My folks made sure of that, lemme tell ya. Over breakfast that morning I told them, with the best "victim" look I could muster, what the Kelley Island community service entailed. But it did no good. In fact, my dad said they should just keep me in the stocks the whole time, seeing what I had done, rather than just a few hours each week. I knew when he had made up his mind, so I just looked down and sullenly stirred my cereal.

"Son, for what you pulled off back home you should be sitting in juvy hall right now, and you know damn well you would be if it wasn't for the fact that your uncle is a county commissioner. Jeez son, copyright infrigement? Piracy? Those are serious charges..."

"I know dad, I know..." I mumbled.

"I mean, good Lord boy...copying DVDs, selling them on the internet and at flea markets, and then using the money to buy stereo equipment for your..." he sighed, "...car; if that's what I even can call it!"

I looked up and grinned, "But it IS a sweet ride...and loud too!"

"Young man, that attitude is what got you in this mess in the first place! It was in the newspaper for Chrissake!" he said loudly as he shot a steely glance in my direction.

I cringed. I hated it when my dad scolded me. I swear, it was worse than if he had hauled off and hit me.

"I know dad; and I am sorry...it was stupid." I said, downcast.

"OK. We've gone over all this God damn shit eno..."

My mom shot my dad an evil look. "Lawrence!" she barked.

"Sheesh...." he said, and looked back at me,

"OK we've gone over all this crap," he glared at my mom, "...enough I think."

My dad hated having to edit himself, but my mom hated cussing even more; but 20 years in the Navy does that to you sometimes.

I excused myself, kissed my mom goodbye and my dad grinned at me as I went out the door. It was tough sometimes being his son, but I wouldn't trade him for anything.

My PO was there to meet me, and it all went pretty well. He asked me a few questions, and went over my charges with me. Like usual, he had to remind me of 'how lucky I was...' and all that stuff. I told him I knew that. The next thing I had to do was take the stupid piss test. That was because when I was busted, they found a little pot on me. The charges were dropped, as long as I passed the damn piss tests. I hadn't gotten high for over two weeks, as it was really hard to get the stuff here. But I still wasn't taking any chances, so I had boned down on some "body cleanse" and about a gallon of good old aytch two oh. My piss came out just about clear, and I passed the test just fine.

As I was not yet working, I had to do 40 hours a week at my community service. And of course, with my bum luck, I was scheduled to do the "historical portrayal" on my first day. I groaned when he told me, but then I found out that due to the nature of my offense, I was going to be portraying a make-believe pirate! Now at least that was cool, I had to admit. Pirates were the "in" thing now, especially around here and down the beach. So I reckoned at least the ladies would be impressed, if nothing else.

My PO handed me some ragged looking clothes; but they had a cool belt, and a scarf that I could wrap around my head. I have to confess; I did look pretty cool! My PO told me to get down to the waterfront square, and the rest of the reenactors would meet me there.

A couple minutes later, I arrived at the waterfront. There were already a lot of people there, including a bunch of girls sitting out front at the coffee shop. They all stared me down as I strode by in my pirate clothes, my bare feet slapping the ground the whole way. Then I saw the other actors. The magistrate was the same guy who was in charge of Drake's punishment. But he had an assistant, and it was DRAKE!

"Well...if it ain't ol' Cal!" Drake said with a sinister grin. "Seems like you done been in your share of trouble too, eh?"

Drake, and another boy about his age grabbed my arm, "C'mon rich boy...let's go."

I tried to pull away, but Drake held me fast.

"Cal, it's OK to put up a fight for the show...just not too hard." He whispered. "I'm gonna make sure you are taken care of, don't worry..."

I wasn't sure if that was a promise or a threat. But what could I do. I mean they weren't really hurting me, and the worse that could happen was that I got the bottoms of my feet tickled for a couple minutes. I mean, hell; that ain't all that bad.

"OK hoss, jump up on there."

I jumped up on the stocks platform and sat down. The device was simple, yet amazingly effective. Captain Kelly had devised his stocks for maximum tickle torture effect, and I would soon find out just how 'effective' they could be. First, Drake and his redneck pal secured my ankles in the stocks. Then a leather strap was passed over the lower part of my ankles, and around my foot just above the heel. This whole affair sort of kept my foot pointed a little forward. But then they pulled my toes back, and secured them to eyehooks in the top of the stocks with leather thongs. The tension was increased even more, when they rested my back against a board, and tied my arms out straight to a kind of wooden 'fence'. This pushed my legs forward, and stretched my soles even more due to the way my toes were tied.

