• The TMF is sponsored by Clips4sale - By supporting them, you're supporting us.
  • >>> If you cannot get into your account email me at [email protected] <<<
    Don't forget to include your username

The TMF is sponsored by:

Clips4Sale Banner

Here's one for all you "House" fans - M/F

Eternal Tomboy

TMF Master
Joined
Aug 5, 2001
Messages
980
Points
16
Here’s a fictional story based on the TV show “House” starring Hugh Laurie. While watching the show the other night, it prompted me to wonder – just what kind of ‘ler would Dr. House be? I don’t know about you girls, but I love the Dr. House character, and think that his gruff persona and sarcastic wit makes him very attractive (and those killer blue eyes don’t hurt either!) It was a short time after watching the episode that the idea for this story started to come together in my head. Hope you like reading it as much as I liked writing it!

As always, feedback is much appreciated!

~Maggie


--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

My discomfort around medical professionals wasn’t quite a phobia, but it was a strong enough fear to make having an annual physical something that was put on my to-do list, but never done. In fact, it had remained on the very bottom of my to-do list for well over a decade. The last time I met with a doctor, I was forced to get a physical and update my shots because without it, they wouldn’t let me into college. The trauma of that event (mostly because of the needles) was severe enough to make me avoid doctors like they were doling out diseases rather than cures.

But I wasn’t a kid anymore, and being an official thirty-something meant that ailments like high blood pressure or high cholesterol were more than a possibility, they were a genetic probability. As the years passed, more and more of my family members were succumbing to illnesses related to blood pressure, heart, or cholesterol related problems, and I just couldn’t ignore my own health any longer. Ignorance might have been bliss, but it would also probably lead to clogged arteries and heart disease if I let it go unchecked for too much longer. It was my father’s heart attack, and subsequent triple bypass surgery, that made me finally make my very overdue appointment with a doctor that my best friend, Grace, had recommended - Dr. House. She said that his bedside manner resembled that of a bear woken too early from it’s winter slumber, but when it came to diagnosing a problem and finding it’s solution, there was none better. I wondered whether an abrasive doctor like this was the right choice, given my fear, but I trusted that my friend knew what she was talking about.

The long wait in the waiting room didn’t do much to ease my fears of what lay in wait for me beyond the receptionist’s desk. In fact, as the minutes ticked passed, I could feel my anxiety level increasing, and the medical scenarios that were playing out in my head grew so gruesome that they began to resemble the plot lines in a Stephen King novel. I was seconds away from getting up and running out the door when the receptionist called my name.

I startled, and dropped my unread magazine (which I held in my hand to give the illusion of nonchalance to the other patients in the waiting room), “Yes?”

“The doctor is ready for you.” The woman in green scrubs said with a smile.

I could barely hear her reply over the sound of my own heartbeat, now pounding loudly in my ears. “Oh… great.” I said with a bad attempt at a smile on my face.

Sensing my uneasiness, the woman offered a soft pat on my shoulder as I walked by her and said, “Don’t worry, his bark is worse than his bite… most of the time, anyway.”

“Good to know.” I said, with a laugh that wasn’t any more genuine than my smile.

I was told to take off my shoes, socks, and shirt (but was given the gift of allowing my shorts and bra to remain on). I was then given a Pepto-Bismol colored gown to put on over what remained of my clothing. I was mesmerized by the hideous color of the gown, and was wondering if the male patients were forced to drape themselves in the same eyesore-pink color during their check-ups or if there was an equally hideous blue version. It was during these musings that I heard an abrupt knock on the door.

“Come in.” I said lamely, as if I was answering the door of my own house.

The doctor that entered wasn’t what I was expecting. From my best friend’s description (of his personality), I pictured a crotchety old man that resembled the character Scrooge in Charles Dickens’ novel. Nothing could have been further from the truth - in fact, if we were in a bar rather than a medical office, I would be trying to figure out a way to either get his attention or his phone number before the night was over. He was probably in his mid-forties, tall, a bit scruffy around the edges, had piercing blue eyes, and I could see the hint a dimple on his cheek, although I knew that given his disposition, it probably wasn’t seen very often. Oddly enough, Dr. House’s attractiveness only served to worsen my level of discomfort, because not only was I fearful of the examination, I was now also self conscious about whether or not I had groomed myself well enough for his close scrutiny. I was silently thanking God that I had shaved, deodorized, and moisturized this morning, while Dr. House checked over all my paperwork (that I had filled out during my rather lengthy stay in the waiting room).

Skipping the introduction portion of our meeting, Dr. House went right into Q & A. “FIFTEEN years? Seriously? Why in the world haven’t you been to see a doctor in the last FIFTEEN years?” He said in a tone that sounded as if my absence from the medical field was taken as a personal affront.

“Um, well…. I’m not really all that…. Comfortable around doctors.” I said, trying to search for the right words to both explain my fear and diffuse his apparent anger at my negligence.

“Hm.” He muttered, not looking up from my chart. “Hardly a reason to put your health at risk, especially given your family’s poor medical history.” He said, continuing to flip through my paperwork.

My nervousness hit a fever pitch when I realized that I was more likely to hit the lottery than get an ounce of sympathy from this man, and I was ready to risk running out of his office and being seen in public in my new Pepto-colored dress just to escape him. “Um… yeah, I know. I just…” I stammered. My hands were fidgeting with the strings on my gown, and I was looking down into my lap to avoid eye contact…. If he should ever actually make any, that is. My heart continued to gallop wildly in my chest.

It must have been my pregnant pause that made him finally look up at me. He let out an exaggerated sigh, and put down my chart. “You just….” He said and made a motion with his hand as if to sign “c’mon, spit it out”.

I could feel the weight of his stare, and chanced a glance of my own in his direction. His blue eyes seemed to look right through mine and quickly assess the thought processes behind them. I looked away quickly, not wanting to reveal too much. “I just….” I started again, now wrapping the gown’s string so tightly around my index finger that the tip was starting to turn purple. “… would rather eat dirt than go to the doctor.” I blurted out before I had the chance to censor myself. But then quickly added, “No offense.”

A smile flashed briefly across his face, so fast that I thought I had imagined it. “I don’t take offense too easily. In fact, it’s usually my job to do the offending.”

I had to laugh at his honesty. “So I’ve heard.” I joked back.

“You’re not the only one around here that’s heard things, you know.” He said with what looked to me like a devilish expression on his face. But before I had a chance to ask for clarification, he continued. “Well, there’s a potted plant over in the corner, so you’re welcome to eat whatever dirt is in there. Or you can take your chances at surviving an examination from me. Your call. Doesn’t bother me either way.”

I pondered my options for a minute, although I didn’t voice my third option of escape to Dr. House. “I guess I’ll take my chances.” I said and then tried to take a deep breath to calm my nerves. It didn’t work.

“Oh goody.” He said sarcastically. Then he went to gather a couple supplies that looked as though they were used to take a blood sample.

My heart rate began to climb again and a flurry of nervous butterflies sprung to life in my stomach. “Uh…. What’s that for?” I tried to ask casually, but my voice cracked mid-way through the sentence.

He looked over at me, and laid the supplies back down on the counter. “I suppose you have a fear of needles as well. This must be my lucky day.”

I couldn’t offer him any reason for my phobia, so I just stayed quiet and fidgeted, exchanging the gown’s string with a lock of my hair that I now wound tightly around one of my fingers.

“Okay, fine. How about we start things off with something easier. You don’t have a fear of stethoscopes, do you?”

“No.” I said, getting a little pissed off that he continued to make sarcastic jokes at my expense despite my obvious discomfort.

He walked over to where I was sitting on the examination table and pressed the cold stethoscope to my chest. “Hm. Well, if you had just run a marathon, I’d say you’re heart rate was normal. But since you probably drove here, I’d say that you might want to take a few deep breaths to try and calm yourself down before you pass out.”

“Okay.” I said and tried to breathe deeply, but couldn’t. I could feel myself starting to get light-headed. I felt like I my body was gently swaying back and forth, although I couldn’t tell if the sensation was real or just imagined. Then I felt both his hands on my shoulders, and I realized that he must have been trying to steady me.

