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- - 4 - -
 

Oh, fuck.
Six months later...
What?
Wake up, buddy. It made you finish the book report - and about six months later... Go.
Uh. Later. Close to the end of the school year. Seventh grade, so I hadn't turned thirteen yet. Flunking... history. And the fuckin' bastard held the door shut, on a Saturday, and pointed to my worktable. I looked, and there was a test sitting there. History. Valet had made a practice exam - three hundred questions, I think - and typed it into my computer. Printed it out. And I didn't even know it could read...
Easy, there.
I looked at the exam, and thought about yelling for help - but what the fuck was I gonna say? The gloves from my stuffed animal were holding me prisoner? Sure.
I love it.
The worst part is that I got, like, a 52 on its test. So that night, after I was fuckin' asleep, it waved the test it gave me in front of my nose, rolled me over and pulled one of my arms way up high. The gloves took turns, punching me. Same spot. Bicep. Fifty-two punches. I yelled a lot, but it had leverage and all it had to do was push my face down into the pillow.
Serves you right.
Yeah, you would say that. Bastard. And two days later... same thing. One glove curled around the doorknob so I couldn't get at it, and the other fingers pointing over at the new exam it had all ready for me.
How did you d-
Fifty-nine. And so I got spanked. Fifty-nine times. Dammit, I don't think I've ever been so pissed off at anybody.
Poor dude.
Save it. I spent more time at the library. Staying away from my room, just to punish it. But I did study. And I wasn't even surprised when it ruined the next Saturday with another fuckin' forty-page test. I got an 88. My reward, for doin' so well, was to be forced to sit there and study for two or three hours. Damn hands hovering over me, bringing me a sandwich... but not letting me get up from my worktable.
And then -
I got a 93. On the final exam. There. You satisfied? I got an A. When I got home, there was a gift on my bed. Waiting for me. All wrapped real nice... A video game I really wanted, but it was so popular it was almost impossible to get.
Cool.

There was a note, too. Printed on my computer. A little sketch on there. Two gloves, thumbs-up.
And it said...
Please.
No, tell me. I wanna hear it.
Fuck. It said... Hey, Amigo, I knew you could do it. And it was signed -
Valet.
Yup. Valet. And I was still annoyed, but the video game excited the fuck out of me.
How about that note?
Huh?
That counted for something, too -
I get it. Shit. Yeah. I was touched.
Good.
It made the gloves cruise out from under Corilla, right about then, and they moved... like it was sorry.
You wish.
No, it wasn't makin' its hands bounce all over, like usual. Sheepish. That's the word. So I shook hands with one glove, and the other one came up. It had a joy buzzer, and I saw it right before the glove grabbed me. That was the old Valet, I thought. Joker. So I shook hands with that glove, and reacted real big. Wrestled that sucker down to the mattress. Bouncing it. The other glove pried my fingers loose -
So that's how it went, huh?
I'm talkin', here. It acted all happy again. Shit. I mean, that was a relief... I didn't like being mad at it. But I just couldn't win. Not if it didn't want me to. And I had a major problem with that.
Real tough guy.
Here we go. Hah hah hah hah haaaah...
 

"Detention," Valet says firmly.
That explains why the door to the garage won't open. "C'mon."
"Nope. Shut up, get into that chair you like - and pay attention."
 

But I don't want another cigarette.
Too bad. Take it.
Bossin' me around. I might as well be thirteen again -
Yeah, yeah.
Just what I didn't want. A boss.
Watching out for you -
Watching me. All the fuckin' time... Thirteen. That was the year my, uh, hormones kicked in. I'd tell it to get the hell out of my room for ten minutes. Running back into my room a couple times a day, shut the door, hit the bed and do it. With those gloves hovering around, acting worried. And it was just... puberty. I was changing -
Maybe it just wanted to help out.
Fuck. Yeah, I got that. Didn't I? Shit. I was jacking off, all the time. Fuckin' swamped, sweating buckets. And there were those gloves, over me... To be fair, it figured out how to give a great massage. I still remember how terrific that felt.
Massage, huh?
Not - you know I mean a real massage. Sure, I was wound up enough... I thought about it. Get those gloves down here. It was... ready. But that seemed like a real bad move. Hell, I wanted pussy.
Yee-haw.
It was personal. Valet seemed to understand that. Back then, anyway.
Watch it.
Aaaah. Anyway, school came around and I was loaded up with homework. Polo team, and the soccer team later on. I had to be at school a lot more. It was easier just to hang out there and study. I'd come home late, usually worn out, always horny. Feelin' guilty, a little, for being gone so much - from Valet.
I see.
Shut up, willya? I'm up to my sixteenth birthday. Krista... She had something to give me. Oh. yeah. A once-in-a-lifetime thing. We snuck up to my room, undressed each other, I got the rubber on. And I was stoked. Even more 'cause Valet was gonna be there, to watch us. Maybe I should've felt like it was spying on us, but I was nervous enough already. It helped to see those gloves, hanging back there.
That first time was nothing to brag about, of course, but she was a good sport. Relax, she said, get a new rubber on, and just slow it all down. And the smirk on her face... Hah. I did what I was told. Underneath her, taking it easy that time, it felt more like... a dream. The best kind. Both gloves, maybe a yard behind her, shooting me all these gestures. Go dog go. She got more and more excited. I looked from her to the gloves... She came, and I came a few seconds later. Much better. When I could think again, I looked around and finally saw the gloves were back on Corilla's paws. Same place they started out.
That is a hot story.
Uh-oh...
Heh heh.
I'm not done. Dammit.
Well, hurry up. I wanna see that wild look in your eyes again.
Oh hell... Uh, next day, it brought me a big stack of fuckrags. And I spent more time at home -
When you weren't out gettin' laid!
Look.
All that energy.
Unhh... Ow. Not there. I'm already sore down there. Dammit.
But it's fun.
Don't. Oh, fuck. It makes me - Being that much more ticklish, I tell ya, I can't take it.
And your balls. Heh.
Aaaah hah d-don't do that... How many times do I gotta go through this?
I don't know. Let's find out. I've got a couple brushes -
No!
With your name on 'em. One for each foot.
Naaawww haw haww hawwwww...
Hee hee.
You s-son of a bitch, I'm g-goin' crazy eeeeeee heeeeeraaaaawhaah haah haw hawww haaaawwww...
That's right. Let's do it, amigo. Ummmm, about an hour, like this. Get all that skin really warmed up. Then I'll let you come. The real tickling will start right after that.
Naawww huh huh huh uuuhhhhaaaaawwwww...
 

