☆ the tickle tax ☆
lees!eddy, double d / lers!kevin, rolf ๋ ࣭ ⭑๋ ࣭ ⭑ wordcount : 1950
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The day had started perfectly.
Eddy’s scam had gone flawlessly.
It was a fool proof idea, pitting Kevin and Rolf against each other in a “Strength Tournament”. A competition to determine once and for all who is “The Mightiest Kid of the Cul-de-Sac.”
The entry fee? 50 scents per challenger, and 25 cents per spectator.
Eddy, to sweeten the deal, promises the winner a “custom-made trophy” and “legendary neighborhood bragging rights.”
And now? Now they were filthy stinkin’ rich!
“Can you believe it? A dollar 75!” Eddy cackled, holding the bills to his cheek like it were his first-born child. “We actually got those buffoons to believe that crap! What a bunch of saps. And we didn’t even need Ed to do the heavy lifting this time!”
“I do feel rather guilty,” Double D admitted, nervously adjusting his sock hat. “Perhaps we should return the funds and explain-”
“No way, Sockhead,” Eddy cut in, slipping the cash into his pocket. “We earned this. Fair and square. Sorta.”
But even as they basked in their fleeting glory, a shadow loomed. Two shadows, in fact.
From the other end of the cul-de-sac, Kevin and Rolf approached. Kevin’s eyes were narrowed into slits behind his sunglasses, and Rolf was wielding a rake like a war banner.
“Uh oh…” Eddy whispered, going pale. “Abort mission.”
“No time!” Double D squeaked, grabbing Eddy’s arm. “Run!”
They bolted.
But they didn’t make it far. Rolf was fast on his long legs. Too fast. And Kevin cut them off with an unexpected leap over the fence with his bike. Within seconds, Double D was on his back, pinned by Rolf’s lean weight, and Eddy was face-down in the dirt, a furious Kevin straddling his legs.
“Y-You guys got the wrong idea!” Eddy babbled, wriggling under Kevin. “It was just a prank! Social experiment! Don’t kill us!”
“Oh, we ain’t gonna kill you,” Kevin sneered, cracking his knuckles.
“Oh marvelous,” Double D sighed in relief. “I was hoping this wouldn’t end in violence.”
Kevin’s grin turned wicked. “We’re just gonna tickle you until you cry.”
Double D blinked, wondering if he’d correctly cleaned his ears that morning or if Kevin had really just said what he thought he did. “I-I beg your pardon?”
“You mess with the bull,” Kevin growled, “you get the feathers.”
Before either of them could process it, it began.
Kevin dug into Eddy’s sides with both hands, fast and merciless. Eddy shrieked, his limbs flailing like a puppet as Kevin held him down easily with his weight.
“GYAAHAHAHAA! KEVIN! KEHEHEVIN, NOHOHOHO—WAIT—WAHAHAIT!!”
“Aw, poor scammer boy can’t handle a little tummy tickle?” Kevin mocked, zeroing in on the slight chub of Eddy’s waistline. “Bet this is where you keep all the lies. Right in this flabby little spot, huh?”
“SHUHUT UUHUHUHUUP!”
Kevin laughed, mean and sharp, raking his fingers up and down Eddy’s ribs like he was trying to sand them down. “Dude, you’re so ticklish it’s pathetic.”
Eddy squirmed harder, trying to twist away, but it only made the pudge on his stomach jiggle, which Kevin immediately noticed and honed in on.
“Awwww,” Kevin cooed in syrupy baby talk, slowing his fingers to light scribbles around Eddy’s belly button. “Wook at dis soft widdle tum-tum. Is dis where it tickles da most, huh? Goochy-goochy-goo!”
“KEHEHEHEVIN, DOHON’T—!!” Eddy’s face turned scarlet, the laughter now tangled with flustered squeals. “SH-SHUT UP, YOU FREAK—!!”
Kevin grinned devilishly. “Aw, is da baby Eddeh embawwassed?” he crooned mockingly. “Didn’t know you were such a squirmy lil’ giggle bug.”
“I’M NOT—!! GEHEHEHET OHOHOFF ME, JERK!!”
“Oh-ho yes you are,” Kevin said, dipping a finger into his belly button, which made him yelp. “Right here’s the sweet spot, huh? Just a chubby widdle tickle magnet.”
“KEHEHEVIN, STAHAHAHAHAP—!!”
Kevin just chuckled darkly, dragging his fingers in tight little circles around the softest spots on Eddy’s sides, right above his hips. “Man, you’ve got the body of a cartoon character. What, you hiding a stash of jawbreakers in these baby fat rolls or something?”
