- - 23 - -
There's something weird going on.
Halfway through the night, on the rack... I figure it out.
Tension.
The assholes are a little too efficient. Or something.
And I'm not the only one who noticed.
"So, assholes," D says, all smug.
"So, rabbit," Vex mocks.
"You got any news for us?"
Tor hoots quietly. "News?"
"If you're expecting an update... what's going on in the world, I must not be workin' you hard enough."
He swallows. Looks at me. "It's just, uh, you don't seem as carefree as you used to."
"Doran," I warn him.
"Is that so?" Vex says. Softly. Danger -
And he just can't leave it alone. Dammit. I'm gonna get my sides nuked, too, because he's just gotta get in that extra dig. I sigh, and set down my coffee mug. Get a last drag in...
"How are the negotiations going? With Ciun-"
Bam. Hands leap on my arms. I get pulled up, and Shon does too.
"Thanks," I say disgustedly. "A lot."
They haul us out of the kitchen... and down the side of the building. Gonna lay us out in the infirmary.
Tor growls. And it's not the usual too-happy, gonna-mess-with-Hare sound...
This could get ugly.
When we're cuffed down...
"All set? Guys?"
I glare at D, but he avoids looking me in the eye.
Leather straps rise above us. Mine snaps once, the ends racing apart...
Tor pulls it between my teeth.
"There," Vex says, when Shon is gagged too. "No more smartass remarks for awhile." Water bottles drift up - with straws. Tor angles my head back and slips the tube in, feeding it to me slowly so I don't gag.
"We put up with a lot from our rabbits. Tor?"
"Fuck. Too much."
"Assholes. Sons of bitches. Fuckers. You have all these insults... none of which are, uh, factually accurate."
The water bottles retreat. I glance around, looking for tools. Oil, maybe. On its way over. Then I stop, and tug at the cuffs...
"Your bellies are full. You're clean... And you're staying right there. You can take some time to think about how sassy you are. Think about the kind of disrespect we have to put up with..."
"No talking," Tor growls.
"And no smoking." The urge flares up, then, like a spotlight being turned on. Thanks to Tor. Oh, wow. Do I want a Camel. A pack. So that's how it is, huh...
I think, real hard, now I wasn't the one who mouthed off, Tor. C'mon.
But get no response at all. And now I really need a cigarette -
"You will think about your rude behavior. We're giving you lots of time. Then, you'll come up with a full apology. Each of you. It will be detailed, and unmistakably sincere. If we like what we hear, we'll accept your apologies. We'll feed you. And, for reparations... we'll tickle you until even the speed won't keep you awake anymore."
That... sounds like a nightmare. Thirty-six hours, maybe. Shit.
Shon's gonna ask me what "reparations" are, later. But first we gotta live through the next couple days -
The door opens.
"One more thing," Vex says. "Since you're gonna pay for the question, I guess there's no harm in answering it. To make a point. Our... battle with your sperm receptacle is still basically at a stalemate, Buck. She has her methods of persuasion. And they've got our attention. Even this far away..."
Our moccasins start coming off. Shon looks disturbed -
"If you understand nothing else, get this through your heads. We are not letting you go any time soon. She hasn't... found the right lever yet. If she does, we're just gonna have to persuade you to stick around."
Tor chuckles.
"We're not done having fun with you two. Not by a long shot. This is the best setup... And you need to ask yourselves, Buck, Hare - who's gonna stop us?"
Ciuna, I think immediately -
"Hey, Vex. I got another one," Tor says. "Conejos. Are you gonna stop us?"
And the door slams shut.
There it is. We're goners.
Shit. I hadn't even thought about it - in months... Everything rides on Ciuna.
Everything.
Shon apologizes to me, and it sounds like he really means it.
We watch our language. The tickling they gave us, as payback, was unusually brutal. They enjoyed the hell out of it.
- - 24 - -
I laugh myself awake. Twist, and cough...
Not all that common of an occurrence - Tor gets a big kick out of the reaction when it brings the gloves closer and closer. Besides, rabbits gotta smoke first. So they know what's about to happen. Everybody knows that.
This time, it just dove right in. Ribs, and belly, and feet. A hand gives my cock a slow squeeze, and disappears...
Before I get to shoot my load, I get some water and a cigarette. And more careful tickling.
