Found old story...Tickling Professor m/f f/f mfff/f Adult pt1

A old story that predates TMF... heck it even mentions a.s.f.t.

old school baby!

I think it is by Jonothan Darksong but have not been able to reach him.


So I thought there would be some people who might remember this.

Had to break it into two parts!

*****Tickling Professor*****
by Tklophile
For those 18 yrs or older ONLY! Story contains
sex, graphic situations, profane language, and all that
other stuff the premium channels on TV advertise. LOL
be forwarned...
(Note: this story is a paralell to The Laughing Professor, a
story created by someone known only as Ticklenet, whom no one
has seen or heard of in a while. I have inquired but have
not found him/her, so this is my attempt to honor him/her
with a little story based on his/her original. Enjoy!

Jonothan Smythe sighed deeply and tried to keep his mind focused on
the experiment he was trying to perform for his students. It was a
simple two part binary experiment to show what happened when certain
substances are mixed. The two compounds used by themselves would have
little effect omn the solvent, but together they produced, in the small
quantities he used, a loud but small harmless explosion. It was kind of
a midterm tradition with him the past three years of teaching advanced
chemistry, a little excitement before the break to give the kids a little
something scholastic to think of in their free time. A simple experiment,
he had performed it perhaps a hundred times, but with science, one needs to
focus and concentrate always, lest a small harmless explosion could become
a huge disaster.
Christy Swanson smacked and popped her gum, idly chatting with her fellow
classmates about this and that, giggling softly. Jonothan turned to glare
at her. "Ms. Swanson," he began in a tone that spouted weariness, "if you
aren't interested in the experiment going on, you can at least be quiet and
attentive and PRETEND to be interested so your fellow students can observe."
She looked at him with a little smile, while her eyes showed her true
feelings---I HATE YOU, they said. "In a little while you will be on Spring
Break and you can talk and giggle and gossip with your friends all you want
then."
Face slightly reddened, Christy rolled her eyes and said in a sugar sweet
voice, "Whatever you say, Mr. Smythe." As soon as her teacher turned back to
the experiment at hand, ignoring the dagger like stares she was giving him,
she turned to her best friend Jessie and giggled softly. Jonothan sighed.
He just couldnt understand her, couldnt understand women as a whole for that
matter. Christy was a lazy, bitter, smart-mouthed girl that loved to "test
the waters" of authority. She never did homework, always cut up in class.
But on the tests, she rarely made less than a perfect scrore. She had the
smarts and intuitiveness to be a great scientist, but she lacked drive and
desire...discipline.
Coincidently, as he was pondering her, the young Ms. Swanson was likewise
thinking of him. She LOATHED the smart, handsome, confident black professor
because he exhibited an air of what she felt was SUPERIORITY about him, a
real know-it-all attitude about everything. Although he WAS very intelligent
and knowledgable in most subjects, she felt that she was just as smart as he
was, in Chemistry, at least. How dare he treat her like a mere lackey? He
always picked on her in class, made her tell answers in class--never mind
that she always knew them---and seemed to single her out whenever something
happened. Well, she thought with a smile, someting IS about to happen, and
with the expert tampering that she and her friend Jessie had done to the
experiment the night before, it would definitely be a memorable experience.
Best of all, even if he somehow suspected her of the deed, there was no
evidence to prove it, and she had an airtight alibi, thanks to Jessie.
Christy shot her friend a wink, and she responded with one herself.
"Now class," Jonothan continued, "the stage, as it were, is set. I've
shown you what happens when these two compounds are mixed into the solvent
seperately, nothing but a light fizzle." He smiled grandly. If nothing else
in his life was enjoyable, teaching chemistry was. He really knew how to put
on a show, and except for kids like Chrisy, nearly all responded with a kind
of yearning to know more and learn more about science. He picked up the test
tube he thought was filled with his pre-made solution and poured it slowly
into the solvent. "But, mixed together, the mixture become highly unstable,
reactive, and very volatile...in fact, in just a few second, i think the
results of this little demonstration should be explos---"
A loud forced chamber explosion cut him off in midsentence and pushed him
back painfully against the brick wall, sending him to his knees. At the same
time, his class screamed and shrieked, diving for cover, and shouts and
surprised swearing rang throughout the entire science building. Dazed, Jon
weakly climbed to his feet and looked at his students huddled on the floor,
some underneath desks, then turned back to gaze confused at the sight of
his failed experiment. The strong specially designed beaker had shattered
into several hundred razor sharp fragments of siliconed death. Luckily he
had had the good foresight to use a heavy plastic shieldgard, just in case
the worst happened...which apparently it had.
"Children?" he asked in a hoarse, scratchy voice, "are you all alright?
Is anyone hurt?" Timidly, one by one, they all raised up, looking at him
with fearful eyes. "I...i...i dont know what to say. I have no idea what
just happened. It should have been a small harmless little 'pop' of an
explosion...I'm sorry kids."
"SMMMMYYYTHHHEE!!!" a loud deep femine voice sounded from the center of a
small crowd of onlookers outside the doorway. Jonothan cringed visibly as the
lovely sight of his boss the Dean of Natural Sciences strode red faced into
the room. He hastily smoothed his rumpled appearance and started to stutter
an explanation, but she cut him off with a raised hand and a sharp glare.
"Save it!! I dont want to hear it...just get your ass into my office. NOW!!"
She turned and looked tenderly at the shocked class, and smiled fawninly. "I
am sorry about what just happened kids, i know you are all a little shaken
up over it, but believe me--" she turned to stare at Jonothan, casting a
furious glance at him "--it will NOT happen again, i can promise you THAT!"
Without a further word, she strode purposely down the hall into her office.
Sighing, head bowed, Jonothan walked slowly out of the classroom down the
hallway to the office of his boss.
As he reached the door, he heard the sound of laughing, at his back. He
turned to see Christy Swanson and Jessie winking at each other as they
pointed at him and laughed, loud and heavy, their sweet voices sounding like
tinkling crystals. Jonothan turned sullenly back to the door and entered,
as the rest of the onlookers joined in, and he slammed the door loudly, as
if to shut out the bitter laughter he heard still echoing in the back of his
mind.

******chapter 2*******

"Just what the hell did you think you were doing in there, Smythe?" Dean
Elizabeth Andrews shouted, pacing back and forth in front of him aimlessly.
"I was in a meeting with a very important member of a big research facility
up in Dallas, one willing to give millions of dollars of funds and equipment
to the Science department. I had just finished the deal when your little
fiasco rocked my office, sending my books and importnant files to the floor,
and making my important contact dive to the floor, thinking he was having a
flashback from Viet Nam!!!" She stopped pacing and sat on the end of her
desk, her legs kicking nervously back and forth. Jonothan couldnt help but
notice her long beautifully shaped legs. Ms. Andrews was a tall, curvacious
shapely woman that had just turned forty, but even at eight years his senior,
he found her extremely attractive. Her body and face was flawlessly perfect,
down to the finely pedicured feet, which he had gazed upon from time to time
being in her office. She had caught him staring pointedly at her feet once,
and he hastily mumbled something about looking for a pencil he had dropped.
She has glared at him but let the subject drop; however, since that incident
she had consistantly viewed him as an obvious nut, and went out of her way
to humiliate him for the slightest little offences. Now, he thought sadly,
she has something to really chew me out about.
"Well?" Dean Andrews face rushed into his. Jonothan gulped. He had been so
busy in his quiet musings he hadnt really paid any attention to what she had
been saying...she had obviously asked him a question and wanted an answer.
All he could do is sit and hope she would repeat it. "WELL? ANSWER ME! WHAT
THE HELL DID YOU DO IN THERE??"
"Well...Dean Andrews...you see..." he sputterd aimlessly. "You know that
usually i put on a little dramatic demonstration for the classes right before
midterm break, yanno, to give them something a little exciting to think about
over the holiday, a little explosion--not the BIG ONE that happened today--
just a small harmlessone and i stayed up all night and went over my notes
as usual and i prepared the experiment beforehand as always and set it all
up, and...and...and i honestly dont know what went WRONG!!"
Dean Andrews scowled slightly at him, crossing her arms. Unable to meet
eyes, he lowered his gaze to the ground, taking in the sight of her feet
once more. In her anger, she was dangling her left burgandy heel from the
very tips of her toes, and the sheer sandlewood stockings she wore
illuminated her pale soft flesh. Jonothan felt himself start to sweat. "The
the...the only thing i can come up with is sabotage..." he finished, voice
nearly cracking.
"Sabotage?" she said incrediously. "By whom, do you suppose? The lab cant
be accessed by anyone without a key card, and only you, your student lab
assistant, and the people on my staff have cards. I happen to know everyone
on my staff very well, and with the sole exception of *YOU*" she spit out
contemptously "all of them have been here for ten years or more and has never
once given me a bit of trouble...where YOU have habitually caused me no end
of trouble since the very first day!" Jonothan cringed at the mention of that
day, when he had unknowingly ran into the pretty Dean, not knowing she was
his boss, smiled and said aloud to his fellow instructor, 'If the teachers
here all look like HER then i think i will like being here VERY much.' She
had overheard him and called him into her office and chewed him out for an
hour about the principles of sexual harassment, and roles of authority in
administration, with HER as the head and HIM as the second lowest rung of the
ladder.
"Sabotage indeed", she continued. "unless you are suggesting it is your
lab assistant, and in the choice of who to belive, you or her i would
readily choose her! So, that only leaves your students as the culprits. I
cant imagine any of THEM wanting to get revenge on you, as you have somehow
won them all over with your unorthodox teaching methods, and habit of never
giving a grade lower than a 'C' to anyone DESPITE my mandates. Teacher of
the year three years in a row my ass!! Do you---WHAT ARE YOU STARING AT??!!?"
Jonothan's head immediately sprang up, embarrassment written all over his
face. He has indeed been staring at her feet again and had been caught. His
mind whirled trying to come up with an excuse, ANY EXCUSE to cover his
actions, but as verbally subdued as he was, all he could do is mutter and
gape wordlessly. Confusion flashed across her face as she saw his expression,
then recognition...then an evil malicious grin stretched wide from corner to
corner. She slipped off both her high heels and wiggled her toes aimlessly
a few seconds before sliding off her desk and walking over to Mr. Smith.
"I think you were staring at my feet, Smith", she said conversationally,
as if they discussed he subject all the time. "I always knew you were a bit
'off', but i never realized what it was until now." She placed a stockined
foot right on the middle of his lap, grinding against his crotch before he
could even mutter a weak denial. His face registerd total surprise then
fear then enjoyment as she began to wiggle and flex her toes on his growing
manhood. "Yes, i thought so, you really are enjoying this arent you? Well,
I must admit it is different, but kind of stimulating to me as well." She
noticed Jonothan moving a hand towards her foot and immediately slapped it
away. "NO YOU DONT!!" she shouted angrily. "Dont you move an inch, you hear
me? In case you have forgotten about our talk about authority and your place
on the ladder, *I* am at the top, and you are just the 'footrest'." With that
she began rubbing and grinding and wiggling her foot all around and along
Jon's cock, bringing to rapidly to the edge. He started to breath heavily,
and moan slightly, raising his hips to meet each flex and rub of her foot.
She noticed his state and smiled wickedly, waiting until the very last second
and taking her foot away, leaving him hanging precariously on the edge.
"Noooo!" he mumbled weakly. "Please dont stop now...i am almost there!"
"Exactly why i stopped, you FREAK," she spat out. "You dont deserve to
get enjoyment at my hands...er feet." She walked back over to her shoes and
stepped into them. "And dont you even think about touching yourself, not if
you dont want every teacher and student on this campus to know about your
little fascination!" she threatened. Nearly on the verge of breaking, Jon
sat on his hands in frustration, letting his excitement pass and dwindle
back down. "Very good, Mr. Smith," Elizabeth purred, "at last it seems you
understand your place here. Now, as for your little fiasco, i think that I
can be forgiving, as it didnt ruin my meeting. You will only be suspended for
two weeks without pay. Starting today." She smiled as he looked at her in
anguish. She knew full well that he was in the midst of paying back student
loans from his education, and a teacher's salary, even with a Masters, was
not enough that he could afford to lose even two weeks pay...especially over
the vacation break, when everyone else would have a full two weeks paid
vacation. It was extremely cruel, she thought to herself smiling. "Now, get
out of here, Mr. Smythe, before i reconsider my generosity." She laughed
harshly as he exited in disgrace.

