hmm... i was going back through your old posts and it seems like someone never did the voice recording lee tease he was supposed to do for failing NNN...
Sadly there was no more outrunning this so here is the tickle tease that @boytickler35 told me to record ages and ages ago for failing NNN last year. The embarrassing part wasn't even the fetish content, it was having to listen to my god awful voice but oh well. Hope you enjoy.
I've written another kidnapping foot/tickle story! This is a longer one, and probably not for the faint of heart or those who just like playful tickles. Reader beware!
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Henry couldn’t believe his luck. He wasn’t out looking for love or anything, but after a run in with a hot guy at his favorite coffee shop, he was starting to think his dry spell might be ending. It was a literal run in, too, where they both collided and spilled drinks on each other. Both laughed it off, and the guy (who introduced himself as James) said that at least he was running into a cute guy. This sent Henry’s heart a flutter, and Henry said he thought James was pretty cute, too. After a few smiles, an awkward blush on Henry’s part, and some small talk, both boys shared their numbers with each other. With a wink, James left, and Henry continued on with his day.
That night, Henry couldn’t get the thought of James out of his head. He looked at the number in his phone and decided to take the plunge and text him.
Henry > Hey.
It wasn’t the most original opening, but it was something. Now to wait for a reply.
And Henry didn’t have to wait very long. A reply came back within a minute.
James > hey u 😉 Was hoping Id hear from u
Henry > well this is me texting you!
The two text back and forth for several hours. Henry learned that James was also a student, lived nearby, and loved horror movies. They flirted, they chatted, and Henry paid no attention as the hour got later and later.
James > hey, this may sound weird, but can I ask you for something?? It’s okay if you say no
What could be weird? James seemed normal. How weird could this be? Henry was now worried he’d made a huge mistake giving this guy his number. He started silently berating himself for giving his contact details to someone he only met because they spilled coffee on each other.
But then again, they’d been having a great time texting so far. Maybe a little bit freaky would just keep things fun.
Henry > sure I guess? ask away
It took a few minutes for James to reply, and Henry was having kittens the entire time. Seriously, how weird could weird be?
Then his phone chimed. A new message from James.
James > no easy way to ask, but can I see ur feet?? cool if no
James was right. That was weird. Henry re-read the text over and over again. Why would he want to see that?
Henry > my feet??? Why?
James > idk I just like feet. I thought you were super cute and would have super cute feet. cool if no
So James was into feet? Henry figured it could have been weirder. It wasn’t super uncommon or anything. Maybe this meant that he’d be able to get some free foot massages from James? That wouldn’t be too bad.
“Okay…” Henry said to himself, “Let’s do this.”
Propping his phone up at the end of the bed, Henry peeled off his white Hanes socks and bared his soles for the camera. He set a quick timer and hauled himself up on his bed. Just to be a bit cheeky, he made a heart with his hands. Might as well flirt, right?
The camera went off and Henry reached over to grab his phone. He inspected the picture carefully. There didn’t seem to be anything special to his feet. Feet were feet. He stared at his own soles, trying to figure out what James might see in the picture. Would he like them? Did he have nice feet? A burning thought wormed its way into Henry’s mind…
… would James jack off to a picture of them?
That thought made Henry’s dick twitch.
“Okay… here we go,” Henry whispered to himself, clicking send.
A minute went by. Then two minutes went by. By the time three minutes went by Henry huffed and threw himself down on his bed. He blew it. He blew it with his feet. He figured he must have a really gross pair of feet if James was ghosting him after sending them. Henry was ready to crawl into a hole and die.
Then his phone pinged. It was a text from James.
Holding his breath, Henry opened the text with shaking hands.
James > nice. U got hot feet
Henry grinned at his phone. He learned something new today: he had hot feet.
His phone dinged again.
James > I want to see you and your feet in person.
Henry > Yeah Id like that too 😃
James > No like right now.
Right now? What was this, a booty call? Henry’s eyes scrolled up to the clock on his phone and saw that it was sometime after 1. This was pretty late, even for him. Did he really want to head out this late to meet up with a guy he’d met just this morning? Some really cute guy? Some really cute guy who apparently liked his feet?
Maybe the dry spell was coming to an end…
Henry > Yeah, okay. As long as you promise your not a murderer or anything 😛
James > lol no. I just really want to see u
It had been a long time since Henry had felt anything close to the connection he felt with James. If James wanted to get together tonight, booty call or no, Henry couldn’t say no.
James sent Henry an address and told him to be there in a half hour. It wasn’t far from Henry’s apartment, so he figured he could get there in 10 minutes or less. That was good, since Henry wanted to quickly jump in the shower and wash off the grim of the day before meeting up with James. It took 10 minutes to shower, 10 minutes to freak out over what he was going to wear, and then 10 minutes to arrive at the location.
This was when Henry was starting to have his doubts. This was not a good part of town. The streets were dirty, the buildings looked old and run down, and he could hear someone’s dog barking nonstop in the distance. The address was an old house and there wasn’t a single light on that he could see. His head was telling him that he should turn around and go, but his heart (and his dick) were telling him to keep going. James didn’t seem like a psycho while they were texting, but how well can you really get to know someone through text alone?
Walking up the creaky wooden steps, Henry resisted the feeling to turn around and just go back home. This wasn’t passing the smell test, but surely the guy he’d been texting all night wouldn’t lead him into something sketchy, would he?
Henry knocked on the door and waited. After a moment or two the door opened and a guy he didn’t recognise was standing there. He looked a bit older, maybe in his mid thirties, dressed in just jeans and a tee shirt. He just stared at Henry.
“Um, hey,” Henry said, looking around nervously, “I don’t know if I’m at the right place, I’m looking for James?”
The guy continued to stare at Henry then gave a little nod.
“Yeah, he’s here. I’m his roommate Rob. Common in, and take your shoes off at the door.”
Rob moved back to let Henry in, and feeling a little relieved that he was in the right place (creepy roommate aside), he stepped in. He closed the door behind himself and slipped off his sneakers as instructed, standing there in his clean white socks.
“Follow me, I’ll take you to James,” Rob said as he led Henry through the house. The place was dark, sparsely decorated, but otherwise it seemed like it was well taken care of. Everything seemed generic like it was a show home and no one actually lived there.
Rob led Henry down to the basement.
“James lives down here? Not like upstairs or something?”
The roommate paused for a second, looked back over his shoulder at Henry, made intense eye contact, and shook his head.
“No. He’s down here.”
After the awkward little interaction, Henry kept his mouth shut and just followed Rob.
Down the dark steps, Rob led Henry to a closed door with a lock on it.
“This is it.”
“You sure? Take a closer look.”
“Um, I don’t think so. The door is locked and it looks dark in there.”
Rob moved behind Henry so he could get a better look at the door. Henry’s hands went to the lock and he jiggled it. No way it was opening. This was all too weird.
“Look, I think I’ll just go, tell James - ACK!”
Henry was cut off as Rob grabbed him from behind and shoved something over his mouth and nose. It felt like some sort of rag or cloth, and it had a funny smell to it. Henry started yelling and flailing, kicking and screaming, but Rob had too tight a grip on him. Soon, to his horror, he found that his ability to fight was draining. His limbs felt heavy and his mind felt hazy. Eventually Henry passed out and slumped in Rob’s arms.
—---
Slowly coming back to consciousness, Henry’s eyes blinked away the fuzziness in his vision. He tried to roll and lift his head to see what was happening, to figure out where exactly he was, but there felt to be a strap going across his forehead, keeping him pinned down. He attempted to bring his hands up to his forehead to feel what was there but his wrists were similarly pinned above his head.
“Wha… what…” Henry managed to croak.
But being unable to move wasn’t the only strange sensation he was waking up with. There was something warm and wet on his feet. Whatever this feeling was, he went from his heel all the way up his sole and then engulfed his big toe. This hot moist sensation left his big toe and dragged across his other four toes, leaving them feeling slimy. Henry curled and uncurled his toes, trying to pull his foot away from whatever was happening. Instead he found his ankle was stuck in something. He tried to move both feet, but neither could move.
“What the fuck… what’s happening,” Henry groaned, finding that he wasn’t able to move any of his body.
“Ah, you’re awake. I thought I would enjoy these sexy feet of yours while you were out.”
Henry couldn’t see who was talking, but he recognised the voice of Rob. Fear was now settling in. He heard the scrape of a chair down by his feet and footsteps coming up towards his head. A hand trailed over the top of his bare feet, up his leg, over his hips, up his chest, before coming to linger on his neck. This was when Henry realized something that scared him even more: he was completely naked.
“You’ll have to forgive me. James, not his real name by the way, gave you my number. He knows I’m always on the lookout for hot young guys, and he thought you fit the bill. He did good this time, I have to say…”
Rob brought a finger to Henry’s chin and slowly started curling and uncurling it, his finger tip stroking back and forth. An involuntary smile crossed Henry’s lips as the light ticklish sensation hit him. The last thing he wanted to do was smile, but he couldn’t help his body’s reaction.
“Look, let me go, okay? I promise I won’t tell anyone anything. I… I told a bunch of people where I am and if I’m not home in an hour they’re going to call the cops. I swear to God.”
Rob chuckled and kept stroking Henry’s chin.
“No you didn’t. You don’t know how many guys say that, and no one ever does. You thought you were going to get laid and couldn’t hustle your ass here fast enough. You boys are all the same.”
Hearing that he wasn’t the first to be in this situation scared Henry more than anything else so far. Rob seemed pretty practiced in this whole thing and Henry had the sickening feeling he wasn’t getting out of here. He started to thrash as best he could, which ended up being little more than a wiggle on the table he was strapped down to.
“HELP! SOMEONE HELP!”
As Henry yelled, Rob started to laugh.
“Scream all you want. Not only are there no neighbors around here, I sound proofed the basement. We can be as loud as we want and no one will hear a Goddamned thing.”
“Please… just let me go…” Henry squeaked.
“No can do. You and me, we are going to have a lot of fun tonight. What you say we get started, huh? I want to make you squeal like a little piggy.”
Rob walked up to Henry’s head, right at the end of the table, and stared down at him. Henry pleaded with big eyes, but Rob just stared down with an expression that could best be described as hungry.
“Let’s see if you’re ticklish, huh? For your sake I hope you are…”
“T-ticklish? What do you… OH! HO HO STOP!”
Fingers were wiggling in Henry’s exposed armpits. He wasn’t the hairiest guy, but he did have some underarm hair and he felt it being twirled and played with. Delicate finger strokes were teasing the sensitive skin of his armpits. No one, as far as Henry would remember, had ever touched him here before (at least not since he was a very little kid). The sensation made his skin crawl. On one hand, he was laughing and had a smile on his face. On the other hand, he was completely at the mercy of this insane guy.
“Oh, this is good. This is very good…” Rob murmured as he attacked both of Henry’s pits. His fingers showed no mercy, attacking and wiggling, playing with armpit hair and skittering down lower towards his chest. He stopped suddenly, Henry’s body instantly relaxing after the torment, only for those fingers to suddenly, and violently, dig themselves right into the center of his pits. Henry’s whole body jerked and he howled. It was more screams than laughter. His whole body started to thrash back and forth, the restraints were holding fast.
Through screams and laughter Henry tried to bed, but it all fell on deaf ears. Rob was grinning widely, his eyes large and hungry. If Henry was able to see below the belt he would have noticed that Rob was rock hard the entire time.
The assault continued for several minutes before the hands pulled back from Henry’s armpits. By this time Henry was dripping with sweat, his voice already starting to crack from the strain of laughing. He lay there during his moment of reprieve, heaving heavy breath after heavy breath.
“Please… pl-please. Let me go. I swear… I swear I w-won’t tell a-anyone…”
Rob smiled down at Henry and wiped a few sweat soaked strands of hair off his forehead.
“Sorry kid. You’re my toy for now. And I’m not in the habit of letting my toys go. Let’s keep going, shall we?”
Henry hitched in a sharp breath when he felt Rob’s fingertips on his sides. His body shivered as those fingertips slowly slowly dragged down his sides, sliding over each rib. Trying to keep as still as possible, Henry closed his eyes tightly to try and ignore the small shocks these light touches were sending through his body.
“You’re a little on the skinny side here, kid. I can literally see each rib. Should we count them?”
“Fuck oo-FFF FUUCK! STOOOP!”
Henry barked as Rob’s long fingers stopped and started roughly attacking one of his ribs. The fingers worked into the rib, up and down, side to side, exploring for any and all sign of weakness. No one had ever touched Henry this way, so he was completely unaware of just how sensitive he was.
At first, Henry's laughter erupted in surprised bursts, his attempts to squirm away futile against Rob's relentless assault. His protests dissolved into helpless giggles as Rob expertly exploited every ticklish spot with precision. Gasping for breath between fits of laughter, Henry struggled to articulate his pleas for mercy, but his words were drowned out by the sound of his own laughter echoing through the room.
Rob, fueled by the contagious laughter of his captive, intensified his efforts, determined to extract every last ounce of personal amusement from the situation. Tears streamed down Henry's cheeks as he surrendered to the tickling onslaught, his sides aching from the uncontrollable laughter.
Finally, as Henry's laughter subsided into breathless chuckles, Rob relented, withdrawing his fingers with a grin of satisfaction. Gasping for air, Henry could only shake his head in disbelief at the unexpected turn of events. He regretted every single decision he’d made leading up to this moment, and cursed ever spilling his coffee on what he thought was someone with potential.
“Hmm, so ribs are good. That’s excellent, lots of people love ticklish ribs and it tends to bring in a higher price.”
Henry looked up with dazed eyes. He could barely focus on what was happening.
“Wh-what do you mean… higher price?”
Rob clucked his tongue.
“Nothing for you to worry about. At least not yet. But we aren’ done for the evening. We need to see how ticklish you are in the most important place. Any idea where that might be?”
Groaning, Henry just closed his eyes and prayed this was a bad dream. His entire body was tired and he didn’t think he could take anymore of this.
He listened as Rob walked further down the table towards his exposed bare feet. Henry, laying as still as possible trying to recover from what had happened to him so far, only paid attention when he felt a finger scoot up his right sole. The finger went from the base of his heel up to the tip of his toes.
“Hey, what?! No! Leave me alone!” Henry groaned. He knew what was coming next, but didn’t think he had the mental or physical fortitude to endure it.
“Back to the feet, huh? I tasted them earlier, but I didn’t check and see if they were ticklish. Should we find out?”
Henry curled his toes and tried to pull them away from Rob, but stuck as they were in a set of stocks, they weren’t going anywhere.
“You can fuck off is what you can do,” Henry said, trying to muster as much defiance in his voice as possible.
“Ha, still got some fight in you. Let’s see if we can fix that. First things first though, can’t have you fighting too much.”
A hand grabbed Henry by the foot, and he felt something being looped over his big toe. Whatever it was, it was pulled tighter and Henry felt his foot being pulled back. He tried curling his toes to protect his foot again, but found he wasn’t able to. The same thing was done to his other foot. Henry tried wiggling his feet away, tried curling his toes, tried using one foot to cover the other, but he wasn’t able to move.
“Listen… please…” Henry said, already feeling what little fight he had in him fading away.’
“The only thing I want to listen to is the sound of you laughing.”
Suddenly there was something cool and wet on Henry’s sole. Rob’s hands were back, but this time instead of tickling they were massaging whatever this slick substance was into Henry’s foot. In any other situation this would have been pleasant, but knowing that something terrible was going to happen to him, Henry kept as still as possible. The hands massaged every inch of Henry’s foot, rubbing whatever it was all over. On his heel, in his arch, between his toes, there was nowhere that the hands didn’t explore and rub.
“What… what are you doing?” Henry mustered.
“Just some baby oil. It helps make things nice and slick.”
Henry didn’t say a word as the same process happened to his other foot. He just took solace in having a moment of peace.
“Now let’s see how you like this.”
A shock tore through Henry’s body as something metal shot across his left foot, causing Henry to jump and spasm in the restraints.
“THE FUCK!?”
“Heh, metal guitar picks. You can wear them on your fingers. They make excellent claws. See?”
Four clawed fingers slowly scratched down Henry’s right sole. The reaction was immediate. Henry cried out, letting lose a peal of laughter and tried desperately to pull his foot away from the fingers. No luck. The fingers went from toe to heel, and back up again. After several passes the other foot started receiving the same treatment, sharp metal tips roaming up and down his soles.
“ST-OP! P-P-P-PLEASE! AAAAH HA HA! I C-CAAAAAN’T! I CAAAAAAAAN’T!”
“Oh yes you can. And you will. You’re totally under my control here, Henry.”
The hands, which started out moving orderly from top to bottom, not freely explored the spasming soles. Rob’s hands were digging into Henry’s heel, stroking his instep, digging into the sensitive spaces under Henry’s toes. The onslaught was intense. Henry’s head shook back and forth as his mouth hung open in a silent scream. Every now and then laughter would burst out of the boy, sometimes a scream, but mostly his mouth hung open in silent horror.
