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Cab reaches for the next outcropping - and it shears off, falling past him. Flattening himself against the rock face, he gradually looks up. He never even touched it, and the edge just went.
The wall is almost smooth. There are no other handholds at all.
Carefully, he works his way down a step. There's a good ledge to stand on, and two cracks for his hands that almost line up. When he's stable, Cab kicks out a big sigh.
He spends ten minutes studying the cliff.
Nothing.
Okay. Time to give it up. He looks down, and lifts his right foot -
Under him, where he was about to step down, the edge just slides away.
He just stares at the place where it used to be. Smooth rock...
That doesn't make any sense. He just hung on that edge. It was solid. Hell, three guys could've stomped on that edge and it wouldn't have just fallen off like that.

Five minutes of scanning...
No way up. And now, there's no way down.
He really fucked up this time, climbing alone -
"Hey," a voice says quietly.

It startles him so much he loses his grip. Falling off. Game over, he thinks sadly -
Hands catch him. They wrap around his sides...
Not a soul around.
"I gotcha."
Two by two, the fingers start to squeeze.
Amazement, relief...
The slow kneading tickles.
He laughs, throwing his head back. The realization of what almost happened, like dodging a bullet, is nothing compared to the surprise of the hands gripping there, massaging.
"Alll-right," the voice says with a different tone of voice - like it approves.
Immediately, the hands stop tickling him - and push him against the cliff.
Cab's hands scrabble for the holds he just had. When he's locked on, he nods. The hands go away.
He's breathing hard. That was close.
When he dares to move his head, Cab looks around.
Confirming it - really comprehending it at last. Nobody else is there.

"Who did that?" he says hesitantly.
"I did."
Cab startles again, but this time he's holding on tight.
"Who is that?"
"I'm Forager. Who are you?"
"Cab," he says, looking around again. "You sound like you're right next to me."
"I am."
"Well... thanks," he says awkwardly.
"No problem. It was my fault. Messing with the rock you just used."
You bet it was, Cab thinks. "You, uh... excuse me, but why can't I see you? You seem to be hovering right over my head -"
"I'm invisible."
Suddenly, Cab's afraid to move. A ghost? He doesn't believe in ghosts... and he's never suspected himself of being insane before. Maybe he did fall, and he's dead. That's a bad thought.
What the hell should he say?
"Am I dead?"
It chuckles. "No, no." A hand touches his shoulder, slowly. "See?"
He stares, but there's no fuckin' hand... visible, even though it gives his collarbone a squeeze. "How are you doing that?"
"I don't know. But I can."
"That feels just like a real hand."
"Oh. Thank you."
"Are you going to... hurt me?"
"Absolutely not!" It chuckles. "I just saved you from falling off, I think."
"Right."
"Hey - I'm sorry I scared you. Am I correct in thinking you've never met... uh, anyone like me before? Invisible?"
"No."
"Good," it says, hooting darkly.
Cab doesn't like the sound of that laugh either. "Are you strong enough to pick me up?"
"Oh, yeah."
"I've got a situation here..."
It doesn't say anything.
"Uh - Forager?"
"Still here."
"That's a hell of a drop under me."
"Uh-huh."
"Would you mind... carrying me to a safer place? Preferably the ground?"
"No. And no."
He looks around. "What?"
"I don't mind carrying you off. If I didn't do that, you'd definitely fall."
"Y-yeah."
Forager snickers at him.
"But if you're sure you can hold on -"
"Absolutely. Don't worry about it."
"Can you get me to the ground okay?"
"Sure."
"Whew. Thanks."
"Don't thank me yet," it says.
"Okay -"
"Give me your hand."
"Uh..."
"C'mon."
He lifts his left hand carefully.
"I won't drop you."
"I believe you -"
"Just lift your hand if you want me to take you away from here."

Cab repeats that last sentence to himself. What a weird thing to say. And it didn't sound like a joke.
"Oh, I'll come willingly," he finally says, laughing uneasily.
"Great!"
Something is wrong with this conversation, he thinks. "So -"
"Hold your hand up, Cab."
He hesitates. "This is scary."
"Aaah, I think you're going to love it."
"Sure. Don't do anything fancy, okay?"
Forager snorts. "What?"
"Just lower me straight down."
"No."
Automatically, Cab grabs the edge of the rock again.
"No?"
"No way, Cab."
"C'mon. Please?"
"If you give me your hand, I'll take you. Up."
"Up? Don't fuck around -"
"I'm not. The shortest route to my cave is over the summit."
"Your cave?"
"Oh yeah."
"I don't want to go... up."
"I do. Are you going to give me your hand?" Forager says amiably.
"Not if y-"
"Well, okay. Nice knowing you."
"Just help me down! Dammit! Please!"
No answer.

