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"Hey, ass-wipe."
"What now?"
L looked over at B. "What'd you put on my computer?"
"Hah," his big brother said. "Paranoid fuck."
L frowned. "I don't wanna scan the whole disk. Just tell me."
B shook his head. "What a head-case. I just checked my mail. That's all. Okay?"
"Bullshit."
B flipped him off, and held it until he saw. Then he got his smokes out.
"Get all the way outside before you light that," L said automatically.
"Yeah, yeah..."

It took him a couple hours - but L found it. A little program, hiding in the swap file. It was sending little squirts of data to some IP address. That bastard, he thought...
Another forty-five minutes, and he gave up and went to bed. Damn B. The program kept reinstalling itself, so he'd probably have to format his hard disk and reload everything. No way he was going to let his computer keep reporting back to some unknown computer somewhere.
 

Across town, B sighed out a lungful of smoke and cracked his knuckles.
A simple web page was displayed on his computer. It contained a form which had three fields. He'd already typed in L's e-mail address and phone number. He'd moved the cursor down to the large text area, which was waiting for his mischievous input.
 

He's not gonna make his big brother go outside to smoke anymore.

He'll sleep in, which he doesn't usually do. And as soon as he's awake, he's going to want something. He doesn't know what he wants, but it's urgent. A real BAD need. He can't concentrate on anything else.
By the time he gets up, it's worse. The craving just blows him away. He takes a leak, and looks at himself in the mirror. And he's trembling. He can't stand it.
Then he walks out into his living room. And he looks at the coffee table.
There's a big mug of coffee, already there. Nice and hot, that Sumatra blend. But he stares at the other stuff on the table. His mouth starts watering.
And he's seeing a carton of Hunters. Hunter reds, soft pack. A full carton. There's also a box of matches, and a big silver lighter. And an enormous ashtray, with about twenty cigarette butts are already in it.
He's got a major nicotine deficiency going on, and he can't wait. Just can't wait. While he was asleep, there were some changes going on. The little cells in his brain, those receptors that love nicotine, have all woken up. They're firing as if he'd been smoking for a few months. Smoking a lot. Overnight he's past all the getting used to smoke in his nose and his lungs. He's right in the zone where having a cigarette is nothing but fun. Big fun.
And his hands move like old pros.
He sets himself down and grabs the lighter. Fires one up. And it's EXACTLY what he was craving. It's perfect. He relaxes, and drops the lighter, gets the remote. Turns on the game, and gets his coffee mug. And he settles back and smokes, happier than he's been in a long, long time.
He sits around all day, and smokes like a freight train.
Later, his brother comes over with a pizza, and he lets him smoke in the house. They both do. He breaks out the Southern Comfort, and they sit around and get shitfaced. Smoking - inside his house, watching porn, feeling great.
 

"I don't get it," L said.
B grinned at him, good and drunk. But he didn't say anything.
"I mean, shit. I never smoked a cigarette before, You know that?"
"Yeah."
"Not 'til today. And damn, now I get it. Why you smoke so much. This is... great."
"You gotta get you some more ashtrays."
L looked at the cigarette in his hand. "Guess so."

The next morning, L was a little anxious when he woke up. He couldn't think of anything that was wrong, though.
Laying there was cool - until he remembered. The cigarettes.
He had to get up and smoke one. Then he felt okay. Put on some coffee... Found a game on the tube.
L was glad his brother had come over... but B was totally shocked about the cigarettes. What a reversal. But he loved 'em.
If he hadn't been smoking until after his big bro stopped by, he would've been... suspicious. His brother knew his drugs. Something on the pizza, maybe. But B hadn't had a chance to slip him anything on Friday. How weird.

Later, he checked his e-mail. There was a number he'd written on the back cover of a magazine, lying there on his desk. An IP address. That got him wondering.
It redirected a couple times. He had to find another tracer program and download it.
Eventually, he stared at a simple web page with three form fields.
If he didn't have reason to connect it to his brother - what had B been doing? - he would've forgotten all about it. But he left it up on his screen, thinking about the day before.
After a few smokes, he sat up and put his hands on the keyboard. Feeling like a sucker...
 

He doesn't smoke those menthols anymore.
He only wants to smoke Hunters.

