They were drunk, of course.
Davey started it. What a jackass. And Ben didn't need much prompting to follow Davey's lead. They grabbed Rico first...
Davey worked on his sides, while Ben held the poor slob down.
After a couple minutes they wound down, panting like crazy, and one by one looked over at Thor.
It took all three of 'em. If he hadn't been drinking tequila they never would've been able to take him down. He always overdid the tequila...
But Ben got one arm, and Davey got the other.
When Rico's fingers crawled around his belly button - and that frickin' diabolical grin, as if the little turd knew what was gonna happen - Thor totally lost it. The electrical shocks which seemed to be blasting from each fingertip made it impossible for him to pull and fight.
A high, mournful wail was the signal that made 'em tighten their grip. He was really screwed then.
Rico started fingering his ribs...
It was no more than two or three minutes - but still, between the chaos inside and the embarrassment, or something, he damn near passed out.
No more tequila, Thor told himself one more time as he rolled into bed. That's it.
He needed to piss.
Yawning, Thor rolled over.
This wasn't his room. There was no window -
Chrome rings on the ceiling.
To the right, his eyes found thick, padded stocks.
This cannot frickin' happen for real, he thought. Not to me. Maybe I'm dreaming all of this - but those stocks looked real enough.
"Pervert..." and then he shut up quick. He was looking at the table just out of reach, to his left. Two feather dusters were there, waiting. Toothbrushes, other brushes like an artist would use...
Right away he was starting to sit up. Damn tequila - never again. The stuff on the table had kicked off an idea, and it was the frickin' worst -
"Say again?" A low voice said.
Thor whipped his head around. Some guy, right in front of him - but he was alone. Invisible? But still here. With invisible hands, maybe. Fingers - that just made "worst" take on a whole new meaning, oh hell yeah. "You can't -"
"Bullshit. I can. It's why you're here, outlaw," the mystery dude said, sounding all cocky. "I saw 'em get you good."
"No," Thor said immediately. There was no way that ambush could've led... to this.
He felt doomed. And outclassed. He didn't like either of those feelings much. Somebody got him in this room - for hardcore... Well, shit, he couldn't even think the word.
Dammit, he realized, I know what this feeling is. I'm scared shitless -
A strip of something black floated up to greet him.
Oh crap, his brain hollered, that's leather - go now! It was about three layers thick and had a big ol' buckle. The end of the frickin' world was coming -
"Ever had your hands stuck? Really anchored..."
"Alright," he said as mean as he could. "I'm outa here." He made for the edge of the bed -
And in no time there was a hand slapping down on his left shoulder. Fingers curled over and held tight, lined up as if there had been a dude sitting right in front of him. Thor stared at nothing, but there was still the grip sitting on him - locked on - right there.
"No, you're not," the voice said quietly.
More hands grabbed his right arm and pulled it forward. Strong bastards. The hair on his arms was mashed down in some places under the pressure...
"Hey!"
The asshole chuckled, low and easy. It was the kind of noise Thor made when he was thinkin' yeah, this is gonna be fun...
Wrist, forearm, triceps - there were five or six hands locked on.
Now, he worked out hard at least twice a week. It was the only way he kept from goin' off on the real stupid cagers. So his arm was lookin' real damn good. Big and solid. Dammit, nobody messed with him -
The cuff leviated down to his wrist.
I can't let this happen, he thought. But damn, they just had a death-grip...
"Don't be scared. Outlaw. It's just tickling."
No matter what he did, they held his arm still enough - and the cuff wrapped around his wrist, buckled down tight.
"I didn't say you could do this," he blurted.
More hands pulled his left arm around. "Does it look like you got a choice?"
He concentrated on some serious resistance, but they pulled most of his clothes off anyway.
"You ain't lived," the invisible guy said, "until you've been stretched out - and just shredded. Tickled aaa-alll over."
"No. Awwwww shit, no you don't, pleeeeeeze..."
Cuffs were being buckled around his ankles. Both legs at the same time. No matter how much fight he put up, the son of a bitch had all kinds of hands. And they were stronger than he was, dammit.
Apparently the blanket had been pulled off. There was a sheet that was real shiny, and slippery, perfectly white except for lint here and there.
Metal clips were snapping - and the hands all let go of him.
