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 I'd like to acknowledge Wayne C. for motivating me to finish this novel, and the other writers who courteously critiqued it.
 
 

- - 1 - -
 

Fingers crawl into my armpits, but I know they're not real. Another dream -
No, I'm wrong again. Flopping around real slow. I guess I'm awake. But the fingers won't be visible, oh no they won't.
"Morning," Valet says. "Up."
"No."
"Amigo..." Its tone doesn't impress me as much as the fingers do, as they slide further in.
"Alright, alright." I roll out of bed, yawning, coughing a few times. "What time is it?"
"Nine."
"Why the hell did y-"
"School time."
It takes a second or two for that to sink in - and I'm clawing for the door frame.
My fingers are pulled loose by... nothing. Strong, patient hands. "Jeez," it says conversationally. "Quit being so paranoid."
So I'm basically marched down the stairs, into the room where we usually hang out - and Scuzz looks up from his softcore biker-porn mag. The son of a bitch grins at me.
"Hey."
"Sorry," he says, growling the way he does. "The look on your face."
"Hit the bricks, scumbag," Valet says happily.
Scuzz's expression changes. Uh-oh. But he wastes no time getting out of the room.

I'm sat down in my favorite chair. A quick whistle gets me to look, and a pack of smokes is tossed my way...
"Are you gonna pay attention?" it mocks me. "Or do I have to tie you up?" "You never have to tie me up," I grumble. "Sure I do." "Playing," the DVD player says softly. I frown at it, sighing. "I'll get your coffee," Valet says. This video is only a couple years old, but I look so much more innocent...

Testing. One two three. Say something.
Wha - NAAAAAH hah hah haaahaawwwlll...
Good. You know, heh, I wanna test it some more. Make sure it's working. Nnnaah haaaaah nnnuh hah hah hah...

"Look," I tell the floating mug, "do I really have to hear this part?"
"Hmmmm," Valet says. "It's so amusing."
"Valet."
"Okay, okay."
The remote hovers, aiming, bobbing slightly as buttons are pressed.

Don't make me do this. I don't wanna do this. Eeeeeee heee heeeee heeeee hee -
You sure?
Okay! Okay okay I'll do it. Stop...
Heh.
Uh... shit.
Now.
I'm Boyle. I have to tell my whole life story because fuckin' Valet is making m-
Careful.
Dammit. Valet is, uh, insisting... Okay?
Keep going.
Okay. I will... I'm supposed to whoo hoo haw haw haw nnnn knock it off!
Sorry. Heh heh. You're just so fuckin' irresistible.
You done?
For now.
Of course... Shit. Okay. My name is - hey.
Go ahead. I'm not going to touch you.
Yeah, sure. Look... knock it off. I mean it. Get that fuckin' finger away from my heel.
Hee hee hee.
I don't know where to start. I mean, how far back -
Just relax, asshole.
Okay. Yeah. The butler.
Go.

When I was little, we had a butler. The whole deal, very British. I didn't know yet that we were rich... The guy's name escapes me, but he was so proper and formal it made me want to look behind him and pull the stick out of his ass. I used to stare at his gloves, though.
Whooooooh.
How anybody could wear those things all day and not get 'em dirty was just beyond me. All over the mansion, I was famous for making a mess as soon as they finished giving me a bath. So there were nannies and maids scrubbing me a lot. Sometimes even my mom. Until she went to Europe, one winter, and stayed there.
Uh-oh.
Fuck you. Let me tell this. I didn't know then that my dad hated my guts. Or why, but I found out having a kid around that probably wasn't his didn't sit too well with a big powerful tycoon like him. And I made her uncomfortable too, so I was on my own pretty early.
Poor little rich boy.
My ass... I'm just gonna ignore you.
Good luck.
So. Some of the staff tried real hard to make it up to me. Four of 'em, especially. They're set up, now, so they'll be more than comfortable for the rest of their lives. Do I get any extra credit for that?... Valet?
Don't ask me. I'm busy. Planning what's gonna happen to your armpits.
Aw, shit. Uh... My nanny, and one of my teachers, they were terrific about talking with me - about anything - and that made all the difference, far as I was concerned. And I had this big stuffed ape. Corilla. My best friend in the whole world.
Careful.
No. Best friend ever. Dammit. Corilla... That was because I didn't how to say a 'G' yet. Pretty scary expression on his face, but I knew that was for anybody who gave me shit.
Heh heh heh.
Oh, n-no!
You mean, shit like this?
Naw huhh haw haaah haaaaaw...

And the playback pauses, with a shot of me looking far happier than I really was -
Valet sighs. "Okay. You gotta get ready for work now."
This is confusing. "Uh, I -"
"Scoot."

When days start out like this, I can't concentrate for shit. Really, it's a good thing I'm expected to be useless. When they figure a way to squeeze me out, just about everyone will be relieved. Valet, especially. I'll be able to stay home even more than I do now...
Dammit, I wish I wouldn't think of stuff like that.

I come in the door, and go to hang my keys up on the little rack - but a glove swoops up and takes 'em away.
"Gotcha," Valet laughs.
"Uh-huh," I say, not so impressed anymore with its grasp of the obvious.
"Where's S-"
Click - and from the overhead speaker, I hear laughter. And I'm talkin' gravelly, desperate, at the end of his fuckin' rope cackling.
Frowning, I just nod once.
The speaker shuts off....

When I walk into the kitchen, a covered plate floats out of the oven.
"Got me some other bikers," Valet tells me proudly. "I had to see how they stack up to the Scuzz-man."
"Is that so," I say, sitting down.
"What's up with you?" it asks.
I just shrug, trying to be nonchalant - which is fuckin' impossible where Valet is concerned.
"Is it... school?"
"School," I shoot back bitterly.
"It is, isn't it? You seem apprehensive, buddy."
"Well. I can't know what you got in mind, buddy, until it happens."
"Oh," it says quietly. "I guess that's right."
"Uh-huh -"
"No contact. Okay?" and it sounds eager to please. Sometimes it actually is, but I've also fallen for that one before. "Tonight I just want you to watch the video we made, and... think."
"That's it?"
"Uh-huh. Promise."
I'm not reassured, exactly, but I relax a little. "Alright then."