The claws scoured the feet for several minutes, all the while Henry was in pure agony. His mind couldn’t process all that was happening to him. The sensation on his soles was simply overwhelming.
“There we go,” Rob said, fingers finally coming away from Henry’s feet, “that wasn’t too bad, was it?”
Henry couldn’t answer. His eyes stung from the sweat that was dripping off his forehead. Even though the sensations had stopped, Henry still erupted in little giggles.
Henry lay there, arms sore from being tied over his head, his entire body glistening with sweat, heaving and puffing as he regained his breath. This had been the worst experience of his entire life, and all he wanted to do was go home, crawl into bed, and never leave the safety of his room ever again.
“Please,” Henry croaked, his voice hoarse from laughter, screaming, and yelling, “You got what you want. Just let me leave, please, I promise I won’t tell anyone. Please.”
Rob chuckled and pulled out his phone.
“No can do kid. You can’t see it, but I had a few cameras set up during our little session. I was live streaming the whole thing. Not only did people pay for the privilege of seeing you tickled, people were bidding on who will be the next one to own you.”
Henry felt a shiver go down his spine.
“What do you mean… ‘own me’?”
Rob continued to scroll on his phone, not bothering to raise his eyes to look at Henry. He answered in a bored tone of voice“There are people out there who love to own young ticklish guys. They keep their own stable of boys to tickle and torment as they please. Sometimes they trade them to other owners like baseball cards, sometimes they loan them out for special events, and sometimes, if the boy is really lucky, they let them go after a few years.”
All of Henry’s muscles tightened up and he tried his best to sit up. He struggled and pulled on the restraints with all of the might his tired and sore body could muster.
“Years?! YEARS?! No, no way! Let me fucking go now! I’m not going to let some other crazy ass guys do what you just did to me! No fucking way!”
Rob stopped scrolling on his phone and his eyes went wide.
“Ding ding ding, I think we found out winner. The price is right, and it’s a guy who’s bought from me before. You’re in for a real treat, kid, this guy makes what I do look like child’s play.”
All Henry could do was scream, yell, and fight against his bonds. When the same rag as before was pressed against his face, he fell into a deep sleep, and once he woke up his life was forever changed.
Ricky is used to drama with the drama kids but there’s a definitive, loud, and probably glitter covered line between drama and Carlos. He’s busy trying to think of a way to apologize to Nini for a mucked up date when Carlos comes in complaining loudly- he doesn’t really do anything quietly- that his feet are killing him and practice hasn’t even started. Ricky decides not to mention that a change of shoes would probably help a lot.
Seb looks up from the piano and replies, “If you would just let me massage them, you could skip the unnecessary theatrics and get to the important ones.”
“I’ve told you before, I can’t mess up my pedicure and no offense love, but you aren’t always the most careful.”
Seb shrugs, apparently they’ve had this conversation before and he knows when to give up while ahead, turning his head back to piano.
Miss. Jenn comes out and claps her hands to start practice.
On a break while he’s holding Nini, a look of pain crosses her face.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing.”
He keeps looking at her and she laughs, “My feet have just been killing me lately. I think it’s the new shoes. They felt okay when I was trying them on, but maybe I should have gone for something else.”
The break ends before he can reply but a plan is forming in his head.
He corners Seb after practice which… isn’t hard since he didn’t leave the piano and wasn't trying to run, either.
“I need a favor.”
“Anything.”
“Can you teach me how to give a foot massage?”
“Sure. Best way for me to teach you is to demonstrate it on you, and then have you copy after.”
“Ummmm...”
Seb offers a slight smirk. “We can do it after you take a shower?”
Ricky heaves a sigh of relief and they make the plans.
Two hours, one car ride and a snack stop, a shower on his end, and a slightly awkward realization that someone would be touching his feet and vice versa, they are in his room.
He’s barefoot, sitting on the floor across from a barefoot Seb who makes a motion.
Awkwardly, Ricky extends his foot and Seb says, “You just showered Ricky. They can’t stink.”
Seb takes the foot and makes a motion with his hand. “I need both.”
Ricky shyly extends his other foot and Seb says, “Wow, no wonder Costumes hates finding shoes for you: these are huge!”
He feels his face turning redder and Seb quickly backtracks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make fun of you.”
“No it’s… let’s just get on with this.”
“Right. So, the best way to start is with warm-up twists. You place your hands on either side of the foot, and then push one side forward and the other side back like this.”
Two big hands grab his left foot firmly and he finds himself jumping a little. Seb stops right away.
“You okay?”
“Yea- I just... no one touches my feet, guess it surprised me.”
“Alright. Then let's get started.”
Ricky finds himself relaxing a little as Seb gently twists his foot, listening to Seb’s explanation. “The reason you start with this is because it warms and relaxes the feet so they are more receptive to the rest.”
Seb continues for a few minutes, splitting his attention between both feet. It’s still pretty awkward, and Ricky thinks he makes it more so by jumping slightly when Seb switches to his right foot. Luckily, Seb doesn’t comment and seems fine with the silence.
“Once you finish the warm-up twists, and they really only need to be like two or three minutes per foot really, you can move on to a lot of things. It might be worth asking Nini what part of her foot hurts so you can target the pain.”
Wait he didn’t say, “I didn’t-” He doesn't want to sound whipped or anything!
“Were you going to give Big Red a foot massage?”
The junior wrinkles his nose and then admits, “You’re right.”
Seb continues, a slight smirk on his face as he says, “Since you don’t know what area is hurting her, I’m going to go through a few basic techniques to cover all your bases. We’ll start with arches, then toes, tops and sides, and end with some thumb work which sort covers everything a little bit.”
“Arches are pretty easy.” Seb goes on as his hands move back to Ricky’s left foot. “You hold the top in one hand, I usually grip the base of the toes like this,” Ricky feels the hand grip his toes. “And then you use the fingers on the other hand to rub from bottom to top.”
Ricky isn’t prepared for the electricity that shoots through him when Seb does it. He jerks his foot away without thinking about it. Then he realizes Seb is looking at him weird and he replies awkwardly, “Umm. My bad.”
He stretches his foot back to Seb’s lap who says, “Guess I’ll have to hold tighter.”
“Yea, try that.”
He holds his breath and tells himself he absolutely isn’t going to have the same reaction again.
Seb repeats the technique and Ricky doesn’t have the same reaction; he has an even worse one, laughing and pulling his foot back.
“Someone’s ticklish!” Seb coos and he pulls both his feet back preemptively.
“Alright, so I am.” He’s aware his face is a shade of red that would make Big Red proud. He thought he had grown out of this! He’s sixteen, he isn’t supposed to be ticklish!
Seb waves a dismissive hand. “Relax Ricky. I think it’s cute, and I’ll try to be careful. Maybe a firmer touch will help. Sometimes the softness of it is the bad part.”
He isn’t really buying it and Seb sort of shrugs and relents, “Or we could call it a failure and move on.”
The slight look of disappointment on Seb’s face stings, and with a reluctant sigh, Ricky re-extends his legs towards the farm boy. Seb looks like a kid at Christmas and says, “Great! Now. I’m going to do the same thing but be firmer. I’m holding the top of the foot,” Ricky decides not to mention Seb is holding it very tightly, “and I rub my fingers from bottom to top.”
Ricky bites the inside of his cheek and resolves not to giggle. He doesn’t. Barely. Seb repeats the process a few more times. The firmer touch helps. It doesn’t aggravate his nerves as much and he knows it’s coming and between the two, he manages. Seb switches to the other foot and repeats the technique and Ricky manages to hold out there too.
He almost breathes a sigh of relief when Seb says, “I think that’s enough. You want to try?”
“No.” He tries to pretend his voice didn’t crack as he clears his throat and says again, firmer this time, “No. Thanks.”
Seb shrugs and replies, “Okay. Now the toes. This one will help more depending on the song we are doing I think. When she stands on her toes, she’s going to feel it. Again, you hold the foot with one hand.” Seb does the steps as he explains, “And use your other hand to tug, twist, and pull each toe. You start on the outer and work towards the inner.”
Ricky takes about point five seconds to decide whoever designed this method is pure evil. Seb’s hands are warm, and if the last technique felt like it would be a bad idea on ticklish people, this one feels like it’s actually a tickle technique pretending to be for a massage. Seb basically confirms that when he gleefully mentions that getting between the toes is important too.
At this point Ricky is pretty convinced that Seb is trying to tickle him, but he also can’t really call the other boy out on it without admitting that he desperately wants to laugh his head off right now and he isn’t willing to go that far yet.
When Seb lets go, the giggling skater is relieved…only to find that he’s just moving to the other foot, and Ricky is forced to endure another several minutes of his toes being played with. All the while Seb explains the benefits to easing tensions in the toes, either blithely unaware of Ricky’s struggle or playing innocent.
“Tops and sides next,” Seb announces and he relaxes a bit. This is something he should totally be able to handle.
“So for this part, thumbs on the top of the foot, fingers underneath. It’s simple after that; rub circles around the ankle and then work your way from ankles to toes.”
Seb goes ahead, and Ricky starts relaxing a little. This isn’t too bad. Actually, it feels kind of nice.
The fingers on his soles shift down, and while they are doing it, Seb’s dull nails trace across his soles. Ricky immediately giggles and flinches, accusing, “You did that on purpose!”
“Did I?”
“Seb!”
The blond shrugs. “Sorry Ricky. I’m just surprised by how ticklish you are.”
His blush returns in full force. “I get it. Can we stop talking about it?”
Seb shrugs and replies, “I think it’s cute but if you really don’t want to-”
“I really don’t. Let’s move on.”
Seb hesitates and Ricky can’t help a slight groan as he asks, “What is it?”
“It’s just, I don’t think you’ll like the next part.”
There’s a hint of aggravation in his voice as he asks, “What’s the next part?”
“Thumb work!”
The giddiness of Seb’s tone combined with the manic gleam in his eye and the name of the technique has him bristling. “This sounds like-” He swallows the next part because despite how obvious his condition is, he still doesn’t want to say the word out loud.
Seb shrugs and replies, “I still think it’s cute, even more that you can’t say ‘tickle’, but I didn’t make up any of these techniques.”
“Somehow I don’t believe you.”
“Okay. Now give me your feet back.”
He groans as he re-extends his feet towards Seb again who grabs them and sets them back on his lap while explaining, “You hold the foot with your thumbs to the soles, fingers on the back of the foot and place thumbs on the toe pads-”
“Is that necessary?”
“Yep. Just relax Ricky, you’re more tense than when we started. Now, using your thumbs, stroke down.”
He doesn’t realize that while Seb is talking, he’s also starting, at least not until the electric shock runs from foot to brain and Seb repeats several more times. He’s giggling wildly as Seb continues, repeating the process on his other toes. He tries desperately not to pull away even though he really wants to, and Seb announces eventually that this part lasts as long as it’s pleasant.
Seeing his chance, Ricky bursts in, “It isn't pleasant!”
“And this is where I move on to the other parts of the foot.” Seb is enjoying this way too much as he then repeats the process on the balls of his feet, then arches, then heels with each of them tickling like mad and almost resulting in him kicking Seb a few times.
When Seb shows no signs of slowing down after working on his whole foot, Ricky reminds him through giggles, “SthEhIEllHoAHoTPlEAhAseANT!”
“Right. Sorry! So, now next time Nini’s tired after practice, Ricky Bowen can come in and save the day! Or maybe get kicked in the face if she’s as ticklish as you.””
“Seb!”
“Sorry.”
The smile he’s wearing isn’t sorry in the slightest, and Ricky meekly pulls his leg slightly and says, “Can I get this back?”
“Oh yea.”
He seems reluctant but does release Ricky’s ankle. The skater can’t pull his legs under him fast enough.
“Was it really that bad?”
Seb looks anxious as he asks and Ricky wishes he could say that it was but he’s afraid if he did, he’d crush Seb’s feelings. So reluctantly, he replies, “I guess it wasn’t.”
Seb still seems crestfallen but accepts his answer. They spend a little longer hanging out before he has to drive Seb home and he can’t help but wonder if he could get Big Red into this position, or even EJ.
The wheels start turning in his head and he might have a plan, but first he has to actually try this on Nini to make sure it isn’t a total bust!
Freddy grinds his teeth as Nevel smugly explains his current plot to shut them down and Freddy hates to admit it, but this time it’s air-tight. He actually owns the iCarly web page and there isn’t much any of them can do about it.
Carly and Sam stand with him facing Nevel. He can feel Sam fuming and he is worried she is going to commit a felony, which isn’t new. Carly just seems distressed and he feels sort of numb. They’ve been fighting Nevel off for years and now it all ends like this?
“I will give it back on one condition.”
“I’m not kissing you,” Carly says immediately and Freddy nods along because she shouldn’t have to.
“I don’t want a kiss from you, Carly Shay. You didn’t want one from me all the times I offered it to you and now you will rue the day!”
Carly looks a little startled and honestly, he is too. Nevel has been trying to kiss her for almost as long as he has been messing with them and now that he has the perfect can’t-be-refused opportunity, he turns it down? That is next level spite.
“So what do you want then?” His voice wavers a bit as he asks it and when Nevel’s eyes fall on him, he squirms a little.
The other boy crosses the small distance between them and brushes up against him as he announces, “I want you, Freddy Benson.”
His brain short circuits because gross, Nevel, and also why?
“Deal.”
Sam takes less than thirty seconds to decide as much, and his jaw drops. He looks at Carly, both in shock and for help but she shifts uncomfortably and asks, “For how long?”
“Carly!”
“Two hours. Less time than we spent together the first time we met.” Nevel’s voice is slick and persuasive, and it’s obviously working.
Carly looks at him helplessly and he feels sick to his stomach as she says, “It isn’t that long, Freddy. I had to deal with him on the shame date for longer.”
Nevel interjects and pushes, “Do I have a deal then?”
“Don’t I get a say in this?”
All three people in the room reply with a resounding, ‘no’, in unison.
“Wait-” he says, but the girls are already out the door, which Nevel closes behind them and looks at Freddy who feels empty- there’s a feeling of betrayal that he isn’t sure he knows how to deal with, combined with a dread of being left with Nevel.
“You still lose. iCarly will continue.”
It’s the only thing he can think to say because honestly, he’s confused. Nevel had them, and he gave it up?
The other boy ignores the statement, or maybe starts explaining in a roundabout way.
“I am going to start my own show, iNevel.”
Freddy rolls his eyes. “And you need a tech person.”
“No.”
Freddy blinks. “No?”
“No.” Nevel clarifies. “I need a partner.”
With a delicate finger beckoning, Nevel begins leading him down into the basement.
Freddy hates basements. He hates the one at the apartment, he hates all the ones he has been locked in over the years, he has no reason to suspect he will like this one.
Downstairs is a simple studio, it has none of the bells and whistles that the iCarly studio has. A simple camera, and a stage against an odd brick wall. It’s odd because it’s just there… The wall is in the middle of the room, so it isn’t load bearing. It seems like it was just created for a backdrop. On the wall is a mount of some kind. It looks a bit like a trophy plaque. It’s made of wood, but has nothing on it except three holes arranged in a triangle.
Nevel motions for him to follow around to the back side where there is a seat set very far forward and the three holes.
“Sit.” Nevel commands and Freddy frowns but does. Nevel moves back to the other side of the wall and then the holes get bigger.
“Put your head and feet in.”
Freddy grumbles but he does, a moment later sitting uncomfortably with his head and feet sticking out. He doesn’t think he has ever seen his feet this up-close before. Nevel shifts something and Freddy realizes the plaque opened somehow and is now closed around him.
There is a camera now pointed at them, the light flashing to indicate it is recording.
“Welcome to the first iNevel broadcast where today we have Freddy Benson, the tech wiz of the iCarly channel. Like many of you, I too watch the weekly live streams, and I too have had my fair looks at the feet of the most famous tech nerd in Seattle and like many of you, I also fell in love.”
Freddy’s brain freezes up because what?
“And even though I have them all to myself, I thought it would be better to share them with all of you.”
He notices a monitor set up where he can see the comments section of the stream which is blowing up. They… really like his feet. He feels his toes curl at comments about licking them and worshiping them, but tickling comes up the most often and that makes him cringe.
“So today, we are going to tickle these feet all stream. You post in chat what you want to see, and Freddy will get to pick what happens to his pretty feet.
“This is so messed up,” Freddy groans as the comments continue to fly.
It doesn’t matter what he says though, because it changes nothing.
“Alright Freddy Benson, pick. My fingers on your handsome feet for three minutes, or this brush for one minute?”
Nevel holds up a plastic brush. It’s intimidating, but Freddy growls. Nevel may have him here but he doesn’t have to play along. He isn’t about to make this easy for the punk.
Unfortunately, Nevel seems to have anticipated that and when it becomes clear he isn’t going to get an answer, Nevel’s fingers lay into his feet with no warning. The fingernails aren’t sharp, not like Sam’s when she scratches him, but sharp enough to light up every nerve in his foot as they pass over it, driving Freddy wild.
