Back to Part 2
- - 10 - -
When he came to, she'd already moved him. To a lab.
Bodie knew the drill. He started to get anxious... until he realized it didn't fuckin' matter. Whatever room he was in, the result was the same.
"Morning... badass." She was in way too good of a mood.
"Morning," he sighed.
"Time for a checkup," she said. "Complete physical..."
The first hour wasn't that bad, except for her not letting him smoke.
He was stretched out, wrists strapped together. Ankles, too. She could pick him up real easy. Roll him over...
A scale slid over next to him, and for some reason it always embarrassed the hell out of Bodie to be picked up and weighed like that. Like a fuckin' fish. When all she had to do was bring in a normal scale, and order him to hop on it and stand still...
She took about thirty measurements, humming to herself. Then the stethoscope roamed around, and the blood pressure cuff levitated around his arm.
Amy made him pee into a cup. She got a blood sample - and stuck what felt like just a big ol' finger up his ass, to get a stool sample, laughing while she did. Every time.
The little dishes sat on the floor alongside him, getting chemicals stirred in...
One beaker was still empty. He couldn't remember what it was for, until she started playing with his cock.
"Hey, now -"
"Semen sample."
"Dammit..." But those invisible fingers knew how to get him going. "Yeah, like you really need that one."
She giggled. "Maybe I do, and maybe I just want to wake up all those ticklish nerve endings."
"I wouldn't do this... to a dog," he grunted.
The hand stopped. "Oh, for - Are you bringing up the cocker spaniel thing again? You've gotta be kidding me. Bodie, how many times have you lost this same debate?"
He just gritted his teeth, trying to think his erection away.
"You domesticate animals in order to use them. Affection, or food -"
"Maybe that's wrong, too."
She continued pumping him. "Excuse me. You appear to be in excellent health, here. Nice and muscular. You're rich. I get you drunk at every opportunity... Most of the time, you're free to do whatever the fuck you want. And the rest of the time, you're feelin' so much pleasure you can't see straight."
Already, the precum was starting to ooze. Amy definitely knew her way around him.
"I wouldn't say 'most of the time'. Some of the time, yeah -"
"Every one of our bikers is treated way better than any of 'em treat their dogs. You use them - we use you. Shit."
The fingers peeled off - without finishing.
"Think I'll get the leads placed now." A bunch of wires started to rise, being untangled.
He looked at his cock. "Uh..."
"Don't even try it. Cocker spaniel..." Hands pinned his head down, and messed with his hair. When she had the spot she wanted, Bodie felt a sticky pad land on his scalp.
"Ow," he said, as she pressed down on it. Hard.
"Be quiet," she fired back. "If you didn't flop around so much, these would stay on a lot better."
After all the leads were stuck on him - head, chest, and neck - the hand returned to pump his rod. She kept stopping, and tracing around his armpits, then starting again. Fifteen minutes of that and he was moaning all the time. All feverish. Begging her to get it over with. With a giggle, she launched a blitz all up and down his sides, making him roar. Then her hand finished him off.
Bodie was still laughing when the convulsions stopped...
She gave him a cigarette, and patted him on the head.
"Good boy. Good Bodie. A couple more minutes," she said.
"Whuh... For what?" Bodie said, still catching his breath.
"Test results. The tests we've done so far."
Something clattered - and he looked to his left. A hypodermic was in the air, and he saw the needle-cap bouncing on the floor.
"You shouldn't have looked," Amy chuckled.
"Hey..."
A little bottle met up with it.
"What the... f-fuck is that?"
"Super-concentrated tickling enhancer," she said.
He hesitated. "C'mon." The needle drew up a fair amount of whatever the fluid really was, squirting out the air bubbles as it came closer.
"Because you're just too serious, Bodie."
"Don't -"
She poked him right in the shoulder. The plunger raced down.
"Ow... That hurts."
"I believe you," she said, all soothing - after the needle was pulled out. "But it's necessary."
He took a long drag, deciding if it would pay off to get angry right then. Probably not. "Really. Amy - what is it?"
"Vaccines. Several diseases, and now you're protected from all of 'em."
"Honest?"
"Cross... your heart, dude."
He settled down, and looked at the ceiling.
"There's a chance," Amy said carefully, "that you might have a negative reaction -"
"Oh, great."
"A very slim chance."
"And if I do?"
Metal clinked - and another little bottle wandered over to him. Up by his eyes.
