clean_kitchen
TMF Poster
- Joined
- Aug 14, 2002
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This one is based on a suggestion/request by Jets28.
* * *
SORORITY VANDALISM
That. Is. It.
Buying a house near the university seemed like a good idea. Sherri worked as an administrator in the graduate school, so it was an easy walk to work. And the price was almost too good to pass up. She and her husband Damon had dismissed questions from their friends about living so close to the university and its sorority houses, but the problems were getting to be too much.
It wasn't just the partying, though that got real old at times. But the occasional property damage was becoming frequent property damage, and recently some of their property had gone missing. The items stolen were nothing of real monetary value --- lawn ornaments and trinkets, really --- but it was the principle of thing. Enough was enough.
Early one Saturday morning, after a particularly raucous Friday night, Sherri woke to notice a bare circle in the lawn where one of her favorite planters had been the evening before.
"Really? A planter?" Sherri said aloud to nobody. She fumed as she finished her coffee, and decided to see if she could find the idiot(s) responsible. Her plan was to take a walk through the neighborhood to see if the culprits had been stupid enough (or drunk enough) to leave it in plain sight. The shorts and t-shirt she had on would be sufficient for a warm spring morning, so she slid on her sandals and headed out.
It was a brief search. Sherri was barely out of her driveway when she saw her planter, intact with flowers and all, sitting in the middle of a covered porch at the sorority house next door. And not just her planter, but a rake, a wind chime, three solar-powered landscaping lights, one of her children's tricycles that had all disappeared from her house over the past week. They were all sitting in a neat pile , as if on display.
Sherri considered grabbing the stuff and taking it back home, but she was too mad to leave it at that. A cooler head might have taken a picture of the items on the porch and then filed a complaint with the campus or city police. Sherri's was not a cooler head. These brats needed to know what she thought about them and their childish antics. All the frustrations of the past several months culminated in Sherri knocking on the front door.
To Sherri's surprise, the front door opened slightly when she knocked. Adrenaline had removed all the fear (and manners) from Sherri, so she boldly stepped inside. The front door opened into a living room space with a battered couch, several mismatched recliners and a TV way too nice for the rest of the decor. She could see through a door directly ahead of her into what she guessed was the kitchen. A wooden stairway to her left led to the upper floor.
"Hello?" She called.
Immediately, a girl appeared in the kitchen door. She wore a t-shirt and pajama pants, and had clearly just gotten out of bed.
"Who the hell are you?" the girl asked, clearly as annoyed as she was alarmed.
"That my stuff on your porch, that's who the hell I am," Sherri shot back, somewhat clumsily. She was angry, but didn't have much experience with this sort of verbal confrontation.
"Really?" the girl said slowly, with more than a little sarcasm. Sherri saw a devious glimmer in the girl's eye rather than the surprise or defiance she expected.
Before Sherri could make sense of the girl's behavior, she saw a flash in her peripheral vision. A second girl had come down the stairs, grabbed Sherri and wrestled her to the middle of the living room floor. The girl from the kitchen quickly joined her sister in pinning the older woman to the ground. In less than five seconds, the two girls had Sherri on her back with a girl holding her on either side. Each girl laid on her side, using one arm to secure one of Sherri's arms above her head, and wrapping both legs around one of Sherri's, leaving the intruder all but immobile. Sherri struggled, but was no match for the two college-aged women.
Sherri, of course, screamed and protested, but was completely unprepared for such a ridiculous situation.
"Hey! What are you do-AHHHHHHH! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Without a word, both girls used their free hand to squeeze up and down Sherri's sides, from her hips to under her arms and back. Sherri's eyes shot wide with disbelief, and her protests instantly turned to desperate pleas. She wailed as the girls tickled her.
"AHHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NO! PLEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! STOP! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Sherri bucked wildly, but the girls' grip was too strong. Their fingers walked up and down her ribs, squeezed her hips and poked at her underarms. They continued without a word for several minutes before giving Sherri a breathless, gasping break.
Sherri used the pause to plead with the girls. She scrambled with her now tickle-exhausted brain to make sense of the bizarre situation. It didn't take any thought, though to know she couldn't handle getting tickled, and all she wanted in the world in that moment was to be out of that house.