“Lie back before you fall off the table. My insurance doesn’t cover that kind of injury… unless I’m the one to push you off.” He said and gently guided me back to a reclined position. “Now breathe.”

I tried, but couldn’t manage to take anything more than rapid shallow breaths. I felt like I was on the verge of a panic attack, but wasn’t sure because I had never experienced one before… probably because I had successfully avoided going to the doctor until now!

“Okay, plan B.” He said and then took both of his hands and quickly tickled my ribcage for a couple of seconds.

The shock of the sudden ticklish sensation jolted through me like electricity. I took in a large gasp of air and let out a surprised yelp, but he stopped before he forced a laugh out of me.

“Hey, whadda ya know, that worked even better than a crash cart. Are you ticklish by any chance? I’m only asking because I couldn’t tell if that was a what-the-hell-are-you-doing response, or a ticklish one.”

I could feel my face grow warm and I knew I must have been turning various shades of red – which was a fairly standard response when anyone asked me that particular question. “What does that have to do with anything?” I asked, trying to deflect his question.

“Well, since we’re answering questions with questions, and getting nowhere I might add, how about answering me why you just blushed crimson when I asked you about being ticklish.” He said and narrowed his gaze at me. It looked like he was trying to study my unspoken reactions further. I felt like I was a specimen trapped in an enormous Petri dish.

My face grew even warmer than before under his intensified scrutiny. I hated the fact that there was no way to camouflage my reaction to his questions. I have been told countless times in the past, from various people, that often times my facial expressions and body language spoke much louder than my words. In short, I was an open book to anyone who was even mildly observant. And this was doubly true when the subject centered on tickling. “Did I?” I asked, continuing our inquisitive game of cat and mouse.

He got a smirk on his face. He seemed amused (or was it annoyed?) by the challenge I presented of withholding answers from him – it was my guess that most people gave him what he wanted, when he wanted it. “Yeah, just a bit. Okay, I’ll make this easy on you. Does this tickle?” He asked and tickled my ribcage again, this time long enough to get me to squirm and giggle. “I’ll take that as a yes. My next question is… and you actually have to answer this one… do you have more of an aversion to being examined or being tickled?”

No matter how hard I tried, my face continued to blush red hot. “Examined, definitely.” Was all I could admit to.

“Wow, a straight answer. Wonders never cease. Okay, this is how we’re going to get you through this physical, and prevent you from hyperventilating - which I’m pretty sure my malpractice insurance doesn’t cover either. I’m going to tickle you every time I see you getting nervous because in this case, laughter really is the best medicine. It will force you to breathe regularly and keep you from tensing up to the point where we have to stop the examination. And given the fact that it’s been a ridiculously long period of time since your last physical, I think it’s important to finish this exam so we can find out if you are at as great a risk for heart disease as the other members of your family.”

The butterflies in my stomach had invited over all their little butterfly aunts, uncles, grandparents, and second cousins, and all of them were now throwing the mother of all butterfly reunions in there. It was impossible to stop blushing, and grinning at my (still) stone faced doctor – I suddenly felt like I was a fifteen year-old schoolgirl with a crush. Despite Dr. House’s rather gruff personality, I couldn’t ignore the unbelievable urge I had to kiss him. “But what if I can’t stay still?”

He gave me the same devilish grin from earlier in our meeting, and opened up a small cubbyhole in the side of the examination table and showed me the restraints that were actually built into the table. “Not a problem.” He responded, matter-of-factly.

I let out a nervous giggle, “Are those restraints? What the heck are you doing with restraints in your office?”

“You think you’re the only difficult patient I’ve ever had? I had a patient with a severely infected wound on her foot once, but despite the pain she was in, she was also very ticklish to the touch in that area, and I couldn’t clean and dress the wound without her nearly kicking me in the face. Even though I don’t feel the need to smile all that often, I’d still kind of like to hold onto all my teeth – mostly for chewing purposes. So I had to restrain her.”

“Well, I promise not to kick you.” I said, but wondered if I could actually follow through with that promise. I’ve never had to hold still while being tickled before, so this was going to be uncharted territory for me. Tickling and wrestling (or at the very least tickling back) kind of went hand-in-hand with me.

“I don’t plan on giving you the opportunity.” He said smugly. “Lace your fingers behind your head, and try to keep them there.” He ordered, falling back into his gruff manner.

I did as I was told, and although my body remained still, I could feel my insides starting to rev up again. Now that all the tickle talk had ceased, and silence permeated the room again, the nervous butterflies, along with my heart rate, began to flutter. Dr. House pulled out his stethoscope and listened to my heart. “Better, but not good enough.” He said and tickled one of my underarms.

A laugh escaped my mouth, and my hand immediately shot down protectively to my side, accidentally slapping him (hard) on the shoulder on the way down. “Oh shit, I’m so sorry! I didn’t’ mean to do that!” I said, completely embarrassed.

“Well, it was better than a kick in the face, but I’d still like to avoid any bodily injury if I can. Let’s just hold this one hand in place, and we’ll leave the other three limbs free… at least for now.” He said and took out the wrist cuff for the side of the table that he was on.

“Um… okay.” I said, eager to prevent any further embarrassment.

He was standing on my left side, so he cuffed my left wrist so it was held firm above my head. “Try and keep that other hand behind your head. If you can’t, at least this time I’m out of striking distance.” He listened to my heart for a third time. “We’re getting there.” He said and tickled up and down my left side, all the while leaving the stethoscope in place.

My arm immediately made motions to come down, but this time, it was held in place. After a few seconds of being tickled, and no longer being able to make it stop, the laughter started to bubble out of my mouth but I tried to hold it back because I didn’t know if he would be able to hear my heart if I laughed too loud. His tickling fingers hit the spot between my last rib and my hipbone, and I couldn’t quiet the laughter any longer – a loud yelp and stream of laughter exploded out of my mouth. After a few more seconds of concentrated tickle torture on this spot, he relented but continued to listen to my heart. My laughter quieted down to soft giggles, and my breathing steadied for the first time since I walked into the building.

“I’ll have to remember that spot. Your heart rate is finally down to a normal range.”

“That’s good, I guess. Although I’d rather you didn’t have to do that again… it was a bit too intense.”

“Well, the distraction has to be as intense, or even more so, than the phobia, otherwise it won’t do much good. Moving on.” He said abruptly, and continued with his exam. “Open your mouth.” He ordered.

Again, I did as I was told. Him checking my throat was about as benign as the stethoscope, so my nerves were kept at bay, at least for the moment. He seemed satisfied by whatever he found down there, as well as by my cooperation. He then took out his otoscope to check inside my ears. When the scope made contact with the inside of my left ear, my shoulders scrunched up reflexively, and I started to giggle.

“I wasn’t even trying to tickle you that time.” He said.

“It’s not my fault, you got me started.” I said in my defense.

“Oh, let’s not start the blame game, okay? I think we know who’ll win that one. I wouldn’t have had to start you at all if you would just realize that I’m here to help and not hurt.”

He used his free hand to turn my head to the right so that the side of my head was held in place against the table. He then inserted the scope again, and got the same ticklish response. Up until this point, I had no idea that the inside of my ears were ticklish. He then walked around to the other side of the table (when my free hand was), and did the same for the other ear. The urge to use my free hand to push him away was strong, but the ticklish sensation was bearable, so I managed to keep my hand behind my head. But the giggles continued to pour out of my mouth for the duration of his examination.

Replacing the otoscope back in its holster on the wall, he went onto the next step in his examination – checking the glands around my neck. “Look straight up at the ceiling.” He said before using his fingers to gently feel around my neck. Initially, I was fine, no ticklish response. But as his fingers worked their way lower, down towards my collarbone, I could feel the giggle beginning to rise again. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried holding my breath. “Don’t tell me, let me guess - It tickles. I think I created a monster.” He said.

“I’m sorry.” I said, and let out a burst of laughter. “I’m really trying not to, but it’s like you opened up the floodgates or something, and now I can’t shut it off.”

“Well, I suppose it’s better than listening to you cry or hyperventilate. But not by much.”

I honestly couldn’t tell if he was kidding or if he was being serious. He was a tough man to gauge. He could deliver a line with such a deadpan expression on his face that it was nearly impossible for me to distinguish fact from fiction.