"Anti-ana-phh..."
"Antianaphylactic," she said. "Means... antidote to an allergic reaction. This'll fix ya up real good." His face told her that he wanted to say something - preferably a smartass remark - but nothing was occurring to him. "The only reason I told you is so you can let me know if you feel anything new."
"New? Annoyance, but it ain't new," he growled. "I feel way too much stimulation coming on. Overexertion -"
"Fuck you. No such thing as 'too much' - not for ol' Bodie. I'll give you overexertion... But I meant, something you've never felt before. Not just a sore arm, or heartburn. Got it?"
"I got it."
"And you can be sure I'll be watching you. Real close."
"Hooray -"
His cigarette was plucked from his lips.
"You are the most disrespectful cuss I've ever... entertained. Do you know that?"
"You're welcome."
"And after you drink some water, we'll get on with the exam." The bottle zoomed into position, and started tilting. "Okay."
The dishes were lifted. He watched 'em rock back and forth. Colored strips of paper were dropped inside.
"Hmmmmm. Okay. Very good... Now I'm going to check for skin cancer. And lumps. All over. Very thorough. The kind of careful attention you deserve. And last of all... of course... your reflexes."
He forced himself not to roll his eyes. That was the main event, in the lab.
She blindfolded him, and turned on the boxes that all the wires were hooked to.
And then, of course, she tickled him. Ramping up, and slowing back down, and accelerating again. Absolutely tickling the fuck out of him. Lots of rest breaks... but that actually made it worse each time the feathers would land again - or the oily brushes - and damn, she just made 'em fly.
- - 11 - -
Bodie yawned, and looked around him.
He was in a different room... and it was fuckin' cool.
Dull black. Low light. A bar, way behind him. Harley logo on the wall, and some beer signs - but they were hard to make out. Dusty?
Nothing to focus on, really. A guy needed something, anything, to stare at.
Bodie lifted his head to get a better look at the ankle-cuffs. Black metal and studs. Impressive. No chrome. Heavy... and they didn't creak, when he tried to snap 'em loose. Very well made. He wasn't going anywhere.
The mattress under him was soft, and covered with oily black rubber -
The door clicked. He jumped, and got mad at himself. Duh.
A tray floated in.
"It's only me," Amy said.
"Said the spider to the fly."
She chuckled, and set the tray down next to him. He saw a New York steak, and his mouth started to water.
"I take it back," he said quickly. "You're the best."
"Good try." A knife and fork were picked up. They started cutting the steak, and he checked out the rest of the food. Wedge-cut fries, sauteed mushrooms, pinto beans, pie... Beer, and water. The ever-present vitamins and other pills were there, too, in a little paper cup.
"Is that... apple pie?"
"Peach."
"Damn!" All his favorites. "How am I supposed to stay mad now?"
"You're not. No steak sauce, right?"
"Well, actually -"
"Too bad." She shoved a piece of steak in his mouth. "I forgot it."
Bodie shrugged, chewing away.
Amy picked up a pillow from along the wall. Black leather pillow... "Lift your head."
He did, and made a happy noise.
"Good?"
"Oh," he managed. "Wow."
"Wait'll you try the mushrooms. They're peyote. Grown right here."
"Ha," he finally said.
"And the pie is chock-full of dexedrine."
By that time, he figured out she was kidding...
"Last smoke," she said, taking the water bottle away from his mouth.
Bodie took the cigarette, and a light. It was the third one since he finished eating. She was being nice to him, so he tried to look grateful. He played with the wrist-cuffs, twisting his arms idly. "Last meal, too?"
Amy laughed. "Maybe. That's it. You've finally figured it out. I'm gonna let Cal-Boss tickle you until you are no more. But you'll go with a smile on your face."
"Is it 'cause you're tired of me?" he said, grinning like a cat. Playing along.
She just loved that. "Curses. Yes, Bodie. Yes. I must be free to tickle the Cal State Riverside weightlifting club -"
"Why Riverside?"
"I don't know," she said breezily. "First thing I thought of."
"Too bad I won't be able to warn 'em," he chuckled.
"Not a chance. Your goose is well and truly cooked..."
"Aw."
"Actually, Cal-Boss has put an unusually high value on a certain sensitive li'l biker, such as we have here."
The tray floated away. Then the pillow was yanked out from his head.