The DVD is paused again. After a few seconds, I look around...
Scuzz is dragging himself into the kitchen. Naked - except for his tattoos, everywhere - and real sweaty. He's still panting slowly, and he looks completely out of it. Something about the eyes.
"Hey. Get out of here," Valet barks.
Scuzz's head snaps up. Big eyes. Trapped expression. "But you... uh, you -"
"Yeah. Asshole. Go take a shower. You stink. Remember where the shower is?"
After a little thought, he manages to nod his head.
"Move it," Valet growls at him. "Shower. Get dressed, get on your fuckin' panhead - and go get drunk. Don't come back for a couple days. You got that?"
Even more confused than before, Scuzz nods - and manages to find his way back out.
"Was that necessary?" I say to the levitating remote control.
"I'm just havin' fun with him. Gotta know how to talk to his kind."
"Mean," I say firmly, as the DVD starts playing again.

Let's see -
Okay, already. Shit.
You were up to... uh, the night after you kicked your best buddy out of your bed.
Don't say it like that. I felt bad. Sat there on the edge of the bed, looking at Corilla, there... I thought maybe I'd ask my dad if I could have a bigger bed. And I guess I was, uh, petting one of his paws -
One of the gloves.
Alright. Whatever. And it came loose.
Amigo.
Okay, I'm sorry. Back off... The glove came off his paw and floated there. Then the other one. And they went to my hand, and shook it.
Good to know you.
Real funny. So I was blown away. First Corilla, and now... his gloves. And I got up and hugged him -
What a cute little tyke.
Uh... thanks. He didn't hug me back, but his gloves landed on my shoulders and gave 'em a squeeze. It was okay.
Why, you son of a bitch.
It was... terrific! Wonderful!... Okay?
Hmmmm.
Don't. Please. Please?
You're gonna get it.
Yeah. Again. Figured that out already.
Have another smoke.

Thanks... It was real friendly. The way those gloves latched on to me. Nothing perverted about it.
Ungrateful little fuckhead -
Nooooooo!
You can forgot about smokin' for a while.
Whoooo hoooo hoo hooowheee heeeeee...

Scuzz and I are in the living room, watching a movie. Lots of car crashes, stuff blowing up.
Valet's hanging around too. As usual. I'm not sure how I can tell, but it is. Scuzz knows too, and he looked around, scowled...
He doesn't talk all that much - except when he's watching a movie. After a while I quit telling him to shut the fuck up, because he just ignores me. Clearly, it's got something planned. Better not to know, I figure, since it's waiting for the movie to be over...
As soon as the credits start rolling, we hear it start to giggle. A DVD zooms over to the player.
"Hey, there's a kickboxing movie coming on," Scuzz protests.
"Anything to keep me away, huh? A couple hours without all my fingers driving you nuts..." And what could he say to that? Nothing. "Don't worry, badass. Sometimes I keep you waiting until the next attack. Keep you wondering..."
"Swell," I say. "But how long is this thing we're gonna watch?"
"About twenty seconds."
"Oh," Scuzz finally says, thinking hard.
"Yeah," it shoots back, mocking him. "Oh."

A freeze-frame of a young guy appears on the TV screen. No shirt. I see gang tattoos... and rope holding him to the chair. He's lookin' pretty furious, there.
Valet makes a happy growling noise. "This dude's hysterical, right now, in one of the lab rooms. But I couldn't wait to share something with you two. You wonder - they all wonder - why I get such a major fuckin' rush out of tickling. Of all things. Admit it."
"Yeah," I say noncommittally. Scuzz just nods once.
"Well - watch."
The image starts to move. He's panting hard, and he gives the rope one more desperate jerk. And he sags back. I know Valet hasn't laid a finger on him yet, because he's still angry more than anything. Sure, he's looking around - for the five or six guys that must've bagged him. Rivals, maybe gonna saunter in and beat the shit out of him now...
I almost have to admire Valet's timing. The sound of a finger-snap gets him looking in the direction of the camera, but not right at it. I doubt he even knows it's there.
"Hey. Are you... ticklish?"
His eyes get bigger. Slowly. The anger drops away, as if he was a bathtub being drained. There it goes. I look at his eyes and see the changes. Childlike horror. Just for a second or two, and he snaps his head around, all 'banger again, tougher than shit. Then I see the disbelief taking over. How well I know it. The voice couldn't possibly have said the word I think it just said...

He looks around the room, with the expression of a lost little kid. Forlorn. Worried, showing it more than he probably knows, and filled with that gigantic wish to be somewhere else right now.
Finally, the hard squint. Exasperated, and resigned to a future which can't really be believed... and the tension in his face looks as if he's already in pain. Anticipating it as best he can. And I know how inadequate that is.
The TV goes blank. "You all do that shit," it says cheerfully. The DVD pops out and hovers in the air, bouncing very slowly - as if Valet was lost in thought. "Pretty much the same fuckin' sequence. What the hell, can't be happening, can't take it, don't wanna be here, can't do a thing to stop it, wonder how intense it's gonna get."
Scuzz is staring at the DVD very intently.
"But this is the best video I've ever gotten of it. That instant only comes around once, really. No matter how much I make you forget, there's only one first time. Right? One chance to tape what you look like when the idea of tickling first... hits home -"
"Uh-huh," Scuzz says immediately.
"You understand?"
I nod. "Yeah. I think we do."
There's a long, unsettling pause.
"Good," it snaps.
And the DVD cruises out of the room.

- - 2 - -
 

It's been pulling this "school" thing on me for the past few days, usually after I'm cuffed down. Making me watch a little more of the video it made.
True confessions. Shit.

They... pulled me.
Huh?
Steered me? Back to bed.
Oh. You ready to cooperate now?
Y-yeah.
You sure?
Oh yeah, I'll cooperate, I'll cooperate -
Enough. At ease, buddy. Here's a fuckin' cigarette.
The g-gloves. They were still... alive, in the morning. And I was glad. That was a nice surprise.
What are you getting at?
Nothing. Just that I liked those gloves.
I am gonna torch your ass. Those gloves. You think I don't get it? Just you wait.
Like you weren't gonna kick my ass anyway.
Well... Heh heh.
Shit. Like I was saying, every time the adults were gone, my gloves could hop off Corilla and say hello. And -
Wait. Oh, wow. Did you hear that?
No.
My gloves. You just said it - my gloves.
Yeah. Your gloves.
No-oooo. When you said it... Imagine I'm you, and I say that. My gloves came over and said hello.
Fuck.
Helloooooo, buddy.
Not again -
And are these your gloves, too?
Wait a minute, just wait, wait -
Aaaaaw. Your gloves wanna say hello. Right now.
No ooooooh heh heh heh haw.
Yeah. My gloves. They wanna make me happy. Priceless.
Haw haw haw -
Let's put the tape recorder away -
No nnoooooowhah hah hah hah haaaah!
So your gloves can make you real fuckin' happy. Yeah.
Aaawwww haw haw hah hah haw haaaaah...