He walked over to the wall and turned the light off, but didn’t tell me why.

“What are you doing?” I asked, a bit nervously. I was now very aware of the fact that I still had one hand restrained to the table, and was lying there half-naked.

“Don’t worry, I’m not trying to put the moves on you or anything. I generally try not to seduce my patients… at least while they’re in my office. Might be seen as unprofessional. I’m just going to check your eyes.” He said and took out his retinoscope.

The small flashlight was the only illumination in the room, and it was heading straight for me, like a mini-train trying to keep to a tight time schedule. I instinctively backed my head away as it came within inches of my eye.

“Hold still. I’m pretty sure this won’t tickle… although with you, I can’t say for sure.” He said and came so close, I could smell his aftershave and feel his warm breath on my face. A few inches to the right and we’d be mouth to mouth – a thought that made my heart skip a few beats. “Other side.” He said and moved over to check the other eye. I was thoroughly enjoying the scent of his aftershave, a very subtle, clean smell. If it didn’t sound so much like a cheesy pick-up line, I’d have asked him what brand it was.

He backed away, walked over to the light switch, and turned it back on. The fluorescent light flooded the room without warning and made me feel like I had just been rudely awakened from a pleasant slumber. My eyes blinked back into focus.

“Done yet?” I tried to joke.

“We should both be so lucky. No, there’s still quite a bit left, unfortunately.”

“I need to do an abdominal exam. Do you think you can behave yourself without clobbering me, or do I need to restrain the other arm too?”

“I think I can control myself.” I said, although I honestly doubted that I could.

“Oh yeah, because you’ve been really in control of yourself up until now.” He said and walked over to the side of the table.

He just placed his hands (one on top of the other) on my stomach, but didn’t move them. I flinched upon contact, but relaxed when I realized that he wasn’t going to tickle me. When he felt my stomach muscles relax, he started to move his hands around my entire abdominal area, in slow kneading motions. As long as he stayed in the center, I was fine, but when his hands went near the ribcage or hips, I tensed up and held my breath.

“Keep breathing.” He said whenever I tensed up, and then he would follow up that command with a quick but deliberate tickle to the ribs. When he had finished that portion of the exam, he paused and raised one hand to the side of his face, as if deep in thought.

I thought that he had discovered something fatal during his examination, and was trying to find the right words to break it to me gently – even though that wasn’t really his style. But paranoia and fear began to creep its way back into my head again until I couldn’t stand the suspense any longer. “What? What is it? Why are you just standing there like that? What did you find? Is it serious?” I was throwing out rapid fire, panicked questions at him until he held up a hand to silence me.

“Are you always this high strung?” He asked.

“No. Just around guys in a white lab coat.” I said.

“Is that the problem? Why didn’t you say so?” He said and took off his lab coat. “Better?” He said, and added another joke at my expense.

“Not really. At least not while we’re in here. But if we were out on the street, and you approached me - yes, I’d probably be fine.”

“Well, if the fate’s are kind, neither one of us will have to worry about that. And to answer your fatalistic questions – no, I didn’t find anything wrong with you. As far as I can tell – other than being extraordinarily difficult to deal with – you’re fine.”

“Then why did you pause like that?” I asked and shot him an icy glare that in universal body language said ‘asshole’.

“I paused because I was trying to debate the best way to proceed. I need to check your lymph nodes, and because of their rather precarious locations, I was trying to find the best way to do that without getting a black eye.”

“Lymph nodes… they’re in the….” I paused, not 100% sure of where they were actually located.

“Underarms and groin, among other places. But those are the two I’m concerned about for right now. Patients far calmer than you have a hard time remaining still during this portion of the exam, so I’m not sure if you stand a chance. Any ideas?” He asked.

“Skip it?” I offered, figuring that it was the best solution.

“Not an option. Because if it turns out there is a problem there and I don’t catch it, I’ll find myself being sued for malpractice.”

“You bring up medical malpractice and insurance policies a lot – anything I should know about?” I asked, half-joking.

“Let’s allow some of the mystery to remain, it makes it more fun that way.” He said in his usual sarcastic tone of voice.

“Oh yeah, I’m having lots of fun. Whoo-hoo! I’ve been scared to death since the moment I walked into this building. I’m being semi-restrained on a cold examination table, cloaked in one of the most hideous colors I’ve ever seen, and dealing with a doctor who obviously skipped out on class the day they taught bedside manner. It’s been a laugh a minute, really.” I said in an equally sarcastic tone. I had taken so much of his shit that I finally had to retaliate with some of my own.

He cocked his head one side, but otherwise looked unruffled by my outburst. Although I could tell he was getting ready to fire back another verbal jab. “I notice you didn’t mention me having to repeatedly tickle you on your rather long list of grievances.”

The blush returned to my face, and I shied away from his stare, hoping he didn’t catch it this time. I cleared my throat and added, “Yeah, that too.”

“Hm. It’s an interesting color you turn every time I happen to mention tickling.” He stopped and waited for me to make eye contact with him. I think he enjoyed watching me squirm in obvious discomfort. He went on, “People normally blush when they’re embarrassed, but I don’t think that’s the reason in your case.”

“Can we stop all the psycho-analysis stuff, and just get on with it?” I said in an effort to change the subject. “Just cuff me, I guess.”

“You’re the boss…. Oh wait a minute, that’s not right… I’m the boss!” He said and semi-smiled at his own joke. He then got the wrist restraint out of the cubbyhole on the other side of the table and cuffed my right wrist. “Comfy?” He asked after he had both my wrists secured above my head.

“Oh yeah, totally.” I lied. An odd combination of exhilaration and terror coursed its way through my body, both fighting for dominance. My heart began to race again, but I wasn’t sure if it was because of nerves or arousal. Part of me wanted nothing more than to have Dr. House tickle the life right out of me, and the other part was terrified that he actually might. I had an abundance of nervous energy begging to be expended, but since I could no longer fidget with my hands effectively, I started to fidget with my feet, rubbing each one against the other.

“Don’t look so nervous.” He said and actually gave me a crooked grin. Granted, it only lasted a second or two, but it was the first warm gesture he made to me since I entered the room. “And stop fidgeting.” He teased, and gently tickled both my feet. My feet, still unrestrained, jumped away from his ticklish touch, and I giggled. “Ticklish there too, I see? Well, we’ll get to that in a minute.” He said and put his business-as-usual face back on.

“We’ll start with the lesser of the two evils.” He said and moved his hands up towards my underarms.

I instinctively pulled on my restraints, although he hadn’t actually touched me yet, the urge to protect myself from an impending tickle attack was strong. “That’s the lesser of the two evils?! Are you sure about that?”

“Trust me on this one.” He said without further explanation. When his fingers made contact with my left underarm, I bit my bottom lip, shut my eyes, and held my breath. “Why do I have to keep reminding you to breathe? It should be kind of instinctual.” He said and deliberately tickled my underarm long enough to get me laughing (and as a result, breathing again).

“I’m breathing! I’m breathing!” I said through my laughter and continued to struggle against the restraints.

“Good. Sure beats the alternative.” He said. Then he stopped tickling me, and went back to his examination.

My breathing was just starting to regulate itself again, when he began to gently knead the pads of his fingers into my underarm again. It didn’t tickle as much as the scribbling had, but it was enough to get me giggling again. After about thirty seconds, he changed sides. The initial contact to my right underarm was electric, and my body jumped away from him as much as the restraints would allow.

“It’s not uncommon for one side to be more ticklish than the other.” He said as if he were reading from a medical journal, and continued to move his fingers in gentle kneading circles. There was a steady stream of squeaks and giggles coming out of my mouth, but this time, I didn’t try and hold my breath to silence them because I knew what it would result in.

After the thirty-second exam was over, he said, “Onto part two… the other, and in my opinion far more dangerous, set of lymph nodes.”

“Dangerous?” I asked.

“Only for me. My risk of injury goes way up when examining this spot.” He said

“It can’t possibly be any worse than the underarms.”

“Spoken like someone who’s never been tickled there. Not only are there lymph nodes in the spot where your thigh meets your abdomen, but there are nerves there as well.”

