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Tutoring was Tim's way of giving back. Shawn was a real pain in the ass, though.
The younger guy wasn't even trying. Fighting to keep from cussing, Tim sighs and closes his books. Packs up.
He didn't notice Shawn get up and hurry back - with a derm. The kid offered to shake hands, which was not his usual thing. As they did, he pressed his palm against the side of Tim's neck. Squish. By the time Tim pulled away and got the derm off, he was wobbly.
Shawn grabbed rope and jumped on him.
No matter how he tried to resist, Tim was soon spread-eagled on a dirty bed. Shawn was sending a text, smiling real big.
"Whafuck..." Tim slurs.
"Well, Mister Tutor, you need to be taken down a peg or two. Or ten," Shawn laughed. "We're gonna humble you."
"Uh - halllllpp!"
"Nobody's gonna hear you. Empty apartments up, that way, over there, and under us. Yell all you want."
That "command" seemed like proof enough. Well, shit.

Motion, to his left, made Tim blink and squint. Still woozy, but he saw another derm - floating over to Shawn! It smooshed against the side of his neck. Huh.
Though he fought, it looked as if there were several hands immobilizing Shawn... until he konked out. They lowered him to the ground.
"One down," a guy sassed. Cheerful, shady character. Invisible?
"Lemme go," Tim said.
"I will." But nothing happened to the rope holding him down. "You look like a good cat," the unseen dude drawled. "I'm gonna call you Fixer."
"Look - help me get outa here."
"Real soon. You know why Shawn called for help?"
"Are you the help?"
"No, no. Heh. Another guy's on his way here."
"Shit."
"I'll get him, too. No worries. They had some plans - whoa, hold on, not real bad stuff. Some light pain for you. But I'll bet you don't know what the main event is."
"Was."
Shady laughter. "Guess."
He looked around. "No idea."
"You got kids? A job?"
"No. Uh, I'm not... married. Inherited some money." Shut up, he thought, still zoned-out.
"Better yet. I mean, heh heh, it would've been bad if they'd messed with you all night, and somebody had been waiting for a ride. Dinner."
"Yeah," he said, and shook his head. Stop helping the phantom. Toughen up -
With more mysterious chuckling, a phone floated in front of Tim's face. A messaging app was on the screen...
 

 
He read that text again. Shawn had apparently sent it...
Then Tim gulped. "Good thing you stepped in."
"Yeeee-ah."
"Were you here already?"
"I saw that text. Whoops, hold on, I gotta snag Deeno."
Another derm flew to the door, which opened just enough to let the pad out...

Laughter - from the door, and coming closer.
"Two down," the phantom said proudly.
Shawn was picked up somehow. Invisible hands. The door opened.
"Sit tight." Big laughter.

After a few minutes, a gym-bag floated into the room. It landed to the right of the bed... and the door magically closed.
"And then there's Tim," the voice gloated.
"They were gonna tickle me?"
From right in front of him came a contemptuous snort. "Not really." There was a pause. "Because..." That last word was a tease.
"C'mon. Because what?"
Victorious giggles. "Because they can't tickle you right. Not even close. Short, lightweight bullshit."
He pulled at the rope.
"Now why I would I think that? Huh?"
Tim heaved a ragged sigh. "You're a pro."
"I saved you from fuckin' amateurs."
"Let me go. I was here to tutor Shawn. For free!"
The gym bag was pulled open. A big, rolled-up strap floated out. It was shaken apart. Four, five, six straps.
"This is an amazing shithole," his keeper said. It sounded like it was really impressed. "No one gets close enough... to hear you rrrr-a-w-r. I got a couple gags -"
"You gotta be kidding."
Easy chuckling - and he saw the straps fly up.
His wrists, ankles and upper arms were pinned within seconds.

"Well, now, let's kill some time... until the sun goes down," the phantom teased. "It'll be a lot easier to carry an unconscious man out to his car in the dark."
"Why do you want..." but then he shook his head, because it was rather obvious.
"Aaaa-and yeah, you figured that one out. I think you're worth the full ride. A great dungeon is waiting for us."
"No way," he snarled.
"A room's open. I like it. Just the place for... a guy who's real fuckin' ticklish, and doesn't have anywhere to be. Huh? Fixer's rich, he lives alone, and -"
"I'm engaged, dammit."
"You can't lie worth a damn." The gym-bag came closer.
"My aunts depend on me. They live with me!"
"Another lie. We'll get your money sent wherever you want it to go - just as if you were a free man." It made a low, thoughtful growl. "If you actually have anybody counting on you to show up tonight, next week, before fall gets here - I will stuff a million bucks in your car. For real."
He acted as angry as he could... until his eyes scanned the room.

