The Track
A/N: This is a short story I wrote to go along with an illustration based on a dream I had. I've added it to the post, it helps understand the tickle devices a bit.
--
His hand is on my shoulder as we near the tunnel, and as always the alien structure is wide and gaping and already overwhelming my senses.
“The track is longer today.” He says, and already I’m shivering in anticipation. At the starting pad he strips me, and if I concentrate I can hear the muffled cheers of the crowd past the thick, thick walls of the tunnel. The tickling track. The torture tube.
He pulls away my bra and panties and leaves me with nothing but the goosebumps on my skin, smiling a little as he runs his fingertips down to my hips. I wiggle, stifling a giggle, trying to be good.
“You’ll win for me today, won’t you?” He asks, and I close my eyes and nod. When I swallow I can feel it click, can feel it like the weight of the responsibility on my shoulders. Past the thick walls of the tube are a jeering crowd, eager to see my performance against the other players- and among them are my Investors. There’s a lot of money riding with me, counting on me, and the last time I’d disappointed my benefactors was much worse than any race I’d ever encountered.
Even as I think this, my hands are being cuffed into the heavy weighted mech-manacles, their engines rumbling to life and hovering until my wrists are hoisted tight above my head. I dangle until my feet can be fixed into the dock boots, feeling my knees confined at the knees, but knowing full well that my feet are bare and exposed under the metal track pad. My legs are spread- wide- and I tremble as I try not to think of the -why- behind it, but it’s inevitable.
Slowly, slowly, the track snakes down from the abyss like end of the tunnel, sliding between my legs and attaching its metal claws to the start line. I close my eyes tight, and my handler starts to- well- handle.
“Preliminary racing check.” He says into his headset, and I squirm just a tiny bit. Enough that I can still hope he won’t see as he walks over with his lime green feather and starts to stroke it over my skin.
“Nh-h-ha-” I can’t keep my sounds to myself as he goes through all the bad places. Along my under arms, up and down my hips, my sides, my breasts, and then worst of all- “Eeee! Nah-nh-please-” my pussy and my ass. He hums, seemingly worried about my sensitivity, then dismisses it before snapping his fingers.
The machine whorls to life and suddenly my feet are being tickled from below, thousands of hyper feathers sneaking over my soles, up and down my arch, sawing between my toes. I try not to go insane- somehow I manage.
“Ready. On mark.” Says my Handler, and he looks up at me, scrutinizing, before running a hand through my hair. Making me look mussed and vulnerable. “The crowd is going to eat you up. Just don’t pass out.”
He kisses my cheek a quick and illegal act of luck and tradition between us, and before I can protest, I hear the sound of the count down. When the cameras start the crowd will be able to see everything going on in the tube, even though I won’t be able to see them. I close my eyes and a crackle of static in my ear tells me that I have a special sponsor today.
He’s not a heavy breather, thank god.
“I know it’s rather dangerous for you, but I don’t want you to win today.” Says my sponsor, and his voice is like silk. It’s nothing like I’ve heard before, and there are chills running down my body. “I want you to come. I’m sorry, but I’m not going to make it very easy for you. Your contestants will hit the finish without coming ages after you’ve groaned and sobbed your way to failure with me.”
Oh god. I whimper and squirm a little, and I hardly notice that the count down has begun.
“3…2..” Purrs the voice in my ear, and I feel a tear slide down my cheek. “1.”
Beside me I see women and men bound just like me to their metal pads, all streaking down the track. It’s begun. Waves of my competitors hysterical laughter hit me, echoing through the tickle torture tunnel. Projected around us are various neon displays, showing our most ticklish spots, our exhaustion, our arousal, and our closeness to orgasm. With this, the crowd can see how close we are to coming- and losing- to the track.
“Coochie coochie coo-” My sponsor drawls into my ear, and I squeal as the hyper- feathers below my pad start to work over my feet in response to his voice. He likes to drive the feathers to saw between my toes and it makes me gasp with hiccups of hilarity, thrashing and tugging at the tight bonds around my knees. ”Gitchy gitchy gitchy-“
The taunting makes it worse when the tickle cups come, suctioning to my nipples and vibrating enough to make me shriek in protest. His voice turns up in my ears to drown out my own babbling.
“Such a ticklish girl- she’ll never win- far too precious- far far too ticklish-“
As the tickle cups start to suck in time with his voice and the hyper feathers tracing delicate figure eights across my arches, I’m lost in hysterics that threaten to break me. I can feel each slick taunt going right to the pit of my stomach, making me squirm and giggle and moan- slicking myself wet.
