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Tracy hung up the phone and didn't move for a while. She just sat there, lost in thought, and War recognized that posture.
"Crank call?" he said quietly.
"In a manner of speaking," she sighed.
 

Tikk had been butting in ever since high school.
The first time Warren noticed was sophomore year. He usually walked home from football practice with a couple of older guys, and they'd cut through the alleys so they could smoke without being seen. Probably they weren't anywhere near as sneaky as they thought... but one time the back door of the sleazy adult theater had opened, and closed, just as they were walking by - and War felt somebody watching. Not at eye-level, either. Maybe ten feet above them. It was a strong feeling.
The next few nights, he kept waking up every couple hours. Horny as hell. Jack off again, smoke a cigarette and try to get back to sleep.
After a week or so War noticed that the sheet was always pulled off him. Not kicked off, either. Sometimes he'd roll up in it, on purpose, and still wake up all of a sudden - with at least his feet uncovered.
It was fuckin' annoying. His balls had turned on in earnest about a year before, and he could jack off all day long. That wasn't so bad, though it could be distracting... but he didn't need to wake up with a serious boner a couple times each night.
One of those times, after he took care of business at a pretty furious pace, Warren slumped back down. He caught his breath, covered with sweat, eyes closed - and smelled the cigarette just before he felt it poke between his lips. He took a drag and eased it out gratefully before realizing that he hadn't gotten that smoke out and lit it, himself.
When he opened his eyes, there was a white feather dangling way over him...
 

A three-week tour of Europe. Last time it had been nine days in Japan.
Tikk knew them too well. She was snapping at Warren more and more. A vacation would do the trick... but three weeks. Damn. That was a lot of tickling.

The ticket showed up the next day. Tracy sighed again, looking it over. Tikk had thrown in a prepaid charge card with four thousand dollars on it.
"Guess I'm going shopping," she said. "New clothes."
"Yeah," he nodded. "For the trip."
"You need some shirts... but I guess you won't be wearing 'em for awhile."
He reached over and played with her hair, but she wasn't letting go of her sulky mood.
"Or any clothes at all."
"Trace. I've tried everything I can think of - and everything you've thought of, too. It's just... You know Tikk."
"I know," she said irritably.
 

His last year-and-a-half of high school was full of that urgent sensation waking him up. Hands already pinning him to the bed...
One day he came home and found his room empty. Tikk took hold of his arms and marched him downstairs - to his new bedroom, in the basement. It knew a few ways to lay into him so that he couldn't make much noise at all, but down there Warren could bellow and howl all he wanted. The ceiling was thick enough that his mom never said anything. She was drinking more and more by that time...
Rope, to straps, to that first fuckin' sex swing. Hours, nights - sometimes the whole weekend, suffering and yet soaked with pleasure too. When he stayed away from the dungeon Tikk silently took hold of him, wherever he was, and gave him a minute to say his goodbyes before making him walk to his car.
The tickling went from a couple times a week to every other night. And Tikk really indulged itself the summer before his senior year. To Warren those months were just one long blur.
It didn't want to let him play football, but he was too much of a standout. Instead it had exhausting plans for basketball season. His grades had slipped pretty bad, thanks to you-know-who, so he hardly got out of his room at all that winter. It was stingy with his cigarettes until he studied and did his homework. War didn't really get enough sleep, that last semester, to do as well in soccer as he could have.
The two weeks right after graduation still gave him intense dreams now and then.
Only Phil believed him.
 

She was in a better mood when she came back from the mall. Uh, malls. There must've been a dozen bags, plus the new luggage.
That was pretty much the pattern. Sure, she liked to shop - but what really calmed her down was getting away from him for a couple hours and thinking it through. Tikk had been stealing War away since before she'd known him. It didn't take "no" for an answer... but when she got angry enough, even it listened. Warren kept telling her that was a sign of respect. It never cut him any slack.
Tracy called her mom, and her sisters. As usual. None of them believed that Tikk existed, but since there weren't any fireworks to suggest Warren and Tracy were in trouble her family just pretended she never told them anything weird at all.
War's job was to call Phil and get him to take the dog, check on the house now and then.

"Three weeks," Phil said quietly. "Shit."
"Yeah. Makes me wanna hold up a liquor store."
His friend chuckled through the phone. "Jail? Sure. It'll just jump you as soon as they boot your ass back outside. Same as the other time."
"I can dream."
"That's about all you can do. Man. I don't know how you keep from going stark raving nuts. I would. All that tickling."
War frowned, idly tapping the handset against his forehead. "No," he finally said, "it ain't just that. Three fuckin' weeks, so I bet that means it's got some hairbrained cure it wants to try."
"Not again," Phil shot back.
"Yeah. Again."
"Maybe... if Trace and I both talk to it?"
That made Warren laugh bitterly. "You lookin' forward to that machine, again?"
"No. No, no, no." Phil sounded as if he was shivering.
 

The summer after they graduated, Phil tried to "talk some sense" into Tikk.
It built a tickle-machine for him. Made Warren watch - and laugh along with Phil.
That cabin... Whoa, he hadn't thought about that place in awhile. Spent a lot of time in there.
Phil had gotten really drunk, maybe three years after that, and shot off his mouth. Reading Tikk the riot act.
War didn't see him for, like, four days. Caught in the machine again...
 

Her flight was at one.
Phil came over for breakfast. Hugging Tracy, with that lopsided grin of his...
They'd gone together in high school. As far as Warren knew, they hadn't done the deed since then. Not that he would've blamed her...
About a year after the accident he told her to go ahead, because he knew she had needs. It was a rare day when he could get it up, back then, though at least his dick had pretty much returned to normal now. She'd been so mad at him for suggesting it that she didn't talk to him for, like, five days. But he really wouldn't have held it against either one of them. Phil's wife hadn't dumped him yet, but the writing was on the wall.
Anyway, Phil and Trace always managed to cheer each other up when one of these long-ass sessions was in store. She worried too much. The vacations always made a new woman out of her - smiling more, ready to give Tikk no end of shit, eager to fuck the living daylights out of War. Couldn't argue with that.
It wasn't like he'd exactly be fending for himself, anyway.
Tikk might already be hanging around. It liked to make him wait. Get him all geeked up, and then - bam.

