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- - 8 - -
 

Jamie came back from taking a leak. Zeke had provided a bucket...
* He's getting tired. *
* Of course he is. Wouldn't you be tuckered out? *
He didn't like that question too much. * So I guess it's naptime. *
* A whole lot of tickling for him, tomorrow? *
* A lot more. * He watched Tim pant. Stuck-up, he thought. Not done with you yet. I wanna rock on, real hard -
* Hey, * Jamie thought, * he doesn't have to rest up. Yet. *
* No? * Zeke asked.
* Got any coke? *
There was a pause. * The soft drink, or... coal - *
* Cute. *
* Hmmmmm, * Zeke said thoughtfully. * I can't make things without knowing about them, chemically... Best thing I can offer is, you think real hard about the effect you want me to give your snub-nosed boss here, and I'll see what I can do. *
* 'kay. * Jamie thought hard about a party he went to, years back -
* Er, Jamie... is the "high" what you want me to give him? Euphoria? *
* Oh. Sorry, * Tim said. He concentrated again, up all night, three days straight.
* That's... better, * Zeke said.
Tim's eyes opened wide. "What the... fuck-"
* Too much, * Jamie advised.
Tim relaxed again. A little. Hyper, blinking rapidly.
* Yeah, * Jamie said. * Gimme me some of th - whoooaaah! Fuck yeah! *
 

Del tweaked on it hard. He started snapping the restraints again.
* He likes it, * Kevin chuckled.
* That'll keep him going all night, * Zeke said.
* This just gets better and better. *
* He won't need breaks as often, either. *
Kevin just shook his head, but he had a smile on his face.
* You could whup him for ninety minutes... *
* Good, very good, * Kevin said.
* With, say... eight feathers. *
Kevin's smile got bigger.
Two more feathers materialized, pointing at Del's armpits.
And a pair was ready to start in on his thighs.
 

* ...since I can tell when he's really worn out, * Zeke was saying.
Jamie cracked his neck. * What? *
* I was suggesting that you let me monitor when he needs more stimulant - *
* Just say speed. *
* Ah. I can see how his body's holding up. From the inside. Inside his head. Let me take care of the drugs, dosing him properly... and you won't ever be tickling an inebriate - *
* A what? * Jamie said curtly.
Zeke paused. * I'll make sure he's getting high enough to make the tickling worse, all night, all day. Without overdoing it. *
* Yeah. That'd be great. *
* We both want him to feel the tickling as much as possible. Right? *
* Sure. * He looked at Tim. * Let's make him feel it now. Speedin' the night away. *
The grease canister floated over to him.
Tim couldn't watch. After a few seconds of slurping noises... the fingers went ballistic on his feet.
 

* Oh, hey. The speed does him up just fine. Ninety minutes... *
* Eighty-one left, * Zeke agreed.
Kevin swept the feathers down the edge of Del's back and back up again. Zeke, as usual, laid into his feet and belly, and around his knees, like there was no tomorrow. But there was tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that.
Zeke was vicious. With feathers. Kevin kinda liked that. * Wanna go for two hours? *
A couple seconds elapsed. * I suppose I could up increase the stimulant-effect. *
* Alright. That's a good long time. *
* Not hardly long enough, * Zeke said firmly.
 

Oh what color are its fingers, its fingers, its fingers, what color are its fingers, that tickle me yeah. What col-
Quit, Tim told himself. Gotta think. Gotta...
This damn speed.
After the fingers had been busy on his chest for awhile... a long while... Belly button, nipples, wandering into his 'pits, the random petting up and down his side...
What? he thought. This is... crazy. I've gone crazy, that's what it is.
But - the fingers.
Zeke is real and he's here and he's got me tied to this fuckin' bed.
It could take these fingers and run all over him. And it would. Yes, indeed. All over him, an infinite number of combinations and tricks. If he stayed this ticklish, it would never get bored. Never, ever, ever get bor-
If he stayed... this ticklish? Hell! This here's Zeke! Talkin' 'bout Zeke. Monkey with your head, tweak those brain chemicals. Throw a few more gloves on him. Make it pay.