Tor chuckles along with me, making sure I can't concentrate enough to spurt. Eventually, I become aware of somebody else laughing -
D. On the other futon now. Cuffs are wrapping around his ankles...
They make us cum at about the same time. And drill us afterward. We flail around, too overwhelmed to laugh anymore.
"There," Vex says, as we gasp for air. "That'll hold 'em."
"Just 'til we get back," Tor says, giving my ribs another long squeeze.
"Uh-huh. Dudes. Listen up. You think you can get along without us for awhile?"
I look at Shon. His chest is heaving, like mine is. He's looking right at me, maybe wondering the same thing I am - did I hear Vex correctly?
He recovers first. "W-without -"
My wrist-cuffs start unlocking. "Yeah. You two rest up. We'll be back - and fuck, are we gonna be ready to party on your asses then. That's a promise."
"Okay," Shon says uncertainly.
Moccasins fly over to us, and get locked on our feet.
My right hand is free now. "Can you reach the other cuff?" Tor asks.
I try it. "Uh, yeah." The strap-end pulls loose when I tug on it. Almost off -
"Good." The fucker presses my hands down against the mattress - and fifty fingers pounce. They pack a lot of personalized mayhem into fifteen seconds...
And then they're gone.
"You can get Buck out of his cuffs," Vex says. "After..."
And I watch a couple dozen feathers land on him.
"No way."
"Just a suggestion," Vex laughs.
"Do it, hombré," Tor urges me. "Nobody else will know. Big chance."
"Tickle his ass, and then you can let him up. Or not. Heh."
Shon's squinting at me... and I think he's debating it.
"See ya soon." Tor punches me on the arm.
We lay there for a few seconds.
D sighs disgustedly. "Don't hurry back..."
Of course I don't tickle him. However much he likes it, all I see is massive relief when I get my ankles loose - and then go directly to his wrist-cuffs. Things are too fuckin' intimate already.
He sweeps all the feathers off his futon. Then we look around, and go back to sleep...
It's weird to cook our own food. I never liked doing dishes, but other than that we get to do whatever we want. And no tickling!
It's maybe my favorite day since we got here.
I keep fantasizing - even though I know better - that the ticklers are gone for good. Wouldn't that be incredible. Idly, I start thinking about a way to get off the mountain. With all the rope we've seen, there has to be a couple long coils stashed somewhere. Maybe if I can break into the storeroom, between the infirmary and the kitchen. Tor has to have tools somewhere close by. I guess I could connect up all the straps in the shop, but I'd want to bolt 'em together...
While I'm daydreaming of a way to make a cable and shoot it across the ravine to the nearest trees, Shon gets worried - about toaster bagels. He can't find any in the kitchen.
We build a small fire, 'cause the nights are cooler. Breezy. After hanging out for awhile, just like we do in the afternoons - when they let us, and usually at the firepit - we celebrate our lack of chaperones by turning in early.
It takes me about an hour to realize there won't be any coffee unless I get up and make it...
But Shon has no problem drinking it, of course. I carp at him until he promises to do the dishes. So I cook breakfast.
It gives me an real charge to sit there, and smoke, while Mr. Hollywood washes pans and bowls. Razzing him.
"What should we do today?," he says.
"We could burn down the new building."
"Ha... You're just kidding, right?"
We look everywhere - even around the latrine and the turbines - but we don't come up with anything helpful to get us down off this rock.
I find it depressing. Tor knew I'd be looking for rope. Tools. Hell, there's not even that much lying around in the way of tickle stuff. They must have places where they stash it. Off the mountaintop, maybe.
And the one locked door doesn't budge. I can't even find a decent-sized rock to beat it in...
There's something supremely weird about walking into the infirmary or the shop - even the kitchen - and searching 'em. No restraints on me. Moving freely around the room, having a smoke, and then just walking out.
The shop makes me nervous. All kinds of leather to... wear. I don't come up with a couple hundred feet of rope, though. And no straps longer than ten feet. There's the tool to set rivets, but it isn't heavy enough to do anything to the storeroom door. I don't trust the rivets to hold my weight in a life-or-death climb.
One place left to check. A long shot. The most intimidating room of all. Blue electric fire...
As I push the door open, I smell smoke.
"Hey," Shon says.
"Good," I mumble. "Didn't exactly want to be in here by myself. What are you doing?"
"Just laying here. Thinking." His voice is kinda vague. Dreamy. Reminiscing, likely as not.
"You're a sick pup."
"Hah."
I walk the walls, check the floor for compartments or trap doors. Nothing.