“How bad could it be?” I asked naively.

“Let’s find out, shall we? And mind you, I’m not trying to tickle you on purpose, but that will undoubtedly be the end result.” He said, and in the same manner he used to examine my underarms, he began the same motions just below my right hip.

My ticklish response was immediate, and intense. I took in a large gasp of air, and let out a surprised exclamation, “Shit!” Had my arms not been restrained to the table, I probably would have jumped clear off upon contact.

Expecting my reaction, Dr. House managed to step back from the table a second before both my knees shot up to protect the area of examination – thankfully avoiding what would have been a painful blow to the chest. “It’s a curse to always be right.” He said smugly.

“Oh my GOD! That was insane!” I said in surprise.

“No, that was normal. It was insane that you didn’t believe me it would happen.” He said.

“I had no idea that spot even existed!” I said in my own defense.

“Well, now you know. And you should also know the reason I’m about to cuff your feet to this table.” He said without hesitation.

“Wait… I don’t know if I can do this.” I said nervously.

“I know you can’t… hence the cuffs.” He said and started taking them out of the cubbyholes at the bottom of the table.

I had no argument for allowing my last two limbs their freedom of motion, so I stayed quiet as he cuffed both my ankles firmly into place. Now completely defenseless, my mind and heart started to race. I felt like I was on a roller coaster that had reached its pinnacle and was waiting those precious few seconds at the top before plummeting down the steep drop on the other side, where an explosion of adrenaline and butterflies awaited me– a feeling I both loved and hated.

“All set?” He asked rhetorically.

“Like I have a choice.” I said.

“That makes two of us. Just remember to keep breathing.” He said.

“Breathing probably won’t be my problem this time around. I’m more worried about my screams shattering the windows in your office.” I said.

“Not to worry, I have glass coverage.” He said.

His fingers were approaching their target, but in an effort to steel myself (at least a little bit) against the overwhelming ticklish sensation, I closed my eyes and gritted my teeth together.

“It’s amusing that you think closing your eyes is going to somehow make you less ticklish. It actually makes it worse because you’ve introduced the element of surprise. If you saw it coming, your body wouldn’t be as shocked when it happened.”

“You’re probably right, but I still can’t look.” I said.

“Suit yourself. Now that you’re incapable of injuring me, it doesn’t really make a difference how much this tickles.” He said.

He started on my left side, and like before, the touch of his kneading fingers was almost unbearably ticklish. All of my limbs made an immediate effort to free themselves, but none succeeded. There were no warm-up giggles; my full-blown laughter was immediate as were my pleas for him to stop.

“Wait!” I screamed through the laughter. “Hold it!” Was all I could manage to say before the laughter took over again.

“Wait for what? Are you planning on somehow becoming less ticklish over the course of the next few minutes?” He asked and continued his examination.

“SHIT!!” I yelled and continued to laugh so hard that forming any other words became impossible.

“Nearly done.” He said calmly and switched sides.

The right side was equally ticklish, or perhaps even slightly more so because it was a new area of attack. My legs were straining hard against their bonds, wanting desperately to curl up protectively, but accomplishing little more than wiggling from side to side. Torture didn’t even begin to describe what I was suffering through during the minute or two of his unrelenting, kneading fingertips. Had I been able to form a cohesive thought in my head, I might have been thinking of ways to exact my revenge on this sadistic bastard. But as it was, the sensation of being tickled so intensely was all consuming, there simply wasn’t room for any other thoughts or feelings.

Then as abruptly as the tickling had started, it stopped. My body was awash in an electric mix of adrenaline and endorphins. I tried to steady my heart rate and breathing, but found it difficult to do so. “Oh my GOD! That was hell!” I exclaimed, although I only half-meant it.

“Really? That’s funny because I thought it was kind of fun.” He said with his usual deadpan delivery.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” I said and rolled my eyes.

“Are you trying to imply that I’m predictable?” He asked.

I actually laughed out loud. “Predictable? No, that definitely wouldn’t be a word I’d use to describe you. Had someone asked me to predict what was going to happen during this examination, I would have been way off the mark.”

“And just what did you predict?” He asked.

“Well, I would have guessed that I’d be crying hysterically or hyperventilating by now because that’s what happened the last time I saw a doctor.” I said.

“Well, you just have to know what buttons to push.” He said and quickly tickled my side.

I giggled. “I’ll give you that much, you are good at pushing buttons.”

“I think that’s what’s commonly known as a back-handed compliment.” He said with one raised eyebrow.

“Maybe just a little one.” I smiled.

“Hm. Sit tight for a sec. Not that you have a choice…” He said and left the room.

Being left alone, restrained to a table in a strange room was a bit unnerving because I knew anyone could walk in and see me. It wasn’t that I was afraid someone would take advantage of me in my helpless position, it was more that I was embarrassed for having to be restrained to a table like a mental patient just so the doctor could give me a simple physical examination. Thankfully, I wasn’t left with my paranoia for too long. Within a couple minutes Dr. House returned with some sort of electronic device that he rolled into the room on a cart.

“What’s that?” I asked before he even had the chance to close the door again.

“An EKG - a heart monitor. Completely painless, I promise. I just attach these twelve sticky pads to various places on your chest, arms, and legs. Then we turn on the machine and wait ten minutes. That’s it.”

“Um, okay.” I said, although I had doubts about the ‘completely painless’ promise. Doctors always said that, but rarely meant it.

After Dr. House attached all the electrodes to my body, he turned the machine on, and said, “Be back in ten. Why don’t you take a catnap?” He suggested and promptly left the room.

A catnap? Was he kidding? Being restrained to a table, and hooked up to a bunch of wires wasn’t exactly conducive for sleep. But true to his word, the test didn’t hurt at all. The next ten minutes crept by at a snail’s pace. It was unfortunate that a large clock on the wall was within my line of vision because I felt compelled to watch the second hand as it made it’s way slowly around the clock’s face. It was like watching grass grow, but at least it gave my mind something to occupy itself. It was better than dwelling on the same paranoia and phobia that made my mind race.


After the ten minutes were finally over, Dr. House returned to the room and closed the door behind him. He walked over to the EKG and scanned the machine’s print out for a couple seconds. “Feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I’m doing okay. Why? What does the readout say?” I asked a bit nervously.

“Well, I have to look at it a bit more closely later on, but it seems fine. I was just checking because if you were stressed at all, I could do something like this to relax you…” He said and began and all-out tickle assault on both underarms.

The playful action was so totally unexpected and out of character for him, that my laughter went immediately off the charts and I started to fight against the restraints even harder than during the lymph node examination. My knees tried desperately to shoot up towards my torso and curl into the protective fetal position, but obviously couldn’t. His tickling fingers then went on to recap all the hyper-ticklish spots he had discovered over the course of my entire physical, never staying in any one spot for more than a few seconds. He scribbled all ten of his fingers around my collarbone, underarms, ribcage, waist, and hips.

“DR. HOUSE! STAHAHAHAHA…” Was all I could scream in between my laughter and my gasps for breath. But he didn’t heed my pleas for mercy, and the tickling continued until I felt like I was either going to pass out or wet my pants. I didn’t know if it was his knowledge of human anatomy or his naturally semi-sadistic nature, but his skill at evoking an insanely ticklish reaction out of me was unmatched by anyone I had ever met before. After several minutes of this concentrated, unyielding tickle torture, my laughter fell silent. It was at this point that he took things down a notch.

“It just occurred to me that I haven’t really had the chance to find out if your legs and feet are as ticklish as your upper body. Let’s see, shall we?” He said and began to lightly scribble his fingertips down one leg until he hit the bottom of the foot, and then he worked his way up the other leg, using the same technique.

My hysterical laughter from before was replaced with one just as continuous, but far less intense. My legs were writhing on the table in a way that made me look like I was running a race, but taking baby steps the whole way to the finish line. Then he took both hands and scribbled them behind my left knee, and my laughter escalated.

“That’s a good spot.” He said and tried the same thing on the other leg. “How about here?” He asked rhetorically, and began to tickle the back of my thighs.

I let out a scream, “NOT THERE!” and then fell back into a mixture of yells and laughter.