"Alright. I get it," I announce, even though it's a dangerous thing to say to Valet and it probably won't do any good.

Are you gonna let me do this?
Maybe.
I'm serious. It's gonna take ten years if you keep jumpin' me.
You say that like -
Like it's a bad thing. Spare me.
Okay, okay.
Where was I?
Your gloves were alive. During the day.
Corilla's, uh... his gloves. I learned my lesson. Asshole. They were like a dog. Hah.
Buddy, I'm warn-
So glad to see me, every time I walked in the room... Okay?
Good save.
Shit. They'd shut the door right away, if I forgot. It was almost like they were relieved that I made it back to my room in one piece. And they had free run of the house, turns out, because they started giving me stuff. An orange, a candy bar... Or if I was thirsty, in the middle of the night, all I had to do was ask Corilla for some water - and they'd bring it. Kinda like having my own private butler. Except he was invisible.
Magic.
Yeah. And really into practical jokes.
Heh heh heh -
As I got older, he... uh, he wasn't just a butler. Those gloves. Corilla liked to play around. Didn't matter what the game was. I sat there one day, very seriously, and explained to Corilla how to play checkers. I never beat him. Every fuckin' game... And the gloves would leap over the board at me, and give me a nuggie. Or punch me on the shoulder. I mean, hard. We'd wrestle on the bed. Sometimes he even let me win.
Shit.
Hey, that's how it was. When I was nine or ten, I almost got sent off to boarding school. Maybe my dad was feeling a little guilty that day. I don't know. But by that time, I'd figured out that my last name, uh, guaranteed some things. Any school I went to would have private bedrooms. So I was ready to bring Corilla along.
Or just your gloves -
His gloves. His. You got that? Man... That first time I went to Europe. St. Moritz. I was eleven, hadn't seen my mom in years. All nervous. But my dad said I had to spend the whole summer there. The night before I left I just sat there, hugging Corilla, and I cried. I -
And then -
Then, dammit, I was wondering if I remembered how to fuckin' fall asleep without his fingers stroking my hair, and my neck.
Like this?

Valet -
Keep talking. Or... start chuckling, amigo.
Uh, the gloves. Yeah. They pulled out a suitcase. Hopped inside. Damn. That feels, uh, sensational.
Heh.
They went inside the suitcase, and pulled it shut. Pounding, like they were stuck. Making the suitcase rock back and forth. Let us out, let us out... Shit, I laughed until my sides hurt.
Real thin ice, there -
No kidding. You're makin' me all... relaxed. Petting me.
Uh-huh.
Next day, I got up - and the gloves were missing. When I opened the suitcase, one of 'em flicked me in the nose. Hard. So I slammed the suitcase and locked it, laughing, and went downstairs to eat. Damn, that felt good. Trapping 'em -
Did it?
Hey!
You thought you were pretty clever, didn't ya?
Hah haaaaaah hah hah...
Caught those gloves. Locked 'em up.
No no no whoo hooo hah haaaah -
Yeah. you sure showed them.
Noh hoh hoh hoh hoh hoh hoh haaaawwwww...
 

"Are you Boyle?"
I look down. This can't be the guy I'm here to meet...
Once in a while I see one of these people. Cool street kid, shady. Far more savvy than I ever was. They make me nervous. And this one's impossibly handsome, or rather he would be if he wasn't dopesick. Something's definitely wrong with him.
"Yeah. I'm Boyle."
"Good..." He sounds relieved. "Hunter. Grab a chair. I, uh, c-can't stand up right now."
His face is sweaty. Every breath is labored. As he takes a pull off his smoke, his hand shakes. Guy needs a hospital, and right now, that's what I'm thinkin' - "Can I get you anything?" a waitress says. Young. She wasn't even outside, and suddenly she materializes here as if she's been waiting for an excuse.
"Latte, please."
But she's staring at Hunter like he was a Porsche, or a huge slab of chocolate...
Grabbing a shaky drag, he finds a grin for her. "I'm good. Thanks." Sexy growl, quick eye contact. Playing it coy. He's givin' her a little treat, I think. Maybe it's an old reflex.
She nods. With a big smile for him - not for me - off she goes.

He's got an underbite. It makes him look mean. Some old acne scars, too... Now if he came into a little money, got fixed up - look out. A leather jacket's hanging on the back of his chair. An old one. He's too thin, but still more cut than I'll ever be - streamlined muscle under a thin crimson t-shirt...
"You look like you need a doctor. Or a bag," I say.
The grin flees right away. He shakes another cigarette out of the pack. "Uh-uh. No doctors. Fuckin' hate drugs."
"Ah."
"Hate these fuckin' cigarettes," and he pauses long enough to plant it against the new one and puff quickly. "Almost a year off 'em, and this week... it seems to help."
I get my own pack out. "Help what?"
"Here you are," the waitress says. He flashes the grin again. I swear I can almost see the pheromones they're spraying at each other, mingling above the table... and I catch myself looking at the foam of my latte, as if I'd see -
"The tickling," he groans.

My head whips up. What? The waitress is gone now, and that was not what I expected him to say. I have some real nightmares about tickling, myself. Crazy shit. I don't want to look him in the eye... but I make it happen.
"I don't think I heard y-"
"Aw, I think you did," he says. "I saw you react."
"I have weird dreams. Sometimes."
He squints at me. Concentrating seems to be very hard for him... "This ain't no damn dream, for me. All week. They don't stop."
"They?"
"Feathers. Little fuckin' feathers. Inside me." He takes a quick, shaky drag. So do I. "Inside."
Crazy as a shithouse rat, I think -
"Monday..." he gulps a couple quick breaths. "Stung. My arm. Like a bee got in my room. I got up, closed the window, and a few minutes later it started. And I can't make it stop."
His shoulders heave a few times - with laughter. Since Monday night? He's been like this all week? I can't even imagine how horrible...
I grab his arm. "Hunter -"
"Can't fuckin' stand it, dude. Can't hardly sleep at all. I tried everything -"
Stung. Wait. I think I get it.
"Have you ever felt anything even slightly like this, before?"
He shakes his head hard, right away. And giggles. It sounds like he's so tired of giggling, and he just can't stop.
"I think I can help," I tell him.
He reaches for my arm and squints at me, still laughing. The poor guy.
I get out my cell phone.

