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- - 16 - -

They did the voice-restoring thing every few days. The vial with the tan powder. It hurt every time.
Then they'd make him laugh until he was silent again.
 

"Ow... dammit," he croaked, wheezing for air.
"What's wrong?" Lei asked.
What's wrong, he thought. Where do I start? "You know... what you're... doing to me?"
"Deep breaths. Atta boy," Lei soothed.
"I can't take this," he whined.
"Well, you just have to."
"But it's so insane! I have to... you gotta believe me! You don't know how totally frustrating this is! It's killing me -"
"Uh-huh," Max said.
The feathers continued buffing his thighs.
"Too. Intense," he roared. "Whah hah haaah haaah haaaah... These fuh fuckin' cuffs! I cah haaa c-can't move! Juh huh huh cah caaaah can't get out from under the fff-ffffff-f-fuckin' tih hih heee eeeh heee eh heh t-tickling... I can't m-move."
There was a pause in the action.
"Uh. Roy darlin'," Max said, sounding embarrassed. "That's the whole point."
He looked at the ceiling and thought about it, hooting softly.
"Oh."
"He is such a cutie!," Lei squealed -
The feathers kicked it into high gear. More came and joined in. His feet.
"No I'm naah aaaannnnnahh hah aaaaahhhaaawwwllaaah huh heeee heeee heeeell leee heeeeeeeeeeaaawwwl law haaw aaaw hah haw haw haaaaww..."
 

His cigarette was taken away. Roy just stared at the ceiling, bracing himself.
"No," Lei said. "Not yet."
Whew. The most welcome sound he knew - the cuffs, being unbuckled. Oh, yeah.
"What now?" he said wearily.
"More phone fun," Max taunted. "Fun for us. Not so much for you..."
His cell phone was in the air, over him. His head swiveled.
"Get up. Stretch out the kinks," Lei said. "Plenty more where that came from."
Roy pushed himself off the couch, and caught the phone.
"If we let you make one call -"
"911," he said instantly.
"Okay."
That made him pause. "Really?"
"Sure."
"Why?"
"Let's just say... we've got a hunch."
"You're risking, uh, the whole deal here? On a hunch?"
"We're feeling generous," Lei said in that annoyingly breezy way of hers.
"The hell you are," Roy said smugly. "Gimme a smoke."
"Oh ho," Max said. "Ornery. I like that." But a pack floated over to him.
"Gotta tickle all that attitude out of him," Lei agreed.
"Blah, blah, blah." He punched three buttons.
They let him. Roy knew it was a trick, somehow, but he pressed the 'ON' button...

"Why?" he said quietly. Confused as hell.
"Aaah, what's life without a little risk?," Max replied.
"Sure," he said, lighting up. It was ringing. He could hardly believe it. "You two are big risk-takers. No fuckin' stone unturned."
"All for you, sweetie. Ultimate tickling," Lei said.
"Yeah. I figured that out -"
There was a click. The background hiss sounded the same as always, up here. They really needed to upgrade the cellular tower. Then again, he wouldn't put it past Max and Lei to just tear it down.
Another click. He cleared his throat. "Hello? Hey -"
"You have reached the Brownridge County Sheriff's Department 9-1-1," a fuzzy voice said. Female. It was a recording.
"Oh, this just figures," Roy said to himself.
"All operators are currently on the line with other callers..."
"Something wrong?" Lei asked.
"If you had a throat, and I could get my hands around it, I'd choke the liv-"
"Ooooooo!" and they both laughed. "Big talker," Lei said.
"Yeah, they get a few tats... and they think they're such a badass," Max said.
"Both of you. I swear."
"Attitude adjustment, coming up," Lei promised.
"Bigtime -"
"Hello?" Roy yelled into the phone. "Help me. They're gonna ti-"
"Sir?"
Roy looked around. Woman's voice. Not Lei, not - It was coming out of the phone.
"Hello?," he said again, not quite believing it was true.
"Brownridge 9-1-1" the woman said.
"Oh. Oh, yeah, hooray. Thank you... Look. Ironhandle Lake. West side. I'm being held prisoner... by, uh, intruders. I think they're armed." One of the ticklers gave a little gasp. Mocking him.
"Where are you? Which house?"
Finally, he thought. Gonna get out of here. Yeah. "The big brown one. Evans Road -"
"What's your name, sir?"
"Roy Toolman."
There was a pause. "Roy Toolman."
"Yes. Please -"
"The movie star. That Roy Toolman?"
"Yeah. Now just s-"
"Alright, who is this really?"
His relief all went away. Oh fuck, no... "Uh -"
"Is this Jimmy?"
"No, dammit. I'm really him. I'm being held captive here -"
"It's against the law to play around with 9-1-1. A misdemeanor. Sir."
"Good!," he wailed. "Come and get me, then!"
"Stay off this line. It's for emergencies only -"
"Arrest me! I want you to!" Roy shouted wildly. "Come on out! Uh... Call Deets. Call him. You know who Deets is? He'll... Uh, his house is right next to mine. Please, I'm begging you, call him - "
"Goodbye."
"Wait! Wait wait wait... "
Click.