The son of a bitch pulled him down, and his ankles moved toward the end of the mattress. His heels went off the edge, hanging there... even closer to the feathers 'n shit.
No matter what he tried, the straps went tight. Stayed that way.
Then it was his hands' turn. Up they went.
While he pulled and squirmed every damn way he could, Thor got to watch more straps float down and get his upper arms, just above the elbows. They were snaking off either side of the bed, after looping under both arms. Tension -
And boom, he wasn't going to roll over.
Shit, his sides were really gonna get it. Thor was dizzy... with fear. Dammit.
Another strap was worked under his back. It ended up around his hips, like a belt. Good luck bouncing off the damn bed now, Thor thought. I'm done for. It's really gonna tickle me. Hard. So incredibly, impossibly screwed.
"Help!" he boomed.
"Ain't no one around," the voice said.
"Dammit. Hey! Somebody! Haaaaaaalllllp!" He stopped flailing around, and listened.
"Forget you-uuuu," the invisible guy mocked - real quiet, making it sound like an answer from far away.
"Kiss my ass," Thor snapped. Chuckling. So ridiculous, every bit of it. Aw hell, it had to be nerves or something.
"Have a good tii-iiiime," and then the kidnapper snickered at its own joke. Stupid or not, reflex or not, Thor felt a little hysterical already. It was the way the bastard had said those last couple things. Really, whatever else could be said, the asshole had a sense of humor.
"There he is. Freakin' out, huh?" After a second, he nodded. "Guess that can't be helped."
"Bullshit. Just let me go."
"Eventually."
"Oh, man."
"Thor." The voice was no-nonsense all of a sudden. Hey, wait, so the douchebag knew his name? "Pull and tug as hard as you want. But you ain't gonna hurt yourself. Any other problems show up, I'm real good at first aid. Keep you in the game, right? But really, bro, this is a lot more than a game to me. It's real serious."
"Don't, dude, c'mon!"
"The fire's gonna build up, more and more, until you forget how many hours it's been since you could even remember how to laugh."
He whined out of pure panic. Tickling, oh shit, as hardcore as it can get -
"But I got your back. Believe it or not -"
"No no no no!" he begged. "Listen, you can't, I'll freakin' explode or something. Aw, please - aw shit!"
"Easy there, buckaroo."
"Please don't. I can't stand this, I mean I really can't take this shit, you gotta believe meeee..."
His limbs couldn't frickin' move. No matter what. He was about to go on the worst ride of his whole freakin' life, right here.
"Hey. Get a grip."
Thor sagged back. You frickin' jackass, he thought. If I could get my hands free - and you had a neck...
So. This was for real. All of the tough-guy bullshit and bargaining wasn't gonna get him out of the nightmare. The secret was already out. It would've been excellent if somebody had heard him yell - and poked their head in the room right now, eyes all big, and whipped out a cell phone - but this sucker was smart. That wasn't going to be allowed.
Say it, he told himself, admit it and maybe it'll get easier...
He was about to be tickled, absolutely intense, all over, and it was probably gonna continue until he passed out. Shit, that creeped him out somethin' fierce. But he tried to get it all out there at once...
Obviously there wasn't a chance in hell he could lift a finger to slow the bastard down. All those hands. And he had to face facts, there wasn't a soul on this earth that would accidentally hear him just frickin' holler his laughter in here. Shit, he was almost hoarse after a good football game. Before the night was over he wouldn't be howling loud enough for anybody to hear him. And then all bets were off.
He would've given just about anything, right then, to get the magical bastard to stand down.
Man, his whole body was really stuck there. Laid out.
His limbs couldn't frickin' move. No matter what. He was in position for the worst ride of his life.
"I hate you," he said suddenly.
"Yup."
A pointy brown feather rose off that table with all the toys and headed on over.
"No, oh no, nooooooo," he whined.
"I oughta warn you now - before you go totally frickin' insane - that this is gonna be brutal," the voice promised.
Writhing, yelling, Thor watched the feather approach his belly.
"And I'm so good, it'll just keep hitting harder, and harder."
"Uh-huh," he wailed, tensing up his gut-muscles for the first awful sweep.
That was, far and away, the longest night of his life.
Things happened that he didn't even want to think about. Thor never dreamed that tickling could scramble his head that much. It just kept on hitting him harder and harder.