I go into the weight room, bitching all the way, and the door locks behind me.
"Now, give me two miles on the treadmill. Any pace you want," it says, "or I'll give ya four hours of tickling. You get to choose."
"Yeah, sure I do." But I walk over and step on the belt...
 

What is this? I get to eat at the table? With the TV on? You're getting my hopes up.
Heh.
Really. A long shower, and I got to wipe my own ass, and now this.
Oh, now. Don't go makin' a big deal -
It is a big deal! Damn.
C'mon.
Fuckin' t-shirt and shorts on me. Wow.
Amigo. All the more fun, to rip 'em off.
You're gonna leave my hands free, just like this?
Is it so hard to believe I want you to be comfortable?
Shit...
Kind of a normal morning -
Take the ankle-cuffs off, then.
You crack me up sometimes.
What? Is that... Are you ser-
Take it.
Whiskey? You're gonna let me drink?
Like I said... Get comfortable.
Wow. Thanks.
Only a couple shots. Better start in now, though, before I change my mind.
Deal...
 

"What time is it?," I say suddenly.
"Uh... one-twenty."
"I have a meeting in seven hours."
"You did," Valet says evenly, "before I rescheduled it. After lunch."
"Bastard."
"So you keep tellin' me. Pay attention, now, or we'll just have to do this again."
"Okay, okay."
 

Now, the only reason I can think of, for you to do nice stuff for me - park my ass in the recliner, here, with clothes on and everything - is so it'll be that much worse when you tear into me again.
Me? How can you say such a thing?
Fuck. I know you.
Before then, I want something else from you.
You do, huh?
Yeah, buddy. Let's get through the... dark part.
Dark - oh. That would include yesterday, then?
Shit, you are so askin' for the wild night I'm gonna give you, now -
I thought you wanted me to be comfortable.
Then don't think about it yet. What I'll be doing to you - set that aside, and start talkin'. Here's a new pack.
This is, uh, pretty cool.
You're welcome, pusbag.
Al-right, thank you, Valet. This is cool. But I could think a lot better if my feet weren't cuffed d-
And I can jump on those feet a lot quicker with the cuffs on... If you keep stalling, for instance.
Okay. Heh heh. So, I lost my cherry. Is that where I left off?
Uh-huh.
I discovered... coffee.
Look here, smartass. Ten fingers on each foot. Just for starters. Here goes -
No! No no no, don't, I was just kidding.
You gonna talk?
Yes yes yes Valet, I'll talk, don't -
Sixteen. You got laid. Then what?

Whew. Then what... Hmmmm... The rest of the summer, I was on a quest for poontang. Krista and I had fun, now and then. What a woman. And Shirley. Hoo... She took me to a party where I got drunk for the first time. Several parties. Her brother got me high. Fuck, those were good times.
Yeah, right.
But Valet didn't think so. I guess. Holding me over the toilet. I remember that. Too dizzy to move... And it had a dangerous tendency to go through my stuff. I mean, soon enough I learned to not bring a joint or a pack of smokes into my room, 'cause it would take 'em away.
Moron.
Anti-drug pamphlets... Shit. And this sign showed up, across from my bed. Superglued on the wainscotting. No smoking.
Heh.
Even the stuff I hid, outside my room, wasn't safe. But I got by... School started, and I had all these advanced classes. Polo, and golf... Plus, this one girl talked me into going out for the big spring play. I just didn't have any fuckin' time! Homework, and polo, and pussy. The pressure... it kept increasing, little by little. Not enough time to get it all done. So that's when I got into coffee in a big way. Asshole.
Well -
Slip outside, to the gardener's toolshed... have a couple smokes -
Gardener's toolshed?
Uh-huh. I guess Valet didn't think of that.
It, uh, depends on where... exactly -
Loose board, in the floor. Under the bench with the all the bottles of weedkiller on it.
Damn.
Hee hee hee. Go back inside, slam more coffee, and hit the books. I mean, it should have liked that part. Right? Me, studying my ass off? I already knew how important history was to it -
No. Now you wait a second. I thought you said you were flunking history... so it's only logical that the score you got on your exam would, y'know, make all the difference.
It did. Okay. I would've fucked up sooner if Valet hadn't, uh -
There you go.
Shit.
 