Forager isn't answering his yells now.
Cab digs in carefully. He drinks some water and studies the cliff. Absolutely fucked...
Other than the place he's clinging to, which is okay, it's like the worst possible place to be without that outcropping. Two meters over his head there's a sweet path up - or down, angling away from where he's stranded. He just can't get to it.
He's never had two good grips just fall off like this. Within a few minutes of each other... Unless it wasn't a coincidence.
Those hands - squeezing him -
How strong is Forager, anyway? C'mon. Why the hell would it want him to be stuck here?
That tickling was intentional. Totally bizarre.
My cave is over the summit...

He sees motion - something is floating down toward him.
It turns out to be a leather bag.
"Cab!" Forager barks. "Lucky Strikes okay?"
He frowns at the bag. It's fairly big. Just hanging there - over him and at least a meter out from the cliff - as if it was on a hook. "Cigarettes?"
"Well, yeah. Luckies work for you?"
"I don't smoke."
"The hell you don't."
"Hey -"
"You used to."
"Now, look -"
"Am I right? Huh?"
He sighs. "Yeah."
Deep chuckles, right alongside him. "Okay then."
"You busted the rocks off, didn't you? Above and below me?"
The bag starts unzipping. "Yeah. You caught on."
"Why?"
Forager hoots once or twice. "Let's get you rigged up."
The invisible hands lock onto Cab's right forearm, and pull. His fingers lose their grip -
He yells, watching his arm rise over his head.
Fingers close around his left wrist, and lift it.
Slowly, he moves away from the cliff -
His feet lose contact, flailing desperately, as he rises up. Cab keeps shouting incoherently and twisting in the air.
"Finders keepers," Forager yells happily, giving him a shake.
Something black is floating down from the bag.
He yells until he recognizes it. It can't be...
A leather cuff.

Two hands pounce on his right arm and hold it out. The cuff zooms down. As he whipsaws his body, it buckles around his right wrist. Thick, riveted S&M stuff, completely out of place here.
"You like it?" Forager chuckles. "Wait'll you see my cave."
More hands catch his left arm, and raise it - as another cuff arrives there and wraps itself around.
Something changes behind him. His knapsack is being lifted. It rises up, over his arms...
And his shirt is tugged over his head.
"Hey!"
"Watch this." Hands seize his ankles... and start untying his boots.
"Don't do this to me," he groans.
"Hold still..."

One after the other, Cab's socks are tugged off.
The buckle at the waistband of his shorts suddenly pops open - and that's when he believes, he fuckin' knows, that the bondage cuffs aren't the only kinky thing Forager's got in that black bag.

He's never tried any of this stuff. Oh, there was that one time Melissa cuffed him to the bedposts, but even that hadn't seemed... unbreakable. Not like he's trussed up now. The handcuffs hurt - and that was the main thing that stuck out when he remembered the experience. It hadn't really excited him at all.
As the cuffs magically close around his ankles, he kicks as hard as he can - but the invisible hands all up and down his legs have him overpowered.

It wraps something like a black leather harness around his torso.
Leg straps snake under his thighs, clipping up to a wide belt around his middle...

Forager isn't out to hurt him, apparently, but it sure isn't taking "no" for an answer either.
After the hood, leather gloves are pulled over his own hands.
Then a collar is opening wide as it approaches...

Clamps are heading for his nipples. That makes him sling around as hard as he can, jingling the restraints.
"Calm down," it orders. "Or else I'll have to really tighten 'em. You get me?"
"Dammit," he whines, after thinking that threat over.

Cab's still trying to squirm out of the straps criss-crossing under his pecs when there's a big tug. He moves -
Yelling, he dangles helplessly... maybe a meter further out from the rock face.
Trying to look up and behind him - the damn eye-holes in the hood are another new experience - he sees a wound steel cable running up from his back. It disappears from view way overhead. Brackets clamped around it, out of his reach, keep him from bouncing against the rock.
Now he can't fuckin' rotate at all. The cable straightens him right back out.
There's a quiet chuckle to his left. More worried than ever, he looks in that direction - toward the bag - and sees a scary little leather harness approaching.
"You're not... Tell me - you wouldn't," he says, trying to threaten Forager.
Hands he can't see take hold of his cock - and lift his balls.