"Boss-man," Val answers, almost respectfully.
"Val. Hi... Look. Uh, I met somebody who... You haven't had any security breaches there, have you?"
"Not lately. Is this the Hunter guy?"
"Yeah. How did you know?"
A longsuffering sigh. "I have my ways."
But I'm used to Val being an oddball. If it wasn't so bright, I would've gone back to a human assistant a long time ago. "I'm wondering about 'bots, here."
Three or four seconds go by. "Not mine."
"I didn't say they w-"
"Ah! It's those bastards at Nanbad." One of our competitors. "What are the symptoms?"
I turn further away from Hunter - who's preoccupied with a giggling fit - and lower my voice. Val is never gonna believe this. "Tickling."
Yup. A pause. "Say again?"
"They're tickling him."
"Is that... slang? Or do you mean, actual tickling?"
I hold the phone out, closer to Hunter's mouth. He's too far gone to notice. Yelping and squealing, hugging his sides. Sweat drips from the sides of his head, landing on the table.
"That," I say.
"You think they made 'bots to do that?," Val says skeptically. "Nobody's that fuckin' cruel. It's sadistic."

I'm feeling very uncomfortable with this whole conversation. Too bizarre, or something... I turn away from the table again. "I don't think he's a total head case."
"Oh, c'mon."
"Says he felt a sting, and it started a little while after that."
"How long ago?"
"About a week."
"A week? Are you... Look, he probably needs a psychiatrist more than anything. Serious psychotropics."
"As a favor to me -"
"Screw you," Val laughs. "I'm busy."

But I stand my ground. "You get your ass down to the north R&D complex. Just run a scan or something. Check him out."
"It's eight o'clock at night."
"You need to listen to him again?"
It makes me cool my heels for a few seconds. "Cops see him like that, they'll pick him up for sure. Take him into one of those padded rooms of theirs. Shabby. Strap him down and leave him there. And if you're right, about the 'bots, just imagine being caught like that. Forgotten -"
"Stop it," I say, getting another smoke. "I'm spooked enough as it is."
"Yeah. Well, you better be right. But you're gonna owe me, boss-man."
"Thanks -"
"I mean, shit. It's gotta be driving him absolutely... crazy."
"So, anyway, you're gonna head over to the complex now?"
"O-kay. I'll irradiate the little bastards. Lower his pH just enough - yeah. Does he look like shit?"
I wonder why it's asking this kind of question. "Oh, yeah."
"Get him in the car. Now. Before the cops do. You better drag him in, if you have to... No. Wait. Take him to the lab. The one in Hungry Valley."
"That's like thirty miles from here."
"But I've got the new resonance scanner there. Not at R&D. And nobody will see you bring him in. Less embarrassment, if he's getting tickled -"
"Got it," I sigh. "Hungry Valley, then."
"Uh-huh. It's all tricked out. Don't worry, amigo. I'll take great care of him. You sure you remember how to get to the place?"
It's way the fuck out in the hills, unmarked... But I can picture each turn. "Yeah. I got it."
"Good. Call if you need to. But bring him straight here. Whatever it takes."
"Got it. I hope this doesn't wreck your whole evening. Gonna make it worth your while, Val."
Laughter. "Yeah. I'm fairly sure you will."
"Thanks," I tell it, and then I hang up.

"Help?" Hunter says miserably.
"Right now," I tell him. "Let's go. Get those things out of you."
"Fuck! Thank you. Oh man, thanks..."
I drop a couple five-notes on the table. "Can you walk?"
"It's like... my f-feet were dipped in acid," he says, but he finally stands up. "A real mild acid. Can't scrub it off. Tickling, tickling, tic-"
"Yeah. Got that," I said. "I'll get your jacket, but you gotta stand -"
Another fit of silent giggles hits him. But he nods quickly.

It's a real good thing I found a parking space not too far away. Crossing the street seems out of the question, unless maybe I carry him -
"Make it stop, this d-damn tickling, whoo hoo hooo-ooooo hah haaaah..."
"Real soon. Val's good," I nod, buckling his seat belt. "The feathers will be out soon. Every one of 'em."
"Whew. This is the worst fffff... fuckin' nightmare, if you're ticklish. You got no idea, dude."
Sucks to be you right now, I think. But he's making me real nervous. Can't quite put my finger on the reason, though. "Forty-five minute drive, maybe. And this weirdness will be over."
"This is unbearable. I'm not... kidding. What a week. I've give anything just to get some s-sleep. Whole night through, without waking up to luh... laugh."
I grunt once, just to be polite.
"If there's anything I can do for ya... Anything." His head rolls around. "Just say the word."
"Just hang in there."
"I - " He grunts, going rigid. "Shit. I g-gotta laugh. Harder. Sorry."
"Don't be sorry. You can't help it. Go ahead and laugh -"
"Waaaah huh huh huh huh..." And so on.

Three minutes solid. His arms move feebly. Scratchy voice.
It's getting to me, and I can't figure out why. Spooky.
I just drive along, and he finally quiets down. Panting for another minute, and then he lights a smoke.
"My pillow," he mutters.
"Huh? Pillow?"
"At home. Soaked. Fuckin' drenched. I laugh into my pillow. Thin walls. Don't want the guys next door to hear. Give 'em ideas..."
"Ah," I mumble, because actually I don't know what the hell to say to that.
"Laugh hard, with my face jammed into the pillow. Soaked it. You're gonna help me. Right? Please -"
"That's... intense," I finally say.
He squints at me. "What the hell. I got no pride left anyway... That ain't the worst part. You know?" I look over at him. "It gets me off. I didn't even know. Tickling... Horny. Real hot. Try to jack off, and the feathers kick it into high gear. Unbelievable. Can't touch my cock without the feathers... Fuckin' balls are gonna explode. I see a... uh, somebody who's hot, think about sex at all, and they're movin' faster. And faster..."