The tickler had a good ol' time. It was way too good at... what it liked. He was so frickin' relieved that was over. Every muscle seemed to ache -
He opened his eyes - and recognized the ceiling.
Still there. More. Aw hell, no. More?
Thor tried to move his arms. Then his legs. Nothin' doin'.
"Hey, there he is," the voice said.
It seemed like the bastard had been kneading, with the oily gloves, for a month straight. It was only a few hours since he woke up, but those firm hands had been leaning on the wrong places in exactly the most mindblowing way for way too long. Now Thor had caught his breath again, so the action was gonna continue real soon. He was miserably awake - all over again - back from the dream-place where the gloves had kept him down and tickled like nobody's business...
"Sometimes we gotta slow it down," the tickler said pleasantly, "so you can get enough air. Stay sharp. Feel it as m-"
"Naaaaaw pleeeee-eeeeeeze!"
"As much as you can. That'll increase every hour, of course. Every day. Count on it. You've gotta pull it together enough to really feel each finger. Every feather-stroke."
"You're killin' m-me."
"You wish. No, this is gonna go on forever." There was some definite happiness in the way that last word was said. "That's what it'll feel like. All over you, buddy. Your feet... I mean, damn. They're a full-time job."
He started to giggle.
"And you know I'm gonna cover your ribs some more. Talkin' hours, here. Mess you up."
A snort or two came out of his mouth, and then he was snickering his head off. Not a frickin' feather on him, and it sorta bothered Thor that he was laughing - or it could've been the way he sounded. Too damn happy. Like he was on board or something...
"Stick it to your belly-button. That just drives you up the wall, don't it? Armpits - hell, they're not even warmed up yet. Gonna spend hours... and more hours... finding out how to waste 'em good. And you can't move."
Oh, wow, he started to whoop and bray just at the thought. The bastard wasn't kidding around. It was that serious about this shit. It said hours, frickin' obsessed with making it hit home harder and harder, and those gloves just frickin' ran the show alright.
"Yup. Get your thighs too. Knees -"
He let out a little scream of laughter, and then he just kept yelping.
His knees, it turned out, were insane. When he couldn't move 'em around, and the jackass could keep on stroking and digging around there... well, Thor had tears running down his cheeks just at the memory of it.
The tickler wasn't gonna ease off. So many red-hot places, all over his body. He only thought he was ticklish, before, and the toys were gonna absolutely ride him for a whole day that seemed like a thousand years or something. There would be no interrupting what it was gonna do to him, totally confident there was nobody on earth who would find out and cut him loose -
"Goin' deep," the voice said. Matter-of-fact. No need to talk big, 'cause Thor was pinned down and it had big freakin' plans for his ass. "Let's pull an all-nighter, outlaw. I know what you can take. Keep you awake, and feelin' everything. Yeah..."
So many memories flicked through his head - that rubber glove, this feather, those little wood roller-balls - and the frickin' intensity of each one came back to him. Thor was heaving, but the laughter didn't make any noise.
Light touches - oh, shit. There were feathers making contact with his chest.
"Noooo-hooo-hooo-oooooh," he sighed.
"But I gotta start slow," the voice complained, "since you just worked yourself up into a lather, and now you're panting like a dog again."
That soft, wispy texture slid down his package, waking up the boys...
Almost breathing normally again, he watched the toe-straps move. Like magic. Catching each of his toes in its own loop, adjusting the fit, tightening...
Every time he got used to the impossible bullshit - gloves that were in control, disposable razors that moved like they were alive - there was another little show. Considering what the dickhead had already been doing with his feet, seeing little frickin' leather restraints take charge of his toes made him wanna cry. It was so weird, so damn wrong.
But Thor hated bawling even more than being spread-eagled like a sex slave, so he got mad. That wasn't gonna change anything either, but he only had a couple more minutes to glare at the way his feet were trussed up before the fireworks were gonna start again.
"This is not possible," he said to the leather stretching his right foot.
"You keep saying that," the tickler said, like maybe it was puzzled. "Is that wishful thinking?"
Thor didn't know exactly what the bastard was talking about, or maybe he was still buzzing from the fever that had eaten up so many hours today. Man, his pecs just throbbed. "I dunno. This just, uh, doesn't really happen. Only in dreams."