It feels like it takes forever for the tickling to stop but as soon as it does, Freddy feels the brush make contact and like lightning, starts thrashing and squirming. He tries to kick but the stocks that hold him prevent any movement of his feet other than flicking his soles up and down at the ankles which he does in a desperate but ultimately futile attempt to protect his poor feet from their tickling.
When it stops, he’s gasping for breath as Nevel asks, “Do you want your soles tickled by my fingers for three minutes, or your toes for one?”
“Soles-” Freddy gasps out, not even really thinking about the fact that he is consenting to the tickling just knowing Nevel will go for his toes otherwise and that can’t happen.
He does regret the decision right away though as the nails return to their abuses of his soles. Nevel goes so far as to grab one sole in a headlock and press his thumb and index finger together before drilling into the perfect center of his sole. He can’t even throw his head back to laugh because of the headstock and the total lack of movement adds to the heightened tickling.
“Toes for thirty seconds or brushes for three.”
Freddy pales and Nevel smirks and says, “Tick-tock Freddy Benson. You know what happens if you don’t decide.”
The brush was terrible, but his toes- this is impossible!
“Umm- toes!”
He curses himself the second he says it because Nevel does nor spare his toes at all, going right at them with feverish delight and even though Freddy tries to clench his toes, it isn’t anywhere near enough to dull the sensation to something manageable.
“Tell us a story about your feet, or tell us how you take care of them to keep them so perfectly ticklish.”
Freddy blushes and then says, “I don’t really think I have any stories about them being tickled so I guess I apply lotion before I go to sleep and after I shower.”
Not by choice, another of his mom’s many weird idiosyncrasies. It isn’t just to his feet, it’s everywhere and it does mean he doesn’t have dry skin like other people have to deal with.
“Really? No guy has ever seen these feet and given them a good tickling? What a shame.”
Freddy thinks Nevel might be flirting with him but luckily he isn’t given much time to think about that because the next challenge is up almost right away. “Feather five minutes or brush for three?”
“Feather.”
There is no way a feather is that bad and as Nevel brings the fluffy part down on his sole, Freddy smirks, confident for the first time because he feels it, but it isn’t nearly as ticklish as any of the other things.
His victory is short lived because Nevel flips the feather upside down and goes at him with the point of it which Freddy decides is like a worse finger nail. It’s pointer, and more tickly, there’s only one of them which is a relief but not much of one.
Five minutes of that give Freddy plenty of time to see the error in his ways and it feels like much longer than five minutes. Nevel is also cooing softly to him but Freddy can barely hear over his own laughter which is a mixed blessing.
As soon as it finishes Nevel says, “People must have liked my feather work because it might be back for round two. Feather between your toes for three minutes, or brush under your toes for the same time?”
“Feather?”
At this point he isn’t sure there is a right choice but once the feather saws between his squirming toes, he can’t help but hope this was the right one because that would mean something could tickle worse than this, and Freddy isn’t ready to contemplate that possibility.
Nevel doesn’t even have to do anything fancy… not that Freddy is sure there is a fancy way to tickle someone but Nevel just saws the feather back and forth and that is more than enough to keep Freddy in hysterics with milliseconds of peace when Nevel moves the feather to torture a different pair of toes.
“Brush under your toes for one minute or on your soles for five.”
Freddy groans because he is almost tempted to let it happen to his toes but that would be madness so he reluctantly says, “Soles.”
“Desperate to protect those toes, huh? I can’t wait to get at them more.”
Nevel’s teasing is the least of his worries as the brush bristles assault his soles and Nevel makes sure to cover his whole foot this time, heels up to the balls of his feet. Only his toes escape and while Freddy is happy for that, the rest is pure torture. Especially since Nevel never keeps things predictable, he always targets a new area or changes the speed just enough that any mental prepping Freddy tries to do is totally pointless and the five minutes feel closer to five years.
“Give Nevel ownership to your feet and let him sign them, or five minutes with the brush.” Nevel smirks when he finishes reading and taunts, “I know what I want.”
Freddy grumbles and says, “Sign them.”
“That isn’t it, Freddy Benson. You have something else you need to say.”
He wrinkles his nose and says, “Nevel owns my feet? You are doing what you want with them anyway, so what does it maThEHR!”
“Careful or you’ll make me write it sloppy and then I’ll have to start again.”
Freddy tries his best to hold still but the cool, damp pen tickles- maybe not worse than the brush or the feathers, but different and still terrible. There’s a few moments where Nevel blows puffs of cool air on his sweaty feet that have him ready to jump out of his skin as well. He has no doubt that tomorrow morning when he has to wash the message off that he will feel a rush of shame, but that sounds like a humiliation for later.
“Get your toes kissed, or sucked?”
Because apparently there is still humiliation for today to deal with. He has no idea which he is supposed to pick so Freddy blushes and says, “Kissed I guess.”
It sounds less invasive but Nevel seems all too delighted to work his way down the line and leave a sloppy, wet kiss on each toe which has Freddy giggling and feeling conflicted about not totally hating or being disgusted by the feeling.
It occurs to Freddy how messed up this is, making him pick what form of tickling he has to suffer through. He has to choose, or Nevel will do both, but there is a humiliating level of having input into it at all. Instead of a passive position, he is forced to take an active part in it. He doesn’t want Nevel’s mouth anywhere near his feet, and yet here is choosing to have his toes kissed by his nemesis.
“Fuzz thread? Or lickled?”
Freddy blinks for a moment and then says, “Thread?”
He has no idea what the thread is, but he can only guess which two words are put together to create lickled and he is all too happy to avoid that.
The thread Nevel pulls out is exactly as advertised, pink and fuzzy and for a blissful moment, Freddy fails to understand its true purpose because it doesn’t look like it will be too bad on his soles. And then Nevel laces it between his toes and he realizes what a grace mistake he made, “No- Lickle- lickle!”
But too late the murderous thread slides between his big toe and it’s neighbor and he can hear Nevel taunting him but can’t really make it out because the fluff between his toes sawing back and forth is new levels of maddening.
If he had been curious about what Nevel said, which he isn’t, he ends up getting an answer anyway in the form of Nevel’s warm, wet tongue on his soles and that, combined with the thread, nearly causes him to pass out from sensory overload.
Nevel gives him a break after that and Freddy feels weirdly thankful to his tickler for it because he isn’t sure he could have gone back into another round of it right away. Of course, it doesn’t last nearly long enough and Nevel is quickly giving him the next choice.
“Lotion or oil?”
Freddy frowns and then says, “Lotion?”
He isn’t sure what the point is but judging from Nevel’s look of glee, there is one, or he’s just happy for any excuse to touch Freddy’s feet. He pumps a generous amount into his hand and then starts to massage it into Freddy’s soles, taking more time than Freddy thinks is necessary. Once finished, Nevel continues by asking, “Fingers for five or brush for three?”
Freddy sighs and says, “Brush.” At this point, he figures the shorter tickle challenges he takes, the more chances he has for non tickle ones to pop up and that might keep him sane through all of this.
It’s only after the brush makes contact that he realizes what the point of the lotion is and that he’s made a terrible mistake because if the brush was murder before, the frictionless surface of his now lotioned feet make it doubly so. He had assumed it couldn’t get any worse, but the way the brush just slides across his soles with no effort at all means that it tickles even more and even faster and Freddy is howling but still totally trapped and now more ticklish than ever.
It isn’t even the brush, every tool is far more menacing with the lotion all over his feet and the only minor consolation is Nevel won’t put his mouth on Freddy’s feet over the oil which isn’t much of a prize.
Eventually, he stops paying attention to the options and just picks the first one each time, too tired to try to figure out which will tickle less.
Freddy is nearly hysterical when the stream ends, tears sting the corners of his eyes and sweat has dripped into them, making them sting. He feels the pressure on his ankles and neck let up and he pulls himself out. He reaches for his socks, eager to get them on and get out of this whole, humiliating ordeal when Nevel grabs his hands and leads him over to a couch where he pulls Freddy’s still bare and very tingly feet onto his lap.
“No way- no more tickling.”
The horror of saying the word has worn off after having it done to him for an hour straight but Nevel’s hands grasp his soles and instead start massaging them, leading to a groan of pleasure from Freddy.
“I meant what I said. People will pay good money to see these feet tickled. The stream made several hundred, and I will of course be sending half of it your way.”
Freddy’s eyes widen, both at the amount made, and the fact that Nevel is just giving him a cut.
“I told you. I was looking for a partner, not a tech person.”
He flushes a darker red as Nevel continues.
“I have had a crush on these feet for a long time, and maybe on the boy who owns them.”
Deflecting, Freddy replies, “You would have a crush on yourself.”
It’s awkward to use all of that to escape the idea that Nevel might have a crush on him.
He feels two wet kisses placed on his big toes and turns an even darker shade of red. “On air I might, but I don’t think so off air, at least not until you let me.”
The world is truly a messed up place if Nevel Papperman would be sweet talking him, and Freddy might be falling for it.
“You have a crush on Carly,” he says, hoping to get Nevel to admit this is all bull.
“I did. But then I saw you. At first it was strictly a foot thing but then I realized that you have something she doesn’t have, loyalty. Imagine if you gave that to someone who appreciated it, instead of trading you to me for two hours without more than three minutes of thinking about it?”
“I don’t know that you’ll be loyal.”
“I will prove it. Over time at least. You’ll see.”
Freddy rolls his eyes here and says, “Or I’ll rue it?”
Nevel shrugs. “I can’t say. I have no plans on getting revenge on you if you don’t, but you already know how appreciated you are by your friends.”
Freddy doesn’t have a reply to that. Nevel massages his feet until the phantom tickles are finally gone, he talks a bit, not seeming to mind that Freddy gives no replies. Some of it is about Freddy and is cute feet, which is awkward. Some of it is about things he realized he admired about Freddy, which is more awkward because it’s compliments no one has ever given to him. Mostly it’s idle chatter about nothing in particular and it’s strange that Freddy is more at ease here, knowing he can just relax and Sam isn’t going to come attack him or Carly isn’t going to need his help in some scheme.
Nevel lets him out shortly after and the whole way home, he thinks it all over in his head.
Freddy, sweaty but happy glances at the camera, his feet are currently being tickled, and he’s exhausted but they are over seven hours into the tickle live stream. Nevel’s set up a monitor so Freddy can watch the comments, something he’s come to love doing. It’s beyond anything he’s ever imagined, but honestly, he wishes it had happened sooner.
Ray thinks he handled the reveal of ghosts pretty well, especially considering those ghosts are in a band with his daughter, and have been haunting both the studio and house for several months. But they did also return music to his little girl and whatever their other faults, that wipes it away. Still, becoming the father of three teenage ghost boys is not exactly something he wanted to do at his age even though he and Rose had wanted more children.
He thinks he does it decently, all things considered. The boys don’t need to eat, but do need to sleep. He can see them without them performing, but only inside the house or the studio, which apparently is a new thing after the Orpheum performance, and in general, they are pretty open to parenting. They are strongest after performances, but the longer the band goes between gigs, the harder it becomes for Ray and Carlos to interact physically with the boys.
Julie says she thinks they were pretty lonely in life as far as parents go which might explain why the boys make his job relatively easy. Reggie is bright and cheerful, Luke is loud and brash but his passion is inspiring, and Alex is a calmer force to balance them out. Still, as much as he wants to get to know them, sometimes he feels there’s a barrier, besides the whole, ‘should be his age but died’ thing. Somehow, Ray always feels he’s a spectator, he’s allowed to interact with the trio, but it usually feels superficial. Even Reggie who spends more time with him than the others, Ray finds the boy talks a lot but says very little.
One time when he feels he’s really allowed to see them as they are though, is when they start getting rowdy. It’s like the barriers come down and Ray sees into their inner world. Usually their rough housing starts simple, one annoys the other in some childish way, the other responds childishly, but somehow, it always ends up in a tickle fight and Ray is somewhat surprised by both how ticklish each member of the trio is, and how comfortable they are doing it to each other.
In fact, as time has gone on, he’s beginning to think tickling is the point of roughhousing. It’s subtle, but over a few months of watching them, he’s learned that they have ways of signaling to each other that they want to get into something. It varies slightly from boy to boy and changes depending on the time but it always involves showing ticklish skin. Some of the things he’s noticed are Reggie or Luke putting their feet in someone's face, usually Alex, but sometimes each other. Luke will wear tank tops and lay down hands behind his head and close his eyes and wait for one of them to come. Alex is the least likely to do it but the most dramatic when he does, he’ll make a show of reaching to get something from the top shelf and stand on his toes, stretch his arms all the way up to the thing he’s reaching for, and apparently the other two find it irresistible. It’s amusing to watch these strange habits that form. He wonders if they were created in life, or after death for the boys. Whatever the case, Ray can’t help but feel that the moments are both intensely intimate and outrageously silly and somehow a clearer representation of who they are than most of his interactions with them.
Tonight, Ray is performing his duty as dad and bringing the band back from a performance. It’s almost two in the morning and he’s exhausted but the car ride is thankfully made easy but the boys being rowdy in the back seat while Julie nods off in the front. Their antics, mostly bickering, are enough to keep him up.
Arriving home, he sends Julie up to bed and the boys back to the studio to bed as well. He changes, checks on Julie and is about to head to bed when he spots the light on in the studio. With a groan, he goes over to investigate.
As he enters the studio, he fully expects to find the boys still riding high after the performance, instead he finds the trio all sitting at the foot of the pullout bed they insisted on sharing for sleep. All three are still dressed in their performance outfits, staring listlessly ahead of them. If Ray has ever seen a textbook adrenaline crash, it’s this. He clears his throat and all three shift their gazes up to look at him.
“Changed for bed?” He asks even though they obviously haven’t. He expects it will get them moving, or at least complaining about needing to move because the boys… are kind of babies when they are tired. Sometimes Alex will take over managing the other two but today it seems even the drummer is listless.
“Boys?” He prompts again. This time he does get a reaction, just not the one he was expecting. Reggie raises his arms over his head and it takes a minute for Ray to realize the teen is literally acting like a five year old and asking for help.
“You could use your words.” Ray offers but the glassy look in the trio’s eyes tells him he probably isn’t getting even that. Instead, he crosses over to the bed and fumbles with a few buttons on the red vest before getting it off the bassist. As his hand guides the material off, his hands brush against the teen’s side which gets a sweet giggle from Reggie. The other two look a little surprised, glancing over while an awkward, shy smile breaks out on Reggie’s face as he raises his hands for help with his shirt and under shirt. Ray obliges, this time tickling belly as he undoes the buttons earning more sweet giggles from Reggie and Alex, all the way on the far end, leaning forward to see what’s going on.
It’s a bit odd, to suddenly be pulled into their little game, even if only slightly and by accident but it also feels right, like he’s suddenly trusted with something the boys treat as important. Somehow, Ray isn’t surprised when after getting Reggie’s shirt off, Luke raises his arms. Luke a slight smirk is on his face, characteristic of his ever present cockiness. The dark blue vest is sleeveless and with Luke’s arms raised all the way, Ray doesn’t mind detouring a little as he buries his fingers in the teen’s underarms.
His fingers wiggle around causing the leader of the trio to burst out laughing and Reggie to snicker a little bit as Luke protests, “WaiAHAHitStAHop!”
“Don’t act like this wasn’t what you wanted,” Reggie replies with a laugh.
Ray tickles the teen a little more before moving down to the buttons of the boy’s vest. As he undoes them, he teases the belly underneath causing giggles to bubble out of Luke and the boy to squirm back and forth, but never tries to escape for real.
Buttons undone, Ray finally pulls the vest off the middle teenager and looks at Alex. He watches the gears turn in the drummer’s head for a moment before he lifts arms over his head and Ray moves down the line to undo the couple of buttons he has done and as he goes to help the teenager out of it, he places a few well aimed pokes causing him to squeal and squirm.
Collecting the jackets and shirts, Ray is thankful that ghosts can’t sweat and that all he has to do is make sure the clothes get hung up to avoid wrinkling. For now, he lays them out on the piano and turns back. Somehow he isn’t all that surprised when he finds them sitting in their undershirts making no move to help themselves. The dull looks that greeted him are totally gone. Luke has a slight smirk on his face while Reggie looks shyly optimistic and Alex ever so slightly embarrassed but mostly eager.
“I guess we’re going all the way, huh?” He says knowing the answer.
He gets three eager head nods in response and he crosses back to the bed and says in his best serious dad voice, “But then you promise to go to bed?”
“Totally,” Luke answers for the trio without hesitation but Reggie and Alex nod to back up their leader.
“And you know I’m not going to make this part easy on you?” He checks to be clear. These boys… are like Carlos to him and he would have no issue doing this with Carlos at all, but he wants to make sure they feel the same way. His worries are unfounded though, the trio nods eagerly, Alex biting his lower lip in anticipation and Reggie bouncing up and down causing the bed to creak while Luke draps arms over the other two boys, still smirking and Ray gets the feeling that this is Luke showing off like he would when trying to get one of his bandmates to tickle him.
