("Delivered" was the title for this one when an incomplete version was uploaded for a few fans in Feb. 2020 - but it's not connected to the 2019 episode by that name.)
My vacation was... delayed. Dammit.
Actually I was trying to cut out a half-hour early. Shame on me. Rally beckoned me into his office. That cat was stoned.
When I got in there, it wasn't so amusing anymore. He'd picked up a delivery invoice from his desk.
"Booo-oooo," I sighed. "Vacation."
"This place is four streets away," he said, almost slurring his words. I took the order-slip when he held it out to me. "One small box."
I looked - sixteen pounds. "Oh. O-kay." The street they were on was full of warehouses, big and small. A few weren't rented yet. I hadn't expected that many big-ass buildings to ever get tenants. Traffic from that street got nuts around lunchtime, but most of the businesses must've let their people clock out before we did on Fridays. "So I can take my car?"
Rally blinked a few times. "Yeah. Sure. That would be best. Wear your logo-cap."
I was glad I didn't have to burn a few minutes taking a work van and bringing it back. Those buildings on Ridgeline Circle hardly ever had lobbies. Zip in - I checked the paper in my hand again for my destination - go to Loading Dock 19, hand the box over... and I was free. No plane to catch, this vacation.
But something he'd said bugged me. That would be best? My own car? That wasn't like Rally. Must be some killer bud, making him so fucked up.
"Alright," I said.
"Hold," he sighed. One of his favorite words. I watched him stare at the top of his desk, thinking.
"Um -"
He waved a hand at me. "You goin' out of town?"
"For this week? Coming up - no, sir. Ain't flying, or anything. Probably shoot on over to Dallas... but I got nowhere to be." I sighed happily.
"I'm glad you're here. Workin' here. I am."
I fought not to laugh. "You're my kind of boss."
He sighed, shaking his head. Rally almost looked guilty about something. "We got it covered. Everything turns out okay." He squinted at me. "Like Dale - remember?"
Looking down, I nodded.
What a weird thing to say. Sure, Rally's sons liked their weed, and then some. Ran with a tough crowd, maybe. Bikers who played hard? The oldest one had disappeared for a while. Jason and I tried to stay upbeat - hey, Rally, I was pretty wild too, but here I am. My supervisor had been real relieved when Dale surfaced. Vic was younger, but he didn't go AWOL for nearly as long...
"It all works out eventually," he said, waving me off. "Vacation time."
"Yessir!" I turned -
"Still layin' off them cigarettes?"
"Yup," and I had to chuckle. "Tobacco, anyway."
"Great work. Now shoo."
"Later on."
I rolled around the back of the warehouse, still twenty minutes early for the end of my shift. Decent. Naturally, the closest dock had a big gray "1" painted next to it...
Last was 19. The number was on a sign - posterboard? - and the digits looked crude. It was 19, though. I got out, snagged the box I'd found on one of the shipping tables... and shut off my car's engine. Friday afternoon or not, I didn't need some tightass complaining about what they thought was rude. Walking away from my car, I remembered to check for my ballcap with the company logo on it - right where it belonged, on my head.
The door was not locked - I mean the one there for people to go in and out. "Hey," I said, staying outside, "delivery for ya."
Nobody answered me. I smelled smoke, though. The guy must not be far?
A dot of laser light appeared on the far wall. This was a smaller garage. I looked to my left, wondering why I wasn't hearing anybody. Took a few steps -
The door behind me slammed shut.
I sighed.
In front of me, the beam widened -
A cartoon of a guy. Spread-out. Naked? Laughing real hard, with a cigarette apparently riding his lower lip.
The tattoo drawn on the cartoon-guy's right shin looked a lot like mine - and... so did the broken heart on his chest. Same as me.
I'd been stalked. Hunted. Oh, wow. Wild ideas made me freeze in my tracks.
A fuzzier red arrow pointed at the cartoon, and roughly circled around it. Another flashlight, floating in the air, with plastic taped over the end?
I heard a hiss in front of me. Belly-level, maybe.
Coughed, and turned fast. Go, go -
But I was getting sleepy real fast. I tripped myself.
A bunch of hands kept me from falling. Slippery, dark...
Gloves.
No arms behind 'em.
This is getting weirder, I thought.
Waking up. Something sorta like that.
I was laid out on a... thick pad. Low light, around me -
Serious leather cuffs pinned my wrists. Ankles, too.
My clothes were gone.
Things were laid out around me. A half-meter from my head, I saw two packs of Hammers. No, thanks, I thought -
But looking around would have to wait.
A pair of black gloves came over my pecs. Their fingers were curled.
At least a dozen more floated into view, on their way to other targets.
It was time to pull hard at the leather straps stretching me out.
I couldn't move.
They looked like there were hands in 'em. No knuckle-bumps. A little shiny. Thicker than silk, thinner than leather.
Two were stationed over each of my feet.
"No way," I said to 'em.
Knees, thighs, junk, belly... sides, armpits, neck.
I looked around, pulling and kicking. Trying to fuckin' move. The straps were taut, not slack. There was no way the word that I was thinkin' was -
"You're... gonna do this," I said, closing my eyes.
Magic fingers confirmed that - on my soles.
There's no way I can describe even one minute of that mindblowing shit enough.
Tickling. Hardcore - gloves adjusted where they were, how fast or how solidly they rubbed, to make me feel more and more. I had to break those damn straps, and I couldn't break 'em...
Squeezing my ribs, burrowing under my knees, pumping me off fuckin' slowly, exploring my neck.
I tried to slam against the pad, which didn't change a thing, and howled like a loon. The ceiling was lower than the roof-line, so this fuckin' tickle-chamber was another room built inside the damn garage.