"Please ... stop ... you gotta stop ... no more. Let me go!"
"That's your stuff on the porch?" one of the girls asked again.
"Yes ... I just wanted ..."
The girls started wriggling their fingers and lowering them back toward Sherri's body.
"No ... please don't tickle please don't tickle please don't AHHHHHHHAHAHAHAHA!"
Sherri was once again lost in ticklish sensations overwhelming every other though or desire. All she could feel was the tickling, and all she wanted was for it to stop.
The girls switched from harder tickling to a lighter touch, using their nails to drive Sherri crazy. The girl on Sherri's left focused on her leg, tickling all over and around Sherri's thigh, causing Sherri to twist and buck in a useless attempt to free herself. The second girl slid her hand under Sherri's shirt and scribbled her nails up and down Sherri's outstretched side. Sherri shrieked wildly at the new sensations and then settled into a steam of cackling laughter. Pleas for mercy exited her mouth as incoherent hysterical babbling between uncontrollable bursts of laughter as the girls found particularly sensitive spots. Again, the girls stopped after several minutes.
"Please ... please ... let me go ... please ... I just wanted my stuff back ..."
"Wanted it back?" the first girl said in disbelief. "Why would we give it back?"
"Please ... it's mine .. you stole it ..."
"Stole it?! Are you kidding me?" The girl said, genuinely angry now. She nodded to her friend, who pulled Sherri's shirt up over and behind her head, leaving her upper body bare except for her bra.
"Oh no! No! Don't, please! You can keep it! Just don't, please!"
The girls attacked Sherri's vulnerable upper body with renewed vigor, alternately scribbling their nails all over her skin and kneading her sides and ribs. Sherri squealed and shrieked like a madwoman. The girls weren't playfully tickling her. They were clearly determined to apply all the suffering tickling could deliver. Sherri gasped and screamed, pleaded and laughed, squirming as much as she could but finding no relief. After a few minutes, both girls set their attention on Sherri's underarms, running their nails up and down and around the smooth skin, sending Sherri through the roof.
Sherri had never been tickled like this in her entire life. Sure, friends had given her a quick squeeze on the sides or knees, but that never lasted more than a few seconds. That few seconds had been enough for her to know how ticklish she was, but never approached anything like this. The worst tickling she could remember was a time at a sleepover when one of her friends had playfully grabbed her foot and ... holy crap, her feet! She hadn't had time to consider that. She wore sandals. They fell off during the struggle, so her feet were bare. Bare feet. Trapped by girls tickling the crap out of her. Not good.
All of that would have driven Sherri mad with desperation, if she were able to form a coherent thought. Fortunately (?) for her, her brain was too busy firing off a solid stream of, "It tickles! It tickles! Make it stop! Make it stop!" to anticipate anything else.
Again, the girls stopped after several minutes. Sherri was exhausted and desperate.
"Please .. you gotta stop ... you gotta let me go .. I won't tell anyone ... you can keep the stuff ..."
"Keep it? We didn't want it in the first place. That crap started showing up all over our house a week ago. First it was just in the lawn, but then you put the rake in the hallway, where Jordyn tripped on it, you glued a lawn gnome to my boyfriend's car, and let's not talk about where you put those lights ..."
"Wait, what? Me? No! I didn't do it! Why would I do that?! C'mon, let me go right now!"
"We know you don't like living next to us. You vandalize our house and then accuse of of stealing the crap you use to vandalize us? We're had it. And you broke in this morning, probably to do something else. What were you going to do this time?"
Sherri's head was swimming. They were sick of *her* crap? What was happening? It was a nightmare! "I don't know how my stuff got here. I didn't even know where it was until I saw it this morning. Honest! You have to let me go!"
Hope and relief welled up in Sherri as the girls shifted their weight off her arms and brought her arms down to her sides. The hope quickly turned to horror, though, as they began to roll her across the floor, wrapping her tightly in a blanket one of the girls had grabbed from the nearby couch.
"What the ... ? Let me go! I'm telling the truth! It's not me!"