"Here's how it works," she said. A scarf came and brushed the ashes off his chest. "One more treat, even though you're way too much of a smartass to deserve it. You're going to wear this."
A ballcap floated up. Black, naturally. With a dark Harley bar and shield...
"Okay," he said.
"This belongs to Cal," she continued. "It'll tingle. And when it does, the skittish fucker wearin' it gets a real surprise. He forgets whatever Boss wants him to forget."
"Permanently?"
"Naaah! Just until it comes off."
He started wiggling around. Nervous... "How does that, uh -"
"Remember our conversation? Guys learning to deal with the tickling... by liking it?"
"Yeah."
"You're going to relive that first time. Before you loved to get tickled. Only with Cal-Boss, instead of me."
And the outcome, he realized, would be exactly the same. Did they really have the technology to prove it? "Uh... C'mon."
"I kid you not. You won't remember me. No other times. The killer gloves will be on their way, and you won't be exactly sure what they want."
"Get the fuck outa here."
"Sounds like fun?" Amy laughed.
"Actually... Yeah."
There was a pause. "Only you would come out and say that."
"I got a bad feeling you're gonna prove your point."
"What?"
"About you ticklers... wantin' to get guys to like it. Nobody would make a cap like this, unless they wanted to... enjoy that first time. Over and over again. Introducing a guy to the fucked-up world of tickling, right? Turnin' a biker." He tried to shrug. "It only makes sense if you were all hot to get him to like it. In some way. Even if he hates the fact that tickling gets him off, well..."
"I swear," Amuseur finally said. "Out of the mouths of babes."
"What now?"
"You got it. And babe, you always find another way to surprise me." Of course, Bodie had overlooked an obvious possibility. Or he'd ruled it out. Cal-Boss could use the cap to replay the first-night reaction, whether or not it led to any acceptance of the tickling. But he'd guessed right, so Amy let that go.
The cap came closer and closer.
"Here goes nothing," he muttered.
"Smart little badass," she cooed, pulling the cap down as far as it would go.
"Well?" he said, after a few seconds.
She laughed at him. "Soon. Just put yourself in his place. Cal. An ordinary guy, not a biker - yet. Knowing, as the cap comes down, that everything he knows about tickling phantoms is about to be erased -"
Suddenly she yanked it off.
"Uh. Amy? I'm still... me."
"I know. I just had a thought... You gotta do what he does. Get the full effect."
"Do I have to?"
"Yes. My prisoner. It'll be fun." Bodie snorted at that. She just raised the cap a little higher. "Seriously - imagine you're Cal. He's been caught and tickled twenty, thirty times. And he comes to, cuffed down - like you are - and sees the cap. And he knows, from past experience, exactly what it does. Now, act all freaked-out."
He sighed, real hard.
"Do it. Or I'll help you get all frantic."
"Fuck." He rolled his eyes, and started tugging at the restraints.
"Stare at it," she said. "Yeah. Try to roll around more."
"Should I yell, too?"
"You could whimper a little..."
Bodie thought that was nuts. So he growled instead. "No. Aw, fuck. No. Help... Aw, pleeeeeeze..."
"Beautiful," Amy said. She took his cigarette - and brought the cap down again. "Thrash around more. This is the cap that says, you're about to forget why you're trapped here - just because Cal-Boss gets a charge out of making you discover it all over again. And the unbearable tickling will go on for a long fuckin' time. Yes, it will. Months of tickling. Kick your feet, too... That's it."
The whole situation was so ridiculous - he chuckled, once. Then he thought about the first time Amy caught him... and sorta got into it. "C'mon. Boss. Oh, no. Noooooo!"
"It's coming. No stopping it," Amy said. "You won't be able to remember anything else. Just what Boss wants you to remember. In this room. So much tickling. Remember how its gloves felt, barely covering your soles?"
He didn't need to act scared of that. Nineteen - he really was fucked. That made him jerk around harder.
The cap was right over his head.
"Watch it. As it lands -"
"No - no - stop it! Please! No - take it... away -"
She chuckled. "Fear it. The Boss' cap. It's here to mark the beginning of a whole new nightmare for ya. Marathon... tickling..."
"Naaaaaaaah..." And he kept yelling.
Hamming it up, Amy thought. Oh, well -
The cap dropped. She tugged it on firmly.
And it started to... buzz.
He saw the gloves. Coming from behind him. Moving - all by themselves?