Starting with Alex this time, he teases the blond’s belly and sides as he works his hands under the hem of the shirt and as he’s lifting it over the drummer’s head, he makes sure to tickle his way up the sides and into the blond’s armpits causing Alex to giggle and squirm. Off to the side, he can see Reggie practically vibrating where he’s sitting and Luke’s moved his arms behind his head. He pulls the undershirt off the rest of the way and passes Alex a T-shirt the drummer had left out for this. Alex slips it over his head.
Luke has a smug look on his face but Ray has plans for him and passes over the guitarist to Reggie who by now is bouncing in anticipation so much that Ray is a little worried for the pull out bed. As soon as he’s standing in front of the bass player, Luke pouts and Reggie’s arms shoot into the air so fast, Ray almost gets punched in the face.
Like with Alex, he works his fingers under the hem of the soft material and works it up inch by inch over the pale skin, causing Reggie to giggle madly as he does so. His knuckles really get into the scrawny upper body and mash against sides and ribs causing Reggie to do a strange hiccup-laugh as air doesn’t move through him properly… if at all? Whatever the case, it’s both cute and weird and suits Reggie wholly.
Ray takes the shirt, which upon inspection without the sweat and grime of a concert is pure white and clean enough to sleep in. All well, it would deprive the boys of part of their game. He passes Reggie a shirt and then turns his attention to Luke. The boy in the middle wears an expression that clearly says he feels jipped, arms folded across his chest and lip set in a pout.
“Impatient?” He teases gently.
Luke is still semi pouting as he replies, “You didn’t need to skip me.”
“Well I am here now if you’re ready.”
He feels a little bad but he thinks what he has planned will make up for it and Luke finally lifts his arms up. Just like the past two times, Ray starts lifting the shirt up and tickles at the belly and sides but unlike with Alex and Reggie, instead of teasing the singer slowly, he is pretty quick about pulling the shirt up, and catching it on the boy’s head leaving Luke hands up, shirtless and with a nod from Ray, tickled on three sides as Alex and Reggie get in on the poking and prodding of their leader.
It’s a good thing Luke is boxed in on all sides except back on the bed because otherwise, he probably would have fallen off. Ray doesn't think he’s seen such a strong reaction from the boy no matter how many times he’s seen him tickled. It’s comical, endearing too, in the way he tries to escape. Ray does have to let up though, and at his signal, the other two do as well and Ray gets the shirt the rest of the way off the teen.
Once Luke pulls a shirt on they look at him expectantly as he stands up and says, “Alright boys, bed time now.”
It’s probably mean to tease them like this but it’s also fun to see the scandalized looks they level at him. He decides to push it a little further and asks, “Was there something else you wanted?”
“We weren’t done yet.” Alex says innocently, as if he isn’t asking something very silly.
“Really? You boys are out of your nice clothes so we look done to me.”
“Not- Ray we’re still- there’s still”
Reggie’s inability to express his feelings in words does tug at his heart strings and he’s ready to give up the little farce when Luke, ever impatient, extends his legs and places his sneakered feet on Ray’s knees.
“Ohh you wanted help with your shoes as well.”
“Ray-” All three boys whine in unison.
“Alright, alright.” He chuckles as he steps back, causing Luke’s feet to fall to the ground. He pulls up a chair because unlike them, he’s starting to get old and needs to sit down. As soon as he does though, he gets three sets of feet vying for space on his lap. When they finally all get settled he starts unlacing the first shoe his hands fall on which ends up being one of Luke’s. The Vans are already loose and Ray could just as easily slide it off but decides to go through the process anyway. Luke squirms in anticipation and when Ray finally pops the shoe off, he finds a pure white ankle sock. Luke wiggles his toes with a smirk and if Ray didn’t already have plans, he’d give the cocky teen exactly what he’s looking for. Instead he works to get off the footwear from the other five feet. Reggie’s boots take him two minutes each which has the bassist snickering and the other two giving their bandmate dirty looks.
Once he’s left with six socked feet, and a lot more space without the footwear in the way, he finds a foot, Alex’s and slides the sock down to his heel. The drummer watches in anticipation, the other two in interest, as Ray stops at the heel and then starts fluttering his fingers across the peachy-pink foot lightly, inching the sock towards the toes while Alex dissolves into laughter and starts shaking his foot back and forth, the sock slides off faster as a result and it doesn’t take too long for Ray to reach the teen’s soles which he tickles to even greater effect, ever inching up further. By the time he reaches the balls of Alex’s feet, the boy is a laughing mess and when he finally reaches the base of the toes, the sock falls off and Alex giggles for a few moment, wiggling his bare toes as Ray moves on to the next foot which happens to one of Reggie’s. He starts exactly the same as he did with Alex.
The bassist bobs eagerly in his seat but within seconds, dissolves into helpless laughter and by the time Ray reaches Reggie’s arches, the boy is leaning fully on Luke as he half begs Ray to stop and half begs him not to stop. The sock falls off just as Ray gets to the balls of his feet.
Then it's on to Luke but guitarist for some reason decides it’s time to tough and struggles to keep his foot still. Ray assumes it’s to try to prolong the tickling for as long as possible after watching Ray tickle the socks right off his bandmates. Still, even as Ray starts scratching at the heel, he knows it’s only a matter of time because try as he might, Luke is squirming slightly and it only gets worse the closer to the arch he gets and like Reggie and Alex, by the time Ray reaches the balls of Luke’s feet, the sock is on the floor with the other two.
The trio obviously expect the same process again, but Ray is feeling indulgent and the boys are at their strongest right now anyway so he might as well take full advantage. Getting each of the remaining socks to their heels, he gathers up all three feet and starts tickling across all of them at once. It clearly surprises the trio and they end up leaning against each other at the foot of the bed laughing their heads off as their feet squirm around in his head lock, pushing against each other to avoid the tickling, and then to get back into it. Luke’s comes off first, partly aided by Alex’s toes getting caught on the dangling fabric and ripping it off and he can hear Luke attempt to vocalize a protest but Ray’s totally unconcerned with it. Alex’s comes off next and then Reggie’s not long after in the ensuing chaos.
He could have stopped then, but he has three captive feet attached to an equally captive audience; at least he thinks. Either they aren’t trying to poof away, or can’t concentrate enough to do so but he’s betting the former over the latter. In any case, he pushes until he glances behind him and finds them looking exhausted despite still laughing. He releases their feet and they collectively flop backwards into an undignified pile on the small bed, legs tangled together and bodies mashed next to each other. Ray grabs the blanket and spreads it out over them. He could do what he used to do with Carlos and use tucking it in as an excuse for some late night tickles, but the trio now looks well and truly exhausted and as much as he’s enjoyed himself, he is as well.
“Good night, boys. Sleep well.”
He pats their heads, earning a content sigh from Reggie, a soft hum from Alex, and something between a snore and a sigh from Luke.
Turning around, he heads towards the door and as he flicks out the light he calls back a mock warning of, “You had better not oversleep tomorrow. Equipment needs post performance checks. If you aren’t up at a reasonable time, I know just the way to fix that.”
He doesn’t need to see to know that the trio is smirking and possibly making plans for how to goad him into joining their game tomorrow. It feels like a step forward in the relationship and one that makes him happier than anything.
Monty pauses in the locker room, he’s just finished a post practice shower but he can’t help stopping to look at his toes as he wiggles them. It’s stupid, and gay, but the past week, he’s thought more about his feet than ever, and more about tickling.
Fucking Justin.
This is his fault.
The few seconds Justin had tickled his feet were- nice?
Gay.
He can hear his father saying it in the back of his head. Well, it’s nicer than what his dad is saying and yet, it was? He doesn’t remember being tickled as a kid. If anyone did it, it would have been Abuelo who died when he was four. Sure, he knew it was something that happened. He even knew a lot about it. Justin was incurably ticklish, he knew that before tickling him senseless. He also knows Bryce is ticklish and that the topic is strictly off limits, and he only knows it from a few drunk girlfriends who tickled Bryce and then talked about it. Jeff is ticklish and has engaged in tickle fights in front of them with Leila.
There’s also some weird rumor going around about Clay Jensen and tickling and he doesn’t know and doesn’t want to know what that is all about.
So yea, Monty knows about tickling. Probably knows more about how ticklish the guys are than most people know about their friends just cause he listens but he’s never thought of himself engaging in it or being ticklish. Justin was… gentle. It tickled and was annoying and if Justin ever said something, Monty would deny it and make good on his threat, but…
“If you think any harder, you’ll burn a hole in the floor.”
He looks up and Diego takes a seat next to him, freshly showered and dressed, probably waiting on him for a ride.
“Yea,” he replies, slipping his feet in a pair of slides and hauling his bag up. He can’t help noticing Diego’s feet dressed similarly and sneaking peeks at them.
Apparently he isn’t very subtle though cause when they get in the car and drive out of the lot Diego says, “So feet?”
His brain short circuits and he babbles for a moment before Diego says, “I kind of saw you checking mine out. It’s cool. Just surprised me.”
Collecting himself, he scoffs and says, “I’m not. And that’s gay.”
They stop at a red light and Diego, son a bitch that he is, actually puts his feet up on the dashboard and Monty tries not to look, but he can’t help it.
The idiot moves them when the light changes and prompts, “Nothing wrong with gay. So, when did you find out?”
Monty grunts but Diego is persistent if nothing else and at the next red light they are back up on the dash.
“Week ago. Bryce’s party.”
“Cool. So when we get back to my place, what do you want to do? Is this a worship thing? Or do you just want to look at them? You tell me.”
“Wha-”
Diego offers a smile, the same one that has girls swoon for him and says, “You didn’t think I’d make you figure this all out on your own did you?”
He did. Not necessarily because of Diego but cause he usually assumes he’ll have to figure anything out on his own. Still, Diego’s offer is… nice? Monty wouldn’t trust anyone else but Diego? Diego he can trust.
“Tickling?”
He’s mortified to actually say it. Hearing it spoken out loud instead of in his head is somehow utterly humiliating and immediately his jaw snaps shut, almost biting his tongue literally.
Diego’s feet rub together awkwardly and Monty can’t help but think how cute they are doing that, dark brown tops sliding past a lighter mocha colored bottoms - fuck-
“Shit. Well I guess I did volunteer. Just don’t be mad if I kick you.”
“I-” his voice cracks and he flushes again and then mutters.
“I didn’t catch that.” Diego says.
Monty almost snaps at him for making him repeat it but he didn’t say it very loud… for a good reason… he tries again.
“I want you to tickle me.”
“Oh…” There’s a moment of awkwardness before Diego recovers the situation and says with a cheeky smirk, “Well, I will be mad at you if you kick me.”
Monty chuckles, it’s nervous, but his heart is pounding. They arrive at Diego’s and go in. Shoes off at the door has always been a rule in the Torres house. It always did… something to Monty, but he never really understood the rush of butterflies. Now he guesses he has his answer. Fucking Justin.
They have the house to themselves for at least an hour before Diego’s mom gets back and Diego wastes no time bringing Monty to his bedroom in the back of the little house.
It’s familiar enough territory except that when they get in, Diego pushes him back on a bed and Monty can’t help quipping, “I hope you don’t treat the ladies like this when you bring them around.”
Diego, now at his feet, gives him another smirk and says, “Usually they get to tickle me, it’s nice to be on the giving end.”
Monty’s brain can’t exactly figure out what to do with that information, he can see Diego’s feet, beautiful-
An iron grip tightens around an ankle as Diego says, “Eyes over here, Romeo.”
Monty’s eyes slide up to his best friend’s face. Diego looks confident as he says, “I’m going to tickle the crap out of you, and I’m not going to stop unless you give me a safe word, better figure out what that is now.”
“I don’t need a safe word.” He fires back. It’s fucking tickling. It’s-
Dull nails scrap across his sole and he howls with immediate laughter. The feeling is indescribable. When Justin did it, it was light, easy, fun.
This is ruthless and Monty’s body moves on its own trying to escape the tickling. Diego keeps it up for a minute, but to Monty it feels like an eternity before he stops and says, “So want to reevaluate that comment?”
Monty grumbles and says, “Football.”
Diego gives a crooked grin and says, “Alright. So I’m going to start up again and I won’t stop till you say ‘football’.”
Monty nods, his toes curling in anticipation but Diego doesn’t give him much time cause the other teen puts his ankles in a head lock and lays into them.
Starting at the heels, the Dominican scrapes his dull nails at the skin, and fuck is it effective! Monty’s feet squirm all over in vain attempts to get out but there’s no escape to be had. Diego’s grip is too solid and the other boy says, “Is this what the tough guy wanted? Someone to take control of his big feet and tickle him like a little boy?”
And fuck, that is somehow the hottest thing Monty has ever heard.
After several more minutes, Diego pauses for a moment and says, “Is this okay?”
He nods, toes curled but says, “Can you uh, do the dirty talk again?”
Diego pauses for a moment, obviously surprised and then says, “Is there anything you want me to say?”
Monty feels his face heating up even more and replies, “I just- I dunno I-.” It’s hot but he isn’t exactly sure what it is hot.
Diego gives him a bemused look and Monty looks away and says, “Forget it. It was gay as fuck anyway.”
“Hey.” Diego scolds. His voice is firm, commanding which prompts Monty to look back at him, “That’s your dad talking. Ignore him. Do what you want. And if it’s a little gay, I don’t mind.”
Monty is stunned and Diego continues.
“So if you want your dirty talk, you’ll get it.”
The stunned silence continues but this time, it’s a warm feeling along with it. Monty- no one has ever given him the choice to do what he wants.
Diego doesn’t let him dwell on it too long though because before long, his ankles are back in the headlock and the tickling resumes. This time, Diego walks his fingers around Monty’s soles in random patterns. The ticking is little more than pokes here and there and Monty is mostly giggling. He’s confused until Diego says in a low, sultry voice, “You wanted to go pro? On these feet? These feet only serve the purpose of getting tickled while you laugh your pretty head off.”
Fuck. It’s goofy and over the top and said in the sexiest fucking thing he’s ever heard.
Diego is on a roll now with the dirty talk and says, “I think these big feet have always known they deserved this.”
Monty’s head is tossed back and tears have started to prick the corners of his eyes but Diego doesn’t stop. In fact, the other teen is ruthless, his dull nails destroy Monty and Monty… loves every second of it.
He lets Diego keep going as the other boy changes to different tactics, each one new and exciting but Monty is running out of breath and has to call out “football” between laughs.
Diego stops and lets him rest, after several moments, the other teen says, “So, is there anything else you want to do?”
Monty frowns trying to think when he again catches sight of Diego’s own handsome pair. “Think I can have a try at yours?”
Diego’s eyes widen and Monty pushes, “You are supposed to be helping me experiment.”
With a wry smile Diego replies, “You sure know how to get what you want. Switch with me.”
Monty ends up crouched on the floor with Diego’s feet within easy reach. Tentatively, he reaches forward and lays a hand on each ankle. His fingers trace along the tops, surprised by how warm and smooth they are. A glance up at Diego shows the other teen has a grin on his face, nervous for the first time, instead of cocky. Monty thinks he likes it and decides to really fuck with his friend.
“You told me Dominicans don’t play football. Maybe because their feet are too ticklish?”
There’s the obvious truth that Monty’s feet are super ticklish as well and it has nothing to do but the nervous laugh Diego gives makes him even cuter and Monty can’t resist digging into the meaty soles.
As much as he liked being tickled, he finds he enjoys doing it at least as much. Diego’s feet squirming under his fingers and there’s a power trip to it. He felt it with Justin, but it’s even stronger here and he can’t resist teasing, “Yep, ticklish Dominican feet definitely keep them from playing football.”
“FuAHahCKOAHahFF!”
The response has him laughing as he goes in deeper before pausing and asking, “Do you mind if I uhh amp it up?”
Diego pants, “Amp up the tickling? It can get worse?”
“Probably.”
Diego waves a hand motioning for Monty to go and bringing the brown foot up to his face, he laps at the arch. Diego squeals and Monty is satisfied with continuing. The warm skin under his fingers felt amazing, it’s even better under his tongue. After giving both feet a good tongue bath, he nibbles at the sides, provoking Diego to break free and Monty narrowly avoids a kick to the jaw.
Smirking, he says, “Your feet are stupid ticklish.”
Diego, seizing the freedom of his feet, pulls them back and says, “You might be stupid for tickling them.” There’s a levity to his voice so Monty takes no offense and smirks harder when Diego gripes, “I need another shower,” Reaching into his bag, he pulls out a towel and starts wiping his feet off and Monty can’t help but think the sight is hot as well. Diego’s feet glistening with his saliva, being toweled dry, Diego’s soft giggles indicating a level of phantom tickles remaining. Actually… he can’t help thinking Diego is pretty good looking.
He tries to drown that thought out by concentrating on the warm, carmel soles but that really doesn’t help.
“So, how was it?”
“Huh?”
“The experiment. How was it? Mission accomplished?”
