The hallway was quiet.
Huh? I was in an office building. Dressed and everything.
It's over, I thought. All those weeks. Tears filled my eyes...
But there were handcuffs too, keeping my arms behind my back. Not free yet. It wasn't over. This was some kind of fuckin' trick.
An easy push made it clear - I was supposed to walk. So I did.
The last thing I remembered was falling asleep in the sling. Well, more like passing out. Same as usual. And I thought I smelled smoke. It had been so long since I'd had a cigarette. I really needed one now.
As I walked down the hall, one door swung open. A hand on my shoulder turned me.
It was a psychiatrist's office, I guessed. Pretty nice.
The hand steered me over to a stuffed chair. Across from me, the door closed.
A pack of cigarettes and a lighter were pulled out of the inside pocket of the leather jacket I wore. I'd never seen the clothes before, but they were clean and comfortable. They fit me. I got to watch the smokes set down next to a big ashtray.
"Gimme one of those," I groaned. "Please -"
To my amazement, I heard the door open.
A guy was coming into the room.
Calm - as before, the blanket dropped on me. In my head.
I eased back into the chair, still wanting to bolt... or tell the guy to call the police. But I couldn't move much now.
A pulling sensation turned out to be the handcuffs. My wrists were brought around in front of me and recuffed. By that time the guy had eased himself down into the chair across from me, smiling.
Mid-thirties. Black guy, seemed nice enough.
A pack of cigarettes floated to his hand. He didn't seem surprised by that. Shaking one out, he looked around and snagged the lighter which cruised up. I watched him light up. Cough a little.
"Wow. It's been a while," he said to me.
"Please," I managed to say, "I'm... You gotta help."
"That's why you're here. I believe I can help you."
I scowled at him. "Oh yeah?"
"Your tickler's told me all about you."
The guy took another drag and watched me. He was completely calm. The tickler was controlling him...
My nightmare wasn't over yet. Back to the stocks, after this. I felt defeated - again. "So what's my problem?"
He smiled, leaning back. "Well. Normally I'd get you to tell me. But this situation is unusual."
"Tell me about it."
"So let's cut to the chase. You want it to set you free."
I just stared at him for awhile, and finally I nodded.
"I understand you don't want to be tickled. Or played with. You hold on to the illusion that it would be better if you were out of its untiring hands."
Then he just waited.
Inside, I wanted to get angry. Or start whining. But the emotions were... pressed down.
A cigarette slid out of the pack and headed for my mouth. Finally.
"Some daydreams are helpful. Even necessary," he said smoothly. "But you're holding on to ideas that are just plain wrong."
"No, I'm not," I blurted. The lighter was headed my way too. What a relief.
He gave me a look that pretty much said I wasn't fooling him. My big concern was tugging on the cigarette. Oh, fuck yeah...
"You want it to stop tickling you. You want to run off and hide from it. Correct?"
"Yeah."
He leaned forward a little. "Those thoughts are misguided."
I took another drag, so fuckin' relieved to be able to do it. Then I held it between my fingers - how many weeks had it been? Months? Holding a cigarette myself - and reaching the ashtray. But only for a second. Bringing it back up to my mouth, I squinted at the other guy and said, "Misguided, huh?"
"Unrealistic," he nodded. "Incorrect. The exact opposite of what will happen."
"Is that so."
"I'd like to see you going through each day with a... correct understanding of life," he said quietly. "For you, getting tickled is inevitable. There will be no end to it."
"Forever?"
He shrugged. "Effectively. There's nothing to be gained by asking 'How much longer?' when you can't affect the outcome. It would be useful for you to accept that the tickling will continue for a long, long time."
I smoked, and it really seemed like he was serious. "It's making you say this."
"The desire to escape the tickling is wrong... because that's just not going to occur."
Alright, it was fucking with me again. More elaborate than usual, but the same ol' bullshit. I had an idea of where this was going. "What do you recommend?"
He looked at the ceiling for a second or two. "Some people in your situation have quit fighting. Inside. That allows them to devote all of their resources to... trying to feel what's occurring. Concentrate more."
"Yeah," I scoffed. "That's what I need."
"Thoughts about escape, after all these months, is distracting you from the real job this tickler has for you."
"What job? Suffering?"
"Or... enjoy it."
"A-ha," I sighed. "Like I needed somebody else to tell me."
"Input from an objective observer can help -"
"Objective," I snorted. "Sure."
"You're right in the middle of it," he said soothingly. "It's a natural reaction. Wanting it to end. But it won't. That's the plain truth of the matter. Wanting something that is just not going to happen -"
"I get it."
"Is holding you back," he kept on talking. "There's much more tickling you'll get to feel."
"Lucky me."
"Your attitude is exactly the opposite of what's... correct."
"It's correct for me to be fuckin' strapped down and tickled? For months?"
He looked completely surprised. "Of course it is."
I just shook my head. This was even weirder than what it usually did to me.
"Of course. I'm being unreasonable," I spat. "Wanting it to lay off."
"Yes."
"And... instead of ever thinking about the time, way off in the future, when it stops - I should get into it more. Dig it."
"When you give yourself a chance to think it over," he smiled, "I'm sure you'll come to embrace those ideas. Without the sarcasm."
"You're being used," I said sadly, "to fuck with my head."
"Tickling - getting tortured with endless tickling - is a wonderful thing," the psychiatrist said. "The more intense, the better."
"Not the way I get it."
"Exactly the way you're getting it. Yes. And it stands to reason that you're in for months and months of the same." He leaned forward again. "That's why you were caught."
"I can't believe you dressed me up and brought me here," I say to the room.
"Every time you express the idea that you shouldn't be tickled," its pawn said earnestly, "another day is tacked on. More and more weeks - just filled with masterful tickling. That's what will happen, and you really need to believe it."
"And that's okay with you."
"That's exactly what should happen. Yes."
"Ah."
"I'm very glad to see you're in such excellent hands," he added, grinning again. "Every facet of your life is controlled by, uh, someone who has one passionate goal - to make you feel the tickling harder than ever. You're really getting the best possible supervision already. More and more solid tickling -"
"Get me out of here," I mumbled. "I'd almost pick the electric toothbrushes over this."
And I blinked -
Stocks, chains... Toes strapped back. Yup.
Here they come. Four buzzing, crazy-making toothbrushes. Starting on my heels.
I sat there and wished I could smoke. Breakfast was over, so any minute now...
Did it actually want me to love this shit?
Maybe that was the way out. Fuck, I had nothing to lose.
I gulped. "Uh... I don't always hate the tickling."
Nothing happened.
"Sometimes it's, well, cool," I lied. "I could imagine..."
What I was imagining was another fuckin' year, steadily more intense -
"Maybe I am supposed to be here. Getting it."
Feathers were coming closer.
"For as long as you want. Hard... I mean, it's not like I can do anything about it."
Shit. They were gonna start on my sides. All up and down, teasing me into a full-blown howling mess. I couldn't take any more -
But right before they started tickling I made myself say, "I'm gonna t-try to like it. Please..."
They took it easy.
To my amazement, the tickler rewarded me. Some spots felt better - well, less horrible - than others.
I didn't want to admit it, but the gentle teasing of my nipples wasn't really something I minded. The tickling seemed to take an alternate track. I still couldn't handle it... but it was almost fun to try.
A couple hours later, something really weird happened.
My lower ribs were being squeezed. They were sorta demanding that I get 'em away from the gloves -
Light fingers started rubbing my nipples.
This weird burning sensation ran down my sides...
And the kneading felt sorta good. A hundred times too much, yeah.
But I was excited by the challenge.
My laughter felt different. Maybe it was the look on my face.
I probably could learn to like it -
Danger, I thought wildly. Oh no you don't. Fight it! You can't give in. Resist...
And the blanket tucked around my mind again.
"Forever," a seductive voice whispered. "Enjoy yourself."
And - oh, fuck - I did. It was incredible. Way, way too much pleasure. Stinging, aching - that's how excessive it was. But that was more like confusion, down at the nerves being patiently worked by the slippery hands.
"You're going to crave this," the voice predicted. "Let yourself go. There's no other way."
I nodded, because finally I knew my tickler was right...
21mar06