“Does it tickle?” He whispers. “What about your hips? Are those a tickly-ticklish place?”
I whimper in fear and he laughs, low and pleased as hyper feathers on their own long snake like metal tendrils begin to trace the bowls of my hips. These feathers are stiff and glowing a bright neon red, tracing ticklish words of torment that flash on my skin when they finish. Soon my rocking hips are bright with “tick-le tick-le tick-les” and I’m sobbing and humping at the air.
“Frustrated? We’re not even close to winning darling. Your arousal bar is shamefully peaked, and I’m afraid I can’t resist it.”
“Oh no-” I try not to let more tears slide down my cheeks and over my grinning lips, but it’s impossible. “Please don’t-” My words don’t mean anything, he’s already pressed the button and the machinery is spreading my legs farther apart. Soft alien appendages flex and extend from the track between my legs and soon I can feel the lips of my pussy being gently spread. “N-no, oh god- It’lltickle-“
His laugh is less cruel and more amused and pleased, and it goes right to where I’m being held most vulnerable.
“I’ve heard how ticklish this spot is. Heard what a hot little mess you become when you’re tickled all over your pretty pussy.” His purr curls into the heart of me, just in time for the hyper feathers to burn to life between my legs. Bright blue and waving, they start to run along the track and through my legs, sliding feather after feather up and along my slit. Teasing and tickling my exposed lips, lightly fluttering along the sensitive pink insides. “I’ve paid quite a lot to make you come.”
“Neehee! No! Nohoho- not there- please- ohplease!” I can’t breathe, it tickles too much- and then there are feathers sneaking up as the track curves- feathers sliding through my pussy and then teasing in an endless line up my perineum, teasing and niggling at my asshole. “Eeee- ahah-*ha*-“
“Does it tickle tickle tickle?” He taunts, and I’m rocketed into laughter beyond what my vocal chords can produce. Silently thrashing, tears sliding down my collar bone and trickling over my breasts. “Poor ticklish pussy- so wet- Should I be meaner?”
Before I can stop myself I’m moaning, because the extensions spreading me are gently spreading just a tiny bit more. Tiny electric yellow feathers move to start circling my mound, then trace ticklish circles around and around the soft lips of my pussy.
“Nhm. Ohhhh..” My hips bump forward and I giggle helplessly between moans because the track of main blue feathers is still torturing my perineum. Slowly but surely, my clit is teased from hiding. “Ah-hah-mmm-“
“Shall I tickle your clit?” My sponsor teases, and I sob.
“No? Here then?” Hips. “Tickles here?” My arches and toes. “Kitchy kitchy coos all over here?” The spot between my outer lips and inner pink pussy that makes me -squeal- .
“No!!”
“Where then?” He asks, so quiet and smug as the make me hiss in frustration.
“My clit!” I cry, and suddenly my plea is answered. The hyper feathers angle and flicker to a vibrant hue of neon rainbow, streaking through my legs, each quill positioned to flick and tease over my exposed clit.
It tickles me past euphoria and to the edge of orgasm, and I know I’m going to lose. I’ll come before everyone else and the punishment will be unimaginable-
“Pleaseplease!” I gasp, begging for- I don’t know what. Salvation? Release?
Suddenly, I hear a metal click and my body sways. The feathers have stopped, hovering just inches from my clit, wiggling and teasing the air. “Onh- nhh- aah- “
I want to cry, want to scream-
“You won.” My Sponsor purrs, and I see myself on screen. Arched and sweaty, gasping and curved to try and get my pussy within reach of the tiny ticklish feathers and long sought orgasm. My Handler approaches me, and it takes me just as long to realize that the voice teasing me during the race is matching his lips as it does to take in the golden glowing feather between his fingers.
Slowly, he slides the feather between my cheeks, then starts to draw it between them, sliding it between my lips and pulling it slowly through my pussy. Each tendril of the feather tickles beyond belief, teasing my clit before escaping me wet and used.
“Come for me.” He says, and the tip of the feather teases past my clit fast- enough to make me orgasm so blindingly that my toes curl and I threaten the machines keeping my wrists aloft.
When I’m finished arching and moaning his name the track releases me and I fall into his arms. He smiles, kissing the corner of my lips, and I know that the reward awaiting me at our compound will be much greater than the golden feather could ever give me.