Dinner was a quiet meal. There was a lot of giggling from the kitchen...
Roy ate mechanically, and drank too much. Smoked like a fiend. It didn't matter. He'd discovered a new level of fucked-ness.
After he ate he channel-surfed for a few minutes, but he was too jumpy. All that talk about adjusting his attitude...
"So get on with it. I know you're gonna punish me," he complained.
"Oh, yeah," Max said firmly.
"Not quite... yet," Lei added.
A noise started up. Far away. He listened for awhile.
"Is that... the garage door?"
"Uh-huh. Deets' part of the garage," Max said.
"Why... Oh, fuck yeah!," he whooped. "That dispatcher. She - so she did call him."
"So it would seem," Max said. A towel floated out from the hallway. "Cover yourself up a little."
"Stop kidding around," he grumbled.
"No joke," Lei said. "If you don't get rid of him, how are we going to have more fun?"

"Okay," Max said. A cigarette was shoved between his teeth. Already lit, even. "Go."
Roy shuffled to the front door. He couldn't walk normally, because his ankles were cuffed. Long straps were attached, pulled taut behind him.
He didn't care. Deets would listen to him. He was a sharp old coot. This would all be over soon...
The ticklers had just unlocked the chain that had been blocking the front door all these weeks. Deets was puttering around in the front yard - even now, so considerate of Roy's privacy that he hated even to knock on the door. He'd stall for ten or fifteen minutes before he knocked. But the ticklers already knew that, since they made Roy tell 'em all about Deets...
Roy grabbed the doorknob.
And something tapped his head. Inside.
As he opened the door, Roy forgot what he was going to say. It just slipped his mind. It was important, too. Crucial...
He shrugged. The guy's house was three minutes away -
"Well, there he is," Deets said.

"In the flesh," Roy drawled, grinning. He checked the towel to make sure it wasn't gonna slip, and leaned against the door frame. At least the screen door was closed. "I was going to tell you something, and now I can't remember what it was... So how the hell are ya?"
"Can't complain," the old guy said. "Well, actually, I could. But nobody wants to listen to that."
"Hear hear," Roy said, taking a long drag. "How's Amalie? That arthritis isn't flaring up, now, is it?" Deets' wife got all shy and giggly around Roy, but in a sweet way. She avoided him whenever possible.
"No, she's doing real well, and thank you for asking. It just tickles her whenever you ask after her. Big Hollywood star..."
When he heard the word "tickles", Roy shivered. He didn't know why. It wasn't cold outside...
"Well, give her my love."
"Say... Now you know I wouldn't normally bother you this late, but I got the oddest telephone call today."
"Uh-oh," Roy said.
"Don't you worry none," the older man added quickly. "I didn't spill the beans."
"What was it about?"
"Aw... That Willis girl. She works for the sheriff."
"County sheriff?"
Deets frowned and shook his head. "What a bunch of buffoons."
"The Willis girl?" Roy prompted.
"Yeah. She took a call from somebody on a cell phone. Said they were you."
"Me?" Roy whistled.
"Just a crank call," Deets added.
"So... she called you?"
"The guy on the phone knew my name."
"A local."
"Uh-huh. I've been thinkin' about that. Jaeson down at the supermarket is as tight-lipped as they come, so I reckon it's Burl. He works at the post office."
"Is he new?"
"Naaaah. And he was real impressed when you, uh, helped out with the pool." Twenty thousand bucks well spent - the locals were great about keeping their mouths shut. Usually. He'd go into town every few weeks. Watch the Fourth of July parade, or just hang out in one of the bars and get drunk with the guys. Buy a couple rounds. They'd always done right by him before... The whole town had been great, minding their own business, proud of their big-shot movie star. Adopted son.
"Weird. Now why would somebody call the cops, pretending to be me?"
Deets looked down, and kicked a twig off the walkway. "Um. They said you were... uh... bein' kept prisoner."
Roy stared at him... and started laughing. "What?"