A strange combination of feelings ran through him, as he stared...
They were black, and smooth. Durable-looking. Full, as if there were hands inside - but the openings were dark. No wires, moving 'em.
Where the hell were his clothes? Getting away seemed like a real good idea -
But his arms wouldn't move.
Or his legs.
He looked up at his right wrist. At the cuff, there, and the taut strap.
"Oh, no," he said. Totally shocked. He started to pull... and looked at his other hand. It was impossible. Why would somebody do this to him? No. It had to be a dream. There was no way this was real.
The gloves had stopped moving. They hung over his belly.
It was obvious he was solidly... stuck. He already knew his legs weren't moving either, but he had to check. More cuffs.
A look around the room kicked the fear up a few notches. Something like terror, only... deeper, along with the belief that he was not really strapped down, to a fuckin' bed, in a room like this. He just thought he was. It couldn't be true.
A very realistic dream, then. That must be it.
About a yard over him, the fingers moved slowly.Pulling harder, his ass slid around. Not very far. Maybe a couple inches. There was oil, on the sheet. Rubbery texture against his butt-cheeks, and his shoulder blades, with oil in between. It was a weird sensation.
There was no way he'd ever let himself get caught... like this.
He scanned the room again. Where the hell was he? A bar? It must've been closed for awhile. Abandoned. And here, he was strapped down. Oh, shit...
There was something kinda hypnotic about the gloves. He couldn't take his eyes off 'em. They just didn't do this, dammit - move all by themselves. They looked rock-steady, and he wasn't sure but it seemed like they were almost threatening him. Magic gloves.
What the fuck did they want?
Past his left hand, he stared... at the door. There was a big lock, painted black - stuck through a slab of dark metal across the whole door-frame. Locked up tight. No mistaking that message - he wasn't getting out of here. Nobody else was gonna wander in, either. That wasn't allowed.
On his own - with them. And he couldn't move! That made him try to kick, and roll around. The oil was clinging to him.
The gloves waited...
He looked again for some clue. Things laying nearby that they'd pick up, or something. Nothing really scary was in view, like knives or blowtorches. So that was a good thing. His imagination was running wild, but they had to be there to grab something... right?Aw, hell. Maybe they were gonna play with him. Get him off.
That made him angry. So fucked up. They had no fuckin' right to strap him down and pet his meat. He slammed around on the mattress. No way.
"Forget it," he yelled. Right at 'em.
They were descending now. Smooth fingers.
Somehow, the jerkoff theory didn't work either. Wouldn't they go for petroleum jelly? Some kind of lube? Maybe they had it hidden. There was oil on the sheet, so maybe the gloves would just... roll around and get all greased up.
He stared at the black ceiling and tried to stretch the restraints. They could just thump him. Beat him up. This was crazy.
The gloves came closer, and closer.
It looked like he was about to find out.
But they passed him... and pivoted. Going away.
Wait - were they going to his feet? Why the hell would they wan-
The answer hit him, an instant before they made contact. It was just not fuckin' possible!
The fingers touched him, and started moving...All he thought about, for a long time, was tickling.
All over him, stopping only long enough so he could catch his breath - and then it always started up again.
The gloves were unbelievably good at this...
Feathers, brushes and other tools he couldn't even name joined in, magically floating around on their own - just so he'd get tickled more. It kept increasing, somehow.
And a woman's voice kept laughing at him, like there was something about his situation that was just hilarious. She didn't sound anything like he had - his voice was pretty much gone. And her laughter wasn't forced. She wasn't getting tickled. Hell, no.
She was watching him suffer... and she just loved it. So fuckin' happy.
- - 12 - -
Hands were rubbing his ass. Bodie liked that. It meant... he was doin' okay.
Well, now. That was a weird thought -
"Bodie. Easy, now," he heard someone say.
More fingers started to knead his shoulders. His arms. And it felt real fuckin' good.
Amy. Short for Amuseur. That was her name.
She must've caught him again -
"No, you just rest up. Sleep for me, Bodie. It's okay..."
And he did.
He was laying down - sort of. Weird angle, but he couldn't seem to... move.
Bodie looked - and groaned. Uh-huh. Stocks. Laying-down stocks. Dammit. Amuseur...
TV screens. Monitors.
He woke up in a hurry. That room. Again -
"How are you?" Amy said.