She hated saying goodbye at the airport, so they usually did it at home.
"Let's see," she mumbled. "Tickets, iPod, book, wallet -"
"Hey," he said quietly, holding his arms out.
She finally looked over - and smiled. Setting the bags down, she eased down onto the arm of his wheelchair and hugged him. He liked the excitement running through her. Trip-adrenaline.
"I wish this didn't happen anymore," she whispered.
"So do I, babe."
"It can't wait to get hands all over you. I can feel it here. Dammit, I can relate."
"Awwww..."
Phil pretended to look out the window as they went for a nice, deep kiss.
"Be careful," War said.
"You too. Uh... It better be careful - with you," and she looked over them, making those last few words an order.
"Too careful. I'll nag it to leave my cell phone handy."
"Now that," she announced, looking around the kitchen, "is a good idea. I would feel a lot better if that happened." Trace turned back to him, grinning, and pushed his bangs off his forehead. "Now I guess you want me to hit the road, so Phil can bring out that spliff he's got in his pocket."
"Hey, now," Phil said. Busted.
"Yeah," Warren grinned, holding his arm up so she could use it to get back to her feet.
 

He and Tracy ended up together. They fought it for awhile after Phil pissed her off for the last time... but one night she came to watch him play softball, and he took her out to dinner, and afterward they had the most incredible sex. That was still the memory that usually came right to Warren's mind when he thought about getting laid, or about Tracy.
Within a few months they didn't want to be apart. Getting married didn't sound like such a bad idea, anymore, to War. He avoided telling her as long as he could, but one night he sat her down and said there was a big wrinkle, called Tikk, and if she was set on being with him...
 

"Okay. I gotta get going," Phil said for the fourth or fifth time, absentmindedly petting the dog. Really good pot.
It's probably waiting, War thought, but I don't care. Three weeks to fuck with me. The longer Phil hangs around, the better -
The kitchen door opened.
Warren looked up, wondering if Tracy missed her flight or something.
A big red toolbox floated into the room.
"Uh," Phil finally said.
"Aren't you ever gonna leave?" Tikk grumbled.
The guys looked at each other.
 

She was getting saggy. More wrinkles, too. But he still pictured her the way she was, that perfect night when they were twenty. It didn't matter how old she got, to Warren. Hell, he had a spare tire that refused to go anywhere, even though the rest of his upper body had never looked better. And sometimes he looked in the mirror and swore it was his old man looking back out at him.
Tracy got a raw deal. Twice. Falling for a guy Tikk already said it "owned"... and then the accident. But she stuck by him, and Warren had no idea what would've happened to him if Trace and Phil hadn't been there.
 

"Hey!" Phil yelled. One arm, and then the other, went up. Over his head. He looked worried, alright.
"Tikk," War said threateningly.
"Just gonna hang out, huh, Phil?" Tikk chuckled. "Get in my way?"
"No - now, look, I didn't mean -"
"Bullshit."
Phil gasped... and started to cackle. Twisting this way and that, he couldn't get off the couch. His arms wouldn't budge.
"Ohh hoh hoh hoh hah haaaa-aaaaah," he rasped.
"I got your number," Tikk said sternly.
"Let him go," Warren snapped.
"Keep me waiting, willya?"
Phil threw his head around and crowed.
"Are you gonna take the fuckin' dog, now, and leave us alone?"
"Hah hah yy-yyah yah hah hoo hoo hoo."
"'Cause I could just keep doin' this to ya tonight. You good with that?"
"Nooooo! Noo hoo hoo hoo nnnn-nnnooooo nuh nah hah hah haaaaa-aah..."
"Well... alright."
Phil relaxed, gasping for air. One arm, then the other, dropped down. Immediately, he hugged his sides.
"You don't have to be such a bastard," Warren said.
"Nice to see you, too," Tikk replied, all smug.
"I don't see a thing. Just my best friend getting tortured."
"Oh, please."

"Son of a bitch," Phil sighed - more as an exclamation than an insult.
"You know, it could be War's turn to watch your dogs. Next weekend."
Phil looked around wildly. "C'mon. Please."
"Well..."
"Dammit," Warren said, "leave him alone."
"But I don't want to."
Shakily, Phil got to his feet. "Sorry to, uh, leave you in the middle of this... but I guess if I don't get a move on -"
"Sleep well, Phil." And Tikk laughed, a real rowdy sound. "You're gonna get it. I know where you live."
"Shit. I'm outa here. Okay?" He stuck out his hand to Warren. "Stay tough."
"You know it."
"Call me when you can." Looking around again, he started to smirk. "When it lets you -"
"For fuck's sake," Tikk said. "Go. Or else."
He just slapped his thigh, whistled to call the dog, and headed for the door.
"Later," Warren called after him.
"I swear, he's really asking for it. I'm gonna wipe that smile clean off his face," Tikk said.
"Why do you sound so grumpy? I'm here. And you got three whole weeks."
"Yeah." It snickered in a real sinister way. "Here we are."
The kitchen door opened, and stuff started clanking out in the garage.
 

It was weird, but the traction felt good.
Tikk set up the big chrome cage and strapped him down. Slight tension, on his legs, always did something for Warren - like the end of a dull pain he didn't even know was there.
By the time it got done wrapping him up, any movement was out of the question. That didn't leave nearly as much exposed skin as Tikk would've wanted - War had heard it complain about that, enough times - but it sure knew how to use what was available.
"Ready?" it teased.
"Oh, fuck," he sighed.
Feathers began their dance around his armpits.
 