"You have dreams like this?"
He laughed right away. Once, twice - and that was it. His voice was almost down to nuthin'. "No way. Huh-uh. I don't dream... too much. Talkin' about some other lop. Sick... Uh. some kinky son of a bitch. This is way beyond what I come up with."
"Uh-huh. Good to hear. You're welcome."
Out of pure reflex he made a "pffftt" noise, get the hell away from me, and his middle fingers went up. Not too smart, maybe -
But the bastard laughed. "So, uh, any chance you're only dreaming now? Me? All this?"
"Not a chance!" he blurted, yanking at the arm-straps. "Dammit. Don't think I didn't try to believe that. Crap. It gets to me too damn much. Anytime, I just lose it - but here..."
Six little brushes floated up. Small, round, with tight black bristles. He didn't recognize that type, so for all he knew they were made just for tickling. They made him freeze and stare.
"Seein' shit like those," he continued.
They all paused. "Uh-huh."
"You're not really g-gonna... get busy with those things?"
He heard chuckles - pretty frickin' cruel laughter - as the brushes went straight to his feet.
"I can't take this," he wailed.
"Oh, now."
And damn did they hit the ground running!
"Goin' anywhere?"
Thor started to laugh. It had been a while since he could manage it. Too many fingers, creeping everywhere, then brushes, then more feathers than he could count, other brushes, balls and wheels rolling, freakin' makeup tools and hairbrushes too, oily gloves and cloth fingers that were just so slippery it almost ached. Diggin' back in more times than he could count.
Here's your answer, he thought, quaking with laughter. It was silent, of course, because his voice had finally given out on the second day - which was yesterday, or maybe two days ago. It felt like a hundred. But it didn't seem to matter.
He was more freakin' ticklish each day. Thor had tried to talk himself down from that one, but ten seconds after every rest-break it was so damn obvious. That just didn't seem possible, even when he was living it...
The impact had surprised him so many times by shooting up higher, blasting harder. There was no way to make it stop tickling. No end to this.
He managed to shake his head a couple times.
Naw, I'm not going anywhere, he thought. And you know it.
Thor twitched, and gulped, and laughed some more.
"This is not okay, dammit!" he raged at the camera, fists yanking at the straps. "Taping this. When I get my hands on that frickin' thing..."
Four gloves hung there, with oil crawling down the fingers, and let him shoot his mouth off.
"I don't wanna do this, aw hell, I'm not into this shit."
The camcorder was getting a shot of those bastards, with him underneath, yelling just about silently and reefing on the frickin' straps -
They moved - those fingers, greased and filled. The camera followed 'em right down.
No, he thought, c'mon. This is ridiculous...
It was getting a real close shot of gloves, going where they wanna go, free as a bird. Assholes. And the shithead wanted to record 'em, obviously enough, having a major freaking' party on Thor's feet.
Dammit, the toe-straps wouldn't hardly even flinch.
Twenty fingers. Now, two gloves would've delivered only half the excitement. So it went with four...
His feet looked big when they were held up so straight -
"Don't," he begged. "Aw, no, don't."
Fingertips eased across, back up, making lazy diagonal tracks.
In no time he was gasping, growling, doing his best to flop around. The gloves didn't have a care in the world, now, 'cause he wasn't gonna fidget at all, much less sit up or cover one sole with the other. It was perfectly insane, so unbearable...
Thor just screeched helplessly, a gut-wrenching laugh followed by another, and so on, thrashing and pounding the mattress as much as he could, hooting like a frickin' fool.
Nothing helped. The fingers were on fire. Well, like they were blazing just enough. The oil, oh shit, just magnified every little detail. Their fingers kept sliding around - all over his arches, balls, heels.
He was beside himself. Lost it, snapped, laughing like only this bastard could force him to do. And they weren't even digging in yet. He knew what was coming. The fingers would lay down, then the palms, squeezing, picking up the tempo, scratching more firmly through the oil...
Racing, sometimes. Backing off, but keeping it solid, and then cranking things up again. Twenty times, fifty, a hundred.
Thor realized the fever was taking him down again. In that place, the sensation was even heavier, somehow closer to him.