"They thought of everything," I complain. "As usual."
"We're trapped," he says melodramatically. "They've got us right where they want us. Waiting until they get back."
"So what else is n -"
"This is a good sign," D interrupts me.
"How so?"
"Field-Hare ain't thinkin' clearly," and he gets to his feet. "C'mon now. What have we learned over the past year, or however long it's been?" I walk out ahead of him, very glad to be out of that room. "What's the most important thing in the world, to Vex?"
"You."
"Uh-huh. And what would be the only thing that could... overrule its interest in me?"
I wince at his choice of words. "Well, you are past your prime -"
"Take a good look in the mirror sometime," he shoots back, in a very different voice. "O-kay, then, let's make it personal. Tor loves to fuck with you. It's got you here, and the only reason it would leave you alone..."
Then I get it. "Losing me."
Shon holds his hand up, and I take a high-five. "Ciuna."
"Wow... I think you got it right." Ticklers leaving suddenly, when they obviously would rather be here, having fun with us? "I hope so."
We eat a big dinner and get drunk. To celebrate.
Out at the firepit, D says, "It's hard to fall asleep... without being tickled to exhaustion."
"If that's an invitation, you can just forget it -"
He acts outraged, and tries to slug me on the arm. Too drunk.
Eventually, we stumble back to the dorm.
I have a dream about Torland, and it wakes me up.
As usual, I lay still and listen. Shon's still asleep, over on his futon -
Soft creaking. It reminds me of leather gloves. To look, I'd have to turn my head, maybe roll over -
Fingers slide around my ribs. Squeezing -
"No!," I manage to get out, and then I gotta roar. Many hands pin my limbs -
"Nnrrgg?" Shon goes, waking up. "Uh - naw aaaaaawwww shih-hih-hiiit..." And he starts to laugh like a stoner.
Nuestros finos conejos, Tor sighs.
"Now, where were we?" Vex says, taunting. And they laugh too.
- - 25 - -
It's exhausting, alright.
We wake up in the infirmary. Snug cuffs. Coffee, and cigarettes.
"Somebody was smokin' in the shock room," Vex says sternly. Shock room? That name is new to me.
Shon and I look at each other.
"The guilty party's gonna pay -"
"In the shock room," Tor laughs.
"But first, we gotta know which rabbit had the balls to go in there and light up a cigarette..."
Don't say anything, I think. Locking eyes with him. Don't -
"We both did," D says, real smug.
"Oh, fuck," I mumble. I guess the result will be the same, anyway. Dammit.
"A-ha," Tor says, picking up a bottle of oil...
It's a long, feverish day.
Before I rouse myself enough to struggle with it, Tor pulls me off the bed and sets me on the throne, that floating seat-thing. Wrists and ankles cuffed...
I smoke while Vex gets Shon ready. We float outside, and up high...
There are boxes near the riverbank. A raft -
While we watch, it burns. Floating out of view, falling apart. It's the fourth time they've made us watch this.
As the first box floats over the chasm of deadly rocks, it's already opening -
Shon lets loose with a whoop.
More toaster bagels...
Back in the shock room I went. After Shon, of course.
My only hope was that it would be a shorter visit than the first time. And it was. But fuck, was it intense. Every inch of me, as well as... inside.
Tor chuckles a lot now. Low, and quiet. Just a real happy fucker. Happy to tickle me. I think it's even more determined to... enjoy the moment.
Careful fingers. Neck to feet, and back up again, affectionately, endlessly.
There's a change in the usual routine...
Every day has a lot of feather-tickling in it. Two, or four. I'm either chain-smoking, or there's a gag in place... And the feathers move slowly. It's tolerable, I guess, compared to other times. I don't have to laugh. There aren't so many to track, so I know where the feathers are.
This never gets dull. At least not to me. And it takes a lot less stamina. I still wander off to Torland, in my head, but even there the tickling isn't so torturous.
Now and then, as if it just can't resist the opportunity, Tor throws in a hour of pure ball-busting devastation. Hooting almost as loud as me.
I realize something, after a couple days of "easy" feathers. It's frustrating, and relentless, and I don't enjoy being delirious. But when it's compared to el gusano, or a half-dozen other memories here at the palace, it's fuckin' enjoyable...
"You too, huh?" Shon grins. Hanging out at the firepit, early afternoon, getting stoned.