At first he'd get angry. Tikk loved to tickle that out of him. After the accident he felt kinda plugged up, emotionally. There was no point in staying pissed off. He wanted to, but it had always brought on a couple days of insane fever...
And the fucker had been sorry. He'd never doubted that. It stole a shitload of money, over his objections, and got him set up for life. That was kinda self-serving because Tikk still couldn't stand to hang around him without getting busy. If ten or fifteen minutes went by, War knew he was toast. Hands would start sneaking around his arms...
Twisted as it gets. Tikk was showing all the remorse he could've expected - from an invisible bastard who lived for torturing him like that - but he always ended up howling his guts out anyway. That built up, inside, and he found some real fuckin' rage. That felt so good.
And still he was cuffed down. Well, his arms anyway. The feathers or gloves always came back - hesitant, at first, and then eventually he'd hear that one wicked laugh... All-out tickling. Moved to a safer place where nobody would find out. Same old shit.
It took the better part of a year, but War finally decided that there really was no changing Tikk. The goofball just didn't understand. Hell, it barely took responsibility for paralyzing him. Many nights of conversation, mixed in with the endless tickling, revealed that it just figured some things happened during the hunt, and that was the way it went. That sucked, totally, but he didn't get any relief in staying mad at somebody - uh, something - that just didn't comprehend what it had done wrong. Not even a month out of the hospital, Tikk started barging in to tickle him again.

Shit, he never could get completely into it. Being tickled. It just drove him absolutely nuts. Even after all these years - he tried and tried to enjoy the rush, without holding anything back... Tikk even went at it real slow if he asked, mixing it up, holding itself back. The hunger it had never went away, apparently. And it sure liked 'em. War, and Phil, no telling how many others. Dammit. Even when it was doing all it could to make him dig it, the overload just made him deranged. Not that Tikk was gonna stop or anything...
The son of a bitch was just incredibly good at torturing him.
War came to think about Tikk as if it was a cousin or something. Really strong, and sneaky. He couldn't do anything about his real cousins, and usually they didn't know how to take a hint either. Tikk was like that, only about a hundred times more determined to lock him up and tickle him. Hard. He could just tell that it hated to quit. Even after a long weekend, it was thinking about "next time."
Tracy had come around - once she really believed, through and through, that War didn't want Tikk to drop in and mess with him. Never again. That didn't stop the visits, though. Big ol' friendly greeting, a few questions to see if there was anything he needed... and the damn fingers would start working their way under his shirt. Unbuckling his belt. Sometimes Tikk hauled him off right in front of her.
She'd tried, too, but Tracy hadn't come up with the right thing to make it back off, either. They'd developed an understanding. Then a relationship, almost. Tikk and Tracy. It creeped him out. She helped it pick out fuckin' Christmas presents for him now. And that ambush, year before last, over Memorial Day weekend - that was just brutal. War still thought she had cooperated. Set him up. Like bait, or something. And Tracy was tickling him more than she ever used to, herself.
That seemed paranoid, but really, dammit, there were times when Warren didn't know what was goin' on in his own house.

He could get just as nuts as he wanted. It didn't stop Tikk. And there was no risk of further injury either. It was the only time he could really whale around, with his upper half, and feel safe. So incredibly useless too...
It ravaged him.

Tikk shaved his chest, in no big hurry, while it made him smoke.
The sensation revved up again after that. A hundred times stronger.
Feathers, brushes... delighted fingers.

Hours crawled by.
"Here," Tikk said, bringing a variety of pills.
War was too far gone to say anything. After he swallowed and the water bottle backed off, another cigarette came up.
"Good times," it growled.
"Unh," he grunted.
"And they're gonna get even better, dude."
A little beer cooler floated into the air. It opened, and a clear plastic box emerged.
When a big hypodermic needle was shown to him, Warren started to struggle. "No, Tikk. Don't... You said you weren't gonna take any chances with me."
The needle paused in midair. "War. C'mon. With my main tickle buddy? No chance."
"No experiments. I thought we had an agreement -"
"This is what I've been waiting for," and the syringe bobbed a little. "One hundred percent success rate in the lab."
He froze in the middle of a drag. "No shit?"
"The news will break by the end of the year. They did it, buddy."
"Don't get my hopes up. It's mean."
A glove squeezed his right tricep. "I would never do that to ya. Fuck, I've done enough harm already."
"Aw, Tikk -"
"Every day," it said tensely, "you know what I think about? What I did to you."
"We've been over this," Warren groaned. "What's done is done."
"No, dammit! I cost you. And these incredible fuckin' feet don't react at all when I tickle 'em."
There was a pause. So that's the real reason, he thought dully. But other conversations with Tikk came back to mind. It was fucking with him.
"You're such a fuckin' bastard."
It laughed wildly. "You got me. Well, I do want to nuke these feet again. And I swore to you I was gonna give you back what I stole. Stupid fuckin' rookie mistake -"
"Let it go already," he snapped. "That was years ago. I'm doin' okay."
"And it's about to get a whole lot better."
He started to rotate.