He was less ticklish before he fell into this trap than he'd ever be again.
Zeke's trap.
Party of four, right this way.
Smoking or non? Oh. You smokers, your room is... somewhere. Very good.
And here's your suite, sir. Anything you need, fuck you. Stay put. Stay. You're gonna be waited on... hand and foot -
Oh. The hands were partying on his feet again. Party hearty. Party animals. Career criminals...
Zeke likes to party. Just needed an entourage. H'lo there, guys! C'mon in! Have I got a nightmare for you!
More fingers than there are places to put 'em.
One of Jamie's hands landed again, full of grease.
Tim howled his appreciation at the ceiling. Howl howl howl for Zeke there ya go.
 

* He's getting hoarse, * Kevin observed.
* He'll have no voice at all. *
Kevin wiped sweat off his forehead. * I gotta... make water. *
Something fell on the floor. He looked... a bucket, maybe ten yards away. He set his feathers down on Del's left tit and got himself a cigarette.
When he came back, he started to ask something. But he shut up quick -
The feathers he'd been using were in motion. Sawing across Del's nipples, racing round and round the brown part. He looked around, counting. Two four six... eight feathers.
He sat down on the edge of the bed and watched his feathers. They moved more smoothly than he could manage...
And Del, he was roaring his guts out.
Kevin took a drag and stared at Del's dripping face. He looked at the feathers... feeling sorta left out. But they were so good at tickling -
* Durn it. I'm sorry. Here, * and Zeke lifted 'em up, presenting the "handles" to Kevin.
* Uh... that's okay, go ahead. *
* Allrighty. * The nipple-torture continued.
So graceful...
And Del was racked with - pleasure.
Kevin sat there and smoked. Staring at the feathers he'd surrendered to Zeke.
 

It's going to finger me until it doesn't finger me any more, Tim thought.
It really, really... really enjoys this.
I'm tied down. Fur bed. Aw hell.
 

* Do you think... maybe, he'd feel it even more if he... couldn't laugh? *
The pause was much longer than usual. * If you mean, not permitted to laugh, at all... Hmmmm. But still allowed to grunt, and groan - I would think so. Only one way to know for sure. Say - he'd need even fewer rest breaks! *
* You think? * Kevin blurted.
* Three hours. Why not? The speed makes it possible. If we make him drink water, while he's getting tickled... It will take a while to train him - *
* Wouldn't need the gag then. *
Zeke sounded surprised. * Why, Kevin - the gag stays if you decide it stays! It goes back in whenever you want - *
* You're right. Let's do it. *

The gag disappeared. Del bellowed a couple more times, and then he was just breathing...
Eventually, he opened his eyes. All panicky.
"Ca-... can't... laugh," he croaked.
"Nope," Kevin drawled.
"T-tickle... ssstill -" He looked, and saw the tit-feathers, still keeping it real. "Oh uh n-n-no..."
"Oh yeah."
"F-f-f-f-"
"Feathers. Uh-huh. You want more? More are coming."
"No n-no!"
Kevin shrugged. "Toooooo bad."
"I... I f-... feel it. Feel -"
"You're feelin' those feathers, Del? Still ticklish, is that it?"
"Y-yuh -"
"Maybe... it's even worse, now? If you don't get to laugh your ass off? Is it worse?"

Del looked like he'd been sucker-punched. He blinked, and gulped. And he looked like his old cool self. "Nuh n-n-"
* Liar, * Zeke shouted, making Kevin wince.
* Yeah. I got that. * He flicked ash, and smirked at Del. The big guy stared at him hard. Hopefully. Kevin liked that.
"It's going to keep getting worse. Feel it twice as much, ten times as much, fifty times." He took a quick drag and threw the cigarette away... and he got in the way of his feathers. Zeke stopped 'em obediently and let him take hold. "And I want a big piece of that. Cocksucker."
He dove into Del's armpits and floored it.