Sherri was once again on her back, this time wrapped in a tight blanket cocoon. She struggled desperately, but there was no way for her to move. For the first time, she was consciously aware of her bare feet, which extended out of the blanket. She hoped against hope that they weren't going to do what she was afraid they would do. Any slim chance evaporated when one girl sat on her legs just below the knee, facing her feet with her hands pressing down on Sherri's ankles.
"Omigod, no! Please no! Don't do it! No no no no no AHHHHH! OMIGOD! AHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Nothing the girls did to her up to this point compared to what she was feeling now. One girl held Sherri's ankles while the other scratched her nails up and down her bare feet. The underarm tickling was unbearable, but it was downright pleasant compared to the feeling of those fingers on her feet. Laughter seemed to be coming twice as fast as she could get it out. She screamed and squealed and cried and cackled, shaking her head back and forth, eyes clenched shut in desperation.
Without breaking stride, the girl sitting on Sherri's legs grabbed her right foot with both hands, holding her toes back and her foot completely immobile. Sherri's laughter reached a new octave. Hot coals would not have made her want to move her foot as much as those fingernails. The tickler dragged her fingers up and down Sherri's outstretched foot, up along the sole from the heel to the toes, wriggling for a moment under the toes, and then back down along the sides and top of the foot to the ankle. And then back up again. And again. And again.
Sherri strained against the blanket, trying to muster the strength to rip out of it, but all she could do was get tickled and laugh. A brief pause left Sherri with enough breath to get out a hysterical "No! No! NO!" as the girls switched to her left foot.
* * *
Eyes watched, unseen by the girls, through the living room window.
Damon had heard screaming laughter coming from the sorority next door on a number of occasions. He went over several times to peek through the basement window and see the methods they used to initiate pledges. He had seen them tickle each other has hazing and as punishment for a variety of house offenses.
So this morning, when laughter exploded from the house, Damon knew what was happening. But when he walked over to check it out through the window, he couldn't believe what he was seeing. His own wife was on the floor being tickled mercilessly two of the girls.
His time vandalizing the sorority house had been well spent.
---CK
* * *
SORORITY VANDALISM
That. Is. It.
Buying a house near the university seemed like a good idea. Sherri worked as an administrator in the graduate school, so it was an easy walk to work. And the price was almost too good to pass up. She and her husband Damon had dismissed questions from their friends about living so close to the university and its sorority houses, but the problems were getting to be too much.
It wasn't just the partying, though that got real old at times. But the occasional property damage was becoming frequent property damage, and recently some of their property had gone missing. The items stolen were nothing of real monetary value --- lawn ornaments and trinkets, really --- but it was the principle of thing. Enough was enough.
Early one Saturday morning, after a particularly raucous Friday night, Sherri woke to notice a bare circle in the lawn where one of her favorite planters had been the evening before.
"Really? A planter?" Sherri said aloud to nobody. She fumed as she finished her coffee, and decided to see if she could find the idiot(s) responsible. Her plan was to take a walk through the neighborhood to see if the culprits had been stupid enough (or drunk enough) to leave it in plain sight. The shorts and t-shirt she had on would be sufficient for a warm spring morning, so she slid on her sandals and headed out.
It was a brief search. Sherri was barely out of her driveway when she saw her planter, intact with flowers and all, sitting in the middle of a covered porch at the sorority house next door. And not just her planter, but a rake, a wind chime, three solar-powered landscaping lights, one of her children's tricycles that had all disappeared from her house over the past week. They were all sitting in a neat pile , as if on display.
Sherri considered grabbing the stuff and taking it back home, but she was too mad to leave it at that. A cooler head might have taken a picture of the items on the porch and then filed a complaint with the campus or city police. Sherri's was not a cooler head. These brats needed to know what she thought about them and their childish antics. All the frustrations of the past several months culminated in Sherri knocking on the front door.
To Sherri's surprise, the front door opened slightly when she knocked. Adrenaline had removed all the fear (and manners) from Sherri, so she boldly stepped inside. The front door opened into a living room space with a battered couch, several mismatched recliners and a TV way too nice for the rest of the decor. She could see through a door directly ahead of her into what she guessed was the kitchen. A wooden stairway to her left led to the upper floor.