Eddy howled with laughter, pounding his fists weakly against Kevin’s arms. “I HAHA–HATE YOHOHOU!!”
Meanwhile, Rolf’s revenge was more… calculated.
Double D was squeaking and wriggling like a spider before Rolf had even touched him.
“Ohhh, Double Lee,” Rolf cooed, his fingers barely grazing under Edd’s chin. “Is Rolf mistaken, or are you of the tickle-blooded variety?”
“I-I assure you this is wholly unnecessary!” Edd gasped, trying to slide backward—but his legs were trapped, and his arms pinned under Rolf’s knees. “We could d-discuss this l-like gentlem- EHEHN! AHEHEE!”
Rolf had begun scribbling gently in his armpits, using only a few fingers. It was slow, deliberate, and torturously effective.
“Aha! There it is! The squeaky laugh of the guilty!”
“ROHOHOHOLFF! PLEHEHEASE– OHOH THE HUMANITY–… w-wait… ihihit isn’t that bad, in all honesty.” Double D admitted, appearing rather sheepish at his dramatic reaction.
“Not bad?” Rolf looked mock-hurt. “Oh, but Rolf has not yet begun to tickle!”
His hands skated lightly across the spot between his armpit and ribs, then trailed to the bottom row of ribs. With precise, featherlight movements, he spidered his fingertips across Double D’s stomach, eliciting high-pitched gasps and breathless giggles.
“Eek! Nohoho! Thahahat’s wuhorse than rough tickling!” Double D’s laughter was gentle and breathy, much like his usual impish giggle that he typically hid behind his hand.
“Ahh, yes. The delicate tickle always pierces the brain, Double Lee.”
Double D’s laughter was so soft and melodic that it was almost pleasant, if he weren’t dying of embarrassment.
Meanwhile, poor Eddy was kicking like a madman under Kevin.
“DUDE! DOHONT! YOHOU’RE—YOHU’RE GONNA BREAK ME!”
Kevin, smirking wide, slipped his fingers up into Eddy’s armpits. He barely grazed the sensitive skin, his fingers stilled and remained there.
“NOOOOO—GAHAHAHAHAD!! GEHET OHOHOUT OF THERE!! I’LL DO ANYTHIHIHIHING!!”
Kevin’s laugh was sharp and sadistic, amused that he didn’t even have to move his fingers to make Eddy crumble. “Anything, huh? Even apologize?”
Despite Eddy’s hysterics and desperation, he still couldn’t bring himself to atone for his behavior. He shook his head through his mirth, shaking the tears off his cheeks.
“I’m not hearin’ an apology, dork.” Kevin probed, his fingers wiggling a little deeper into the pits.
“I’M SOHOHOHORRYYYY I SCAMMED YOU!!”
Kevin nodded, satisfied, but didn’t stop. “Not enough. Beg.”
“PLEHEHEHEASE, YOU FLAT-TIRE LUNATIIHIHIIC!! I’LL GIVE THE MONEY BAHAHACK! I’LL GIVE YOU DOUBLE D TOO!”
“WHAT?!” Double D shrieked.
Rolf chuckled warmly, now ghosting his fingers across Double D’s feet. “You are already mine, Double Lee. Accept your fate.”
“NAHAHAT THE FEET! ROHOHOLFF, I’M WEARING THIN SOCKS!” Double D wailed and scrunched up his toes in a futile attempt to protect his overly sensitive soles.
“Rolf knows.”
Rolf’s grin deepened like he’d just caught a prize hog. “Ah, but these thin socks… they offer no protection at all, yes? Almost as if begging Rolf to tickle.”
“I BEG YOU, ROHOHOHOLFF- DON’T!” Double D squealed, toes curled so tightly that his socks wrinkled around them. “I-I NEED THOSE FOR BALANCE! AND—AND ARCH SUPPORT!”
“Arch support?” Rolf echoed with mock gravity. “Rolf shall support them himself!”
He fluttered his fingers across the bottoms of Double D’s socked feet, tracing the shape of his arch with maddening precision.
The reaction was immediate.
Double D squeaked like a rusty hinge and tried to buck Rolf off like a bronco, having fully lost his composure at this point, but he was firmly pinned.
“NAHAHAHAHAT THERE!! ROHOHOLF, THAHAHAT’S BARBARIC!!”
“Barbaric!?” Rolf’s fingers slowed to an insufferable pace, swirling just beneath Double D’s toes. “You insult Rolf’s tickle technique? You wound me!”