And the big piece of shit didn't laugh once. He shivered a couple times, and rolled his head all around. Then he just shut his eyes. The sweat rolled off him.
* Is he really feeling it more? * he asked Zeke casually.
* Yes, I'm glad to say. He has no outlet now. No way to... let the reaction out. And he's starting to get the idea that the tickling will go on for longer periods. All night, all weekend. A lot of weekends. See how easy he's breathing now? *
* Yeah. *
* Yet he's beside himself. That's where I want him... and that's where he is. He... concentrates just as intensely - no! A little more intensely - on the feathers, and the sensation. Take it from me, Kevin. He's doomed. *
* And he can take more feathers now, I bet, * Kevin said.
* Well. Now that you mention it... * And four more feathers appeared. They went straight to work. * Yes, he can. *
* The night's young, * Kevin said with a snort.
* But it'll seem so long to him. Eternal. * The feet-feathers swept solidly over his soles, up and down, up and down. * And he's earned my enmity. How I'll enjoy hounding this wretch. *

 
- - 9 - -
 

* Man, * Jamie groaned. * I need a break. * He lifted his hands from Tim's thighs.
* He's holding up just fine - *
* Yeah, but I'm not. * A little burst of speed flared in his bloodstream. * Hey! Thanks... I guess. But I'm hungry too. *
* Of course. * And a table and chair appeared alongside the bed. * I just hate to see him not being ti-... er, getting any kind of advantage. After the way he's treated you and all. *
Jamie looked at his prisoner. * Shit, Zeke, what could you possibly be driving at? *
* Oh, just... keeping him miserable, while you eat. *
Jamie wanted all the fun for himself. But he had to sleep sometime. Zeke was able, and so willing. He couldn't hold Zeke off forever.
He could let Zeke rock on, while he slept. What a ride for Tim.
He chuckled. Tim opened his eyes. And Jamie remembered this one time his boss took a wrench out of his hand, at work, with a disgusted sigh. And the way he felt about three inches tall.
He looked Tim in the eyes. "Alright, Zeke," he said out loud, like it was a challenge. "Be my guest."

Tim shook his head wildly, yelling something. But - wouldn't you know it - his voice was gone.
A pair of hands appeared over his gut. They looked a lot like Jamie's hands.
* Uh... No. That sorta creeps me out. You know what a glove is? *
And the hands turned into black goatskin. Hollow...
Tim tried to scream.
* Well... alright. * And as the gloves loaded up with bear grease, Jamie added moodily, * But you know what "guest" means, right? His ass is mine. *
* Yours for the taking, whenever you want to continue, * Zeke soothed.
* Uh-huh. *
The leather hands rubbed grease into each other thoroughly, drifting down. Tim was more frantic than ever.
A smile crept over Jamie's face.
* I could use some help with the victuals, * Zeke said. * All I've seen first-hand is the critters that have come this way... *
The gloves separated and went smoothly... unstoppably... to Tim's armpits.
* Mushrooms, leeks, pine nuts - you boys bring anything in with you? *
* Check our pockets, * Jamie said vacantly.
Now I find out, Tim raved to himself.
Zeke slid its fingers around the rim of each armpit.
Tim arched and started to chuff air silently. Looking right at Jamie as he did. He stopped shaking his head, and closed his eyes, and hooted. Like a mime or something.