“Not here? Would you rather I went here?” He teased and went back to tickling just below my hips, which he knew damn well I hated.

“Fuck!!” I yelled, and my laughter went from hysterical to silent and breathless in a matter of seconds.

“You have a pretty colorful language when you’re being tortured.” He said and changed locations again, this time to the bottoms of my feet.

While less intense than my thighs or hips, the ticklish laughter still continued without pause. My feet tried escaping his relentless fingertips, but were held firmly in place – swishing back and fourth like two small windshield wiper blades on a rainy day.
Then he switched from the soles to the sides and tops of my feet, which elicited another scream and a more intense level of laughter.

“That’s interesting, I wouldn’t have expected that.” He said, rather clinically and continued to tickle up and down the tops of my feet.

“Please!!” I begged through my laughter.

“Yep, that should do it. Close enough to ten minutes.” Was all he said and stopped tickling.

My body was completely overheated. Every part of me seemed covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and my hair probably looked like I had just rolled out of bed after a restless night’s sleep. My giggling and panting continued for another thirty seconds after he stopped tickling me. I wanted to ask him what the HELL that was all about, but was too out of breath to string a coherent sentence together.

He took out his stethoscope and listened to my heart for another minute or two. Then he took out the blood pressure cuff, and attached it to my right arm. After recording my heart rate and blood pressure numbers on my chart he said, “Well, you don’t have to go through a conventional stress test now. Your heart seems to work just fine under stress.”

I stared at him in stunned surprise. “Is that what that was - a stress test?! You could have told me, you know. I thought you were being sadistic for no apparent reason.” I said with a smile.

He gave me another crooked grin that neither confirmed nor denied my allegation. “This isn’t going to give you trust issues and land you on some shrink’s couch, is it?”

I laughed, “No. I think I’ll be okay. Although it may be another fifteen years before I make another doctor’s appointment.”

“We’ll see about that. Okay, moving on.” He said, slipping seamlessly back into his gruff doctor routine. He grabbed a small rubber hammer from off the counter top.

“Are you going to hit me in the head with that so you can see if my brain works as well as my heart under stress?” I asked.

“Tempting, but no. I’m going to check your reflexes with it.” He said.

“Oh, I don’t think those things work on me. When I had my last physical before college, the doctor that examined me joked that I must be dead because he couldn’t get my leg to jerk out when he hit my knee with the hammer.”

“Well, let’s find out. I need you to sit up for this one, so I’ll let you out of the restraints if you promise not to runaway or seek some sort of physical retribution for what I just put you through.” He said.

“Even though you probably deserve retribution, I promise to restrain myself.” I said.

He untied my hands first. It felt good to change position and stretch out the fatigued muscles in my arms. Then he freed my feet, and helped me up to a seated position at the end of the table so I was sitting like I was in a backless chair. I stretched all my limbs out like a cat after a prolonged afternoon nap.

He pulled up a stool and seated himself to the side of my legs, purposefully avoiding being within kicking range. “More than likely, the last doctor that examined you failed to get you relaxed enough to respond to the reflex hammer. If you were crying and hyperventilating, your body wasn’t receptive to anything but your own fear. But this time is going to be different.” He said and tickle squeezed the spot just above my kneecap.

My leg shot up reflexively, and I let out a surprised laugh. “Hey! You didn’t use the hammer!”

“It was just a method of distraction.” He said.

“Distraction from what?” I asked.

“This.” He said and tapped just below my knee with the reflex hammer. My leg shot out again, although not quite as dramatically as it had when he tickled me.

“That was so cool!” I said and marveled at my own response.

“I can say with pretty good authority that you are, in fact, still alive.” He said and tapped the other knee.

The other leg shot out similarly to the first. “Amazing. I really thought I was defective or something.”

“Not defective, just difficult.” He said and took hold of my left foot.

My immediate reaction was to try and pull it out of his hand, fearing another lengthy tickle. But his grasp held firm, and he looked up at me with a smug expression as if to say ‘saw that one coming’. “I’m not going to tickle you…. Well, not on purpose, anyway.”

“That’s what you said when you examined my lymph nodes!” I said accusingly.

“Well, it was the truth, I didn’t mean to tickle you. It was an unfortunate side effect - couldn’t be helped. And neither can this.” He said and took out a set of keys from his pocket and dragged one of the keys up the length of my foot. I yelped and my foot curled up like a hedgehog trying to protect itself.

“What the heck is that supposed to show?” I said with a giggle.

“That there is nothing neurologically wrong with you. If your toes were to go up instead of down, we’d have a problem.” He said and let go of my foot. He tried to grab my other foot, but I moved it out of reach. He gave me a bemused expression, and made the ‘come here’ signal with his index finger. “I don’t have to restrain you again, do I?” He joked.

I laughed, “No!” I said and surrendered other foot for his examination.

This time he ran the key up and down my foot a couple of times, making me laugh and jump. “Hey! You were only supposed to do that once!” I said.

“Just being thorough.” He said and released my foot.

“Yeah, I bet.” I said and glared playfully at him.

Suddenly he got the same expression on his face that he had when he was pondering how to examine my lymph nodes without getting clobbered. It brought a serious tone to our recent playful exchange that made me nervous. “Emma, there’s still one more thing we have to do before I can finally get rid of you.”

Up until this point, I wasn’t even sure that he knew my first name. And listening to him use it for the first time probably should have set me at ease, but instead, it brought a sense of gravity to the situation that made all the old feelings of fear and nervousness wash over me like a tidal-wave. I watched as his gaze fell on the blood sample supplies on the counter top.

I could feel a lump form in my throat, and the threat of tears behind my eyes. My body, that was overheated only moments before, was now ice cold. There was only one thing I wanted to do – RUN! I wanted to get as far away from this room, this building, as I could, but fear froze me in place. All I could do was shake my head back and fourth – the universal sign for ‘no fucking way’.

“If you’ve learned anything about yourself in the last hour, other than your ability to withstand an enormous amount of torture without having a heart attack, it should be that fear is only fear when you let it be. Before today, you would have opted to skydive without a parachute rather than go to the doctor. But despite that fear, you were able to stand up to me when I pissed you off with my sarcastic comments – not that it stopped me from dishing out more…. But then again, not much would. The point is, people don’t stand up to someone they’re afraid of, they cower in the corner like a puppy who’s been beat by it’s master. And take it from someone who’s usually the one holding the rolled up newspaper, you were no puppy today.”

“Dr. House, I can’t. I’m sorry. I just can’t!” I said and continued to shake my head.

“Then all of this was basically for nothing because without your blood work results, I can’t tell what’s really going on inside you. Sure, I know your heart sounds okay, that you don’t have any palpable growths, and that your reflexes are fine, but the important stuff – cholesterol, blood sugar, thyroid function, and about a dozen other things – can only be checked out by taking a blood sample. Do you want to end up on an operating room table with your chest cracked open for a triple bypass in twenty years, like your father?”

His mention of my Dad’s heart surgery made my eyes well up with tears, and overflow. “Please, don’t ask me to do this. I’ll do anything else… anything!” I begged like a five year old.

“Okay, then let me restrain you to the table again and…. “ He began but I interrupted.

“NO! You’ll just stick me with the needle once you’ve got me tied down. NO WAY!” I said, so frantic by this point that all I wanted to do was leave.

Dr. House took me by the shoulders. “Okay, I get it - you have a fear of needles. And phobias, by their very nature, are irrational things. So, I’m going to save us both a hell of a lot of time and bypass trying to explain why your fear is ridiculous. Instead, I’m going to appeal to something equally as reactive – your fetish.” He said with a quick tickle to my ribs.

Too mortified to laugh (or speak), I just jumped away from his fingers. My face blushed red hot, and a new explosion of butterflies went off in my stomach. Did he just use the word fetish?! I had spent my entire adult life burying my tickling fetish underneath lies, avoidance, and manipulation. And inside an hour, Dr. House somehow managed to unearth that secret and shine a big, fat, spotlight on it. I couldn’t have felt any more exposed if he had me sitting there naked on the examination table.

“There goes that lovely shade of red you always seem to be turning around me.” He said.

