jfoottickler
TMF Poster
- Joined
- Jun 19, 2005
- Messages
- 75
- Points
- 6
I know many of you have been waiting for this...I've decided to end the series, so I can please the fans with some conclusion. I hope you enjoy!
The bruised hand of what appears to be a crippled, deranged old man turns on a television set. The TV, which somehow still gets a reception with a "bunny rabbit" antenna, is barely audible. The speakers are nearly blown out, but loud enough to hear this voice over:
"All around the country, celebrities have putting away the open-toed shoes" says the man.
"Numerous female celebrities have reported to being abducted, tied, and tickled on their bare feet for information by a man known as Don Turtelli."
Fuzzy, but still viewable, the program shows an image of Don, with his trademark white feather in his left hand, and a sinister smile on his face.
"Turtelli has traveled around the country, tickling the tootsies of various starlets, until he traded in his feather for a knife. Turtelli's tickling rampage began in the late '80's, when a Channel Six reporter named April O'Neill was kidnapped and tortured. Now, Turtelli, who has been missing since last fall, left a trail of cold blood after his last appearance in Alaska. An attempted tickle session with former governor Sarah Palin seen Turtelli leave three police officers dead at the scene, and many celebrities fearful of not only an intense foot tickling, but for their lives.
Now, with the help of her team of experts, "True Crime" author Aphrodite Jones seeks the truth about Turtelli and his quench for both laughter, and murder".
BAM!!!!
The TV is shoved from a dilapidated stand, and sent crashing to the ground, shattering into pieces.
"You want a story...I'll give you a story"
Don Turtelli was starved and dirty. He hadn't shaved in months, and appeared as if he only bathed in dirty water. What remained of his teeth were not yellow, but brown. His suit replaced with a 5XL AC/DC shirt that served double duty as covering his genitals. Sure, Turtelli had been stripped of riches, but he still had his essentials: a feather, and the knowledge of how to properly use one on the most sensitive, or most stubborn, pair of feet.
"Listen Turtelli, you're never gonna get away with this!" said a woman's voice.
"Really, you really feel dat way?" asked Turtelli, shining a bright lamp, the only light in the room, on his victim.
"I've encountered crooks, rapists, and murderers A MILLION times worse than you!" yelled Aphrodite Jones, who was held captive in Turtelli's shack!
"Heh, funny. Why would you choose to do a story about me? Did you and your producers think it would get ya ratings, did ya!?! Well, I have some footage for you to take back to your TV crew!" yelled Turtelli.
Strolling over to a camera left behind by the now slain production crew, Turtelli fiddled with the technology.
"How do ya work these things, anyways?" he questioned.
Jones tried to escape, writhing in her chair and trying to stretch her strapped body parts. Her waist was wrapped with rope, tied to a cold, steel chair that seemed to be bolted to the floor. The rope chafed her belly, which was exposed underneath her white button up. Her wrists were tied behind her back, and her right leg extended so that her ankle was bound to a metal structure. All she could feel was the cold air in the room on the skin that separated her black dress pants from the red pump on her foot.
"Here we are..." said Turtelli, hitting the record button.
"Look, this is ridiculous! You've dug yourself into an even bigger hole than you already were in!"
"No I haven't!!! You see, Ms. Jones, or can I call you Aphrodite? The only hole being dug around here is for you. You either cancel me out of your little TV program, or I give them a ratings bonanza...I'll kill you right now, and send the tape to the producers" he said.
Jones gulped. She started to tear up, getting puffy eyes.
"Oh, there's no need to cry" said Don.
"Please, just let me go..." pleaded Aphrodite.
"Aphrodite, I think you're a little confused with my method of killing lovely, young women such as ya self. You see, those were MEN I killed with my knife. You, Aprhodite, I will kill with laughter" said Turtelli.
Aphrodite Jones knew what was next. Turtelli removed the pump from her right foot, revealing her long, slender bare foot. The bottom of her pants clothed her heel a bit, while her seemingly boundless toes were free for the taking.
"I'll give you another opportunity to scrap your story" said Turtelli. Aphrodite remained silent, fearing the worst no matter her response. She was trapped.
"Ok lady, you had your chance. Now, PAY the PENALTY!" yelled Turtelli as he grazed soft, white feather irrepressibly on Aprhodite's sole.
"Gimme the answer I want, and I'll relinquish your agony!"
Aphrodite shrieked, letting out a fit of giggles. Of all the mischief she encountered during her career, she never thought she would be tied and tickled on her bare foot.
