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- - 19 - -
 

Gloves hid his feet. That many fingers...
All moving.
The crowd slowly tickled their way up to his knees.
Bodie laid there, breathing hard. Whimpering now and then. His arms were way out from his head, as far as they'd go. Same thing with his legs. He couldn't fuckin' rock back and forth, and he really wanted to. It wouldn't change a thing, but man, he wished he could...
Let's go for a walk. That's what she'd said. And Bodie, being a big dope, said okay. He'd just ridden up to Cal-Boss' place - on a cool fuckin' bike. That was great. He'd been back from the palace about a week, and the ride to Utah was seriously different than the last, what, nine months had been. Amy came and got him - early - but she wouldn't tell him shit. She got him home, and tickled him on his own couch for a day. And then she took off. Working on something... But she got him good, the same morning he rolled up. Didn't she though. He was fucked. Again.
C'mon, inmate. Let's just see what's over this hill. And so on. When he was way out in the fuckin' wilderness, the rag pressed over his mouth. That smells like chloroform, he thought to himself... and there he was. Spread out.
The plastic was stuck to him. That sucked. Amy had trimmed it, all around him. Just enough to keep the sand off - or him off the sand. Everywhere he looked, there was sand.
Big honkin' stakes pounded into the ground. The rawhide straps were caught tight. Keeping him right where he was.
He glanced at the sun. It seemed like it was lower. She really got him good, this time - lost in the desert.
She'd gone to a lot of trouble. Bodie figured that was why he couldn't see the plastic he was laying on. Not unless he turned his head... Relaxed, like he was, he'd open his eyes and just see the sky. All that sand, out of the side of his eye. And the pouches.
Two old leather bags. Narrow. Stained. There was a piece of leather connecting them. Just off the stagecoach - no, that wasn't it.
Ah. Pony express rider. There it is. Some guy lost his mail-pouches...
And Amuseur had a different use for them.

A few hours ago, he woke up. Staked out. No clothes on. Good thing he'd gotten such a killer tan, at the palace -
And the old mailbags floated over. Set down, a few yards away from him. Where he could see 'em real easy. A flap opened, and a water bottle slid out.
That was the side that had food in it. Beef jerky. No wrapper or anything, just dusty strips. And some apples.
He'd told her there better be some cigarettes magically cruising out, pretty damn soon...
But the other pouch held just what he expected. And wanted. Feared...
Gloves, feathers, brushes, oil.
He'd called her name, over and over. But she didn't say a damn word. Just got busy, tickling. He recognized her style. No other tickler was fuckin' stupid enough to ignore the tat on his right shoulder. Conejo feliz. Don't you mess with me...
Amy was spending the hours real well. Oh yeah. He was totally crazed. Suffering...
But he got into that.

If she didn't make him cum, before she got through, he was gonna lose his mutherfuckin' mind. But she knew that. Bodie wasn't about to bet she'd leave him alone, there.
When he could think straight, he tried to decide who was worse. Amuseur, Cal-Boss, Tor. They each had their specialties. And they all were supreme mind-fuckers, which jazzed things up completely. Even his loyalty to Amy couldn't help him decide. Or his awe, where Cal-Boss was concerned. And Tor just had a fuckin' field day in his head. It kept complimenting his enthusiasm, saying each syllable carefully in that way it had with the bigger words. An honest tickler - or at least it had done a damn fine job convincing him that it was...
The gloves slid over his sides. He squealed for mercy, and he didn't mean it at all. Almost no voice left. He'd quit talking to Amy after the first couple hours. Begging, joking, demanding she say something, dammit. Pump him off.
Bodie saw buzzards earlier, way up over him. Circling real slow. They weren't there anymore, but he'd watched 'em. Laughed at 'em, as if they were Lassie or something. I'm getting tickled down here. By a ghost. Go get help... And they kept on circling, ignoring him. No help there.
Nothing would've been more embarrassing - okay, more disappointing. And he kept looking. It was weird. Somebody walking into view - off in the distance. He'd go ballistic, trying to get their attention. He'd done it before. It was automatic. Stop the torture... and his next fuckin' thought would be shut up, asshole, don't blow this setup. That came second. What he really wanted, if he had time to think it over. But the first instinct was to look for a plane, a hot-air balloon. Listen for dirt bikes. Get me outa here...