"Hello?" She called.
Immediately, a girl appeared in the kitchen door. She wore a t-shirt and pajama pants, and had clearly just gotten out of bed.
"Who the hell are you?" the girl asked, clearly as annoyed as she was alarmed.
"That my stuff on your porch, that's who the hell I am," Sherri shot back, somewhat clumsily. She was angry, but didn't have much experience with this sort of verbal confrontation.
"Really?" the girl said slowly, with more than a little sarcasm. Sherri saw a devious glimmer in the girl's eye rather than the surprise or defiance she expected.
Before Sherri could make sense of the girl's behavior, she saw a flash in her peripheral vision. A second girl had come down the stairs, grabbed Sherri and wrestled her to the middle of the living room floor. The girl from the kitchen quickly joined her sister in pinning the older woman to the ground. In less than five seconds, the two girls had Sherri on her back with a girl holding her on either side. Each girl laid on her side, using one arm to secure one of Sherri's arms above her head, and wrapping both legs around one of Sherri's, leaving the intruder all but immobile. Sherri struggled, but was no match for the two college-aged women.
Sherri, of course, screamed and protested, but was completely unprepared for such a ridiculous situation.
"Hey! What are you do-AHHHHHHH! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Without a word, both girls used their free hand to squeeze up and down Sherri's sides, from her hips to under her arms and back. Sherri's eyes shot wide with disbelief, and her protests instantly turned to desperate pleas. She wailed as the girls tickled her.
"AHHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NO! PLEEEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! STOP! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Sherri bucked wildly, but the girls' grip was too strong. Their fingers walked up and down her ribs, squeezed her hips and poked at her underarms. They continued without a word for several minutes before giving Sherri a breathless, gasping break.
Sherri used the pause to plead with the girls. She scrambled with her now tickle-exhausted brain to make sense of the bizarre situation. It didn't take any thought, though to know she couldn't handle getting tickled, and all she wanted in the world in that moment was to be out of that house.
"Please ... stop ... you gotta stop ... no more. Let me go!"
"That's your stuff on the porch?" one of the girls asked again.
"Yes ... I just wanted ..."
The girls started wriggling their fingers and lowering them back toward Sherri's body.
"No ... please don't tickle please don't tickle please don't AHHHHHHHAHAHAHAHA!"
Sherri was once again lost in ticklish sensations overwhelming every other though or desire. All she could feel was the tickling, and all she wanted was for it to stop.
The girls switched from harder tickling to a lighter touch, using their nails to drive Sherri crazy. The girl on Sherri's left focused on her leg, tickling all over and around Sherri's thigh, causing Sherri to twist and buck in a useless attempt to free herself. The second girl slid her hand under Sherri's shirt and scribbled her nails up and down Sherri's outstretched side. Sherri shrieked wildly at the new sensations and then settled into a steam of cackling laughter. Pleas for mercy exited her mouth as incoherent hysterical babbling between uncontrollable bursts of laughter as the girls found particularly sensitive spots. Again, the girls stopped after several minutes.
"Please ... please ... let me go ... please ... I just wanted my stuff back ..."
"Wanted it back?" the first girl said in disbelief. "Why would we give it back?"
"Please ... it's mine .. you stole it ..."
"Stole it?! Are you kidding me?" The girl said, genuinely angry now. She nodded to her friend, who pulled Sherri's shirt up over and behind her head, leaving her upper body bare except for her bra.
"Oh no! No! Don't, please! You can keep it! Just don't, please!"
The girls attacked Sherri's vulnerable upper body with renewed vigor, alternately scribbling their nails all over her skin and kneading her sides and ribs. Sherri squealed and shrieked like a madwoman. The girls weren't playfully tickling her. They were clearly determined to apply all the suffering tickling could deliver. Sherri gasped and screamed, pleaded and laughed, squirming as much as she could but finding no relief. After a few minutes, both girls set their attention on Sherri's underarms, running their nails up and down and around the smooth skin, sending Sherri through the roof.