"I know," Deets said, holding up a hand. "That's what I thought."
"In my own house? Wow." Roy snuck in one last drag and cracked the screen door a little. Pinched the coal off the butt. "Somebody's got a wild imagination."
"I'll talk to Burl. Don't give it another thought."
"My money's on the kid at the store."
"Jaeson? He's almost your age. Got three kids."
"Does he make weird phone calls when he drinks?"
Deets blinked at him, and got the joke. "No, but he does like to fight when he's had a toot."
It took Roy a second to realize the old guy wasn't talkin' about cocaine. "Maybe the receptionist made it up."
"Huh?"
"Williams?"
"Oh - Willis. Dispatcher. Forget her."
"She knows I'm here -"
"No she don't," Deets said proudly. "I told her it was all a load of hooey."
Roy sighed. Good ol' Deets. "Oh yeah?"
"Told her the Armbrusters owned this place."
"Armbruster?" Roy chuckled. "How the hell am I gonna remember that?"
"You don't have to. I know the Willis girl. Attention span of a gnat."
"No uninvited company, that's my motto."

Deets nodded. "Whether they're hidin' behind a badge or not. Idiots." They both laughed. "How are you set for food?"
"I need whiskey," Roy leered. "Smokes."
"Why don't I just throw a painted hussy in there, while I'm at it?"
Painted hussy. Yikes. "Hey, you know any?"
Deets looked at the ground as if there was something interesting there. He knew. Just too tactful to bring it up first...
So Roy got it out of the way. "I doubt you'll see Sherri up here again."
"Darn it. So it's true."
"Yeeeeah."
"Well, better days are coming."
"Thank you."
"Hmmmm. I'll pick up whatever you want, as usual - if you promise to be careful in there. Don't go settin' the place on fire."
Roy crossed his heart and smirked.
"At some point, though, you gotta crawl back out of the bottle." Deets got a kick out of Roy's adventures. Fast living, he called it...
"And here I was thinkin' alcoholism is the proper response."
"Not anymore. You're about fifty years too late."
"Shit. Alright, then, you got a deal. You're too good to me... And actually, uh, I am running low on some stuff. Such as food."
The old guy nodded. "Thought maybe you were. Leave me a list."
"I'll put it out tonight." Deets would go into his part of the garage tomorrow, and the goods would appear there by the end of the day. He always came through.
"I saw you were taking the packages inside... Lights going on and off, so I figured you were doin' okay."

Roy squinted at him. Packages? He hadn't gotten anything. Not since the last time he was there, when some scripts were sent up - January, or February - but he hadn't even gone out into the garage in a while... Deets was confused. Whatever. He finally nodded. "I'm... getting by," he chuckled. "Milking it. For sympathy. Publicity. Poor little rich guy. How could Sherri go and do that to him... and so on."
Deets just shook his head. "What a world... Does that mean you'll be hiding out all summer?"
"You're stuck with me all winter, too," Roy nodded. "Maybe longer."
"You don't say. I guess that'll settle her hash." They both laughed at that. "So you gonna slow down and smell the roses now?"
"Uh-huh. Been too long. Which reminds me, I'm gonna need to get some firewood."
"Done," the caretaker said. "I've got a buddy who works for the Forest Service." He yawned. "Well, young man, I've talked your ear off enough. Glad to see you're not three sheets to the wind already." He turned to go.
"Try me in about an hour," Roy laughed, waving. The old codger would be fast asleep by then.
"Ha. That's the spirit," Deets said, over his shoulder. Roy groaned at the pun, and the old man went home.
When he closed the front door, Roy had a smile on his face. He looked down -
What the hell was he wearing on his ankles?
A thump seemed to bounce off the side of his head -
And a soft hand clamped over his mouth...

"How are you doing this?" he barked. Lunging all around, but the gloves held his arms tight -
The padlock clicked shut, and the door was secured again.
"It's very complicated," Lei said. The gloves turned him around.
"Yeah, right..." He tried to pull away, but they carried him right over to the kitchen counter and sat him down on a stool.
Tap -
"Roy, honey - would you care for a cigar?"
Oh, fuck. Fuck. The craving was impossible. There was nothing he wanted more than a cigar. Right away. He couldn't speak. And not a cigarette, either - one of those Cuban-seed cigars they kept in the cupboard. A real smoke.
He moaned, and swallowed a mouthful of spit. "Yuh..."
The door opened, and a wonderful sight came into view. Oh, yeah. That's what he was after.
Slowly, the cigar cutter met up with it. Snip... "Would you be willing," Snip. "To do us a little favor?"
"Any...th-thing," he stuttered, reaching for it. Gloves pulled his arms back down to the counter and pinned 'em there. A box of matches floated out of the drawer. He was gonna freak out if he didn't smoke that bad boy.
"Good. We need you to write out a quick little list -"
"Sure," he interrupted. "Just let me smoke now. Right now."
The cigar came to him - and stopped, a few inches from his nose. His cock was even getting hard. Oh, fuck, gimme gimme. "And... Roy... We want to hear you beg."
He whimpered. "Now?"
"No, handsome. Later. We'll tell you when."
"Sure. Yeah, sure. Okay," he babbled, craning his neck forward.
"You promise?"
"Yeah! Please -"
The cigar floated closer. He snapped at it, and let out a happily little yelp when a match was dragged to life. Then, just frantic with bliss, he was... puffing.