The fingers were traveling out of sync, so every damn second was just full of torture. It really was. He didn't care if a single lazy finger or a couple hands actually doing a real massage could've felt good - what he was going through was so much crazier, it was obscene. He couldn't do a thing about it. His damn feet were in for the whole ride now...
While he still could manage it, he opened his eyes. Just barking laughter at the ceiling, no particular target, but the asswipe was invisible so it didn't matter where he aimed the protests.
Pulling gloves on - to mess with him like this. Every day it brought down a more complete ass-kicking than the day before.
Oh hell, the fingers were upshifting...
His laughter was winding down. The room seemed fuzzier.
If only he could pass out - just once! - instead of falling back to some place inside where the power of what he was feeling blew away any kind of distraction. He freakin' lived there now, most of the time.
Wobbly as hell, he picked up his head. Laughing and babbling at the blurry shapes - with tears running down one side of his face, sweat getting ready to roll on the other - was the only kind of pleading he can pull off, just then.
Hooting for the camera. There it was, just past the gloves. He could see the front of it, so the jerkoff had to be getting a great shot of the tickling... as well as Thor's snickering face.
No! Oh, no, no... They were digging in. Hell yeah, they were. Now the gloves were pulling out all the stops. Tickling so much harder.
That made him drop his head, and gulp, because the need to roar was just too damn much.
He didn't try to watch the water bottle float away. Thor had a much bigger problem...
There were gloves in his armpits. They hadn't gone anywhere as he caught his breath. Hell, they didn't need a break themselves.
Still holding on. Two on each side. Gonna start right back in.
"No," he said, as pitifully as he could, to the camera way up above him.
The fingers moved. Whoa - they got mean! Digging in, real heavy, dead center, and others were raking down his ribs and back up again, so fast...
Thor couldn't even howl. A few grunts, as he tried to throw himself around. The hands blew away every hope, every thought. They really had his number. Hard at it - and of course they weren't about to quit now.
A dream, one night, made him feel so good. The door was open, just a few inches. He wasn't strapped down, and the frickin' door -
Thor sat up.
Oh, wow. The door really was open. And the cuffs were gone.
There were words on his right arm, in ink from a red permanent marker...
CATCH YA LATER
"Asshole," he sighed. Thor's voice was so cracked it reminded him a lot of his grandpa's...
A table had been pulled right next to the bed. It had his clothes on it. Maybe hiding a bunch of frickin' gloves, ready to shove him back down.
He had to take a couple breaths to get his nerve up. Thor pulled his jacket on over, revealing two medium pizzas, a six-pack of beer - and his smokes.
Was it gaming him, he wondered. Pretending to be all done, and when he stepped outside - boom. There was no need to hurry, and after the first few seconds of panic Thor realized the invisible son of a bitch could sneak up on him anytime it liked. Now that was a freakin' depressing thought...
Running didn't matter. The jerk was way too good. He couldn't think of anything that might really give it extra trouble - though he had to believe there were some moves that were smarter than others. Trying to keep safe. It was definitely worth thinking about. His road-dog Wire was a smart bastard, he'd think of things that never would've come to mind for Thor - but that would involve telling Wire about this shit. Well, he was cool, not like that asshole Davey.
Oh, wow, he thought - and it hit him like a locomotive - ain't no one who's ever gonna buy this. Can't really happen. Right?
And sure as hell it wouldn't be happening to me.
Thor was so bummed, right then, that he chugged the whole beer in his hand and immediately reached for another.
Damn, his t-shirt was driving him crazy. As if there were little fingers, havin' a field day.
Thor sat there and snickered for the longest time...
His jeans didn't bother him nearly as much. Had to do somethin' about the wood he was packin', the minute he got home. No matter how bad he needed it, the shithead had put him through those paces right here on the bed and there was no way he would let himself do his business here again.
Gritting his teeth, he eased his socks on. Dammit, he was just gonna lose it, laughing this hard before his boots were even on. Thor would never have believed his feet could be reliving all the rough times they'd been through - without a single feather at work.
Giving up, he laid on his back and laughed for awhile. Even if it got to him, Thor kept his feet planted flat on the bed. Safer that way...
Safer? He busted up all over again. Not ever again. Catch ya later. Oh, hell, he was getting hysterical. Six days, unbelievably intense - or maybe seven days, he wasn't sure - and the frickin' sadist was gonna come after him again. Never over, now...