Actually, the whole frame was rolling to his right. Strapped in as he was, he didn't even sag.
"Uh, now wait," he said nervously.
"No. I've made you wait long enough."
"Run this past my doctor first. Dammit."
"They'll say it's too risky."
He made fists and tried to pull at the straps. "Well, that's reassuring."
"But it's not," Tikk said anxiously. A packet of disinfecting swabs was being torn open. "I've been in the lab, and they haven't. This is your ticket out of that wheelchair. I'm gonna smash that fuckin' thing to pieces."
"Give it to somebody else who needs one," he said, looking at the door. Maybe Phil would miraculously show up and let himself in. His timing generally sucked though.
"I'll buy a hundred more," Tikk announced, "when you're back to the way I found you. Hold still."
"Very funny -"
He heard a very quiet crunching sound. That was probably the needle...
"You're injecting me anyway. Aren't you?"
"Don't move, asshole. At least you're not feeling it."
"The one upside to being paralyzed," he said drily.
"Honestly, War, I'm gonna shred your ass. Feather by feather."
"That's the real motive here."
A glove eased the hair out of his eyes. "So fuckin' doomed," Tikk said lovingly. "There."
He started rotating back to the prone position...
There was something happening in his back. A warm throb.
"I feel heat," he reported.
"Right above the fracture, I bet," it shot back. "That's normal. It won't get too intense."
"The sign of massive infection, spreading through my whole spine."
"Dude, I wish you wouldn't joke like that."
He lifted his head. "Aw, is the big, confident tickler getting nervous?"
"Of course I'm nervous! This is a big deal."
"Shark cartilage," he joked. "Or some weird new algae."
"I'm gonna get you," it chuckled. "Oh, man. This is the real deal. You'll see."

The warmth spread a little, and it had Warren worried. But it didn't exactly burn...
"If you really cared about me at all you'd let me call my doctor. Tell her what you shot into me."
"No way."
A new water bottle cracked open.
"When do we know?" Warren said quietly.
"It's already happening," Tikk replied. "The next few days are gonna be... kinda weird."
He had to laugh at that. Any day Tikk came around was seriously weird. That didn't bode well at all.
"Getting sleepy yet?" it asked.
"Uh... calm. Too calm. Considering you're playing mad scientist on my ass. Helpless captive -"
"Cut it out."
"A sadist with a conscience."
"I don't have a conscience," it scoffed. "I just can't wait to drill your fuckin' toes like they've never been tickled."
"Ah," he nodded. "Glad we cleared that up."
Gloves took hold of his collarbones... and started a gentle massage. "Sleep," Tikk crooned. "Dream of running away from me. Or trying to."
"You're real funny," he murmured.
"Not as amusing as you. Fucker."
 

Warren woke up with ants in his back. Little ones.
Tikk had left him in the traction frame... and pulled out the center pad, so his spine wasn't pressing on anything.
"Hey," it greeted him, getting a cigarette out of the pack.
"I don't know about this," he said.
"Too late," the tickler said cheerfully. "Sausage, or ham?"
"What?"
"Breakfast. You goof."

The imaginary insects were on the march. Above the fracture - and below it too, which was really odd.
"I really think I'm feeling something," he reported. "Below."
"That's excellent."
"Can I talk to Phil?"
There was a long pause. "Sorry. Not yet."
"Dammit."
"He's thinking that I'm putting you through your paces. The usual. Give me a couple more days, and then you can check in."
"If I tell him to keep his mouth shut, he'll do it," War grumbled. "He's scared of you."
"I like Phil," it said smugly.

Warren lifted his head. "Oh no, you don't."
"A big ol' celebration, after this is over. My way of thanking him for being such a good friend to ya."
He groaned. "Any way to talk you out of that?"
"Not a chance. He's too ticklish."
"And there's nothing quite like seeing people pay, just for being nice -"
"Like Tracy? She's in London right now. Really suffering."
"I don't know about this feeling," War said, trying to wiggle around. "It's odd."
"That's it," Tikk said. Off to the right, pillbottles moved and opened.
"What now?"
"Painkillers." He watched a rubber glove zoom up and catch two little white tablets as they were tipped out of a plastic jar. "Muscle relaxants. You're gonna barely feel a thing."
"Tikk."
"Take 'em," and the pills were brought over his chest to meet up with a water bottle. "I mean it."

He dozed most of the afternoon.
After dark, it got more intense.

"Oh, fuck, it's itching. Or something. I can't tell -"
"Easy there, buckaroo."

Building up...
Strange - not tingling, not pain. "Itch" was as close as he could label it.
Tears were welling up in his eyes. It was odd, and getting worse, and fuckin' Tikk wouldn't let him call anybody. It kept trying to soothe him, and then - inevitably - oiled fingers touched his armpits.
"Aw hah hah haaah!" he exploded. Already worked up, and now was not the time to get tickled out of his mind. There was something new, and maybe very bad, happening in his spine. If he could get help now, maybe he wouldn't die... but it was probably too late already.
And now the bastard was tickling him. Not very hard, but he was just losing it. The tension.
Its fingers crept and traced. Howling without sound, the tears ran freely down his cheeks.

"You suck," he finally said, when he could catch his breath.
"Well, it distracted you. Didn't it?"
"Fuck off."
"Didn't it?"
Oh hell - four gloves were poised over his gut. He was strapped in so damn tight...
"Alright. Yeah."
"Thank you."
"If you're so grateful, call Tracy. Tell her what you're doing to me."
"My happy camper," it said menacingly. "Laughing the night away."
"Get those fingers away from me!" But he was so scrambled that the shout threatened to turn into belly-laughs. He'd be howling again soon enough.
"All mine. Aren't you?"
The gloves sank down.
"Huh?"
"Nooooo - oh shit, yeah, all yours."
"Still ticklish?"
He did start to cackle then - just before the gloves took hold. Pecs, and belly.
"Gonna go nuts for me?" Tikk said with obvious delight.
"Waaah hah hah haaaah..."
 

