711
Revised and posted - Dreamtime
712
There was something weird about the dude's shirt...
"Hey," a guy's voice said. I looked - and it was B.
"Hey!" I said back, smiling. "What are you doing here?"
He held up a green slip of paper. "You're stuck with me now."
"Uh-oh."
He nodded, and yawned. Half-awake, but so was I during first period. B had changed. His hair was longer, but that wasn't the only thing that made him seem... I don't know, less clean-cut. My impression was that he had discovered adult forms of fun.
His shirt had a strange pattern, and I didn't want to stare. Under the shirt. Big tattoos? Not B.
"I missed your birthday," I finally said, keeping my voice low. "What did you go and do now?"
He smirked, closing his eyes briefly. "Long story."
"Looking forward to that," I drawled, turning to the chalkboard.
I try to make the first day of school not as much of a waste for the kids as I remember it used to be, but B had me seriously distracted. My sister babysat him and his sister for years. All in all, I'd never found him to be a big pain in the ass. But I'm seven years older, and in one of those weird twists of fate I had just become his creative writing teacher...
[victim is supposed to recruit other victims, and yet he's not eager to manipulate the teacher into becoming one]
"It made me lift weights," he said simply. "Wanted a big, strong, tattooed fucker to mess with."
. . .
"Not just like, hey, it'll be fun to mess with people. It has bigger plans. Something really embarrassing, if anyone else knew. Really unbearable. And we fight, y'know, can't help it. Reflex. So we gotta be restrained - but not just any ol' rope will do the trick. No, it found out that thick leather, and steel, keeps our arms and legs really, uh, caught. No matter what." He sighed - sad, but wistful too. "Just kidding around. That's the mood. The joke's on me. Havin' some fun now, making it go on longer, and longer. More intensive."
"Yow," I sighed.
So an alley or a classroom wasn't gonna cut it. Too many people around. A real private place would be better. Then it could relax, get us strapped down just so... With food and supplies there, plenty of shit, and the trail gone cold - we're owned. Right? Then it can really relax and concentrate on... doin' what they like. The restraints are gonna make sure we're not gonna have any say in what happens. Or how long it happens. A weekend turns into a whole week, and another, smooth as shit. A month leads right into the next one -"
"C'mon," I said, in a skeptical tone of voice. "Months?"
"Nine weeks straight. I met a guy who was worked over for almost two years."
"B, I can't buy that."
"Nobody wants to believe it. Too scary."
"Well... yeah. That too. But it -"
"These bastards," he said quietly, conspiratorially, "are just as fascinated when the third month starts as they were when the third day got goin', and I'm not kidding. Somehow that doesn't get old - tickling us. It's torture, except you laugh. Starts back up every morning. I think maybe they get more obsessed as time goes on. We'd get bored, but I wonder if they... Well, anyway. Imagine being kept by those hands..."
. . .
He held a pack of cigarettes out.
"No thanks," I said automatically.
Grinning, he got one for himself.
"Don't you light that until you're off the property."
"Yeah, yeah," he sassed, walking toward the street. "I'm eighteen."
"It's still the rule."
The second he passed the curb, he lit up.
"Better?"
"Aaaah," he sighed, exaggerating it. Big, stupid grin.
"You've changed. That's all I keep thinking."
"I went through a life-changing experience."
I studied him. "You're kinda young to have a life-changing ex-"
"How was it? That's the question you wanna ask."
"No," I shot back.
"Sure you do." He rocked back, squinting at me as he tugged on the smoke. "Thinking is out. It's too hard, with everything going on. They don't miss a trick. Nothing overlooked. Plan all you want, but... naw, that's not it." He looked at his cigarette for a few seconds. "I hate lunch."
"You hate lunch? I don't follow."
"It was always there. Every second. So much for busting loose when it wasn't looking. As soon as I woke up, it was sticking a cigarette in my mouth right away. Big ol' breakfast for the tickle-slave, and then I'd get drilled for awhile. Jacked off. It never took off and left, far as I could tell..." He paused, looking for a reaction. "After a while it fed me again. And a few smokes. Couldn't skip those. The day wasn't even half over yet - not even close - and dinner was hours away. I knew exactly what I'd be doing all that time." He sighed, taking a drag like he was angry. "Sure as anything. The one thing I wanted most - what it all came down to - was for the fuckin' tickling to stop. And it didn't. Get that second meal down my throat, a couple cigs, and I knew there was definitely, absolutely gonna be three or four impossible fuckin' hours until dinner, and maybe five hours after that. Solid... feeling. You can't imagine what it's like. I just wanted it to be over. Y'know?"
I nodded.
B glared out at the street as if some kind of answer was approaching us. "That was all I had left. But the bastard just kept right on tickling."
713
The day finally arrived. She had been working for so long, and despite her own doubts she got the fellowship. The kids were going to Europe with her, and they had inherited her chronic inability to pick up the phone once in a while. Her daughter was going to work at the excavation too, so much like her mother it was spooky. His stepson was bumming around in between semesters - basically a good kid, with an almost sinister sense of humor.
That left him alone for five weeks. Time to write, out in the middle of nowhere, with no distractions.
Her boy had tucked a small (metal box) next to the seat of his car...
714
A dirty, sweaty rebel... not breathing as hard now.
Arms extended and held. Ankles caught.
He throws his hair back, squinting at the armatures.
When the implanted blood-oxygen sensors register 95 percent again, he watches the feather-tipped arms move back in...
715
Revised and posted - Ceremony
716
Revised and posted - Settling
717
A guy's face. He's sleeping - no, wait, he's coming around. Yawning. Woozy. The camera pulls back... He's wearing -
Those are cuffs. Shiny black leather around his wrists. Thick riveted cuffs. Straps disappear off the sides and the top of the mattress, two for each wrist, pinning his hands in between. They're wide straps, pulled tight.