There was a noise.
He looked over, forcing the cackles to taper off for a second.
The door - it had opened further. Thor blinked a couple times.
"Hey," a voice said. Some chick.
Invisible.
His mouth was moving, but he couldn't get any words out. There was no way it could be happening again. Already. Not a chance.
"Gimme a break," he finally begged.
"Okay."
Definitely a woman's voice... and worse, it felt somehow like a different asswipe. Blocking the exit.
Yeah, he thought bleakly, I'm totally screwed again.
"I'm Helfa," the new torturer said. "What's your name?"
Despite himself, he relaxed a very little bit. "T-thor."
"Looks like you're not doing too bad, there."
He looked at his knees. Ah - her first sight of him, when he was laughing his head off. "It, uh, see, my clothes, I was just leaving."
"Not in any hurry."
"What?"
"I mean, there's cuffs on the floor. You were... kept here. For awhile. Right?" He nodded. "And some guys would've bolted the second they could."
He looked at his feet. "Well, yeah. I was - but my feet are all, uh -"
"You were grinning your head off!"
Thor had to try and get away from this bastard.
"Look, I gotta go."
"Aw. You just looked so happy, there. Laughing... on your own."
"Please," he said, somewhere between a threat and a prayer.
The pack of cigarettes floated off the mattress. Without thinking, he grabbed 'em.
"Relax," she said, real soothing. "I don't bite."
He had to squawk out a bitter laugh at that one, shaking a cigarette loose. "Ain't biting I'm, uh, worried about."
"Just put those two things together," she said. "You could've run like the wind - but you didn't. And when the sensations made it hard to get dressed, you laid back down... smiling real nice when I first saw you. Laughing it up."
I have got to get out of here, he thought. Taking another drag, he snuck a look - and whew, the door was still open. Maybe there was a chance. "Yeah? So?"
"Thor."
"Yup."
"Do you suppose the guys who really hate it would still be here, talking to me?"
His head was swimming.
No. Wrong, so wrong, completely insane. The new tickler didn't know shit...
"I... am not falling for t-this," he stammered.
"Call it whatever you want," the voice said, all friendly-like, "but right now you look way too thoughtful."
"I don't have to think about anything," he said, reaching for a boot. "You got no idea... how intense. Crazy-making. Forget the look on my face. That was torture! It ain't fair."
"Torture, huh?"
The door - oh HELL no!
Closing.
No way, absolutely no way his luck could be this bad.
And the chick laughed!
"Guess what most guys do, when they see this. The door, closing 'em in. Only a few seconds until it can get locked up tight. Every single guy who's had enough. They run so fast they're already outside -"
"Get bent," he snarled, jumping off the bed.
"Not another second of that shit," she continued - and there wasn't any real mocking tone there. "If I never get tickled again in my whole life it'll be a damn good thing."
At least the door had stopped again. Plenty of room to get his hand around it, and pull as hard as he could. Run for his life.
Thor stood there, with boots on that felt like they were lined with pins - but ice-cold pins, maybe electrified too, jiggling a little on their own... totally severe, making it an effort not to giggle. And yet there was something kinda interesting goin' on -
Cigarette between his lips, as there should be. Jacket in his hand. A few more steps and he'd be out of this horrible place forever.
That was when her question finally seemed to make sense.
"Why didn't I run?" he said quietly. "Straightaway."
To his amazement, the door opened all the way.
"Here," she said, from behind him - and he turned in that direction.
His wallet was floating up. A white card slid into the window-pocket, covering his license.
When it came to him, he grabbed it and made tracks.
"Aw damn - now don't that smell good," Wire groaned.
Thor had to laugh. The old dude was always trying to clean up the rest of the way. He used to have a serious problem with coke, then meth, but now he just sparked up from time to time. "You sure?" Thor said, holding the doob out.
"No, I'm not sure, but let's see if I can keep my hands off for awhile yet."
Thor shrugged.
"How are you feeling? About telling me this shit?" The guy was actually concerned. It had turned out to be a damn good idea to look up Wire, even if he was old enough to be Thor's dad...
"Kinda stupid. But not about you, especially. Word is you're one righteous bro."