His brother came back into the living room, draining his beer. Watching the stripper on the TV screen, he got his pack out and lit another smoke off the last one...
L kept watching him.
"What?" B said.
L pointed toward the pack that B had hauled out. "New brand?"
B shifted around. "Aaaah, I saw yours, thought what the hell." His eyes narrowed. "Why?"
"Just... noticing. It's always been 'Lakes. Ever since high school."
B was definitely suspicious. "Like you should talk."
L looked at his ashtray, and didn't say anything. He was smokin' a lot. Tomorrow he'd scale it back. Couldn't be runnin' outside every half-hour at work like the mailroom guys did.

B sat and thought for a few cigarettes.
Then he started typing...
 

He works too hard. His company's on the skids. If he wasn't busting his ass, it would be gone already. But they're stupid fuckers.
So he's going to get called into the CEO's office, and find out they're getting out of the firewall business. His team is sitting in the conference room already. A piece of paper is set in front of him. Nice payoff. Real nice. Smaller payoffs for his staff. No more new development.
He signs it. Walks into the conference room with the CEO. Doesn't say anything. Not a word. Goes and cleans out his office.
On the way home, he's got to make a stop at his broker's. He sells all his stock in the company.
When he gets home, his brother's already there. And after he says what happened to him that day, his cool big brother digs into his coat pocket, and pulls out a bag of excellent Thai stick. They do what comes naturally. And he loves it.

L looked at his screen, reflexively proofreading what he'd typed.

He doesn't know why, but he decides he wants to get some new shirts. Maybe he picks up a couple, but he doesn't stop looking until he finds just the right one.
It's hot pink. Solid pink, so bright it almost hurts his eyes. Long sleeves, hiding almost all of his tattoos. Something that he can pull on and admire. Tight t-shirt, or a rugby shirt. Sweatshirt. But it's obnoxiously pink. He puts it on proudly, and goes over to his brother's house.

"Hey," L said, closing the door - and then he froze.
B sprawled in same chair he always did, a black leather recliner... wearing the usual. Leather pants and jacket, shitkicker boots - and wow! Bright pink. A spandex bicycle shirt.
"How'd your day go?" B asked, grinning.
"You're not gonna believe... Nice shirt," he said casually. All that badass leather, and that shirt!
B laughed, and finished his smoke. "Well, I like it. Don't know why..."
"No, I mean it," L said, getting a beer. He walked quickly into the kitchen, because he was going to crack up. It took everything he had to keep his voice normal. "Works... for ya. With the usual ex-con shit you wear." He made his face sober up. "You can pull off anything."
"I know. But... thanks," B said.
Incredible, L thought. His brother, wearing anything pink - it was weird. About as likely as the tax rate going down. What a bizarre day.
"So guess what happened to me today... asshole," L taunted.
"What?" B asked innocently. His hand slipped into the pocket of his jacket, making sure the big, fat joints were still there.
 

Time for the guy to get laid. Been way too long.
Today is the day he wakes up and knows that Alice is really not gonna come back. He lets his brother talk him into hunting up some poontang.

If he doesn't handle his money better, he's going to blow it all.
So this morning he's gonna actually take a shower, and put on a clean shirt. And at two o'clock, he's going to meet with his brother's accountant. He's not going to leave until his portfolio's cleaned up. Dump all those stocks that are going down the tubes, get into some muni bonds. He's going to end up with at least one-third of his money locked away where he can't get at it for a long, long time. But he'll be set for life. He'll let the accountant talk him into some annuities, and some gold. The rest, he can sink into aggressive tech stocks. So he'll be able to blow money the same way he goes through it now, and still have most of it safe, earning a good return.
He'll tell his brother all about it, and admit how stupid he is. He'll say he should have been listening a long time ago, about a lot of things. He's going to start thinking about his life.
It's time to make some changes.