There was no way he could say it. Tikk would be only too happy to oblige. But the weird creeping, burning... itching in his back was gonna -
"I can't believe I'm saying this," he mumbled. "Distract me."
"What?"
"Don't make me say it. What you like best."
"Oh, I'm gonna make you say it," Tikk sassed.
"Fucker."
"How's that itch, War? You like it?"
"I hate you." He sighed. "Okay. Tickle me."
"Tickle... me." It sounded amazed. "I never thought I'd hear you say those words."
"This is drivin' me nuts, Tikk. Dig in." He gulped. "Tickle away."
"You want me to tickle you."
"Well, no -"
"Then I could just let you lay here."
"Tickle me. Alright, dammit, I prefer that you tickle me. Get cracking."
Hooting, almost sounding giddy, Tikk brought over a whole bunch of brushes and a bottle of oil.

Fuck. He was just coming unglued!
Tikk dug in, and kept torturing him. When it paused to give him a smoke the sensation in his back made him ask - and then beg - for the tickling to continue. And Tikk was just thrilled.
 

The next morning, the damn itching had spread almost to his shoulder blades...
And down.
"Poke my ass," he ordered.
"Good man," it taunted - but a glove moved underneath him. "Anything?"
"No," he sighed. "Never mind."
"Wait, now. I'm on the lower curve of your ass. Moving. Can you tell me which side?"
War felt depressed. Not only wasn't it gonna work, but Tikk would never let him live down begging for it to tickle him. No getting rid of it -
Pressure.
"Oh, shit!"
"What now?"
"Left side."
"Uh-huh," it said, all excited.
It wasn't much to speak of, but the contact seemed to move across. Then it went away.
"Over to the right... my right. And then down?"
"Yeah!"
He blinked at the ceiling. "You bastard."
"A good two inches below the fracture," it reported. "You're getting sensation back."
"I can't believe this."
"Well," it laughed, "try to wrap your mind around... these!"
Four gloves clamped onto his ribs.
Tugging uselessly, Warren screamed laughter at the celiing.

It was hard to eat. He gobbled the food down because the sensation was so distracting. A longer stripe of crawly, prickly warmth was moving down. Slow, but sure.
"Okay," he grunted. "Skip the cigarette. Nuke me."
"This is a dream come true," Tikk sassed. "Yes sir. I never get tired of this."
The little rotary tools cruised up.
"Good," he said. Serious tickling would do the trick. Warren never thought he'd actually be glad to see those fuckin' things... but as one clicked on, and then the other, he tried to brace himself.

Tikk stuck a cigarette between his lips, and he was too damn tired to resist.
"More," he croaked.
"I like you this way. Definitely."
"Just skip the taunts and get to it. Tickle me already."
"You're worn out."
"No, I'm not," he said defensively. "I can take more."
"It's that unbearable?"
He nodded, and then thought it over. Tikk's got me begging for it... But his ass-cheeks were definitely waking up. His thigh had twitched once, and the tickler had sounded just as excited as he was when he told it.
If he laid there and thought about the itching, Warren was gonna really go nuts.
"Can't you just knock me out? Sleep through it all?"
"No." Tikk laughed nervously. "This is perfect. I can't help how well this worked out - for me - getting ordered to keep on tickling. But I absolutely mean it, Warren. You can't be drugged too deeply. If something goes wrong I need to know, and I'll get an ambulance here in a hot second."
"You..." He gave up, nodding wearily. Of course it wouldn't miss a chance to dig in. If he was sleeping all day, how could Tikk have its fun?
"I'm telling the truth for once."
"Okay." What the hell, he thought. One of the doctors had said something like that, back when the fracture happened and it hurt all the time. Tikk actually did sound sincere - and it didn't have to. He was fucked in any case.

A feather started teasing his balls...
"Ummmmm," he sighed.
"Is this distracting enough?"
"It's gonna be, in a few minutes."
"Damn right," Tikk drawled.
 

The next morning, he could definitely feel the pads under his hips.
"This is so fuckin' great," he babbled. "You did it."
"Not yet, I didn't," it replied, stabbing a forkful of eggs. "I want those fuckin' soles back. All mine."
"Tracy might have something to say about that."
"Joint custody, then," Tikk grumbled. "But when I catch your ass... look out."

It dug in, turning up the heat all afternoon - at War's insistence.
"Did you know?" he asked during a break, kicking out smoke.
"Did I know what?"
"It itches. I bet you knew I'd end up ordering you to tickle -"
"Noooo," it said immediately, sounding almost worried. "No no, War, I had no idea. This is just icing on the cake. I'm serious."
"Just get busy," he grumbled.
"O-kay," Tikk replied, after a pause. "Doing what?"
War grit his teeth. "Tickle away. Make it count."
"Tickle you?" it said innocently.
"Yeah."
"You want me to tickle you."
"C"mon!" he yelled. "It itches. I can't stand it."
"Knowing, of course, that dinner's a good two hours off," Tikk giggled. "Long, solid hours. Unbearable tickling. Here, there and everywhere. And it'll be hours after that before you crash, War. So damn much tickling you're gonna wish you could pass out. Tailored to you. Continuous. More fun than you can possibly stand."
There was another pause. He gulped. "Yeah."
Hooting, Tikk made six satin gloves spring to life.
 

"Hey," it said again, almost yelling.
"Unnnh..."
"Phil keeps calling."
That took a few seconds to sink in. Oh, good. Phil. Somebody knew about the torture -
"Every time he does," Tikk said, "I add another day of tickling to his tab. And he knows it, but he's called five times anyway."
"Phil," War finally managed to say, opening his mouth for a cigarette. He was so wrecked. Only a couple of hours into the day, too.
"I think he's getting uppity."
"Tikk," he groaned, taking a light.
"Right here. Oh, Tikk, all this tickling is driving me fuckin' crazy. You gotta back off. At least downshift once in a while -"
"Yeah, yeah. What did you tell him?"
"Nothing. You're still howling. Like he will be, soon enough. That's about it."
"Be a pal," he said ironically. "Let me talk to him."
"A pal, huh? I'm not your pal, dickhead. I'm your tickler." It chuckled happily.
"No question about it. Just bring me the phone." He looked over at the clock - 8:44. "Hey. You woke me up today - when, before seven?"
"Lots of tickling," it said.
"You're drivin' me... Just call Phil."
"Is he usually up this early, on a Sunday?"
War froze. It was only Sunday? Was Tikk kidding? Oh, fuck, the days were so long. "Well, no."
"So," and it took his smoke away, "it'll be hours before he's together enough to, y'know, carry on a conversation."
"Oh, shit -"
"Now what are we gonna do for, heh, four or five hours? Huh?"
A bunch of brushes descended onto his belly.