He and Tor had played with that drive. Attracting the rescuers. It was one of their little games, because he always fell for it. Did you hear that, feliz? That rustling, outside? It's hikers. They're coming. Closer. But they won't see the palace, because we have it hidden too well. They must hear you, hombrê. Now. They will rescue all you rabbits, make Bodie a big hero...
And when he snagged a breath to yell for 'em - help us! save me! - Tor would curl a glove over his mouth and clamp down tight. Uh-oh. Bodie, oh no, they're as close to the palace as they're gonna be... still hiking... now they're going away. Frantic little conejo. Your chance is hiking away from you. Aw. Too late. The rescue party is gone. Feliz fucked it up. And you may not get another chance like that. Well, I guess I'll take this glove away now - and let's hear you laugh a little harder instead. Harder, Bodie. Shit like that.

Amy had some bandannas here, now that he thought about it. She'd wiped the sweat off his face -
He grinned real big. Imagining it...

The fingers keep tickling and tickling. It's all he knows now. Hell, he gave up on breaking the straps a long time ago. Hours ago. Impossible... but here he is. Fuckin' baked by the sun, which heats the oil... And the palms slide over the oil, cupping his tits, traveling up and down his thighs -
The feathers! They're back again. Sweeping his feet. Bodie's legs twitch. His toes move slowly. Not as slow as the feathers... which never fuckin' stop.
He cackles a few times, and groans softly. Pale blue sky. Sand.
Ants...?
He blinks until his eyes aren't so blurry. Animals, maybe. Far away. Coyotes at ten o'clock. They're afraid of people, aren't they? Nothing to worry about. For them, either. I won't hurt you, coyotes, I'm staked out real good. All I can do is laugh at ya -
The gloves creep back into his armpits, then, and he's just overwhelmed. Can't keep his eyes open. It's astounding. He can't do anything. Oh, fuck, the inside of his thighs. That oil.
Every second is... shocking. A continuous flow of sharp pleasure. Way too much. It never fuckin' stops.

Later - a minute, a couple hours, he can't tell - he opens his eyes. Gulping air. Black leather crawling, polishing, whether he watches or not. Sky. Sand -
There they are. They're big. Tall. What are they?
Hey.
Naw. I'm hallucinating. That's it.
What's the word? Delirious. Tickled so much I'm loopy. It's like I have a fever. Or I'm really high. A natural tickling high. Free high. Free. Yeah, right. No charge.
Wait. Oh. They're people. Two, three, four... Four people. What the hell are they -
I'm high.
Fuck, they look real.
Hey. Help me...

Bodie lifted his head. He picked out another spot on their imaginary path. That little hill, way over there...

Hiking, maybe. They're not in any big hurry. Goofing around. Get over here...
A sound. Very faint. Laughter. Bodie checks to see if he's laughing. Nope. Dammit, he wants to be over there too. C'mere, you guys. Cut these straps.
He heard 'em. So... Wait, how far away are they? Maybe the sound travels farther in the desert. Fucking sand, and heat -
The gloves pick that moment to land on his belly again. Rubbing. Snuggling....
His head falls back down, and he throws it back and forth for awhile. Fuck. The tickling is killing him. So insane. Catch a biker and tickle him. Like this. He can't take it any more.
He looks again. Please, please, please. I can't bust these straps, and if you don't help me I'm gonna... stay here. For this. More tickling.
Or maybe not.
Look. You guys. Over here...