"I'm proud of you, dude."
B shrugged. "Shoulda listened sooner, to y-"
"Wow," L chuckled. "Never thought I'd hear that, coming from you."
"And Dean says I'm gonna make even more than I was before."
L nodded. His brother. What a dope. B had been in the right place at the right time. Fluke. A janitor... When L found out where, he nagged B and lent him money until he started buying stock in the ragged little start-up. He didn't let up until his brother knew the company's software inside and out. The head of R&D was a major pothead. He and B definitely hit it off. The first IPO made him rich - or what they considered rich...
L wouldn't let him rest until he sank it back into more options. He sank all that he had into the company, too. B talked his way into marketing. He was in his element, there. The party guy. The new web client hit at the right time, and the buyoff offer made them obscenely rich. Then L's company started to peak, too...
B got out and had fun. Now, his money was finally set up so he couldn't blow it all. The fact that he was worth so much more - just another stoner, and it basically fell into his lap - had always been annoying to L.
"Tonight, though... we're gonna celebrate," B said.
L shook his head, out of reflex. He started to think about Alice - another reflex - and it was like she was ancient history.
With a little shock, L realized what he really wanted... was pussy.
"And it's on me," B said. Mr. Big Shot. "Secret Pink. You won't believe this one blonde they got there -"
"No," L said. Thinking of tits. "Uh -"
B laughed. "Yeeeeah. I know that expression. Oh, yeah. And I got a couple of babes at Reggie's you gotta meet," B leered. He watched his brother gulp, thinking hard.
"Babes?"
"Dude... they're gonna like you. Let's get ripped tonight. I'm not gonna give up until you pick one of 'em. Any one. They're hot, bro." He leaned a little closer. "Been too long. You're overdue. And you know I'm ready... We're gonna get some."
L looked at him, and dug for his smokes.
"You and me. Let's go."
He watched his little brother light a cigarette... and grin like a wolf. And he grinned back.
All L could do was laugh.
"Alright. Where's my coat?" L said.
 

The next morning, they sat at their computers again.

That hair has to go. No more looking like a holdup guy. He's going to go and get a buzz cut. Real short.

He's going to discover speed today. Give it a good try, the rest of the week. See how the other half lives.

"Why don't you crash for a while, dude," B said mildly.

He's gotta sleep it off. Then he's going to Vegas for the weekend. Walk into the casino, get a room, call up a particular escort service. Top-of-the-line fun. He won't come up for air for a couple days. When he checks out, he'll walk through the casino, get in his car and go home.

That's enough with the drinking. He'll start in on the Jack Daniels, as usual... but he can't keep it down. His system can't seem to tolerate it anymore.
But he wants to get drunk.
After a few days, he can start drinking again. No more vomiting, but he won't be able to get drunk. He'll try to, but he'll start to get queasy. So he'll smoke more pot, but that's not going to get him high enough anymore, either.

L drove home, so sore he could hardly walk. Something was bothering him, and he hadn't figured out what it was.

B laid in bed, with a pail close to his head, finally feeling better. He couldn't believe it... he loved to drink. What the fuck? And all weekend, so long as he didn't drink, he was okay. Not even a beer. He could toke all he wanted... but the weed was disappointing, somehow.

They both pulled up the website again...
 

It's high time to do something about his wardrobe. He's in the market for a few suits. Button-down oxfords, decent shoes. And he likes the way he feels when he's all dressed up. At least as much as his leathers.

He's going to have some serious fun. Today's the day he fixes that serious lack of porn in his house. At least five stores. He's not going to come home without at least a couple dozen magazines, ten videos. And a few toys for himself. Just for kicks.

B was too embarrassed to leave his house.

L, blown away by the sensations of a latex pump and some kind of amazingly slippery lube, wasn't going anywhere either.
 

That time, the fucker went too far.

I'm really going to get him back for that one...
 

L woke up and went out to his living room. There was a note on the table, in his handwriting. A time... and an address. He showered and got in the car, having no idea what was waiting for him. But he couldn't be late. He tried to come up with other things he had to do instead, but nothing worked.
They were expecting him. He walked down a hall, into the room they indicated. It smelled like leather in there. He stripped down and sat on the bed -
When the dominatrix made her entrance, he couldn't get his body to move. Or his mouth. She informed him of the stop-words, and made it very clear she was not going to stop - unless he used them. He nodded vigorously, and grinned like a fool - unable to do anything else. The growing panic in his head never showed on the outside, but for some reason he'd already forgotten what the stop words were.
L watched, with a distant horror, as she got the restraints on him... and opened a cabinet full of scary equipment that made him worried and excited. Both at the same time.
 

B had troubles of his own.
He woke up in a room he'd never seen before. Like a real expensive hospital, tastefully decorated in soothing colors.
One wall had been replaced with thick, clear acrylic.
A pack of Hunters sat on a little table... on the wrong side of the wall.
After he'd torn the room apart, all he found was clean ashtrays and matches. But he needed a smoke. B started checking the divider for a trick opening.

After his kinky weekend, L got a few days of peace.
He'd set B up for a full week.
 
 

"You son of a bitch."
L smiled. B was in the doorway, cigarette in his hand.
"Didn't hear you come in, bro. Aw, you still smokin'?"
"Real funny. You're dead meat."
"We'll see."

B went home and started typing. Chain-smoking, still pissed off.

L thought about it for awhile. Dead meat, huh...
He wouldn't. Not that.
But - that was the phrase. When they were younger, it only meant one thing.
L couldn't believe his brother would really go there. But he decided he had no choice.
 

He woke up in a railroad car. It was rolling along. Nobody else there.
Thick rope pinned him down on a pile of blankets.
Past his feet, there was a big footlocker. And over it -
"Oh no. No."
A pair of black leather gloves were hanging there... just so he could get a look. One good look, before th-
"No, B! C'mon!"
L started to pull and squirm.
The gloves looked oily. They coasted down...
Four others, just like 'em, started taking off his shoes.
 

B blinked again. It wasn't possible -
The room looked like some kind of fuckin'... spaceship. His clothes were gone.
Weird mesh straps anchored him to a even weirder metal chair. Custom chair.
A dozen metal arms were unfolding from a box on the ceiling. One tube squirted oil - just a little bit, as if it was being tested.
"L, I swear... you don't wanna do this..."
But what he really meant was, I don't want you to do this. Please, he thought. Maybe if I just say it. Please, don't. You win.
Most of the arms had brushes attached to 'em. The box made a soft whirring sound as they approached, targeting his belly.
The oil spigot aimed and poured. From his neck - all the way down.
"L... Okay. Please. Pllllleeeeeezzz -"
But L wasn't even there. B knew it, somehow. He was certain.
The machine couldn't be shut off. Not until the cycle was complete.
Right before the brushes touched him, they clicked and started to spin.
 

L woke up, cold and naked. Too sore to move.
When he saw his clothes, piled up alongside him, he managed to get dressed and light a cigarette.

The machine-cycle turned out to be... a long one.
B finally woke up - in his own bed. He was shaky, all day.

L got out of the cab, a day and a half after waking up in Idaho. He limped into his house...

That was it.
Both guys had never imagined they could be tickled like that. And both were shocked that the other guy actually went there. There was no greater betrayal. It was unthinkable. That the other guy would play that card -
As they recuperated, they planned their next move.
 

B hid in the bushes until his brother came home. L had changed the locks...
But he had a bad habit. When he was home, he didn't turn the alarm on.
When he was in the shower, B broke a window and crawled in. His brother's computer was already turned on.
L wiped the hard disk, and snuck back out.

He sat back and had himself a toke. That was it. On the screen, he had it just right... The scene laid out, and it was definitely going to put the little jerk-off right where he belonged.
B saved a copy, just in case. He logged on -
But L had been busy. Not only were there a dozen viruses waiting - just waiting, for B to connect - but L was still using the firewall B had helped write. Three different vulnerabilities were exploited.
B saw the little 'receive' light go on and stay on. Immediately, he pounded the 'Enter' key. Then his screen locked up -
But it was showing the confirmation screen. A plain grey rectangle. The same thing it always showed... after input was accepted.
He whooped with triumph.
 

L sat back, and took a long drag.
His brother's computer was hosed. He'd logged in. L's work was corrupting the operating system and the firmware. And he knew B... No backups.
He reopened his web browser, and went to his favorite site.
Blank form fields waited for him to describe his revenge.
B knew L had a laptop, of course. That wasn't his target. Big brother took a chance that L had only accessed the magic website from his main computer...
Unfortunately, he guessed right. The address, for the website, had been wiped. He'd have to get another FireWire system set up, just to reload his last backup and look at the logs.
But then he remembered the magazine. He dug into his recycle bin, and found it.
So he got the artillery pointed at his brother's network segment. B, as he knew, never turned off his house alarm. So L had to set up the trap, and wait.
And it worked. B's computer became nothing more than a fancy doorstop. He couldn't have had time to get anything typed in. His ass was L's...
He cracked his knuckles, and grinned at the revenge screen. Then he started to type.

He's going to be thoroughly delirious. No holds barred. None.
Feed him right, keep the water coming, and let him rest up when he needs it. And then start right in again.
Measure the response. Each spot on him, with each tool. All the combinations. Rank the effects, so he gets the maximum possible impact. Shave him. Tickle every inch of his tattooed ass, and find the absolute best way to keep him crazed.
Make it a comfortable temperature. Some place where no one can accidentially find out. Take care of everything he needs. Enough for two, because I want to be right there. I'm going to check in on him, kicked back. Watching.

A nice padded room. Locked up. Restraints all over him, so he can't even twitch.
And I want to be there to see it. Long, careful tickling. All the food and water he needs. Drugs. I want to see all kinds of feathers, brushes, gloves, toys. Ten kinds of oil. Check everything, and compare it all, so it gets more and more unbearable. It has to be customized, and it has to keep increasing.
And he doesn't get away from it by fainting or getting used to it. Let him sleep, if he has to. But when he's awake - more and more effective tickling, every fuckin' day, all day, with no end in sight.

They came around at just about the same time... and stared. At each other.

Both guys were on angled racks. Nude, and shaved. Oiled up.
Wide, shiny manacles were molded to their ankles... and their wrists.
The room was a sealed warehouse full of leather and tickling gear.
They watched, numbly, as two packs of Hunters floated up...

"What the fuck did you set up, here?" B snapped, lunging around.
"Same... thing as you," L grunted, trying to twist. "Apparently."
"Careful? Testing -"
"The whole shot."
"How long?"
L needed a drag before he could answer. "Open-ended."
B closed his eyes. And he nodded. "Dammit... I just wanted to watch."
"Me too -"
They both looked at each other. It occurred to both of 'em that yeah, they were going to watch, alright.
"How do we get out of this?" B whined.
"Uh..."
A bunch of - shapes came from behind their racks.
"I... don't know."
"You didn't set a limit on it?" B yelled. "A week, a month -"
The black things kept coming. A couple dozen. They widened a little. And both guys froze. Leather gloves. "Me?" L said frantically. "How about you?"

"Aaaaaaw - shit!" B hollered. "I didn't mean it! Cancel the whole th-"
"Call it off!" L said, trying everything he could think of to get his wrist to move. "I don't want to be... uh... Forget it!"
The gloves kept coming.
"I hope you're happy," B whined.
"Measured. Tested," L mumbled, fighting off panic. "Two - Oh, no. No..."
"What now?" his big brother yelled.
Their cigarettes were pulled from their lips and thrown down.
They tried to back up from the gloves. It didn't really work at all, laid out the way they were.
"Compared," L said. He started to giggle, before the gloves even landed. Couldn't help it. "Test subjects. What better set of guinea pigs? Big brother? Huh?"
B didn't take his eyes off a pair of gloves that were just about to touch his feet. "What?"
"Us. You moron!" L yelled. Fingers curled around... his calves. Started to slide. "Aw, fuck..." He shot one more quick look at his idiot drug-fiend brother, four minutes his senior.

"Nooooo hoo hoo hoo aaaawwww," B crowed. More and more fingers started to rub.
"Measuring us! Oh, no! It's p-perfect, it's th-"
L groaned, as the tickling started in his armpits. He threw his head around. Gotta say it. He didn't want to do this - but the gloves were about to really get going. For who knew how long.
"Suh huh huh haw aaaawww fuuccck kaw haw hawwwww yooo hooo hooo hoooooo... Unh. Us. Brother." He chuckled for a while, then grit his teeth. "Compare us both. Aw, shit. I... Identick-... tuh... tickle eye eyyyye eye dent-t... tickle... Aaaaah hah hah huh whaaaah! Tick tih aaaaah hah hah hoh hohhh, t-tickle twiih hih hih heh haw haw haw haaaaawwwll -"
"Nuh huh huh huh haw nah hah nnnnaaah! Nah!" B threw his head back and howled. The gloves were really good at tickling...
"Yeeeeah hah hah haaah haaaaw yuh yeeeeaah heh heh haaaaawhoooooo..." Yeah. L got it. Oh, shit. Not just measuring B's reactions. His, too. What a catch. Twin brothers.
Testing 'em both, comparing...
Unlimited. Time. All the time in the world.
B laughed like a crazy man.
L just squealed like he was never gonna stop.

20apr02