It was closer to three in the fuckin' afternoon before Tikk finally brought the phone over.
"Listen. You let on that anything out of the ordinary is going on... and I'll work him over for a month of Sundays."
"Alright already."
"One full month. I'm not kidding, War. Don't ruin the surprise. He's already in for it - and if you fuck up, he'll hoot for a whole lot longer. Period. Maybe I'll work it off in one continuous session."
"Leave him alone."
"You heard me." Buttons on the phone started getting pushed.
"Fucker," he growled, listening to the rings.
"Hello."
"Phil."
"Hey!" Phil said happily. "You're still alive."
"Barely."
"With a gun to your head, I bet."
"And ten gloves," he shot back. "All itchin' to get back to it." Tikk chuckled at that one.
"Uh-huh."
"Dog okay?"
"Your dog's fine. How are your armpits?"
"Shit. Don't even go there."
He laughed. "Need anything?"
"The National Guard," he sighed. "Lots of 'em. No ticklish guys, though."
"Fat chance."
A glove floated up and pointed at the phone, pretending to shoot it. Confident fingers, alright -
"Well, I'm getting the signal," War said sadly.
"Don't laugh too hard."
"You better watch your step, Phil. It's... in a mood."
"Fuck," his friend said. "Like there's anything I can do about it."
"Tell me something I don't know. Okay, just don't call anymore. Digging your hole deeper."
"Yeah," Phil admitted. "Just get it to, y'know, let you check in sometime."
"Deal. Thanks."
"Enjoy yourself," Phil teased.
"Fuck off," War joked automatically. He nodded -
The phone was hung up and taken away.
Greasy rubber gloves started taking hold of him. Six, eight... sure enough, there were ten. He frowned.
"I wasn't asking for ten g-"
"Aaaal-lll itchin' to get back to it," Tikk said firmly.
They started to knead, and immediately he was shrieking laughter at the ceiling.
 

Tikk woke him up from a doze.
"Wanna call Tracy?"
"Duh."
"But you gotta keep it a surprise. Or else, what's gonna happen?"
"Phil."
"Two months. Happy, suffering Phil. Well, fuckhead, War could've avoided this if he'd kept his big mouth shut. But he didn't. So you're in for it -"
"Okay, okay."
That time, a rubber glove punched the buttons on the phone...
 
 
 

He got back from taking a leak and plopped back down on the couch. After a slug of beer, he set the bottle back down -
Something soft and quick made his right foot twitch.
War didn't really notice until the next time it happened. Maybe it was an ant? He lifted his leg to bring the foot around where he could see the sole. Nothing. So he laid his leg back down, crossed on top of his left.
A hand locked around his ankle.
More pressure - just like a finger running all the way down his sole.
"Shiii-iit!" he squawked. It had been, what, eight or nine months since the last time it had him in traction... and he knew better than to hope it was gone for good, but still, dammit, he didn't wanna get tickled today. All night, too, if Tikk had its way -
"Look at that," Tikk said proudly. "All those muscles on the move. Fighting me."
"Let go."
"Fat chance, dude."
A black bag - hell, it was one of those old-time doctor's satchels, like in the movies - floated in from the kitchen.
He tried to sit up, but a pair of hands were ready. They took hold of his biceps and pushed him back down. And then, just as he dreaded, more grips took hold of his legs - and lifted his feet up a few inches.
"Yeah," it barked. "Mine, mine, mine."
Tikk slammed his legs down against the cushions.
The bag set down on the floor and opened. First thing out was a pointy red feather, wicked-looking, just full of pleasurable misery...
The remote floated up from alongside him, and Tikk turned the TV off.

"She's coming back any time now," Wes complained, squirming around.
A pack of cigarettes drifted out of the bag.
"Nah, I don't think so," it said confidently.
Dammit, Tikk must've been listening to them. Watching. Phil, he thought desperately - but he was out of town. And Tracy wasn't gonna be back until late -
The feather came up and started skipping all over both of his feet.

He could cackle, and arch, but the hands were all settled in. More of 'em pinched his insteps, so he couldn't pedal or anything. Shit, he wanted to pull his feet away from that feather more than anything -
A roll of two-inch surgical tape was next out of the satchel.
"No, Tikk," he managed to choke out between laughs. "Forget it."
His legs were lifted just enough. Round and round went the tape...
Roaring with laughter - and anger - he watched his arms move over his head. Still propped up on the pillows, trying to move somehow, he felt the tape catch both wrists and wrap at least a dozen times. Tikk bent his elbows -
Tension pulled his hands down, well behind his head.
When some of the fingers let go, he tugged as hard as he could. His arms stayed out of the way.
Returning to his ankles, the tape fed out several loops between the ankle-tie and what must've been the leg of the sofa. Its hands started letting go of his legs.
"Let's see what ya got," it teased.
The damn tape had him stretched out - on his own couch - and the position of his limbs didn't even hurt. The fucker had probably been staring at him, deciding on a quick, efficient way to keep him down here. All afternoon. Well into the night...
Almost the whole roll of tape had been used up. A six-inch piece was all that remained, and it was stuck to the pillow alongside his head - clearly a gag for him.
Pulling hard, he didn't get anywhere.
"That's... good tape."
"I know!" it said happily. The pack of cigarettes was opened, and one headed out.
"Tikk," he squirmed, "uh, she don't let me smoke in the house."
There was a low sigh -
A pair of shiny white gloves were brought out of the bag. First of many in there, he thought frantically, snapping at the makeshift restraints.
Over his face, the gloves went through the mocking ritual of being pulled over unseen hands. "Where do you guys keep the ashtrays?"
"I mean it -"
Sure enough, that last piece of tape was pulled up and slapped over his mouth.
The gloves looked mean and eager as they dug in.