Double D screamed into his hands, trying desperately not to kick in fear of causing Rolf any bodily harm, even though he was sure he didn’t have the physical strength to do so. “YOHOHOU DON’T UNDERSTAND—THE FEET ARE SACRED!”
Rolf leaned in, “Oh, Rolf understands perfectly.” He said as he gripped the cuff of Double D’s perfectly tucked socks and began peeling them back, agonizingly slow.
“W-WA-WAIT—R-ROLF—PLEASE!” Double D’s voice cracked with sheer panic as his bare heels were exposed to the cool air. “I-I HAVE DELICATE SKIN CONDITIONS!”
“And Rolf has delicate intentions,” he whispered devilishly, slipping the socks off completely. “Ahhh. Like potatoes straight from the garden. So smooth. So scrub-worthy.”
Double D clapped his hands over his face in secondhand embarrassment. “THAHAHAT’S NOT A COMPLIMENT!”
Rolf ignored him and started a slow, deliberate tickle, one finger sliding up the center of Edd’s sole while the other danced at his heel.
Edd shrieked like a teakettle. “EEEEEEEEK!! THAHAHAHAT’S THE WOHOHORST PART!! ROHOHOLF!! YOU SAID YOU WERE DONE!”
“Rolf says many things, Double Lee. Some of them true. Some of them ticklish lies.”
He pinched gently at the soft skin beneath Double D’s toes, and the poor boy nearly ascended.
“THIHIHIHIS IS INHUUUUMANE!!”
“Truly, Rolf should be arrested,” the farm boy agreed with a sage nod, though he didn’t stop. “But alas, this is justice.”
Double D’s laughter melted into breathless, high-pitched giggles. His feet twitched helplessly in Rolf’s grasp, toes splaying and curling with every calculated scratch and swirl of a fingertip.
“IHIHIHI’M GONNA LOHOHOSE MY MIIIND!!”
“I think you lost it when you agreed to Eddy’s scam,” Kevin called over with a grin, now lounging lazily atop a thoroughly wrecked Eddy. “Shoulda known better, dork.”
“DOHOHON’T LAUGH AT ME—” Double D tried, before a squeaky hiccup escaped his mouth.
Rolf froze. “What was that?”
“W-Whahat?” Double D blinked rapidly, trying to recover his composure through his hiccuping giggles.
“That noise. The hiccup. Do you always do that when the tickles reach your brain stem?”
“I-I don’t knohohohow!!” Double D wailed, kicking again as if he could burrow into the dirt and disappear.
“Interesting,” Rolf said solemnly. “Rolf must investigate further.”
“NOOOOOOO!!”
Double D’s face flushed red as his laughter turned breathy and helpless. “I’M SOHOHORRY! PLEHEHEASE! I’LL NEVER LIE AGAHAIN!”
Finally, after several long minutes of cruel, hysterical punishment, the tickling stopped.
The boys lay in the grass—sweaty, twitching, breathless wrecks.
“Whuh…wh-what caused you to finally desist?” Double D mumbled, blinking dizzily.
Kevin pulled a small camcorder from his back pocket and gave it a little wave. “Because we got what we came for.”
Eddy’s eyes widened. “Whuh…”
“Oh yeah,” Kevin grinned. “We filmed the whole thing, Impractical Jokers style. You begging. Screaming. Sounding like little girls. And your worst spots being revealed. This baby’s going straight into the blackmail vault.”
“Nooooo,” Eddy groaned in humiliation, hiding his face in his hands.
“And you,” Rolf said, gently patting Double D’s cheek, “have the sweetest laugh Rolf has ever heard. Rolf will cherish this footage.”
“Oh, the indignity,” Double D muttered, mortified as he tried to hold onto his decorum.
Kevin leaned in close. “You two ever gonna scam us again?”
“We won’t,” Eddy and Double D said in perfect unison, with Eddy crossing his fingers behind his back mischievously, undeterred even by torture.
Kevin stood up, satisfied. “Cool. Then maybe we won’t make copies,” He said, narrowing his eyes. “Maybe.”
Rolf stood as well, brushing himself off as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. “Come, Kevin. Let us celebrate justice with Rolf’s perfectly aged goat cheese. Is quite good for digestive system, yes.”
“Whatever you say, man.”
The two walked off, leaving the boys crumpled in the grass.
Eddy turned to Double D, already recovered enough to start the blame game. “This is all your fault.”
“My fault?! You’re the one who-”
They paused. Looked at each other. And each saw an expression of dread on the other's face.
“We have to get that recording back,” they said in unison.
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a/n: goodbye earthlings! ๋࣭ ⭑⚝🛸๋࣭ ⭑⚝