“What makes you think….” I stuttered, but he interrupted me.

“Can we skip the games? Denial is not only pointless, it’s also time consuming.
Instead of being embarrassed, you should be thanking me for throwing open the closet doors because now this blood test will be a walk in the park.” He said confidently.

“You think my fear of needles is just going to disappear?” I asked, but couldn’t make eye contact with him.

“Not disappear, just get temporarily suspended. Hear me out for a minute.” He said and held up his hand to silence me. “I get you secured to the table, then I call in my nurse – who by the way, is the BEST phlebotomist in the biz… not that I would tell her that – and while she is doing her thing, I am going to be making sure that you stay relaxed. One little pinch from her, and other than that, you won’t even know she’s in the room.”

I dried the tears from my face with the back of my hand, and tried to calm myself down. My nerves still had control over my stomach and brain, but had loosened its grip on my lungs enough to where I could take a semi-normal breath. I wanted to trust Dr. House, but every bit of experience I had had with people in the medical field told me not to.

He must have sensed the debate I was waging in my head because the evidence was obviously displayed across my face, and behind my eyes. “You were right about my bedside manner, Emma. I won’t deny it - it sucks. It wasn’t something I ever put much stock in because I’m not here to make friends or make my patients feel warm and fuzzy. I’m here to save lives, period. So I may not ask you about your sister’s new baby, or whether or not you’ve seen the new Kevin Spacey movie in the theaters, but I know how to treat patients…. Well, at least medically.”

He paused, our eyes met, and he gave me a genuine smile – no teeth visible, but it lit up his eyes. “C’mon! That was the mother of all pep talks. You should be ready to walk on a bed of nails for me after that speech!” He joked and tickled behind both my knees, knowing that it was a particularly sensitive spot.

A smile crept across my face, and before I knew it, he had gotten me to laugh – which under the circumstances was a miracle. “Say yes!” He urged and continued to tickle my knees.

The intensity of my laughter increased the longer the tickling continued until finally I couldn’t take it anymore. “Okay!” I said loudly and tried to push his hands away.

“Good choice. Although, I don’t think you actually had much of one – I was prepared to tickle you for as long as it took until you said yes.” He said and walked over to the door. He opened it, stuck his head out, and said, “Hey Lauren? Need your help in here for a sec.”

I felt on edge, the way I do when watching a horror movie and the background music takes on a dark, eerie quality. I knew something scary was about to happen, but I just couldn’t look away. Lauren walked in, and flashed us both a warm smile.

“What’s up?” She asked.

“I need you to show Emma that a needle is only something to fear when left in the hands of an idiot.” He said to Lauren.

Lauren looked over at me. “Aw honey, there’s nothing to be afraid of! I’ve been doing this for over twenty-five years. Piece of cake.” She said and gave me a reassuring wink.

“Normally, I’m the only one around here with a big ego, but I allow it in Lauren’s case because most of the time, it’s deserved.” He said.

“Wow, was that a compliment Dr. House? He’s getting soft in his old age.” She said to me and chuckled.

“You wish.” He shot back at her. “Okay Emma, lie back.” He said and helped guide me back down until I was lying on the table again.

My stomach started to churn, and I could feel the tears in my eyes threatening another downpour. Dr. House worked quickly to secure my limbs to the table, probably to avoid giving me the chance to renege on our deal. He had gotten three of them tied down when he said, “I’m going to leave that arm free so that Lauren can do her job. But for the next few minutes, as far as you’re concerned, that arm doesn’t even exist. You just focus on me.”

I nervously nodded my head at him, and could feel a couple tears escape one of my eyes, and pool in my ear. My hands were clenched so tightly that my fingernails were making crescent moon impressions in the palms of my hand. I could hear Lauren setting up her supplies on my left side, but I didn’t chance a glance over in her direction because I knew if I saw the needle, there would be no coaxing me out of my panic attack. As it was, I had no idea how Dr. House was going to manage to evoke a ticklish response out of me while I was being stuck with a needle, but it was my prayer that he would find a way.

“Hey, Lauren. You have any of those hand grips? Nervous Nellie over here is about to impale herself with her own fingernails.” He said and lightly tickled up and down my forearm to make me unclench my fists.

It succeeded in making me loosen my grip, and also at making me squirm. But at this point, I was still too terrified to laugh.

Lauren giggled. “Sure. But that little trick of yours seemed to work pretty well too.” She said and handed him a couple small rubber balls for me to hold onto.

He placed one ball in each of my hands. “Oh, if you think that worked well, you should see her reaction when I tickle her hips.” He said and wiggled his fingers at me.

I glared at him, but couldn’t help the smile that began to spread across my lips. “Don’t.” I said curtly, feigning annoyance.

Lauren wrapped a rubber band around my bicep, and started to feel around the crook of my arm for the vein she wanted to use. My stomach jumped nervously, and the smile that had been on my lips a second ago, was gone. I was gripping the rubber balls so tightly, that I was sure they would give under the pressure and pop like helium balloons.

“Well, I’m afraid you’re not really in the position to bark orders at anyone. Besides, I wasn’t really going to go there. Not because you don’t want me to, but because it would make you thrash around too hard. Nope, what we need is a spot that is ticklish, but not too ticklish.” He said and eyed me up and down. “Ah, this spot should work nicely for starters.” He said and started to gently scribble all his fingers on the soft flesh on the underside of my bicep.

My arm immediately tried to come down protectively, but the restraints held it in place. The ticklish sensation was fairly intense, and I could feel the laughter trying to fight it’s way out from behind the lump in my throat. My eyes shut tightly and I held my breath.

“You should know better than that by now.” He said and tickled the soft spot on my waist to force me to breath. The first blast of laughter escaped along with my first deep breath. “That’s more like it.” He said and kept tickling that spot along with the tender spot on my bicep.

I vaguely felt something cold on the arm Lauren was working with, but the ticklish sensations Dr. House was creating fought for my full attention like a bratty Hollywood starlet that doesn’t like to share the spotlight. It was difficult not to fight hard against the restraints, but the fear of forcing Lauren to miss the vein because I was thrashing around too much helped hold me in place.

“Want to see Emma’s impression of a scared turtle?” He asked to Lauren.

Lauren chuckled, “Haven’t you put this poor girl through enough?”

“Don’t worry… she secretly loves it. Watch.” He said and used the hand that was tickling my bicep to tickle my collarbone.

Once he mentioned a turtle, I knew where he was headed, but I didn’t scrunch up my shoulders fast enough and he managed to sneak a hand in the spot where my neck and shoulder meet. My head and shoulder trapped his hand in place, where it continued to tickle mercilessly. His fingers played on the nerves in that spot, and it set off a chain reaction of goosebumps that covered the entire length of that side of my body. That, coupled with his other hand that continued to play my ribcage like a grand piano, and I was on sensory overload. My laughter was at a fever pitch, and I was fighting for air. I could feel my fear losing its grip like a rock climber on a slippery slope as the ticklish sensations continued to bombard my system.

“Fuck!!” I yelled through the hysterics.

“Yeah, I forgot to mention that she curses like a truck driver on his sixth beer when she gets tickled.” He said to Lauren.

“You’d better believe you’d be hearing a few choice four-letter words coming out of my mouth too if you tried something like this on me.” Lauren said with a laugh.

“Ooo…. I had no idea you were ticklish. Hey Emma, what do you say we strap Lauren down after you’re done?” He joked.

“Not a chance.” Lauren said in mock seriousness. “Besides, after what you put Emma through today, she’d be more likely to help me strap you down.”

“Wouldn’t do much good – not ticklish. Goes along with the whole heart of stone thing.” He said and changed ticklish spots on me, now going after my underarm with one hand and the entire length of that arm with the other. Although I didn’t think it was possible, my laughter renewed its intensity. “Gotta love those lymph nodes.” He said as he scribbled his five fingertips in my underarm.

“No!” I yelled, but couldn’t manage any more words. My laughter fell silent. Then I felt Lauren take the rubber band off my bicep, and apply pressure to the crook of my arm. At the same time, Dr. House stopped tickling me. I went from sensory overload to sensory deprivation in a split second. The room seemed very still and quiet – the only sound was my own heavy breathing. I looked up at them and saw them both smiling down at me, although Lauren’s was warm and Dr. House’s was smug. “But….”