War could thrash all he wanted, and laugh just as loud as he could. Tikk's hands kept on drilling him anyway. It knew better than anyone, even Tracy, where and how to tickle...
Five maddeningly long minutes turned into ten.

When the tape was yanked off, it didn't hurt. Somehow even that pissed War off. The fucker didn't miss a trick, ever. All that experience. He took advantage of the break to catch his breath for a minute. Then he took stock...
His t-shirt had been pulled over his head and up to his trapped hands. Shorts and underwear were down around his ankles. A towel had been shoved under his ass. He decided it was there in case he had an accident - no, when his bowels let go. Not if. Dammit. War had just wanted to lay around and watch baseball -
A glove floated up to his face, carrying a cigarette.
"Where," it said threateningly, "are the ashtrays?"
"Under... the sink. Left side, bot-"
One of them cruised up. Already there. It appeared too quickly - Tikk had already fetched it. They were sitting in the same place as all the other times, for that matter. It knew where they were. Hell, it just wanted an excuse to nuke him.
"You're a real piece of work," War sighed, taking the smoke.
"So helpless. I like you this way," it gloated. "Trying to laugh harder so the tape will pop off."
War didn't know what to say to that, so he just sucked in when his lighter came up. Tikk had given it to him, and usually it stayed in the door-pouch of his truck. The fucker must've refilled it with fluid, just for the occasion...

"That's enthusiasm," it continued. "My man War. He's got it bad."
"Just another lazy day, howling my guts out."
"You know it." One of the gloves took hold of his chin. "Lookin' better than ever. Did you run today?"
"No," he admitted, getting fidgety.
"Hmmmm. Yesterday?"
"Yeah."
"How long?"
"Three miles."
The fingers tightened on his jaw. "I told you. Ten miles a week. Every week."
"I ran five miles on Wednesday," War said defensively. "And three on Monday. So back off."
He heard indulgent chuckles, and the glove released him. It ambled on down... to his cock.
Shit, he thought, not on my fuckin' couch. But the fingers curled around his shaft. "How's Tracy? Keeping her happy?"
War sighed and relaxed. The humiliating future was a foregone conclusion, and he'd end up whooping and shooting his load right here - to the delight of his captor. "Yeah."
The glove slowly started to pump.
"Look," he said angrily, "This is just sick -"
The feather was hovering again. Teasingly, it traveled to his bound feet.
"Let me see some restless legs," Tikk ordered. "Curling toes. Flushed skin, sweat, pre-cum. The whole deal. And don't you drop that fuckin' cigarette, War. I say you've earned a few."
Two more packs slid out of the bag.
"You son of a b-bitch," he croaked.

At one point a big tumbler of water was brought to him, and invisible hands pulled him upright long enough to drink it. Then a new cigarette was stuck in his mouth...
The longer Tikk played with his cock and balls, the more he felt the work of the feather. Sharper, and yet sweeter too. A half-hour seemed like a full day, but he knew better. Long experience in its hands told him he was gonna get wound up a lot more.
The next half-hour was so much worse. And better, dammit, there was no way he could pretend it was total torture.

Hooting like a fool, he looked down and saw a second feather.
They were moving briskly now, covering his insteps as well as his soles, tracing those fuckin' points along the sides of each foot - and the heels, oh damn. Oh, wow. Sometimes they worked their way between his toes and that was breathtaking all over again. Meanwhile, the fingers teased his cock-head and his asshole, barely dragging along the joint of each thigh, scratching gently under his scrotum.
It was making him crazy. Now, Tikk had taught him several levels of insanity, and this one just threw open the floodgates so that every spot on his fuckin' body amplified the tickling. He'd been begging monotonously, but even that was beyond him now. It had him right where it wanted him - and hours to go, filled with increasingly unbearable stimulation...

War needed to cum more than anything - but his cigarette was taken away, and a new pair of gloves started on his armpits.
The first few screams of laughter were so ragged that the tape was pressed over his mouth again.
Blown away, buried and lost in a world of crippling, exciting fire, his writhing finally died down. But Tikk didn't ease off.

He smelled beef.
Oh, hell, it had been days. That's what he would've told anybody. A week of solid tickling. But the sun had just gone down, apparently.
A fork tapped on plastic. War opened his eyes, blinking - and saw a frozen dinner, all nuked and ready for him.
"Thuh... Is that one of the green ones?"
"What?," Tikk said, sounding amused.
"Green... box."
"Yeah."
"Those are Tracy's. She's g-gonna yell -"
Another dinner hovered up behind the first one.
"You're gonna need your strength," it promised. "And she's not gonna be home for a while."
"Damn you." He'd been hoping to see her frowning down at him any minute now. Tikk had arranged this - how long was it gonna be this time?
"If you weren't so good to each other," Tikk sighed, "I'd 'encourage' you to divorce her. Move to a cabin I know, waaaay out in the woods."
"Custom furniture," he grumbled.
"Fuck, yeah. But she tickles you sometimes, so I guess -"
"Are you behind that? She's doing that more and more."
It laughed like it didn't have a care in the world. "You're so damn cute when she squeezes your sides. Both of you." The fork brought a hunk of meat right to his lips. "Now eat up."