"Easy. I know we can get the feathers out of you."
"I have never felt anything like this," he pants. "A few times lately I thought... I can imagine some wild shit. But this blows everything away."
Lately. Hmmmm. "When was the first time?"
He smokes, thinking about it. "I was in this club. Winter. Cold outside, too hot in there. And... somebody got me out on the dance floor. Real crowded. These fuckin' hands get me, under the arms, and I just lock right up when somebody..." He shoots me a look.
Finally, I nod. "Me too, if they're, uh, aggressive enough."
"Yeah. Fingers got me, more fingers wrap around my sides. Can't move, can't yell. Laughin', there, like I was on E. Happy-fit. Y'know? It was only about ten, fifteen seconds. Just about knocked me down. And nobody around me will admit to anything..."
"Weird."
"Invisible hands. Sure. The assholes... I ain't goin' back to that club."
"I don't blame you."
He leans against the car door. Heaves a sigh. He sounds tired. "A few times, after that, I wake up all of a sudden. Feel a hand slide over my ass, real quick. But that was like a flashback, I guess. Remembering the club. Those fingers..."
 

When I shut off the car, Hunter groans. "Oh, fuck. This is a bad one -"
And he's rigid. Squealing, with his elbows tight up against his sides. Stomping his feet on the floorboard. Fuck, he's totally deranged.
Serious nanotickling.
Getting out of the car, I'm all shaky. Damn. What if that were me? How insane would I get?
Taking a deep breath, I open his door and look at him. And I smell piss. That insane, huh? For a quick second I'm angry, because I doubt he can even afford to pay the cleaning bill, much less replace the leather seat and the carpeting. But if I was in his position I would've shit my pants by now, probably.
I unfasten his seat belt and stand there, deciding how to pick him up without getting piss on my clothes -
"Good work," Val says, right behind me.
I look. Can't see it. That's odd. Isn't it? I mean, I hear Val just fine...
A dozen black gloves float in and start picking Hunter up. That looks really weird.
My assistant is invisible. Seems like I would've remembered something like that.
"Hunter? Buddy? I'm... Valet."
Funny, but I don't know if I've heard Val use that name before. The second syllable.
But he just laughs raggedly.
"Let's get those feathers out of you. Don't worry about a thing."
"Vuh huh huh vaaaah Val vuh huh hey heh heh," he chortles.
"That's right." The gloves carry him toward the tunnel entrance.
I finally shut the car door and follow along.

"Duh huh huh," Hunter's saying.
"Delirious," Valet says slowly. "You may be hearing things... seeing things that aren't there."
That makes me suspicious. But Val's carting him to the door - with all those empty-lookin' gloves. "Or, maybe not seeing things that are there?"
"What?" it says. "Not you, too."
"Hey, I'm fine. I'm not the one getting, uh -"
"Hunter. This guy, here, just saved you. Gonna put an end to this... weird inner tickling." and it chuckles. I just don't understand its mood tonight. "He's a good dude."
"Is heeeee huh guh hah hah huh huh hoooowheee heeee huh huh hah huhh..."
I wonder what he was about to say, there.
"Kinda freaks you out, doesn't it?" Val says to me.
"Well, yeah," I mumble, as the door swings out. "But I can't figure out wh-"
"In we go, Hunter," it says soothingly. "Gonna get all that nasty tickling out - of your system."
"Whoo hoo hoo hunh huh huh..."

I follow behind, watching Hunter get carried down the hall. Without the gloves I'd never know that Val's even here. That's confusing the hell out of me.
But I'm rattled anyway. Injecting tickle-'bots into a guy. Imagine that. And what if he hadn't gotten hold of me? I picture Hunter lying in a dark, ratty apartment, laughing himself hoarse. But that probably sums up his whole week.
"C'mon, amigo," Val says. It carries Hunter into a dimly lit room -
A lot of black furniture. This isn't a normal lab room. What the hell is Val doing?
The door clicks shut behind me.
"Now, Val," I start saying -

Whoosh.
It all comes back to me.
 

Oh, hell. What a nightmare.
And the fucker made me beg. My "assistant". Sure. Please, please come and help this poor guy. Son of a bitch. It picked the place, and I delivered Hunter - to a psycho who just loves 'bots.
"You... didn't," I finally say.
"Yeah," it chortles. "I did."
Gloves start pulling off Hunter's jacket. "Let's get these clothes off you, buddy. You're a mess."
He struggles, for a few seconds, until the laughter makes it impossible to continue.
"Poor guy," Valet croons softly. "So crippled by it. He's very, very ticklish..."
A chair hits me in the back of the thighs, at about the same time one of the gloves hops over and pops me in the chest. I sit down, suddenly -
Leather straps catch my wrists in about five seconds flat.
His shoes hit the floor, one after the other. The wet jeans are tugged down impatiently - but Hunter doesn't even seem to be aware of it. He's gone way inside, battling the feathers. And losing.
"If you behave yourself, I'll let you smoke," it tells me quietly. My shoes come off. "But..."
A kerchief ties around my neck. In no time, it can be between my teeth.
I nod, scowling.

My socks are pulled off, and more straps pull my feet off the floor.
Secured to the chair legs.
My chair lifts off, and it sets me about a yard away from Hunter's right leg. The gloves pull hospital scrubs on him. Just the pants. He's got a pretty nice tan. And he keeps his chest shaved, apparently -
Two big cuffs rise over his outstretched arms.
"Hunter? It's Valet. I'm going to make sure you can't hurt yourself," it says.
"Nooooo hoo hoo hooo-oooooo..."
"No matter what happens."
I snort.
The gloves stop moving, and start to turn toward me. "Amigo..."
"Okay. Alright."
His ankles are cuffed down next.

A little electronic pad rises off a table, and turns so I can see its face. There's a little diagram of a body on it. The sides and feet are heavily speckled with red dots.
One of the gloves comes over and taps the image of a slider-switch. The red starts to fade...
"You unbelievable son of a bitch," I whisper.

