with a new one. I don’t have a webcam set up anymore, and featuring an image from 3 years ago of me in a house I don’t live in anymore just didn’t seem to work. The new videos page showcases my Youtube videos, where I have an active channel, with both my older Jake’s Place-era videos and newer ones.
• I’m closing the Gallery on this site. In favor of my flickr account, which is easier to post to and manage than the gallery software here. The benefits of using a social photo service like flickr are obvious, making it easier for people to find my photos, amongst other things.  I’ve already reposted all the material that was found in the gallery here on my flickr photostream.

In the future (hopefully near future) I plan to do the following:

• Open a local version of my galleries on flickr, combining the benefits of using their service with the benefits of being able to have my photos available here on the website.
• Redesign the layout of these pages and hopefully to build up the "home" aspect of these pages.

After that, I’ll turn my attention to the decision making process that needs to be faced with JakesSneaks.net. More on that in the future.

Thanks again guys

– Jake

My current project is to sell off a bunch of sneakers and boots that my boyfriend and I no longer have room for and don’t wear enough… Over the next few weeks I plan on having more… You can see what I currently have for sale on ebay; Here’s photos of the first batch..

The auctions end next tuesday night.. Enjoy guys.

– Jake