Half an hour later, he sprawled on the couch, looking at the ceiling.
"This is the best damn cigar I've ever had," he said for the fifth time. "I can't get over it."
"So I hear," Max said drily.
"You're in a weird mood, babe," Lei goaded. "Why'd you want a cigar?"
He looked it over. "Fuck if I know."
A whiskey bottle headed his way. "Sit up. It's a celebration," Max told him.
"It is? Why?"
"We accomplished a lot today."
"The last of the loose ends," Lei sighed.
"Is that so," he said quietly. The day was sorta fuzzy. He had a bad feeling, all of a sudden -
"Let's see," Max announced. "You called the police. They refused to come out and set you free... But they called Deets. He had a nice chat with you, so he's reassured - and he's lying to people about you being here. And now we know we can count on him to keep the food coming -"
"And the other... shipments," Lei giggled at him.
"And firewood."
"Plus, sweetcakes, you've got a major attitude adjustment coming to ya."
"Which you're gonna beg for."
Roy looked annoyed. "I thought... Wait. You want me to beg you - to tickle me."
"Oh, yeah."
Shameless groveling."
They laughed at him for a good twenty seconds. He took a few dedicated puffs. "You've gotta tell me what kind of cigar this is. I can't believe how great... Uh..."
Another beer paused in midair, on its way over, and the ticklers cracked up again.

- - 17 - -

He laid there most days, or sat there - hung there, whatever, as the tickling slammed home - more and more demanding, unstoppable, irresistible power...

They had to have missed something. Nobody was perfect.

Roy went through a stretch where he was all nervous about it. Any second now, they'd jump him again... Here it comes.
He smoked continuously, scanning whatever room he was in for the next attack. They always started back in - eventually.
The ticklers didn't say or do anything different. After a while, he adjusted. Their calm delight was the same, and the tickling was the same. Worrying about it didn't make it happen any less. Or any more often, either.

It took him weeks to relax completely.
After he did, the attacks were just as careful, and grueling, as before.
 

Locked down on the tickle-bench, he smelled the familiar dusty smell when the heater was fired up...
And when they let him watch TV the next morning, he went straight to the program guide.
It was September 27.
 

He smoked and thought about it. Why did I come up here, again, to the lake-house? The trap...
Oh. Sherri. That's right. Take some time to... get over it.
More specifically, to face the stone cold facts and whatever emotions came up with 'em. Feel it. That's right.
What a fucktard. All kinds of feeling going on, but not what he had in mind. Felt up. Continuous feeling. Hell, yeah. Feel this on your arches, Roy. Under your knees. How's that for something to feel? What do you say we just double what you're feeling right now...
Shit, he thought vaguely, as brushes cycled over his body, and the cigarettes came and went. I must have done something really awful, to deserve all this. I wonder what it was.
 

Deep green powder, straight from the vial. Stirred into his drinking water, dramatically, while he watched.
It made him more alert... and warmer. His skin throbbed. He wasn't any more ticklish - at first.
Not until they started kneading. The deeper stimulation just set him off. Totally frantic. Howling like a monkey.
 

October, already? The 20th. Maybe the 21st, he couldn't keep track.
"I got one," he said triumphantly, during a smoke break. Up on the vertical rack, getting his arms rubbed - not by gloves. Just... invisible hands.
"O-kay," Lei chirped. "Let's hear it."
"ATM withdrawals."
"What ATM withdrawals?"
"Shit. Credit cards?"
There was a pause. The grips slid over his elbows, and back...
"You're not at your best right now," she said kindly.
"What does that mean?"
"Well, maybe all this tickling is making it really hard to think."
"Fuck, Lei - ya think so?"
"I just love the way you look when you're that confused. C'mon, babe. You already have a long pattern of using your card up in these parts."
"The accountants... They know I own this place."
"Aren't they sworn to secrecy?"
He just sighed. Technically, yes. Unless Sal got a court order.
"Uh-huh," she said. "Nice try, though."