Greased leather began spiraling inward, with less speed and pressure than Jamie had used. But it was worse. Fascinating, somehow...
* Gum, something labeled "Baby Ruth", and what I take to be... jerky, * Zeke reported. * Jamie? *
* Uh... right. Make more Baby Ruths. And jerky, * he finally said. * Gimme a steak. I'll think about dressing deer, so you'll know what cut I like. *
* Let's see... * A plate appeared on the table. * Take a look. *
Reluctantly, Jamie tore his gaze away from the closest glove. * No... No. C'mon. What is this? *
* Flank? *
Jamie turned away from the bed. * Can't be. *
* What's wrong with it? *
The gloves lifted off, and met over Tim's chest.
* It's way too fatty, * Jamie said. He moved over to the table. * This stuff - * He went to poke at the steak, but remembered the bear grease. * Towel. *
Tim opened his eyes a little. The glove on the left pointed at his face... and jerked up suddenly. Like it was firing a shot.
A small white towel slapped into Jamie's hand. He wiped his hands...
Tim's eyes opened all the way. Zeke slowly made a fist, and pounded that glove into the palm of the other.
* This, right here. I can't eat this. *
* Sorry, * Zeke said uncertainly. * Think harder. Which memory do I want, here? * The plate disappeared.
* Uh... hunting trip. Two, three years ago. I got that twelve-point... First thing I ate off it. * He sat down absently.
Stricken, Tim watched the leather fist grind against the other, full of menace.

* Got it. How's this? * Another plate landed.
* That's more like it. Only cook it more. Medium well. *
The gloves separated slowly... and dove. They mauled his ribs. Efficient, quick - amazingly strong...
Tim jumped in the air and started to roar. Voicelessly.
* Here you go, * Zeke said.
* Yeah, * Jamie said. * I'm going to need a knife, and a fork. And try to make some steak sauce. *
Zeke raced from Tim's armpits to his belly and back to his ribs. Razing him. Squeezing, rubbing heavily -
* Thanks, * Jamie mumbled, sawing into his dinner. * The texture's not right... *
* Really? Are you sure? *
Tim howled without a sound. He looked at Jamie's back. He opened and closed his hands rapidly and tried to pound his head... on the thick fur.

Jamie chewed slowly. * It's tough... but it tastes right. * He started to turn his head -
But another plate showed up on the table. Piled with Baby Ruths and jerky. * Uh... that's good. How about those mushrooms? You know which ones aren't poisonous ? *
* Oh. Poisonous? *
* Yeah, * Jamie said mockingly.
Tim was trying to thrust his hips from side to side. The gloves bulldozed away... at the places that really fucked him up. They clamped onto his neck in the most sensitive place, and then they were creeping over the lowest part of his belly, and in a flash they molded over his hips and clenched. The feel of 'em almost took his breath away.
* Can you tell if a particular kind is safe? * Zeke asked.
* Naw. I used to know, but I forgot. Skip 'em, * Jamie said. * Think you could try making a potato? * He glanced over at the bed -
And the gloves were slowly stroking Tim's ribs. Gently. Only three fingers on each side, pausing before they started back up or down. Much lighter contact than a second before.
* I can try, * Zeke said doubtfully.
* I know. Mashed potatoes, * Jamie said, turning back to his steak. * Hard to fuck those up. *
One of the gloves made a fist and tapped Tim in the chin. He opened his eyes -
And they went for his meat. He tried to arch again -
They fuckin' covered his armpits. And his feet...

He didn't know how many gloves were power-tickling him now. Pulling out all the stops.
A bowl landed on the table. * Hmmmm, * Jamie said...
* Well? * Zeke prompted.
* Dry. You got the basic concept though. This gravy, it's pretty good. *
Tim slammed his eyes shut and gave up on wrestling around. He laughed for all he was worth. Even the gasps weren't loud enough to attract Jamie's attention.
* I have a surprise for you, * Zeke said modestly.
* Hey! Alright! * Jamie picked up the familiar bottle. * You made this, without ever having seen it? *
* Somebody had a flask... *
Jamie swallowed and smacked his lips. * You did good, Zeke. *
* Well, thank you kindly. *
The gloves tickled Tim so hard, he couldn't think. The fingers rubbed his balls and pumped the base of his shaft. The distraction was so huge, he hiccuped a couple times and all but stopped laughing.