They're bigger. They must be getting closer. Shit. If he can see them, they can see him. Right? He hopes so. They have to see him. If they don't look over here, he's fucked.
He might get out of here yet. Oh, fuck. Oh, please. It could be over real soon.
Guys. He thinks. Can't see their faces. He's on the ground...
Bodie looks at himself. Dark brown. Solid tattoos. He's a lot darker than the sand. They can't miss him, if they fuckin' look -
Laughing. They're laughing again. Did they see him? Are they laughing at him... No. Dammit. One of 'em must've told a joke. What's so fuckin' funny, there? Come over here, he thinks, and I'll show you something that quit being funny about five hours ago. Get your asses over here.
Here. Come here...

They've got to - they just have to get him out of this ridiculous fuckin' nightmare tickling marathon. End it. Right now. Game over. He's just gotta get out of this. Now. Yeah..
This way. Come and find me -
Oh, man - what the hell is wrong with him? He should be yelling at 'em. That'll do it. Bodie's voice is weak, from all the laughing, but it's not totally shot. It can't be. He only needs a couple good shouts. That's all. They'll look around, about fuckin' time they do, and see him. Point, and start coming. Yeah. The ghost can't get all four of 'em at once. Five. Five guys. No way. Seeya, I'm gonna leave with them now. You're not gonna tickle me any more. Check this out -
He yells - ouch. It hurts. Real disappointing. Fuck, he's hoarse.
The flap on the pouch moves, suddenly - and a bandanna zips out.
Bodie just looks at it. What?
It's moving fast -
Gag. Wait...
No. Oh, shit. He slams his head down, but something lifts it right back up again. The cloth lands against his lips.
And finally, he screams again, but it's not that much louder than the first one. The bandanna forces his jaws apart -
His next yell isn't even a yell, really. It ain't shit. All garbled. Bodie is scared, all of a sudden. Real scared. He tries to pull his head free... and shouts just as hard as he can.
Fuck!

As the ends of the bandanna are being tied behind his head, he tries one more scream... and then he just wails miserably. No...
I need to yell and get their attention -
Oh no, you don't. The ghost just made it real clear. No yelling. They won't hear you now, Bodie. You're not giving them any reason to come this way. They won't change their course, and they're not gonna see you from way over there. So they just walk off, now, and leave you here... with me.
The gloves keep right on tickling him. And the feathers.
Bodie chews on the gag, whining into it, tugging at the straps.
Well, of course. The ghost doesn't want him to be rescued. What it's been doing is what it wants to keep doing - hell, what it will keep doing. It's not letting him go yet -
Oh, fuck, he's not leaving.
If only he wasn't gagged. Yell, real loud, make 'em look. See him. Hey, what's that thing? Over there, on the ground?
He looks at the hikers. They gotta fuckin' see him! They just have to, and then everything will be okay. No more of this shit. Please, you just gotta look over here and see me. Please. I'm over here.

Leather is cupped over the crest of his ribs, rubbing slow. He really can't stand it. That spot, covered just that way, oil on it, palms sliding over...
Stay put, Bodie.
The thought just makes him nuts. He has to get away from this fucker. But he's not going to...
Good-bye, hikers. No help at all. They don't even know he's here, with the ghost making him crazy. Aw, hell, they wouldn't leave him here, if they only knew.
But they are leaving. No point in pretending they aren't.

Just like the ghost intended, I'm staying here. Aren't I, you fuckin' tickler? Off they go. So things stay just the way they were. I'm all yours. Bring it on. Get busy, all your hands at once.
He trembles. All your hands? How many - There are eight gloves. So far - shit. But that don't mean anything. Maybe a lot more hands -
A squeal slips out, but he holds back the next one. He had to think... Hands, gloves. Taking 'em out of the mail-bags. See these? Fucker? The ghost pulled 'em on. All geared up. Ready to rock.
But it carried the mail-bags. Oh, shit... The gloves look just like they had hands in 'em. Pulled on - he watched 'em. The gloves were pulled over hands. Ghostly hands, all decked out in leather. He can't see the hands, so they brought him some gloves... Leather gloves tickling him. Making him sweat.
All day - maybe all night? Like this? It's got him. Bodie, under attack. Caught good. In its hands.
Safe in the tickler's hands.