******chapter 3******

Leaving the Dean's office dejected and saddened, Jonothan went back to his
office to contemplate things. It wasnt bad enough that his personal life was
in the toilet these days, his problems seemed to have leaked over into his
work environment as well. Sighing, he sat down at his terminal and logged on
to the internet, set to relax until 5:00pm when his day would be over. He
went into his favorite chatroom #medieval and started chatting privately with
his closest and dearest friend Angelieque. They had shared some of their
deepest and darkest secrets and fantasies over the past several months, and
though they were strictly friends, he and she playfully flirted with each
other and hinted at the idea of him coming up to visit her sometime.

>Hey angel, how are ya, he typed.
<ANGELIQUE>DeathSinger, hi, i'm great! How are you? she replied.
>Well...I've had better days. I nearly blew up the building, and my boss
chewed me out...then she caught me looking at her feet and embarrassed and
humiliated me. *sigh* Really glad yer here, hon, i could use some cheering
up.
<ANGELIQUE> hahahahahaaaa...
> hey that's not funny. i nearly got canned today
<ANGELIQUE> he he he...sorry DeathSinger. Its just that it all sounds so
funny. You blowing up the lab, then your boss messing with you about looking
at her feet. C'mon, admit it, if that had happened to someone else other than
you, you would think it was funny to.
>not really...if you had been there, you'd know just how unfunny it was.
> but... (pause)
>...okay...i suppose it MIGHT have been a LITTLE funny if it had happened
to someone other than me. But i wouldnt have laughed. It hurts when someone
laughs at ya when you are having a bad day. it hurts bad.
<ANGELIQUE> oh...sorry DS. I couldnt help myself. friends?
> of course, silly. *hugs and kisses ya on the cheek*
Then suddenly a private message appeared on the screen from someone Jon
had hoped not to run into online: MAX_LELAND
<MAX_LELAND> hehehehe...well if it isnt foot-boy! didnt think i'd see you
online today. Whatsamatter? run out of teen age girls to tickle, you sick
perverted fucker?
Jonothan was shocked even more than usual. He and Leland had never gotten
along online since they first met, since then had become bitter enemies. But
he had never told him about his fetishes for tickling or his interest in feet
in fact no one online knew, other than those in his other frequently visited
room, #tickling, other than his close and trusted friend ANGELIQUE!!!
<MAX_LELAND> Speechless, huh? I'll take that as a yes, foot-boy! Dont
worry about it tho, I wont spread your little secret around the internet.
I wont have to---its already widely known now! HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!
>FUCK OFF LELAND!!
Jonothan clicked on a popup he had specially made just for Max, and even
though flooding was punishable by being kicked off the IRC network, he ran
his little flood protocol on MAX. He had spent one day a few months ago just
looking at how the flood protection script was written and wrote a short
program in C++ to get around it, even through the /IGNORE command. Jonothan
smiled savagely, watching the program run. Before long, Max's computer would
have locked up as his buffers were filled with pages and pages of useless
garbage. He smiled...then frowned as he turned his attentions to Angel.
> Angel...i just got a very nasty message from someone...someone who
seems to know about my fetish...
> something that outside of that private tickling channel room only YOU
know about. Is there anything you want to TELL me, "FRIEND"?
<ANGELIQUE> DS...well...I...
<ANGELIQUE> I'm sorry okay? it just slipped out ya know? I only told one
person anyway.
> But LELAND????? My worst enemy? How could you tell that piece of shit?
<ANGELIQUE> HEY!! FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE! I happen to LIKE the guy!
> :O what???? you LIKE him? since when? as far back as I knew you hated
him as much as I did. he got you K-lined off undernet a year ago.
<ANGELIQUE> yeah, well, things change. I met him in RL and we started
dating. He is a good guy and i happen to LOVE him...and if you cant deal
with that then forget you.
> I cant believe this...just like that, you toss ME to the side. You are
now close to a guy you KNOW i hate, and worse, you tell him all about the
private stuff i told you in confidence, that was only between you and me...
the secrets i *TRUSTED* you with as a FRIEND. Now he is in and I am out.
<ANGELIQUE> if you wanna look at it that way. yes.
> fine then...have a nice life.
<ANGELIQUE> we will...if you stay out of it.
> I will, belive me...but before i go, i have one little piece of advice.
<ANGELIQUE> oh? not that i need it, but what is it?
> change the name to DIABLOQUE...somehow ANGELique doesnt fit anymore.
Jonothan hastily ran his flooding program again for his ex-friend Angel
and logged off. No doubt he would be k-lined from that particular sever after
Max and Angel turned him on for flooding them. He sighed wearily. This day
just kept getting worse, and instead of relaxing him, his time on the IRC
had left him more tense than before. It seemed like everyone was out to get
him today. Sighing he picked up the phone and called his girlfriend Cyndi,
glancing at the clock: 4:17pm. SHe should be home by now, he hoped. He and
she had been having problems in their relationship for the past two weeks,
and they had fought and made up last night. Jonothan thought it would be
a nice surprise to call her up and invite her to go out to dinner uptown for
a change, take her someplace special and expensive even if he couldnt afford
it, just to show her how much she meant to her. After the phone rang for the
seventh of eigth time, he was convinced she must be busy or outside in the
yard, and was about to hang up, when it answered with a clang, as if it had
not been picked up, but knocked to the floor.
"Hello? Cyndi?" he asked tentatively. No answer. Jonothan started to hang
up the phone when he heard a female voice shouting for help---no...no, not
for help. As Jonothan listened closely, he could now make out the words in
the background, not cries for help, but cries of passion.
"...oh god oh god...uhhhhh...oh god....oh jefffff...fuck! that is sooooo
goooddddd...mmmmmm....." Jonothan's jaw dropped nearly to the floor. That
was without a doubt his girlfriend Cyndi's voice on the phone in sexual bliss
with his best friend Jeffery. He and Cyndi had never had intercourse in the
entire three months they were together, she always insisting they wait till
the time was right, until they got to know one another well, and content to
stop with heavy petting and kissing. Apparently she WASNT so content to
wait when having an affair with his best friend! Jonothan nearly dropped the
phone, his hands suddenly cold and numb, but he continued to listen as they
finished and hugged and talked after they regained the ability.
"...shit look at the time (Cyndi's voice)that bastard will be getting
home soon, Jeff sweetie. You better shower and get dressed before he gets off
work and comes over. *sigh* he's so fucking predictable, he should be coming
through the door in about 38 fucking minutes and 17 fucking seconds." She
laughed long and loud, Jeff laughing as well. "I have never known someone so
fucking anal retentive about time, have you? He has never done one single
spontaneous thing since we started going steady. If it wasnt for the money
he spends on me i swear i would have given him up long ago."
"Yep," Jeff spoke up. "That was Jonny's one good quality, he always knew
how to treat a person. Surprising that with all the bills and the teacher's
pay he is always complaining about that he still found a way to buy you all
that jewelry and presents. He puts up a struggle when i con him into loaning
me money, and i'm his best friend."
"Well..." Cyndi said, mumbling through what was obviously a kiss, "I
never said he wasnt a good guy...a bit boring and gullible, but a good guy.
And besides, he has only bought me a few things...the rest he paid for with
THIS!"
Jeff gasped, the burst out laughing. "His credit card! Oh that is just
perfect!! He probably doesnt even know its missing." He kissed her. "I dont
suppose you have something planned for when the end of the month comes around
and he gets the bill?"
"No need. I plan to be out of his life by then. In fact, last night's
little spat gave me just the excuse i need to dump him cold as soon as he
comes over tonight. Then the two of US can be together for good. I am tired
of all this sneaking and sleeping around, arent you? I mean, it was exciting
for the first two weeks, but after a month, it gets tiresome..."
At that point Jonothan dropped the phone and walked numbly to the door.
His girlfriend and his best friend had been cheating on him for the past
month, it seemed, and she had stolen his credit card and ran it up to the max
buying herself gifts. And she was going to dump him tonight and go off with
Jeff to live happily ever after. He felt numb all over. Stiffly he walked to
the parking lot and got in his car and crunk it...and then winced as the
engine sputtered and smoked and gave one last heave before it collapsed. Jon
got out of the car, not even turning at the sound of female laughter in the
bushes behind him, staring only at the tell tale empty one pound bag of sugar
lying on the ground discarded next to his gas tank. His mind even refused to
process this information as he merely grabbed his briefcase and walked down
the street to the nearest subway terminal.

*****chapter 4******

Jonothan stood idly in front of the turnstile waiting for the subway train
to appear, part of his mind wondering why he didnt merely lie down on the
tracks and await its arrival. From the edge of his vision, he saw a group of
what appeared to be street thugs coming his way, carrying small wooden clubs
in their hands. There was no one else around at the time; he was the only
person waiting to take the subway in the underground tunnel. A part of his
brain registered that this was a dangerous situation, that he was in trouble,
but he couldnt shake off the thick cloud that covered his conscious mind to
react. As the boys approached, laughing softly, Jonothan looked straight
ahead, eyes slightly glazed.
"Hey, you," one of them yelled next to his ear. "Professor. Yes, you with
the shirt and tie and glasses and briefcase. You dont see anyone else in here
do you? And i aint talking just to hear my own voice." The rest of the people
laughed softly, but Jonothan continued to stare into space. The thug punched
him hard in the gut, and Jonothan bent over in pain. "LOOK AT ME WHEN I AM
TALKING TO YOU YOU MOTHER FUCKER!!!" he bellowed. Jonothan's eyes focused for
a moment, then glazed over again. Some rational part of his clouded mind did
just what the man asked, it LOOKED at him, studying every nuance and feature
of him and his friends, burning them forever in his memory.
"What's in the briefcase, huh?" the boy taunted. "A big well dressed and
important man like you probably has lots of important thing inside of their.
GIVE IT TO ME!" Without a word, Jonothan handed the man his briefcase. The
thug smiled. "Good man! See, I guess you really ARE smart after all. Now
hand over yer wallet." Again, without a word, Jonothan did just that. And
again the man smiled, opening it and taking the sixty-seven dollars that had
occupied it. The man grinned whacking his club against his hand softly.
"Well, smart-man you were really really smart to give us that money, ya
know? But then again, it wasnt too smart to come onto our turn in the first
place, was it? That was pretty dumb...actually it was FUCKIN' STUPID MAN!!"
With that, he raised his club and struck Jon brutally across the top of his
head, sending him sprawling painfully to the ground. Eagerly, the rest of the
boys joined in, beating him savagely with the wooden clubs, breaking ribs
and brusing organs, while the head thug laughed at him, taunting him to get
up and do something SMART to get out of this. After a time, they all stopped
and left, the main thug leaving one last kick to the side of Jon's bloody
face before he ran. Weakly, slowly, Jonothan got to his feet, and half-walked
half-lurched to the nearest booth occupied by the rail guard, just as a group
of young women came down the stairs. They saw him stumbling from far away,
clothes torn and dirty, stumbling as if he were drunk.
"Hey Frieda, look at that bum, stumbling at us, he must be drunk out of
his MIND." The girls all pointed and laughed, calling him names as he suffled
and worked over to them. With one last lurch he stumbled and fell at their
feet, gazing with blank eyes at Freida's sandled feet as she burst into even
greater laughter. Inside his mind, Jonothan started to laugh as well, a hard
twisted maniacal laugh that echoed strangely...