Wire nodded. "Good to hear. I never get tired of hearing shit like that."
Thor felt heavy, and didn't wanna make eye contact just then. "Wish you believed me."
The old guy sorta sighed. "There's wanting to believe, and... being able to get my mind wrapped around some really weird shit. Y'know? And you got those bruises."
"I didn't shave my own frickin' pits," Thor mumbled.
"And I'm inclined to believe that too. No problem there. We never really hung out much, but I still say your voice is different. I remembered it being not as rough -"
"The bastard wouldn't let me smoke." They both laughed at that notion. "But I'm makin' up for it now, boy."
"Beyond a doubt, two huge things happened," Wire said. "You had some experience that absolutely rocked your world. Nobody saw you for a week, and they couldn't think of a time that long where you didn't at least come in for a beer once."
"Never."
"And then, there's the aftermath. You hated what was goin' on - believe me, I get that. But one way to read how you behaved right after is that you also maybe... y'know, the perks -"
"Oh hell no," Thor said, meaning it. "I couldn't, uh, be that way."
"What way?" Seeing that the other guy's mouth was firmly closed, Wire leaned over and tapped him on the shoulder. "Huh? Like, those weird freaks who get into shit like that?"
"Gay."
Wire fairly did a double-take. "What?"
Thor was all embarrassed. "I thought, I mean - c'mon. Bondage, getting milked, laughing like a frickin' fool all night. It seems..." He shrugged.
"Respectfully, little dude, come out and say it. Finish the sentence. I'm not one hundred percent sure what -"
"Gays do that shit."
"And? So?" Wire shook his head immediately. "No, wait. Back it up. Now, I wanna make sure I understand you correctly. Is it your... Wow. Just wow. Okay, two questions, then. You ever really talk one-on-one with a gay guy?"
"I don't know any."
Wire just studied him for a few seconds. Finally he shook his head, just a little bit. "And the worry, maybe, is that... if gay guys do anything along the lines of what you went through, then liking anything about the whole nightmare would mean you gotta be gay?"
Thor nodded real fast, so damn relieved.
Wire laughed. Got up. "C'mon."
"Where?"
The guy actually reached over like he was gonna pull Thor by the collar. "To the internet, son. Are you in for a freakin' education today!"
Back at his usual watering hole, he was so loose...
That made it a lot easier to dial the number.
Thor never told Wire about the card that jerkoff number two had stuck in his wallet. He did show him the red letters on his arm. It wasn't over. No doubt about it.
Third ring -
"Hey," real friendly. Maybe the same chick.
"I forgot your name," he said.
"Helfa. And you are?"
"Thor."
"Oooohhhh yeah. Wow. Am I glad to hear from you."
"Is that so?" he teased. What the hell am I doing, he thought, waving raw meet in front of the lions...
"Most of the time, you macho idiots just fight it. Tooth and nail."
"I'm not that tough."
"Bullshit."
He liked the way this conversation was going.
Taking a couple pulls from his beer, he looked around the bar to make sure the guys were far enough away. "Had a talk. With a friend."
"Yeah? How'd that go?"
"Well, I'm not gay."
"Wouldn't matter to me if you were," Helfa said immediately.
"Shit, I don't wanna be an asshole. I don't care. Really. Whatever they wanna do, if they don't push it on me, I'm cool. No problem." He burped. "I gotta learn a few things, it turns out," and he snickered a couple times, "and nobody's... less of a man if they... uh..."
"The men who wanna be with other men."
"I know. Look, that came out wrong. I was just worried. Before."
"Confused."
He checked his surroundings again. "Well, that other bastard. Sounded like the guys I ride with. But he hung me out to dry, babe. Every freakin' inch of me. Y'know?"
"It's about power, Thor. Not lust. Control is... equivalent of pussy for some bastards."
He nodded. "I think I'm getting that now."
"Well, I'm glad we had this little talk."
That threw him. "Hold on."
"Sounds like you're... better prepared for the next times."
"Well, I dunno wh- next time?"
"Times," she corrected.
That wasn't any better. "Next TIMES?"
"You're about to get real popular."
The buzz was really turning on him, in no time flat. "No."
"Thor. The video - you're a star, buddy."
"Fuck me," he snapped.