Afterward, it brought him a beer.
"I gotta feed the dog," he said dully.
"Already taken care of," Tikk fired back, taking his cigarette away so he could drink. "Yeah. What a dude. Don't you worry about a thing. Nuthin' but fun when I'm around."
"She's gonna kill me."
"Like you had a choice?"
He took a drag. "Won't matter."
"Aaaaw. You don't look happy."
That perked him up. "Tikk, dammit, just... Aw, hell."
It laughed for a few seconds. "Can you blame me? Let's see it again."
An invisible finger ran up his left foot.
"Hey," he said hopelessly.
"And now the other -"
Right foot. His leg twitched. It seemed like a good time to try kicking again.
"Very nice. Your muscle tone is back. Ready for some intensive tickling."
"And I owe it all to you," he said sarcastically.

The gloves froze. "Uh, War."
"I know. Forget it."
"I really am sorry."
He closed his eyes, fighting the urge to make a disgusted noise. "Can't say as I like the way you show it."
"What - this?"
Immediately, it curled the gloves around his ribs - laying 'em down on the most ticklish spots, with exactly the right amount of pressure.
"No hooo hooo hooo hoooo-ooooo," he chortled, pressing his back down into the sofa.
"Aw, I'm not even tickling you."
He squealed helplessly, focused on not dropping the cigarette on his chest. Slowly, wonderfully, the gloves pulled off.
"But I will," Tikk promised.
"No shit?" he snapped. "Really."
"Oh, buddy. You're gonna laugh your guts out tonight. Maybe literally - I'd sorta like to see that. Just a little glimpse of your innards -"
"So fuckin' sick."
"Then maybe I'd lose the urge to rock your world."
"I doubt it," he said, wistfully pulling at the tape which kept his arms extended.

Finally a cigarette was plucked from his lips - and no replacement came.
"C'mon," he protested, squirming all over again.
One of Tracy's best hand-towels flew up and wiped his face off. "It's time," Tikk chuckled, "for..."
Something was rustling in the bag. Flailing uselessly, he squinted in the darkness - and saw brushes coming. And a tube. Some kind of lube to make the tickling slippery, deeper, so fuckin' unbearable.
"A scrub-down," the tickler said smugly. "Every inch. Oiled up, awake -"
"Please, please, no," he croaked. "No more."
"Prepped for expert fingers," Tikk promised.
Naturally, the greasy bristles started on his right heel.

War laughed so hard that his voice was reduced to a raspy squeak.
"On to your shins," Tikk announced.

He was buried in impulses he hadn't even begun to deal with yet - and still right there too, tracking every brush, way too aware of each mindblowing stroke. Most of the brushes were spread out over his belly, and every breath was a challenge...
One stayed on his meat, relentlessly tender.

The hours crawled by, and War couldn't even begin to zone out. The tickling always made him take notice, alright -
As the brushes teased his face, firm hands started on his soles. Slick rubber.
Arching and howling just didn't do it for him anymore. The fuckin' flood of crazy pleasure consumed every bit of awareness he had left.
 

A clinking sound roused him.
Confused, War tugged on the cigarette that had just been lit. Where was he?
"Oh no," he whispered as the answer came to him. It was the bedroom...
Tikk had stretched him out. Leather pulled tight, foiling every effort to move. How many nights had he spent cuffed down just like this?
"Tikk - no. Aw, shit."
"You're irresistible. I kid you not. And begging, as if maybe you're not in for the ride of your life now -"
"Tracy," he sighed.
"She's just fine," Tikk said. "Staying in Harrisburg tonight."
"Noooooo..."
"I booked her a real nice room," it reported proudly. "Tucked a thousand bucks in her purse. With a nice note from you, of course."
He smoked, wishing he was anywhere else -
Something stung him. Left arm.
"Hey," he snapped, watching the syringe pull out.
"Alright, you got me. Truth is I had a little talk with her earlier on Wednesday. War's due for a long, hot week with me... but I'll take it in pieces, spread way out, if you'll go and do some shopping on Saturday. And Sunday, too. But you can't tell him I'm gonna make him have a little fun. Not this time... Well, she didn't sound eager. But we all know how persuasive I can be."
War closed his eyes. A surge of energy was rolling through him. The bastard had shot him up with speed, and now it was gonna pull out all the stops. Tonight, tomorrow -
Just like old times.
He tugged hard on the restraints, feeling like he was seventeen again.
"You're going nowhere," Tikk taunted. "And I just love the sight of those legs of yours. Moving around."
There was a pause, so he finally said, "What are you babbling about now?"

A pleased sigh - right over his head - got him looking straight up. Four gloves cruised together, wiggling their fingers. "I remember an all-state soccer player who liked to sneak a cigarette whenever nobody was looking. And he could kick like a damn mule. Then I fucked up. Oh, sure, his torso was still lots of fun. Serious fun. And his meat. But I had to make it right, War. Undo the damage."
"And you did," he sighed, easing back into the mattress. There was nothing else to do. Wide awake again, in for a hard night... So he helped himself to a monster drag.
"Strong, healthy, and ticklish. Just as responsive as you used to be - all over. Staked out real nice."
"Yeah, you're welcome," he sassed. The whole situation, even with the extended meltdown about to start up all over him, was just too bizarre to deal with. Already the stimulant was promising a vivid nightmare of amplified sensation -
"No," Tikk shot back, snickering, "you're welcome. Smartass."
The unmistakable texture of feathers started brushing across his soles -
And all those gloves started dropping. Oh, shit. The feathers were just impossible. He wanted to scream. And now, all these hands too? Too damn much to take. He could scream laughter, long and loud, but the level of current from all the tickling wouldn't change at all.
Tikk was loving this, alright.
His smoke was taken away...
And he barely had time to flop around, which accomplished absolutely nothing, before the fingers landed on his sweaty ribs.

15nov2005