*** *** *** *** *** *** ***
The doctor looked wearily at the chart under the bed of his newest and
strangest patient. John Doe. No wallet or ID on him, victim of a brutal and
callous beating in a subway station several long weeks ago. He frowned. It
was bad enough to survive such a beating and crawl to find help, but then
to lie there helpless for an hour before someone even NOTICED that you needed
help? It was a wonder the poor man hadnt bled to death or suffered some kind
pf internal injuries. Stil...he had survived, and his recouperative progress
was nothing short of miraculous. It was almost as if he was DRIVEN to get
healed. It would be several more weeks before the splits and casts came off
his broken bones, but all his other injuries had healed. The unknown man had
regained consciousness soon after the third day, but had not spoken a word.
His eyes had a fire, a....wildness in them that made the doctor shudder, as
if he were looking into the depths of madness...he had wondered, as many of
the blows had been to the head, if perhaps there had been brain damage, but
all the tests showed negative. "Maybe its psychological," the doctor said
to himself aloud. "He doesnt talk but he seems to understand everything that
is being said to him. I guess I'll have to send him upstate to the mental
hospital once he totally heals."
"No need for that doctor, I assure you that wont be necessary."
Doctor Malik nearly jumped at the sudden unexpected voice. "WHAT? OH..Oh
Mr. Doe, you are awake. I...i didnt think you were up yet, you are always so
quiet you can nev--YOU SPOKE!!" The doctor narrowed his eyes. "If you could
always speak before, why did you remain silent so long?"
Jonothan shrugged. "I had nothing to say. And besides being in a great
deal of pain even moving my jaw the past few weeks, no information i would
have had to give you except my name would have made any difference in your
examination and treatment one way or another." He looked at the doctor and
smiled, adding to the doctor's distress.
"Well, Mr. Doe, I am glad you decided to speak up. So...first of all,
what is your name? John Doe isnt much of a name."
Jonothan laughed softly. "Funny, I have kind of grown attached to it,
myself. You can continue to call me that if you wish, as it just so happens
that my real name is Jonothan."
The doctor wrote that on a notepad. "Last name?"
"None."
The doctor lifted an eyebrow. "John Nun?"
"No. NONE. N-O-N-E, as in i have none to give you." He smiled again.
"Listen," the doctor said, unnerved by his mysterious patient's demeanor,
"I need to know exactly WHO you are. Fingerprints were already taken while
you were asleep when you were first brought in and checked with all the law
enforcement agencies, so if you're a crook hiding from the law and think that
by hiding your identity you wont be caught i have news for you..."
Again, Jonothan laughed, and the doctor shivered, feeling perhaps for the
first time in his career, that a patient in his care was vastly more in
control of his own situation that he was, and it shook him, made him feel
unsure of himself, shaken. "No, my very inquisitive doctor," Jon continued
silkily, "I doubt you would find anything from them, as my fingerprints are
not on file, and i have never had anything as mundane as a parking ticket
from the law enforcement facility. What's more, if i WERE a criminal, your
hippocratic oath and hospital policy would require you to withhold any info
on me that would change the status and care i am receiving at your hands. And
just for the sake of your argument," he replied through slitted eyes, "if I
WERE some kind of criminal I would not be the type to be caught easily even
if i were in the jail infirmary."
The doctor wiped his brow. This man was so utterly confident and unshaken
in his belief of that last statement that again he wondered just who the hell
this mysterious man really was. Suddenly, he was glad he patient was splinted
and strapped tightly in place securely, not for tha fact that it kept his
healing bones motionless, but in that it kept him restrained! Shuddering a
bit, he walked from the room.
Jonothan watched him leave through half-slitted eyes, appreaing to watch
with little interest, whereas he had actually been carefully observing and
noting every single expression and worried crease in the man's face. The now
insane professor was quite busy, thinking, planning, plotting. Since he his
mind had snapped that day in the subway, he had done a lot of reflecting and
thinking about his past. Madness had cleared away the fog in his mind, leaving
everything clear and sharply in focus; his memory, always faulty before, was
now practically photographic--he memorized everything he observed, and could
recall every single detail and formula or scientific fact he had ever learned
in his life. A brilliant mind before, he was moreso now, his sympathy and
sense of morals stripped away by the madness, twisted into a logical, ordered
almost sterile way of thinking. He had one agenda: revenge, revenge on every
single person that had made his life a miserable living hell. The day he had
awoken in the hospital, he had begun to think and plan. He had not spoken the
first few days, true, because his mind was so furiously working and planning
that the simple gift of speech was too distracting--he merely shut off that
part of his brain. But oh, he knew everything that went on around him, he
observed and asessed and memorized. And the first part of his plan, to escape
from the hospital, was already in motion.
In the next three weeks he spent in the hospital, he became very well
aquainted with a young short petite blonde nurse named Mary. During his first
weeks of observing, he had made asessments of the characters of all the
doctors and nurses that attended him, judging by their postures, mannerisms,
speech, and movements whichh of them were shy, withdrawn, easily subverted.
Of those he observed, three fit the parameters, and in the following weeks,
he talked to (interviewed) them and choose Mary when he found out that she
was also, besides the other qualities, EXTREMELY ticklish. Jonothan had long
ago decided who he would extract his insane revenge against, all the women
who had rejected him, had dominated him...had LAUGHED at him, and it seemed
only fitting that his revenge make them laugh long and hard, not at him, but
at themselves because of him. His domination and control of Mary would not
only gain him his freedom, but also serve as a test of his abilities in his
attempt to gain revenge.
"Will you be stopping by to tuck me in again tonight, Mary?" he asked
sweetly, as she gave him his afternoon pills. The fact that the mysterious
patient that rarely spoke to anyone else had paid her much attention over the
past few weeks had not escaped her, and she blushed despite herself.
"Sorry, Mr. Doe," she answered meekly, "I'm the only duty nurse that
will be on tonight, and I cant leave the desk except in case of an emergency
sorry."
"Oh." Jon looked downcast, although he had known full well in advance
that Mary would be the only nurse on duty tonight. In fact, he had planned on
it weeks beforehand, memorizing the nurses' work rotation shift. He wanted to
get Mary alone with no one else on duty to hear her.
Mary noticed him look and smiled reassuringly at him. "Hey, come on now,
I'll stop by after I get some coffee and get ready to go on duty, okay?" Jon
smiled back warmly at her, causing her to blush again. "For now, you just try
to get some rest so you can get well."
Jonothan smiled softly, as she closed the door behind her. If only she
knew that he was ALREADY fully recovered from his beating. While the doctors
had been correct when they commented on his rapid progress, even THEY had not
known to what extent. As soon as he felt nearly recovered, Jonothan had found
a way to carefully remove his restraints, exercise and work his stiff body a
bit when no one was around. He had even changed to results on his chart to
make him apprear more hurt that he actually was. The doctors judged him fit
to leave in three weeks, but the truth was he was well enough to leave now.
Jon carefully released his arm from the left restraint and caught the pills
that he spit from his mouth. With this last bit, he had enough medicine saved
up to put his plan into action. Smiling, Jon leaned back and awaited night.

