Flat bench. Elbows at 90% when bar's at your chest. Your hands are lashed to the 100 lb. bar, about 1 foot away from your shoulders (wide grip). Bar also has ropes that go behind you and down to the floor and secured. Feet are flat on the floor and tied to a 3 foot length of wood that goes under the bench. You got your gym shorts on, that's it. Your waist is tied down to the bench and so is your neck.
When the bar is down, I'll tickle the fucking shit out of your armpits. Press up, and I tickle your abs-only with a feather. If you bench press the weight like you're in a gym, I don't touch you. If you get to ten reps, you get a REAL 30-second break. If you break form, ya get tickled. Pride's REALLY on the line here, buddy. 100 lbs. ain't hard to do. But we both know muscle fatigue's gonna hit you sooner or later. You crank out a few sets no problem, a few more, you're slowin' (30 seconds don't give much re-coup time, does it?)
"Oh, come on MAN! Only 6 sets at that weight!! Fuck!! Give it up, man, you're jock days are over, hang'em up and let the young guys take the field. Look all the strain in your face. Hey, I'll take some weight away ok? Citchie-citchie-coo," (as I tickle your armpit dead center and then go higher on the bicep as you were just muscling up to lift the weight off your chest). You laugh, grunt and press up.
Well fuck, bud, don't stop there. You gotta go down and up 9 more times. Oh, and until ya go for three in a row, I tickle you. Feather starts to hit your abs, you're grinning but you handle it. You go down and up and stop. You know, buddy, that weight don't go up and you're fucked. And I start tracing, abs to your sides, and your grinning a little more, you know the bar is going to end up on your chest again, and your arms need a rest and holding them up and 100 lbs. ain't helping. You press two more and stop. Tickling down at your abs is REALLY distracting you, you're sweating, pride's about to take a hit REAL soon and you KNOW it.
"C'mon, buddy, flex them muscles, get a good burn, four more, go for four more." You start laughing, the bar goes down and you wrestle it up.
"Come on, three more, give me three more." You start swearing at me. Last thing you need is a guy acting like it's just Chest and Shoulders Day. The bar goes down, you pause--you're dead.
I tickle the shit out of your armpits. "Hey, guy, the weight's getting a little heavy for ya, eh?" You try to press up, but the tickling that close to the muscle you need is too much. The bar falls on your chest, you start laughing at the fucking bullshit position you're in. "Fuck, a real man should be able to crank that with his own weight, man. Fuck, bud, you're pathetic." I start tickling up and down the center of your armpits, and you lose it fast. You already got a burn in your arms, but they're tough, ready to work again in a minute or two, so now a tickling assault is last thing they can handle--you're a dead man.
Now that you're laughing, the rest of your upper body is OPEN season. I'll keep you laughing like this a good hour and a half. Then I'll give you a quick break while I re-adjust your feet to bench level and tie your toes back. You didn't think I'd leave your feet alone, did ya? You're too fuckin' ticklish down here for me to pass up that chance. I move the bar to the stands (ropes off ) and drop 300 lbs. on the bar. Your armpits are real stretched out now. Start tickling your feet. LONG stroke up and down that center, mid-toes to heel. I DIG a little harder as I hit dead center in the soft spot of each foot. Keep tickling, slow at first, then quicker and a GOOD dig in the center sometime with a few center quick strokes and YOU'RE HOWLING.
You're already tired and beat, and you know I'll tickle your weak spots something fierce. This kind of laughter deserves a good 90 minutes. Then back to your armpits--no break. I think your whimpering and begging deserve to get your armpits tickled REAL SLOW. I want to see your face as I tickle the SHIT OUT of ya this way, dead slow, and see what's left of your pride JUST DIE.
"So, bud," ( as I tickle your pits), "ya think I'm a stronger guy than you `cause you're older, or are ya just plain weak?"
Now, I'm gonna get you to answer this. We both know you got no choice. How many minutes ya figure before that unbearable tickling gets you to give me an answer? You can fuckin' swear at me, bud, ya can curse up and down, but I ain't letting up until you answer--YOU'RE FUCKED.
Don't ya wish you were a strong athlete like me?
If you're not swearing your head off and laughing by now, bud, ya ain't human.
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