Stuck good, I thought wildly. One tickler, using all the damn gloves. They just worked together, too well. When I was zoned out, I'd moan at this one or that one, as if there was a competition going on - but this wasn't... flawless teamwork. Nuh-uh.
Fingers covered my poor 'pits, skated all over my gut, scritched up and down the top of each thigh - on the inside. My feet were on fire, but it was way too much excellent fuckin' fire.
On and on it went...
I smelled beer.
Blinking water out of my eyes, I saw a bottle in front of me. A glove was curled around it. Waiting.
My throat hurt. I'd laughed myself hoarse. Never roared so much or so fuckin' loud in my life, I thought, sucking down the brew. When I was done, I discovered they'd stuck a wedge-shaped pillow under my head. Well, fuck, I thought - totally dazed, already - the little incline would make it easier to watch my feet get nuked. And my package.
Another glove came, and stuck a cigarette between my lips.
"Of course," I croaked. "I quit. But you got me laid out."
A lighter was brought up, and clicked to life.
I smoked. No choice...
They made me thirsty, and "insisted" I drink a beer. And now - I was gonna smoke. All they had to do was start back in. Solid tickling.
It wasn't even five o'clock. The night was gonna be unimaginably long.
Fuckin' gloves were already upping their game. My knees were tickled more and more effectively, dammit. Several other hot buttons - same thing. They'd just started this marathon of fun and already the impact was much worse.
Well, I had no plans for tonight anyway. One new level of nitro-tickling after another.
After I took another drag and eased the smoke out, I tried to believe what was coming. Not one night of gloves and brushes, and it might just be that nine mindblowing days wouldn't be all. They got me good. The party would end...
When?
"Oh, fuck," I groaned. Vacation.
Right here...
Rally knew where I went. He had to dig into the database, though, to get the specifics. That was usually a thing I did for him, because he sucked at computer stuff.
Well, somebody will see my car out there. Please, oh please. Dammit. Gettin' tickled out of my mind, here.
But if they hid my car, the gloves could boogie on and on. Nine-and-a-half days of what I'd just gone through - increasing the "whammy" inside! - was beyond anything I could comprehend. They wouldn't...
That was when I saw a dozen cardboard boxes along the wall. Oh, no - food. Water. Three cartons of Hammers laid in front of the supplies. Uh-huh, more smokes than I'd need for ten days. Oh, wow.
Closer to me than the food, I saw a tattoo kit in a clear plastic pouch. Gun, needles, ink bottles. Not possible - says the guy, I thought, who's already spread-eagled so he can get tickled into a puddle of mush until next weekend, and then some!
If anyone saw my fuckin' car as they booked for the weekend, it might well have been... a guy who was in here before me. No way he'd come anywhere near this door. Gassed, hauled inside - and boom, two expertly tickled howlers would fit in here. Two instead of one, hell yeah. No, even if there were only wild stories about this, he'd get the fuck out of here. Tell his boss? Hey, uh, there's a car down at the end of the building, where I was power-tickled for the weekend that one time.
No chance.
Another slob, who probably knew what I was going through now, wasn't the source of the smoke. It was Friday... A week-and-a-half, coming right up, that was gonna seem like a hundred years. A cigarette was lit by the door, probably, so I'd smell it when I wandered up there... and of course I'd go in to find a dude who could sign for the damn box.
"I'm on vacation," I whispered.
Gloves got my next smoke out of the pack.
After I took a light for that new Hammer, I studied a black softsided bag across from my right knee. It was unzipped. Big white one-liter bottles... of oil. Smaller leather straps -
That closed tube had to be a cock pump.
Enough scanning the surroundings. I was done for now. Smoke up. Pull at the damn restraints. Nobody had heard me laugh like an airhorn, apparently. They all went home before I started makin' noise.
Friday night. Trapped, utterly fucked, until a week from Monday. Rally had to rescue me - unless he thought his kids would catch a break. Better me than Dale or Vic -
No good. That fucker. Rally knew.
His sons had disappeared, like I just did. My boss hadn't told me whatever was bothering him. Some of the things he'd said were making more sense now. Bingo. He knew what was waiting here for me, or at least he was suspicious. Was some other doper getting a break from this outrageous shit?
Vic hadn't disappeared for nine lousy days. Oh, fuck... Was Jason gonna get it next? Every guy somehow connected to my boss?
I looked around the hideout. Dammit, food had been stockpiled, and plenty of smokes. Cock toys. Shoe-polishing buffers. All kinds of lube.
More gloves, too. I'd be completely blown away when more and more of 'em came on down. Devoted fingers. Feathers, too. Prepare for the worst, dammit. Brushes big and small. Toys I've never seen before, oiled up, and riding me until the batteries die. What the hell was I gonna do about it? Shake my head? And I didn't even want to see a dildo-vibrator coming for my ass, or electric rollers covered with silk...
My hands were stuck but good.
Smokin' again. Have another one, gym rat, or we'll fuckin' nuke your feet for an hour.
"Got any weed?" I growled -
And a glove zoomed in front of me. Gave me a thumbs-up.
Forced adult fun, dammit. When... the handling and cock play paused.
I've been completely blown away, before, and I just don't have the words to get across how lost I was there. Incomprehensible. Another five minutes of this tickling? Five hours?
Nine days? No, dude, face the music, Dale was gone for longer than that. More food and water would be all it needed. It looked like Rally would still have a job for me, whenever I was cut loose...
There were thirty-two packs of cigarettes nearby. Well, that's how many I could see. No telling how many gloves altogether. Surprise, prisoner - let's try a hundred fingers on ya now! Three hundred.
Are you even more ticklish when you're stoned?
After the fifth time you cum?
My vacation was gonna last a couple centuries.
More pleasure than I could even imagine was why I was there.
18Apr2020