- - 18 - -

He dreamt he was back on the set of "Movietone". The flapper scene...
All those feather boas, like flying snakes. Nobody else was around. He yelled for help anyway. The boas were blocking his way -
A magician's wand appeared, and made the expected gesture. And there, in the proverbial puff of smoke, was a wooden box. Barred windows on the sides, and padding. Round holes above and below, which could only be meant to hold his limbs.
Then the boas were wrapping around his arms. Incredibly strong. The wand gestured, at him - and his gangster costume was gone.
As he was dragged toward the box, the lid lifted off the ground, and some thick chains followed it, getting all ready.
After he was locked in, and stretched out... the boas threaded themselves between the bars. Sawing back and forth across his body. Weaving between his toes -

Roy realized he wasn't in the box. Actually, he was waking up. The dream was over. Relief swamped him.
"There's nothing more elegant than leather," Max said.
He opened his eyes.
Living room. He was on the couch... but that wasn't what the leather she was talking about.
There were cuffs on his wrists and ankles, and they were locked together. A strap was pulling 'em straight up. Magic in real life.
He started to buck, and his ass never even broke contact.
"It's a classic. Durable..."
A big squadron of feathers angled down to his feet.
"Leather, and feather," Lei said. "Hey, that rhymes."
Six of the feathers sauntered down to his chest. His belly -
"No, c'mon," he protested. "Not like this -"
"Hunky major celebrity, howling the night away," Max taunted. The strap tugged once, almost lifting him off the couch. "I think leather is the right choice."
"He'd look good in a potato sack," Lei sighed happily. "But this is so much better. Tonight... a leather tether." She laughed, and Max groaned at the pun.
The feathers started tickling - and Roy laughed too.

He kept laughing long after they'd stopped.
Squealing and hooting, until the tears ran off the sides of his head... and the piss flowed.
Then he laughed a little harder.
 

Shit, it was cold...
And why was he on the floor?
Hung over, too. Roy sat up carefully. Even moving real slow, he heard something creak.
The jacket. Heavy biker jacket. It made noise when he moved. They'd dressed him. This was a first.
Sweatshirt, black jeans - engineer boots. First time he wasn't barefoot since the night he drove up here. Just the feeling of the boot soles against his feet made him nervous. He didn't like it.
Balling up his fists, he examined the tight black gloves they'd pulled on him.
He felt a breeze, and turned around.
The sliding door was wide open.

Another trap. He was sure of it. Luring him... so he'd make a run for it. They'd even dressed him. Really sadistic.
And there were no smokes on the coffee table. Roy got fidgety, but he was kinda afraid to get up. The boots had to come off - before they started tickling him somehow, the sensation of feathers dragging down, fingertips pushing between his toes, and the thick leather refusing to be kicked off, blocking him from doing a damn thing to interrupt...
Roy had another thought. He stopped pulling down on his right boot. They probably wanted the boots off. It didn't seem like such a good idea for him to take any clothes off himself. Look, babes - I want to go barefoot. They'd probably consider that an invitation to jump him.
Anything he did could get turned around and used against him anyway.

Dammit, he wanted a fuckin' cigarette...
Out of desperation, he checked the jacket pockets. Oh.
There was a pack of unfiltered cigarettes over his heart. He didn't recognize the brand. Mexican, possibly.
After he was kicking out smoke, he relaxed enough to check the other pockets. He found an enormous joint -
Something flicked against his skull.
Roy chortled at the doobie, and got off the floor. Swaggering down the hall, he headed into the bathroom and kicked the door shut. Fuck 'em.
When his bladder was empty, he lit a new cigarette and dropped the old butt in the toilet. To the kitchen, then. His hand fetched beer out of the fridge. Three bottles, gripped between the leather covering his fingers. He laughed at the sight of that, too.
Propped up, facing the open door, he sniffed the joint and got his lighter out again.

Good weed. Not great, but above average.
It took him a while to get the gloves off. And when he did, he snorted. More artwork. Someone had been drawing all over his hands. Permanent ink, again. He whistled.
Feathers. Brushes. Rope, chains -
Oh. And letters... On the knuckles of his left hand, L-A-F-F.
Right hand, S-L-U-T.
"Real nice," he mumbled. Laff slut. He pulled the gloves back on, and paid more attention to the joint.

