When I was 16, I was on my High School's junior varsity wrestling team. We were one of the most competitive teams in the upper-South region, partly due to the fact that we had a talented, but very tough coach.

At the time, I was considered one of the top contenders in my weight class (116-124 lb.). typical, cocky, teenage jock, I had a big ego and considered myself pretty damn indestructible. looked very young for my age, short brown hair, a rangy, tight well-muscled body, and green eyes that got me lots of girlfriends when I was "in the mood" (just that I liked guys more than girls!) I was a real hillbilly (our school had "groups", and I was definitely in the "country-boy group!) So that made me cockier than anything!

Luckily, even though I was only 5'6" tall, most everyone in school liked me, so I never got into fights. My friends used to call me "Huck", because my folks weren't terribly "well-off" (we live in a trailer), I always dressed in clothes that were a little too old and dirty, and I loved goin' barefoot in warm weather, both out of school, (and even in school when I could get away with it).

I loved fishing and hunting, and knew all the "good-spots" to go, which I shared with my pals. I was friendly to most everyone, and as a result had a lot of friends (even though most of them were "rednecks")!

In general I stayed out of trouble, and had a good reputation at school. The one big "vice" I had, was that, being something of a "tough guy", I smoked cigarettes and dipped snuff on a regular basis, a habit I acquired at very early age! Now using tobacco wasn't allowed on the school grounds, but a lot of kids did it anyway. However, team wrestlers weren't allowed to use tobacco in any form, at any time!

It just so happened that one day, I was hanging outside of the local shopping mall, with some of my redneck buddies, chewin' and spittin' up a storm, when who should walk out the door, but my wrestling coach! I tried to hide, but it wasn't any use...he saw me and I was BUSTED! I thought he was going to holler at me right there and then, and humiliate the hell out of me! But instead he just walked over to me, and quietly informed me that "smoking and chewin" were "against team rules", and that if I wanted to stay on the team I would have to accept some disciplinary action at the next practice. Out of sheer nervousness and embarrassment, I started to grin and laugh a little.

He glared at me and said, "This ain't no laughing matter son...we'll see how funny you think it is Monday!"

Little did I know what he had in mind!

I was really scared when our regular after-school practice session came up the following Monday. We went through our regular practice routine, which took about two hours, and everything went as normal, so I hoped maybe he had forgotten about me seeing me chewing. No such luck. As soon as the "regular" practice was over, he called had us line up, stand at attention and he addressed the whole team. He told everyone that I thought I was "special" in that I felt I could get away with chewing tobacco and smoking, while everyone else had to obey the rules!

What happened next really scared me. He told everyone that because I was "so special", they would all take my punishment for me. I was ordered to sit on the bleachers, and watch. The entire team was made to do push-ups, sit-ups, run laps, more push-ups, bridges (an exercise where you balance on your head and feet, making a "bridge" with your back and pushing your stomach into the air...it really hurts!). He kept this up for at least an hour, and everyone was exhausted by the time it was over. I felt awful...it should have been me getting punished; but I knew deep inside that this was only the "set-up" for something far worse!

After practice, we all headed for the showers, and everything went like a normal day. But when I headed back to my locker, there was a "reception committee" waiting there for me, made up of ten guys from the team (some of the biggest ten guys!) I barely had a chance to put on my boxer shorts, when one of them opened my locker and pulled out my jeans. He found my can of snuff in my back pocket, and a pack of cigarettes in my shirt. I hollered at him to "leave my stuff alone" when all at once they grabbed my and literally picked me up off the ground. Now, I was pretty strong for my size, and I tried to fight back, but it was no use, they had me.

The fellas carried me out of the locker room into the training room, where we had our whirlpool, weight-sets, training tables, etc. They heaved me onto one of the training tables, laying me across it the short way, on my belly. I struggled, a little, but they had me good. Suddenly, I felt something being tied around my ankles (it was an elastic bandage). Then they were secured to the end of the table, so I could hardly move my feet at all except to wiggle them around a little.

Now my punishment started. One of the guys held my head, so I couldn't move it, then another got down on the floor under my face, and pulled out my lower lip. He stuffed a big old dip of snuff in there and let it snap shut. Then someone started running their finger along the bottom of my bare foot! Now the guys knew I was pretty "tough", I could take more pain than most of the guys who were twice my size. Among the wrestlers I was know as the "badger" because of it. But I had a terrible weakness; I was ticklish as hell, and nearly all over my body! And everybody on the team knew about it! The fingers scraped and scratched along my soles, and I was in agony! I started laughing and cussing, and before you knew it I spit out the dip that was in my lower lip. They made fun of me saying, "Ohhh, is the tough little hillbilly-boy `s feet ticklish? How `bout you beg for mercy ticklish little redneck? huh?"

But I wouldn't beg, just laugh! They couldn't break me! Or so I thought!

They stopped tickling me long enough to put another dip in my lower lip and give me a "breather", and then started again. This time somebody held my big toes back, to make the skin along the bottoms of my feet taught, and they started scraping a pen-cap along them. I was laughing so hard I almost couldn't see...screaming and yelling for them to stop!!! I spat out that dip, only for them top put another one in, and they started again! This tickle torture went on until they had emptied the can, and I had managed to spit it all out over the floor in front of me. That was the end of "Phase 1".

Now they lit one of my cigarettes and held it under my face, so that the smoke drifted up into my eyes and nose. All of a sudden, I felt something that really tickled, worse than anything so far, and it was between my toes! They were twirling a cotton swab down there, and it was driving me crazy. Stroking it along my bare soles, and then twirling it around and around between my big toe and second toe. I was laughing and laughing, I couldn't' stop. The smoke from the cigarette drifting up into my face stung my eyes and made my nose burn, but I don't know what was worse, the smoke or the tickling.

Now they "stepped up" the torture. Somebody started tickling my ribs, somebody else started twiddling their fingers under my armpits, and someone else on the backs of my knees! I was laughing so hard that I didn't know what to do. I thought I was gonna go crazy!! When it didn't seem it could get worse, suddenly I felt something warm and wet gliding along the bottoms of my ticklish bare feet. One of those sons-o-bitches was LICKING MY DANG FEET!! Now I've seen pictures of guys getting their feet "worshipped", and licked, but for me, foot licking is the worst form of tickling imaginable. I couldn't take it any longer!!! I started screaming for mercy, in between the laughing and hollering. I tried to wiggle my feet and toes. I tried to hit the bastard in the face with my feet, but it was no good. They were tied too well, and being held still, too. That warm, wet tongue did its dirty work, and got me screaming and laughing and squirming like a worm. It tickled so bad that I begged for them to stop...I swore I'd never smoke or chew during wrestling season again. My laughter was so loud they must have heard it outside the school walls!

Suddenly they stopped, and the coach appeared in front of me. He looked down and told me how he had "given the guys some instruction" on how to "correct" a smoker (Marine) Corps style. He said how seeing as I thought that using tobacco was so funny, I might as well laugh while I was doing it! Then he looked at the fellas and said, "OK, four more guys!"

They lit another one of my cigarettes, and the torture started again! I was tickled that way for the time it took to burn three more cigs, and they kept my pack, no less. Although the entire ordeal took only about 30 minutes, it seemed like an eternity.

They repeated my punishment every day that week after practice until they had used up all my cigarettes (it was almost a full pack!) in the process.

And you can bet that I made sure nobody ever saw me smoking during wrestling season again.