A/N: This is a short story I wrote to go along with an illustration based on a dream I had. I've added it to the post, it helps understand the tickle devices a bit.
--
His hand is on my shoulder as we near the tunnel, and as always the alien structure is wide and gaping and already overwhelming my senses.
“The track is longer today.” He says, and already I’m shivering in anticipation. At the starting pad he strips me, and if I concentrate I can hear the muffled cheers of the crowd past the thick, thick walls of the tunnel. The tickling track. The torture tube.
He pulls away my bra and panties and leaves me with nothing but the goosebumps on my skin, smiling a little as he runs his fingertips down to my hips. I wiggle, stifling a giggle, trying to be good.
“You’ll win for me today, won’t you?” He asks, and I close my eyes and nod. When I swallow I can feel it click, can feel it like the weight of the responsibility on my shoulders. Past the thick walls of the tube are a jeering crowd, eager to see my performance against the other players- and among them are my Investors. There’s a lot of money riding with me, counting on me, and the last time I’d disappointed my benefactors was much worse than any race I’d ever encountered.
Even as I think this, my hands are being cuffed into the heavy weighted mech-manacles, their engines rumbling to life and hovering until my wrists are hoisted tight above my head. I dangle until my feet can be fixed into the dock boots, feeling my knees confined at the knees, but knowing full well that my feet are bare and exposed under the metal track pad. My legs are spread- wide- and I tremble as I try not to think of the -why- behind it, but it’s inevitable.
Slowly, slowly, the track snakes down from the abyss like end of the tunnel, sliding between my legs and attaching its metal claws to the start line. I close my eyes tight, and my handler starts to- well- handle.
“Preliminary racing check.” He says into his headset, and I squirm just a tiny bit. Enough that I can still hope he won’t see as he walks over with his lime green feather and starts to stroke it over my skin.
“Nh-h-ha-” I can’t keep my sounds to myself as he goes through all the bad places. Along my under arms, up and down my hips, my sides, my breasts, and then worst of all- “Eeee! Nah-nh-please-” my pussy and my ass. He hums, seemingly worried about my sensitivity, then dismisses it before snapping his fingers.
The machine whorls to life and suddenly my feet are being tickled from below, thousands of hyper feathers sneaking over my soles, up and down my arch, sawing between my toes. I try not to go insane- somehow I manage.
“Ready. On mark.” Says my Handler, and he looks up at me, scrutinizing, before running a hand through my hair. Making me look mussed and vulnerable. “The crowd is going to eat you up. Just don’t pass out.”
He kisses my cheek a quick and illegal act of luck and tradition between us, and before I can protest, I hear the sound of the count down. When the cameras start the crowd will be able to see everything going on in the tube, even though I won’t be able to see them. I close my eyes and a crackle of static in my ear tells me that I have a special sponsor today.
He’s not a heavy breather, thank god.
“I know it’s rather dangerous for you, but I don’t want you to win today.” Says my sponsor, and his voice is like silk. It’s nothing like I’ve heard before, and there are chills running down my body. “I want you to come. I’m sorry, but I’m not going to make it very easy for you. Your contestants will hit the finish without coming ages after you’ve groaned and sobbed your way to failure with me.”
Oh god. I whimper and squirm a little, and I hardly notice that the count down has begun.
“3…2..” Purrs the voice in my ear, and I feel a tear slide down my cheek. “1.”
Beside me I see women and men bound just like me to their metal pads, all streaking down the track. It’s begun. Waves of my competitors hysterical laughter hit me, echoing through the tickle torture tunnel. Projected around us are various neon displays, showing our most ticklish spots, our exhaustion, our arousal, and our closeness to orgasm. With this, the crowd can see how close we are to coming- and losing- to the track.
“Coochie coochie coo-” My sponsor drawls into my ear, and I squeal as the hyper- feathers below my pad start to work over my feet in response to his voice. He likes to drive the feathers to saw between my toes and it makes me gasp with hiccups of hilarity, thrashing and tugging at the tight bonds around my knees. ”Gitchy gitchy gitchy-“
The taunting makes it worse when the tickle cups come, suctioning to my nipples and vibrating enough to make me shriek in protest. His voice turns up in my ears to drown out my own babbling.
“Such a ticklish girl- she’ll never win- far too precious- far far too ticklish-“
As the tickle cups start to suck in time with his voice and the hyper feathers tracing delicate figure eights across my arches, I’m lost in hysterics that threaten to break me. I can feel each slick taunt going right to the pit of my stomach, making me squirm and giggle and moan- slicking myself wet.