He looked at himself. Twelve gloves on him now -
Fading. The black leather turned gray. Light gray. White.
Clear.
They started tickling again. Just as firmly... But they looked like they were made of glass.
And they disappeared. From sight. Rubbing just as savagely as ever.
The pair at his feet turned black again. Riding his arches like they were mating with him -
Tim couldn't keep his eyes open. It took too much effort.
Zeke threw another dose of speed at him.
After Jamie pushed the plate away, and burped, he remembered Tim. He turned in his chair -
Four gloves were flat against Tim's soles and insteps. Twisting. A glob of bear grease floated over to 'em, split and landed on his toes. Tim looked blissed out, even though he wasn't smiling. He'd laughed harder when Jamie was digging into those feet. The human touch.
Well, he'd howl some more, later. This was a rest break for him, almost. Look at his expression. Jamie didn't know about all the invisible gloves rocking away. He looked at the table -
His weed was sitting there. Rolling papers and everything.
He debated... Looked at Tim again. Hell. I got two more days to make him sweat.
* Maybe... just one, * he told Zeke.
Tim thought he was gonna come - and the gloves let go. But only there. They attached themselves to his thighs instead and started to knead.
He forgot how to open his eyes.
He forgot Jamie was even there.
 

The feathers had started taking by a swipe at Del's crotch. Eventually, he caught on and took a look -
Kevin was tickling the top of his feet. Hunched over.
Six feathers were going to town. Under his balls, on all sides of his sticky rod, dragging flat across the tip.
At the sight of 'em, he had to thrust.
* What was that? * Kevin said, pausing.
The feathers scattered. Back to his sides, and neck, and nipples.
* Maybe this Romeo was thinking about one of his many conquests. *
Kevin tensed up. * Oh really. * He turned around, and looked Del straight in the eye. * Zeke. *
* Yessir. *
* If he's that bored, let's give him some more feathers. *
* Done. * Four more. Getting right to it - knees, belly-button.
Del grunted - and Zeke hit him with more speed. He blinked a few times and rolled his head around.
* Good. * Kevin put a cigarette between his lips. * And... There's a special kind of mess I don't think you should have to deal with. Just the mess part. You follow me? *
* I think so... *
* He can have it all... except he doesn't get to come. *
* Consider it done, * Zeke said, with a happy sigh.
* I mean, just while he's here. Not permanent. *
* Kevin. I'm shocked. *
* Wha... why? *
* I would never do anything to... actually injure him. That's forbidden by my programming. Even if it wasn't, I wouldn't dream of doing anything that could possibly reduce the amount of tickling by even five minutes. Or the intensity. *

Kevin nodded. He took a couple steps. * Then... I think it's time to tickle an area that's been ignored for way too long. * He brought the feathers down slowly... and got Del's cock between them, and gently sawed.
Behind Kevin, he saw a pair of feathers lift up from his toes -
And they changed. Into hands.
White... gloves. Glossy. Full -
They looked like gloves a bride would wear. Only big enough for a guy. Del's eyes got real big.
"N- nnno," Del gulped.
They flipped him off, confident as could be. And they attacked his feet. He jumped -
"Oh, you like that, do ya?" Kevin murmured.
The slippery material petted his feet with all the tenderness of a jackhammer.
Inside his head, Del roared lustily. All-out. Gutwrenching barks. Kevin hadn't looked down there. He didn't know yet! Hands, perfectly smooth... gloves, rubbing the fuck out of his feet. "Nuh - nnnnh. Nnn... f- fffff-"
"Feathers, asshole. Oh yeah," Kevin said, with a laugh.
"Nnnh," Del moaned. Then he dropped his head and laughed to himself. No noise came out, but inside he laughed with a full, strong voice. He thought about the feathers, and what they felt like on each place... and roared with all he had. He pictured his cock - his cock - and the impact those feathers were making.
And of course he was obsessed with the gloves. He laughed hardest of all for them. His internal voice boomed, echoed...
It didn't make the tickling any easier to take. He kept doing it anyway.