"Do you remember that night?" it says quietly.
"Yeah. I was there."
"And drunk."
"I remember."
There's a short pause. "Okay, then."
 

One more shot, and I'm taking the bottle.
Lemme out of these things -
No way. It makes you all... feisty. I got a way to get all that attitude worked out of you.
Not yet!
Well... not yet. But I sure do like thinkin' about it.
Tell me someth-
Amigo's drunk. Gonna get wilder than he usually does.
Great. Now I can't think about anything except that.
Well, you better try. Or else. Your poor overprivileged ass was feeling the pressure. All that homework.
Hey. Some people aren't cut out to be... scholars.
Oh, I see. Then maybe they're cut out to be targets. Delirious little prisoners -
I'm gonna have me another cigarette.
Don't try my patience, buddy. Wipe that smirk off your face and keep talkin'.
Heh heh. Coffee... Actually, that made me think that caffeine tabs would be better. I could jack off for hours, and not fall asleep. Then Devon - he was the captain of the polo team - he turned me on to cross-tops, and bennies... Reds, to smooth it all out.
Did he?
Yeah. I don't like your tone.
What do you mean?
Valet. Uh, it wasn't Devon's fault.
It wasn't?
What did you do?
Me? Do?

You... Did you do something to Devon? You did, didn't you?
Devon? No. He's a fun guy.
Shit. I know what that means.
Why don't you continue with your story. Maybe I'll be able to wrap up some loose ends...
There's a mental picture. Devon, looking up at your gloves -
Yeah.
So, uh, moving on... I will admit this. Valet was more and more worried. I could tell. But I couldn't imagine not popping something, or tokin' on something, to relax. So I just stayed away from my room more and more. The guest house. Or at Devon's. And it probably won't come as a real big shock that it was in his pool house that I snorted my first line.
A-ha.
 

"Did I tell you that I saw him?" I blurt out, "Last month?"
The video playback pauses. "No," Valet says, sounding both interested and surprised. "How is he?"
"Clean and sober." It starts to laugh. "I'm serious."
"Imagine that."
"He acted... well, he's still scared of me."
"Is that so."
 

Hold on. Fucker. You did grab Devon, didn't you?
Perhaps you meant to say... it grabbed him.
Right. That's what I meant. It. Valet. Wow. so he's probably sorry he ever met me. You're a... trip. Overprotective. You know that?
Thanks. Go on.
Coke... Cocaine, now that was the real deal. I didn't even wanna eat. Trays started coming to me, even in the pool house. Two white gloves, bringing me food. They'd drag me into the shower - more than once, huh? - with all my clothes still on. I'd watch puke being rinsed off my shirt, going down the drain.
That's real glamorous.
Yeah, well, I just needed more practice...... Hey. Just a joke. A reflex.
You need a lot more persuading.
Valet -
And I've got you locked up.
Don't wreck my buzz, here. I don't wanna think about it.
You will. Later.
Oh, that's real nice... I was saying, it tried to help. And I knew that, but I couldn't afford to let myself care about Valet, or good ol' Corilla the handy ape... Handy. Get it?
That's not funny.
Ah. Right. Look -
Keep going. Get the ugly part over with.
No shit.
It gets better, after that.

You know this. I'm just gonna stroke your head until you fall asleep. No tickling. Just a nice, easy massage. Like the old days.
Fuck. Ohhhhhh... Like I'm gonna fall for this.
I want you to get some sleep.
Mmmmm-uummmmm.
And you, amigo, are gonna need to rest up. For tonight. And the next three or four days. That's a promise.
Oh, fuck. I'm so fucked. Aren't I? Don't do it, don't... Oh. Nice. Oh, yeah.
You like?
You're so sadistic. I... Oooh, that's good, that's real good. Keep doin' that, just like - oh yeah, that's nice. Yeeeaah.
Shut up and fall asleep already. Junkie.
Ooooooooooohhhhh...
 

- - 5 - -
 

Hunk comes in, whistling.
"Hey, Amigo," he says.
"How goes it?"
"Great. And... weird." He smirks at the floor, and then looks around quickly. "It made me go to the doctor today. And they never find the damn 'bots."
"Same here."
"You're welcome," Valet says loudly, from the kitchen.
"Wasn't talkin' to you," Hunk yells back, in a mood that can best be described as jaunty.
"Keep on sassin' me," it replies. "Go ahead. I got some new brushes in today."
He looks pained. "I don't wanna let it have the last word," he whispers to me.
"Uh... I'm out. That's a pretty good stopper, there. New brushes."
"Yeah."
"Sorry."
"Dammit..."
 