It’s on the tip of his tongue to say yes, but just as he opens his mouth to say so, he clamps it shut. If he says yes, does he lose Diego’s feet? He’s not sure he’s ready to give them up. He’s only tickled them once- and if he says yes, will Diego ever tickle him again? He would hate for this to be a one and done thing.
“I dunno. I’ll probably want to- experiment with a few other things.”
Diego raises an eyebrow and gets down on the floor, closer to Monty than friends usually sit.
“You know this doesn’t have to be a one and done thing right? Even if you did accomplish everything, we could do this again sometime.”
Monty’s mouth is dry as he asks, “Promise?”
Diego nods and says cheekily, “I need payback after all, that was some bullshit.”
For a second, Monty thinks he feels something but the door opens and Mrs. Torres announces, “I’m home!”
They pull apart and Diego clears his throat, Monty looks away, accidentally at Diego’s feet, toes curled cutely.
“In here. Can Monty stay for dinner?”
“Monty’s here? Of course he can!”
Diego stands up and offers Monty a hand, hauling him to his feet a moment later and there’s a silent agreement that a lot more needs to be said… but it can wait.
Abed watches, engrossed as Kickpuncher punches another villain with the force of a kick, sending him off the catwalk and presumably to his doom on the factory conveyor belts below. The next of Punchkickers goons lines up and-
Troy’s ice cold foot presses up against his belly. He pushes it away.
Kickpuncher duels an enhanced baddy- the purpose is to show Kickpuncher can be challenged in combat, therefore building suspense that Kickpuncher might not make it through-
Abed jolts again as the cold foot once again finds his belly and he shoves it away again.
Kickpuncher exchanges a few brief words with Punchkicker. The dialogue is clunky but establishes Kickpuncher’s growing awareness of his own humanity despite denying it in the last movie. This will lead him down the path-
The cold foot is once again there and Abed glances over at Troy who shows no signs of being aware of what he is doing, totally engrossed in the movie as he is. Abed decides to get Troy’s attention this time, and runs a finger up the socked sole causing Troy to let out a squeal before shooting him a dirty look.
“Abed!”
“Troy.”
“What the hell?”
“You’ve been putting your cold foot on me over and over.”
“So you tickled me?”
He sounds incredulous and Abed replies plainly, “I did.”
“Well-”
Abed probably should have known something would come of provoking Troy but he doesn’t expect the other man to grab both of his feet and run his fingers over them.
Nor does he expect to throw his head back and start laughing at how much it tickles! He doesn’t think anyone has ever touched his feet before, he had no way of knowing he was this ticklish. He doesn’t let that stop him though, and is able to snag Troy’s feet and rip the socks off before tickling Troy’s now bare, and still cold, feet.
“Hey don’t take those socks- Fine!”
Abed feels his being pulled off but he has Troy’s feet in a headlock, and he’s always liked the sound of Troy’s laughter, so even though Troy is now tickling him, he’s enjoying giving as good as he is getting, even as his socks finally come off.
It continues for a bit longer before Troy finally yells, “Time.”
He turns to face Troy, who is panting like he is.
“If we are going to do this- we’re going to do it right.”
“I was unaware there was a right way to do this.” Abed isn’t really sure he knows what ‘this’ even is beyond a tickle fight Troy started by being unable to keep his feet to himself.
“No, there is. First we need rules, a point system, a way to determine the winner-”
Troy looks over the list of rules, his feet now slightly sweaty from being pressed against the radiator for the past fifteen minutes.
“So, we agree that the first to get the other to call ‘uncle’ is the winner.”
“Even though it is very cliche and this is probably the first time it has ever been done outside of TV.”
“Right. We agree that the winner gets one request, within reason, from the loser.”
“Something to make sure this stays interesting.”
“Agreed. We agree prior to starting that we make sure our bodies are as ticklish as possible- I still hate this one.”
“Your feet were too cold. It shows poor circulation. Warmer parts of the body are more sensitive and will make this more interesting.”
It sort of bothers Troy about the robotic way Abed assess his feet and how ticklish they are or aren’t and then makes a move to correct them. “Yea but it seems to benefit you!”
“You still agreed to do it. And now it’s too late to go back.”
Troy also kind of hates that he agreed so easily, he might as well have been downright eager, but there isn’t anything he can do about that now. “Anything is fair game below the knees and above the waist unless agreed otherwise.”
“Keeps options open.” Abed comments neutrally and Troy gives a nod.
“And that’s it. Are we agreed on all the rules then?”
Abed nods and to sign the deal, they do their handshake. Troy puts the notebook back before saying, “I think my feet are warm enough. If you’re ready-”
He’s suddenly pinned on his back, Abed sitting on top of him, long, slender fingers poking and prodding away at his ribs which has him squealing and squirming from side to side in a frantic attempt to escape, but as he goes left to escape some fingers, there are others waiting for him to bump right into, and when he goes right to escape those, he runs right back into the original pair he was trying to get away from.
“ChEHehEAteR!”
“Not really. We didn’t agree to anything else in the rules.”
Troy is stuck for several minutes squirming back and forth before he finally manages to flip Abed off of him and now sits on him. He really needs a minute but he knows Abed won’t give him that minute so he digs his fingers into his buddy’s armpits earning deep laughter from Abed.
Troy likes it. Abed doesn’t laugh, and Troy thinks it’s a shame cause he could listen to it all day. He’s so engrossed in the laughter that he ends up getting thrown off by Abed pretty easily. They grapple for a bit, getting random pokes and prods in. It turns out that his belly is really bad but Abed’s armpits are equally problematic.
Troy eventually manages to get on top of Abed again and can’t stop himself from fluttering his fingers lightly around Abed’s neck which produces the most adorable set of giggles he thinks he’s ever heard.
“You should laugh more,” he blurts out before thinking about what he is saying. In his embarrassment after that, he pauses a mistake because Abed doesn’t hesitate to capitalize on this.
“You too,” his friend replies and once again, he is flipped under the taller man who shows a total lack of mercy, poking and prodding at Troy’s muscled belly, muscles which aren’t helping him at the moment.
“Your laughter is very boyish, like school boy boyish,” Abed comments absently as he works Troy over. Something about the comment is both embarrassing because he’s a man now, but also flattering because Abed meant it to be a compliment and he likes to store up Abed’s compliments for days when he’s feeling low.
Still, as the nimble fingers continue to drill into his tight belly, he knows he needs to get out of this before he totally loses his mind, which feels like it might happen any time.
It’s only when Abed pokes into his belly button that Troy manages, through sheer ticklish induced strength, to burst free. Bucking Abed off of him stuns the other man long enough for Troy to jump on him- in a very manly, totally straight way- to take his revenge.
It’s strange, he’s never tickled anyone before, but right now, it feels like he might as well have been doing it his whole life. He just knows what to do- and it’s kind of awesome. That’s how things are with Abed though, the right thing to do just sort of comes and it makes his friendship with Abed easily the most low pressure one he’s ever had.
At some point he ends up under Abed again who leans down to blow hard on his belly.
He’s torn at laughing because it tickles so much, and because it sounds like a really wet fart, but when Abed pauses for a moment to breathe, Troy can’t stop himself from asking, “What was that?”
Abed frowns and then says, “I have no idea, I saw a boyfriend do it to his girlfriend once at a party.”
“Oh, I thought maybe it was something your dad did to you.”
Abed shakes his head. “No. My dad never did anything like this.”
Troy frowns and then says, “Yea, mine neither. If he saw me now he’d be super disappointed.”
Abed hums and then says, “Well he can’t see you right now.”
A wave of relief washes over him but before he can figure out how to properly thank Abed for getting rid of any shame that thought carried, his friend continues.
“And do you know what?”
“No, what?”
“I think it’s time we get back into it.”
Troy’s brain only catches up with what that means too late as Abed digs into his sides again and he is once again howling and thrashing around but even though Abed looks tall and lanky, he’s surprisingly strong and hard to throw off. It doesn’t stop Troy from trying as he squirms more and more but it isn’t until Abed goes to shift that he seizes his chance and is able to buck him off.
What follows is a mad scramble where they both end up poking and prodding anywhere they can find trying to distract the other long enough to get the upper hand. He feels several sharp tickles on his sides, armpits, and Abed even brushes a hand against his thighs which almost causes Troy to space out long enough to get pinned. He didn’t know they were ticklish, but apparently, all that muscle doesn’t help much against tickling.
At one point, Abed pulls out of reach and asks, “You’re still good with this?”
Troy frowns. “Yea.”
“Okay. Cool, cool, cool, cool.”
“Why'd you ask?”
“Well you’ve been shouting ‘stop’ and ‘cut that out’ so figured I should ask.”
Troy blinks, wide eyed for a moment. He didn’t remember saying any of that.
“Anyway, if you’re good-”
Abed leaves the sentence hanging, and lunges at Troy, who falls for it like he always does. It doesn’t take long for the taller man to wind up on top of him and he’s once again pinned as Abed’s skillful fingers find a new point of interest, Troy’s nipples.
Apparently, they are stupid ticklish, and unfortunately, he now understands why Jeff likes nipple play and he really wants Abed to stop but the nails continue to swirl teasingly around his nipples so lightly, he can barely feel it and that’s the most infuriatingly ticklish part about it, because he can’t do anything but laugh!
Troy realizes he needs to do something or he is going to lose and Abed’s foot is just barely in arm’s reach. He makes his gamble and lunges at it.
As his grip closes around the ankle, he lets out a crow of triumph. Abed's feet seemed a lot more ticklish than his upper body when they were on the couch, maybe he can get his buddy to give up by tickling him here.
He digs in, surprised that he kind of likes it? Abed’s soles are smooth to the touch and not gross sweaty, but slick enough that his dull fingernails slide across them with no resistance and Abed again produces a wonderful laughter, this one honest to goodness uncontrolled and it’s more musical than anything Troy has ever heard before and he loves it.
Somehow it comes naturally to him too. Abed’s feet are massive, way bigger than his and super soft, he remembers Abed almost always wears socks or slippers in the apartment so he guesses that makes sense, and also tracks with how soft his feet are since he does the same.
He just knows though, where to poke, where to scratch, where he can do the most tickling without hurting Abed and it’s amazing. At one point, he gets bold enough to say, “Coochi-coo!”
Abed shouts something incoherent in reply but Troy doesn't pay any attention to it as he continues exploring. Abed’s toes are long and kind of pretty somehow. He doesn’t know what it is about them, but he’s sure they’ll be fun to tickle and doesn’t think twice about wiggling his fingers between the squirmy digits and flossing the space between with his fingers.Abed seems to melt and Troy likes not only being in charge, but being able to make Abed laugh.
Unfortunately, he makes the mistake of not paying enough attention to his own feet and suddenly lets out a shriek and is suddenly thrown off and before he knows it, his feet are in Abed’s arms in a headlock and all he can do is watch in exhilarated terror as Abed’s nails start tracing up and down while he’s helpless to do anything other than watch.
The sensation is indescribable. He’s never really been tickled before this and on his upper body it was like his body would move without him thinking to escape the tickling, not it’s the same except he is watching Abed’s every move but is too damn ticklish to fight back effectively and all he can do is watch his own feet get tickled madly.
Everything he did to Abed’s feet, Abed does back to him, but with his being much smaller, he knows it has to tickle him more. All his nerves must be bunched up more so his feet have to be more ticklish! And it really sucks right now because Abed is easily dominating his feet with just one hand, using the other to control them and Troy is too tired from all the rolling around earlier to make much an effort and Abed is sitting cross legged, his own feet well protected against anything Troy might even think of doing.
He holds out for a while though, as Abed investigates each of his toes, pads, between, and underneath. Pokes, scratches, flossing, he even puffs a few breaths of cool air on them and lets it slide effortlessly between them.
Abed doesn’t contain himself to just Troy’s toes though, he takes a full tour of the ticklish feet, with Abed like meticulousness no matter how silly this all is. He works the heels with nails, pokes at the silky arches, and half massages, half tickles the balls of the feet until Troy’s world becomes limited to tickling and nothing else.
“UnHAHCLE!” He bellows, unable to take it anymore and like clockwork, his feet are released and he’s able to roll away from Abed in the least dignified way possible, panting against the couch as he has to catch his breath.
“I win,” Abed announces calmly, and needlessly.
Troy feels his face heat up as he says, “Yea, I guess you do.”
Abed stands up and goes to find his socks, pulling them over his feet before observing, “We made a mess.”
Troy glances around and it’s sort of true, they pushed things out of the way to make room and there are now stray articles of clothes that he doesn’t even remember taking off or having taken off. He half expects Abed to start putting things back together, but all his friend does is reach up to the top bunk and take the TV down and plug it back in.
“Doommaster Defeats the Forces of Good marathon?”
Troy puffs out a breath and nods, pulling his shirt back on and remembering that he technically owes Abed something and hoping that somehow- incredibly, his meticulous friend has forgotten. Sitting back down, he props his feet up on the coffee table that never holds coffee, still bare because he can’t be bothered to find his socks and doesn’t trust them not to tickle a bit since his feet still feel tingly.
He can’t stop himself from looking at them, and sometimes at Abed’s socked feet. He kind of hates to admit it, but the whole rolling around on the floor thing was fun. He’s an only child, growing up was kind of lonely sometimes. He had friends, but none like Abed… and his parents didn’t really tickle him either- it was new and he didn’t totally hate it even though he kind of hated it at the same time.
They get about ten minutes in before Abed speaks up, but keeps his eyes fixed on the TV, breaking the silence between them as he asks, “Did you have fun?”
Troy starts and then bluffs, “Fun? With that- no way! How could you think I did?”
“You keep looking at our feet, and didn’t even notice that I continued Kickpuncher.”
Troy does a double take at the screen before realizing that this is in fact the same movie they were watching before and is about to end.
“I- didn’t hate it. But I didn’t like it either!”
Abed hums, still watching the TV.
“I’m serious!”
He isn’t sure what he is serious about- both probably but he sort of wants Abed to assume it’s about not liking it, but also sort of hopes Abed knows he means not hating it so he doesn’t have to say it.
They lapse into silence for a bit longer, his eyes still mostly studying his and Abed’s feet before Abed speaks up again and says, “Hey Troy?”
“Yea?”
“I know what I want- for winning.”
Troy holds his breath as Abed continues.
“I want to do this again sometime.”
He exhales slowly, relieved that somehow, Abed knew what he wanted but didn’t know what to say. And also thankful that he can comfortably slip into the role of macho man without Abed calling his bluff as he replies, “You’re on. I’m not losing round two!”
At study group on Monday, they are chatting about their weekends when Annie asks, “So how did the movie marathon go?”
Abed looks at Troy who predictably looks shocked at being asked. The group watches them with varying levels of concern and confusion before Abed says, “We didn’t do it.”
Shirley frowns and starts reaching across the table to put her hand on Troy’s forehead as she asks, “Are you sick? Are you still sick?”
Troy bats the hand away and says, “We got busy with something else.”
Abed knows that wasn’t the right thing to say, and it was the wrong tone to say it in. Troy sounded guilty about it which was sure to get the nosier members curious and sure enough Pierce demands, “Got busy doing what? I didn’t think anything stopped your movie nonsense.”
Troy stalls so Abed says, “We had a tickle fight.”
Troy looks at him in horror but Abed doesn’t really care.
Britta is the first to recover as she says, “And you filmed it for money?”
Abed frowns and looks at Troy who looks equally confused while a chorus of ‘ews’ arise from the table.
Britta defends herself. “I’m just saying that they are somewhat conventionally attractive men and people would pay money for a video of them doing that kind of thing.”
Deciding to end whatever conversation is going on Abed says, “I don’t think a tickling based movie exists. Actually, statistically speaking, many movies will avoid the topic of tickling because the hands on nature of it may make some people uncomfortable.”
“So you just… did it for fun?” Annie asks, obviously confused.
Troy shrugs and replies, “Yea.”
“Gay.” Pierce mutters.
“Alright with this- fascinating distraction out of the way, can we please get to work on not failing Spanish?” Jeff cuts in which ends up ending the conversation and refocusing everyone on what they need to do.
Caspar: How can you think of work when there are innocent people who need defending!
Cyril: What?
Caspar: There are brigands in the marketplace!
Cyril: I just came from there, no bandits. Now I have to go. Seteth asked me to get these
for him and I’m already late.
*Screams*
NPC: Help! Bandits! They’re stealing everything!
Caspar: See? Now come on!
Cyril: I’m behind you.
**In the market**
Caspar: Hia! Take that thug.
Cyril: Caspar, watch out!
Caspar: Wha-Ooof!
Cyril: Get away from- Ah!
Brigand: The Church must really be in dire straights if the best they could do was get a
pair of boys to fight us.
Caspar: Just you wait when I get my hands free I’ll show you who the boy is!
Brigand: I’m shaking in my boots.
Cyril: The knights will be on their way and if you’ve killed us when they get here, you’ll be in for a bad time.
Brigand: Oh I’m terrified. Really I am. Guess that means I shouldn’t kill you!