Same thing, for him. Vex spends a big chunk of each day massaging him. Four gloves - never more - cruising over him. Stroking him, petting luxuriously... But every few minutes they get naughty, sneaking a few strokes up and down one of his feet, or his balls. Squeezing his pecs in a way that makes his dick throb. And eventually they cluster around his feet and play rough.
"Any time now," I say to myself.
"Huh?"
I take a swig of beer, some Brazilian brand. It's not too bad. "They're saying, I'm taking it easy on you now, but I'm not undoing the cuffs. Any time I want, I can shift gears -"
"Yeah," he says, all excited. "You're enjoying this, only 'cause I'm letting you enjoy it."
"But real soon now, I'm going to have my fun -"
"That's it."
We sit and think for a minute.
"It's very... tempting," D finally says.
"It's supposed to be, dude. Seductive tickling." He sighs. "You gotta be strong," I say quietly. "Stay str-"
"Shit! You think I don't know that?"
"Okay." No need to say it again. My fate is in his hands. And his sweetie, the space cadet.
I imagine months and months of those slow, friendly feathers...
The full-scale attacks sure as hell aren't a thing of the past, though.
Tor won't leave my ribs alone. I laugh like I'm never gonna stop. The fingers, so many fuckin' fingers, and it knows exactly how to make me crazy. Maybe it is never gonna stop. I just wan-
"You likin' this yet, Liebre? Huh?"
All I can do is start squirming again. Twitch, and laugh. Some response.
"I'm gonna keep going... 'til you do."
That gets me shaking my head.
"No? Who's gonna stop me? You?"
I hoot like a mutherfucker.
"Naw. You're my conejo. I'm gonna pet ya. You think I ever wanna stop?"
- - 26 - -
The night is another one of those endless times when the feathers keep stroking, and I always have a cigarette between my teeth...
Tor is talking. Has been rambling on and on. I'm too feverish to listen.
When the morning finally comes - after it enjoys an insane workout on me, to wear me out - it's still whispering as I fall asleep...
For some reason, I dream about the bunker. D's safehouse, which didn't turn out to be so safe after all. Trapped in there for weeks, whooping our guts out. That's the history. But it's not what I'm dreaming...
The ticklers aren't there. Not trying to get in. It's safe. I like this fantasy. Imagine it - Vex and Tor stay down at the palace, tickling some other slobs until our return engagement next year - assuming we all go along with Ciuna's plan, and I don't much like my chances if that's the best-case scenario. If all the ticklers honor the deal, I gotta deliberately come back to this fuckin' place, every year. Or else Shon's really gonna get it - and yeah, he'd probably be thrilled, but I'm not about to be the reason he gets tickled. That's backwards...
Anyway, if I don't come back here again, all the other ticklers can get at me. I'm fair game.
But what if there was a place they didn't know about? Self-contained, hidden. Safe. That's the big word.
Now, I can find a few reasons why this would never work. I still remember being in the bunker, and realizing what a stupid move it was to even go there. If not for D... It's a trap. I still know that.
In my dreams, it's a hiding place. Yeah. "What if".
That sticks with me, even when I'm awake. As the hours go by, lazy feathers, slow brushes now and then. Scrubbing my feet, teasing, always ready to nuke me. Anytime Tor wants. Gentle fingers riding up my shaft, and down, until I'm chuckling quietly and I just can't stop...
I think it's still whispering a lot.
But I fantasize about the bunker. No Tor there, and no Vex. No risk of other ticklers finding me. Being on the run didn't work out so well - too many gloves jumping me. Cells all over the country, waiting, doors slamming shut. Laugh for us, Deck. Let's go.
But not there - Shon's fortress. From earlier conversations, I know he never wants to see the place again. It was worth a try, but as experiments go it was a spectacular failure. And I think he's embarrassed to sell it, in case it gets out that he was the owner. I don't blame him. It seems pretty fuckin' unlikely the ticklers cleaned it up before we left. Leather gloves, laying around, covered with dried cum...
So if I go there - back there - I'll be on my own.
He squints at me, from his rack, and kicks out smoke. "Bunker?"
"Yeah." I watch some gloves, rubbing oil into themselves, down by our feet. Teasing us. "Just for awhile. A safe place -"
"Shit. Don't know if I'd ever use the word 'safe'. In the same sentence -"
"I know. Humor me a minute. These fu- Our hosts would still be down here, we're off-limits to other ticklers - under the deal - so long as we come back here next year."
"Oh boy," he says sarcastically.