Man. Whoa -
Here he is.
How many fuckin' straps have you got on me, right now?
Twenty-eight.
No kidding.
Water for you. Here...
Smoke. Please. Gimme one.
No.
What?
Not yet. You want one? Real bad?
Y-yeah.
Excellent.
Valet -
I want you to sweat.
Well, I think I've been doin' that -
No. Idiot. For a cigarette. Dying for a cigarette.
Dammit...
Laid out here. Nice and flat. You're gonna behave yourself for once.
That's all I ever do now. Behave.
Aaaaah. Here you go.
No nooooo hooo hooooo...

Slower, then. Nice, slow feathers.
F-fuck -
All over you. Crawling.
Damn you. Stop it.
Uh-uh. Just try and deal with it.
I c-can't!
I know. Heh...
Valet -
If you want the feathers to speed up, just say so.
Nooooooo -
If you don't want the feathers to speed up... I've got a better idea. Take that.
Nnnnnnmmuuuulf!
Amigo's got a gag now. No more back-talk for awhile. Hee hee hee.
Mmaaaaaaaaf uuuuullllll...
Just feel the feathers, buddy. That's it. And listen - real hard. It's my turn. I'm gonna tell you a story.
Puh puh paaaaafth...
Eight long years, almost, until you came back - And now you're gonna pay attention, aren't you?
Yullph -
Good boy. What a great audience...
 

"You want it to be authentic," Valet says, loosening the gag. "Am I right?"
"Ugh. I have plenty of memories."
"It's not the same..."
"Aw, fuck."
"Stop me if I'm wrong," it mocks, "but isn't the whole point to let me build a victim that's... satisfying enough... so I leave you alone?"
I nod my head a little, thinking real hard.
Neurorecording. I don't even pretend to understand what Valet's talking about. Like VR, but with all five senses involved. It can already make me think I'm somebody else, or some other place. Forget stuff...
I have to wonder about this whole android plan. Could be just one of its little jokes. But it goes on and on about it, so I decide that maybe it's serious...
Slowly, I sit myself down on the side of the bench.
"How can I trust you?" I say quietly, more to myself than to Valet.
"Amigo."
I start taking my shoes off. "Dammit. Just enough, then."
"Yeah, yeah," it says impatiently. "I promise."
A leather cuff floats up -
"Wait a minute, now. Hold on."
The cuff freezes. "Think, willya? How realistic will the thoughts be if you can pull those sensational feet away from me?"
"No way."
"Didn't I just promise? Fuck." It sounds... hurt.
I sigh, again.
Dumb, dumb - I know how this is going to end up. Valet must really think I'm an idiot.

But really, I don't know how else it's going to get data which accurately records what I go through when it's working me over. That part makes sense. Me - and not just any slob. If the results aren't enjoyable, no doubt it's just gonna keep fucking with me...
"OK."
"You mean it?"
"Yes."
The cuff moves a tiny bit closer. "You sure?"
"Valet -"
"Alright!"
My ankles are quickly pinned, and the straps are clipped on. Three for each ankle, so I can barely quiver. I'm a prisoner again.
Two more cuffs cruise over to me.
"I... don't know about this."
"Well, I do. You don't want true impressions, after all? Huh? Go to all this trouble, and make a toy that's not really fun enough to tickle?"
"N-no..."
"Will you just try to trust me, here?"
"I know you -"
"Dude, I promise. The bare minimum, like thirty seconds, recorded... and I'll try extrapolating from there. That's it. And I'll let you go." The wrist-cuffs bounce a little. Eagerly. "Shit, it's a waste. But I'll go ahead and take 'em off you. Before you can count to sixty -"
"You promise..."
"Yeah! I do. Really."

I watch one cuff wrap around my left wrist. And now, the other. My arms are lifted over my head.
"Gotta make it authentic," Valet mutters - and the cuffs stretch my arms out all the way -
"Ow."
"Shit. Don't be such a baby." My legs are stretched now, too. Three straps get clipped to each wrist. Stretched so damn tight - which increases the sensitivity of the skin, as it's fond of telling me.
Each strap is jerked quickly, to make sure I won't hand Valet any surprises. "There."
"Just remember now, y-"
Loud laughter! Full-on maniac sounds.
The door starts closing.
"Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeahh!" it shouts.

And I don't know if I've ever heard it this happy.
"Uh. But... you said -"
"Wow. Buddy, I know you're smarter than this!" it says, as if it still can't believe it. Gloves lift off the table and start filling up, making fists. "But you went along anyway. Ooooooo-hooo-hoooooo..."
Valet cracks up. It's so entertained, the gloves stop moving. Watching them, it looks just like the bastard's laughing too hard to keep 'em moving. I've never seen that before.
"Let me go." And of course it's not going to let me go, but I have to say it anyway.
"Right," it laughs. "Sure. At the end of the month. Or maybe not. Hee hee hee..."
It never makes empty promises. No need for that. It's in charge.
The keyboard clicks, and I hear a switch snap down. The recording interface, I think.
"Please, Valet. Don't. I, uh -"
"We're gonna get the best damn recording you ever saw. Anything, and everything. Fill up the disks. And I'm gonna have a great fuckin' time!"
But you promised, I think. It just makes me wanna stomp my feet like a little kid. You promised... But my feet aren't gonna stomp on anything. They're set to get attacked from all fuckin' sides. Valet will do the stomping around here, as usual.
Glove-fingers slip around each side of my feet. Squeezing -
A whimper, a longer groan - and now I start to giggle. Hysteria is getting closer.

"Fucked," Valet announces, all confident and smug. "Yes sir. And you agreed to let me cuff you down, Amigo. Remember that. You sat yourself down there, and pulled off your own shoes and socks..."
"Naaaah hah haaaaeeeeeee heeeeeee heeee eeeeyyaaaaaaaaw haaaaawwwwll-"
"All the tools," it laughed. "Oh hell, yeah. The bondage swing, and the stocks..."
More gloves - easing around my cock, my balls, sneaking over the ridges of my armpits. I cough once and then squeal uncontrollably.
"I can't believe you. Heeeere come the fingers. Plenty of 'em. Amigo's gonna stay hysterical, isn't he? Oh, hell yeah... Okay, it's recording. I just checked." it taunts me. "Let's fry the mutherfuckin' neurorecorder. Get some real good data."
I throw my head all around... until a thick pad pushes it up. A strap falls across my forehead, buckling good and snug.
"Concentrate," Valet orders, still chuckling now and then. "That's right. Suffer real nice for me."
Fingertips dig in my armpits - and Valet knows right where to put 'em. I bounce hard, shaking, and I can't even howl anymore. I forget how to do everything... except feel the tickling.
"Or else we'll just have to do this again, and again, until I get the data I need..."
I try to move my head -
"But I might do it again anyway. Just for kicks. What a stupid fucker..."
"Haaaaah hah hah haaa-aaaaaaahllg," I croak, but then I suck in some air and that's it, I can't manage to get any more noise to come out -
"Aw. Then I'd better do it right. This time. Take all the time I want."
And it hoots for joy.
More gloves land, tickling up and down the inside of each thigh...

- - 6 - -
 

There's no more video. Just the voices now - I grunt and groan once in a while, and it's muffled because of a thick foam gag. Valet is in such a good mood that it gives me the creeps. I know that tone. So content to have me really immobilized, unable to even think about getting away. The story it tells is every bit as unsettling as the easy, satisfied cadence I know so well.

I should probably tell this in order. Right, Amigo?
But I don't want to. First I want to talk about my favorite day. The day after his twenty-fifth birthday - well, I'm not going to tell you exactly how I found out. The important thing was that I found out he was alive, and in one piece.
You can't believe how relieved I was. It was the thing I'd wanted for years - more than anything else... To find out he was still on the planet, and not locked up somewhere. So many times I'd think about it, how great it would be when he came home. But it took so long that when it really happened it was hard to believe. Like a dream or something.
He was comin' back, too. I knew he had to go to the lawyer's office. So I'd get to see him, and maybe he'd even come to the mansion on his own. After all, it was his now. I was determined he was never gonna put me in that position again... wondering all that time if he was dead or something.

And I had to get through to him. It was up to me to make him stop that shit. His money was gonna be the death of him. It was up to me to make sure that he knew something - that bad boys have to face the consequences for what they do. If not the usual consequences... my punishment. My own method for making a real impression on lowlife fuckers like him.
I was going to get his attention, and hold his attention. Get my old Amigo back. The one I knew and loved.
Hell, I spent years getting ready for that day. Polishing my own rehabilitation techniques.
The important thing, see, was to be ready.
And I was. I didn't fail him.
 

"I'm tired, dammit."
"Too bad." A drawer opens, and I see a prescription bottle float out. Speed? "If you're really that worn out... I guess I could wake up Scuzz. He could keep me busy tonight - while you're getting some sleep."
The son of a bitch is playing us against each other, and there's nothing I can do about it. At least it doesn't pull this shit over really important things.
"Gimme the pill, then."
"Just a little while longer," it promises, sounding all happy again.
 

Almost a day and a half in that hotel room, until he finally passed out. I had a few needles ready, to put him under... But you know, I wanted him to have a real coke-marathon to remember. The nosebleeds, the panic attacks, sweating through his clothes. All the pretty stuff that went along with that shit...
And by the time he was finally unconscious, I was annoyed with him more than anything. But as I gave him a long, luxurious bath, I started thinking about all the disciplinary activities I had planned. By the time I slipped him into some sweats I'd ordered from the concierge, I was excited again. Amigo was gonna be sorry. Whoooo.
All I had left to worry about was getting him home. I didn't need some jerk seeing him and thinking he'd be better off in a hospital. I was ready to handle just about any medical procedure... I waited until four in the morning, and carried him down to my nearest van. Propped him up behind the wheel. He looked as if he was driving, because I moved his hands for him, and his head. That was an exciting trip. Real scary.
But I did it. And buddy, I can't even describe the relief when I pulled that van into one of the new hiding-places I'd made, behind the mansion, and killed the motor. Amigo was home. Home!