****** Chapter 5 ******

Jon pretended to doze. At exactly 8:54 pm he heard fotsteps outside his
room. Jon turned and smiled as, right on schedule, Mary walked in, coffee
cup in hand. "Good evening, Mary," he said pleasantly. "I was hoping you
would stop by...I thought maybe you had forgotten about me." Smiling, Mary
walked over to him, placed her coffee mug on the table, and gave him a big
hug. Hence, she was unable to see when he removed his arm from the restraints
and emptied a small cloth handkerchief of powder into her drink. "I'm glad
you came by Mary. This pillow is very lumpy and uncomfortable, and with my
limbs tied down i cant change positions. Any chance you could unstrap me---
I feel more like a prisoner than a patient."
Mary giggled softly, kissing his forehead. "Now you *KNOW* I cant do that
for you Jonothan. Doctor's orders. Besides, its for your own good. Your bones
have to be strapped and held immobile while they heal. We wouldnt want you to
cause more harm than good by moving around." Of course, Jon was fully healed
by now, though his doctored up charts told otherwise. "But I will be happy to
make you more comfortable, dear," she said fluffing the pillow. "After all,
that's what i am here for." Jonothan sighed heavily, leaning back into the
freshly fluffed pillow. Mary grabbed her mug and took a sip of coffee. "C'mon
now, lets see a smile." At which point, Jon *DID* smile happily. "See? Much
better. Oh well, I have to get to work. I'll see you later, Mr. Doe."
At 9:57pm, Mary yawned again for what must have been the thousandth
time. She couldnt understand why she was so sleepy this evening. The coffee
certainly wasnt helping---it seemed the more she drank, the sleepier she
became. Her eyelids felt gluey and gritty, and felt as if sandbangs were
tied to them. Whats wrong with me? she asked herself. She had had a six hour
rest as usual before coming in to work the late shift. She had come in fresh
and well rested and had only been to work for less than an hour. She should
not be so sleepy this early. Walking over to the sink she splashed her face
with cold water and felt better, but by the time she had made it back to her
seat, she was sleepy again. Her eyes could barely focus on the small red
blinking light on the dashboard in front of her. Blinking light? Hmmm...she
thought. There is something i am supposed to do when that light blinks. Mary
tried hard to think through the thick fog in her mind, and focused again on
the light and the number underneath it: 302. Room 302. She was supposed to
go there and attend to the patient that was paging her. Yawning again, Mary
made her way down the hall and to Jonothan's room, staring dumbly at the
person lying in the bed. She walked over to the warm inviting sight, smiling
numbly. Jon smiled at her.
"Right on time Mary." Jon said softly. "I was almost afraid I had
miscalculated a bit on the dosage. My, my, sweet Mary, you look soooooo tired
standing there." Mary smiled. His voice sounded so silky soft, velvetly
smooth and relaxing...monotonous...hypnotic. It reminded her of raindrops
falling outside on a cold winter day when youre inside and warm next to the
fireplace...she felt her mind and body relaxing at the tone of his words, now
barely able to catch their meaning in her conscious mind. "Yeeeeeesssssss...
Mary," he ontinued, "you obviousssly look as though your eyelids can just
baaaaaarrrrllleeyy keep open, they look soooo verrrrryyyy heaaavvvvyyyy...
you just want to drift off...to sleep...dont you Mary?" Her glazed tired eyes
blinked, as she smiled and nodded sleepily. Jon smiled back Seeing she was
ready, he started to prime her vulnerable open mind. "Why, even my SOOFFFFTT
...GENNNNNTLLLLEEE....VOOOIIIICCCCEEEE...must sound almost like a LULLABYE
to you now....causing you to drift deeeeppperrrrr...and deeeepppeerrrrr...
into....sleep....to the point where all you can think of is my soffft gentle
voice...guiding you to rest...to sleep...its a lifeline...a beacon that holds
you gently...caresssses you...letting you relaaaaaxxx...letting you...sleep."
With that last word, Mary dropped totally into slumber, falling softly
forward onto Jonothan's chest. He quickly removed the fake padded splints and
took his hands from the rigged resraints, sliding out of the bed, fully
dressed. He carefully placed Mary's unconscious form on the bed, whispering
softly into her ear, keeping her sleeping mind on his voice, whispering
instructions that her mind--her subconscious mind, anyway---would remember in
when she awoke.
Four hours later, Mary came to, feeling groggy. She had had the strangest
dream, in which she had been walking down an infinitely long hallway, and Jon
had tied her and stripped her naked, whispering to her softly and tickling her
helpless body all over...but that was silly. "Ah...your awake. Good." Upon
hearing Jon's voice, Mary snapped wide awake. She tried to move and found that
she was indeed totally naked and tied firmly to the bed. "Yes, yer good and
awake now, I'll wager," he said chuckling, noting her struggles. "Relax, Mary
I am not going to hurt you in any way." Mary looked up into Jon's face, and
saw the truth on his face and relaxed slightly. The more she looked into his
kind face, the more she listened to him speak, the more she even THOUGHT of
him, the more her fear vanished, the more she trusted him. All questions of
how she had been tricked and tied up, and how he had gotten free, vanished
from her mind, replaced by a warm fuzzy feeling of peace and trust. Just as
he had told her last night.
"Well, Mary, you seem to be a little tied up at the moment," he joked. "I
guess you are wondering why you are tied up." Actually, until he had said it,
the question never entered her mind. She felt the edges of clarity starting
to re-enter her clouded mind.
"Jon, what *ARE* you going to do to me...and why am i tied up? Please let
me go."
The mad professor laughed softly. "Now you *KNOW* I cant do that for you,
Mary," he said sweerly, using her own words against her. "Doctor's orders.
Besides, its for your own good. We wouldnt want you to cause more harm than
good by moving around." He walked to the foot of the bed by Mary's bare size
6 feet and gently ran a fingertip across her wrinkled soles. She shreiked,
wiggling. "And I do think you'll be moving a round."
"NOOOOOO!!! JON PLEEEEAAAASSSSEEE!!! DON'T TICKLE ME! I CANT STAND IT!
ESPECIALLY ON MY F-F-F-FEEEEET!!" Mary bucked and thrashed straining to break
free of her restraints realizing what she was in for. Jon merely smiled; he
had but briefly touched her bare foot once, and she was in a panic. *THIS*
was the power of the revenge he had planned. Why threaten with violence, or
kill or maim your enemies when a 'softer' gentler touch could accomplish such
total fear and submissiveness? Mary was completely at his mercy; had he still
been the same rational Chemisrty professor, he would have had pity or mercy
on the poor girl, but the now IRrational man looked only with a cold hard
thirst for power and control. Retreiving his suit jacket from the closet, he
took out a small case which he carried a single black raven feather. He held
it aloft gently wafting it through the air in front of Mary, showing her what
she was about to face. Jon knew from his personal experisnce from his cousins
and his older relatives that feathers dont tickle...not exactly. But the
sensation is somehow worse...and it is enough to send a person into hysterics
very quickly. Jon began softly running the soft downy feather over the pink
wrinkled soles of Mary's feet, a soft gentle effect. The reaction was worse
than the actual tickling warrented, but Mary felt so ultra-sensitive from the
anticipation and the limited mobility. Her face scrinched tightly struggling
mightily to hold back the giggles, but they trickled unstoppable from her lips
and once started, could not be stopped. "heh...hehe...no.nononono...heeeheee
heeeeeeehhehehehehahahahahahahah...staaahahahahpppp...its tiiiiiccckkling mee
and i cant staaaaaannndddd itttthehehehahhaaaaa!!!!" Jon likewise added to the
torture by using the nails of his hand, usually kept short and trim, but un
able to trim them for the months in the hospital had grown long. Mary's head
whipped wildly back and forth, as she tried to deny the laughter builing and
leaking from inside her.
Then...Jon found a particularly sensitive spot on the slight left of her
high smooth arch and Mary's dam broke. Shreiking, her laughter burst out full
force, and Jon was glad he had managed to do plan this on the day no other
personell were around; they would have surely heard the laughter. Jon started
attacking a single foot at a time now, working her left foot only, running the
feather between her wiggling toes, while using his nails on her vulnerable
arches, which caused her already hysterical laughter to increase even more.
"NOOOOOHAHAHHAHAHAHHHEEEHEHEHHAHAHAHH...GODDDDDSTOPPPPIT TICKKKLESSSSSSHEHEH
HAAAA...CANTHAHAHAH...HAHAH...CANTTTTTHEHEHEHEHEH..TAAAAAKKKEEEE..ITTTEHAHA
HA..." Mary looked a total wreck. After ten minutes of intense tickling on
just her feet alone, she was red-faced, sweat-soaked, and worn out from
wiggling, laughing, and trying to breathe. Jon gave her a short 2 minurte
rest break, and she foolishly spent it begging him not to tickle her anymore.
Jon ignored her as he went to the medicine drawer and removed a few Q-tips
and a small bottle of baby oil. 'I'll have to write the people on the asft
newsgroup after this and thank them for all the helpful tips they post,' he
thought chuckling softly to himself. Mary looked at the Q-tips, the smile on
Jon's face, and although she had no idea what was next, she knew it meant her
no good.
"Jon...please...PLEASE..." she gasped breahlessly. "No more...i...i...am
BEGGING YOU...i will die if you tickle me again...i can...oh God i can still
feel you...all over my feet...please. have mercy..." Jon smiled softly as he
stopped at her chest.
"Since you asked so submissively then i will let your feet rest a while
my sweet Mary," he said raising the Q-tip to her smooth hairless armpits. She
gasped in surprise--the only inward breath she was allowed before the laughing
began again. Mary shivered and shuddered and squirmed mightily for the first
few moments, before her poor weary body, starved for oxygen and worn out from
endless wiggling, gave out, and she lay there, quivering ever so slightly. As
she lay unmoving, she became acutely aware that the tickling was having a
rather unexpected effect on her---it was turning her on like crazy! It seemed
that every few seconds, the sensations would run up and down her whole body
hitting her most private and sensitive spots, even though they were untouched
at the moment. The tickling was agonizing, maddening, yet she was starting to
enjoy it...wanting it to stop more than anything, yet wanting and needing it
to continue. Jon seemed to know this as well, and he randomly teased her hard
peaking nipples with his fingers, as well as her inner thighs as he explored
her naked flesh. When she thought she could stand no more and welcomed the
sweet oblivion of unconsciousness, he again stopped.
"I think you are just about ready, now," Jon said smiling sweetly at his
tickled-nearly-to-death captive. Poor Mary was so exhausted and so overcome
by the tickling that she couldnnt even beg. Her mind was fuzzy, as was her
entire body. She felt like she had just ran a marathon without having slept
the week before. At this point she would gladly have done anything not to be
tickled again, but she was too tired to even tell him. Jon noticed Mary's
condition, and knew that she was close to breaking. She was a beautiful jewel
and he had his scapel raised. He could either shape and carve her in his will
or smash her to dust. He gave her a five minute rest break, talking to her
softly in that low, monotonous voice of his. "You have done very well Mary,
very well indeed," he purred. "I didnt think you could stand it but you really
surprised me by holding out this long. You have PLEASED me very much"---he
said emphasizing 'PLEASED' by rubbing her slightly wet crotch softly with his
fingertips, causing her to moan softly. "You see, I gave you some instructions
while you were asleep the first time, instructions on how to PLEASE me" he
emphasized it again "and what you must do to please me. You have now learned
what it is like when I am DISPLEASED" he emphasized by visciously attacking
Mary's helpless arches, making her gasp and whimper. "Now...you have been
trained, sweet Mary, you have no choice but to do what i say, to be loyal to
me, to TRUST me," rubbed her crotch "to BELIEVE me," rubbed again harder "to
OBEY me," at which he gently rolled her swelling clit between his fingers and
squeezed, making her moan louder and press her hips into him. "You want to
serve and please me, dont you Mary?" In her weakened mind, poor mary knew only
that the man that had her at his mercy wanted her to respond, to do something
and that there would be no tickling, but maybe a release of her sexual tension
if she answered right. Her response was immediate, almost automatic.
"Yes! YES PLEASE!!" she croaked, her voice poignant and forceful as she
could manage in the whisper that escaped her lips. Jon contiinued to play with
her little nub, and soon Mary was grinding and working her hips so much that
she no longer cared what was going on, that she was a captive, that he had
tortured her moments before---all she wanted was for him to bring her off.
"Oooohhhhhh....yessss...please donnnnttt mmmmmmm...dont stoppp...mmmmm..."
Jon moved to the end of the bed and went to her feet, his hands still working
her hot snatch. Mary, oblivious, felt a small wet sensation along her sole and
yelped softly, realizing that he was licking her bare feet. The sensation was
weird---it tickled incredibly, yet it was...different...pleasurable. The wet
tongue running up and down her ticklish soles made her want to giggle and
laugh, at the same time want to moan and sigh...and the constant working of
her pussy with his hands added to the sensation. She felt herself rising very
quick to the point of climax, but as she neared the precipace, he stopped.
"NOOO...NOOOO...gawd no, no you cant stop now not NOW, i am sooo clossee!!"
she wailed sullenly. Jon bent down and picked up the feathers and began to
stroke Mary's pussy with them, tickling her most sensitive of flesh while
he placed her big toe of the left foot into his mouth, sucking and working it
over with his tongue, licking and sucking on her wiggling digit like an ice
cream cone. Mary was shaking, nearly breathless again, her laughter pouring
out mixed with breathless moans and sighs. Her body was going into erotic
shock---she couldnt tell what was more exciting, being sucked or feathered,
but both sensations had her climbing the walls, had her right on the edge. All
she needed was the right touch to send her over that edge...and Jon was about
to give her a big push. Uncuffing a leg from the bed, le bent the leg forward
taking it closer as he moved closer to her. One feather-clutching hand moved
to her breasts and started stroking her nipples, her tits, her neck, while the
other continued to work her pussy, finally moving exclusively to her clit,
and all five toes found their way into his mouth as he licked and sucked and
snaked his tongue between Mary's sweet wiggling cherries. The combined attack
sent Mary into the stars, her body shaking as she laughed and screamed in
orgasm. Jon was merciless, however, and continued his assault, sending Mary
again and again into bliss, a mulitiple ongoing orgasm, each higher and more
potent than the one before it, until finally she screamed at the top of her
tired lungs and collapsed unconscious, a smile itched on her face. Jon still
continued to stimulate her body a few moments after she passed out, noting the
muscle spasms as her ticklish flesh still responded to his touch. Satisfied,
scientifically, at least, he let her rest, knowing the suggestions he had
given her the first time would kick in and erase the details of the event,
leaving Mary with a dim recollection, but with the same feeling and need to
be submissive and obedient to him...his tickle slave. As an added precaution,
he now gave her a keyword that would lull her back into a trance when he spoke
it aloud to her again. All set, he gently kissed her, released her straps,
and pulled a cover over her beautiful naked body before leaving the room.