"Dude. You're a terrible liar," the phantom chuckled.
"I've always been told that, by the real people."
"Well, they're right. I have to check now, because you're such an asshole, so if your house or your phone -"
"Condo," he said vacantly.
"Your condo, then. And your car. If anything confirms your story... a million bucks, tonight, from me to you." It waited him out.
"Dammit, I'm still high. Shawn's stupid takedown-drug."
"Well -"
"Talking to nothing, some magic t-tickler, and I oughta be at Revi's. My booth."
"The nightclub?"
He nodded. "Not tied down here."
"You won't be tied down here after it gets dark."
"But my aunts..." And he couldn't help but crack up.
"Two-and-a-half down," the voice leered, laughing along.

"Oooooh. Dammit, why can't I fuckin' lie when I need to?"
"Why are you a tutor? For free? Rich kid, helping out. Hmmmm."
He looked at the ceiling. "Stop."
"Gonna get to know you." The bag opened further - and black things were pulled out of it.
"No," he whispered.
The shapes separated, and got thicker. Full of muscle, it looked like.
Eight shiny gloves.
"Dark ain't here yet," the voice leered. "and I got you right the way I want you."
Tim looked at the door, at the half-boarded-up window, all around. He worked at pulling the ropes loose...
Animated fingers wiggled slowly.
"You're really gonna do it," he said to the nearest glove.
"Yup. This ain't even a decent warmup, Fixer. Your shoes are already off."
He opened his mouth, and thought hard. Before Shawn pulled the ropes tight, the second time, he'd been poking and pawing...
"No, no, no."
The gloves came closer.

"Wait! Uh... I gotta know!" he yelled.
The big gloves paused. Satin? Oh, hell. "Know what?"
Tim's mind raced. "You... uh, just gimme a second, oh fuck. Ah. You weren't here, Shawn sent that damn message, and you zoom in? Before he gets busy?"
Easy laughter. "You remember Deeno?"
"Never met him."
"Associates of mine picked up Deeno and Shawn just now. They're gonna have almost as much fun as you will. What's the phrase... poetic justice? I never saw Shawn before today. But we keep a pretty close eye on what Deeno's up to. He has a real thing for tickling guys. Volunteers, when he can find 'em," and it snorted. "Addicts, skinny dudes. Walking in here and seeing you tied down...-"
"C'mon now -"
"If he had a brain, he'd drag you someplace nice and private before the sun came up. Longer fun-times that way."
"Ew."
"You oughta be glad he didn't invite a few other guys to help tickle the shit out of you."
"But I'm still fucked, here."
"Not so," It snorted quietly, as if to itself. "Well, alright, more fucked. And less. Let's check it out."
"No. Look. No thanks. I d-"
"Get a clue. Unlike the boys who were gonna make your night so wild... I don't sleep, Fixer. Been at this a loooo-oong time. My play-pals need food and water. Sleep. Moisturizers for their skin. Their ass wiped properly - because there will be no distractions. Every morning, you'll be set for more. Reee-ee-eeal tickling. For you."
"Oh shit," he whined.
A glove pulled his shirt open, making a couple of buttons fly. It spread out on the center of his chest.
He tensed up, shaking his head, as three more gloves dove down and settled around his ribs.

"Naaaaaaahhh-haaah-hah-haaaaahheeeee!" Tim roared.
His head was cocked back, and his whole body was stiff. The most important thing he could do right then was let the phantom know how impossibly deep the sensation was throbbing.

Even more gloves had been put to use. He couldn't begin to track them all. Pits, ribs, neck, belly, hips, knees.

Panting for air.
A bottle was above him. It was hard to see - the sun was going down, alright, and he'd cried because the power of that stimulation had been impossible to track completely. The fucker was way too good at this.
Oh. It was a plastic bottle of water.
"Unnnf," he managed to grunt. Nodding at it.
Down it came...