"Yeah. I just... It's really a stupid idea, isn't it?"
"Well, yeah. But hey, Deck, whatever gets you through. Think about it all you want. Hell, Ive been thinkin' lately about a beach-house, with a clear view all the way around. Safe... So go ahead. Take it. Double up the locks, so they can't get at ya."
"You mean it?"
"Just don't expect me to show up there again. Seriously," and he whimpers, as the fingers start rubbing our soles. "I duh- don't even waaah w-want to thih heh t-think about the buh buh huh hah haaah hah bah b-bunker uh ag-again nnnnah hah waaaahhh..."
Bunker bunker bunker.
It's getting better and better, as fantasies go.
Run for it, and lock 'em all out. No more ticklers. Can't find me.
Rationalizing every objection. There's no place where I'd be safer. I long to be there already...
- - 27 - -
Another night starts. Feathers, just taking it easy.
The only nagging concern I have, about the bunker, is food. I want to jet right there - directly - but I gotta eat, and smoke. If I stop and get supplies, I might get nabbed by another tickler. If I have it delivered, then somebody else knows about the place - and can have that information tickled out of them...
It's safer to assume there are no supplies left there. Kurt, probably. The other Stanford techs. Held captive for awhile, but it's just impossible that they're still being tickled there. We've been at the palace way too long.
I seriously enjoy the thought of installing more locks. Going over it, step by step. Securing every vulnerability. Sweet...
But I come back to the food problem. I have to stop and get supplies. When I get there, I do not want to venture out real soon. I don't want to have to stop, first, and get what I'll need -
I won't have to.
That thought makes me stop, mid-exhale. I won't? Why not?
I just... won't. There's still plenty of shit there. And weed.
But I want additional locks -
Don't need 'em.
Yes, I do... Oh, crap. I figure it out.
Tor. What the hell..
Ssssshhh.
"Tor -"
"Here," it sighs. A water bottle. My cigarette is tossed aside, and I drink up... "You're fuckin' it up, Liebre."
"What?"
Cloth ties between my teeth. "There. Now if I could just get you to stop thinking. Gag your brain. We'd be doing okay."
"Cuhmaaahhhh -"
"Just shut up." The feathers start tracing up my thighs, and back, brushing around my knees... "Food. Trippin' me up on the little shit. Cabron."
I arch a little, and hoot into the gag. Cabron, huh? Fucker?
The feathers move down to my calves.
"Okay. Look. You're blowing it. A real good thing. All my work. Getcha back to the bunker... Nice and safe there. Happy conejo. No more tickling. Right? Hide out there."
I don't get it... or Tor's not making any sense. "Hnnnnnh?"
The feathers go away - and land on my nipples. Very light teasing.
"Originator. Big brown rabbit. Thinkin' he needs a break. No more tickling for awhile. So, he needs a place to hide. A nice burrow. And I think, hey, what better hole to hide in could he want? The bunker. Empty, and waiting. You're right, about Kurt. Those other college kids. They had their fun, but now they've been back west for a long time. New cells for them, warehouses, cabins... Laughing the days away. And the bunker, it has nobody in it now. So quiet. Forgotten.
"So you were s'posed to think that way. You get to the bunker, and everything will be alright. As soon as you get back to civilization, and Buck hands you the key, you were gonna park your ass on a hog and fly back to Georgia. Safe rabbit. Rolling up, digging that key out. Letting yourself in, rolling the Harley through the door. Take that key, from the outside lock, and shut the door. Key goes in the deadbolt, and locks it tight! All set. Big sigh, out of you, 'cause you can finally relax.
"And Liebre, he's too tired to scope the place out. Been ridin' nonstop. It'll wait. You got a few days' worth of food in your saddlebags, and some water, a couple cartons of smokes. You're good. So sleepy... Back in the bunker again, only this time it's a good place. You take a leak, and wander back out into the main room. Have yourself a cigarette, Hare. You earned it... Only you're too wiped out to even finish it. Crash there, on the couch. Sleep tight."
This is, by far, the most I've ever heard Tor say at one time. So the story must be real important...
"But it's what you don't know that gets ya. Same as always... Vex, see, it had Buck sign some papers. He doesn't even remember. The title, to the bunker. He doesn't own it anymore - I do!
"It is my bunker now. All mine. It was wrong to think we have to stay at the palace all the time, D. When you're not visiting here again. See, I wanna have a little hideaway. So I decide to visit it. Check it out.