When Kevin finally sat back and fired one up, ten minutes later, all he saw was feathers.
* Zeke, you got those cigs yet? I'm almost out. *
* And the cigars. *
A pack appeared in midair, over Del's feet. Kevin turned to take it. Turned his back -
The gloves reappeared and ravished Del's armpits. His head rolled a couple times, but that was all.
* What is this...? "Avenger"? Is that your brand?, * Kevin asked.
* Just a little something I whipped up, * Zeke mumbled, as if he was blushing.
Kevin studied the pack as he peeled it open. The design was pretty cool. Bars of a jail cell. PAYBACK, scribbled on the stone wall... Two bare feet, cuffed real nice. And four black gloves about to start in on the feet, one of 'em with a cigarette between its fingers.
* Whose big feet are those? * Kevin said with a smile.
* Those are Del's feet. His very own, bushwhacked, ever-ticklish feet. * The feathers - and the hands - went ballistic for a few seconds. Del convulsed. * And now that I know just how ti- *
* And what's - why is there a Z on the back of the gloves? *
* Z for Zeke. Oh, when I get him behind bars - and get these hands on him... *

Kevin lit one of Zeke's cigs off his own, took another drag, and threw his away. * Well... I'll smoke 'em. * He did, watching the feathers run ceaselessly on Del's feet.
Two more gloves started to fondle Del's sides. "Nnnnnn," he whispered.
Kevin didn't notice. * He don't get no cigars tonight. *
* You're the boss, * Zeke said amiably.
The gloves swept and poked and clenched.
* But he's jonesin' hard, I bet. Wishing for one, * Kevin said, making it sound like an order.
* When he's able. *
 

* Now, Zeke. Zeekie, * Jamie chuckled, * You wouldn't be messin' with my dope, now, wouldja? *
* Beg pardon ? *
* Extra strength? Slip me a shot of your own personal stash? Psychic THC? *
* Oh, come now, * Zeke said.
* Yeeeaaaaaaah, you did. *
* You did put away some whiskey - *
* I did. Yes, I did. But don't think I can't tell the difference. Sneaky Zeke. You are... sneaky. But I know my highs. There's the JD, and here's the green bud, * he said, gesturing real big. He took another toke.
Tim chuckled irregularly. The gloves had found a few more places that made him want to cry - and whoop, both at once.
And they were postponing his spurt. He was constantly aware of that.
 

* Hungry?* Zeke asked.
* Yeah, actually. * Kevin looked up.
Past the end of the bed, a table had appeared. With food and a chair and everything. The chair was at the near side of the table.
Kevin let go of his feathers. * Here. * The feathers started brushing up and down Del's shaft.
He stood up, and cracked his neck, and glanced at all the feathers. * Looks like he's in good hands. * He turned his back on Del, and walked to the table.
Two new gloves appeared and got busy. One polished his balls, and the other crept lower, and under...
Four new gloves tortured his feet.
Del's eyelids scrunched up. The corners of his mouth went up slightly. His fists unclenched.

It was almost a half-hour before Kevin finally set the whiskey bottle down. He lit a new smoke, and looked behind him -
Feathers. Same as before. He turned the chair around and took two of the feathers sliding between Del's toes.
Ten invisible hands were still going strong.

 
- - 10 - -
 

* Alright. I am fucked up now, * Jamie said. * Gimme some speed. * Zeke did -
Jamie sucked in air and forced it out quickly. He shook his head and stood up. * Okay. * He looked at the gloves, now squeezing the lower curve of Tim's ass. Shiny black hands. Mean-lookin' fuckers. * Pull those off him. *
Zeke did. But there were still forty unseen fingers on duty.
* Let me see 'em. *
The gloves became limp and floated over.
They were smooth. Even under the grease. * No seams, huh? *
* Chemically bonded. Glued, you might say, * Zeke said.
Jamie rubbed a thumb over the leather. * You got a pair of these in my si- *
His hands were empty.
And, just as suddenly - gloved. Hugged. Perfectly fitted, with no stitching. Nothing but smooth leather... right down to to top of his wrist. They were snug there too, without a cuff. Jamie wouldn't be able to pull 'em off. But that's what Zeke was here for.
* Wow. *
* I thought you'd want... full sensitivity, so I coated your hands with... "anti-perspirant". And then, grease. *
Jamie nodded, flexing his fingers. Very nice.
More speed raced through Tim.
The grease canister cruised over. It had been refilled.
 