****** Chapter 6 *******

"I dont know any more than you do!!" The doctor growled angrily at the
police officer making out the report. "I sent his medical records and finger
prints to your department months ago and you couldnt find any record on him.
This 'John Doe' is apparently a very healthy fellow as well, because there
are also NO MEDICAL records on file to connect him either, not even a dentist
visit. He's a ghost...a nobody! We have nothing on this man...and now we dont
even have HIM!!!"
"Calm down doctor," the officer growled back. "So what do you expect the
police ot do about it? You say this guy of yours, this John Doe, stabbed you
with a hypodermic needle, knocked you out, and escaped. How are we supposed to
find him when for all practical purposes he DOESNT EXIST???"
The distressed doctor wiped his sweat-soaked brow. "I dont know...but you
have to do SOMETHING. The man is clearly insane, and obviously dangerous. He
attacked me. Besides, I gave you a clear description of him as well as his
picture---and he's traveling in my CAR!!"
Sighing, the officer put his notepad back into his pocket. "Look, doc,
I'll be frank with you. Cars get stolen in this city every day and only a
handful ever turn up. And maybe this guy is insane and dangerous, as you seem
to THINK he is---but he is also DAMNED clever. He was in your care all this
time and you knew NOTHING about him except what little info he gave you. He
was apparently well enough to overpower you and escape, though you thought him
an invalid. He managed to destroy all the files you obtained on his medical
condition, so you cant do a DNA scan or anything to track him. And if he is
smart enough to plan all this, escape his restraints---which i PERSONALLY
looked over---and cover his tracks, then i am more than sure he is too smart
to keep your car for long. I wouldnt be surprised if he has already sold it
to a local chop-shop, and already heading out of the state." The officer shook
his head. "He came out of nowhere, and he is probably back there by now. Now
let me talk to the nurse on duty."
The officer questioned Mary for a few minutes, wrote down her statement
then left. He sighed again as he hopped into his car and headed back to the
station. He glanced once more at the face in the photograph the doctor had
given him. The word "ludricrous" came to mind. The picture was without a doubt
a snapshot of the former boxing champ Mike Tyson, currently in jail for sexual
assault. Yet the doctor INSISTED that this was the man, despite the complete
description he gave fo Mr. Doe being a short skinny WHITE MAN! He remembered
coming down to see the patient once when he came to get the statement a few
months ago; he had glimpsed him for a moment, and the man looked nothing like
Mike Tyson, but he was definitely black! The nurse's comment about the missing
drugs, the doctor's personal problems at home, and his possible alcoholic
tendencies made the officer feel more abou dropping the case on John Doe and
compiling a case against a negligent doctor. What the hell is the damn medical
profession coming to? As he drove off, he ripped out the notes he had taken
from the hospital, never once considering the possibility that John Doe might
have drugged and confused the doctor, mesmerized the nurse to make up a story
about the doctor, or planted suggestions in both their minds to prevent them
from telling anyone what he looked like.
Jonothan, meanwhile, had been very busy during the brief time of his
escape. His plan of revenge required him to travel alot, so he needed a great
deal of money, for food, lodging, travel, and tools. Emptying out his personal
accounts, he also maxed out the bank and credit cards he stole from the doctor
as well as a few thousand dollars he had obtained from the hospital safe by
Mary, also set up to blame the doctor. The poor doctor also supplied him with
another few thousand dollars as he sold his car, not to a chop shop, but to a
legitimate car dealership! He next went shopping, buying several changes of
clothes, luggage, and stocking up on supplies: he cleaned out the chemical
supply shop, then nearly cleaned out Radio Shack. His insanity increased his
intelligence and his creatitvity, and he began working on tools to help him
carry out his quest with obsessive intensity. Many of his creations would have
been of great interest to the rest of the scientific community, and a few of
them could have made him a rich man, maybe even gotten him the Nobel Prize.
But his only concern lay in his revenge.
His preparations were not solely mental, however. In the four months it
took to perfect his inventions, he started training physically as well. He
enrolled in Tae Kwan Do, Akido, Kung fu, and Karate classes, which he studied
with the same intensity. He also took a few refresher courses in Advanced
Psycology, Physiology, and even refined his compuer programming skills. When
he left for the airport, four months after he escaped from the hospital, he
was prepared to take his revenge.
*** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Jonothan chuckled to himself as he watched the TV news report at the bus
terminal. The female reporter spoke: "Again, today, 'Tickle Terror' struck
once more in the national news. Four women were found bound and gagged, all
totally nude, at a banquet hall in a small country club in Raleigh, North
Carolina, victims of another in the long series of brutal attacks. The four
women, Christy MacKenzie, Dinah Mills, Ashley Mazey, and Nicole Travis, were
apparently lured to the club for a meeting by an unknown person. They were
then knocked unconscious, stripped of their clothes, and...tickled senseless
for more than eight hours straight." The reporter shuddered ever so slightly,
perhaps not even enough for the people in the studio to notice...but Jon's
eagle eyes picked it up instantly. The typical reaction of one who is familiar
with tickling, he mused. Perhaps when his quest was over he might pay her a
visit...no, he thought dismissing the idea immediately. He was only concerned
about his revenge on those who had wronged him, like the four in the news. He
had no beef with Ms. Rodrieguez, other than a bit of biased ediorialing, and
he would not jeopardize his mission under friviolity. He paid attention to the
rest of the report. "...Sadly, like all, the others, the four women were found
hysterical, out of their minds, babbling rapidly, and begging anyone nearby
to tickle their feet." She shuddered again, as a look passed over her face.
"They were rushed to a nearby psychiatric ward for therapy, brining the total
tickle total up to twelve." Thirteen, Jon corrected mentally. His first victim
had not wronged him as grievously as the others, so he had allowed her to keep
her sanity, thus she had not reached the public eye of the news. "Police are
still baffled and confused about the mysterious tickler nicknamed 'John Doe'
and his apparently random pattern of attacking innocent women. The FBI is also
said to be at a loss, but the officail statement is 'No Comment' from the
federal investigators. The most baffling aspect of the crime is the strange
unsettling fact that no one knows what John Doe looks like. From the nearly
mad victims a wide range of descriptions hace come forth---a large heavyset
white blonde woman, a short bald Korean man, a redheaded Irish teenage boy,
a tall skinny black man, just to name a few. This leads this reporter to
wonder if perhaps there IS one John Doe after all, or perhaps a gang of them,
or maybe just a contagious outbreak of deviant behavior in our society today.
In other news..."
Smiling, Jon crossed the last four names off his long list of names. The
four women had plauged him every day in chemistry and physics class in high
school, taunting him and teasing him. When they had somehow noticed the
glances he gave their feet whenever they went shoeless in class, they figured
out his fetish, and spread it around school, humiliating him. Jon smiled as
he pictured the girls, who had grown up to be wealthy fashion models, now
modeling the newest straightjacket fashions. Jon carefully folded the crossed
out list and put it in his pocket---wouldnt do to let anyone find it in the
trash and trace it to him---and took out a smaller newer list. These last few
names he had saved for last, those that had wronged him most of all on that
day, so long ago, almost a year, when his life had changed forever. Angela
McAllister and Michael Robertson, aka Angelique and Max_Leland; Cyndi Turner
and Jeff Whelchel, his ex-girlfriend and ex-best friend; Christy Swanson and
Jessica Barnell, the two young girls that had gotten him fired. And at the
very bottom of the list, the most hated name of all, his ex-boss: Elizabeth
Andrews, the dean of Natural Sciences. He glanced again at the top two names
of his old IRC 'friends', both of whom, luckily, lived in the same city of
Los Angeles...where the bus arriving would take him.
*** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Michael whistled cheerfully as he opened the door to his office. Last
night had been the single best night of sex he had had in a long time. Angela
hardly lived up to her 'angelic' name, but they had both drifted off to sleep
drained and very satisfied. Today, he was being promoted from a junior exec to
a senior execitive by the President of the firm after he made his presentation
to the stockholders. He had caught every green light on the way to work, and
Deana, the cutest girl in the secretarial pool winked at him as he came in,
blowing him a kiss. This had to be the best day of his life! He greeted his
secretary, Anna, who smiled politely. "You have a little surprise in your
office waiting for you, Mr. Robertson. The delivery man just delivered it a
little less than an hour ago." Michael smiled as he opened his door, seeing
the bouquet of roses and box of chocolate on his desk waiting for him. He
sniffed the flowers idly as he opened the card attached: Dear Michael, last
night was the best night i ever had in my whole damn life! You are wonderful.
Have a great day <KISS> Love Angela....(P.S.) Sweets for my sweet. Try one
now, and think of tasting my 'creamy filling' while yer at work today as a
little APPETIZER for tonight. <WINK>
Michael laughed out loud. His 'Angel' definitely had a way with words, the
very words on the card having given him a swelling erection already. Tearing
open the box of chocolates he bit into one, enjoying the cool creamy cherry
cordial, thinking about the sweet taste of Angela he would get to sample later
tonight. A moment later, his body was flushed with arousal, more intense than
he could have believed. He ate another candy, and another, devouring the entire
box in moments, feeling his hard-on pressing against his restrictive pants. He
closed the door and darkened the shutters, nearly ran to his easy chair, and
unzipped his pants, stroking himself into a frenzy. Within a few minutes he
exploded, his hot sex running down his legs. dripping from the edge of his desk
where it had shot. He was hard again almost instantly, his need not nearly
sated. This time he stroked himself slower, taking his time, bringing himself
to a slow boil before the explosion, just as powerful as the first. Mike sighed
softly, collapsing unconscious atop his desk.
Jon snickered softly at the spectacle from outside the office window on
the trellis. It had only taken $50 to change places with the normal window
washer to get such a free access to the building. He had sent Mike the flowers
and the candy after observing he and 'Diabolique' last night, after which he
had done just what Mike had. But his little 'gifts' had been doctored with a
little synthetic female pheromone extract he had created and concentrated into
a very viable aphrodisiac. Jon pulled a small remote control from his pocket
and pressed the first button, turning off the hidden jets of knock out gas he
had planted. The second button he clicked turned on the small cassette deck
he had also planted, filling the office with soft music and subliminal messages
for the sleeping junior exec. Grinning, Jon moved over to the next window where
part two of his plan was in effect. The secretaries were standing around the
room drinking coffee. An advertisement form an old coffee comercial came to
his mind suddenly, and with glee, he softly recited it.
"We're here at Thompson, Thompson, MacGrueder, and Thompson's" he
whispered, "where we have secretly switched the coffee they NORMALLY drink
with our own specially blended mountain grown coffee, laced with a female
version of my synthetic pheromone extract. Lets see if they can tell the
difference." After a few minutes, each of the eleven secretaries began to
sigh softly, sweat beginning to trickle from their brows, as if the thermostat
had suddenly climbed a few hundred degrees. All were twitching, their thighs
all rubbing together noticably, and a few were openly rubbing their crotches
through their skirts. "I'd say they noticed," Jon whispered. "Mental note,
pheromone extract at 3 times normal concentration has effects as calculated.
For future use, consider twice normal concentration." If his plan were to
procede as anticipaed, he had better be careful not to overplay the hornieness
of his subjects, lest they satisfy themselves before the 'catalyst' arrives.
Jon flicked the third and forth buttons on the control, activating a small
container of ammonia to wake Mike up, and deactivating the taped music. Then
taking out a small portable video recorder, he prepared for the show.
Michael awoke grogily. What happened, he wondered. He had gotten so
turned on by Angela's gifts that he nearly blew a gasket. Shaking his foggy
head, he glanced at the clock: 10:45!!! SHIT!! He had been out cold for almost
an hour, and his presentation was at 11:00am sharp! He groaned as he got to
his feet, straitenig his clothes...and nearly toppled over dizzily. He felt
as if he had been drugged, still fuzzy and lightheaded. One thought rang clear
in his otherwise cottony brain: COFFEE. A cup of coffee would wake him up.
Mike got shakily to his feet, stumbling, shuffling down the hall past a very
shocked Anna. Reaching the secretarial pool, he walked in, whereupon all noise
stopped as every woman in the place looked at him. He had seen the look before
the look a hungry man gives a piece of meat. They wanted him, a voice in his
head told him, and even without that silent urging, his pheromone-drugged body
was responding as his hands began stroking his hardening cock inside of his
sepping pants. The result was almost instantaneous.
Outside Jonothan idly stroked himself as he taped the incident. As before
things had gone exactly as predicted. Eleven horny secretaries and one horny
man together in one room. The first woman, Deana, nearly threw herself at him
which caused a stampede of women trying to rip his clothes off and get a piece
of him. And blissed out, and horny as well, Mike was doing the same to them,
except a little something else Jon had placed in his mind made him want...no
NEED to tickle the lovely women as well. Moans and groans mixed with laughs
and shreiks, as the group turned into one huge orgy, with Mike and four other
women, together, serveral satisfying themselves, and two pairs giving each
other a rimming. After a few minutes, a large crowd had begun to gather around
to watch the spectacle, most of which were too shocked to even interfere, and
a few that were contemplating joining in. Soon a very embarrassed and shocked
Anna burst into the room. "Mr. Robertson, what are you DOING? You have a
presentation to give, NOW, and Mrs. Thompson is waiting!"
"Fuck her, leave me alone," he moaned softly, his words garbled by the
large bare breast in his mouth from the woman on his immediate right. He felt
like an octopus, his arms and legs softly rubbing and stroking a woman, both
satisfying and tickling them all, wrapped in a cocoon of love and bliss. Anna
was hard pressed between erotic pleasure at the sight and disgust as such a
fragrant sexual display. She headed to the safety of the door, trying one last
time.
"Mr. Robertson, this is your CAREER you are throwing away here! You are
being promoted today remember? If you dont get yourself together and get up
there now you are through here. If this little escapade hasnt finished you
already."
Anna's words slapped Mike back to reality, and with a gasp he came to his
senses. His presentation! Mike pulled away from the tangle of women, pulled
on his clothes and ran past the muttering crowd to the elevator. "SHIT!! I
forgot the damned video tape for the presentation!!!" Running at top speed,
Mike burst into his office, grabbed an unmarked videotape on his desk, and ran
back to the elevator...which opened, revealing none other than Mrs. Thompson
herself!
"Well, there you are, Robertson," she commented icily. "I was about to
send out the bloodhounds. You DO realize you have a presentation to give to
all the major stockholders upstairs right now?" Nodding, speechless, Mike slid
in beside his the President of the company.
"I'm really sorry, Mrs. Thompson, I was held---" he began.
"Save it." she cut him off. "Just get in there and impress those very
important people in there and we can forget your being late."
Moments later, Mike addressed the stone-faced people facing him as he
inserted his tape into the machine and stepped beside Mrs. Thompson, sitting
at his left. "Ladies and gentlemen, sorry for the delay, I had just a few last
second details to take care of. I am a man of few words, for me, actions speak
much louder, so without further ado, i will show this short video presentation
of my proposal for the next fiscal year to increase productivity and morale,
as well as a viable way to bring in more capital into the firm." Sweating, he
turned on the tape and sat next to Mrs. Thompson, hoping his impromptu speech
would suffice as an opening.
It took approximately two seconds to know his career was permanently shot
to hell, and in the next eight seconds following, a thousand thoughts ran thru
his frazzled, crumbling mind, just as the first gasp of fear and disgust came
from a board member. Mike numbly wondered, in between the many spiraling
thoughts in his head, just HOW a video tape of his escapade moments ago in the
secretary pool had been made and placed in his office...and how he could have
just played it to the boss and the owners of the company. As the murmurs of
outrage and disgust grew in volume, Mike's mind shifted again to a thought
inplanted in his sleep, as he gazed down at the lovely petite 48 year old
president of the company, her red satin pump dangling sexily from her taupe
colored stockinged toes as she literally shook with rage.
"Shut that bloody piece of filth off right now!!!" she bellowed. One of
the staff members ran and cut it off, turning the lights back up as well. "Is
this some kind of sick perverted JOKE? Your 'actions' certainly spoke volumes
to me just now, and they said you are a sick twisted individual! Increase
morale and bring in capital INDEED!! What do you have to say for yourself?"
She turned to face him, jaw dropping slightly as she noticed he was not in
his chair. "Huh? What...where did he...hehhe...hehehehehehehhhhhAHHAHAHAHAHA
HAHAHAHHHAHEEEEEEEEEEIIII!!!" Mrs. Thompson's words exploded into shreiking
laughter as she glanced down underneath the table to see Mike, busy licking
and sucking on her toes, tickling her stockinged foot along the arches and
instep with his fingers. "NOOOOO!!!! Soooomemememehehehehe someone caaaaallll
seeeecurityyyyeeeeehehehehehehehe!!! My feeeeettt!! Hahahahahahahahaha!!!"
Mike, completely oblivious to everything else, happily licked and sucked his
former boss lady's feet, numbly knowing that this was the worst day of his
life, but happy and content to spend his next few moments of freedom at his
lovely boss' feet.
****** Chapter 7 *******