When they were done strapping me down, Drake stepped back to admire his work.

"Cain't move a thread, kin ya Cal?" he said, smiling.

And I couldn't either. It was weird, but I was perfectly comfortable too, even the with way my feet had been tied. This was Captain Kelly's most diabolical innovation; maximum restraint, with minimum loss of feeling. Drake then stepped up to the stocks.

"Let's see now...we better make sure you cain't git loose, " he said as he ran his fingertip up and down the sole of my foot. "Kitchy-kitchy-koo Cal! Now giddy-up!"

With that, Drake's buddy got behind me and started to goose and tickle me hard in my ribs.

"NOOO! HA! HA! HA! OHH NOOO! STOPPPPP!!!" I screamed, bouncing up and down as little as I could. Then all of a sudden the ferry whistle blew, and the two devils stopped tickling me.

"Oh shit" Drake said. "The dang ferry's here already!"

"Drake, ya gotta let me outta here. I drank a bunch of water before my piss test, and now I gotta go again!" I begged.

"No time hoss. The ferry's unloading already. We'll let you out after this first group, I swear."

"DRAKE! I GOTTA PISS!"

But it was too late. I could see the 'magistrate' and his tour group coming my way. This was gonna be awful. I was trapped here, I had to piss like a racehorse, and they were going to tickle my fucking feet. Oh man...this was gonna be awful.

"Folks, we've got a bad one here; a real scalawag!" The magistrate called. "This young man was convicted of piracy; part of a crew of murderers and cut throats. Now here on Kelly's Island, we don't hang our pirates..."

I looked in horror at what was coming my way. It was Drake, and his redneck pal. Drake was carrying a bucket, and two brushes. But his buddy had two small goats that he was leading towards me on a set of leashes. Now I had heard about goat-licking as a form of tickle-punishment. The so-called "torture of the goat's tongue". But I never expected to have to undergo it personally! Now I would find out just how bad it could be.

Drake and his pal started to brush the soles of my feet with a warm, sticky liquid.

"Hey man, that tickles!" I said. "What the hell is that stuff?"

Drake looked up from his work. "Just some molasses mixed with a little salt and some cornmeal. Them goats love it. Old Glen here trained these two for this business hisself. They'll lick and lap this stuff all day, a nary give you a bite. And they know that you cain't git away!"

"...no folks, we don't hang pirates; we simply tickle them to DEATH!"

With that. the goats were released. They sprang forward right on cue, and began to lick heartily at the sticky goo coating my feet. I tried not to laugh, I held my breath and clenched my teeth, but nothing would work...I couldn't...I couldn't...

"OH NOOO! OH IT TICKLES, IT TICKLES!!! HA! HA! HA! MAKE IT STOPPPPPP!! HA! HA! HA!'

This was the worst foot tickling I had ever received. It was way beyond anything had ever been through before, I mean, my dad and my buddies had tickled me before, but it wasn't like this. It was nothing like this. The simple fact that I was totally helpless seemed to increase my ticklishness ten fold. I knew I couldn't get away, no matter how hard I tried. The goats' tongues felt like warm, wet fingers with little hard bumps on them. And they could lick so fast!

"BWAH! HA! HA! HA!" I screamed helplessly. "PLEEEEZE, DRAKE! I CAN'T HOLD IT NO MORE!"

The crowd was cheering and erupting with laughter at the spectacle unfolding before their eyes. They thought it was all an act. I begged and pleaded, laughed myself hoarse...but all it did was increase the rate at which I was being photographed and cause the crowd to laugh louder.

"HA! HA! HA! OHHH! OHHHH! HA! HA! HA! OH NO! OH! NO!"

Five minutes was all it took...five minutes. I was only sitting there for five minutes, when my I lost control of my bladder, and pissed my damn trousers! Drake saw what happened, pulled the goats away and quickly "drubbed" me with a bucket of warm bay water. It felt good anyways, as I was sweating like a pig. But mostly it camouflaged the fact that I had wet my pants. I shook my head like a dog, spraying Drake in the process.

"Cal, I'm really sorry about that dude. But its embarrassing enough to just sit here and git tickled like that, I couldn't let them damn tourists see that. That'd be cruel!"

"THAT"D BE CRUEL!!" I yelled. The I glowered at him and growled, "..wait until the best time YOU are in here, HOSS!"

"Heh...well now. Seems like you are catching on to the game at last, huh?!" Drake said with a wide, country boy grin.

THE END