"How do you think?" he shot back. Smartass-reflex. His voice was raspy, and real weak. He tried to move his hands again. When she didn't reply, he cleared his throat. "Actually... okay."
"Good." A water bottle came to his head. He was very glad to see it. There was a plastic jug to piss in, so he took advantage of that, too.
A pack of cigarettes lifted off the counter.
"How's your memory?" she said, with a chuckle.
He thought about it as he had a couple drags. Everything seemed to be coming back. Up to Amy teasing him, wanting him to act all scared...
Whoa. And watching the gloves come down. Not knowing what they were gonna do! Cal-Boss. The whole day flooded back. Damn!
"Unbelievable," he admitted. "It seems like I remember everything - now. All of it."
"Did you have fun today?"
He chuckled a time or two. Smutty as fuck. Couldn't help it.
Amy saw the big ol' smile on his face... and was thoroughly happy. She whispered in his ear, "It had a great time with you, too. And Cal's ballcap worked like a charm."
"That was amazing, Amy! I know I'm gonna hate myself for saying this - when I'm still here - but that's really a major fuckin' achievement."
"Good ol' Bodie," she sighed.
"I'm only sayin' -"
"I know." She took his cigarette, and flicked the ash off it. "Ass-kisser. But you got an honest streak a mile wide. You know that?"
"Well," he said lamely. "It's true. I was talkin' with you, the cap... sorta buzzed, and I had no fuckin' idea why I was strapped down. No clue. Hell, I didn't know anything. Not even my name."
"You had a few names for Cal-Boss," Amy said, returning his smoke. "Words I didn't even know you knew."
"Oh. I did? Am I in trouble?"
"Kiddo, it respects you even more if you swear like a patchholder."
"It didn't say one word. Not one. Do you know how crazy-making that is? When I don't know why it's tickling me? Shit... Amy, I remember it all. And I just couldn't figure out what the hell those gloves were gonna do. But the second they started..." He shuddered - well, it was more like a convulsion that time - and kicked out a happy little whoop. "I was fifteen again. When you jumped me behind the bleachers... dragged me into the landscaping shed -"
"How well I remember."
"That shock. Oh, fuck - not that! Anything but tickling!"
"Hell, yeah." She touched his right nipple, and had one finger circle it lightly. He squirmed. "Tickling. And you remember the cap being pulled on, the last time? All your memories coming back?"
"Well, now. Uh-huh... Stop that," he said, still looking at his chest.
"No."
"Uh. I'm hungry."
She had to laugh, then. "How convenient. Guess I'll have to leave you alone for a minute. Get you some food."
"Yeah. Please."
As he ate, the action on the screens held his attention. Not that he had a choice or anything. That was the whole idea.
The bikers did not look happy about it...
Well, okay. Some did. They were goofin'. Overloaded, but Bodie figured his face didn't always show how much he got into the excitement -
"Wait a minute," he whispered.
He studied the faces on the monitor screens. All of 'em looked like they were... swamped. But how many were in pain? That one. Yeah. But he only had a couple days' beard on him. Bodie had to remember to ask Amy if that guy was... new.
One other guy looked like he was being roasted alive - but as Bodie watched, his expression changed. A smile appeared - and then it was gone. During his next smoke, it came back. Not the look of a guy in pure agony.
And the rest? Smirking. Big grins. Their eyes were scrunched up - maybe, half of 'em - but the rest of their faces looked like they were thinking of their favorite dirty joke, the one that cracked 'em up whenever they thought of it. If he didn't look at their eyes, almost all of 'em looked like they were... enjoying themselves.
The eyebrows, though. Fighting -
They didn't like to lose. A-ha. And damn, if there was anything they all had in common - Bodie included - it was that they were defeated...
He heard a low chuckle. Behind him. He knew that voice -
A pair of leather gloves was coasting over. To him! And one of 'em was holding something...
Another smoke was stuck between his lips. Amy. He was glad she was there. That other tickler, it was dangerous. Insanely good. His lighter came, waited for him to suck in, and snapped shut.
"How's little Nineteen doin' today?"
"I'm twenty," he said - and immediately wanted to crawl under the stocks. Not your age, asshole. Room Nineteen.
Amy and Cal-Boss started laughing.
"So you want two rooms, now?" she said, from somewhere near his right side. "Just for you?"
"He's got it bad, alright," Cal-Boss decided.
"No -"
The leather glove tossed something over him. White - shiny.