He was so relieved. No fingers laying into him. Gloves, he reminded himself. Invisible hands inside 'em. Not human fingers. The tickler said it didn't need to sleep. It probably never cramped up, got fatigued...
A finger tapped his breastbone. He opened his eyes right away. There was a pack of cigarettes floating just over him.
"No," he sighed. "Don't sss... smmmoke."
"Fixer," the voice said patiently, "try again. I got your ass. Don't be sayin' no to me."
Tim wailed.
Something moved. Uh-oh. A change - way down.
Gloves were at his feet. No no no no, he thought, red alert, help meeeeeeee. The straps just wouldn't budge.
"No, he tells me, I don't smoke," The phantom snickered.
Tim tried to shriek as fingers landed on his soles, sliding and combing and tickling everywhere.

Thinking was too hard. No words.
His feet seemed to be ten feet high. Covered with slippery fingertips. Moving.

Hours and hours. Uh, no, that can't be right, his brain told him.
His feet were... feeling it more. Bigger, somehow. His ribs, too, and his pits.
Moving was beyond him. Derailed. Offline. So was roaring the laughter that wouldn't come out anywhere near hard enough.
"Hey," the voice said, right next to his left ear.
"Oooommmf," he sighed.
"You're past the first limit," the phantom said carefully. "You got it baaaa-aad."
Tim managed to chuckle a few times.

He drank water. No gloves were touching him - but they hung just a few inches above his skin. Many were waiting right over hot-button places.
"Cigarette?"
Out of reflex, Tim started to shake his head - and froze. He remembered the penalty. It seemed as if a couple weeks had gone by since the tickler had first made him smoke. "Yeah," he sighed.
And here it came...
Already lit. He grabbed it with his lips, cocked his head and took a short drag. Tim coughed.
"This tutor's got other bad habits," the phantom taunted. "But I got the tutor."
"Can't believe you," he grumbled.
"He's got a mouth on him," it chuckled. "Do you remember me giving you a compliment? How you already made it past the limit - the first limit?" He nodded wearily. "That's the inability to laugh, or move much at all. It takes us days to find that... personalized overload level for some guys. At least a couple. But not Fixer."
"Why are you mocking me?"
"No. I'm saying you're not just any ticklish dude. You're definitely worth getting to know... a lot better. Roaring and howling will be too hard to do, rich kid. So how much trouble do you think you're gonna have smokin'? Or suckin' down a beer?"
He thought that over. "Aw... hell."
 

The lighter flicked. Twice, three times.
That roused him. The gloves had been all over him, finding hot spots. They were being used, he thought vaguely, to try different speeds and pressures. It felt like he'd been worked over for a month.
A little flame appeared. It was a ways off. Coming over... to show him two of Shawn's derms.
"Naptime," the tickler said, "and I'll get you to your vacation cell."
"Cell," he said to the derms. "Anything you want, I'll give you. Call this off."
But the derms came to his neck. Squish, squish.
"Not now," his captor laughed. "You made my night, Fixer. Big fun."
"Nnn-noooo," he managed, voice fading out as he did.
 

There was black foam everywhere - up, down, covering the walls. He was in a big box now, with shelves loaded with scary tickling shit.
"Welcome," the voice sassed. Another cigarette was coming... and right about then, Tim discovered that the straps had been replaced. Thicker leather.
At least the bedsheet under him was clean, but that wasn't really much comfort.
"Where am I?"
"It's a secret. Hee hee. Now ask me why you're here. Go on, Fixer. Or how long you'll be here."
He boggled. "You really moved me to... a hidden dungeon?
"Now that's what you apes call a rhetorical question, right? Along the same lines as 'Are you going to tickle me more now?' or 'How many rounds of tickling will there be before you get bored?'"
Tim smoked. He'd be tickled in here with mind-warping dedication for a long time. His brain had trouble handling that information. Not even remotely possible... but here they were.
The phantom wanted to keep on tickling him, and it would - right here. Deeper, longer... shredding him for as long as it wanted. Fuck.
One thing was familiar, really - and even if he'd always hated tobacco before, the relief it gave him now was incredible. Tim was ready for another cigarette.
Freaking out could wait. The facts were indisputable.

22sep2019