He's doing his usual morning run. After skipping it yesterday, he felt sufficiently lazy - even if he is on vacation.
The motel is on the edge of town, and he didn't see much of anyone as he trotted along. All of the roads have the same peaceful look. Nothing ever happens out here.
He follows another road north without really thinking about it. Working up a good sweat. Another mile, and he'll turn around and head back...
Maybe where the pavement ends, up ahead. It's going to be a warm day. A few clouds, empty fields and trees, some kind of insects chirping - crickets? - and the power poles along the road, one after another as far as he can see.
When he reaches the gravel road, he gets the idea of running a little farther. Just a couple more minutes. How often does he see roads like this? All this space?
One building. Barn, he thinks automatically. But it's not tall enough.
Getting closer, he sees a power line running to it. Old and forgotten, weeds all around. It must've been a shop, or maybe a small plant. A good fifty yards off the road, so it wasn't a gas station.
He looks around. The road doesn't seem to go anywhere. Why build out here? It makes no sense. Hardly rare, though, in this part of the country. The land was probably contaminated, from the days when they'd just dump anything out back.
Without really knowing why, he stares at the building.
There's nothing much to look at. Abandoned shop, tall grass around it. Nothing special.
He slows down. Without intending to - hell, without knowing why, he comes to a stop, panting for air in the hot sun.
In his mind, he pictures himself turning around and running away. But he'd still be... curious. The mystery would bug him, though looking at the place he can't imagine what it would be.
There is one sure way to quit wondering. So he turns, slowly, and walks on up.
A side door and some windows are solidly boarded up. It's hard to believe there's anything left in there. Probably it's just an effort to keep the local kids out - if there even were any kids within ten miles.
Faded paint. Not at all promising. Mainly for the sake of being thorough, he wanders around the back.
Another warped door -
Slightly open.
He stops and looks at it. What's inside there? Absolutely nothing, he tells himself again. Rats, maybe. Or snakes...
But he has the strangest urge to see for himself. It's a quiet urge, though - as if it's being transmitted from a radio that's far away. Weak, but definitely there. He isn't excessively curious by nature. But this lonesome building has somehow got him wondering, set back from a road that probably never saw much action.
The door opens easily enough.
With his hands on the doorframe, he sticks his head further inside. It's surprisngly dark - and there's the smell of lumber. Pine. And something else, too - the odor reminds him of a barn.
Slowly, he takes one step in.
Gloved fingers grab his hand, and tug!
He stumbles through, one shoulder glancing off the door. Pulling hard doesn't free his hand.
Almost falling over, he's surprised at how soft the floor is. It must be ridiculously thick carpeting.
And then he feels a slight breeze as the door closes. But that's not right. Well, sure, the door closing is scary - but the sound of it is all wrong. Too sturdy to be the thin old door he just opened. As if a thicker, heavier door just swung out instead.
His hand is released -
And a light fixture clicks on, over his head.
As he squints, looking around wildly... his head clears.
The sense of adventure evaporates, and fear takes over. What, and why?
That's simple. More fun than he can possibly stand. Oh, it's rarin' to go.
He sees an empty ten-by-ten room, covered with dark gray padding. Walls, ceiling - and a thicker layer on the floor. The exterior of the building is very misleading.
He's so trapped.
It's feeling frisky. Invisible hands race around him -
And he flinches once, trying to see what's in motion, feeling the wind move his hair ever so slightly. That intimidates him even more. He claws at the thin gap in the foam, trying to open the door.
Behind him, another section of padding moves. Just a small crack, for a quick second -
Uh-oh. What in the world are they doing here? Zooming over, sassy as can be. Now he's in for it.
They grab his upper arms.
He's worried now. But it's true - they're strong, even though they're empty.
And they've got him. A pair of shiny gloves, pulling each arm behind his back. And that probably means...
Yeah. Two more are moving in for the kill!
Attacking his belly, and roaming up his left side.He jumps back, but they don't let him get too far. One loud yell, and he starts to shriek - and giggle. Laughing, and whooping.
Those gloves are driving him crazy. They're so active. Obviously, his distress is... enjoyable. Look at the fingers go. Naughty gloves.
They pull him backwards, slowly - as he does his best to flop or pull free. But he ends up on the floor.
Oh, no. His shirt is... ripping apart.
One shoe pops off his foot, and now the other. Then his socks. Bad news, for him.
Pressed down firmly enough, he can't wiggle enough to throw them off. Shouting laughter, contorting all around -
Look at that. It's really gonna get ugly now. Here comes... rope.
Snaking down. Unbelievable. Wrapping one wrist, then the other. That playful rope catches his ankles too.
His limbs are caught real good. Tied in front, and he can't hardly roll at all now -
Naughty fingers blitz his sides.
And more of them fly down to grab his ankles - and tickle those sweaty feet.
Whoa. Look at 'em go!
He's just crazed now...
A long, slow hour goes by.
From another compartment, a water bottle drifts down. There are dozens of bottles in there, all for him. Ten other shelves are loaded with food. Boxes and cans. One compartment is filled with personal care products and medications of all kinds...
But he'll find that out soon enough. A different panel opens an inch or two.
Eight soft feathers are floating right on down.
When he sees them, he starts shaking his head, throwing off drops of sweat. Hoarse protests, getting louder and louder - until he's yelling for help again. But that's a waste. He knows better than that.
How silly. The tickling isn't going to stop. He's gonna get it. No need to hunt down a captive when they walk right in. The tickling is so thorough that he's just not going to believe how sensitive he'll end up, all over his body.
Whoops - there go his shorts. Pulled out from his hips, more and more taut, until the seams give. And his underwear? Oh, this is beyond incredible.
Thick, shiny rings are pulled up from underneath the padding. The rope uncoils quickly and springs apart, slamming his limbs down as it darts through the anchors. Pulling, and knotting.
Within seconds, he's laid out flat on his back. No chance to roll around now. Better yet, his sides and armpits are so thoroughly helpless. His feet strain to rotate and move.
Not to mention his privates -
Oops. That's where the feathers go first.
Decadent tickling.He frowns, but he can't stop snickering. Still too afraid... No, overwhelmed by it all.
Maybe it's good that he doesn't know about the other compartments. Packed full of things that are just waiting their turn, all brought here for the same crazy, exciting reason. He sucks in air and laughs harder. Eyes slammed shut, arms pounding as much as the rope will allow.
The feathers are not going to hold anything back.Or the brushes. Unbelievable.
How much of this extreme stimulation can one man take?
It looks like he's going to find out.To make absolutely sure of that...
Phantom hands go to the motel, after the sun goes down, and get all his belongings.
Way behind the building, there's a slight gully near the small stand of maples. With two old tarps, some weeds and a few pounds of sand, his car is perfectly hidden. It can wait.
For as long as he'll be in there - with all those mischevious gloves and toys, keeping him just as amused as he can be - the rest of the world can just go on without him.
14nov03