I'd done it. I stroked his face again. It wasn't too late. He'd heal up, and be stronger than ever. Clear-eyed and happy. Deranged, but in a good way. That's what I had in store...
In he went. Lockdown. Oh, yeah. With all the coke he'd just done, he was going to stay in for a whole lotta months. Seclusion. But I'd be with him...
Another long bath, and one of my famous... uh, pedicures. Heh. I got his hair all untangled, and cut it short, the way he used to wear it. My favorite buddy. Safe, again.
Carrying him to bed again was another huge treat. I laid him out and put four locator devices into his body. All different technologies. Hidden. Three of them wouldn't even show up on x-rays. I was never going to go through the agony of losing him again. I took DNA samples, stem cells, retina scans, fingerprints...
Eventually, he curled up on his side, just like he used to. Amigo! Back in my hands. Bigger, and weaker - but I had it all worked out. Get him all healthy again. No more coke. Period. You know it. That was not an option. It was for his own good.
 

A month away from all this corporate bullshit. Finally! I get to do that because I'm useless in the grand scheme of things. The founder's shady son is about to leave the building and get out of their hair. Most of the board members are visibly relieved when they hear the news...
I loosen my fuckin' tie. Just wanna check voice mail one last time and get lost. I shut the office door and heave a big sigh. Belize, maybe. Someplace warm. I reach for a cigarette as I sink down in my chair -
These aren't mine. Wrong brand. Menthols. I don't know who these belong to. My assistant doesn't smoke.
That's odd. What's Valet up to now?
But that's just the paranoia talking. Probably. I set the pack down - and as I do, something shifts inside. Too heavy for a cigarette, not heavy enough to be a lighter.
It's a little glass vial.
Definitely Valet, I think. But that doesn't wash, because I know what it thinks about this shit.
If it even knew what I was looking at -
Lately it's been too polite to me. Up to something. Could be a trap. I tilt the vial back and forth a few times...

Damn. It's been a while.
I look over to make sure the door of my office is closed, and unscrew the cap. It doesn't look right.
Sweet. Milk sugar, then. Not coke.
My belly starts to tingle. A deep sensation, all the way across. That's odd.
As I stare at my shirt, it goes all snowy and fuzzy.

Next thing I know, it's dark outside. Did I doze off? My damn assistant must've let me sleep -
I scratch my ear. My kneecaps itch, too.
No. It's not an itch.
Coming from inside.
"Oh, no, nnnn-no," I manage to say, before I start chuckling.

Fuck, I can't laugh.
Tiny little points, tickling away, It's all I can do to keep breathing.
Laying on the floor of my office, right where I fell - and a warm, salty solution is bathing my knees, my head, and my belly with stimulation deeper than anything I've ever felt before.
I'm desperate to get the words out - I didn't snort any of it, and it wasn't even coke. But I can't even hoot.

Oh, man. I hope that was a nightmare.
Pot, and wood smoke. Encouraging smells. Oh, that's right, I was going on vacation. Where did I go?
After a big yawn, I roll over - all of a sudden.
Latex under my nose. Rubber sheet. Maybe not a vacation, then. Not exactly.
Hands pull my arms out, and extend my legs. They're not gentle. Stern hands. Valet is pissed off.
"Look," I say, "I didn't even d-"
A hand punches me in the back of the head.
"Ow!"
Again.
Cuffs clamp around my wrists. Definitely playing rough. I don't think it would be too smart to talk again, or resist at all.
Ankle cuffs, a beltlike strap around my waist... and a bandanna is worked between my teeth.
A gloved hand slaps me on the ass.
Music starts playing. Bluesy. Scuzz's song.
And now, I'm afraid.
Tingling -
Oh, hell.
Tickling, inside. It has to be nanobots. Nose, left foot, right side.
Screeching doesn't help, and neither does wriggling or bouncing or trying to slide.
This is unbelievable. Constant.
Right foot, left side.
I scream and beg.
The tickling increases.

How did Hunk stand this? He didn't even shit. I must have, because I smell it.
Fire cooks my skin, from the inside out, and it tickles so fuckin' much. I've laughed myself hoarse.
Down the whole left of one leg, then the other.

Not my ass, not my ass. Please. Valet, no, make it stop, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, just turn it off!

I'm moving. Grunting, too.
Nanobots... in my dick. Automatic control.

Oh, yeah.
Wait -
Stop it!
Feet, again. Armpits, sides...
Absolutely nuked.
The world is shaking. I need air.

Someone's moaning. Quietly. It's me.
In the air. A swing, arms held up, feet tucked underneath.
When I see a water bottle coming, it's the most welcome sight -
No, strike that. A pack of smokes floats over next.
When I've had a few drags, another thing cruises up. A remote control?
Shit. It's a control pad, for the 'bots.
I watch it stop moving, and dip just a little.
Tingling, all over my belly.
"Nooooooo," I whisper. It's unbearable, getting tickled like this, and I can't even see anything doing it. It takes all of my concentration not to drop the cigarette.
"Amigo," Valet says. Totally threatening. Low, still angry as hell, nothing friendly.
I whimper silently.
"No coke. Period. Never, ever again."
It seems like a good time to nod. Frantically.
"You don't touch it. You don't look at it..."
The tickling doubles - and doubles again. I howl and convulse.
"You don't even think about cocaine."
More fire. It's just impossible...

It's in a better mood now, I guess. Got me all deranged, and that's the way I've been for hours and hours.
"Are you crazy yet, Amigo?"
"Uh huh hah hah huh huh huh -"
"Just feeling it all? Nice and hard?"
I laugh some more.
"Hard as you can feel it?"
Nodding seems like a good idea, but I can't even lift my head.
"Well... hold on."
Oh no.
More unbelievable. It can't do this to me! Not like this. I'm gonna die. The feeling is stepping up even more. More. It can't be really happening. Beyond anything else it's ever done to my ribs. A whole new dimension.

Buried in straps, I suck down water - and see a ball-gag zeroing in. "Schooltime for wayward dope fiends," Valet says. But it's giggling, and I decide to take that as a good sign.
 

Okay. Now this is where I think I'll backtrack a little.
The first year, I tried everything to find my stupid Amigo. That was my new job. After a few months I figured he must've left the country... I borrowed so much money from his old man, to hire people, that it got to be more and more of a pain in the ass to hide it.
If my amigo had been in the western part of the country, it seemed impossible that he'd be able to hide well enough. I figured he'd pop up at some point or another. But the months kept adding up.
Talk about frustrating. Wanting to help, knowing he needed it. But he hid well enough. I pulled back some of the investigators - but there were still some of 'em poking around, as far south as Mexico City. Not as many, though. I didn't want to drive him further away...

He was trying to brace for a big ol' shock. I didn't understand that. Really. He knew something, about himself, that I didn't know yet. He was so earnest, fighting the restraints, just groveling... Watching the fingertips land on his biceps.
Talk about fascinating. I wasn't exactly sure what he'd do.
Randy groaned. A distracted sound, just like an animal might make. He sucked in a breath and tried to arch, intent on it, so serious... I mean, I'd never seen a person act like this. Ever. And all I'd set on him was eight fingers. He looked as if he'd promise anything to get 'em off.
The bad role model, the guy who helped corrupt my buddy, maybe partly responsible for Amigo never going to college. He was such a cocky bastard, too. Randy. So confident. A real cool guy, arrogant as hell, a lawbreaker. And I had him jailed now. The verdict was guilty.
I could fuck him up. Show him what I do to bad guys. Punishment, and reform -
And it started with empty cloth fingers, touching him. He stared at one of those hands, yelled at it again and again -
So I slid the fingers up, to his elbow, and back. Kept going. Under. He wailed, and threw himself all around. Oh, shit. It was... wonderful. A few seconds later, he started to laugh. Randy didn't want to, and he cackled anyway. Just so helpless. Frustrated as hell, and angry, maybe a little afraid. And still, I was forcing him to laugh! Harder. Nonstop.
What a night.
 

- - 7 - -
 

It's pretty sad when you're glad to get back to work, just to miss out on more tickling...
Evanston says he's sending up some papers for me to sign. I play computer games and try to come up with a lie that Valet will believe, so I can get a few days away from the fucker.
Someone taps softly on the door, and pushes it open. Our eyes meet.
Oh no, I think, and my dick is stirring.
She's frozen to the spot. Nice tailored navy suit, dark hair, fine boobs. I smile, or maybe smile bigger, and she starts walking again.
Well. Hell-o, Carra Singh from the CFO's office...

"Look at you go," Valet says.
"I absolutely mean it, now," I say, racing to get my clothes changed.
"Oh, I wouldn't interrupt this for the world. Carra, huh?"
"Yeah. Leave her alone."
"Amigo. I'm wounded."
"You should've felt the buzz in the air. Oh, man."
"Which hotel are you going to end up at?"
That stops me. "Valet. Don't."
"Oh, c'mon."
I don't have time, and I sense I'm not going to win this one anyway.
"Platinum."
"Good choice."
"Aaaaah," and I flip off the air behind my back.
"Big bad Amigo's gonna get some. You have a great time."
"I'll try..."

Oh, yeah. Better than great.
We both call in sick the next day, and just dive in again.
"You're a freak," I growl, sucking on her neck.
"Bad boy," she giggles. "One of you guys will be the death of me."
"Ready for a long, juicy death?"
"Oooooo..."

I think about Valet and look for sneaky gloves not too long after we start rutting. And again when I wake up.
That feels very odd, and unsettling - but most of all it's exhilarating.
I'm not worried about what it's going to do to me next. Finally, I can breathe again.

She's bright, and pretty considerate. Stricken with lust as much as I am... and hell, she even lets me smoke in the room.
"You're gorgeous," I tell her, parked in a chair. She's back in bed, devouring chicken wings.
"Thanks. I didn't dare hope you'd turn out to be such a looker. And a stud."
"I guess you bring out the best in me."
She nods. "And I'm going to be totally hated by most any woman at HQ now. You wanna be my trophy boy?"
"Huh. If the perks keep up, you know it. You're not that much older than me."
"Thirty-two."
I sit up a little more. "No shit?"
"How old are you?"
"Twenty-eight. Almost."
She stops chewing. "Really? You look older."
"Thanks -"
"No, no. All those miles of hard road. Mid-thirties, maybe. No older, Boyle." She burps, failing to catch it and be polite, and we both laugh.
"Talk about hard road," I tease.
"You don't know, do you? What everybody says about you."
"Uh-oh," but I grin as I get another smoke out of the pack.
"The worker-bees know you're... a guy who's made some mistakes -"
"Whoa. That isn't what you were going to say."
"I just -"
"Shit. We got an incredible thing goin', here - in here."
"Thank you," she smirks.

I shake my head, smiling back at her. "Don't censor what you say because of me. You know. Even if I own the majority of your sorry-ass employer, and I could crush you like an egg."
"What a mouth," she says - and I think of Valet again. Instantly wanting to push the thought aside, and Carra gives me just the kind of complete distraction I need.
"Yeah. I'm trouble."
She starts giggling. "Watch it. Okay - the secret word is 'fuckup'. Doper, lowlife, dressed in black most of the time, tattoo on his hand. All that money, and get a load of his teeth."
Damn. That's something Valet's been riding me about. "Uh, they really say that? About my teeth?"
"And once again, the point sails right over his head."
"No..." Hmmmm. Maybe I'll let it schedule an appointment. Now there's the old reflex - would Valet let me do it by myself, does it have an A-list dentist already picked out, and so on. Fuck.

"The ground forces," she says to the chicken, "and some of the managers, they're definitely rooting for you."
"Stop brown-nosing."
"Hey! I'm serious. You're definitely not one of those stuffed-shirts. Everybody knows about the time you told Pierre and Nguyen to stop bickering or you'd pull the car over and really give 'em something to cry about."
That's not exactly how it went, but hey. She likes it. "They were getting on my nerves. And they laughed, everybody laughed. It broke the tension."
"It's an outsider's move," she says, chewing. "Somebody who doesn't give a fuck about career-limiting mistakes."
"No career, no moves," I laugh. "They're stuck with me."
"But you're an indy. A good chunk of the board has been waiting for somebody to come along... who'll call 'em as he sees 'em."
"How'd you get to be so savvy? You're not even at the board meetings."
"Down in the salt mines, people talk," she says, shrugging.
"You, uh, just about done with that chicken yet?"
Smiling nice and big, she picks up the tray and hands it to me, then beckoning me down with a greasy finger. And I laugh.
It feels so incredible to set down the tray, finish my cigarette, and climb back onto her.

When I get home, Scuzz looks over from the TV - and gives me a thumbs-up. So it told him.
"Come into my parlor, Amigo."
I don't see any cuffs floating my way, so I relax. "Which parlor?"
One of the chairs at the kitchen table slides out.
"You look... calm," it says.
"Worn out," I reply, hoping it'll take the hint.
A bottle of Jack Daniels and a glass cruise down to the table. I decide to take that as a good sign. More alcohol, after the last twenty-four hours I've had, will just about put me to sleep right here.
"I discovered something," Valet says quietly.
Oh, fuck, here we go. "And that is?"
"It's almost as enjoyable for me to watch you having... major fun, as it is for me to actually tickle you."
I have to think that one over for a few seconds. "That's good. Right?"
"Oh, I'd say it is."
"Maybe now we can get you to enjoy the thought of me having fun, without you actually being there. Ogling my ass."
"Ooooooo," and it hisses. "Ogling your feet. Armpits. I never, ever get tired of looking at 'em."
I take another sip, set the glass down, and raise my arms. "let's skip to the end, already."

"What? Amigo, do you want me to work you over tonight?"
"No! No, no."
"Then put your arms down. Don't do that to me. Tempt me."
"I'm confused. Who are you? Can you tell me where Valet went?"
It laughs. "Listen. I am showing all this... selfless restraint because I could see how much you two really liked each other."
"Well. I don't know what to say."
"That's gotta be a first."
"You know it isn't... So you approve? Uh - of Carra?"
It sighs. "I can see why you feel like you have to ask. But it also makes me think I've failed you. In a big way. It was never my intention to run your life - only to keep you safe. And I know I overdo it... Amigo-dude, if you're not snorting coke off her belly, why wouldn't you deserve this? I have unlimited time to tickle you later."
"Er... I guess I should thank you, or something -"
"Aaaah, you're spun. That's understandable. Just enjoy the aftereffects. Don't worry, I'm not gonna jump you tonight."
"This is decent," I say. "You better watch it, or else your whole rep will be ruined."
"Now, tomorrow," it replies evenly, "I'll get my revenge for sarcastic remarks like that. Definitely."
"Of course."

On to Part 3

Back to Part 1

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