Why the hell couldn't he pump?
Del has been ready for hours. Just couldn't thrust.
It would have driven him insane, if it wasn't for the tickling.
 

Tim snapped to attention. He lifted his head and looked -
Jamie was rubbing inside his legs. Knees, all the way up, and back...
His hands were black.
At least four hands were buffing his feet. He couldn't see 'em. Or the ones who were plowing into his sides. And his belly.
One was holding his cock, dragging its ghostly fingers across his scrotum.
Jamie watched his own hands intently.
 

Drunk, all the time. Well, just barely. But he knew the feeling.
Del felt like he'd put away a few shots. And a big line. All the time. He hadn't done anything except get fuckin' tortured, ever since he woke up. But he was still drunk, and tweaking. Speed could be slipped into the water bottle, but that didn't explain the drunk.
In a weird way, he had something going for him. It helped keep him from snapping...
He needed a cigar. More than he'd ever needed anything before. Sorta kept him grounded. The sight of one, the feel of it between his teeth, the smoke rings, all the comfort.
 

Tim opened his eyes again.
Looking around - no change. It was almost like someone had been shaking him, though.
What had he... Oh. He'd been remembering...
He tried to get it back. And he couldn't. He looked at Jamie again. He'd known him since... since... Zeke caught him.
So he tried to think about other stuff. What kind of work did he do? Did he have a family? The earliest thing he could remember was Zeke tying him up.
Well, I'll just invent shit...

But that didn't work either. He tried and tried.
He couldn't daydream. Apparently Zeke didn't want him thinking about anything else. Just the tickling, the stimulation, as hard as he could.
Remember when Jamie started, the first time? Now that was vivid.
And the six gloves turning into twelve gloves. Sharp and clear...
 

* This here is the tail-end of his second gallon of water, * Zeke told Kevin.
* Two gallons? But he didn't piss th- *
* Sweat, Kevin. *
There was a pause. And they both laughed.
 

* He's ready for more, * Zeke told Jamie.
* Few more minutes, * he thought back, holding in smoke.
The gloves still gripped Tim. They'd just slowed way down. He panted, and drank water when the bottle came. The gloves held still while he drank... and then they starting creeping again. They weren't going anywhere. Even during breaks. All ready to pick it back up.
* He looks pretty far gone, sometimes... *
* But he's right here, * Zeke assured him. * Ideally alert. He tried to, uh... "check out", mentally - but I put a stop to that. *
 

The water bottle went away, and the fuckin' gloves started squeezing again. This was their idea of a break?
Why couldn't they let him fuckin' smoke while caught his breath?
* Let's go, let's go, * Zeke urged Kevin.
* After this cigarette. * He looked Del over critically. * Isn't he going to get numb or something? Dull? *
* Normally, yes. But as luck would have it, I found out how to prevent it. The neurochemical switch is in my hands now. Locked on. *
* So... he can't get any less ticklish. Only more. *
* That's right, * Zeke said.
* Let's get him some more feathers. *
* Yes. Or... *
* Or ? *
* Maybe... a few gloves? *
Kevin brought his cigarette away from his mouth - and he had gloves on.
Black satin. They weren't sewn anywhere. Clinging, like... he'd dipped his hands in a vat of liquid satin. The cig sat in its usual place, against black cloth.
He turned his hands over slowly. Mesmerized.
 

* One more hour, * Jamie said, a long time after the last break.
 

Two and a half hours later...
* You doin' okay, Kevin? *
He looked up from Del's feet. * I'm... just tired. Let's catch a few Z's. *
* "Recharge" ? *
* Uh-huh. *
Another bed appeared.
 

* ...so he'll be rarin' to go. Two more days, huh? * Jamie yawned.
* Two long... feverishly fun days. *
* So put a bed right next to this one. And don't get any ideas, * he warned Zeke.
His bed had fur on it, too.
 

The gloves held on, but they hadn't moved in a while.
Del didn't even know if he could fuckin' fall asleep without smoking a cigar, it had been so long.
 