"Hunter. You stud. You're a smoker, right?"
He just gasps for air.
A carton of cigarettes is coming. On that shelf I see maybe nine more cartons, waiting there, and then the cabinet door closes.
"Alright. Let's get you some water. Give you a cigarette."
He manages to nod.
As a pack is sliding out, his head comes up. Lifted, I decide, by those magic hands - just like they checked him out, seeing if he was ticklish, in that club. Oooo, got a live one here...
A water bottle opens. It's patient, and so gentle - now. Helping him out. He empties the bottle.
"Where are you?" he finally says, watching a smoke come over to him.
"Right here."
He looks puzzled, but he takes the cigarette. "I can see him... Hey - What's that around your ankles?"
A big hand curls around my mouth. Invisible -
"Nothing's around his ankles, Hunter. He's just sitting there." A leather thumb opens the lighter and serves him up. "Remember what I told you, about the hallucinations?"
He looks all around, exhaling smoke. "Fuck. I'm that out of it, huh?"
"Well, who wouldn't be?" it says smoothly. "You've had a hell of a week."
The hand tightens a little, squeezing my cheeks. "You be nice," it hisses in my ear. When I nod, it takes the hand away.
"Hunter." What am I supposed to say to him? "I'm here, buddy. Gonna stay right here. Try to... uh, relax. And Valet's gonna get those feathers out of you. Aren't you, Valet?"
"Y-yeah. Outside. As in, external... feathers."
He doesn't catch on yet. "Oh, fuck. Thanks," he says, lowering his head. "I don't like the cuffs, though."
"If I didn't think they were absolutely necessary..." And it laughs quietly.
My own pack slips out of my shirt pocket.
"Why is this happening to me?"
"We'll explain everything. Later," Valet says. "Now, first, I have to stop the current attack."
He's so pathetically grateful. "Oh yeah, yeah, yeah."
"Permanently."
"They've done their job," I snap.
"Amigo, remember... You're here to talk to him." The bandanna around my neck is tugged, just once.

Hunter starts chuckling again. There's a glove touching the e-pad.
Increasing the stimuli.
"Aw no -"
"Hang in there, dude," I say stupidly.
A white bottle drifts up from the back counter. "See this, Hunter? Look. Open your eyes."
His eyes are glazed. "Uh... Uh -"
Four rubber gloves arrive.
He whines loud, fighting the straps. "Don't, don't, if you touch 'em it gets w-worse!"
The bottle pours oil all over his chest. He arches weakly.
I can't believe what it's doing to him. "Too far," I whisper. "Really. He'll snap."
"No he won't," it chuckles immediately. "Strong and healthy. I know how to pick 'em."
"What?" Hunter wails.
"I was just saying... You're a hunk. Do you know that?"
"No, no - don't! I can't take it!" Huge, worried eyes track the gloves as they come down to his belly.
"I just rub this in -"
He screams.

In front of my face, the fingertip presses the e-pad until the red is almost gone. Hunter finally relaxes.
"Oh no, no... You. Dude. Call 'em off."
"I wish I could," I say sadly.
"We've got to finish this, Hunter," it says. "Right now. So these 'bots won't tickle you any more."
I wonder if it just slipped, there -
"B-bots?" he says. "Robots?"
Valet sighs. The gloves back up a little. "Nanobots. You've been infected with very tiny little robots. Designed to tickle somebody."
He looks over at me - and back at the gloves. "Who...? No way. That's so fucked up."
"You have no idea," I shoot back.
"Uh... I've seen this before," Valet starts.
I have to snort again.
"Amigo... I'm serious. And I promise, Hunter, they're gonna be killed. Right now. Carried away, flushed out -"
"Fuck. No, aw fuck. Then get it over with," he yells. "Do it!"
The gloves land. Rubbing slowly. Not really even tickling, yet.
He moves like they're on fire. "Aaaaaaah fuh fuhhhh hah haaah haaaa-aaaah... So muh huh hoh whooo-oooo wuh w-worse, eeeeh aaah hah haaaaah haw haw huh haawww..."
The bottle and gloves assemble over his feet.
Valet lets loose with an extremely happy sigh. I don't think I can watch this.
"No no naaaaaah aaaah hah haaaa-aaaaah naaaah nnnnot my feeeeeeeee heeee heeee..."

"There," it says after a long minute.
I open my eyes, and the gloves are holding - flashlights. Some kind of light.
Another smoke is shoved between my teeth.
"Cuh. I cuh... cuh, can't t-take this," he finally says.
The lights are turned on.
"Nooooo -"
"Now that the chemical is soaking in, all we need to do is apply some... heat."
The lamps are brought close to his sides, and feet.
"No no no aw fuck not heat, nooooooooooo -"
"Yes, Hunter," it says. I can tell it's fighting not to snicker.
"It makes 'em go craaay aaaaaay aaaaaaah haaaa-aaaah n-noooooooo hoo ooooooooo..."
Right in front of my face - the e-pad. That glove's finger, pressing down again. Little digits are increasing - until red light solidly covers the little figure's feet and sides.
100.
Hunter is convulsing. Mouth wide open. No sound coming out.
He starts to thrust... very slowly.
The overhead lights fade away. The glove wraps around the e-pad and takes it away...
"I like this guy," Valet chuckles.
Fingers slide around my ribs. They're oily.
I hiss, and start to cackle.

Eventually, Hunter cums - and sags. Quivering. Still awake, unfortunately. His head is twitching.
I whoop in his general direction for awhile...
 

Cooler air.
I'm not laughing. So I guess it's not tickling me anymore.
The kitchen. Still on the chair... though the straps are loosening.
"Huh... Hunter."
"He's just fine."
I look around. "No. Not fine. You don't h-have any way of knowing... how intense that is."
"I can't even imagine. It's fun to try, though... And lookit you. All worried about your new buddy. Roommate."
The e-pad lands in my lap. I pick it up, and turn it over.
OFF. No red dots anywhere.
"Is it true? For once?"
"Yeah." It doesn't sound happy with me.
"Is he -"
"Asleep."
"The bots are dead?"
"Sadly... yes."
I twist the e-pad until the screen shatters.
Valet makes a tongue-clicking noise, but I throw it as hard as I can. "That was a waste."
"It's my money. Last I knew. Dammit."
"Technically, yeah."

- - 3 - -
 

In the afternoon, after hours and hours of disciplinary tickling followed by unusually heavy sleep, I finally wake up. Yawn, get a cigarette, go piss...
Nobody else is around. I make coffee and get some eggs out of the refrigerator. Easy chuckles come from behind me, but I don't greet it. In my head I picture an invisible hummingbird darting around me.