Thinner straps are wound over his fingers, so he can't open his fists.
"And finally," it snickers, "this is inserted... gently."
"Get that the fuck away fr- Oof!"
"Easy, Cab. It won't slip in there and get lost or anything."
"Get that outa me... You're so fuckin' sick."
It reminds him of some doctor's appointments, except there's no telling how long the pressure will be there. Very unsettling.
And yet... The leather around his meat was already doing something. The dull pain in his nipples is connected, in some weird way. He feels strangely... full.
Damn, he thought, there's all this kinky shit on me. A butt plug in my ass. And it's... not hurting me, exactly. This is almost intriguing -
Too weird. This is information he does not need. But the bastard's calling the shots. Hanging here, like this, all wrapped up...
He never would've thought there was anything the least bit interesting, about this shit, if Forager hadn't forced him to find out.

An hour passes. Cab feels the sweat run down to his neck. His hands are soaked too.
Struggling too much seems like a bad idea. No telling how well the cable is anchored...

The sun is starting to head down. Two hours, hanging here. At least that long.
Cab noticed a while ago that the gear was supporting him - hobbling him - without causing any constant pain. That scares him, somehow, and he doesn't exactly know why.
"Forager," he says hesitantly.
"Yeah?"
"What now?"
The voice laughs freely. "About time. I've been waiting for you to ask."
To his surprise, the hood starts to loosen.
"Whew," he says, as it came off - and then he sees something in front of him that makes him freeze up. The first thought couldn't be right, so he relaxes a little.
But it doesn't go away. A big white feather.
"No," he says firmly, getting scared again.
"I was thinking," it taunts, "that I'd feel a lot better if you really gave that cable a good workout. Now, don't you worry about a thing. I'm definitely ready to grab you if it breaks."
"Get that thing away -"
"So you just throw yourself around, and kick as much as you want." The feather is moving closer!
"Stop - help - no no nnnn-nah!"
He rocks back. The feather drags across his chest, dusting one nipple and then the other.
"P-please," Cab barks.
"Try to bust loose," Forager orders. "I won't let you fall."
The tip of the feather slid into his right armpit.
"Oh shit," he manages to say. And then he just starts chuckling.

After a few more minutes, his level of excitement has reached a point where it blots out everything else he tries to think about. Cab can't put a name to what he's feeling, but it's already one of the most intense things he can remember... and beyond all doubt Forager is just getting started.
Soft edges - so fuckin' soft - start trailing across the soles of his feet.
"Aw no whoooaaaaah hah hah haaaaeeeee," he roars, bucking wildly -
Suddenly his feet stop moving as much. Whooping like a fool, he looks behind him. A black leather glove is there, holding up the chain which suspends both his ankles... like a fisherman's hand clutching a stringer of fish. He can't hardly move his feet now, which only makes sense. Forager caught him. He's gonna howl for as long as it wants him to. It's caught some ridiculously ticklish feet, and the feathers aren't stopping. Hell, no. They make him screech. The tickling - and that magic glove, holding on to its prize.
Twisting helplessly, Cab lets his head hang and takes a breath.
His endless, hysterical laughter echoes off the rock.
Hearing it, he finally recognizes the reaction of his that's increasing more and more. It's worked its way down from his chest, and up from his tickled feet. Fuck.
He checks - and yeah, there it is. He's hard. His dick is straining in its bonds.
I don't like this, he tells himself. No. It's torturing me, this is sick. This is not good. I may be sportin' wood, but this is still not enjoyable. No.
The pleasure overrules him, though.

Oh, wow, he just gets nuked for hours. All over. His whole body is more alive than he can even believe.
Slow fingers have joined in. Rubbing his soles, or his heels. Tracing one rib after another. Sliding along the crack of his ass...
He can't even twitch now - hell, sometimes he can't even laugh either - but the tickling continues anyway, on and on.

"N-no," he pants.
Somehow he's got to get away from this fucker. He's really desperate now. The tickling is driving him into a wild new place, mentally, and Cab has to do something to get off the fuckin' cable and run from the gloves. Four of them now, at least -
"Yes," it says, taunting him.
Hands grip him under his knees.
All he can do is squeal, and gibber frantically, throwing his body this way and that.
The gloves don't let go. Shit, they don't even ease up.