Growling softly, Angela walked up to her front door and sighed. This had
to be the WORST day of her life. Somehow, it seemed that everything that could
have went wrong had gone wrong. Her computer at work had crashed on her, just
before she could save her 15 page progress report for her supervisor. The
coffee machine had malfunctioned, splattering her clothes with hot coffee. She
was not burned, luckily, but her white silk blouse and skirt were ruined. She
had caught every red light to and from work. Then, as she stopped at the bank
to get some cash, the teller machine ate her card and shredded it. Now, to
top it all off, it had turned into a downpour as she left her car, and by the
time she reached the porch, she was thouroughly soaked. This was definitely
a bad day.
Typing in her computer code, Angela deactivated the ADT security system.
Or TRIED to. The console still showed red for active. Cursing softly, she again
entered her code, and again the light shown red. With a cry, she hit the whole
console with her fist, and surprisingly, it showed greem. Smiling, Angela
walking into her home. "Well," she said aloud to herself,"maybe this means my
luck is FINALLY changing for the better."
"Dont count on it," a low, smooth voice commented from the dark shadows
of the wall beside the door. Angela gasped as a hard firm hand grasped her
neck, right next to her clavical. Then with a small pinch, she felt nothing
at all.
*** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Angela awoke to find herself tied spread eagle to her bed. Her raven black
trusses were spread about on the pillow cushioning her head. Her arms and legs
were securely fastened to the posts of the bed with several pairs of her nylon
stockings. She was also nearly completely naked, except for her black lace
panties. Her golden tanned skin glistened slightly with a thin layer of sweat
as she considered her situation, trying to quell the rising panic she felt
about to overwhelm her. She vaugely remembered a man's voice...someone had
snuck into her house and knocked her out...damned stupid security system, all
that money, and it kept HER out and let him in. Then, suddely, Angela smiled.
There was only one other person she knew that had the security code to her
home and was kinky enough to knock her out and tie her up this way. After last
night, Michael must be in the mood to play 'RAPE Fantasies' or something. She
gave her bonds a firm tug, noting that she was, indeed, securely tied. There
was no escape. "Michael," she called giggling softly. "Michael, I KNOW its you
out there, sweetheart. C'mon, lover, dont keep me waiting. You have me all tied
up and at your mercy...what are ya gonna do with me?"
"I'm sorry, Michael couldnt make it, he got tied up at the office--- and
I am speaking literally," Jon smiled as he walked into view, noting the look
of surprise and terror on Angela's face. Mike had indeed been restrained by
the security and carted off, giggling like a fool to the Lakeside Psychiatry
complex. "But you are rigth about being tied up and at my mercy, Angelique.
Pity i have none left to give."
"Who the fuck are you?" she shrieked loudly. "HELP!! HEEEEEELLLPPP!! There
is a MADMAN in my house...POLIC---umph!!!" Jon nodded satifactorily at Angela's
garbled words as she struggled to remove the gag in her mouth. With a look of
mirthless humor, Jon walked around to the foot of the bed where Angel's small
pink bare feet wiggled helplessly. Her eyes grew wide as she saw him remove a
long wicked-looking silver letter opener from his coat pocket, her mind filling
with a mulititude of imagined horrors. She began to beg and weep through her
gag, praying that she survive with her life.
"I see you dont remember me," Jon said, looking disappointed. "Well, I
cant really blame you for that. After all, Max_Leland seems to have made a
much bigger impression on you than I ever could have hoped to." He walked over
to the entertainment center on the wall opposite the bed and inserted a tape
into the VCR, turning it on. Angela watched shocked as the man she had loved
and trusted to bring into her life proceded to fuck and suck and tickle five
or six other women in an office orgy. Then she closed her eyes, tears streaming
down her cheeks, unable to clear the image from her mind. "Sad isnt it? This is
the man you dumped me for, Angel? One would think just knowledge of seeing the
man you love in the arms of SEVERAL other women would be punishment enough for
you, but no...i had warned you before about 'Ol Maxy' but you chose him over
me anyway. So you can suffer like he did." Something registered deep in Angel's
mind at the mention of 'Ol Maxy', but befogged as she was at seeing her love's
betrayal, it took time for his words to sink in. Jon sighed, still seeing no
recognition in her eyes. "Fine. You havent quite figured it out yet, so I will
just tell you, Angelique...or should i call you Diabolique?" At that she started
loudly. "Yes. It is I, Jonothan Smith, your ex-friend from IRC, but now known
far and wide as John Doe. After all the secrets I shared with you---and you
told Max---I am SURE you can guess what i have planned for you now, cant you?"
Jon bent over and removed her gag. "Well, speak up, woman."
"Jon! YOu sick fucking BASTARD!! You're never going to get away with this
let me go right now or i am going to scream for the police and---"
"You'll do NOTHING!" Jon shouted, brandishing the letter opener. Angela
quailed against the bed, again remembering who was the one tied and helpless.
"I'm sorry...I'm sorry. I'll behave, please please just dont hurt me," she
begged starting to cry softly. "I dont know what you want but take it PLEASE
and leave me alone." Jon laughed softly again, sending chills down Angela's
spine.
"That is exactly what i intend to do. Take what i want from you and then
leave you in peace. But...what i take from you might not be something you are
so ready to give up. As for HURTING you? Angel, i'm surprised at you. You of
all people should know what I want, and it will be totally painless." With
that, Jon grasped the edge of the letter opener and lightly scraped it down
the center of her left sole, causing it to jerk away slightly. Angela shrieked
and Jon moved the opener down her right sole. Another shriek escaped Angela's
lips, not so much from the tickling sensation, but more from the knowledge of
what her fate was going to be. She suddenly recalled all the stories Jon had
shared with her over IRC concerning his fetish, how he had been an avid reader
of thw alt.sex.fetish.tickling newsgroup, had compiled long detailed stories
of what he would do if ever he had a chance to live out a tickling fantasy.
But most of all she recalled the brief news reports she had noted in passing
about John Doe, who had tickled women across the country until they went mad.
"Oh God Jonothan, please PLEASE, nooo. not that, anything but that, please
I'll give you money, jewelry, even my BODY, anything, just dont TICKLE ME!!"
she nearly screamed. All the urging he needed, Jon began scratching and teasing
Angela's feet in earnest, drawing random patterns along the bottom of her
wiggling peds. Her laughter increased predictibly when he explored the tender
flesh under the curl of her spasming toes, and increased again as he assaulted
the untra-sensitive flesh in between her toes. A smile grew along Jon's face
as he watched her feet writhe and twitch. Angela had very pretty feet: the pink
soles of her size 6 1/2 feet were soft, uncalloused, even at the heels. She
had once confided to him that she got a pedicure almost every week, and thou
she never considered herself TICKLISH, she had told him how extra sensitive
they were after a session. The bright purple nail polish on your long rounded
toes was very new, signaling that they had been pedicured within the last two
days at the most. The second toes were exactly the same length as the big toes
and they rubbed against them as Angela curled her toes tightly, trying to arch
her feet away from the tickling blade. "HahahahhahahHhehehheheeeh...aahhahhah
oh gaaaawwwddd....pleehehehehehaaaassssseeee.....ssssstttooopppp!! I cant i
cant cant taaaaaaakeee anymorrrreee!!! wwwhahahhahahahahahaaaaaa!!"
Within seven minutes, Angela was red faced, drenched in sweat, and near
exhaustion. Jon noticed her condition and stopped, moving away from her to
look through her closet for something. As the poor woman struggled to regain
her breath, the one thought running through her mind was 'thank God he stopped
and thank goodness i didnt wear stockings today. Her mind flashed back to the
last time she had been tickled on her feet by her older brother back in high
school: she had been wearing stockings that day, and after ragging on her
brother and his friends for being caught smoking in the bathroom, they had
jumped her and ripped off her shoes and tickled her feet. One of them was
curious as to whether of not it tickled MORE to tickle stockinged feet or bare
feet, and ripped the bottoms off one foot. Tickling of one bare and one foot
encased in nylon sent her into hysterics, and she had been so worn out by the
incident she had missed the rest of her classes that day. So, when Jonothan
returned with a pair of grey silk hose, she nearly started sobbing.
"Oh, come on now, Angela," he said smiling. "Lets be adults about this
okay? It will be over soon, and its just a little tickling, as you always used
to say when i told you how I was tickled by my relatives growing up." Jon
bent down and untied her left leg from the post, which immediately drew back
towards her body for protection. "Now, I am hold this pantyhose leg out for
you to put your leg in. Dont try to fight it, or kick me, or anything smart,
just relax and submit. Otherwise I will tickle you silly for an hour or two
until you pass out or get so tired and worn out that you cant even move, then
after i put it on you, I'll tickle you another hour for misbehaving...all that
before the REAL tickling begins." He crossed his arms and glared at her, and
Angela saw the deadly seriousness in his eyes and knew it was true. "So, what
will it be, one hour of tickle torture, or three?" Trembling, Angela raised
her freed leg slowly, sliding it up into the panythose leg. Her mind was
screaming at her to fight back, to resist, to do SOMETHING, ANYTHING but do
what this madman wanted her to do, but the thought of a triple session of
torture effectively sapped her will to resist. Resigned to her fate, she
closed her eyes tightly, breathing deeply, trying to savor the air that would
soon be forced from her lungs.
Jonothan retied the leg to the post and walked around in front of Angela.
He surprised her by attacking her underarms, softly stroking the soft, barely
visable layer of dark hair covering her pits, making her burst into laughter
once more. His fingers danced lightly over her quivering flesh, teasing her
sweet, hairy pits lightly, just grazing the skin. Angela bucked mightily to
and fro, rying futilely to escape, finally exhausting herself. Her laughter
became little giggling coos as Jon began rubbing and circling his thumbs back
and forth in the center of her pits, and when he began smoothing the entire
flat palms against them, she began to twitch and moan through laughter. His
tickling had changed subtly to a more sensual, more erotic tone, and as his
roving hands streaked out all over her bared chest, nuzzling her neck and
caressing her breats before returning to her armpits, she was rapidly losing
control of herself. It was somehow much better and much worse than the insane
foot tickling, and unable to do anything but respond Angela was soon ready to
climb the walls. Jon, always alert, began to gently tickle and caress her fat
peaking nipples, gently, not enough to bring her off, but enough to keep her
on the verge. Heavy moans were now interlaced with her soft pealing laughter,
and Angela was freaking out as she begged for the tickling to stop, then, just
as heartfelt, pleading for it NOT to stop. Her hips were bucking and writhing
as Jon's hands gently swept over them lightly, tickling her pouting lips and
her inner thighs, careful not to touch her clit. Then, as Angela felt she must
either cum from the sensations or die trying---he stopped.
"Well, that was a good warm up I think...and i certainly have your total
attention now," he said smirking. "Now your torment can begin. Let me explain
the rules to you, 'Angel' so you can understand what you have to do. I am
going to tickle you, all over, whereever I wish, anyway I wish, for a solid
hour." He pointed to a small digital timer he had placed on top of the VCR in
plain sight. It was stopped at 1:00:00.0 and a green READY light was flashing.
"If you can stand an entire hour of tickling, I will let you go. Simple as
that. *BUT* there are a few rules: #1. you beg me to stop and I start the hour
over. #2. you pass out, and i let you rest five minutes and start the hour
over. #3. if you cum or have an orgasm, I start the hour over, IMMEDIATELY. You
wouldnt believe how much MORE ticklish a person is after they cum. Anyway, this
is punishment, not pleasure, so you're not allowed to cum. #4. If you pee on
yourself, I...well you get the idea." Jon clicked the small remote control in
her hand, slipped it into his pocket, and started tickling Angela's feet.
Twenty-two hours later, Angela collapsed yet again into a writhing,
senseless mass of flesh, no longer able to laugh or shake, only idly twitch.
Sighing softly, Jonothan drops his small ice-chilled butter knife to the floor
next to the rest of his tickling implements used that day: several q-tips,
feathers, a stiff hairbrush, several fine paint brusted, a waterpik, ice cubes
and even an old fuzzy tennisball. They had all reduced Angela into jelly, but
none were as pleasing to him as his own fingers and tongue. A smile a mile long
was etched on his face as he looked at the again unconscious body of his victim
who also wore a smile across her face. But her smile was more manic than happy.
Nearly a full solid day of intense tickling had taken a toll on the once
lovely, self-assured young woman. Her dark black hair was now a tangled gnarled
mess all over the pillow. Her entire body was red and sweatsoaked, as if she
had been running a marathon in the desert at high noon. Even untouched, her
poor abused body twitched in imagined tickling, responding to the lighest blow
of air with a jerk. Her nipples lierally pulsed with arousal, hard as iron.
Her pussy was likewise flushed and throbbing, wetness dripping all down her
thighs. Poor woman, after about the fourh hour of tickling, she nearly managed
to withstand it without begging or passing out---she had made it to fifty-four
minutes, when Jon savagely changed his tactics, tickling her nipples and her
inner thighs, focusing all around but NEVER ON her clit. Her body had throbbed
begged and pleaded for release, and she fought herself to keep from begging,
knowing she could not endure the after of such a bountiful release. But at the
last minute, forty-five seconds shy, she caved in, begging and pleading for Jon
to make her cum. Not totally without mercy, he set her off, licking and tonguing
her clit as he continued to tickle, sending her through the roof again and
again, until she passed out, totally drained. Jon smiled, waiting five minutes
then waking her with a splash of ice cold water and starting the hour over
again. From then on, the pattern went: he would tickle her visciouly for 45
minutes, then during the last 15 change to erotic tickling, sending her to
the edge, making her wait if she begged, leaving her frustrated and starting
the hour anew. If she didnt beg, he would stroke her clit and nipples and make
her hit orgasm, or merely intensify the tickling so much she would pass out.
The end result, after ten hours, Angela was unable to do anything but respond
having LONG ago lost all rational thought. Her mind peeled away with each tickle
and poke until she was quite mad, unable to think or know anything beyond the
tickling. And the only things in her head resembling logical thoughts were the
subliminal messages he had given her upon knocking her out in the beginning.
Jonothan glanced at his watch. Cursing softly, he began to gather the
stuff he had taken from Angela's room during her many unconscious moments. She
had been a close friend once. and he had sent her many gifts, his picture, and
had a lot of conversations with her. He had systematically gatherd everything
that connected her with him and placed it in the small briefcase that housed his
tickling tools. Now, it was nearing time to leave---he had a plane to catch in
less than an hour and he had been up all day and night tickling without rest.
"I'm as tired as you," he said to Angela softly, kissing her cheek, "after all
*I* did all the work, you merely lay there." Gently, he untied her hands and
feet, walked over to her computer, inserted a diskette with a nice little virus
he had created, and wiped her hard drive clean, erasing any last traces of data
she had on him. Then he idly tickled her foot as he grabbed his briefcase and
walked to the door, closing it behind him. Taking out one of the electronic
devices he had created, he inserted a plug into the ADT console and hit TIMER on
the device, setting up a 15 minute countdown before the alarm would sound,
calling he police to discover yet another John Doe victim.