After it was gone he burned through the rest of the cigarettes. Knocked back the beers. The sun was going down...
Lunch had not been served. That got him laughing. Somehow, that was fuckin' hilarious. His torturers hadn't cooked him anything nice to eat.
It really got him wondering. though. Was it possible they'd left? Just like that?
Wouldn't that be swell...

When he could manage to sit up, it was dark. The damn door was still open. Daring him. And the room was cold. Eventually he had to close it - or slip through it.
Roy went into the kitchen. Where the hell did they hide his cigarettes?
He settled for a cigar. Puffed on it, got it going good... and looked out at the trees. It was overcast, so he couldn't see the stars - or the lake, from where he stood.
Run over to Deets' place, call Sal...
But if they were waiting him out, seeing if he tried to made a break for it - the punishment would be catastrophic. If not... well, another few minutes wouldn't hurt.
Roy made a sandwich.

There was a new carton under his bed.
He stashed a couple packs in the pockets of the jacket. Okay. He forced himself to take a few deep breaths, visualizing the getaway. Out, around, beeline for Deets. Roy tromped down the hall. The boots would slow him down a little, but all of the choices he could find were brand new boots. He wondered if they'd thrown his own stuff away...
Roy stood in the living room. Looking at the sliding door. Today was the first time he'd seen it open in three months - almost four.
Would they mess with him like this? Then punish the fuck out of him for trying to escape?
Sure. If they were still here.
If.
He looked around, and lit another cigarette. Followed it with one more, thinking real hard...
No more stalling. If they were gonna shred him, there was nothing else to do but get it over with. Turning around, he backed up slowly, watching the room. Nothing moved.
A last drag, and Roy took the cigarette and sprang it outside. It bounced down the deck steps. The air was clear and cold. Just a little wind. Outside...
He couldn't believe it. The snub-toe of his right boot cleared the threshold. Then the left boot.
Roy took another step out. Leaves crunched under the boots.
Free!
Then something fell on him.
A thick net...

They fuckin' tore into him for days.
Three days, easy. Four. Maybe five.

- - 19 - -

Lots of Thanksgiving ads on TV.
That got to him, for some reason. It highlighted how long he'd been caught. Drove up in July, wearing that stupid nicotine patch. Happy holidays, fucker. Laugh it up.

"Don't you ever get tired of torturing me?"
"Uh... no," Lei said.
"Not me," Max chimed in.
He blew smoke out of his nose.
"Somebody needs a good chuckle."
That did it. No matter what, they tortured him. Roy felt the anger go, overwhelming him like it never had before. Chain reaction -
"The hell I do!," he roared. "Get away from me!" It hurt to yell that loud.
"Roy, honey -"
"Here it comes," Max said.
A ring of keys floated up. The sight of it pissed him off even more. Roy didn't know he could be that angry...
They were taking him down. Off the swing. Hands started to pick him up -
"Let... go!," he shouted. Which made no sense, because he'd just fall on the floor if they didn't help. But he didn't want them to touch him. Ever again -
They dropped the padlocks and took hold of his limbs. He fought 'em all the way down, as they hustled him out of his room, into the living room.
To the recliner.
"No! Dammit!"
"Easy, sport -"
"Leave me alone!"
Invisible hands pressed him down. The footrest popped out, and they leaned him backward.
"Let go. Right now."
"Calm down -"
"No! I am not gonna fuckin' calm down. Let me go - get the hell out of my house!"
"Roy -"
He shouted. A long, wordless yell. It was so loud that it shocked him. It didn't sound human. Like a bear or something... His throat hurt.
"Uh-oh," one of them said.
Roy flopped around as hard as he could.
The hands just pinned him down for awhile.

After a good hour, they tried to give him a cigarette. That pissed him off all over again. And he didn't even know why...
He strained to get out from under the hands. Fought 'em with all he had, for a minute or two. Then he just laid there, trembling with rage.

"Do you want water? Or beer?"
"Fuck off," he spat, trying to slide around.
A water bottle came anyway. It landed by his hip, out of reach.
The cigarette - which had been waiting by his chin - snuck between his teeth. Roy growled, and whipped his face away from it -
More hands caught his chin and forehead, and pressed down. His head sank into the padded leather.
When the cigarette returned, he spat it out once... and then he sighed, and held onto it. A lighter clacked open and got him started.
Most of a pack followed, one after the other.

At one point Roy tried to look at the water bottle, and it came to his mouth. There were two more bottles...
Fingers touched him. His face -
He recoiled, and showed his teeth.
But they kept stroking. Soothing him, or trying to. Two fingers, or four, rubbing his temples, the line of his jaw.
They kept it up for a good half-hour.