Time just keeps passing, with feathers and hands marking it off all over his sides and legs, neck, chest...
It pisses him off - laughing like this. He can't stop. And it's like a fraction of the relief he needs. But he keeps on laughing his head off anyway. Forager is really getting to know some killer spots. He hangs there and can't do jack shit about it...
If only he could move his hands, or something -
Oh, shit, the bastard's rubbing his abs again. No, no...
The tickling makes it impossible for him to beg.

Sucking in air, he finally lifts his head. The sun is definitely going down. Finally.
Something jingles in front of him. A familiar sound...
His keys.
"Red truck?" it asks.
"No," he says, all sulky.
"You're not one of those helpful types," Forager says, "who carries the car registration or proof of insurance in your wallet. But I think you parked in the bigger lot, down there."
"I didn't -"
"Save it. Good thing you got this thing, with the buttons."
He stares for a second or two. "Shit."
"I get close enough to it, and press the right button... it'll respond, right?"
"What are you gonna do?"
"Oh, I'd hate to see anybody mess with your truck," it taunts. "There's a great cave - well away from mine, by the way - and I'm pretty sure nobody except me even knows about it. I did a great job disguising the entrance."
"Listen, dammit, you can't do this. I'll be missed."
His keys float down, and away.
"Hey. Stop!" But his voice is so weak now...

"Boo," it says, about twenty minutes later. A cigarette and lighter are coming to his face. "I knew that was yours, right away. Roach clip under the passenger-side seat -"
"They'll find it. Or me."
"Oh no, they won't."
"Please. C'mon -"
"Here you go," it says cheerily, shoving the cigarette between his lips. "Shit, we wouldn't even be talking right now if you had followed the rules."
"What?," he snaps, kicking out smoke.
"You went rockclimbing alone. That's dumb, Cab. No telling what might happen when you do that."

After he smokes, Forager sighs and starts tickling him again.
Just experiencing each bit of the torment has become his body's first priority. All Cab can manage to do is wiggle fitfully, and snicker.

Forager gives him breaks every half-hour or so, continuing to tickle him until well after the sun goes down.
 

Yawning, Cab looks out at a beautiful, lonely valley... that he's never seen before.
"What the hell," he says, amazed.
"Morning," Forager almost shouts, making him jump.
He bounces a little. Looking up, he sees the same cable and bracket setup from yesterday - but this is a different rock. It moved him.
"Aw, no," he snaps.
"Cigarette?" it taunts, getting him one.
"How did you... Why?"
There's another smug chuckle or two as Cab watches the smoke arrive. "I thought, y'know, someone might see you. Wouldn't want you to be embarrassed."
"I want to be seen. Embarrassed," he grumbles, taking a light.
"Also, it's closer to my cave."
"I don't want to go to your cave."
"Not yet. I know. Just give it time."
A travel mug floats down. Cab sniffs - "Is that... coffee?"
"Uh-huh."
He tries to slam himself back, all frustrated. "You made coffee for me?"
"You don't drink coffee?"
The whole deal is just so insane. Shouldn't be happening. Bondage shit, massive tickling - and now it went to the trouble of making coffee for him, still steaming hot, and it smells really good. Too weird.

It takes his smoke away, and tugs on the wrist-cuffs. "Okay."
"Don't... start," he whines. "C'mon."
"I know what you need," Forager says happily. A blue plastic bottle floats up -
After staring at it for a few seconds he sighs hard, and closes his eyes.

Suntan lotion. A perfect excuse. Not that Forager even needs a reason, of course, but rubber gloves return to the bottle again and again. Really piling it on.
The back of his neck doesn't need the protection at all, much less all the rubbing and squeezing. Neither do the underside of his knees, or his ass-cheeks.
Its fingers are lingering, so tenderly covering every inch - just utterly relentless - on the soles of his anchored feet...

After the second bottle of the lotion is rubbed in, he's so whacked out that he feels like one great big, sweaty nerve, hanging there, endlessly tickled. Moving intentionally is difficult... and talking is beyond him, as if the whole process was too complicated to manage right now.

"Apparently," Forager says, "the usual methods of persuasion won't work."
Cab wakes up, sort of. He's been stuck in a different dimension where touch is absolutely the most important of the senses. Different textures, pressure, roaming over him...
"You've figured out that I won't let you fall. Nobody believes me," it pouts, "when I say I'll let 'em fall to their death."
"F-fff... fffffoh," he pants. Too many syllables in its name for him to get out. Definitely. The rigging creaks a little when he moves, but it continues to keep him wide open, just like always.
"So you can hang here."
He repeats that to himself a time or two. And it irks him enough to... figure out how to speak again. "Guh... get tickled here, or g-get tickled there - for months - some chuh... choice."
"You'll be much more comfortable in my cave."
Cab groans, and it feels good. "I like the outdoors."
"You like ejaculating more. Or am I wrong about that?"
He thinks that over for awhile. It can't be saying... what he thinks it's saying.
"You... bastard."
"What?," and Forager manages to sound hurt. "I'm not going to just... you know, jerk you off, out here. A guy needs privacy."
"Please -"
"Besides, I want to get you out of that harness," and it has trouble containing the laughter. One happy son of a bitch, here. "Move into those armpits of yours and... just stay there. Anchor your feet right."
He scans the forest below him for any sign of human life. Some help. Just in case.
"Maybe these hands," Forager says, "will convince you."
Latching on, the gloves look not only determined, but damn happy.
Cab jerks hard, and keeps squirming. Damn frisky gloves. He isn't going anywhere, and Forager tickles like it definitely knows that...

Taking a long drag, Cab realizes something. Not only does he need the smokes, but already he's enjoying 'em. Fuck. It had been a while, too. He's hooked all over again.
Forager gives him water at the start and end of each break, but now a different shape is floating down to him. It's a pint of rum.
He chuckles a time or two, bitterly...

It starts out slow after each break.
Leaning in harder, and harder, until the best he can do is scream laughter - silently - as it overloads him with more damn... delight than he can ever hope to handle.

The afternoon light slowly pales.
Animated fingers, brushes and feathers continue moving as if they're never, ever going to stop.
 

Cab's standing up. Did he fall asleep on his feet?
No... wait. He sees straps - and the cuffs. A cigarette is trying to get between his lips. After snapping his head around, Cab realizes how woozy he is. So he smokes.
A quiet, tree-covered valley spreads out below him. Not the same place he was kept yesterday. He doesn't know where he is.
Fingers run down his dick. With a jump, he looks at the glove. It reminds him of how terminally horny he was. Groaning out smoke, he watches the glove squeeze him once - and go away.
"Morning," Forager says easily. "Anytime you want to, y'know, end this... just say the word."
"Fuck... you."
"That's what I thought."
Oh, no, there's more fingers slipping around his ribs. Appearing from behind, wiggling, full of life.
"Nooooooh aaah hah haaa-aaaaaeee..."

The need to cum is destroying his brain. If it wasn't for the tickling -
And that's just so ridiculous that he remembers how to laugh again, quaking with the effort.
"That's it," Forager says, egging him on.

Somehow the suntan lotion makes him even more ticklish than he remembered. The impact is so enormous, and so personal, that Cab pictures a dam starting to crumble. As intense as Forager's tickling has been, it's only freed the first trickle of feeling - sensation - that lies within. That's scary, but even more intriguing...

The hours are an endless chain of overwhelming contact. Rubbing, stroking, clenching, interrupted only by an endless line of water bottles, nuts, trail mix, and cigarette after cigarette. Then brushes or fingers land again.
No matter how much he whines, squirming as best he can, Forager keeps right on tickling.

If he could remember how to talk, Cab knows he'd cave in. The words float through his mind - not what he wants to say, but his body has his mind surrounded. Trapped. It feels like permanent damage will result if he doesn't fire off the biggest load of cum ever. And soon.
The light is fading. Feathers and gloves keep playing with his feet, his nipples, and his fuckin' sides. If he opens his mouth, right now, he's gonna beg to be taken away just so he can cum. Done deal.
All he has to do is nod, maybe.
His resolve is just fuckin'... dissolving. Some last scrap of pride makes him wonder if he can keep from begging for it - the hand job - at least until the sun sets.
"Ain't it pretty?" Forager says - tickling his thighs harder, really sticking it to his knees.
Just stop for ten seconds, he thinks to himself, and I'll give in. Really. I can't talk right now...

"Oh mutherfuck," he chortles.
"Have a smoke."
He opens his eyes. It's darker. Did he pass out?
His dick is on fire. This can't go on. He leans forward when the lighter comes up, needing to suck in hard. And again, because it's time to give up and go to the cave -
"You did it," Forager says - sounding sad.
"Did... w-what?"
"Passed the test."
He blinks, leaking smoke. "Test?"
"Yup. I know from past experience that if a dude doesn't volunteer to, uh, visit my cave by the third day, he's probably not gonna be happy there. Laughing, and ejaculating, and laughing some more. Well, eventually wishing he could remember how to laugh."
"No," he sighs. "Hell, no. Let me go, Forager. Please."
The tickling stops. "Damn. Okay."

It sets Cab on the top of the cliff, and lights another cigarette for him. The wind is getting chilly. He's so tired, and sore, that he leaves the smoke between his lips. Curling one hand around his dick - finally! - takes more effort than he expected. Just doing the deed is definitely gonna make his legs buckle. Real soon now, he'll sit down and the cumshot will be one he'll remember for the rest of his life. Fireworks in the sky, maybe -
His boots are brought over. Keys, wallet... climbing gear.
And a spandex body stocking. Black. It floats there, until he takes it. His shirt and shorts aren't coming, apparently.
"Fucker," he growls, pulling it on. The material sliding over his cock makes him thrust a few times. Forager just wants to see him shoot. Definitely. But that would be like losing the battle, somehow, so he fights down the urge to just grab on and finish, leotard or no leotard -
"Here's the last of the coffee." A mug is levitating toward him, steady as a bird. "No, wait..." A pint bottle glides up and pours a shot into the mug...
Cab takes it, resisting the urge to thank Forager.
"I was just getting warmed up," it says easily. "More fun than you can believe, Cab. Guess it'll happen to some other guy." Gloves come over, and he tenses up. "Easy, there. Give me your hand, and lift one of your feet. I'll get those boots on for ya."
He says nothing as the boot is eased on. His feet are absolutely killing him. All that tickling. But he takes another hard drag, catches the cigarette between his fingers and has a couple swallows of coffee. The booze that Forager just added to the mug is whiskey, and it warms him up. Really good whiskey.
Fuck, he's gotta shoot his wad. Then get more of this booze. More smokes. In that order -
The bastard really worked him over. It's got a place all ready. Stocked up. It owes him, dammit.
His other boot is on now, and he's just standing there. Not sure why, exactly. The first priority is to get away from this sick fucker who's been messing with him. Cock toys, nipple clamps - and hanging him up like that. Shit...
All that tickling. The cigarettes... Big fun, alright, if you were Forager. Not for the dumb fucker who ends up inside the cave. Locked in. That wasn't gonna be him.
Probably. Could be it was lying. Maybe right now it's gonna laugh and grab his arms, and drag him there anyway. No chance. Here we go.
Why is he still standing there? Hesitating -
Is it gonna really let him go now? Or drag him off...
"Hey," he says, uncertainly.
"What."
Fear takes him. "Nothing."
"Cab. C'mon. You're a free man now. Anything you wanna say, dude, I'm here for ya."
I'm not free yet, he thinks. Maybe it's toying with me. Jump me, and then it's off to the cave. Fuckin' tickle dungeon. Creepy. He's got a picture in his head - all kinds of leather bondage bullshit, racks and chains, a fireplace keeping it warm. It's probably got enough food and booze and cigarettes in there for months...
He remembers the bag of toys and cuffs that showed up the first day. Forager was all ready.
So weird...
"Cab?"
"What?"
"Anything you need right now? Cigarettes?"
"No," he says quickly, thinking he'll buy a pack at that gas station in Bortz. Ten, fifteen miles. Smokin' again, dammit. "Where's my truck?"
"I hid it. About three miles, that way." A glove points to a trail which wanders off behind him. "If you're ready, I'll lead you to it."
A three-mile walk in the dark does not sound good. His cock is gonna rub against the spandex - but if he takes the leotard off, he'll be even colder. So sore, everywhere... but what else can he do?
Will it carry him there? Or would it take him to its cave instead? He takes another gulp of coffee. Dammit, this whiskey is great. If he was shitfaced, and off his feet, the aches and pains wouldn't even matter.
"I, uh..."
"Yeah?"
Bad idea. Maybe the worst idea he's ever had. "This whiskey."
"Uh-huh. Good shit, huh?"
"What kind is it?"
"I've got more," Forager says immediately.
"No, now -"
He hears a sound like a quick hiss of breath. "Seriously, you want a bottle? What am I saying, of course you want more. That's why you asked. I've got a case of that shit, Cab, and I would be honored - thrilled - to share what I have with you. I mean, just so thrilled."
"Yeah. I get that."
Go, he tells himself, while you still can. It's gonna decide to jump ya. Maybe showing fear is just the wrong thing to do, though. He finishes the coffee, and holds the mug out. A glove immediately floats up and takes it away.
Forager's taken with the idea, alright. Endlessly tickling him, fondling...

He has a weird tug of mixed feelings. Hell, that was some good whiskey. But c'mon. "Uh, wouldn't want to put you out." That was just mean, adding that, but he wonders what it'll do. Probably haul him right off now -
"Are you kidding? Cab, seriously, I've got a whole fuckin' cave, another one. Full. Anything you want." Totally hopeful voice.
Forager's hanging on his next words. But there's no way I'm fuckin' stupid enough to do this, Cab thinks. It's into tickling, and it's really sadistic. Way, way more than I asked for. I can't take another five minutes of that shit...
It would disagree with that. I'm done, he tells himself. It's all over. No matter what kind of bullshit it lays down next, about rising to the challenge, I can just walk away.
"I can't, uh, take any more," he finally says.
It makes this disgusted noise. "Well. Okay."
Cab didn't expect that. Okay? It agreed. That's a turnaround. The fucker thinks he can't handle it. After all it put him through, Forager's ready to just throw in the towel now? Or maybe it's trying to trick him.
The way it said that, though - okay, you're right, it's time to quit. That was kind of a slam, there.
"Camels?" he mutters, just to see what happens.
"Camels - the cigarettes? Sure, I've got those," Forager says.
"You were pretty eager," he says.
There's a pause. "Well, if you're not up to it..."
That makes him mad. Be careful, Cab's brain is shouting - but the ache in his balls is still like nothing he ever imagined. Just to be able to lay down, on a bed, and pump his dick -
Cab groans softly at the thought. "It's not... Let's just go." He turns around. Every step is gonna hurt, apparently. A pair of gloves zips right in front of him, but it looks like they're actually gonna lead him down.
"I can catch some younger dude," Forager says. "Put him through the wringer."
He stops.

Younger...
"Get him high," it adds quietly. "That makes 'em even wilder."
"Pot?" he says, over his shoulder.
"Of course."
Shaking his head, he walks a few steps - and pauses again. "Younger than me."
"Huh? Oh. Yeah."
"You don't think I can... take it?"
"Cab. Forget it. Just go. You don't have to prove anything, here. Nobody else is gonna know."
"Oh, fuck you!" he yells. A grin spreads right across his face. So ridiculous...
"Well. I mean, yeah, I hate to see you go. Uh, I like you. Oh, yeah. The outdoor type."
I'm more drunk than I thought, Cab tells himself. Or it's the fatigue. Keep your mouth shut, right now -
Losing is not an option. He's definitely confused. But hey.
"I could use another drink," he announces. "Fuckin' joint too."
There's a few seconds of silence. "Are you sure?"
It still thinks I can't cut it, he tells himself. And some fuckin' kid can. He'll be more fun, huh? "Just... tonight."
"Ah," Forager says. "You can't wait to get off. Shoot that load -"
"Shut up," he moans. It feels like his dick could pop right off.
"If you're sure," and a glove taps him on the shoulder, "then you can get some relief - right this way."
"Swear to it. Give me your word."
"I'll let you take care of business. Okay?"
"Not that. I wanna leave... tomorrow."
"Of course you do. Now let's go."
"Forager."
"Won't it be great to, y'know, wrap your hand around that bad boy you got there, and work it?"
Oh, shit, the thought just makes him weak in the knees. "One night. Only one -"
"I got what you need. If you're up to it." A hand shoves him from behind.
It was gonna drag me off anyway, he tells himself. Maybe. Well, fuck you, he thinks for the thousandth time. Like I'm too old? There's another thought bothering him, about how he's gonna get Forager to actually let him go tomorrow. But he has to cum soon or else he's gonna cry, and maybe there's no real choice anyway. It sure as hell had fun making him crazy. No punk-ass kid could take more of this shit than he could. That was just a low blow, alright.
Cab takes a slow step toward the pointing glove, and then another.

The spandex sliding over his cock-tip really gets to him. Cab is barely aware of gloves picking him up - relieved, because he really can't walk any further - and carrying him most of the way. All of the trees and rocks look the same, in the dark, so he's totally lost. The material is just torturing his dick, but the gloves are carrying him by his arms so he can't reach down and get himself off yet...
He stops moving in front of a pile of rubble. Floating up, higher - and then over another pile of rocks. Inside.
A door is open. It's made of big planks. Cab sees firelight past it.
Oh, yeah. there's a bed. Fur-covered. There's other things in the cave but he's thinking only about peeling the damn leotard off...
The gloves set him down. As he tugs the body stocking down, panting, the door swings out. It's closing, and he's on the wrong side - but he can deal with that later. Finally, he gets his hand around his meat.
"Oh, yeah," he sighs, pumping. "Fuck yeah." Almost there -
Insivible hands get hold of his wrist. And then other. Pulling them up -
"No," he wails. "Hey!"
"What?"
"You... let go."
A metallic sound comes from over by the door. Forager just locked him in. It laughs wildly.
"This wasn't the deal," Cab whines.
"Oh, I think it was."
He freezes - because it's bringing leather cuffs over. "You said I could jack off -"
"Tonight," it snickers. "Yeah."
"Please," he says desperately, "you got no idea how bad I need it."
"Well, that's gonna be kinda hard to do with your hands strapped down."
A weird, high-pitched wail comes out of him, getting louder. His left wrist is caught. One ankle, then the other -
"Aw," Forager says sarcastically. "You gonna bawl like a little baby?"
"Yeah. I am," he fires back. "Please."
A strap, poised in the air, falls away from his right wrist. "Well... okay."
Cab whoops for joy. A bottle comes right over. He watches it tilt - squirting oil all over his belly. "Hold on."
"This is really gonna drive ya nuts," it says happily. More oil is squirted up one side of his torso, leaving a thick line over his pecs, and then down to the other hip.
A few gloves are cruising down now.
Out of reflex, he grabs his dick. Suddenly he's afraid to pump it. The fingers are poised right over him - above his fuckin' stomach, lined up to tickle his sides. Forager can't be serious.
"Not now," he finally yells. "Go away."
One finger moves in and plays with his left nipple.
"But you chose to come here," it says.
"Uh - to jack off, have a couple drinks. But that's all," Cab says. The glove is already making a crackling band of current buzz through his chest. One finger is doing that -
"I wanna leave tomorrow. That's what you said. And I said, of course you do. They all do." It chuckles easily. "I never agreed. You're not going anywhere now, ace."
"Leave me alone."
"A guy as healthy, and horny... and ticklish as you? Hah!"
More gloves - aw, hell, they're starting in.
Cab howls like he's deranged, just overloaded with glee, and slaps at one of them. It lifts up for a second or two and then, no, aw no, he watches the fingers descend again. None of the rest even paused. Major tickling, dammit.
All of the bucking and twisting doesn't drive them off. Screaming laughter at the gloves, Cab does his best to get in their way. Six hands just keep sticking it to him...
After a minute, they stop. He keeps cackling for awhile, watching the glove in his left armpit. Waiting for it.
"Don't you wanna jack off?" Forager asks.
Another whine slides out of his mouth.
"Hey, don't let me stop you."
And the gloves start tickling again...

A fuckin' fever of rubbing, sliding hands just won't back off.

He has no idea how much time goes by - only that he's panting, soaked with sweat again... and looking at the glove laying flat on his stomach.
Beyond that, his dick has been oozing a lot. Cab lifts his hand and starts to reach for his meat - but he's so tired. Worn out.
"You've been really trying to fuck with my gloves," Forager says.
"P-please," he whispers.
"More important, I'm worried about you hurting yourself. Breaking your nose or something."
No, no, he thinks, you can't - but of course his arm is picked up. He watches it move until he can't see it anymore. Hands pull it toward the corner of the mattress and slam it down. After the familiar texture wraps around and he hears a click or two, Cab can't move it.
"I guess that cumshot will have to wait," it says.
Tears well up in his eyes, but before he can really start to bawl the gloves dig in again.
 
 
 

When the door opens, Cab can see a sliver of sky. White fluffy clouds. He pulls at the stocks idly, wishing he was out there...
"Crazy weather," Forager says. Big water bottles drift toward the storage cave. The door swings back out, closes, and then he hears the lock click. "Blizzard."
"Save it," he sighs, looking at the cigarette sliding out of the pack. "I saw the sky."
"You're delusional." It laughs quietly as the lighter serves him up. "Ain't no place for a guy like you."
April, he guesses, or maybe May. He'd gone rockclimbing in July. The whole concept of time was getting fuzzy. Ten months, a hundred months, whatever. It didn't matter anyway.
"Guess I gotta keep you entertained," it says. "Make my own fun."
Feathers start lifting off the work-table.
"Uh-huh," Cab sighs.

12jun05