****** Chapter 8 *******

Jonothan yawned sleepliy as he tuned to radio station in his walkman to
a local jazz station, trying to wake up. The sleep he had caught on his seven
hour lay-over from L.A. to Chicago on his way home seemed like hardly enough
to revive him. Maybe it was a combination of things, he thought wearily. In the
time he had taken up his 'quest', he had changed totally, physically as well
as mentally and emotionally. He had trimmed from a heavyset stocky man to an
almost skinny, gaunt, emanciated version of himself. He was muscular and well
toned, with a wiry look. He had shaved his thick well kept beard and mustache
off in the last year, his hair had grown long, and straight, showing a little
more of his Indian bloodlines. He no longer wore his reading glases, and his
light hazel contact lenses made completed his new appearance. He felt as if he
was a whole different person. Or maybe it was a feeling of anxiety as he neared
the completion of his revenge...the soldier-without-a-war syndrome? At the end
of his plan, he would be reinstated back at his job with a raise and promotion
as well as back pay, if he wanted it, but after the life he had led the past
year, it seemed almost anti-climatic to return to mundanity. The closer he
came to nearing his goal, the more he felt as if he had no real purpose after
it was achieved.
Glancing up at the nearby pay television monitor of a man next to him, he
turned off his music and listened to the newest news report on John Doe: "This
is Ralph Nadier, reporting for Mitzi Rodrigeuz who is on vacation. Our top
story centers on Los Angeles, California where an end to the John Doe case
may be at hand. Police and FBI agents discovered another victim, a young woman
named Angela McAlister, was found in her home, tickled out of her mind, the
victim of what is assumed to be more than 15 hours of straight torture. The
officials investigating the case found her giggling and laughing incoherently
tickling her naked body with a small white feather. Invsetigators believe that
they have ascertained the name of the perpetrator, a Mr. Michael Robertson.
His fingerprints were found all over Ms. McAlliser's house, and a video tape
was retrieved from a small VCR showing a naked man writhing and tickling among
no less than six other women, and upon seeing the footage, the victim shook
violently and called the name 'Michael' before sinking back into a catatonic
state of giggling. A state wide search of Mr. Robertson is currently underway,
and Ms. McAllister is being transported to the nearby Lakeside Psychiarty
complex. In other news, a rabid dog..."
Jonothan smiled. If they took Angela to the Likeside Center, they would
probably come across the object of their manhunt. At any rate, whether or not
they belived the false trail of evidence he has planted at Michael's house,
the case would be considered closed until a new vicim showed up. And when the
last five victims DID show up in the news, he would make it appear to be the
work of a 'copycat' and not the same man, leaving a few discrepancies here and
there. The one small snag was how to give the initial idea to the public of a
copycat perforning the last crimes. As he contemplated this, Jon slipped the
radio on, and settled back glancing idly at the people walking by.
*** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Why the HELL do I have to be FORCED to take a vacation? the woman thought
to herself. Sure, she had enough vacation time saved up this year alone for a
long paid month-long vacation, time that she was required to use up, but for
a dedicated, hard-working woman like her, work was her life. They are giving
me a death-sentence, she thought miserably. As the anchor woman for the
Channel 9 news station, the thought of being unable to appear on camera and
annouce the news for two weeks was as close to hell as she could imagine.
"Oh well," she said on the ride back home, "at least this gives me an excuse
to visit the folks over in Boston." So she packed a few belongings and caught
a taxi to O'hare airport for the first flight to Boston.
As she sat down at the terminal waiting area to await her flight, she
glanced up at a tall black man figiting nervously across from her. Their eyes
met a momen and he smiled shyly and looked away. Mitzi grinned wickedly at his
reaction; a tall golden-tanned woman of 38 with long brown hair and an obvious
Spanish ancestry, she had been too busy with her career life to be bothered
with men in her life, but it was nice to know she still had the looks to make
a grown man blush. "I'm heading to Boston to see my folks," she said with a
warm smile as he again glanced her way. "Where are you heading?"
"Boston too," he said, looking disinteredly over his shoulder. He then
suddenly leaned forward and whispered quietly, "You're that reporter from the
Channel 9, Mitzi Rodrieguez?"
Mitzi was a bit taken aback, but nodded. "Yes, I am. On vacation. Nice
to meet a fan."
The man nodded briskly, then got up and walked to the newspaper display
over beside the snack machines. Mitzi frowned, a bit confused at his actions,
then sighed as he noticed the man gesturing to her to follow him. "Oh great,"
she said softly, "another nut. Why do the cute ones always have to be nuts?"
Resigned and curious, she followed the man to the news stand, a small feeling
in her gut telling her that there was somethig nt quite right about this man.
"I dont kn--"
"SHHHH!" he hissed. "Please...dont talk. Just listen. I havent much time
and if he sees me talking to you then---well, he CANT see us talking okay? He
will know it was me that told you." He glanced again over his shoulder, and
Mitzi followed his gaze to a tall lanky man wearing a buisness suit and wearing
headphones on his head. "You've been following that story about John Doe the
tickler? Well...thats HIM back there!!! His name is Jonathan Smith, an old
friend of mine from college. He is a physics and chemisty teacher...and he has
a tickling fetish. He told me once when we were roommates. My name is Sam.
Sam Shepard. Please...its too open here, too public. I'll gladly tell you all
I know, and give you all the proof i have collected on him, if you will meet
me later at a more private spot, away from prying eyes and ears." Before she
could answer, he grabbed the paper, tossed 65 cents on the counter, and walked
back to his seat, leaving Mitzi stunned.
John Doe. Here. Less than fifty feet away from her. Mitzi gave a little
shudder. The feeling in her gut had been right, here was a story here, and a
bit of danger as well. While she distrusted anyone she didnt know, especially
someone who acted like a player in a really bad spy movie, the idea that she
could have the exclusive story on John Doe was very enticing. She, for one,
hadnt believed for a moment that the real John Doe would ever have been so
careless or stupid to leave so much evidence at the sight of his latest victim
or his own house. And though there was little chance that she would have come
face to face with the maniac like this, while she was on vacation no less, the
possibility of truth was more than enough to persuade her. She watched very
carefully as Sam walked back to their seats, pulled a piece of paper from his
pocket and dropped it into HER seat and walked to the bathroom down the hall.
That feeling in the pit of her stomach tightened as she carefully walked back
to her seat, unfolded the note and read: "Please believe me. I am going to the
third maintence room next to gate five. I will prove who John Doe is. Meet me
in ten minutes. And PLEASE MAKE SURE he doesnt follow you.---Sam"
Mitzi carefully peered at the man with the headphones, listeing to music
idly tapping his foot. She nearly jumped out of her skin as he turned to look
at her, but she managed to smile at him, and he looked away. The feeling in
her stomach pounded at her, telling her to walk away from this and go to the
police, but her stubborn jounalistic pride kept her seated for ten minutes,
then led her to the maintence room, unlocked and dark.
"Hello?" she squeaked, her voice going high as she entered the dark greasy
room. The room was rather large, with heavy stone walls, and a very large air
conditioner machine occupied more than half of the space. A series of single
bulb lights adorned the sides of the walls, casting weird shadows, making the
room even MORE forboding then less. Mitzi shuddered to herself. She was most
definitely NOT cut out for all this cloak-n-dagger shit. "Sam? Sam? Its me,
Mitzi. I'm here...and i wasnt followed." She gave a gasp as he appeared almost
out of nowhere, being concealed in the shadows. Sam was wringing his hands
fearfully, a look of anxiety upon his face. He apparently wasnt suited for
cloak-n-dagger type theatrics either.
"Quick! Close the door behind you!" he said nervously. "Even if he didnt
see you, the last thing we need is for some airport worker to walk by and see
the door open and to find us both here." Ignoring the growing feeling of
nervousness she felt in the pit of her stomach, she closed the heavy steel
door. The room had been well chosen. Not a single sound came from outside, and
the turned off AC unit made no noise whatsoever.
"Okay, Sam. We're alone here, and no one can hear us. You said you had
proof of who John Doe really is, and that you would show me. Well, before we
go any further, I want to see it, now."
Almost in a blur, Sam's face changed from anxiety, to contentment, to what
could best be expressed as wry humor. Taking a hand from his pocket, he showed
Mitzi a small metal box that resembled a small Star Trek Tri-corder or something
close. "You want proof, Ms. Rodriguiez, you got it." he said with a grin. "And
just remember, you asked for it." He flicked a switch on the console and a
blue light flashed over Mitzi's body. In an instant, she knew that she had been
duped, that she had been wrong, and she felt the spasm in her gut go off the
scale. Then she felt nothing at all.
*** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Mitzi came to with a groan as she felt something being pulled from around
her ears. Nervously she tried to turn her head to look around her...and found
she couldnt! With rising panic she remembered what had happened to her, how
she had been lured here and subdued. Sam was busy wrapping a smooth nylon rope
around her waist, tying her to the concrete column in the center of the room,
and as much as she wanted to, she couldnt struggle or pull away. She couldnt
even raise her unbound hands to strike him. It was as if she was paralyzed,
except she could FEEL, just not move. "Let me go you bastard!" she screamed as
forcefully as she could through a wooden-like jaw. Even her mouth was hard to
move. "Let me fucking go or so help me i'll see you behind bars!" she hised.
"I'm not quite as sure what you just said, but the meaning is pretty clear
i think," he said with a grin. He tied the rope tightly, then proceded to take
off her blouse and skirt, leaving her wearing her underwear. "Perhaps being in
a more...exposed manner you will understand just how helpless you are, Ms.
Rodrigiuez...or shall I call you Mitzi? I think we're about to beoome very
close friends, so Mitzi will probably work." He took a limp arm and pulled it
high above her head, slipping it hrough a taunt coil of rope dangling from the
ceiling. "I suppose you are somewhat concerned about the paralysis. Dont worry
it fades after a few moment---hence the ropes around your waist, arms, and
your legs. Its an interesting side effect of my stun laser. One of these days
I will simply HAVE to devote some time to studying it and coming up with a
device that simply removes all muscular coordination yet lets you feel every
single touch." He the tied her other arm to the first and stepped back.
"Let me GOOOO!" she replies, as movement did INDEED begin to return to her
body, which responed with little jerks and twitches. "I dont know what you are
planning to do with me, but i am a very important and famous person. You hurt
me and you wont get away with it." She was bluffing of course. She was in fact
a famous and important person, but she was on vacation, and if she didnt turn
up for a month no one would even think to look for her. Her only hope for escape
was that she could con her way out. Promise him anything just to get out of
danger then run like hell. It had worked before when she was in tight caught
in tight situation on assignment in hostile situations. "Look, if you just let
me out of here, I am sure we can make a compromise. I can give you whatever it
is you want...anything. But not in here, not like this. C'mon, let me out of
here."
"Sorry, there is nothing you can offer me that i cant take anyway. I have
what i wanted---you, tied and helpless." He smiled.
"You evil sadistic bastard!!" she screamed in frustration. "You went to
a lot of trouble to lure me here with that phony story about knowing who John
Doe is, so I hope its all worth it! You think i am going to be a willing party
to this, you better think again! If you want me you better fucking kill me quick
because if i EVER get free i will kick yer sorry skinny black ass you hear me?
You may have me but I'll be damned if you are going to enjoy me!!" She kicked at
him weakly, her ankles tied tightly and her waist lashed to the post, it was
alomst a comical gesture. Indeed, the man burts into a gale of laughter, a sound