"Better?," Max asked.
"Yeah," he said. All of the fury was gone, and he was left with... vague despair. "Just let me get up. Okay?"
The hands let go of him, one by one.
"Cigarettes?," Roy asked. He held out his hand. A new pack flew into his waiting fingers. He hustled down to the bathroom.
A steak was waiting when he came out. Sauteed mushrooms, baked potato, garlic bread. Triple chocolate cake.
Then beer, and whiskey. They insisted. Gently.

He sat on the couch and watched an entire movie without hearing a word out of either of 'em.

"Much better," Lei finally ventured, as he exhaled smoke.
"Fuck," he said, fighting a yawn. He was disgusted with the ticklers, but anger wasn't in him anymore. No point - in feeling anything. He'd be delirious an hour from now, no matter what he felt about it.
"Laff slut."
"Yeah, that's it. Keep pushing."
"What got into you, anyway?," Lei asked.
"You just don't get it," Roy complained. "Look. What you're doing to me... You have no right to do this."
There was a pause.
"And?"
"And what? That's it. End of story."
"Roy. That's what makes it fun..."
He sighed again.
Max jumped back into the conversation. "You're gonna laugh whenever we want you to laugh."
"Uh-huh. Thanks for clearing that up."
"For as long as we want you to laugh."
"Uh-huh."
"And it's only November. Roy."
"Thanks. I almost forgot for a second."
"Hey, babe," Lei said. "Why now? We thought you'd blow up long before this."
He burped. "No idea."
"Take a guess."
"I dunno. Guess I still thought I'd get away from you."
"And now?," Max almost whispered.
Roy shrugged. "That's just... stupid."
"Correct."
"You got really mad," Lei said. She sounded worried herself.
"No point," he muttered, feeling more pessimistic than he had since they snagged him.
"Yes, there is," Max said at once.
"Huh?"
"Who else are you mad at?"
He sat up straight, and put his feet on the floor. As if he was going to get up and leave. Hah. "Nobody."
"Roy. Who else are you mad at?"
"You."
"Who else?" Dammit, leave me alone, he thought, getting himself a new smoke. "Myself, I guess."
"Don't guess," Max persisted. "Who else?"
Lei sighed, from somewhere over his feet. "He's not ready, Max."
"Wait - Uh, I'm angry... uh, I'm angry at me - 'cause I walked right into this -"
"Ssshhhh," Lei soothed. "Let it go, handsome. Or I'll start tickling these wonderful feet of yours right now. Put 'em in the stocks."
He scowled at the ceiling. "You're fucked in the head. Both of you."
"No, sweetcheeks. We don't have heads."

Finally, they turned off the TV and put the cuffs on him. Spread him out, right there on the couch, and got to it. Rubber gloves. Lots of oil.
Deep, crawling fingers. Not letting him cum. He felt like a pet cat or something, loved way too much. The gag was back between his teeth, even though he wasn't laughing. He moaned, more than anything...
Laff slut.
Of all things, that flipped him over. Pleasure, excitement. Hot fun. Roy dove in...
Alright. If you're gonna do it, let's go.

And they kept him feverish. When he finally pumped off, it left him completely wiped out.
They let him drift off to sleep.

- - 20 - -

He woke up. Fully awake in an instant -
No tickling. That was the big thing.
Roy rolled over, and was surprised to discover he could. Laying in his bed, with no restraints on.
Noises barely made it in... from the kitchen. Pots and pans, running water...
He closed his eyes, and heaved a big sigh. Going back to sleep seemed like a possibility.
Of course, his brain said casually, this could be a setup. They let you think you're gonna be left alone, and then... wham.
That got him worried. He didn't move - but he'd already rolled over, so they had to know he was awake.
He created good, solid arguments for getting up - or not moving a muscle. Then he realized he was thinking way too much.
Roy peeked, but no gloves or tools were hanging over him. He coughed a few times, and looked at the stocks for awhile.
"You are such a sexy beast," Max said, from over by the doorway.
"Thank you," he replied politely. He didn't budge. Pity the hunk, don't tickle him. Sometimes it worked.
She chuckled. Kind chuckles. "You want breakfast in bed?"
"No - thanks," he said quickly, hurrying to get up. "I'll go out there." It wasn't smart to lie there, voluntarily - and he'd learned that one the hard way too. Gave 'em ideas.

