"What... is... your... name?" the voice demanded.
I told it. Again.
"National Registry number."
Huh. That was a new one. "You can't look it up? Every record in the system for -"
"Say it. Right now."
So I did.
A cigarette flew to my lips. The lighter that followed it, and clicked to life, raced into position. I hadn't seen that before. Odd.
"One minute," the captor said - as if it was distracted.
"You're a friend of Gene's," it growled.
"I am Gene. Nobody... uh, nobody I know shares their Registry number. Memorizes their friend's number."
"Dammit." Weird, but that sounded like it was commenting more to itself than to me.
Not as confident. "You look a lot like somebody else."
"Tarrant."
A glove flew up and curled around my neck. "Tarrant who?"
"Brad Tarrant."
"Mistaken identity," it sneered. "You guys play that trick on other people, huh?"
"He's a snob," I protested. "I work at the U, his dad's a Dean or something."
"Friends. On the sly."
"Me and him? I've never talked to him. Not once."
The leather fingers tightened. "You sure?"
Well, shit. "Not that I can remember." Uh-oh. "I mean that. What use would he have for me?"
Something clicked by my right hand -
The cuff. Unbolted. Wow. I slowly lifted that arm. Then the other cuff was loosened too.
"Do not touch your ankle-cuffs," the voice ordered.
"Alright."
A pack of cigarettes glanced off my left arm. Ashtray, lighter, a couple beers and a few joints were quickly set down by my right hand. "Oh," the voice said - and a urinal bottle flew over from the shelves. It was all but dropped next to my left thigh.
"I gotta check something," my captor mumbled. "Leave the cuffs alone."
"Okay," I said, feeling like an idiot for even appearing to agree with it.
After a joint, I was on my second cigarette when a roll of white tape rose up and started unpeeling. Gloves pounced - but the phantom was more concerned with pinning me than doing what it had done for the past couple of days. One of its gloves held my cigarette between its fingers, as if it was a human hand.
The end of the loose tape was pressed against the top of my head.
Yank -
"Ow!"
"Two more samples," it said.
The tape was folded, and the other end came over my face. Gloves pried my mouth open. In went the tape - pressed hard against the inside of my cheek. Yank. That didn't really hurt too much.
A little pad rubbed the middle of my right foot. Light blue - and after I tensed up, I realized it was an alcohol pad. The carnage wasn't resuming yet. And down there went the middle section of the tape... pressed hard against the skin newly cleaned of oil and sweat and whatever. Peeled off more slowly.
"Alright," the captor said. Relaxing. "I hate to believe it, but you may be catching a break here. Get stoned - oh -"
A pint of bourbon, the big favorite of lowlifes, flew over next to my right hand.
"And drunk. That's an order. Leave the cuffs alone. Right?"
I nodded.
"You need to shit yet?"
Uh-oh. "C'mon, I think that's -"
"You get a diaper, now, if you'd... need it soon."
"No," I said quietly.
"Hmmmm... Catch." I raised my right hand, out of reflex - and a pouch was tossed to me. Beef jerky. "Which kind of candy bar? Nebula?"
"Anything other than Nebula," I said, getting my hand up and out again.
"Cobble - King Size."
Yeah. I nodded.
"Blaze up," it said. "Several belts of that booze. And don't make me regret freeing your hands."
"Much appreciated."
"Aaaa-aaah," the voice complained.
Someone shook my arms.
I groaned, and saw magic black leather gloves rousing me. It took about three seconds to remember the reason they were here...
By the time I tensed up, though, I realized my legs were moving. Those cuffs had been unbolted too.
"What the fuck," I said, to my own right leg.
A cigarette floated to my mouth...
"So here's the deal." The captor sighed. "A mistake was made."
"Uh-huh."
"I was after Brad. One of my dumber associates shadowed you."
So what, I thought. A few smartass remarks fought for the chance to be said first. I made myself breathe in, and breathe out. "Understandable."
"You look like twins, dammit."
"So he was... gonna get what you did to me."
"What I barely started doing to you."
Well, I thought, this attempt at an apology is probably no small deal - but I'm not out of the woods yet. In this case, out of the tickling dungeon... and that was oddly interesting. I am drunk, I reminded myself, and that's some fuckin' excellent weed. "A lot more of that. He's got it coming?"
"You have no need to hear why he's gonna get it. You're not him."
"What made you decide... the tape. Ah."
A glove took hold of the back of my neck. "You sure you're a grunt? Just a simple worker-bee?"
"Facilities," I protested, trying not to snort out any laughter. "Repairs, upgrades."
"What would it matter that I stuck tape to ya? For what reason?"
Oops, I thought. In for a penny... "Skin cells. Maybe some new hair, from my head. I wonder if you got some kind of blood sample from Dean Tarrant."
"Administrator Terrant. He's not a dean."
When no other bullshit remark was made, I was amazed to conclude that what I was hearing was probably right.
Gloves hugged my sides.
"Ooooh noooooo," I wailed - voice all but worn out - and then I just had to laugh. Slow, deep barks...
Magical fingers traced my soles again. More and more of 'em. My ankles were held tight.
Armpits, belly-button, balls, the back of my neck, my taint.
It was surprising, but I was too overwhelmed with reactivity I couldn't even begin to keep up with... after two or three incredibly long minutes. Just like before.
Gloves played everywhere.
I finally came - and then the phantom's leather hands got serious.
Smoking...
Break-time. Oh, wow. A water bottle floated over my chin - and waited. Panting, I gave it a nod. Invisible fingers took my cigarette, I drained the half-liter of water, and the cigarette was returned to my lips.
"Gene's gonna make a decision," the tickler said.
"I am?"
"Uh-huh. Something very rare happened here."
"Okay. You got me," I sighed, wondering if I was plumb insane. "I'm Brad Terrant." I started to giggle.
There was a wonderfully ominous five-second silence. I made myself quiet down.
"In... credible," it finally said. "No, you're not. But you've got what it takes to live through a whole lot more than what Brad is in for."
"More?" I groaned.
An unseen hand yanked my smoke.
"I got you. Possession, understanding - and motivation, I'd say, that we share."
It didn't sound... lethal. Hmmmm. I was scared - and thrilled. Too crazy.
"Let me go?" That sorta came out of me like it was a question.
Hearty, enthusiastic laughter came out of the tickler.
"Uh..."
"You just told me you actually were Brad. Your motive is clear. Whooooh."
"It is?"
Another thick bundle of leather straps levitated over to me. A ball-gag was on top of it. I am going to be taken away, I thought, staring at them. Kidnapped again.
At least as weird as that, another cigarette headed my way.
"It's a terrific day," the tickler said. "After all."
Begging wasn't going to help, I thought hollowly. The decision was already made. Staring at the gag didn't seem smart either. Totally screwed, but I was amazed. Sickly curious.
"We'll get Brad. One of my friends. He'll get what you've been introduced to, for weeks and weeks."
Oh, shit, I thought. Compare and contrast.
"But I think you'll still be feeling the excitement when he's cut loose. You're that fascinating. An exceptionally reactive grunt. Caught, staying caught... all mine."
For weeks? No, dammit, that was the other guy. I was in for more tickling than that. Unbelievable. "Please -"
"I haul you to a secret dungeon now, or I haul you to a secret dungeon, oh, let's say Monday night. Get your affairs in order, and then the fun continues -"
"Right now, or four days from now," I managed to say. "No other choice." It didn't respond. "I have shit to store. Bills to pay off."
"Rental house?" I nodded quickly. "You have any doubt I can empty that place, and the shit in the garage, in less than ten minutes? Stash it in storage, where no one will come across it - as I keep paying all your bills?"
"Aw, this can't be happening."
"You all say that. Gene, you don't sound doomed, even though you are. I got me a lowlife that's in for the fuckin' massage of a lifetime." It snickered. "Just sayin'."
"Lowlife," I sneered.
"And he falls for the bait again," the tickler chuckled. "Two little-bitty tattoos. You really think you're fooling anybody? Pothead? I see full sleeves in your future."
"No way!"
"See? Right there - you say 'no,' but it sounds like you're saying 'wow...' and you got a dumbass smirk on your face. You didn't even know that, did you? Sneaky smile."
"I am grinning," I finally admitted, shaking my head. "Shit. Well, fuck me. No way I'm going along w- uh, as if you needed me to. One-hundred-percent screwed."
"Yeah. Okay. Poor, poor howler. Now, we met here because of some moron's mistake, but I'm inclined to take a hint or two. You're interested, Gene. Damn right you are. So - you get hauled off now, or Monday night. Choose."
I closed my eyes. Tugged on the cigarette. You're drunk, I thought, good 'n stoned, no getting out of this tomorrow. Or a week from now, to judge from all those straps. Could be months of insane "fun." A lot longer than what I'd suffered through already? Starting tonight...
Or I could try running for my life. Sure, like this magical phantom was gonna let that happen.
Caught. Staying caught now, or caught again soon. Long, long time... caught and worked over.
The biggest challenge I'd ever gone through was happening. Somehow, though, my body was overruling my mind. Oh, it was on now.
That idea made me chuckle bitterly.
"Fucker. I'm already caught. Like I'm gonna get out of being tickled by an expert tonight?"
A few seconds went by...
The ball-gag floated off the pile of restraints.
2022