“ All done. Which sadly means that I can’t justify torturing you like this anymore.” He said and briefly tickled my hip.

I yelped, and giggled. I looked over at the arm Lauren had taken the blood from and saw that she had already affixed the band-aid in place, and was busy gathering several vials full of my blood. “Wait a minute… it’s over? How is that possible?” I asked, truly amazed because I hadn’t even felt her stick me.

“Ah, the power of distraction. Once I got you laughing hard enough, I signaled Lauren to put the needle in. You were too busy writhing in ticklish agony to notice.” He said, and started to untie my restraints.

“Unorthodox, but effect. I have to give you that much.” Lauren said to Dr. House.
“Take care, sweetie.” She said to me and gave my shoulder a gentle pat.

As Lauren exited the room, Dr. House finished untying my restraints and helped me to a seated position. I felt physically and emotionally drained. “Thanks…. For everything.” I said with a grateful smile.

“Don’t go getting all hallmark channel on me. I was just doing my job.” He said and finished filling in my chart and putting all my paperwork back in my file. “So, same time next year?” He asked, with the hint of a devilish smile on his face.

I laughed, “It might take that long for me to recover.”

“Oh, don’t go pretending that you didn’t love it.” He said and stared at me.

I blushed, which was undoubtedly his intention behind the long look. “Can I ask you something?” I asked and began to fidget with my hands.

“Uh-oh, blushing and fidgeting – this should be a good one.” He said in his usual deadpan delivery.

“Um… how did you know?” I asked, and felt my face grow warmer.

“Well, the perpetual blushing and fidgeting at the mere mention of tickling was kind of a dead give away.” He said and stood up to leave. Then as he approached the door and opened it, he turned back to me and added, “Oh, and your best friend, Grace, also tipped me off.” He said and winked at me before exiting the room.

My stunned expression quickly gave way to a smile. Looks like I had found myself a new doctor….


THE END
 
wow... so hot.. where is this doctor at.. I need a physical.
 
I'm not a doctor, but I will play one on TV.



Fantastic story, even for someone who doesn't follow the show.

Thanks for posting!
 
Nicely done!!!!!!

You captured House's personality perfectly. The dialogue you wrote for him was "spot on".

Thank you for posting this, Maggie. :)
 
I love House and I love this story. I could just hear him saying some of those things, lol, and see the expression on his face.

GREAT job. =)
 
Dimple toes - I'm sure there are several "doctors" in the TMF house that would love to accommodate you... but you might want to check their credentials first ;). Thanks so much for posting!! :) And since you were the FIRST one to do so, you also get a :twohugs: too.


C.K. - I'm glad you liked the story, despite not being a big "House" watcher. I've never written a story based on a TV character before, and I knew that I would be catering to a small audience when I wrote it. In fact, that was one of my main concerns when writing it - would only "House" fans like it or get anything out of it? Glad to find out (at least in your case) I didn't have anything to worry about :xpulcy:


impaler - Thanks for posting some feedback, pal o' mine! :Kiss2: Glad you liked it and thought that I stayed true to House's character. Wasn't easy slipping into the shoes of such an ornery bastard.... made a damn good 'ler though. Give you any ideas? :D


Samantha - Again, nice to know that I did House justice. Also glad to know that it played out on "paper" as vividly as it played out in my head. As I was writing it, I saw it acted out in my head as if I was watching the show, so describing his facial expressions, mannerisms, and attitude was all part of it.


You guys made my day, so thanks again!! :smilelove What about the rest of you? Both positive and negative comments are welcome, but only positive ones get a :twohugs: and :Kiss2:. Juuuuuust kiddin'... sort of. ;)
 
impaler - Thanks for posting some feedback, pal o' mine! :Kiss2: Glad you liked it and thought that I stayed true to House's character. Wasn't easy slipping into the shoes of such an ornery bastard.... made a damn good 'ler though. Give you any ideas? :D

So....you're saying that you're NOT ornery? Are ya' sure about that? :p

:roflmao:
 
Great story! You REALLY captured the style in which Hugh Laurie delivers his lines...I'm quite impressed.

Good plot as well, seemed very believeable.

MrPersistancy
 
I love this story Its amazing, well detailed, funny Creative and sexy :).

Thank you thank you For such a Brilliant Story?


Ego fed :p? hehe you rock
 
Mr. Persistancy - First of all... love the handle ;) Glad you enjoyed the story. The dialog was a real challenge for me. I'm naturally sarcastic by nature, but not in the gruff way that House is, so it was just a matter of coupling the two styles and hoping that there was enough of an abrasive quality to the dialog to make it believable. It's a relief to hear that it came across as genuine. :xpulcy:


Mike - Thanks for the "ego feed"... you're lucky I knew you were joking about that sarcastic little (house-like) comment, otherwise there'd be hell to pay. :3poke: I'll let it slide though because you gave such an obviously heartfelt and glowing review of the story. ;)

Tiny Tickler - Glad to meet another diehard House fan. I have just recently gotten into the show and am KICKING myself in the ass because I didn't find out how cool this show was sooner! But on the flip side, now I can buy the box sets and have House marathons (I just purchased Season One yesterday). Can you say obsessed? :D


As a sidenote, I was watching an episode (on TV not DVD) the other day that had a girl who was going in for an MRI. And House was restraining her to the table. And for a SPLIT second, it was like watching my story play out in front of me... unfortunately, there was no tickling. In fact, he wound up stabbing her with a needle and couple of times and then breaking (or nearly breaking) her finger to set off some kind of pain-triggered hallucination. Like a said, it was a split second - just enough to cause a quick rush of butterflies watching him standing over her and saying "this isn't going to hurt a bit". What a LIAR! :jester:


A BIG BIG BIG thanks to all you who are taking the time to post feedback to my story. It makes writing it really rewarding when I see that people are enjoying it. I know it's much easier to read a story, then afterwards just click on the next one without taking a few seconds out to let the author know what you thought of it. But the feedback is what keeps the writers going. So thanks! :twohugs:
 
Dear Maggie,

Excellent story. Very, very well written. Smart, fun, with a great ear for detail and the characters' speech (both inner and outer). I have written several TV-based stories and I think it's a terrific, but challenging genre--one whose high standards you definitely fulfilled!

I'm going to search for other stories you've written. Oh--do you take requests??

Congratulations,

dig dug dog
 
Maggie,

Opening your tale with the fantasy based on the series made me wonder what I was in store for. Although a male, I am equally smitten with not only the character of House, but Laurie's adaptation of it so perfectly that the character and he (being, in my mind, his likeness) are so intertwined that I can't visualize one without the other.

The story you told was a brilliant weave of fantasy into another fantasy, so much so that I felt I was watching, rather than reading, your thoughts. Your dialogue was as rich and cocky as an entire staff of professionals create for each episode, this after many readings, rewrites, editings and improvisations from the actors themselves.

You need to keep one thing in mind so that you never look back on this piece of fiction you've created and think, "Well, I did a really good job but I wish I'd created the characters myself." I think you'll know what I mean, if not now then someday. You sometimes find your writing is so much more brilliant and noteworthy when you're taking on the persona of a character that's already been mapped out for you through another media, so you don't feel ownership of the idea, just the spoils. Let me set you straight. There is not one single character on that show that has not, in the history of the written word, been stolen from the imaginative brainchild of someone else before them. "House," to us, is such a striking and engaging character not because he's unlike anyone we've ever known or heard about, but because he's a compilation of moments in our humanity where we were faced with a situation and our dark half spoke so clearly to us that we almost made the social blunder of letting out the proverbial "fart" in the middle of the wedding vows. He is what we hold back from breaking the rules of moral conduct that we're all forced to obey, typically by some unspoken phantom voice that calls "What would your mother think???!!!"

Bravo, and take a bow. Your writing is superb, your fantasy is now revealed and you should go find a quiet place to rest your head, break into that dreamy smile, and wait for those peircing blue eyes to find yours.
 