He's buffed out, but there's no way he's gonna bust 'em.
He blinks - oh shit, he's seeing the cuffs. His eyes get big, and he starts to pull. Totally blown away by what he's seeing. The camera keeps retreating... he's naked. Big bed, clean white sheet.
His ankles are caught too. Four straps on each one. He looks down there, and tries to arch. Looking scared. And baffled.
There's a window, above him. The curtains flutter a little - bars. There are iron bars outside the window.
The room isn't very big. There are shelves lining both side walls. Boxes, bags, white jugs, garbage bags full of stuff.
He looks up -
"No. Nooooooo! Help, help, aaaaaahhh..."
Hands? Many... gloves. High up in the air, moving past the camera and down toward him slowly. Like they're stalking him. Big white gloves, about a dozen of 'em, shiny and taut. Satin. Firm, moving easily toward him.
He's pulling out all the stops, but he hasn't budged. "You - hallllllppp, what are you - no, get away, get a- naaawww oh haaallllllppp..."
They arrive. Smooth as birds, they set down, and take hold of his ribs, and thighs. Spreading their empty fingers across his belly and chest.
The last ones arrive at his feet. One covering the top, another squeezing the instep of each foot.
He sputters, looking from one to another. They press down -
"No," he pleads.
And they start to move.
He laughs, and looks amazed that he did. Then he continues. Laughing really, really hard. Slides up to a high-pitched whoop, almost a scream, and then back down to a massive roar.
The gloves keep on going. He starts throwing his head around, then pulls at the straps again. Trying to roll, slide up, slide down, arch his back. Nothing works. He's stretched out too much. Howling now, banging his head. He's completely fucked. Laughing all-out, harder than any man should be able to laugh, or have to laugh. This guy especially. A lot of muscles there, doing him no good at all. Totally unable to get away. Totally wild, the perfect definition of apeshit. They make him howl some more, and keep on rubbing.
The camera moves back more quickly. Out of the room. He gets smaller, and the gloves haven't paused once. He's in for it. Laughing his guts out in there, still trying to turn, covered with white hands. Active, persistent satin.
Out of the house, now. The front door slamming, a lock shooting, and then another. Locked in. Gloves, and all those supplies. Shabby little house, run-down, the kind you pass without even seeing it. Big front yard. Dirt road...
The camera races backward, and up. Way up. Huge fields on all sides of the shrinking house, not cultivated, just weeds or something. So it doesn't matter if the bedroom window's open. Hell, he could be shooting an Uzi in there and nobody'd hear it.
Clouds. The roof of the house can't be seen anymore. That guy, strapped down in there. Roarin' away. Nobody will ever know. A shitload of boxes and bags, toys probably...
What a setup. Perfect. He couldn't be any more helpless. One hundred percent stuck. Laid out out for the gloves to play with, caught in their grip. In for a long, hard ride.
How long 'til they're done with him.. let him go?
Pure, maximum-strength pleasure. The ideal situation - for the gloves.
718
"Hey," a guy said.
I looked around. Nobody -
And suddenly I was back in the doctor's exam room. Just like that.
"Excuse me, but I noticed a reaction... that the doctor missed."
"Where are you?"
My arms went straight out -
Air. In my armpits - as if my shirt and jacket weren't even there. I twisted around.
"There it is again," the voice marveled.
"Hallllp!" I yelled.
Footsteps, and the door starting to open.
A different room. Black. Larger. The walls looked soft.
I was still standing with my arms out. Something invisible held my wrists -
"Better," the voice decided.
The air blew again. Hair-dryers, I thought wildly. Cool air. Throwing myself around, I chuckled nervously.
My jacket and shirt disappeared.
The air was making me laugh.
"Interesting..."
I felt something touch me. One finger. Then more -
Pressing, moving, digging in!
Berserk. Thrashing, hooting, I couldn't shake the fingers. And I roared.
The tickling stopped.
"Oh, this is... fascinating," the voice said.
My jeans disappeared, then my boots.
I floated a few inches off the floor - and the air blasted over me. Chest, sides, thighs -
Feet.
I knew the fingers would return any second now.
The next few minutes were chaos. No tickling I'd ever felt prepared me for it. I was vulnerable everywhere, and the fingers tried me out.
Loopy from laughing - and from feeling so much stimulation - I only realized the fingers were gone. As soon as I started to be relieved about that, one hand wrapped around my cock.
"Does this reaction mean you're happy?"
I was hard. The tickling had fuckin' given me an erection.
"No!" I gasped. "No. Too... m-much."
"Too much?" it said - skeptically. My stomach lurched. It didn't believe me. "But... Well, let's get you into a more comfortable position."
A padded table appeared in front of me. It looked a lot like the exam table in my doctor's office. I was picked up and set on my ass.
"No," the voice said.
"Wait a min-"
Before I could finish, I was absolutely stuck. A black slab was over my head. Thick metal rods stuck out of it...
There were huge silver rings all over me. Around me, actually. My wrists were held almost straight up - and my feet were dangling in the air, spread wide. Rods immobilized the rings which were circling my legs in four places. More rods kept my arms from moving, and pinned my butt down.
Eighteen restraints -
As soon as I was done counting, one more appeared. There was a thick metal cuff holding my cock upright.
"No," I said, starting to plead.
But the fingers came back.
Oh, fuck, they just roamed everywhere.
"I'd like you to meet someone," the voice said pleasantly.
That definitely worried me.
[some loose equivalent of "urologist"... but the voice doesn't sound all that much different, and he suspects it's not a different tickler at all.
Other med. "specialists" are subsequently introduced . . .]
719
Revised and posted - Triproot
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12jul2006