"Been thinkin' about ideas for more cells anyway," Boss said amiably.
Bodie stared... as a pair of satin gloves were pulled on. Amy. Oh, no. Shit, they're all out to get me...
Something fell out of one of the shiny hands.
Leather to his left, satin to his right -
"Amuseur. Let's you and me have us a contest."
He tried to shake the stocks. "No, now. Oh, shit. C'mon!"
The cloth fingers held up... a grease pencil. "O-kay."
"Split him, right down the middle."
Bodie lunged around, until one glove landed on each of his pecs. Black, white -
They pinned his arms.
Amy laughed, and brought the pencil down. "You mean... like this?"
The pencil touched his throat, and dragged. Down. Leaving a fat red line.
"I'm b-beggin' you," he whined.
"Uh-huh," Boss said. "All the way down."
"And up," Amy agreed. "Y'know, this is going to wear off, though."
"India ink?"
"You got any?"
Bodie tried to buck. The gloves lifted off - and clamped down again. Over his thighs.
Amy continued to draw... right through the center of his belly button. That was when he started to chortle.
"Yeah," Boss said. "Lookin' good, there."
The pencil crawled over his meat. Up to his piss-slit... and thankfully, it lifted off.
"I nuke this side, and you nuke that one," she said.
Bodie yowled once, and kept snickering. Frantic -
"Plenty of speed."
"And Lafrinex."
"Nah," Boss said, "Kiterol's better for long-term work."
"Long... and deep."
They both paused. He looked from one side to the other, waiting -
The gloves let go of him.
As they floated away, the conflicting emotions made him want to... hit something.
"Sounds like a plan."
Amy took his cigarette away. "Later. But yeah. We're there."
He was so relieved they weren't gonna do it right then, he kept his mouth shut.
"It'll be good to have a rabbit in the place."
"Class it up..."
"Watch it."
The leather gloves curled up into fists. One of 'em popped Bodie on the tricep. He grunted, and bit his lip.
"Don't forget about me, bro," it said. "Definitely gonna be gettin' that wild-ass smile out of you again."
"Say thank-you to 'Sir' Cal-Boss, now," Amuseur ordered. "For tickling you."
"Aw hell," he mumbled. Not too embarrassing. Yeah, like he wanted to encourage this tickler any more th-
A couple fingers - totally invisible - rubbed his nipples.
She saw a big ol' grin come over his face.
"Uh. Thanks, Mister Cal-Boss. Thank you very much for tickling me... hard."
"He's got a mouth on him," it chuckled. Then one of its gloves shot an easy salute to Amy's, and the satin hands waved back.
Bodie heard the crinkle of a new pack being opened... but he was watching the leather gloves go away. Making sure they weren't gonna double back and really fuck with him.
- - 13 - -
"I'm bored," he announced, a few smokes later.
Amy made a noise. Amazement. "Bodie. Could you possibly say anything dumber than that? In here?"
He looked around. "Oh. Uh..."
Two other voices laughed along with her.
"Suicidal fucker."
"He don't seem to understand his situation."
She sighed. "He just likes it too much. Big expectations."
"Uh-huh."
"Sorry," he said.
"Oh yeah. Sure." She picked up the satin gloves, and dropped 'em on his chest.
"Really. I'll, uh... be good..."
"I know. Wait right here." The door of the room opened and closed.
"Now you've done it," a guy's voice said.
One of the gloves jumped up. Filled -
"Done what?" he complained, squirming as he watched it. This was ridiculous. He was, like, fair game for any tickler who strolled by...
The fingers rubbed together slowly, making that little slithery sound - exciting, and so damn scary. "I don't know yet," the voice said. "But it's never a good idea to give 'em ideas, bro."
"I didn't - Hey. Are you talkin' about... all you guys? Ticklers?"
Oh no. Fuck. The glove curled around his left bicep - and kept going. Under.
"Nah," it said. "Women."
The fingers slid into the upper part of his armpit, so slowly, and started combing -
He moaned, just as slow - and busted up, laughing at the video screens.
"Bored, huh?" the voice said. Then the glove dug in.
He just hooted like a fool, flailing around.
The other glove was picked up, and it started getting firm -
"Humigore," Amy said. "I turn my back for ten seconds -"
It just cackled.
"You know better," she continued. "I mean, damn. Don't touch him..."
Whew, he thought. But that didn't make sense, really, coming from her -
"Unless you're gonna do it right."