Tim felt himself fading, despite all the gloves. It was a forgotten dream come true.
Wild moments from the day kept replaying in his head.

 
- - 11 - -
 

They slept soundly... for three hours.
 

A glasslike wall appeared between each tickler and victim.

Tim woke up and looked around.
Del came out of a tickling nightmare with a jerk.
Then a thick gray frame appeared over the other side of their beds -
And suddenly, they were up in the frame. Vertical.
Del looked, and saw the cuffs holding him to the frame.
Tim saw even more black rope anchoring his limbs... and shook his head sadly.
Kevin slept on his back, totally oblivious.
Jamie had his back turned to Tim. He was dead to the world.
Del tried to stare at the clear wall behind him, and scowled.
Tim craned his neck, looking the wall over. Then he closed his eyes.

A shot of speed hit Del and Tim.
That drunk feeling washed through Del again.
At least eighteen gloves materialized below each of them. White satin for Del, oily black goatskin for Tim...
Too much, Tim thought wildly. This is more than anyone can stand. You hear me, Zeke? Overdoing it. This early in the game, or whatever. Humans, we can't take this much stimulation, without any mental defense -
Each pack of gloves stopped.
Six of them disappeared -
Leaving twelve to creep all over their tense bodies.
This confused the hell out of Tim.
Del was relieved. But not a hell of a lot.

The tickling started slow, too...
Fingers wiggled extravagantly. Slowly. For the first time, gloves plundered their calves, and their asses, and their shoulder blades. The fingers closed over their ribs from behind - and worked 'em.
Tim shook his head wildly, for about twenty seconds. Then he just roared away.
Del rocked back and forth, from an all-out headbanging frenzy to a limp doll. Sweat trickled off him in streams.
The gloves pressed in more heavily, roaming faster.
Fifteen minutes later, one hand relocated to each of their feet...
And pairs raced all over between belly and knees.
They all kicked it up another notch.

Tim thought, wordlessly, that he couldn't possibly take any more.
Other than the sensation, Del was only aware of a blackness -
A jolt of speed hit 'em.
The gloves tickled 'em harder still.

They were treated to a full half-hour of carnage.
Then, a quick nap.
Lots of water...

Soft brushes tested each spot from head to toe.
Feathers covered Tim.
Oiled goatskin made Del flop like a fish.
Tim was blocked from laughing for awhile. He smoked a cigar furiously while tickling sparks ravaged his body.
Del smoked a huge joint, holding in the smoke for involuntarily long periods, as a mild itch worked its way from one foot, up to his ears, and down to the other foot. Then six gloves nuked both his feet for awhile.
Tim guzzled half a pint of whiskey, and got Del's itch.
Del got a steady stream of endorphins, and Tim's sparks.
The ability to laugh was restored to both of 'em. Tim got the ball gag. And the gloves returned, at a more moderate clip, for another half-hour.
Tim was blindfolded and ponderously massaged with satin.
Del was blindfolded and laid into by icy hands.
A stiff-bristled brush scrubbed Tim thoroughly.
Del was allowed to thrust. Taunting feathers didn't make it easy for him to finish.
The brush got Tim off -
And the gloves returned for a hard fifteen minutes. Tim was far more ticklish after an orgasm.
Del wasn't... but he finally got a cigar. After a few soulful puffs, it was taken away, and the icy hands acquainted themselves with the "ins and outs" of him.
The feathers made Tim shoot again. Eventually.
The icy hands made Del get his rocks off again. Eventually.
They both got water, and a huge dose of speed...
And a dozen gloves tore 'em up again for a full hour.

This is my new life, Tim thought just before he passed out.

Del smoked another cigar as the satin gloves got his dick hard again. He watched 'em sometimes...
That climax was so phenomenal, even his hair throbbed.

They were cleaned up and positioned back on their beds.
Their bonds weaved around them, cinching smoothly.

They slept for three more hours.

On to Part 4

Back to Part 1

05sep2001