I'm a little late, but terrific story nonetheless. Emma's inner dialog was incredible.
The back story was totally believable; furthermore, as previously mentioned by others, your depiction of House was fantastic and dead on, especially with you mentioning that he would always go back to his "business as usual" face. It's flattery in its purest form. I wouldn't be surprised if something like that came on tv one day.

I loved your use of the repetition combined with all the metaphors and smilies of your anxiousness. Your hook and impact statement we spectacular as well.

I must reiterate, job well done. You have tremendous talent, thanks for sharing it with all of us.
 
Do U know what U should do. U should have a story where House is tickled. Even though he said he is not ticklish in this story. It's not like he hasn't lied before;)
 
This story was pretty good. I only watched House once or twice, but you seemed to keep House in character. I'll go back & reread the other story to draw comparisons.
 
reading this story again makes me think, and i have one suggestion the story was good but very very long great detail and well thought out story line but i think that there are some parts that could be taken out that just fills up space
 
DDD - I think you're right, TV based stories are a difficult genre. It's like acting out a part in a play or movie - you've got to stay in character even though the character might be worlds away from who you are as a person. House's sarcasm came easy to me, but his "mean" streak didn't. Like House once said about the character "Cameron" on the show - I'm like a stuffed animal that Grandma made :cat: But I'm glad the story (and the House character) came across well anyway. Thanks for posting such complimentary feedback, and for saving my story from dying a slow death on the page two threads :D

Piper - Wow, there's so much of your feedback to comment on, I don't know where to start. First, let me say a BIG thanks for not only taking the time to comment, but for putting so much thought into it as well. I'm glad that you "saw" the story as clearly as I did when I wrote it. High praise indeed.

I understand you're point about not taking full ownership of the story because I didn't create the House character myself. There is a certain level of pride and ownership when a story comes completely from within. But I don't think I'll dwell too much on this point when it comes to the tickling fiction I write because I create them for only one reason - pure fun! Also because if I didn't write them, they would keep me up at night and torture me relentlessly until I got them down on "paper". :jester: Once they're "out there" I can sit back, relax, and maybe think about something else for a change... I dunno... like eating or sleeping again. :D Since I'm not looking to get them published, there is a sense of levity and playfulness about this writing process that doesn't allow me to take them too seriously or over analyze them. Does that make sense?

Oh, and your closing comment - "... your fantasy is now revealed and you should go find a quiet place to rest your head, break into that dreamy smile, and wait for those peircing blue eyes to find yours" pretty much summed up the week following the completion of the story!! Talk about well written!! :blush:

Hyped - Many, many thanks for responding to my plea for you to read this story. :twohugs: I'm SO glad you liked it. Your comments were very sweet and thoughtful. I think it may take me a week to get my ego back down to its normal size. ;)

I'm probably about to illustrate my vast ignorance by asking my next question, but I'm going to go ahead anyway because my curiosity is currently taking precedence over my pride. While I MAY be able to spin a good tale, my grip on anything taught during English class (both in HS and college) has long since been lost in the dark recesses of my mind. Can you give examples of what you mean by "my use of repetition" and my "hook and impact statement"? I got the metaphor and simile part.... at least I paid attention a LITTLE bit in English class... but not much.

So, Prof. Hype, if you'll hop up to the chalkboard and teach me a thing or two, I promise to pay attention and take notes this time around ;)
 
Thunder - It crossed my mind to write a sequel to this story, and have Emma exact some tickling revenge on Dr. House. However, I feared that like most sequels, it would crash and burn. Also, I'm (mostly) 'lee by nature, so writing a purely F/M story wouldn't come all that easily for me. That's not to say that I wouldn't love to READ a story about Dr. House being tickled until he spouted warm and fuzzy phrases, just that I would have a hard time writing it. ;)


lovethemaster - Glad you liked the story. Thanks for taking the time to read it. :twohugs: You don't have to reread my "Flight into Fantasy" story again if you don't want to. I know the length of that story was a bit daunting... okay, it was down right LOOOOONG. But of course, if you WANTED to read it again, who am I to stand in your way. :jester: Would be interesting to see how the two compared.

tiny - Thanks for the constructive criticism. I enjoy to hear that as much as the compliments - truly, I mean that. There is no better way to learn and improve one's writing skills. I hope all who are reading this take note, and feel free to follow your lead.

I know I've got a bit of a "length" issue with my stories. Try as I might, short and sweet just doesn't come naturally to me. Never has. The last story I wrote (Flight into Fantasy) was at least TWICE the length of this House story. Honestly, I was amazed that anyone read it from beginning to end (and that it was so well received)! My writing style is for those who are more likely to read a novel than a magazine article. I know that there are some on the TMF boards that only want the tickling scenes and could scrap the rest. I don't blame you a bit - after all, you probably didn't log on to sit down with a tale of epic proportions! But I just can't bring myself to cut out all the lead up and back story.

Out of curiosity, what would you have nixed?
 
This is so hot Daisy.
Honestly House is such a hottie and you've really caputered him in a way we all want to.
Well done!
You should be very proud!

Much Love :smilelove
 
Maggie, this is a fantastic story! This show is one of my guilty pleasures, the things he says and does, so wrong :sowrong: yet it keeps me coming back episode after episode.
You truly captured his essence, dialogue and mannerisms in this story. The tickling was perfect and worked beautifully into the storyline, you made it so plausible. I don’t think I’ll be able to watch another episode without thinking about the fun to be had if House is the MD that walks through the exam room door at my next physical. Thanks for such a terrific and enjoyable read.

Regards
Nicole <<<<----
 
Elphaba - Hugh Laurie IS a hottie, isn't he? I've never been one who's attracted to the "typical" hotties of hollywood - the Brad Pitts or Matthew McConaugheys of the industry. A guy's personality (or the character he's portraying) plays as much of a role in his attractiveness as his gorgeous eyes or well-built physique. And while Hugh Laurie is an attractive guy, he is MUCH more so in his "House" role than the role of Mr. Little in the Stuart Little movies (the one with Geena Davis).

In trying to figure out why "House" has such a hold on me, I managed to nail it down to two reasons: He is UNBELIEVABLY perceptive. He can pick up on the slightest change in a person's behavior or mannerisms to know what they are thinking or feeling. And for me, that is a key quality to have in a 'ler. A perceptive 'ler knows when you're lying about a ticklish spot or when you're trying to keep some piece of information from them, and he knows exactly how his touch is effecting you. And secondly, he is a perfect balance of sadistic and sweet. Granted, sadistic is more dominant, but the sweetness does get a chance to peek through every now and then. And when it does, it's almost in spite of himself, like he can't help it. That gives him heart... even though he's an ornery bastard most of the time. ;)

Anyway, sorry for rambling. Glad you liked the story!! :D


Nicole - I'm so glad you enjoyed reading the story. I do feel kind of guilty laughing at some of the mean things he says, but I just can't help myself. His sarcasm and line delivery is too good not to giggle... at least a little. And like you, this story is in the back of my brain now when I watch House episodes and I keep praying for him to tickle somebody! Who knows what season five will bring....


Maggie
 


Brilliant. Just brilliant. I loved this. It was perfect IMO.

As for notes on "use of repetition" and "hook" - though kudos goes for noticing and pointing them out - if it were up to me at all, I'd have you not take notes (same goes for the concern of the length of your story - I must respectivally disagree here as well) because it just makes your natural talent for writing a good story (tickling or otherwise), that much more of a raw, fun gift. Explaining it, I feel, would take away from it and it would suck if you were to start "thinking" about it all rather than just letting it all out.
 
I adore your writing style! I have read all of your stories (true or fiction) and I just love them. Please write more!!!!!! I particularly like this one because I have a huge crush on Dr. House haha. I wish that my physicals were like that, especially with him! Keep it up!

Kat
 
Last edited:
What's New

3/28/2024
Stop by the TMF Welcome Forum and take a second to say hello!
Tickle Experiment
Door 44
NEST 2024
Register here
The world's largest online clip store
Live Camgirls!
Live Camgirls
Streaming Videos
Pic of the Week
Pic of the Week
Congratulations to
*** brad1701 ***
The winner of our weekly Trivia, held every Sunday night at 11PM EST in our Chat Room
Back
Top