Caspar: What are you doing Cyril! We don’t need the knights to get us out of here, we can do it ourselves and bring this bastard to justice without their help!
Brigand: Bastard? Justice? Kid, you don’t know the first thing about justice. You should have stayed at the monastery playing knight with the other brats. But since you’re here… I’m going to have some fun!
Cyril: Hey what are you doing?
Caspar: Let go of my boots!
Brigand: Teenage boys always think they’re tough stuff, but when you get down the bare skin, they aren’t really.
Caspar: What does- hey! Cuhaht that ouhohut!
Cyril: KnoAHaHCOkiheheTOhAHahoFF!
Brigand: This is just too much fun. You were going to stop me? Yea right. I can’t believe they let wannabe knights in who are so ticklish, they can’t stand a little touching! I’m going to keep you boys here for a long time!
Cyril: StAHahahOP!
Caspar: IhAHAHLLKiAHAHELLYoHAHAHoU!
Brigand: Not if I tickle you two to death first! You two sure are cute when you laugh
though, be a shame to off you so soon.
Cyril: WhahAHaHat?
Caspar: BAHaHahstAhAHard!
Brigand: That’s right. Laugh it up for me boys. You should consider jobs as jesters, you’d both do super well. Ooo look. Exotic feathers and brushes! Let's see how those work.
Cyril: PlEHeheAHesE
Caspar: HeHEhALp!
B Support
Caspar: Oh hey Cyril. Still cleaning?
Cyril: No. Not really. I was. But I finished and I’m waiting for the knights to leave before I go on to my next job.
Caspar: Are they - you know?
Cyril: Every chance they get. You too?
Caspar: Uhuh. And that isn’t even the worst of it! I can’t believe they rescued us and are now determined to humiliate us!
Cyril: They came in and saw us laughing our heads off. And after they chased the bandits
away they kept right on-
Caspar: Don’t say it. I hate that word. And it isn’t even the worst when they… do it. I really can’t stand it when they…
Cyril: The teasing.
Caspar: Yes! I know I’ve got big feet! I don’t need them reminding me about it. I swear
I’ve started hearing phrases like ‘who’d have thought these goofy feet were so ticklish! and ‘do you think when he grows into them they’ll still be as ticklish? Ugh It sucks! What about you?
Cyril: They umm. They hold me down and play this little piggy.
Caspar: Man that’s rough! At least your feet aren’t as big as mine. Less space to- ahh do it I guess? Right?
Cyril: I don’t think it’s a size thing. It- it’s really bad. They don’t stop until I’m practically crying.
Caspar: Ugh, maybe not. They seem meaner to you! There has to be something we can do!
Cyril: There is, just avoid them until they get tired of their game.
Caspar: No! I mean something more active. Wait! I’ve got it! How about we train it out of us!
Cyril: What?
Caspar: Yea! C’mon take those things off your feet!
Cyril: No way!
Caspar: Awww. Wait. Do you want to start on me first?
Cyril: No, Caspar. I don’t.
Caspar: Well then take your shoes off and we can get started!
Cyril: That’s not how it works you can’t just- train yourself out of this.
Caspar: Well with that kind of attitude of course you can’t!
Cyril: Caspar!- Wait!- Stop! Get off me!
Caspar: No way! Not until you don’t laugh!
A Support (post time skip)
Cyril: Hey, Caspar?
Caspar: Cyril? Didn’t see you there. What’s up?
Cyril: Do you remember that time back when you were a student here? With the brigands?
Caspar: Aww- I thought I forgot all about it. Why’d you have to bring it up?
Cyril: Nothing- sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.
Caspar: …
Cyril: Anyway. I should go. I still have a lot to-
Caspar: I lied.
Cyril: What?
Caspar: I’ve thought about it a lot. Constantly even.
Cyril: You have?
Caspar: Uhuh, and your feet along with it.
Cyril: Really? And what did you think about it?
Caspar: How much I liked tickling you?
Cyril: …
Caspar: Are you mad?
Cyril: No. Just surprised.
Caspar: Why?
Cyril: Because I have too- and I didn’t think you would have as well.
Caspar: Well I do. A lot. I really liked tickling you that one time I tried to make you ‘not ticklish’.
Cyril: I was angry because I was worried you might succeed.
Caspar: Then you like it too?
Cyril: I do. Hey, my eyes are up here.
Caspar: Well you were the one who came here wearing sandals!
Cyril: Heh, guess I did. But your feet aren’t better covered up.
Caspar: Umm I’m in my room, they’re allowed to be bare here. But since you’re my guest, might as well make yourself comfortable.
Cyril: Guess I will.
Caspar: Aww man. I really want to tickle you now!
Cyril: Ah! Not so fast. I want to try you first. That was the offer you made last time.
Caspar: No fair! You turned it down last time.
Cyril: If you want my feet, I get yours first.
Caspar: Well… alright. Give ‘em a good tickle I guess.
Cyril: They don’t look as big as they used to be.
Caspar: Nope! I finally grew into them. Kind of miss it though, having big feet.
Cyril: I think they’re perfect.
Caspar: Aww you’re making me blush.
Cyril: It’s a start. Pretty soon I’ll be making you laugh but there’s one thing before I start- five years ago, you couldn’t say the word ‘tickle’ now you throw it around all the time!
Caspar: Huh… I guess I wasn’t ready for it back then. But I am now, as long as it’s with you.
Cyril: Thanks Caspar. Really.
Caspar: Hey, don’t go getting all mushy on me before you tickle me! I’ve been waiting five years for you to make me howl!
Cyril: Guess I have a lot to live up to. How’s this?
Caspar: Wait! WhaAHaH- IWhahahASn’tReeHAahAHdy!
Cyril: Too bad! I finally got these feet and I’m not letting go!
“We’ve been out here for forty minutes and seen nothing, let's go back while it’s still light out.”
“Just a few more minutes, I’m sure something is out here.”
“Which brings us back to the all important question of why are we out here looking for it!”
Scott looks at him with those big, stupid puppy dog eyes and replies, “It could be dangerous.”
“All the more reason to not go looking for it!”
“But someone could get hurt.”
“And right now we’re acting like horror movie characters who want to die.”
“See? Even Isaac is on my side.”
A snort, “I’m on any side that doesn’t involve looking for potential monsters.”
Scott pauses at the mouth of a cave and says, “I really just have a bad feeling. I’ll check out this cave and then we can head back.”
As the other boy squeezes past the rocks into the mouth Stiles replies, “This is like going into the proverbial graveyard Scott. Let’s leave before we find anything.”
Isaac chimes in helpfully, “I’ve been enjoying nothing trying to kill me for a few weeks.”
Not dissuaded, Scott disappears into the blackness and he calls after the other boy, “If you’re not out in five minutes we’re leaving.”
A moment of silence and he asks, “Do you feel anything?”
Isaac shrugs, “No but Scott is better at this than me anyway.”
He huffs and taps his foot impatiently, checking the time on his phone and grumbling about it being dark before they get back. Isaac helpfully replies he’ll hold his hand and keep him from getting lost.
A yell from in the cave gets his heart pounding and Isaac is already sliding into the cave.
“Scott?” They yell in unison. He squeezes in after Isaac.
It’s surprisingly not pitch black, dark sure, but not as much as it should be. A hand on his shoulder and he can make out the length of Isaac’s arm pointing towards a faint glow.
Wordlessly they continue on, afraid of what they’ll find.
It gets brighter and brighter and they can hear sounds from further in. It isn’t clear what until they’re closer and then it doesn’t make any sense.
Laughter.
He glances at Isaac in the semi light who shrugs and they keep going, the tunnel opens into a large cavern the light source from early revealed to be a glowing pool of water. The laughter persists, Scott’s he’d know it anywhere.
Next to him Isaac whispers a soft, “Damn.”
Damn is about right Scott is being held up by several long, thick tentacles coming from the pool of water. They don’t seem to be doing anything, just waving him around a toy. Laughter bubbles out of Scott not all the time but consistently.
“What is that?” Isaac sounds as confused as he feels.
“I have no idea.” And then he fishes out his phone, “But I might be able to find out.” He flicks it on and pulls up the semi translated Bestiary. “Keep it busy.”
Isaac looks over and replies dryly, “Scott seems to be doing that on his own.”
“GuEHAheysHeHELP!”
He looks up to see Scott looking at them and apparently clueing...whatever that thing is in on them being there. Great.
With a heavy sigh Isaac replies, “I’ll keep it busy.”
A long thick tentacle comes for them and Isaac swats it away moving out into the cavern.
He turns his attention back to the pages, skimming through them as fast as he can, Kenima, no; were-beast, no: ghoul, no-
“BHEHeCahahrEhafulItSthahapSYoHouRpOwers!”
“What?”
Huh, stops powers, that narrows this down a little.
“OooF!”
He looks back to see Isaac, not as a wolf...no fuzzy sideburns.
“It stops your powers Isaac.” He tries to keep the exasperation out of his voice as Isaac tries to dodge the tentacles swinging at him.
“Hurry up Stiles.” Isaac sounds a little winded but he doesn’t have time to look up.
“Give me details, what can it do.”
“How many tentacled monsters are in there?” Now the other boy sounds frustrated.
“There’re about ten. Give me details!” He risks a glance up but is relieved to find Isaac managing to stay one step ahead of the tentacles that keep reaching for him. No wonder he sounds tired, that probably sucks.
Isaac grumbles but Scott laughs something out but it takes him several moments to figure it out. When he does it explains a lot and also basically nothing.
Tickling.
Weird but that should narrow it down a little. How many things in here can tickle and stop powers, and has tentacles?
Turns out more than one which is frustrating.
“WahHAtchOuAHuT!”
Scott yells something Stiles’s brain takes a moment to unscramble into ‘watch out’ which is followed by a yelp and turns to see Isaac, flat on his ass, trying to scramble away from a tentacle.
“What the hell Scott? Why did it throw your shoe at me!?”
Stiles rolls his eyes and replies, “Probably cause it can. Get up, Isaac.”
Too late for that. One of the tentacles has already grabbed Isaac and hoisted him off the ground. Well shit. This just got harder.
“Hey leave my sneakers on, I need those! And that’s my favorite shirt!”
He looks up to see Isaac getting stripped by the monster, socks, sneakers and shirt are flung carelessly.
“Stiles what is this thing!”
Scott chimes in, apparently getting a break, his breathing is ragged but he isn’t laughing so it’s easier to understand, “It’s a tickle monster.”
“So a liquid that blocks shapeshifting and a tickle monster.” He muses as he searches through another few pages. “It can’t be that dangerous right? It’s just tickling.”
Apparently Isaac in no way wants to be tickled and is squirming a hell of a lot, grunting and trying to get free but with no success. He does interrupt his apparently pointless efforts to say, “I really don’t want to find out.”
He sounds panicked and Stile can’t help but snipe, “Is the big bad wolf afraid of a little tickling?”
“I don’t see you coming out.”
“My talents lie elsewhere, like reading.”
If Isaac was going to reply it’s cut off by a squeak and then giggles. Scott follows a moment later, he glances up to see dozens of slimmer tentacles, maybe the thickness of pencils, rising from the pool, glistening in the bioluminescent. He can’t say it isn’t entertaining to watch Scott and Isaac, both of who can pick up cars if they want, laughing like little boys. He’s glad it isn’t him, but part of him can’t help but feel a little vindication. He’s spent the better part of a year watching his best friend get to do amazing things and drag him along for all the terror, it’s nice to watch him helpless but probably safe.
He can see the tentacle dragging themselves along Scott’s upper body and poking into his belly button and under his arms, meanwhile the monster doesn’t seem to like Isaac much and is holding him upside down while a couple of the little tentacles floss between his toes. Both are completely helpless against it, laughing madly and trying to talk, probably telling him to hurry up.
He can’t watch forever though, and turns back to his phone skimming the passages. Before finally finding a promising one:
Monstrum Titillationem: Shape and size will vary ranging from humanoid to squid like, insectoid to gelatinous. Not dangerous but not pleasant, these creatures are rather peculiar, spending long amounts of time hibernating only to wake up hungry. All varieties seem to feed on laughter but it appears that most find supernatural beings satisfying. They will tickle to produce the laughter, but werekin, banshees, kanima, and all other varieties, do not produce satisfying laughter to them. The Monstrum Titillationem secretes a chemical substance that prevents supernatural beings from accessing their power, trapping them in their human forms. The ooze appears to have the effect of softening and moisturizing skin and removing calluses, leaving it more susceptible to the touch. According to our observations, it will secrete the ooze on both humans and non humans but in vastly different quantities, keeping up a continual amount of it on non humans but only administering once to humans.
We suspect the production of this ooze consumes as much energy as the laughter feeds it causing these meals to not be satisfying. It can prove lethal to these beings as it may continue to try feeding on them but not gain enough nutrients to sustain itself and cause the subject being tickled to perish for want of water. We have tried gaining access to this ooze but have found ourselves unable to as it does not secrete enough against humans for us to justify the risk of collecting it.
“STIHhIheLeS!”
He groans. Of course Scott would find something like this and drag him and Isaac along for the ride. He looks down at his track sneakers, wiggling his toes in them. Honestly, the stuff he does for Scott.
He tugs off both sneakers and then his socks, balling them up in the sneakers and sets his phone down, he pulls off his shirt too and sets it over the top, he isn’t searching through a cave for them later.
The ground is surprisingly soft underfoot, sandy and cool. He moves towards the pool of water, ignoring the other two boys yelling at him, or trying at least. The monster doesn’t lunge for him and he thinks that maybe it’s confused as to what he’s doing, which is fair cause honestly, same. He takes a seat on the sand, puts his feet out in front of him and yells,
“Come and get it!”
It doesn’t need more invitation, several tentacles surge from the pool of water and there’s no going back. They scoop him up right away and are surprisingly warm to the touch.
And wet. It must be the ooze the bestiary talked about. Thin tentacles come up to join the big ones, they start sliding across his body, covering it in the ooze and getting him to giggle. He hasn’t been tickled in a long time, not since before Mom died when she and Dad would gang up on him and hold him down and tickle him silly.
This isn’t like that at all, the tentacles tickle like mad, but the ooze… he can feel it warming his skin and he thinks he can feel his nerve endings coming to the surface in response! Several appendages start tickling in earnest once his whole upper body is covered in the stuff. Watching it done to Scott and Isaac was one thing, experiencing it is something else. The tentacles rove over his chest and belly, sides, sometimes even into his underarms.
It feels like an eternity of it, the tentacles are like fingers, able to target the nooks and crannies of his body with devastating effects and he finds himself tearing up from the overload. He thinks it’s getting worse too. His sides were never ticklish, not when he was little, and not as he got older but now they are. He can’t tell if it’s his imagination or not.
It seems like the tentacles take time to tickle every rib, make as many passes over his belly and sometimes poke into his belly button, and some of the thicker one even manage to squeeze his sides a few times. With his arms wrapped together over his head, he can’t even try to protect himself even though his body is struggling to try.
And then there’s a shift. He’s been so distracted by what was happening above his waist, he didn’t realize his feet have been standing on one very thick tentacle, with the ooze coating his soles and getting between his toes and slowly warming them the same as the rest of his body suffered through tickling.
Apparently this monster is now ready to start in with them and he’s been dreading this moment since he stripped off his socks and sneakers. He knows his feet are ticklish, they always were when he was a kid but even now as a teen, he’s accidently tickled himself before, walking barefoot on grass or on a carpet at Scott’s house.
There’s a squelching noise as the tentacles shift underfoot and he realizes with a mixture of repulsion and fear that his feet are warm, wet, and soon to be very tickled.
The good thing is that the anticipation doesn’t last long, the bad thing is it’s because the tickling starts. The tentacles drag across his soles but the worst is when they floss between his toes, pushing into the crevices between them no matter how he tries to keep them out.
He laughs like a mad man. Scott and Isaac are too.
He thinks the monster is learning too, it makes more passes between his toes and into his belly button where he’s most ticklish. It’s a frightening thought, that the longer this goes on, the more efficient a tickler the monster becomes. That isn’t a comforting thought but it’s one of the few that penetrates his head.
It feels like forever but then, all of a sudden, the tickling stops, and slowly he’s lowered to the ground, deposited on the sand, panting, his feet tingling, his whole body actually still tingling. For a few moments, he’s content to lie on the sand, facing the cavern’s ceiling.
Tickling sucks. That was miserable and he’s never, as long as he lives, getting tickled again. If Scott manages to find one of these again, he’d better hope he gets lucky because no way
Stiles is bailing him out again.
“Scott. I hate you.”
Maybe the most intelligent thing Isaac has ever said. “I second that.”
He props himself up on his elbows to look around. Isaac is still flat on his back, Scott is up like him. Both of their feet are pointed in his direction and both are glistening in the light, as is Scott’s upper body.
“Come on. It wasn’t that bad.” Scott tries to defend himself but Isaac shuts him down right away.
“Really? Then you can come back here and play with it again. Alone.”