She laughed. "Oh, honey. You've only got a few more days of freedom left. I didn't think we'd get through the usual hemming and hawing by then. Really, your video... See, our websites are entirely separate."
Every other word was making sense. "I don't get whatever it is you're talk-"
"You are the hot catch for ticklers right now. Because of the tape. I mean, bro, your calendar's gonna be full..." and then she chuckled.
For a couple seconds there, he felt like keeling over. Down like a bowling pin. "Aw... hell."
"That's one exciting video, boy. It isn't our fault you're so amazing."
Despite the bad news, he had to smirk at that. "Amazing, amusing ol' Thor, that's me."
"That's the spirit."
"So. You gonna grab me? Make it happen?"
There was a pause. "I prefer to... stick it to volunteers."
That threw him. "What did you say?"
"You heard me. If you choose to come out here, before you get grabbed, I sure won't throw you out. There's a fifty-acre lot with about ten cells hidden around the middle of it. Dungeons. All willing participants, Thor. That's how we do it here, anyway. The owner of the place deals with the suits, pays the bills. Everybody wins."
Yup, his good mood was definitely gone. Walk into a freakin' dungeon, or get dragged into one. Did she really mean there was a video of him, laughing his ass off, on the internet? Or was it a trick?
"There's really video?" he said meekly.
A big sigh. "Hold on. I swear, you guys - and especially the top picks, I'll never figure out why that's the way it works out... Here."
Laughter.
He listened for a few seconds. Not getting it. Some guy getting thrashed who sounded like -
Oh, shit, she had the video. Helfa was able to play it for him right away... as if it was already cued right up.
Why was he gettin' wood? Right away...
But Thor didn't dwell on that, 'cause he was hearing himself laugh, and he sounded frickin' psychotic. He closed his eyes and tapped his forehead against the pay phone, trying to match the raging laughter he heard with the exact point in his memory -
"Nooo nooo nooo noooo-whooooAAAAAaaaah hah haah haieeEeeeee!..."
He hung up quickly.
No doubt about it.
The camcorder was aimed right at his face when the gloves all started the same dig-and-wiggle move on his soles, almost like they were dancing together.
It hit him so hard, too. Unbelievable.
Nothing made sense anymore.
Asswipes were watching that tape. Eager to get him. Maybe that was another head-game. He couldn't be all that special. That thought only calmed him for a few seconds, because the first asswipe made sure he knew it was gonna catch him again, and Helfa was up for that too. Twice as many ticklers wanting to dig into him as before, and that wasn't even counting the results of the damn video.
Well, at least he wasn't coming off as gay. He felt kinda bad that he'd worried about that.
No pussy for awhile? That really sucked. Better do something about that now - tonight - before one of the jerks caught up with him. All alone in a dungeon somewhere, too racked to think about gettin' some tail...
Thor looked at the card, wondering if he had the nerve. More alcohol, then.
Just before closing time he called back. Got a machine.
He managed to say his cell-phone number without slurring too badly, and said he was not buying all the video celebrity bullshit but he could be, uh, ready in a day or two for whatever...
He stood in a ridgeline prairie and chain-smoked.
The frickin' stubble around his most ticklish joints was itching, but Thor was damn sure not gonna shave himself. Even if it stopped the itch, but he wasn't about to try it and find out. The next tickler would surely take care of that -
A shiver took him. This, right here, was the stupidest thing he'd ever done - and dammit, that was really saying something.
To distract himself, he looked down at the directions that had been left on top of his jacket last night. When the sun went down, maybe another fifteen minutes or so, he had to be four hundred steps down the path. The near end of the trail came out just past the little group of trees to the south.
He thought he knew where to go. A flashlight was supposed to lead him the rest of the way. Big secret. They'd hide his bike... and this Helfa character wanted him to walk into the snare all on his own.
No doubt he'd be seeing how stupid that decision was, right away. No backing out. Once it was on, Thor figured, she could be every bit as harsh as that son of a bitch who made him famous.
The bottom line, after he got done looking at all the downsides, was that... well, the asswipes dished out the kind of insanity he wanted. When the fingers got all up and down his thighs - whoa. And the back of his neck drove him crazy.
Thor had stuck three fat doobies in his stash pocket, and he really hoped that his next torturer would be able to take a hint.
29feb2008