Turtelli stroked the feather up and down, up and down, up and down. Aphrodite laughed like a hyena.
"Please, stop this! Cut it out!!!" she cried.
"It tickles! It tickles!" she yelled.
Turtelli waved the feather in circles, starting fast before getting lackadaisical. He knew slow and steady won the race, so he applied this to his art of tickling. He began at the ball of her foot, right beneath her toes, dragging the cushy feather along her arch to the heel. After a flipping the feather over, scratching her heel with the quill, he went back to procession up to the ball.
"Oh my god!!!" she shouted.
"This is torture! Tehehehe! Absolute torture!" she added.
Turtelli seen and heard the jerks and shrieks the quill got when scrubbed on her heel.
"Cancel your program, or I will make this even more torturous!" he threatened.
"How so?" said Aphrodite, gasping for air.
Turtelli answered the question with a stroke of the quill down her sole. Not allowing any time for an answer, he tickled her arch, sending a sensation through Aphrodite's nerves that gave her a hysterical reaction.
Aphrodite shrieked with laughter! This wasn't just a chuckle, but a full blown laughathon.
"I can't handle this!" she screamed.
"Stop tickling my feet!" she begged.
Turtelli ran the quill to and fro. He wrapped his gnarly hands around her toes and scruffed the quill along her Hallux. She tried wiggling free, but she was no match for an expert toe tickler.
Her toes were left natural, but she still took care of her feet. At least enough to leave them smooth and sensitive to the feather.
Turtelli scraped the quill along the tips of her toes, then turned the feather around and swept it between her slender digits. Aphrodite succeeded at capturing the feather a few times, so Turtelli returned to brushing her soles.
"You're right, I'm going to die laughing!" she proclaimed.
"This tickles SOOO bad!" she laughed.
As Turtelli brushed her foot with the feather, a familiar voice rang through his ears.
"Cut!" shouted the voice. Turtelli heard the camera's power button click to the off position.
Turtelli turned his head, and could vaguely see in the dim light.
"Oh...." he proclaimed.
"My Grandmother's Necklace!!!" he shouted, darting across the room. The owner of the necklace pushed forward, as Turtelli fell to the dirty floor at her sight.
"See something familiar?" asked April O'Neill, who dangled the necklace from her hand.
END OF PART 1.
The bruised hand of what appears to be a crippled, deranged old man turns on a television set. The TV, which somehow still gets a reception with a "bunny rabbit" antenna, is barely audible. The speakers are nearly blown out, but loud enough to hear this voice over:
"All around the country, celebrities have putting away the open-toed shoes" says the man.
"Numerous female celebrities have reported to being abducted, tied, and tickled on their bare feet for information by a man known as Don Turtelli."
Fuzzy, but still viewable, the program shows an image of Don, with his trademark white feather in his left hand, and a sinister smile on his face.
"Turtelli has traveled around the country, tickling the tootsies of various starlets, until he traded in his feather for a knife. Turtelli's tickling rampage began in the late '80's, when a Channel Six reporter named April O'Neill was kidnapped and tortured. Now, Turtelli, who has been missing since last fall, left a trail of cold blood after his last appearance in Alaska. An attempted tickle session with former governor Sarah Palin seen Turtelli leave three police officers dead at the scene, and many celebrities fearful of not only an intense foot tickling, but for their lives.
Now, with the help of her team of experts, "True Crime" author Aphrodite Jones seeks the truth about Turtelli and his quench for both laughter, and murder".
BAM!!!!
The TV is shoved from a dilapidated stand, and sent crashing to the ground, shattering into pieces.
"You want a story...I'll give you a story"
Don Turtelli was starved and dirty. He hadn't shaved in months, and appeared as if he only bathed in dirty water. What remained of his teeth were not yellow, but brown. His suit replaced with a 5XL AC/DC shirt that served double duty as covering his genitals. Sure, Turtelli had been stripped of riches, but he still had his essentials: a feather, and the knowledge of how to properly use one on the most sensitive, or most stubborn, pair of feet.
"Listen Turtelli, you're never gonna get away with this!" said a woman's voice.
"Really, you really feel dat way?" asked Turtelli, shining a bright lamp, the only light in the room, on his victim.
"I've encountered crooks, rapists, and murderers A MILLION times worse than you!" yelled Aphrodite Jones, who was held captive in Turtelli's shack!