Stiles pulls himself into a sitting position and pulls a foot up to examine his sole. A sickening thought occurring to him.
Scott is still trying in vain to deflect the blame. “I’m not saying I’d come back. Just that wasn’t as bad as it could have been.”
“It didn’t have to be anything. Next time you get a feeling, ignore it.”
He reaches out and pokes his sole, shivering a little as he does. Reaching out, he gives it a more through rub down no matter how much it sucks. Tickling isn’t exactly the right word, but it isn’t as far from it as he wants. He shivers again from the sensation. If these were any hands other than his own, he’d be laughing and that thought doesn’t make him happy. The foot is also smooth and soft, any dead or rough skin is gone, leaving them softer than before.
He looks at his hands, his palms had been growing calluses from his lacrosse stick but those aren’t nearly as hard as before and his hands didn’t even get a lot of the ooze on it. He stands up in time for Isaac to comment.
“Stiles agrees with me.”
He looks up in time to see Isaac look at him expectantly.
“Probably. Scottie, let me see your hands.”
He grabs the hands and checks them. Same deal.
“This ooze might have a permanent effect. It definitely has a long term one.”
It’s almost funny to watch the other two grab their own feet and look at them. It would be, if he hadn't just done it himself. Returning to pull his clothes back on he announces,
“Scott? Next time you have a feeling, Ignore it.”
His friend is blushed under his tan but nods, finally agreeing this is his fault.
They leave the cave and head home. He explains on the way what the bestiary said about the monster and then he and Isaac spend most of the time reminding Scott this is all his fault. It’s actually kind of funny and for once he feels a bond with Isaac, dealing with Scott together with someone will do that, he guesses.
Later that night, he wonders if he can convince Isaac to hold Scott down and tickle him a bit to see if the ooze really is permanent. If he phrases it as for science he probably can and it might be fun. He looks down at his feet and rubs them absently against the thin rug and shivers a little, quickly pulling them back. He rests one leg on his knee to examine his sole again. He didn’t exactly hate the tickling all things considering, it was intense, but being able to open up and laugh for no reason was pretty nice after all the running for his life.
He supposes maybe he could let Isaac or Scott test on him… maybe if he’s feeling generous. It could be fun.
Danny wrinkles his nose at the ‘organic’ candy Sam hands out to trick or treaters. He told her to at least hand out candy corn because it has to be healthy, it has corn in the name! Instead, she went off on a tangent about how… whatever it is she’s handing out is better for kids. It seems pointless to remind her that Halloween is about being unhealthy.
A chill creeps up his back and a puff of gas escapes his mouth. He groans, helping Sam run the a stall at the school’s trick or treat function was not his dream Halloween but they were supposed to pick up Tucker and watch scary movies together after and that is going to be a lot of fun. Now some ghost is going to ruin that. He taps Sam on the shoulder so she can give him some cover. Once changed, he sets off in search of the ghost.
It doesn’t take him long to find a cowboy riding on a skeletal horse, holding a plastic pumpkin head in one hand.
Youngblood, scaring candy givers and takers alike as his horse leaves trails of blue fire.
Danny heaves an annoyed sigh as he settles down in front of the ghostly child. Youngblood glances at him and says, “All I wanted was to trick or treat but these guys are all scared of me! It’s so unfair. These party poopers always ruin everything!”
With a shriek of rage, Youngblood’s eyes glow and Danny shouts, “Wait. Wait!”
Youngblood, eyes still glowing, faces him expectantly.
“We can make a deal. You don’t freak out, and in exchange…” He starts to hesitate, not sure what the ghost wants that he can safely offer.
“In exchange, you play with me!”
There’s a gleam in Youngblood’s eye that promises problems, but at the risk of a town leveling temper tantrum, Danny agrees, with one condition.
“Without lasers!”
“Nope. No lasers at all.” Youngblood says in a sing-song voice.
They fly to Youngblood’s ship, ominously moored over the city. Once on board, Youngblood disappears and returns, brown leather jacket and robbers mask having replaced his old costume. He pushes clothes into Danny’s hands, a sheriff’s costume. This seems… okay. It goes on over his black jumpsuit easily enough.
And then Youngblood attacks him.
Attack might be too strong a word… one minute Danny is fixing a sheriff’s star to his new coat, the next he has a ghostly lasso wrapped around him too tightly to get off.
“Yer not welcome around these parts, Sheriff.”
“I think that’s my line.”
Youngblood glares at him and hisses, “Stay in character.”
“Umm I think that’s my line, bandit?”
Youngblood’s smirk returns as he says, “Nope. I think it’s mine, but since you came here. You’re going to give me the combination to the bank safe!”
Warming up to his role Danny replies, “Never. You’ll have to take it from me!”
“I plan to.” Youngblood’s smirk now has a hint of malice to it and Danny wonders how smart of an idea this was as the ghostly boy lands, the lasso moves, forcing Danny to sit down so they are more or less eye level. Youngblood advances and continues in character, “Say Sheriff, you wouldn’t happen to be ticklish would you?”
Danny gulps but a glare from Youngblood has him reply, “If you think I’ll give up the combination cause of a little tickling, you’re mistaken.”
“That’s what I was hoping you’d say!” a way too excited Young blood shot back, instantly sending shivers down Danny’s spine.
What has he gotten himself into?
With little time to ponder his predicament, Danny finds himself knotted up in a position much more suited for cattle.
“Uh...I’m not sure I like where this is going...”
With Youngblood too caught up in his game to notice the response, the boy plunges his stubby fingers deep into the teen’s, defenseless sides.
“Gauaahhh,wahahahahit!!” Danny bellows, momentarily halting the ghost child’s assault.
“Don’t tell me you’re throwing in the towel already, law man?” Youngblood ridicules with a raised eyebrow.”
“In your dreams, convict. I'd never surrender to an outlaw!” Even Danny is surprised by the response wondering if his survival skills are somehow totally defective.
“Haha I knew you’d be one tough cookie to crack, Sheriff,” thrilled with his game the mischievous ghost boy quickly gets back to work, diving deep into his captive’s compromised torso.
“AAAAHHHHH, NOHOHOHO,” was all the ‘Sheriff’ could muster.
“Ahh no? Well that doesn't sound like no combination to me,” Youngblood mocked as he grabbed handfuls of Danny’s scrawny sides, kneading them as if he were doing laundry.
Danny thought to rattle off a random set of numbers in hopes of ending his ordeal, but he struggled to formulate anything other than laughter as Youngblood continued his relentless assault.
Just then, Youngblood’s chubby digits began to slip past Danny’s tender sides threatening to torment his flat, unsuspecting tummy, which had only managed to avoid most of the onslaught thanks to his positioning.
Sensing the attack, Danny begins to buck like a powerful rebellious steed. “NOHOHOHOHO, COME ONNN!”
Youngblood holds on tightly tickling every step of the way, “YEEEEEHAWWWW!” he exclaimed, adding further humiliation to the older boy’s endless suffering.
Struggling proves futile however, with Youngblood gaining the upper hand swiftly. The ghost boy uses his leverage to quickly hoist Danny into the proper position, working over his previously untouched, toned belly with a childish disregard for his captive’s sanity.
Danny is nothing more than an instrument in his captor’s grasp as each poke produces streams of different tickly melodies from his lips, but none sounding like the combination Youngblood claimed to be looking for.
“Aaaahaaahahalllrriighhtt!!” Danny pleads. “I surrender, I’ll give YOHOHOHOO the combination!” His face a bright red mess of sweat and tears he begins to prattle off numbers hoping they’ll be his salvation .
Expecting his intimidate release, Danny is taken aback when Youngblood first mimes himself putting in a combination before declaring it wrong then stating “Oohohoho, you sly dog you, I should’ve expected a wrong combination!”
Danny’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“Now it’s time to play my favorite game, tic..tac...TOES!”
“Youngblood!”
His boots disappear off his feet, seemingly at the behest of his eternally young tormentor and several ghostly feathers float up, dripping ectoplasmic green ink.
They rise up to his feet and slowly, with agonizing tickling, draw a massive tic tac toe board over each of his feet.
“If I win three games, you tell me what I want. If you win, I’ll let you go, maybe.”
“That doesn’t seem fair!” Danny giggles out in the aftermath of the first taste of foot tickling. The ink on his soles feels funny and he doesn’t like it but he has more things to worry about.
“Doesn’t matter. I'll go first!” The ghostly quill draws a big circle on the center of his heel arch, causing him to giggle and try to kick but his legs are now bound tighter leaving him unable to do that.”
“Your turn!”
Just as Danny is about to say he can’t see the game, a ghostly image of it appears in front of him and he says glumly, “Bottom right.” He then braces himself as the tickling starts again.
He cackles madly as an ‘x’ is drawn on the side of his heel.
Youngblood and him place several more marks, each one tickling more than the last until the tiny ghost crows, “I win!”
As if to add insult to ticklery, a line is drawn across the winning shapes on Danny’s feet, causing more laughter from the teenage ghost.
“Next game! Careful, Sheriff, I’m going to beat you soon! It’s be a shame if our game ends too quickly.”
Youngblood's tone has Danny assuming that if the ghost is unsatisfied, he’ll pretend it’s a wrong combo again. Danny frowns trying to remember how Tucker always beats him when they play in class.
His musings are cut short when another circle is drawn on the center of Danny’s other arch. It doesn’t tickle any less than the last time, actually it might tickle a little more since he wasn’t ready for it, but now Danny is ready. He calls out the same move again but he has a plan in mind this time.
Youngblood places his next move and then Danny calls his next one, and puts Youngblood in a trap. He sees an annoyed look cross the boy’s face as his opponent realizes what happened.
“Well played, Sheriff.” The ghost child’s voice is anything but congratulatory. “Guess we’d better reset for the next rounds.”
Danny frowns about to ask what needs to be done when two brushes start floating in front of his feet.
“Wait-”
Any plea he might make is cut off by the scrubbing which leaves him in hysterics and pleading, “EhEhEHAStAHAHap!”
“Sorry, we have to continue our game somehow.”
He doesn’t sound the least bit apologetic as his face is split with a huge grin. Danny howls as the firm bristles scrub up and down his soles, leaving him laughing maniacally, especially when the bristles bully their way under his toes to clean the pads and undersides of the green ink.
Danny is panting and exhausted as the brushes disappear and are replaced instead by the feathers, redrawing the boards. He’s too tired at this point to do more than squirm a little and giggle.
As they start playing, he realizes Youngblood is cheating, the boy moving their circles and ‘x’s around to favor him.
“You’re cheHEating.” He jumps a little when a circle is drawn
“Am not.”
“AHAre ToHo!”
Youngblood smirks instead of getting angry and replies, “You must be going crazy from the tickling. I’m not cheating, but I did win again! That makes two for me. One more and you have to tell me the combo!”
Danny watches as the ghost takes the first move again and he plays the game out, but it’s pointless, Youngblood cheats but Danny isn’t trying anyway.
“Now then Sheriff, what's that combo?”
Danny rattles off a series of numbers and hopes Youngblood will take it. Once again the childish ghost mimes entering the combination and this time, Danny heaves a sigh of relief as Youngblood flings open the imaginary door and says, “There now. I knew you could be reasonable.”
The ropes fall away and Danny’s boots reappear on his feet.
“This was fun! You should come back and play again some time.”
Danny groans at just the thought but considering Youngblood seems in a good enough mood to not fire on the city, he’ll take it. Instead, the young ghost lets him leave and once off the ship, it disappears. Danny returns in time to help Sam finish packing up. They grab Tucker and meet at the Fenton house.
A half hour later, popcorn is made and TV is on, they’re stretched out lazily to watch when he starts giggling, his soles tingling suddenly. He tries scratching through his socks but from giggling, it grows into laughter while Sam and Tucker watch him confused.
“Danny what’s wrong?
“The movie’s bad but it isn’t that funny.”
Tingling turns to the feeling of dozens of tickling feathers passing over his soles, maddening and getting stronger by the moment and he realizes he never had the ectoplasm ink scrubbed off after the second round.
He rips his socks off, the glowing goo shine on his soles as he continues laughing.
“BrAHusHeS!” He yells out hoping one of his friends is able to find them for him.
Sam and Tucker jump up and run in opposite directions as he rubs his feet on the floor hoping for any relief but it doesn’t come, not until he can get the plasm off better which will undoubtably involve more tickling. Throwing his head back he laughs out,
Across town, the young ghost smirks at the angry laughter and says to his assistant, “You didn’t think it would work.”
The skeletal horse watches the direction the laughter is coming from as he replies, “I didn’t. I don’t think he’ll want to come back and play with you again after this.”
“Maybe not. But this was a great trick for Halloween!”
As Greez pulls his head out of the duct that he’s working in, a strange sound reaches his ears. With a frown he grabs one of his heavier wrenches and moves silently through the ship. Cere is off on a supply run so he and Cal are alone on the Mantis right now, and the kid is supposed to be sleeping.
When he approaches the sleeping quarters though, the sound grows louder and more distinct, coming from Cal’s room. Part of him is tempted to march in and demand to know what the kid is doing cause he’s supposed to be sleeping as in resting. The other part of him though is confused cause the sound is laughter, more freely than he’s ever heard from Cal before. He stands outside for a moment before nudging the door open.
Inside, the red head is laying out on his bed while the little oil leaker pokes and nudges at the kid’s sides emphatically while Cal lays and giggles, occasionally punctuated by a laugh when the droid hits a sensitive spot. Tickling. All of this racket caused by some tickling. He really never would have guessed that Cal, always stoic and somber in true Jedi fashion, would be ticklish. Come to think of it, he doesn’t remember ever hearing the young man’s laugh. Greez decides he likes the sound; it’s sweet, and genuinely happy, and clearly Cal’s enjoying this.
He lingers at the door debating what to do. The kid really should be sleeping after his fight with one of those Inquisitors but-he’s happy.
Finally he clears his throat.
The boy turns a pretty shade of red to match his hair and doesn’t say anything.
“You’re supposed to be sleeping.”
“I couldn’t sleep.”
Guarded. He doesn’t blame the kid, being hunted for so many years would make anyone tense. It does sting a little, but he pushes that aside and continues the conversation.
“And this helps?”
He sort of gets a shrug, still standoffish and guarded and embarrassed.
“Well if it does, clearly your little buddy isn’t cutting it,” he advances on the bed menacingly, pulling the greasy, oil stained gloves off his hands, all four of them, and cracking his knuckles. He knows that if Cal really doesn’t want this, he’s more than able to stop it so he doesn’t feel bad.
His hands find the socked feet first, one sticking out from under the covers, the other not far from it. It’s easy when he gets close enough to pin both ankles and tickle with his other hands.
Cal yelps and laughs, more of the same happy sound mixed with a plea...or demand he can’t really tell, “GrHEhEhEhZE! SHthahAhAhAhAP!” The kid tugs his ankles back but not hard, not really even trying as far as he can tell.
“Nope, you made your bed, now lay in it.”
The socks are thick, good considering all the cold places he goes running off too, but wow. It’s impressive how ticklish he is with them still on. Greez scratches several nails against both feet and is pretty pleased with the reaction.
“KnOHahAocKIHehEHeheheITohAhoFF!”
He’s less pleased when the kid almost kicks him but hey, hazards of the job.
“Maybe I should move on up?”
Without waiting for an answer he grabs at the kid’s knees finding a new trove of nerves to exploit and continues bringing out the bubbling laughter and a lot of squirms as Cal rolls from side to side trying, maybe, to get away. With one hand he reaches up and pokes the kid’s belly, keeping the other three squeezing his legs. It takes a bit of leaning but he manages it and is rewarded by Cal trying to suck his tummy in as far as it’ll go and still not getting away.
By now the kid’s face is nearly as red as his hair but he’s smiling with glee not just from getting tickled but Greez stops anyway partly to give him a breather and partly cause the disappointed pout that spreads across his face is cute. It makes him look like the kid he is and not some solemn Jedi of the past.
“Done already?”
He almost laughs at the kid’s voice, trying to sound teasing and not disappointed but only partly succeeding, he doesn’t need the Force to know Cal is hoping for more. “I don’t have to be.”
“I mean-you can continue if you want.”
It’s sort of endearing how the kid won’t meet his eyes and he moves up again, now in prime position to attack both sides and both armpits and judging by the look on Cal’s face, he realizes as much.
It might be a little mean of him but he doesn’t give the kid an opportunity to back out and digs in. His fingers are pretty strong from years of working with picky, delicate machines and when he starts kneading the boy’s sides, the response is electric, thrashing and laughing wildly. Working Cal up is easy enough but he decides to wait until he’s got the kid good and squirming before getting into his armpits at the same time and that’s when he gets some real belly laughs.
“This what you were looking for kid?”
“GREhAheAHehAHss!”
“That’s my name.”
The best part about this is he can go as far as he wants, Cal is more than capable of stopping him if it gets too much.
He continues to drill the kid’s armpits and knead his sides, and occasionally when he feels like really getting him, he goes for the belly button. All told he works the kid over pretty hard.