Aw, that does it. He's off. Laughing again. He doesn't know why, really. In its hands. Definitely.
He just roars, as if the gag wasn't there, and rolls his head around some more. Oh, yeah. Here I am. And it doesn't even have real hands, not human hands... But I know what they can do. Can't even see 'em. Oh, yeah. So fuckin' true - it's got me in its hands. They're in the gloves... These gloves, and those gloves, and that pair. All of 'em. Hands in the gloves. Bodie in its hands. They're workin' on each side of my ribs, big ol' gloves, oiled up, impossible tickling. And I'm between 'em. In between. In its hands. Or the ones in my armpits... When they pull out the fuckin' stops, I'm the middle layer. Very capable hands.

Bodie drops his head and hoots at the sky. It's got me... in its hands! So fuckin' funny.
Occupied gloves, and they never get tired. Do they. It'll wrap those fingers around my shins again, and my calves... at the same time. Surrounded by hands. Back to my feet again, top and bottom, and there's not a fuckin' thing I can do about it. Another hour, gloved hands, never holding still - Oh. Hell, yeah. That's even better - my cock. One fist, slippery, leather, and I'm there. In... Wait, that's only one hand. Another one, then. Playing with my balls. There - the tickler's gonna have me in its hands, no matter what. Just like it's been doin' all afternoon. Bodie's in your hands, here. You got him staked out real nice. Ain't goin' away. Tickle him. Keep tickling. You're secret's safe w-
Safe?
Safe in its hands. Held tight in the tickler's - Oh, fuck, he's gotta howl. It's just hilarious! Tears run down the sides of his head.
Secure, maybe. He can't move. Tickler's got me. Invisible hands. And then it brought the gloves out. And the oil. Oh... yeah. How about these hands, Bodie? Smooth fingers. You're in my hands now.
No. I wanna get away from your merciless hands -
He thrashes around, so frustrated he could cry. Tickler's hands, oily hands, it knows how to use 'em. Staying right where I am, and there's no fuckin' chance I'll get away from the tickler's hands...

Sweating in the sun. Oiled up right.
Fingertips are crawling and sliding around, under his knees.
The sound of their voices is fading away. The free people. Maybe the ghost will send another pair of those hands up and plug his ears. Nobody there, Bodie. Laugh harder. I got you in my hands. And you know I'm going to keep 'em on you. Keep 'em busy. They're magic hands -
He opens his eyes, all of a sudden. The hikers. Lifting his head again, and squinting...
There. Please. Save me.
He roars laughter at 'em. Help! Dammit, I need you to walk over here! This way! Look... Check out these hands. I'm caught in the hands of this magic psychopath.
Just... pause. Fire up a doobie. Look around, take in the scenery. Please.

Nope. The first three wander on ahead. Disappearing behind another one of those damn hills. Mini-hills. One by one, they walk out of his life. Each one confirming, as they disappear, that - hell, yeah - he's going to spend the whole fuckin' night staked out like this. Gloves, and feathers. Skilled hands, fuckin' continuing what they're doing right now. All night. Shivering, and laughing. Silently. No chance of hailing anybody, after his voice was truly shot -
The last hiker pauses. Bodie's getting tired of holding his head up, but he can't help it. Willing the guy to look, over here, just look one time, dammit! Shouting. The gag stays tight. Oh, the guy's gotta look over and see...
Getting shorter. Oh, shit! Walking away. Directly away, down a hill. Nooooo... Wait. He's not moving. Bodie recognizes the posture, then. Lighting a smoke. He'd bet anything -
Wider? No. Legs apart. Just standing there... he's pissing.
And he's aiming it in the right direction.
Bodie slams his head up and down. Screaming as loud as he can. Here! Look here... I need -
The figure moves.
Following the others.

And Bodie, he just flips out then. Battling the straps like he never has before. Furious. Panicking...
No other hikers all day. He's stuck here. He just knows it'll be all night. Maybe tomorrow too. Tickled - aw hell, why couldn't the stupid fucker just glance over, and see him? Why? Sure, he's low, staked out on the ground like this, but the guy might've seen him anyway.
Come back...
When he looks back over - just in case there are four figures, running to him, gonna rescue him from the tickling ghost - he sees the last hiker disappear behind the hill.
Gone.
Bodie drops his head, shaking it weakly. No.
They're gone. They get to leave. I don't...
That's 'cause I'm in its hands tonight -
And the sensation of the gloves, the feathers, just catches fire. Stronger, really intolerable now.

The tickling hasn't changed. Not since the hikers first came into view. It didn't pause, and the tickler's not double-timing it now. No need. He's still in its hands. The hikers didn't matter at all...
But he forgets how to breathe, Bodie does, because he's unable to do anything except get tickled, all day, and now all night.
He knew he was stuck before. But then, all of a sudden, he had a chance. To see them just stroll on by - and watch 'em go away... It just makes him insanely ticklish. Crazy, superhuman, riveting sensitivity.
The gag is untied. It's soaked with drool. Bodie doesn't laugh. Not now. Since the feel of the tickling stepped up, so much he can't fuckin' comprehend it, he's way beyond howling. Too much work. Hell, he can't even squirm anymore. He's directing all his energy into knowing how ticklish he is now.
Tickler's hands, phantom hands, owned by the ghost now, right in its hands...
No hope. The hikers left. Left him. Left him to the ghost. Caught good. Stuck tight.
Bodie's there to feel it. Just like this. That's exactly what he's gonna do.
 

 
- - 20 - -
 

Stars. A lot more stars than he can see in the city.
"Sweet little Bodie..."
He yawned. "Naw. I'm a bad mutherfucker."
Amy laughed. "Who's been telling you that?"
"You."
"Oh, yeah. Well, you're a sweet mutherfucker, then."
"Stop it."
"So cute -"
"Amy."
A water bottle taps his hand. And when it was empty he finally got a cigarette, poking between his lips.
"Did you enjoy our desert... adventure?"
"Uh-huh." He shivered, because the air was chilly. Then he saw his jacket. On him. Full leathers. So he quit thinking he was cold.
She handed him a lighter and watched him load up. A huge sigh of relief.
"There he goes."
"Yeah. Thanks. It's not like I could've used a cigarette six hours ago."
"Holding off just made this one incredible."
He shook his head and took another drag. "Well, let's not make a habit of that."
Amy thought the word "habit" was too good to leave alone, but she saw his expression cloud over. Thinking too much. "No worries, prisoner. Chain-smoker. You're a rabbit, and that's like having a license to pollute your lungs all you want."
"They just emptied 'em out," he said. "Down there. Some extracts they have. I bet I could win a marathon now."
"Once a runner, always a runner," she giggled.
"Yeah, right... Whew," he said. "I'm wiped out."
"No you're not. You slept for four hours. Good to go."
"How long did I last, after y-"
"Seven hours, altogether... Oh. After I got your rocks off?"
"Uh... yeah."
"About a half-hour. The temperature was starting to drop."
"Huh." He was barely remembering the cum-shot. Maybe an hour after he... uh, came up with that daydream about the hikers. He was real glad she didn't know about th-
"What were you looking at? Back there? Getting all worked up. I didn't see anything."
Bodie looked down, pretty damn sure he was blushing. "You'll only use it against me."
"That tears it," Amy said. "Now I demand you tell me."
He told her.

On to Part 6
Back to Part 1 - Part 4

20oct2002