"I open the door. Go inside. And slowly, 'cause I really like this part, I close the door. And I lock it. Take the key out of the lock. And what do you think I find, then? Already inside? A smelly biker, with mucho tats, on my couch. My rabbit. Snoring. In my bunker. Trespassing...
"So it's a good thing I brought all my favorite shit with me. A pickup truck, full of toys. Food. Lots of the drugs we discovered, down at our palace. And the leather gear that I like the best... And Deck, hey, it just so happens I even got a case of smokes with me. Camels. Oh yeah. Already tucked away in the garage.
"I watch this deadbeat, as he's sleeping. And I hold the key up in the air, way up, where he can't reach it. And I make a promise to myself that he will never touch that key again. It's my key. My bunker. I own it, and as soon as I unload the truck I'll have all my favorite shit inside. Locked in. My property.
"If some trespassing hombré is dumb enough to be there... that's too bad."
I nod slowly.
"So I wanna get things set up, the way I like 'em. No interference from the chollo who's kickin' it on my couch. I get a little bottle out of the back of the truck. Something from the palace. Many little bottles... but this one, when a few drops hit your tongue, it makes you sleep and sleep. There. Lots of rest for Liebre. He'll have energy, tomorrow...
"And then I bring in all the things in the truck. I install many fine locks on the tunnel hatches. And on the front door too - but those are low, near the ground. You can't see those from the couch. They're black, just like the door. And then, when I am done, the bunker is much more secure than it was. Right?
"A thick glove, of elástica negro. Hanging over you. But you are fast asleep, D. I am making something, for me - because I find it very amusing - but you will understand it too. Right away. I pick up a bowl, and two metal cans. Pouring two clear fluids, and mixing them. They stink. But you do not move at all. You lay there and dream... And I stir the mixture, until it's just right. Oil up the glove, and turn it inside out. And the mixture goes into the glove. I curl the fingers slightly, and hold them. The thumb, and the forefinger, they are almost touching. And in the middle of el guante, I put the key. Fill it all the way up...
"While it sets, I prepare the bedroom. Buck's old room. I set up my swing, and a rack, and the stocks. And the bed I take out, because a mattress on the floor is good enough. It is great fun for me... I put rings all around the mattress. Little rings, but they are deep into the cement. Good, solid steel. All the anchoring points I could want. Some for the walls, too, and then I am satisfied.
"Your old room is where the weights go. And I have another bench there, and your old mattress... All of the leather I like best, it hangs proudly in the main room, from the ceiling. It looks like the shop, only bigger. And soon it is a forest of straps, hanging down, waiting for me to use. All of the extra cuffs, and the cock-toys you know so well. Your straitjackets, and body-suits, chaps and collars, vests...
"The kitchen will not be the same. I take plywood and block it off. A little hallway, so you can pass through... but there will be no work for you there. I will do the cooking, and the cleaning. All the knives and tools will be there. Off-limits. Behind the new black walls.
"When they are painted, and everything is ready, I come back into the room where you are. And I peel off the glove - Yes, Liebre, you are thinking of it, aren't you? Seeing it in your head. Muy bueno. The hand I made is clear, and it is hard. Acrylic. And there it is, buried in the middle... The key. Caught inside a hand. A clear hand. You used that key, but you will not use it again! And when I add a little eye-bolt, screwing it so carefully into the bottom, it is ready to hang. Perhaps a thin leather strap. There is an area I kept clear... Of all the leather that dangles down, I left a space open in the middle for it, and I hang my creation. Then I have to fuss with one of the ceiling lights, so the beam shines on it. Always on, and it makes the shiny metal key trapped inside very easy to see. Whenever you look up, there it is, fingers down. Reminding you. And what will it be saying? Well, I have to take a long black feather, and stick the end between its thumb and finger. The way it hangs, the feather will be lowest. Closer to you. Reaching... for Liebre."
"Nothing else remains to be done, really. Until you wake up. I pull off your leathers, and hide them. And boots - I do not like boots. They are not allowed. I have decided it. Your boots, and all of your shoes, and Deck's - even the new athletic ones we got you, which you stared at so hard as I took them off. I know you remember... No shoes, no boots. I will burn them later. Every one. I have some moccasins. Cuero negro. But no other... footwear within my walls, and no street clothes. I will keep the bunker warm enough.