“STAhAhAhAP!”
“Aww, what’s wrong I thought you liked this.”
He does though and gets a few more giggles that mingle with hiccups.
“Tired out yet?”
A surprisingly cocky smirk, “Not even close, old man.”
He huffs, feigning annoyance, “Bold words from a ticklish little pup. Let’s see how you handle it when I do this~”
In a smooth motion he strips both socks off. “Still feeling confident kid?”
“Maybe a little less?”
He lets out a chuckle and digs into the now bare feet and Cal’s laughter quickly overtakes his own. He wasn’t wrong when he thought the socks must be protecting some really ticklish feet because Cal lifts things with the Force several times involuntarily while getting tickled. It isn’t hard to see why either, despite the last ten or so years on the run, the feet are soft and sensitive.
Kid's lucky he’s a merciful man and doesn’t just focus on the toes because it’s obvious pretty quick those are his worst spots. The pad of each one is like a thermal detonator waiting to go off and he flicks at them here and there but not too often, only when he thinks Cal is getting used to the tickling. Other than them the rest of the kid’s feet are fair game, he scratches at Cal’s heels and the balls of his feet and pokes at the arches, earning a steady stream of laughter and squirming but never pulling away.
Cal isn’t even smart enough to keep his mouth shut and provokes him to new heights and he finds he really has no problem dishing out as much tickling as he can, moving up and down the kid’s body from his feet to his neck. In fact it isn’t until Cal yawns during his revisit to the terrible ticklish toe pads, one so powerful it overtakes his laughter and causes Greez to stop. He glances at the boy and Cal looks...probably tired enough to hibernate. Letting go of the kid’s feet he rubs a hand over the back of his neck and says awkwardly, “Sorry about that kid I guess I got carried away.”
He gets a hoarse chuckle, “You could say that.”
He hesitantly reaches out and smooths some of the silky reddish hair. He decides not to comment when Cal leans against his hand ever so slightly. “Well I’ll just see myself out, you’d better actually sleep now.”
The grin lingers, “I don’t think I'll have a problem with that thanks to you.”
He nods approvingly and goes to leave, but as he does Cal speaks again.
“Hey Greez?”
“Yeah?” He half turns to face the kid who’s now laying back, propped up on his elbows with an expression half thoughtful and half shy.
“You’re not as mean as you look.”
He reaches out and tweaks the kid’s big toe and replies, “You’re not as tough as you look kid, now I’m serious, go to bed or the metal monster and I will pin you down and make you.”
BD gives a pleased sound beep but hops over to Cal and snuggles up against his chest. Cal lays down fully and with a sigh Greez fixes the blanket over them. Gentle snores fill the room as he’s closing the door. He didn’t expect the kid to be so ticklish, much less get so much enjoyment out of it. It-well it’s kind of cute actually the way he let down his guards and looked like a blasted kid for a bit. He could get used to the Mantis being filled with that laughter too. It might be nice.
Cal groans as he leans against the huge tree trunk. He puts the electro-binoculars up to his face and looks down at the imperial outpost below. Nothing’s happened for hours and despite constantly reminding himself that a Jedi is patient, he’s beginning to get restless and maybe a little bored. One of Saw Gerrera’s people suggested checking out this place, intel apparently said they had a lot of recent wookie warrior captives and it may give a lead to Tarfful’s whereabouts.
He’s starting to doubt that intel now because so far this outpost seems to exist only to harvest the apparently extremely explosive sap. At the very least that’s the only thing he’s seen them do and it’s mind numbing. Playing with something so explosive should at least be more interesting than it is.
Apparently BD agrees because for the past few hours the little droid has paced the branch. For a while he was challenging some alarmingly large beetles. That at least was kind of funny to watch but then the droid moved on to stepping on as many leaves as it could find, apparently the crunch was satisfying. It was less amusing but only because the droid looked at him after each one with a certain smugness that was vaguely annoying.
He’s been half meditating and half day dreaming for a while now, checking once in a while but he’s been distracted. He’s pulled too by something nudges against the bottom of his foot. He flinches and pulls it away but when the same thing happens to the other, he looks down and sees BD1 nudging his foot and a grin, not related to the tickling breaks out on it.
"Cut it out Buddy."
The little droid buzzes, beeps, and whirls at him, concerned at his reaction apparently and he chuckles. "No problems, I'm working as intended, I promise."
More beeps and he laughs again. "It’s some weird thing we fleshy guys have. It's called being ticklish."
Another series of beeps and he replies, "No, it's just something silly we do."
More noises and he says, "It's sort of like...think of it like when you got into Greez's repair kit and got shocked by one of his electro welders. Remember you told me it got your circuits feeling fuzzy? It's like that, we feel all fuzzy on that place."
BD1's reply leads him to think a moment before saying, "I mean...our feet, sides, underarms, it depends on the person."
An excited trill from the droid presents him with a choice, he’s bored, extremely, but is he this bored? Maybe, he could very well have grown out of it. "I don't know buddy...it's been a long time, I'm not really suRE! Hey cut it ouHouT."
Apparently not willing to take a wishy-washy answer the droid helped himself, bumping his body up against the Jedi's socked foot, with or without permission.
Cal pulls his leg back but that just leads to the little droid targeting the other and nuzzling up against it in a surprisingly tickly way.
"BDhEhEhEHe! STAhAp!" The little droid manages to keep up his persistent attack and the young Jedi finds himself surprised by the tenacity of his partner.
It isn't until he grabs the droid with both hands and lifts him up that he manages to stop the droid who warbles at him in confusion.
"Laughter doesn't mean I'm enjoying it." His voice is very dry, like Master Taro's before coffee.
A few curious beeps from the droid and Cal sighs, “Is it really that fascinating to you?” He can’t understand it but then again, droids are often interested in weird things.
Another series of warbles and beeps and Cal replies teasingly, “I dunno BD, I might be pretty ticklish, I don’t know if I want you playing around.”
Apparently not understanding the teasing BD makes a sad trilling sound and hangs its head and Cal sighs, “Relax buddy, I was kidding. Here.” Setting the little droid down and then pulling off his socks. He hesitates for a moment and it occurs to him that he’s seventeen and probably should feel a little more embarrassed about this.
He balls the socks up and shoves them in his boot. The whole time the little droid watches him in curious silence. When he extends his legs, face as red as his hair he mumbles. "Go on and have your fun."
The droid looks at his feet and then back at him and then lets out an excited warble and hops over to them, Cal thinks he hears the droid purring, and then nuzzles up against them.
He's not sure when he became so sensitive, if it's a by-product of reconnecting with the Force or if he's always been this bad, and that's so much more embarrassing to think about lie that, but whatever the cause, the smooth, metallic body, cool against his warm feet, is extremely effective.
So much so that he nearly kicks the droid and sends him off the tree...which would be bad, very bad since without BD1 he can't find what Master Cordova is trying to lead him too.
Usually he'd say he'd miss the droid but right ow BD1 seems intent on making him not feel that.
Now he's just worried about damaging the little machine but rather than stop, the droid manages to step it up, finding a way to tickle even more by sticking out his hacky spinny droid part which he uses to poke at Cal's feet, getting more laughter.
To add insult to injury the droid beeps a few times and when his tickled brain pieces the droid speech together he blushes deeper and laughs out, "TWhehArP!IhEHECAhaheNStheheHEillCrhAhAshYohohU!"
It's an empty threat but one he makes anyway and the smugness of the droids next chatter makes him not not feel bad for it but he's too busy laughing and also making sure he doesn't move too far from the center of the branch he's perched on.
Apparently though, besides having a surprisingly sassy program built up somewhere, BD is also pretty creative because Cal suddenly feels a very tickly shock shoot though his foot and a glance through his tears confirms the little pest is actually shocking his foot with what he can only assume is a very low voltage and it serves to not only tickle him itself, but also senstizes his feet which they really don't need.
Of course that just pleases the little droid all the more and he continues his assault. Cal bites his lips but the shocks leave his feet feeling tingly which means that the pokes and prods mess with him even more.
It's then that the little droid gets a new, and for Cal, terrible idea and bends it's little head to use the antennas sticking off the top of his head. Alone they don't tickle as much but both of them trace over his soles at the same time messes with him.
Worse, BD takes the creativity to a new level and mixes nuzzling with bumping his head, either inadvertently or purposely mixing up the sensations between the antennas dragging across his soles and poking them.
He very nearly kicks the droid off the branch again and one of the thin antennas accidentally slips between two of his toes. He has to clap a hand over his mouth to keep the laughter in. Once again the little droid proves he's much too clever for his own good, or more importantly Cal's, because after that, the droid abandons using his antennas and switches back to his original tool of Cal's voluntary humiliation.
However rather than just random pokes, the droid seems to have learned and goes right for his toes, or in this case between them and Cal nearly faints from how much is tickles and how much he can't laugh. It borders on agonizing and he ends up pulling his feet back, carefully sheltering them from the adamant little machine which he scoops up, earning him some disappointed trilling.
"Shh BD, you're going to give us away if you keep up."
A cheeky trill comes back to him. Cal rolls his eyes and nudges him. "Yea, yea, I'm going to give us away."
Another warble, more questioning this time and Cal's face flushes dark red. "Haven't you learned enough?"
The reply makes him even redder. "Fine, we'll, we'll see about it when we get back."
The whistle is definitely smug as he sets the droid down to pull on his socks and boots. He reaches over to give his partner a nudge and replies, "You're lucky your cute ya know that?"
Another smug reply has him rolling his eyes. "Sure, sure. Just hope at the next workbench I don't decide to get some payback."
“Got the girl? Check! Beat the bad guy? Check! Made your best bud the happiest genie that ever lived? Check and thank you for that! So why are you here moping around?”
Aladdin turns around from his perch, leaning on the rail in his old hideout with the view of the palace and to face Genie. His huge blue friend hovers in front of the entrance to the hideaway watching the human with concern.
He summons a smile and plays it off. “I’m not moping, I just needed to breath away from all the glamour. If you spend too much time around it you you start thinking in jewels and silks.”
The blue face looks at him expectantly. It was as if Genie could see right through him...something Aladdin confessed he thought might be true.
“You needed time away from high living so you dressed up in your old clothes and came back to your old stomping ground? Come on, give me something I believe.”
It still amazes him how transparent he is to the magic being but he gives a sheepish smile since he’s been caught in the act. “I guess I’m just scared.”
“You scared? Of what? Jaffar is in a lamp and he’s never gunna get free.”
“I know but now I have to face what comes next. I’m marrying Jasmine, and I don’t think I could be happier about that but I’m also marrying a princess and…” He sort of trails off and looks at Genie helplessly. Luckily he doesn't need to explain, Genie’s already figured some of it out.
“You’re worried about being a prince and the responsibilities of running a kingdom?”
“That and losing myself and my freedom. I mean I never would have met Jasmine if she hadn’t felt so stifled in the palace. What if I get that way, lose my freedom and myself in the responsibilities?”
“Ya worry too much Al, that’s nevah gunna happen.”
“But that’s just it Genie, what if it does? I could become like Jafar, maybe not evil, but so devoted to my job or my own gain that everything else loses meaning. Or like all of the other ministers who just exist and don’t live. Or maybe I’ll end up like the Sultan, you know, so pressured by work that I crack and make the wrong decisions.”
Genie didn’t reply immediately, Aladdin chanced a look at him and saw him deep in thought before replying slowly, “I guess I can’t promise that none of that will happen. Anything is possible, like magic carpets or a monkey smarter than the guards of a palace or a street kid falling in love with a princess and marrying her. I can say that with the pout your sportin right now it’s a wonder anyone falls for ya, comeon where’s that smile I love.” By the end Genie isn’t speaking with measured words, his own smile is back and he’s closing the distance between boy and spirit.
Aladdin feels a slight smile creep onto his face, something about his blue friend’s is infectious. Genie now floats right in front of him and comments upon seeing the weak smile, “Isn’t that better, I’ll tell ya one thing Al, anymore pouting like that and you’ll give yourself a scowl Jafar would be proud of, and as your friend I can’t let that happen!”
And then he strikes. Honestly Aladdin should have known something was coming, Genie was being too serious but the massive blue fingers in his ribs take him by surprise! He lets out a yelp and tries to stumble away but Genie is craftier than he looks and has Aladdin pinned between him and the rail, with nowhere to go. Either he planned this all along or it just worked out nicely for him but in any case Aladdin bears the brunt of Genie’s genius tickling! The fingers dance up and down his ribs at a rapid pace.
Aladdin of course dissolves into a laughing mess, “GEhehEHEhEnie!StAHahahAhAp!”
“Hmm, I’ll think about it.” The insincerity in his voice tells Aladdin he’s in for it, and so does the shift to his sides. Right about now he wishes he’d worn anything else other than his old clothes, almost anything else would offer better protection against tickling!
“Wow Al, seems all those times they tried to catch you all those guards really needed to do was tickle you a little!”
“NoHoAhAhtFuHAhunNY!”
“Sure? You seem to think it’s hilarious!” Through his squinted eyes he’s able to see the manic grin Genie sports; oh he is not getting out of this any time soon. Genie pushes the flaps of his vest aside to gain better access at the tender ribs and sides and plowed into them.
“NoHoAhAoFAhAhAhaiR!”
To his relief the tickle crazed genie lays off for a moment. Then he hears what the blue creature has to say on the topic of fairness, “You’re right it isn’t fair. Here I am limiting myself to these boring means of tickling when you really need a good laugh. I’ll step it up!”
“Wait, no!”
He tries to slip away but it’s too late Genie is already working his magic, manifesting dozens of feathers of all shapes and sizes, some so fluffy Aladdin doubted they could help anything fly and others stiff enough he wonders if they’re feathers at all! Of course there’s only one place this is going and he doesn't like it but that isn’t enough to stop them from all descending on him in a frenzy. Some twist around his neck, others his sides, several at his belly and a few at the backs of his knees. These are the the really fluffy ones and he feels every soft projection on his skin.
These are one kind of tickling, very light, gracefully dancing around him like they’re performing. Two at a time they rise up to tickle under his chin and then split off around his neck in different sides. Then they drop down to touch the back of his knees, somewhere he didn’t even know he was ticklish and which is only mitigated by his baggy pants. From there they travel up to graze his sides, then around to race across his belly and finally up again to his neck. The whole cycle is a rush of sensations and he doesn’t remember the last time he laughed so hard.
Of course this all is too plain for Genie, his big blue friend is nothing if not a performer and a show off, both usually endearing and right now still impressive but not what Aladdin wants. In addition to the first cycle, the stiff feathers have their own cycle set up, perfectly times with the one other. This one starts at his belly button where one feather teases the sides of his naval while another investigates inside. The one on the outside scratches lightly with its end and the one inside swirls around in the vulnerable skin.
They break from there and move up to an armpit apiece and here the cycle becomes less regular than its counterpart. Sometimes the feathers at this point go right into the hollows and scratch away merrily and other times they target the delicate skin just below said hollow and some enthusiastically switch back and forth. The feathers aren’t synchronized with each other at this part either so what’s happening to one side isn’t always what’s happening to the other. The unpredictability is what really makes this spot stand out and keeps his laughter pouring out.
After the armpits they move down a little and poke at each rib before moving to his feet. Here they slide from heel to toes and then once again become unpredictable and they never behave the same way twice. One set sawed between each toe, another flipped around and scratched against his soles in a single but devastatingly ticklish course and still another set made sure to weave between his toes, under one and then above the next, under, and then over and finally under again, before pulling out from one side, tickling every toe again as it passed on it’s way out.
Naturally under these conditions, it doesn't take Aladdin long to beg but Genie’s slow to answer, or maybe just slower than he wants. When he does though, Aladdin leans against the rail panting. He glares up at Genie, who’s the picture of innocents, of course.
“Oh what’s the dirty look for Al? Ya needed some laughs and I brought them.”
Aladdin opens his mouth to say he could have done it without the tickling but the fight doesn’t seem worth it, Genie will still be Genie and Aladdin isn’t really angry with him.
Besides the tickling seems to have worked. He still feels the pressure of his worries but it seems less now, more manageable. He’s lost in thought for a moment on his future again. He will rule Agrabah one day with Jasmine but that’s in the future and he has time to learn how to before then. Losing his freedom to palace life, well he got here no problem and he’s had years of practice escaping the guards when they were more hostile to him, doing it now and in the future won’t be any harder. As for losing himself in the court in the manic way Jafar did, well he’ll always have Genie and Jasmine to pull him back if it ever starts.
Genie pulls him out of his musing, “It’s getting dark and Jasmine’ll worry if your not back soon.” Aladdin nods and makes for the exit. He turns before he leaves and calls back, “Hey Genie? I owe you one, thanks.”
The blue spirit grins wide and replies, “What are friends for Al? Next time you get into that mood, hollar and I’ll come and tickle you out of it!”
“Sure Genie, whatever you say.” He might have to do that sometime, but he’ll cross that bridge when it comes. In the meantime he’ll make the most of life and see where it leads him.
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