"Heh, funny. Why would you choose to do a story about me? Did you and your producers think it would get ya ratings, did ya!?! Well, I have some footage for you to take back to your TV crew!" yelled Turtelli.
Strolling over to a camera left behind by the now slain production crew, Turtelli fiddled with the technology.
"How do ya work these things, anyways?" he questioned.
Jones tried to escape, writhing in her chair and trying to stretch her strapped body parts. Her waist was wrapped with rope, tied to a cold, steel chair that seemed to be bolted to the floor. The rope chafed her belly, which was exposed underneath her white button up. Her wrists were tied behind her back, and her right leg extended so that her ankle was bound to a metal structure. All she could feel was the cold air in the room on the skin that separated her black dress pants from the red pump on her foot.
"Here we are..." said Turtelli, hitting the record button.
"Look, this is ridiculous! You've dug yourself into an even bigger hole than you already were in!"
"No I haven't!!! You see, Ms. Jones, or can I call you Aphrodite? The only hole being dug around here is for you. You either cancel me out of your little TV program, or I give them a ratings bonanza...I'll kill you right now, and send the tape to the producers" he said.
Jones gulped. She started to tear up, getting puffy eyes.
"Oh, there's no need to cry" said Don.
"Please, just let me go..." pleaded Aphrodite.
"Aphrodite, I think you're a little confused with my method of killing lovely, young women such as ya self. You see, those were MEN I killed with my knife. You, Aprhodite, I will kill with laughter" said Turtelli.
Aphrodite Jones knew what was next. Turtelli removed the pump from her right foot, revealing her long, slender bare foot. The bottom of her pants clothed her heel a bit, while her seemingly boundless toes were free for the taking.
"I'll give you another opportunity to scrap your story" said Turtelli. Aphrodite remained silent, fearing the worst no matter her response. She was trapped.
"Ok lady, you had your chance. Now, PAY the PENALTY!" yelled Turtelli as he grazed soft, white feather irrepressibly on Aprhodite's sole.
"Gimme the answer I want, and I'll relinquish your agony!"
Aphrodite shrieked, letting out a fit of giggles. Of all the mischief she encountered during her career, she never thought she would be tied and tickled on her bare foot.
Turtelli stroked the feather up and down, up and down, up and down. Aphrodite laughed like a hyena.
"Please, stop this! Cut it out!!!" she cried.
"It tickles! It tickles!" she yelled.
Turtelli waved the feather in circles, starting fast before getting lackadaisical. He knew slow and steady won the race, so he applied this to his art of tickling. He began at the ball of her foot, right beneath her toes, dragging the cushy feather along her arch to the heel. After a flipping the feather over, scratching her heel with the quill, he went back to procession up to the ball.
"Oh my god!!!" she shouted.
"This is torture! Tehehehe! Absolute torture!" she added.
Turtelli seen and heard the jerks and shrieks the quill got when scrubbed on her heel.
"Cancel your program, or I will make this even more torturous!" he threatened.
"How so?" said Aphrodite, gasping for air.
Turtelli answered the question with a stroke of the quill down her sole. Not allowing any time for an answer, he tickled her arch, sending a sensation through Aphrodite's nerves that gave her a hysterical reaction.
Aphrodite shrieked with laughter! This wasn't just a chuckle, but a full blown laughathon.
"I can't handle this!" she screamed.
"Stop tickling my feet!" she begged.
Turtelli ran the quill to and fro. He wrapped his gnarly hands around her toes and scruffed the quill along her Hallux. She tried wiggling free, but she was no match for an expert toe tickler.
Her toes were left natural, but she still took care of her feet. At least enough to leave them smooth and sensitive to the feather.
Turtelli scraped the quill along the tips of her toes, then turned the feather around and swept it between her slender digits. Aphrodite succeeded at capturing the feather a few times, so Turtelli returned to brushing her soles.
"You're right, I'm going to die laughing!" she proclaimed.
"This tickles SOOO bad!" she laughed.
As Turtelli brushed her foot with the feather, a familiar voice rang through his ears.
"Cut!" shouted the voice. Turtelli heard the camera's power button click to the off position.
Turtelli turned his head, and could vaguely see in the dim light.
"Oh...." he proclaimed.
"My Grandmother's Necklace!!!" he shouted, darting across the room. The owner of the necklace pushed forward, as Turtelli fell to the dirty floor at her sight.
"See something familiar?" asked April O'Neill, who dangled the necklace from her hand.
END OF PART 1.
Last edited:
