"Gotcha!"
"Oof -"
Not again. Dammit. I fall flat on the grass. Left boot caught. Kick, and look -
Yep. Shiny hand, and it's got a death-grip on my ankle.
I roll around, start to stand up - and it pulls my leg out behind me. Back down again, on my belly.
"Oooh, that's gonna itch," the voice crows. Voice of my nightmares. It's been a while...
The other gloves have caught up. Dropping the t-shirt they tore off me, one already lobbing the rope -
"Not fast enough. What'd we tell ya about those fuckin' cigarettes?"
"Lemme go! HAAAAALP-"
"Shee-it, Coyote. Give us some credit..." Ugh. The name. Their pet name for me, pronounced the way it should be. Kai-oat. Can't believe I'd forgotten.
I'm scrabbling forward as they pounce on my caught leg... but they're moving so fast they're almost blurs, already slipping the rope around, pinning my other leg, loops tightening. Probably got in some practice -
Clawing the ground, trying to pull myself forward -
My boots slam together.
Well, I'm toast.
Dark shapes tackle my right arm. The last one to arrive is paying out rope, keeping it taut -
"No," I bark. "Get another... fucker -" Not my finest hour but I was sorta concentrating on keeping my left hand free...
"Huh? Looks like we already got you, ol' buddy."
Grips land on my left forearm, pulling it behind my back -
"OOOWWww! HaaaallllLLLLLLLPPP-"
"Save it. About fifteen minutes, and then you can howl yer head off." My limbs get pulled together -
Hogtied. Flopping like a stuck pig.
One picks up my ruined t-shirt and starts tearing it apart. I tug and flail around. It does no good at all.
"Here ya go. Say 'ahh'," it chuckles.
That means - yeah. A tube of cloth is floating down, being pulled taut at the ends, and the other gloves com to assist... grabbing my head. The gag is pulled hard against my lips, dragged back and forth like a saw -
"UnnnnnaaaoOWWuffff-"
Knot pulled hard behind my head, catching my hair. Toast...
They all let go and hang above me a foot or two. If they're stupid enough, impatient, they might tear into me now and by dawn t-
"Lookin good, like this. Let's see how ya fit in with our new digs."
They drop - slowly...
Lifting me up. Dammit, dammit -
One under each limb, and I'm a yard off the ground. Five... Still rising.
A hundred feet up, maybe. Headed west. Shivering -
"All that hair ain't enough to keep you warm? We got somethin' to set ya right. Uh-huh."
More easy chuckles....
Somewhere in orchard country. Old farmhouse... carrying me through the front door, real jaunty. Like I'm the thanksgiving turkey or something. Victorious return from the hunt.
The door slams behind me. A bunch of locks clicking, and none of 'em sound... well, cheap. Past the kitchen... and in -
Aaaah, fuck.
Gloves. Eight, nine -
The door slams. Fucked, well and truly fucked.
The room's maybe twelve by twelve. Solid planks of wood are up outside the window. An exercise mat on the floor, O-rings set in the floor all around it, rings in the walls - hey, the overhead light is working. Didn't see any sign of power, coming in -
"You like?"
They set me down, surprisingly gentle. Start untying the rope, tug at the gag -
"OW! Aaahw! Mutherfuck - my hair -"
"Sorry." Chuckles.
The gag gets tossed off to the side. Rope, unwinding... I grunt, start rubbing my shoulder...
And turn over.
About a dozen of 'em are hanging around me. Unreal gloss on jet black, not a mark or wrinkle on 'em, big fuckin' fingers.
My stomach drops like a rock.
"So. Biker. Are you still, uh..."
Dammit -
Ticklish?"
Zoom - six of 'em. No! My midsection, my sides -
"WhaAAAAHAHHAHhaaa naaahahhaaahaahaa..."
And so on.
They're off me they're off me oh oh yeah whew fuck they're gone... And then I remember one of their many... many games. They could be just waitin' for me to look for 'em, and wham, full speed ahead. Oh hell, I forgot how much I hate this shit -
Some are in midair, waiting.
Rope. Huge wads of rope around my wrists... and ankles. Boots thrown off to the side. By the time I start to pull in, they've pull the rope-ends through the eye bolts. Huge fuckin' bolts. Tightening -
And I spread right out. They're tying knots. A hand tosses another coil of rope past my feet and -
"Uh -"
"Yep. Same ol' Coyote. Always good for a laugh." Smug bastards. "We're makin' sure you won't give us any flak. Only takes a sec."
Two big loops of three-eighths nylon rope, anchoring each arm, and a mound over each ankle. They finish up, lift off -
And I can't fuckin' twitch. Especially my feet. Shit! I try turning, pulling up, pedaling - nada. It's hard to move my toes -
Two of 'em, carrying - they're... oh. Pulling on rubber gloves. Oh, just great. A creepier memory yet, black satin gloving up...
A magic hand brings 'em a tube. Big tube. Arctic Heat.
Another drifts up with a jar of... what, face cream?
Those gloves squeak as they open up the goods. Latex. They drop the lids, and one digs deep into the cream while the other is served up a huge pile of the liniment. And they rub themselves together with gusto, mixing the shit...
"Gotta get these feet ready for action."
I pull on the ropes and cut off a whimper that starts way down in my throat.
"So, uh, Coyote - know what we're gonna do first?"
I swallow hard.
"We're gonna tickle you 'til you shit your pants."
My mouth opens a little, and nothing comes out. What do you say in response to something like that? Especially when they've done it to you before?
"He remembers! Excellent! Okay. Then we'll get those jeans off ya, clean you up." Pause. "And then we'll get serious."
I remember to breathe. Little details I worked so hard to forget are coming back with a vengeance.
And - only about an hour ago, almost plugging up the shitter in the coffee shop with a big ol' log...
"Oh yeah buddy."
Their special lube is so cold... and I twitch bigtime just from feelin' gloves on my feet again. Way too real.
I've been stifling giggles. Like that's gonna do any good. Nobody's gonna hear me out here, howlin' at the top of my lungs. That would abbrieviate the whole party.
The heat's starting to kick in. Deep. I had a fleeting hope it might make the nerves shut off, too much pain to let the fuckin' tickles through. But it's not bad enough; too hot, sure, but the cream they used to cut the liniment is keeping the burn down to a dull throb. As if they wouldn't know.
See, that's something I'd forgotten - they never took any chances. Everything they did last time had the buttkicking maximum effect they were after. And here I am again...
In their clutches.
"How 'bout a little of this on your sides?"
Well, that got me laughing like a fool - and they're just laying the cream on real light. I know what it's like when they're not holding back. My feet feel bigger. Tingly, more alive.
I can't believe how totally fucked I am.
The rubber gloves are being peeled off, thrown aside. No, not - yet. Shit.
"All set, Coyote. Been tooo-ooo long."
"Look, anything - anything you want me to do, I -"
A few gloves sneak closer. "You're gettin' the picture. That's just how it is. We got everything we want, right here. Laid out, all warmed up -"
"Not fair, I - you already did me -"
"And it was a good time, huh? Not long enough. Now, though, out here - long-haul. Yeah. You're in better shape. All the muscle... all these tats. And where are those badass friends of yours now, huh? Think they'd be real impressed to know you were afraid of li'l old satin gloves?"
Closer now - oh shit, looks like my belly, gonna rock on my stomach and chest first -
"Nooooo," is all I can manage. Breathing fast, eyes stuck on those familiar fingers a couple inches from my belly button, my pecs. Steady and unhurried, one hundred percent in charge.
"Nah, nobody'd believe this anyway. That's alright, cuz you know - and we know. Our little secret, huh? How insanely fuckin' ticklish this tough guy is... and now we gotcha tied down tight." Chortle. "Again."
Ohno ohno oh-
It's on.
Satin fingertips on my gut. I can't believe I'm seeing 'em again, for real, not just a fuckin' nightmare. Real gloves -
As I twist around, more fingers reach down. Right nipple... left nipple. All these gloves, here.
"And remember, we know you inside and out. Half the fun of seein' you again is knowin' how much farther we're gonna push those ol' Coyote hot-buttons. You're in for the ride of your everlovin' life."
And as the fingers start to sweep, I tense up and strain at the rope, knowing most of all that they're not boasting. Every little thing they just said -
All true.
A couple more gloves land, and start to slide around -
I get in one more massive tug, with both arms - and I can't hold it in anymore. Exploding with laughter. Textbook definition of "involuntary".
"Go for it. Let 'er rip."
Thumbs, fingers grazing my whole front side...
"Savin' yer feet for later. 'kay?," the voice hollers.
I'm arching my back already. Not a good sign. The slippery pressure has spread to my ribs. I'm frantic, whooping away. "Yell if you wanna. Go ahead. Way out in the sticks, here."
I roar at 'em, tears streaming, and throw my head all around.
Can't laugh enough.
Something's changing.
There's fingers all over me, but I have an even worse feeling right now.
I sneak a look, and see a pair of the slick fuckers, right in front of my face... moving under.
"Nuh huh huh huh nuh nnnnoh hoh aaaaw aaaaah hah haaaaa-aaaah..."
No. Oh no, aw shit no. Those fingers, resting on my jaws - they're looking for it. The spot. Pressing, digging in -
Not there, I wanna scream. Time out, you're driving me crazy. Double-crazy. You can't remember that spot, it's not fair!
They almost got it now. A little further down, and they'll be leaning on that same damn spot again. Behind my ears -
Fuck!
"Huh huh nnnnoooooWHAH HAH hah haaah HAAAAAaaaaahh hah haaaah haaah eeeeee eeeee hee heeennnnnnaaAAAH HAAAAAH HOH NO-WWHOOOOOOooooh hooooooh hooh hah hhhaaaaaAAAAAAHHH ..."
Nobody else knows. Dammit! Why the back of my head's gotta be this - touchy...
And they work it good, the secret button they found on me, hit it just right. Aw hell.
Creeping...
My knees.
"No," I whimper, and shake the tears away.
Bad spot number two, oh fuck, fuck, they're under my knees...
Just about hoarse. Probably hasn't been a whole hour yet. I don't know.
Just soaked with sweat. No shit yet, though. I'd smell that...
So -
There. My feet. Six gloves -
"You can't fuckin' do this to me," I wail, just totally losing it.
Cool and soft, pressing down. Not my feet. I can't take this -
Are they - no, they're not letting go. But they're not moving either. Not yet.
Holding snug. Squeezing, just a little... then starting to move.
And that's enough. That kicks me over. I fuckin' throw my head back and howl.
Scritching sliding gripping skating fingers thumbs palms all fuse into a fuckin' curtain of pleasure. Sucking me in, clinging all over, soaking me in the rush and drying me off, by hand, to drench me again...
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