"When all your clothes are off, I bring you skin cream. Lots of skin cream. I shave you again, and carry you to bed. To your new room. All the fun things waiting there... Cuffs, and straps, to hold you. You lie there and snore, on your back, and when you wake up, D, you will not be able to move. I stash some food in there, and water. Out of sight. And next to your mattress, close by you, do you know what waits there? Aw, sure you do. A carton of cigarettes - the Camels you like so much - and lighters, and a big ashtray. For you will smoke... and what comes next, will always come next.
"And we will have more fun than you can even think of, Liebre. I will make you exercise, and you will keep taking the wonderful extracts that keep you sensitive, and young... And since you are a maker of movies, we will watch them. In the new shop. Under the crystal glove. I will restrain you firmly, and get you high... and pick up a tape. I want stacks and stacks of movies - all starring my favorite conejo. We will watch you, in many adventures. I have so many ideas, Deck. Without leaving the bunker, our safe place, I will be the cameraman, and I will also be the one stalking you. Liebre, the hunted one. Caught, and kept still... And the tickling will be recorded, mucho tickling, so we can watch it - you and I - and we will laugh and laugh."
It stops talking. Waiting for me, maybe...
But - you told me, about it. So, uh, does that mean it w-
"Not now," it says out loud. And I have never heard it sound this... sad. "Not like that. You had to be logical. I cannot see how I can get you to ride there, and think it was your own idea. A good idea. It was fun to dream about..."
Gloves show up, and start getting firm. Black latex. The oil, being spread over them, turns the dull rubber into gleaming fingers of torment. They couldn't possibly look any happier, as they start landing on me...
"Having you here is even better. And I still want to make it happen. Just you, and me. More truckloads of supplies showing up, whenever I want. That's where we'll be, if I ever get the chance - but right now, Originator... let's make you enjoy yourself."
It starts el gusano - all over me - fierce and deep. Like there's no time to lose.
- - 28 - -
Shon staggers up. I know just how he feels...
The past few weeks have been exhausting. Lots of the seductive tickling, and a lot of pressure to stay - aw, just give it up, Liebre. Tell D you want to remain at the palace, getting tickled every day.
We're sleeping less. That is, the ticklers aren't letting us sleep as much. And every few hours, Tor whales on my ass. Full-bore tickling. Tome eso! Take that...
"Hare," he says. Arrogant as hell.
"What?"
"We're staying here."
No, we're not. That's my first thought -
"Good," I fire back. Grinning like a fool. Inside, my new goal in life is to get my mouth to stay shut... "I want to. You got no idea how much... how long I've been waiting. To hear you say that."
He nods. "They've already let Ciuna know."
"Fuck her."
"Yeah." And he... twitches. Around his eyes.
I finally dare to breathe. Too far. You fuckers have got to learn to be more subtle.
After a second, I get the response. Hey. He really means it, Liebre.
Sure...
"Starting now," D announces, "we are in for the real deal. Advanced tickling."
"Bring it on," I shout.
He nods once - and floats into the air.
"Now, was that so hard?" Vex says. Shon keeps going up.
"Yes!" he yells. "You son of a bitch... Deck, don't believe 'em, I didn't wanna say that -"
"Me neither. We're cool." I stand up and watch him go. Twenty, thirty feet off the ground.
"Say it again, like you mean it," Vex laughs. "Or I'll drop ya."
"Haaalllp!"
Moccasins fall near me. One, then the other. I look at them, and back at Shon. His loincloth whips away...
There's something else, up there - and Shon starts laughing his ass off. I shield my eyes, and stare hard. Blue sky... the sky is moving. Oh. Blue gloves.
Tor grabs my biceps, and it seems to be enjoying the feel of them. Massaging a little.
It's weird. The gloves nuking him are just about the same color as the sky. They've got his ankles and his knees. Stretching his arms out - and shit. They're drilling him -
Urine is pattering down. When I figure that out, I try to jump further back. "Dude..."
Tor whoops with glee, and turns me around. "March, fucker."
I look back up and see D just hanging there, howling at the sky.
As I get closer to the workshop, the door bangs open.
"The real deal," it chuckles. "Here we go."
An overcast day, and the night that follows is thorough as it gets. Stretched out on the racks, near the firepit.
Slow feathers and fingers. Meticulous foreplay. Fat joints...
There's something subdued about the bastards now.
Shon and I make eye contact - when we can manage it - and I feel something odd. Hope.
On to Part 7
Back to Part 1
20oct2002