And it can't even let me make an omelet in peace. "Flip it the other way."
"You wanna cook it?" I grumble. "Here. Take the spatula. You think you're so smart -"
"Hey," I hear, from behind me.
It's Hunter. Squinting. Confused... and sore.
"There he is," Valet says proudly.
The poor guy's head swivels all around, looking for the source of the voice.
"You okay?" I ask. "No. I'm not okay," he shouts, glad to have a visible target for his anger. I know how that is. "I don't know where the hell I am, and I'm still having the same... incredible fuckin' nightmare."
"Sit down," it says. "That's an order. Your feet must be sore."
"Bullshit..." But I watch him ease his way onto a chair.
"You eat eggs?"
The look he gives me has a whole assortment of feelings in it... and I definitely sympathize with that.
"Uh... No onions."

"I can't believe this," he snaps, buttering his toast. "Just when you think life can't get any weird-"
He freezes. Looking toward the hallway.
Scuzz is floating in. Sound asleep. Sweaty, oily. And he stinks.
"Phew - c'mon," I complain, setting my fork down. "Tryin' to eat here."
"I call this dude Scuzz," it says, proud as can be. He lands in a chair, head and arms sprawling.
Hunter's speechless for a few seconds... then, "His fingers are in the butter."
"Sorry."
Scuzz grunts, stirring.
"Wake up, buddy," it coaxes him.
"Nuh huh huh huh," he chuckles, lifting his head. "Stop it, stop, dammit..." and he starts coughing.
A mug of coffee lands in front of him.
"Scuzz. Hey. Got somebody for you to meet."
He manages to look over at me. I shake my head a little, and point to my left.
Squinting, woozy as fuck, he finally sees Hunter.
"Good," he says. "Now lemme the fuck outa here."
"Good?," Hunter barks. "Hey -"
"Nobody's leaving," Valet laughs. "No chance of that. This handsome guy is Hunter. Hunter, Scuzz."
Neither of 'em say anything.
"Scuzz got a new name. I think you need one too..."
"No."
"Amigo. Any ideas?"
"Leave me out of this," I say, not wanting to look either dude in the eye right then.

Hunter slams his fist on the table. "No! Forget it. I like the name I got. And I'm not gonna stay in this nut house anoth-"
Scuzz and Valet both start to chuckle.
"Hunk," it says. "Yeah. That's it. From now on."
"Shit," Scuzz mumbles, shaking his head. Carefully, he starts to reach for his coffee mug.
"Yeah. Amigo, Scuzz, you heard me. Call him Hunk."
"Before you start thrashin' him, for wanting to use his given name," I say to the air, "how 'bout giving us a couple hours to explain. How things are."
"No way! I wanna get started on him."
Hunter - uh, Hunk - looks terrified.
"Please?" I say.
A big sigh, as if it has no bigger pain in the ass to deal with... "One hour."
I nod. "Deal. That's why I asked for two."
There's silence, for a few seconds... and I realize I'm going to pay for that crack. "I'll be in his cell, getting things all ready. If you need me."
"Right," Scuzz says, with a snort. Then he looks at me, figuring out what an extra world of tickling he just brought down on himself too.
"The hour starts when I see you guys settling down... Have a cigarette. Everybody, now."
With a sigh, I reach for the pack. Scuzz already has his hand out. We know better.
But Hunk, he just looks more annoyed. "I don't wanna smoke."
"Uh, look." I put my hand up, trying to hold Valet off. "It's not gonna let us do anything else until you smoke."
He rolls his eyes... and snatches at the pack.
"Good Hunk," our captor sighs.
"Fuck off," he barks.
It chuckles quietly.
"Gonna fit right in here," Scuzz drawls.
 

Glove-catcher.
What?
You were saying how clever you were. Messing with Corilla's gloves.
Let's just skip over that.
Chicken.
Well - yeah.
They went to Europe with you.
Uh-huh.
And?
It was okay. I mean... tense. Sure. I don't wanna think about what it would've been like, if they, y'know, if -
Yeah. You might've ended up doing drugs or something.
Fuck you.
Still like to live dangerously, huh?
Keep pushing. That's right.
Ooooo, I'm scared.
So. I got something else out of that trip. The gloves were doing what they - uh, acting the same as they did in my bedroom, even when they weren't around Corilla. And I was glad. Since Corilla wasn't there, and the gloves were the same as always, I stopped thinking of them as... his gloves.
They were your gloves.
Stop it. I mean it. I'm not kidding, here. They acted kinda like my friends, at school. But they weren't... just the hands of a kid, or an ape. And they always worked together. It. In a class all by themselves -
Good one.
It's true. Now, Corilla was definitely a he. But the gloves were, uh, separate. They were at my mom's, and everything. Free. But they always worked together, so I didn't think of them as "they". They were worn by an invisible friend, connected to Corilla somehow... but an "it".
The wearer of the gloves.

Yeah - Oh. That's right. The name... That's when I heard my mom use this word, a French word, and I thought it sounded pretty cool. So I asked her what it meant... but I didn't take her word for it. When I was back home, I checked in a dictionary. Talked to it, and the gloves flew around. Looked pretty happy.
Heh heh.
So that was that. Yeah. I guess the glove-wearer, it got a name. Get those things away fr-
What was that name, again?
Nooooo hoo hoo hoo...
Say it.
Voooo vuh huh aw hah hah haaaah -
You better say it. And oh, you better hope I like the way it sounds.
Vah hah hee heeee heeee naaaaawwww...
Last chance, asswipe.
Vaaah hah hah noooo nooo hoo hooo hooo...
Alright, then.
Waaaaaah hah heee hee heeeeeeeeee eeeeeeeeeee eeeeee...
 

Hunk doesn't blame me. I don't understand why not.
He seems to relax when I'm around. Unwinding, slowly. Less often than at first, he dares to reach over and touch my arm or my hand. That doesn't bother me, because I had the same urge at first. I put a hand on Scuzz maybe three separate times, and he tensed up immediately... but he studied me, and tolerated it.
Later I figured it out, what I was doing. And Hunk. By touching somebody else, you prove to yourself that they're actually here, talking to you. Another captive, yeah - but at least you haven't gone totally nuts yet. Maybe Scuzz already understands that because he did it to Randy, way back when.