No, he thought. Amy, no!
"Oh," the other voice said. "Alright, then."
Both gloves flew down his side, and Bodie squealed like a pig. Arching -
Humigore mauled his ribs, then raked the fingers across to the other side, rubbing so firmly. After about twenty seconds the satin pulled off.
"You mean... like that?" he said.
"Better," Amy snapped. "I'd go with eight or ten gloves, though."
"How about twenty?"
"How... 'b-bout just kill me now, g-get it over with."
She laughed at him. "Like you can't take it. Please..."
Behind him, there was a rattle. Familiar -
A videotape, being shoved into a deck.
"Eyes forward, inmate," she announced. "The big monitor on the right..."
When the image appeared, it took him a few seconds to catch on. "Damn..."
He smirked at the guy on the screen.
It was him.
Not this visit, though. Fewer tats. He was tied to a bench, in the locker room.
So that's when he was here before. It had to be three years ago. The cell looked just like a small locker room, too. It fooled him. Half of it was caged off, and the only light bulb was on the other side of the wire -
The whirlpool. Oh, yeah. He'd never forget that. And that fuckin' massage table -
The lightning bolts hadn't even been tattooed on his forearms yet, so this tape had to be from his first or second night there. His hair was a lot shorter. And that bench...
"Damn," he whispered. "Sneaky, Amuseur."
"What?"
"So I have been here. At this particular... asylum."
"Uh-huh. Room Four."
Weeks of his life were spent on that bench. And that massage table. Delirious weeks.
On the screen, an object floated over him. Big, white... A plastic bottle of oil. Oh, fuck. He watched his younger self thrash around - but there was a huge fuckin' smile on his face. It was, what, the tenth time Amy had grabbed him. Maybe the eleventh...
The oil dripped off his sides, and younger Bodie's screams for help went up an octave - because a half-dozen rubber gloves were slowly floating down.
"Now look close," Amy said. The picture on the monitor changed.
A thin guy, well into his forties, with full-sleeve tats. Thrusting slowly... being tickled by twenty or thirty fur brushes.
He was beyond squirming. The pain wasn't there, any more, in his face. Scrunched-up eyes. On the small monitors it wasn't as obvious, but when they put it on the bigger screen there was no mistaking it. That dude was smiling...
The picture changed again - a massive Hispanic dude. Prison tats, and the bar-and-shield... He was tied to something like a huge footstool, legs in the air. His feet were being worked over by rotary tools. Gagged, hair dripping with sweat - and his eyes were half-open. Bodie couldn't possibly read agony into his expression. Yup, he was blissed-out. No stress there. And he'd bet money that as soon as a rest break came, the guy would toughen up. He'd never let that delight show. Smoke a few, with that stony-faced mask all the tough guys had, ready to kill something. Until the polishers clicked on again.
And then another guy suddenly filled the screen. Fucker made the last guy look like a wimp. Younger guy, on a rack, maybe into steroids. He had a black hood on... and an insane web of thin leather straps. Dozens of them. Was he in the room with all the padlocks on the outside...? There were feathers dusting him, and some dragging their stem-parts around on his feet. Plus little thin things in his armpits - those tools dentists use, the rubber-tipped ones that Amy got such a kick out of. The guy's fists were wrapped up tight. There were all kinds of straps anchoring the hood. Fucker could breathe, and that was about it. But his mouth has this huge, insane grin. Forced - sure. Okay. But he didn't look angry.
He looked... driven.
Bodie thought of sex - that had to be what his own face looked like when he was getting off. He blinked a couple times - and the picture had changed again. Locker room...
His first time here - and dammit, he had the same look in his eyes as the 'roid-head did. Wild. Just one totally driven dude. No anger left. Tickle harder, dammit. Full speed ahead. The lack of suffering couldn't have been any clearer -
"I get it," he told her.
"What do you get?" Amy asked.
"No suffering. There."
"Or anywhere. Almost. They learn to enjoy it, instead."
"Because they have to -"
"That's right."
A lock sprang open. The top-board holding his wrists started to move.
"There - that's the fucker behind all those padlocks on that one door," Bodie mumbled, rubbing his wrists... and watching himself laugh on tape. So hysterical. "The guy with the hood. Ain't it?"
Amy sighed. "Uh-huh."
On to Part 4
Back to Part 1 - Part 2
20oct02