"Far too much anger," the voice said. Real calm.
That pissed me off even more. "Get these fuckin' cuffs off me."
Hands appeared -
Well... not hands. I stared at two shiny gloves. Plump and firm. Nothing inside.
They turned in the air, so the fingers were... pointing down.
"We came across your hide just in time."
"Look," I said, right to the gloves, "I didn't mean to cut you off. I was boxed in by those assholes -"
"Consider this an intervention. You're far too serious."
The gloves went down and unbuttoned my shirt.
"Hey! Get off... me..."
"Struggling against your bonds is wasted effort. Symbolic."
They pulled my shirt open - and laid on my ribs.
"No," I said, real quiet all of a sudden. "You can't be serious."
"Nerves and vessels, bone and tissue. Out of sync, due to the chronic overactivity of the adrenal gland. We'll focus them. Tune them... to bring about a unified response." There was a awful pause. "This will require getting their attention first."
They started - tickling me!
"Nooooooo!" I managed... and then it was all roaring and whooping, from then on out.
They... kept tickling. Covering more ground, pressing harder. Squeezing.
I wrestled around like a madman - because I was one. Immediately. And the more they rubbed, the more unhinged I became. And fuck - the way they rubbed...
In bed, I can get into a nice, slow massage. Before, or after. But this wasn't that kind of rubbing. They got me all whipped up... and they ran all over.
For a long time, they just went at it.
"Hold still," the voice said, loud enough to get me to react. "You're in heavy restraints, on purpose."
"Please -"
They started back in.
I couldn't do a fuckin' thing except stay put. Under the gloves.
And they took advantage of that.
At least a half-hour.
One of them brought me a water bottle. I fought to drink while panting for breath...
"Chaos is trying to take over. Neutralize the effectiveness of aligning your body systems."
"Please," I gasped, "No more, please -"
"You're desperate to find a frame of reference. Your rational mind is being taught. That's why your body is held down."
"No -"
The fingers returned, smoothly, steadily... to my armpits.
Then they kicked it in.
Stop, stop, stop. I must have thought it a thousand times. And I roared. Talking was out of the question.
The fingers explored all over, and under. Returned to the center of my pits and sped up again. Racing.
I howled and slammed around and couldn't keep my head still. And I couldn't stop 'em.
They kept going.
It stayed bad. No getting used to it. At least, I couldn't.
Sometimes I'd get a little fuzzy. And they'd slow down, tickle more lightly, start traveling around again. And I'd manage to get more air, and laugh harder.
About the fifth time they did that, I figured I was not going to get to pass out.
They double-timed it again.
I screamed laughter.
"We're going to expand the area of coverage."
"No!" I yelled. Voice cracking already. Squirming around, as if it was gonna do me any good.
The fingertips landed again. Soft, slippery, unyielding.
My gut.
Aw, not my gut. I tense up and start roaring again.
They mess with my belly-button. A lot. Crawling and stroking and rubbing all around it. Under my pecs...
Right down to my jeans.
Rubbing, rubbing, rubbing.
And eventually they shifted. Higher. Pecs, nipples. Frighteningly close to my armpits - please don't, no, don't get in my pits again. But all I could do was think it, 'cause I had to laugh so fucking hard.
Too tired, or distracted, to pull at the cuffs. Too something.
They just... kept... tickling.
I got more water. It seemed like a whole day had gone by. A day of tickling.
"Please let me go," I whispered.
"We now turn to the most neglected area of all. Subjected to enormous physical stresses in the course of an average day, they will require the most tuning."
And I froze, when I saw a second pair of gloves... cruise down to my shoes.
They untied my laces. I was so horrified I couldn't get my body to move. "No no no no," finally came out. Whispering it rapidly, shaking my head as much as I could.
They pulled my shoes off. I snapped as hard as I could, trying to get even a little slack in the straps.
Peeling my socks off. "You can't, you just ca-"
They slid right onto the center of my soles and started rubbing.
I squealed. And squealed, and squealed.
The gloves laid in more heavily, and increased their speed.
An unbelievable increase in sensation made me howl at the ceiling.
Nothing I tried would work. I was staying down on the pad. My feet were stuck. Stuck!
The fingers blazed down my heels, up to my toes, between 'em, down the outer sides, up the inner sides.
I couldn't stop 'em.
I growled laughs with all I had. I hooted like I was shitfaced. I couldn't stop.
I couldn't get my feet away.
They kept tickling. Hard. Harder.
It was more than I could keep up with, by laughing.
Once in a while I'd try to flail around again. By my feet didn't budge. They stayed there, tickling, tickling, and I couldn't shift out from under 'em at all.
I tried ignoring it. Adjusting to it. Hyperventilating.
There was nothing I could do instead. Couldn't persist at anything. Not even squirming.
The tickling continued.
There must have been another break for water. I was replaying the tickling, I think. In my head. I didn't even notice they'd stopped. Long enough for my breathing to get back to normal.
And then there were four gloves. Full-bore. Nothing gentle about 'em.
Tickling.
There were always enough fingers to rub between my toes. I bucked for a long time, roaring without a voice.
The sides, and the balls of my ankles, my heels. I wanted to scream laughs over and over. So I did...
They just kept on tickling.
Hours and hours of it.
Resting up, and eating sometimes. More water.
And they'd touch down again, and race.
I fought, when I could. Having already fought with everything I had, which got me fuckin' nowhere, I couldn't keep it up.
The fingers moved around now. Constantly shocking me by landing again somewhere. Ribs, heels, pits, neck, gut, toes, pecs, soles, nipples. Round and round and round. The tickling continued, and I was stuck there for the gloves to tickle some more, and they did. They always did. It didn't get any easier.
At some point I opened my eyes, and looked around at all the padding.
No gloves on me.
None in sight.
There was a vibration I didn't remember before.
Eventually I figured it out. Movement.
The van was rolling. Being driven somewhere.
I was being taken... somewhere. A secret place to strap me down and continue the tickling.
I tried to yell, but it just sounded like loud breathing. Tried hard to bust loose...
But I couldn't.
More tickling. Some place to hide a guy and tickle the fuck out of him.
They were taking me there now. I couldn't stop 'em. I had to get away from 'em, or else they'd tickle me - who knew how much? I didn't. I couldn't even guess.
The van rolled on. The straps were too much for me. I kept trying, though.
I couldn't believe the tickling was going to resume. But that was the obvious conclusion. That's why they were kidnapping me - to keep tickling. As thorough as I could take.
That scared the shit out of me. But I was headed for it, whether it was scary or not.
More tickling, like that.
Maybe a lot more tickling. I had to get out of there...
But I couldn't get out of there.
More...
hard...
tickling.
09oct2001