"I'm mentally scarred," he said, curled up in the recliner. "Traumatized."
"Think fast," Max said.
"Huh?"
His cell phone. Flying. He barely caught it.
Lei tittered. "So... What's Kev been up to?"
Thump. Left side of his head, over his ear -
Roy laughed. He tapped through the stored numbers, punched the right buttons, and got himself a smoke...
"Yeah."
"Hey, you sick son of a bitch..."
"Uh... Tool? That you?"
"Good guess, asshole. Merry Christmas."
Kevin snorted. "About time you called me. Prick. Where are ya?"
He got fuzzy. Where am I? He looked around... Oh yeah. The lake-house. He was hiding out. "I'm in seclusion."
"Still? You are such a fucking star."
"Yeah. I am," Roy said, pretending to be humble. "Whatcha doing?"

Same old Kev. Funny as hell. He'd been on a shoot in New England, somewhere, all summer. Got back a few weeks ago. Said he knew Roy would check in eventually.
Kev was sympathetic at the right time, and not too sympathetic either. Now that she was gone, he could safely trot out all the rumors, weird shit he'd heard.
"I know I gave you the phone number here -"
Kev made a raspberry sound into the phone. "Listen real hard, now - no, you didn't."
"Well... Get a pen." And Roy rattled the number right off, staring at the phone on the counter as he did.

Kev laughed a lot. He always had a weird laugh, like he was coked to the gills...
It felt good to laugh, Roy thought. Been too long - and that thought bothered him, somehow. But before he figured it out Kev started in on a great story about Sherri's new fucktoy, and all the roadies swore it was true.

He smoked half a pack of cigarettes, and knocked off a couple beers that floated over to him. He didn't give 'em a second thought. Just glad they were handy.
When he reached for the pack and found it empty, a new one landed gently in his lap.
Roy just nodded once.

Kev had to go. Third callback on a gen-Z comedy.
"So call me sometime," he sassed.
Roy put a little outrage into his voice. "Dude. I just did."
"Oh. Okay. Hey, check your fucking voice mail once in a while."
"I will. I'm an ass."
"Uh-huh. Stay real, sthweetie."
"You too," Roy chuckled. "Toodles."
"Hang in there."
"Uh-huh."
"Jerk."
"Loser." And Roy hit the 'end' button. He leaned back and took a long drag. That was great. He really had to start checking his voice mail -
"Ro-oyy," Lei chirped.
"Yes, ma'am."
"How ya feeling?"
"Excellent."
"That's good."
He finished his smoke and punched it out. Leaning back, he closed his eyes.
"Sounded like a good conversation," Max said.
"That... was a great conversation," he agreed.
"You know how long you were on the phone?"
Roy shrugged.
"An hour and five minutes."
"No kidding."
"No... kidding."
That bothered him. The tone of voice.
"Not bad for a mentally scarred prisoner."
Huh? What was that about? "Thank you," he said uncertainly -
Then he remembered. Whining about that... right before the phone call.
"So traumatized, he didn't even tell Kev the big news. What's been happening to him," Lei said in that wide-eyed voice.
News. Didn't tell...
Something touched the side of his head.
His eyes flew open. "I must've told him."
Above him, four cuffs waited.
"Nope."
"I didn't tell him?"
"Guess it slipped your mind," Lei teased quietly.
"But..."
"Well," Max said, "he is in seclusion."
"He sure is."
The cuffs flew down. Hands pushed him down into the cushions.
"Nnnnnooooo -"
"Same private party as yesterday," Max snickered. "Tickling threesome. Let's make it a marathon, Roy."
The cuffs got a last tug to check 'em. One at a time, tug tug tug tug.
Lei just giggled.
Flopping around, Roy was picked up. Carried to his room.
"Same big news as tomorrow, too."
"And the day after that, Max?"
"And the month after that. And the next one, and the next one..."
The door slammed and locked.
One of the chains hanging from the ceiling swung up, as if he was a magnet. I'm an attractor, he thought frantically, lunging around. Box-office attractor. Magnet for bondage shit, gloves, feathers...
The chain threaded through the rings of his right wrist-cuff, and the padlock clasp snapped through the double rings. "There," Max said. "One down."
Roy squealed and fought. He backed up anyway. The right ankle-chain was next.
Left ankle, left wrist.
A belt slapped against his ass, pressing on his hips. Lifting him. Additional support. Eventually they'd add the other cuffs. Triceps, and thighs. That made it easier. With the shape he was in, he could hang there all night if they put the other cuffs on him -
His struggles made him swing.
But not enough to get away from the feathers... which wiggled, holding his stare, until they arrived at their touchy destinations.
An invisible hand patted his thigh. Lei, he guessed, before she sighed. "Couldn't happen to a nicer guy."

On to Part 5

Back to Part 1 - Part 3

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