Sherri had never been tickled like this in her entire life. Sure, friends had given her a quick squeeze on the sides or knees, but that never lasted more than a few seconds. That few seconds had been enough for her to know how ticklish she was, but never approached anything like this. The worst tickling she could remember was a time at a sleepover when one of her friends had playfully grabbed her foot and ... holy crap, her feet! She hadn't had time to consider that. She wore sandals. They fell off during the struggle, so her feet were bare. Bare feet. Trapped by girls tickling the crap out of her. Not good.
All of that would have driven Sherri mad with desperation, if she were able to form a coherent thought. Fortunately (?) for her, her brain was too busy firing off a solid stream of, "It tickles! It tickles! Make it stop! Make it stop!" to anticipate anything else.
Again, the girls stopped after several minutes. Sherri was exhausted and desperate.
"Please .. you gotta stop ... you gotta let me go .. I won't tell anyone ... you can keep the stuff ..."
"Keep it? We didn't want it in the first place. That crap started showing up all over our house a week ago. First it was just in the lawn, but then you put the rake in the hallway, where Jordyn tripped on it, you glued a lawn gnome to my boyfriend's car, and let's not talk about where you put those lights ..."
"Wait, what? Me? No! I didn't do it! Why would I do that?! C'mon, let me go right now!"
"We know you don't like living next to us. You vandalize our house and then accuse of of stealing the crap you use to vandalize us? We're had it. And you broke in this morning, probably to do something else. What were you going to do this time?"
Sherri's head was swimming. They were sick of *her* crap? What was happening? It was a nightmare! "I don't know how my stuff got here. I didn't even know where it was until I saw it this morning. Honest! You have to let me go!"
Hope and relief welled up in Sherri as the girls shifted their weight off her arms and brought her arms down to her sides. The hope quickly turned to horror, though, as they began to roll her across the floor, wrapping her tightly in a blanket one of the girls had grabbed from the nearby couch.
"What the ... ? Let me go! I'm telling the truth! It's not me!"
Sherri was once again on her back, this time wrapped in a tight blanket cocoon. She struggled desperately, but there was no way for her to move. For the first time, she was consciously aware of her bare feet, which extended out of the blanket. She hoped against hope that they weren't going to do what she was afraid they would do. Any slim chance evaporated when one girl sat on her legs just below the knee, facing her feet with her hands pressing down on Sherri's ankles.
"Omigod, no! Please no! Don't do it! No no no no no AHHHHH! OMIGOD! AHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Nothing the girls did to her up to this point compared to what she was feeling now. One girl held Sherri's ankles while the other scratched her nails up and down her bare feet. The underarm tickling was unbearable, but it was downright pleasant compared to the feeling of those fingers on her feet. Laughter seemed to be coming twice as fast as she could get it out. She screamed and squealed and cried and cackled, shaking her head back and forth, eyes clenched shut in desperation.
Without breaking stride, the girl sitting on Sherri's legs grabbed her right foot with both hands, holding her toes back and her foot completely immobile. Sherri's laughter reached a new octave. Hot coals would not have made her want to move her foot as much as those fingernails. The tickler dragged her fingers up and down Sherri's outstretched foot, up along the sole from the heel to the toes, wriggling for a moment under the toes, and then back down along the sides and top of the foot to the ankle. And then back up again. And again. And again.
Sherri strained against the blanket, trying to muster the strength to rip out of it, but all she could do was get tickled and laugh. A brief pause left Sherri with enough breath to get out a hysterical "No! No! NO!" as the girls switched to her left foot.
* * *
Eyes watched, unseen by the girls, through the living room window.
Damon had heard screaming laughter coming from the sorority next door on a number of occasions. He went over several times to peek through the basement window and see the methods they used to initiate pledges. He had seen them tickle each other has hazing and as punishment for a variety of house offenses.
So this morning, when laughter exploded from the house, Damon knew what was happening. But when he walked over to check it out through the window, he couldn't believe what he was seeing. His own wife was on the floor being tickled mercilessly two of the girls.
His time vandalizing the sorority house had been well spent.
---CK