“Does it tickle?” He whispers. “What about your hips? Are those a tickly-ticklish place?”
I whimper in fear and he laughs, low and pleased as hyper feathers on their own long snake like metal tendrils begin to trace the bowls of my hips. These feathers are stiff and glowing a bright neon red, tracing ticklish words of torment that flash on my skin when they finish. Soon my rocking hips are bright with “tick-le tick-le tick-les” and I’m sobbing and humping at the air.
“Frustrated? We’re not even close to winning darling. Your arousal bar is shamefully peaked, and I’m afraid I can’t resist it.”
“Oh no-” I try not to let more tears slide down my cheeks and over my grinning lips, but it’s impossible. “Please don’t-” My words don’t mean anything, he’s already pressed the button and the machinery is spreading my legs farther apart. Soft alien appendages flex and extend from the track between my legs and soon I can feel the lips of my pussy being gently spread. “N-no, oh god- It’lltickle-“
His laugh is less cruel and more amused and pleased, and it goes right to where I’m being held most vulnerable.
“I’ve heard how ticklish this spot is. Heard what a hot little mess you become when you’re tickled all over your pretty pussy.” His purr curls into the heart of me, just in time for the hyper feathers to burn to life between my legs. Bright blue and waving, they start to run along the track and through my legs, sliding feather after feather up and along my slit. Teasing and tickling my exposed lips, lightly fluttering along the sensitive pink insides. “I’ve paid quite a lot to make you come.”
“Neehee! No! Nohoho- not there- please- ohplease!” I can’t breathe, it tickles too much- and then there are feathers sneaking up as the track curves- feathers sliding through my pussy and then teasing in an endless line up my perineum, teasing and niggling at my asshole. “Eeee- ahah-*ha*-“
“Does it tickle tickle tickle?” He taunts, and I’m rocketed into laughter beyond what my vocal chords can produce. Silently thrashing, tears sliding down my collar bone and trickling over my breasts. “Poor ticklish pussy- so wet- Should I be meaner?”
Before I can stop myself I’m moaning, because the extensions spreading me are gently spreading just a tiny bit more. Tiny electric yellow feathers move to start circling my mound, then trace ticklish circles around and around the soft lips of my pussy.
“Nhm. Ohhhh..” My hips bump forward and I giggle helplessly between moans because the track of main blue feathers is still torturing my perineum. Slowly but surely, my clit is teased from hiding. “Ah-hah-mmm-“
“Shall I tickle your clit?” My sponsor teases, and I sob.
“No? Here then?” Hips. “Tickles here?” My arches and toes. “Kitchy kitchy coos all over here?” The spot between my outer lips and inner pink pussy that makes me -squeal- .
“No!!”
“Where then?” He asks, so quiet and smug as the make me hiss in frustration.
“My clit!” I cry, and suddenly my plea is answered. The hyper feathers angle and flicker to a vibrant hue of neon rainbow, streaking through my legs, each quill positioned to flick and tease over my exposed clit.
It tickles me past euphoria and to the edge of orgasm, and I know I’m going to lose. I’ll come before everyone else and the punishment will be unimaginable-
“Pleaseplease!” I gasp, begging for- I don’t know what. Salvation? Release?
Suddenly, I hear a metal click and my body sways. The feathers have stopped, hovering just inches from my clit, wiggling and teasing the air. “Onh- nhh- aah- “
I want to cry, want to scream-
“You won.” My Sponsor purrs, and I see myself on screen. Arched and sweaty, gasping and curved to try and get my pussy within reach of the tiny ticklish feathers and long sought orgasm. My Handler approaches me, and it takes me just as long to realize that the voice teasing me during the race is matching his lips as it does to take in the golden glowing feather between his fingers.
Slowly, he slides the feather between my cheeks, then starts to draw it between them, sliding it between my lips and pulling it slowly through my pussy. Each tendril of the feather tickles beyond belief, teasing my clit before escaping me wet and used.
“Come for me.” He says, and the tip of the feather teases past my clit fast- enough to make me orgasm so blindingly that my toes curl and I threaten the machines keeping my wrists aloft.
When I’m finished arching and moaning his name the track releases me and I fall into his arms. He smiles, kissing the corner of my lips, and I know that the reward awaiting me at our compound will be much greater than the golden feather could ever give me.