that caused Mitzi to shudder. The man was truly mad, she thought to herself.
Her false little bravado and anger quelled under her very real fear of what the
man might have in store for her.
"Sorry to laugh at you this way, Mitzi," he said, holding his ribs. "But
everything you said was just so ironic i couldnt stand it. You see, I dont plan
to harm you in anyway at all, and after i have a little FUN with you I will let
you go. I *DID* lie to you about John Doe though, but not like you think." He
moved to her feet and deftly removed her shoes, staring a moment at her soft
fuzzy stockinged feet. "You see, my name is NOT Sam Shephard, the man that you
saw with the headphones was. He's an old buddy of mine and i let him listen to
my walkman while i waited. You see...I am John Doe." With that, he deftly took
the edge of her stockings and ripped them off her feet, leaving her feet totally
bare and exposed. A look of true horror flashed over Mitzi as she realized what
was going to happen to her.
"I...i.i.i.i'm not ticklish...not in the least bit...so you m-m-m-might
as well just ll-l-let me go!" she said wriggling effortlessly to escape. She
wiggled her toes franticly as Jon approached her legs and kneeled smiling. He
took a pair of rubber surgical gloves from his pocket and slipped them on, then
withdrew a small plastic bottle of clear thick liquid and began smearing it all
over Mitzi's bare soles, getting plenty in between her toes. Mitzi had long
ago conditioned herself not to be ticklish, though she still feared it, and
the even though the rubber tipped fingers rubbing her soles didnt tickle very
much at all, she still squirmed.
"I know all about you, Mitzi. I know that you were tickle-tortured by your
brothers when you were younger all the time, that you went to a doctor about
it when you were in high school to see if you could be de-sensitzed against the
tickling, even the specific techniques he used to help you." He moved to her
underarms and coated them also with the clear creme, then applied some on her
breasts through her bra, letting the liquid soak through. "I did a very VERY
through background check on you in this area, Mitzi---it was no harder than
breaking into the DMV to find my other victims' residences, or cracking into
their workplaces and getting information, or their bank records, or even their
medical records. I didnt ever plan on meeting up with you to get the chance to
tickle you, you know. It was just chance that I saw and recognized you when I
did, I guess." He stood up and walks away from her a bit.
Mitzi fumed. Chance, indeed. If she hadnt been FORCED to take a vacation
and decided to fly to her parents house she would never have been caught. She
was going to get even with her bosses if she survived this night. "You are a
sick man," she said in a low voice. "What kind of twisted perverted maniac goes
looking up people's records and trailing them, capturing and tickling them?
What kind of evil bastard goes around tickling defenseless innocent women and
tickles them to the point of insanity? You have a real---"
"INNOCENT?!?!?!" Jonothan bellowed at her. Mitzi went silent. "Innocent
indeed!" Jon paced the floor back and forth a few times in obvious anger a few
moments before he spoke again. When he did, his voice was soft, gentle, almost
a whisper, so low Mitzi had to strain to hear it. "They say in this day and
time that no one is innocent, not even a little baby. You accuse me of going
after innocent women and torturing them. You call me a madman. Well, Mitzi, you
havent got a clue what this is about. You want a story for the watchers, well
here it is. This is all about revenge, pure and simple." He sighed, walking over
to sit down across from Mitzi.
"I wont go into what they each did to me. Its been taken care of, and I
dont wish to dwell on what wrongs i have suffered. Suffice it to say, they have
all been cruel or spiteful in some way or another, have hurt me and many others
like me. I carried the hurt and the emotional scars from their deeds with me
for all my life, but one day, a very bad day, i was forced to look back on my
life with CLEAR EYES and see how i had fared compared to those who had wronged
me. It made me angry. So...i decided to gain a measur of vengence on them all.
I tracked them down, one by one. And i tickled." Jon stood up and walked over
to Mitzi, looking her straight in the eyes. "You may say i am crazy, that I am
mad...perhaps I am, who knows. They say the surest sign of insanity is someone
that never doubts his sanity for a moment; well i am definitely doubtful of
mine. But that doesnt matter. You say i am sadistic. There are men out there
that when angry fight, shoot, kill their enemies. Did i hurt or maim or kill
anyone? NO. I tickled. Perhaps driving them mad was harsh to you, but if i am
a madman, then THEY drove me to this. So i say its only fiting. As for YOU,"
he said gently removing his rubber gloves and placing them in a pocket, "you
havent done anything specifically against me more than slander my name on TV,
which all the other reporters have done. So dont worry, yer not going to be
another victim of Tickle Madness. But...I do need a loyal and willing servant
in the media world, to help me stay ahead of the 'game', and to feed the media
just what i wish them to hear. That will be you."
"Fine. I'll do whatever you want me to, please, Mr. Doe. Just let me go."
Mitzi cried, beginning to panic slightly. The creme he had rubbed into her skin
was having a strange effect; it was making her skin feel about a hundred times
more sensitive! The slightest breeze from the AC unit whirring silently sent
chills up and down her spine. It seemed as if even her own blood pumping in her
veins was gently rubbing against her flesh, making her itch. "What is this
stuff you put on me...its making me itch!! Pleeeeasseeee, take it offff!" Her
feet and her armpits and her breats were starting to tingle all over.
"Think of that as a little insurance," he said softly stroking Mitzi's
left sole. She bucked furiously, as if 10,000 volts had run through her leg.
A scream of laughter ripped from her throat. "This is a little experiment I
came up with that seems to excite certain nerves in the dermis, making them
more susceptible to sensation...uh, it makes you even more ticklish." With
reckless abandon, Jon began stroking Mitzi's feet, centering on her arches a
while, then moving over to her instep, then top the balls of her feet, then
the undercurl of her toes. It made no difference where he attacked, the result
was the same: Mitzi screamed and laughed and struggled to get free.
"Nyyyhahahahhahaha...nonoonononooooo...plllleeeehehehehehehesssseeee...
staaaaajhahahahahhhhaaapppp!! I cant take ittttthahahhahahaaahohohohohhoo...
NOT MY TOES!! NO NO NNNOOOOOOOhhhhhhhahahahahhahaaahhhAAAAAHHAHAHAHAAA!!!"
Mitzi shreiked. Jonothan tickled her feet for about 10 minutes, reducing the
reporter into a sweat-soaked, gasping, giggling nymph. He knew that she was
about ready to promise him anything if he would stop the tickling, but he
needed to drive the lesson so deep into her mind that even after she was let
go, she would still follow his orders. Moving up to her waist, he began softly
stroking her underarms, sending the poor woman back into hysterics again.
"AAhhhh ahh ah ahhhhahahahhahahha...it ttttiiiiiccccklessss...hahahahahhaaa..
pleaseeeehehehehehehehhe...hahahahhahaa....ill do anyyyyyythinggghahhahaaa...
aaaaahhhahahahahha.." Music to my ears, Jon thought to himself. After another
ten minutes, he again let her rest a few moments. Breathless, and tickled half
out of her mind, Mitzi was unable to think of anything but how great it felt
not to be forced to laugh for a time.
"Now, Mitzi, my darling," Jon whispered in her ear. "I think you seem
ready to truly, HONESTLY consider what i wish you to do when you are freed. I
have studied your exploits in third-world contries in my off time, and I noted
how resourceful you are at getting out of...TICKLISH situations. I also know
you have a tendency to PROMISE something and then renig later when the pressure
is off." He emphasized this by sofly stroking her ribs, causing her to giggle
softly. "When I am through with you, I want you to remember this, to remember
how it feels to be tickled like this, to be so sensitive, so ticklish to my
touch...and whenever you think of disobeying me or betraying me, i want you to
remember this." His words echoed the subliminal words she had heard while she
was unconscious, and a smile broke across her face and laughter began to leak
from her even though she wasnt being touched. "Aahh...it seems the lesson has
not totally sunk in yet, my dear. Perhaps what you need now is some POSITVE
reinforcment of what it is like when you obey and serve me."
Jon deftly removed Mitzi's bra from her breasts, causing her to giggle
and moan as the thin silky fabric ran across her ultra-sensitive nipples. She
was surprised to find them hard and peaking, nearly throbbing, and she also
found herself extremely wet between her thighs. The nonstop tickling seemed to
have made her aroused and excited, tho she hadnt noticed until after it had
stopped. As Jonothan began caressing and tickling her breasts and her nipples,
Mitzi once again felt herself spiraling into the endless abyss of laughter, only
this time that tickling was not irratating, it was sensual, erotic, and even as
unbearable as it was, she wanted it to continue, to build in her, to bring her
off like a volcano until her hot wet juices erupted from her fevered smoking
mound. "MMMmmm....ohhhh Gaaawwwdddd...that tickles....hhehehehehe...mmmmmm...
i cant...cccaaaattt....hahahahahaha...Mmmmmmmm...shit! You are driving me
wild!! Ahhh...mmmmm...hehehehhehe...nonononono...pleeasssse stop it!! NO! NO!
DONT STOP!! DONT STOP!! hahhahhaaaaaaammmmmmmmmmmmmohhohohohohoooohhh...." she
cried as he skillfuly played her like a fiddle. For the next two hours, Jon kept
Mitzi right on the edge, asking her, demanding her loyalty, and then pulling
her back down by tickling her feet or underarms, or worse, by NOT tickling her
at all for a few minutes. Mitzi was frantic. She didnt care what he wanted her
to do, she would do it, kill for him, die for him, anything if he would just
let her cum. Finally, she cried out, tears running down her cheeks, "Please,
pleaaaasee, let me cum...I'll do anything, anything...please MASTER please!"
At which, he began stroking and caressing her nipples in earnest, moving a
hand dently between her thighs, caressing and stroking her hot wet flesh. She
bucked hard againt his hands, striving to make contact on her throbbing clit,
a contact that would ignite the powderkeg she needed for release. Jonothan
pinched her love bump between his thumb and forefineger as he licked and sucked
on her left nipple, and Mitzi lost it, tumbling headfirst into bliss and soft
cremey ecstacy. Her moans and sighs increased as Jonothan moved down the
length of her body untying her feet and grabbing one starting softly tickling
her bare sole, causing it to wiggle and flex as she came again and again, the
tickling mixing with the pleasure he was giving her clit. Mitzi was out of it,
totally swept away in the sensations, he mind ceasing to function as her body
responded to the long awaited sexual release, giving her orgasm after orgasm.
Then Jonothan placed her wiggling curling toes into his mouth and began to suck
and lick and tickle them in his mouth as he inserted three fingers deep into
her hot snatch, and Mitzi let out a bloodcurling scream and slumped over, out
cold.
Panting and breathing heavily, Jonothan made it unsteadly to his feet,
gently rubbed the growing wet spot at his crotch, and placed the walkman back
over Mitzi's ears. He then began to untie her hands and feet, leaving her tied
at the wasist to hold her up. With a smile, he walked to the door, glancing
back at her one last time. When she awoke, she would remember little of her
experience, except that she had been captured by John Doe, and had somehow
managed to escape being tickled to insanity. Deep in her subconscious, she
would be loyal to him, would seek him out to give her pleasure as she had just
experienced, would support and defend him in front of the cameras, and would
lust after him in her dreams at night. As always, she would not be able to
describe him, if she were asked about it, or even be able to pick him out of
a line-up, but would instantly know who he was when she heard his voice next
time. Snatching the walkman back, he left the room, and hurried to catch his
flight back home.

<end part 1.

...Diabolically-brilliant! Looking forward to seeing the rest of the deserving receive righteous maniacal punishment!

very nice!!!

OMFG!!!! That was freakin awesome. I mean every single aspect. I NEED part 2!

Like uncovering the resting place of Atlantis!
Big well done to finding this old school classic story.
Part 2 surely!

I can't wait for his former boss......

The dean of science needs to be tickled the worst of all!!!

I posted part 2 as well.... let me go find it.

OK bumped it up to show up on the first page.... I forever was trying to find this story.... found it through more Google research... next one to find.... F/F story of two ranch hands ... just as devious....think it was called Ranchers Revenge... first saw it on a BBS in the early 90s.