"Yeah," Valet confirms it, with a few generous chuckles. "It was cute. Freaked Randy out but good. Before Scuzz could even stammer out an apology, ol' Randy put it together and stuck out his hand. Gave him a big ol' handshake. What do you call that cool one, when you -"
"Soul," I say distractedly.
There's a brief pause. "Yeah. A soul handshake. Thanks. They'd do that every time I hauled 'em off to their cells. Loud, tough-guy handshake. So cool. You guys."
"Psychotic guys, when you get through with us."
"Aw, now. I'd never let that happen to my amigo."
I snort. "Or his amigos."
"Of course." It laughs differently. "You've got a new buddy. He feels safe around you, though I can't say I know why. Dude's kinda attached. You're his type, I guess. That was already there, so I just helped it along."
"Huh?"
"You know."
Instinctively, I still look around at times like this. Nothing there, and I feel like an ass. "No, I don't."
"Hunk." More chuckling.
It takes me a few seconds. "Get the fuck outa here."
"You're so dense."
"He's..."
"Yup."

My turn to laugh. "No. You didn't see him... That night you made me go out and get him. There was this waitress - I mean, they both looked ready to jump on the table, and do each other -"
"Amigo, you big dope. I've had great conversations with ol' Hunk. Finding out what he likes. What you saw the first night was a reflex. He's had to blend in, y'know? But not here. And little dude's having a great time now. He really is. Not that he's gonna admit it to you two."
"So that makes it all okay," I say disgustedly.
"He thinks it's... amusing. And it amuses me, which is much more important, since I'm bigger than you are. And you better not forget that I'm all about keeping you guys out of trouble."
"In other words, the same damn excuse for everything."
No reply... and I realize I'm in for it now. Shit.
"That's funny," Valet finally says.
I don't dare say anything.
"I said, that's funny!"
Wham. Fingers start tracing their way around my sides.
"Noooo noooo hoooooo!" And right away I'm beating at its hands - always too fast for me, so I end up punching myself. I start to fall, and more hands ease me down to the carpet.
It pulls my arms out, so I can't hurt myself - or protect myself.
The hands tickle faster!
After a gasp, I can't even make any real noise. Flopping, I try to dig my toes into the rug and push myself away from the crippling fingers -
"You're a real funny guy," Valet mutters.
Flailing hard, I manage to get my right arm free, but all I can manage to do is pound my fist on the carpet.
"There ya go. So fuckin' funny..."
Efficiently, with a horrible finality, my fist is pulled behind my back. Then my left hand too. Pushed against the base of my spine. I manage to shriek real laughter, a purging noise which makes the intensity a little more bearable but not anywhere near enough -
My arms and legs are swiftly picked up, and I'm turned around. It starts fingering my gut.
Floating into one cell or another, I tense up and absolutely forget how to laugh. Cruising along, with a few triumphant chortles from my jailer sounding from just above my head. I can only hope it jerks me off this time.
 

You are a real piece of work. You know that?
What's that name... the one you were trying to say?
Valet.
That's the one.
Gimme a cigarette.
Say it nicely. The name. The wearer of the gloves. Your number-one pal.
Valet.
Alright. Here... Want a light?
You know I wa-
I wanna hear it again.
Dammit...
One more time. With feeling.
Oh, f- Valet. Valet!
Thank you.
 

"So frustrating," Valet croons quietly.
That's when I realize I'm yelping. One of its favorite sounds. The hands are squeezing my arms, stroking my legs, and they know, oh man, the exact way to move on me.
"You just can't stand it. Driving you crazy..."
The baby-talk voice makes me laugh harder, and it comes out in the usual weird chirruping wail, steady and soft.
"It feels so goooo-ood."
And I want to shake my head, at least, but feeling the fingers at work - and responding - are too much for me as it is.
 

Let's get to it, buddy.
Uh. The next morning, it started acting like... you know. My clothes were all laid out. The gloves wanted to help me get dressed. That was weird.
Dressed, or undressed?
I can't believe you sometimes. I was a little kid.
Heh heh heh heh.
But it wasn't a very good valet, at first -
Whoa, there!
Because - it would apparently get a weird idea and just run with it. Suddenly it would... give me a wedgie. Snap me with a towel. And I'd leap at the damn gloves and try to pin 'em down. Pound 'em against the wall. Anything. We'd rassle... Get me all sweaty, clothes all wrinkled.
Sounds like fun.
Well, I guess those were, uh, good times. Pretty soon, though, it got too big for... Oh no -
Its britches? Or boots?
I lose either way. Oh, fuck.
You crack me up, amigo.

Moving right along, before you get too... inspired... The problem is that it took an interest in my homework.
One sec. You'd better not be planning to blame... well, anything on your faithful butler.
No. I'm not that dumb.
I hope not.
Just yesterday, I seem to remember paying it a compliment or two. Before you got busy -
Okay. Take it easy. Homework, you were saying?
Homework. Yeah. It got pushy. The first time, it was a Sunday. There was a book report I had to turn in the next day. But somebody decided I wasn't gonna get out of bed until it was done. I had to piss, and I mean, really had to piss. I was so mad. It kept pushing me back down, and sticking the pencil back between my fingers.
Did you finish the book report?
Yeah. I finished the damn book report.
So it helped you.
It was out of line. No matter how much I needed to turn in that paper -
Aw, now.
I told it not to pull that shit again...
And?
And nothing. It behaved.
Buddy. Don't go there.
What? It did. For about six months. No more... bondage. That was great.
You're asking for trouble.
No, I'm not. I'm just telling the truth. That was back when the fuckin' gloves didn't do anything like hold me down -
I warned you.
Naaaaaaa hah hah haaaah haaaaaah...
 

I go out to look at the sky.
Weary laughing...
A guy's laying on the ground, curled up in a ball. Looks like he made it about ten steps from a rusty old car. The driver's side door is still open.
"What do we have here?" Valet says innocently.
The guy's arms lift off the ground first. He doesn't stop chuckling.
"A helpless victim. Getting tickled. Aaaawww. He's suffering, looks like. Tickling that just won't quit, huh? Well, you've come to the right place. We can't have guys just laying around the yard, though. Somebody might actually figure out where you are. Try to rescue you."
He looks all around, miserably gleeful. I don't think he's seen me yet -
"But that's not going to happen. Not a chance. Because now, it's nothing but super-mega-tickling for you."
"Naaah n-nuh nnnnuh... nuh huh huh," he pants, as it floats him smoothly to the door -
"Yeah," it barks. "Torture chamber, dude. You're history. Endless fuckin' laughs!"
He flops around, suspended in the air. "Nooooooooo noooo noo noooooo -"
"Heh heh..."
In he goes. The door slams.
I stand there and look at his car, taking another drag -
Not fifteen seconds after he sailed inside, the door opens again.
"Hey," it says, sounding a little annoyed. "You comin'?"

On to Part 2

2000