TeeHeeLawrence
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"Homunculus" mostly m>F tickling, all over, but admittedly foot focussed
"Homunculus"
By Tee Hee Lawrence
The package was on her doorstep when Lorinda returned home from work. It was about 12 inches long and two-thirds-that wide and wrapped in plain brown paper. It bore no return address, just her calligraphic name on a gift card. She picked it up and brought it inside.
She'd had a long day at the office, a long month really. She'd been working hard on a presentation that she would be making tomorrow before the top company brass. Jacklynne, a longtime rival in the sales department, would also be making a presentation. It was understood that the winner would earn promotion to Director of Sales and Marketing, replacing the retiring incumbent.
Jacklynne had been brazenly predicting that she would win the competition. She had even cheekily told Lori that there would still be a place for Lori in Sales once Jacklynne became boss.
Lori, irritated, had blurted to her rival, "Don't make me LAUGH!"
Jacklynne gave her an icy look and assured her, "BELIEVE me, Lorinda! There's NOTHING I wouldn't do to get that position."
And Lori DID laugh at that, right in Jacklynne's face. “Hahaha! Nothing is RIGHT! You just TICKLE me, Jacklynne. I’m SO scared of you that I can’t sleep at night for laughing. Ha. Ha. Ha.”
"That Jacklynne's a witch," she chuckled now, remembering the venomous look in her older, full-figured redheaded rival's dark eyes. "No WAY is she getting that promotion over me! I don't care what voodoo she tries to pull."
She kicked off her heels and padded on stocking feet into the living room, where she placed the package on the coffee table. She sat back on the couch with a sigh of relief, crossing her nicely-toned legs on the table next to the package. She swept back her relaxed long hair, brown with blond highlights, checking her messages while idly wiggling her toes under the lacy nylon.
Her boyfriend Quinn, whom she had talked to all too briefly during lunch, sent photos from Zurich, where he had travelled for his bank. She would have loved to call him, but figured that he was sleeping, so contented herself with an affectionate text.
The phone chirped. It was Tazmina, her best friend since grade school.
“Hey, Taz!”
“Yo’, girl! We still on for dinner Friday night?”
“’Course we are! I haven’t forgotten that I creamed you on the court Sunday.” Lori had won their last weekly tennis match.
“I STILL say your last serve was long.”
“Oh, is that why you sent me this bomb?”
“Huh?”
“I found a package at my door when I got home. I figured it might be from you.”
“Uh-uh, Lor’. Not me! What is it?”
“I don’t know what it is. I don’t know who it’s from. I haven’t opened it.”
“Probably a goodie from your guy. Prob'ly a French tickler to wind your mainspring. Damn! He’s a sweetie! These days, I only get something on Mother’s Day, and it’s a damn pot holder or something.”
“Uh-huh! You’re breakin’ my heart. I SAW that necklace Don got you for your anniversary last month, remember?”
They giggled and chatted about this and that for a while before Tazmina blurted, “Uh-oh. Hubby’s back with the boys. ‘Later, Lori!”
“’Later, LOSER! Hehhehheh!”
Lori returned a couple of calls and exchanged a few texts before the package caught her attention again. She leaned forward to grab it and set it in her lap. It was curious that there was no indication on the wrapping of the sender. The gift card simply bore her name and a lenticular smilie sticker that laughed when she moved it. That disarmed her wariness and made her chuckle. It would be just like Quinn to surprise her with something while he was away. Maybe it was an orchid, or a stylish pair of ballet flats. Or maybe it was something naughty, like an erotic baked good in the shape of.... Considering the size of the package, she snorted at THAT thought.
So, with some eagerness, she undid the knot in the twine and ripped off the brown paper, revealing a plain shoe box. “Ah-ha!” she thought. “I was right! Darling Quinn bought me shoes.”
She raised the lid of the box and gasped. Nestled in red tissue paper therein was a doll, about 10 inches tall. She lifted it out of the box and settled back with it onto the couch. She saw that it was a handsome little fellow, perfectly articulated, rich brown in color and clad in belted black shorts. It had shining black curls down to its shoulders. Its dark eyes were large and round, but unfocused. Its closed thin lips were set in a pleasant smile. The doll bore a tattoo of crossed feathers, one light, one dark, across its chest. It was holding by its sides two fluffy six-inch feathers—one white, the other black—one in each hand. Around its neck was a golden chain, from which hung a small oval golden medallion engraved with yet another feather.
The doll looked so silly clutching the feathers that it made Lori giggle. She spoke to it. "What a cute li'l' guy!" She playfully poked its tummy and hooked a finger onto the waistband of its shorts and peered inside. "Ooooo! You're cute ALL over, aren't you? Hehhehheh!" She chuckled as she pet its ebon hair and stroked the tattoo on its smooth chest. "You're hilarious! You just TICKLE me, li'l' guy!"
Her phone rang. It was Quinn!
"Can't sleep, lover?"
Sounding a bit tipsy, Quinn said, "Helloooo! I’m out with some folks from our London and Berlin offices. They're way better drinkers than me."
"I'M a way better drinker than you. Remember our first date? You had one glass of wine and I had to drive YOU home."
"Yeah, yeah. Well, we're in the hotel bar, so I can weave my way to bed."
"Good. As long as it's YOUR bed."
"I'll send you corro-corrob-corrobo--video as evidence."
"See that you DO! Anyway, 'thanks’ for the present, hon’. You shouldn’t have—and I mean that sincerely."
"Huh? How would you know I bought you a present? I'm not home yet."
"You can’t kid me! You sent me this as a 'good luck charm' for my presentation tomorrow."
As she diddled with the medallion, its chain broke, and tumbled into her lap.
"Oops! Hehheh!" she chuckled.
"Oops?"
"I managed to break this present that you didn’t send me."
"Describe this present that I didn’t send you."
She stood the doll on the coffee table, and sat back, again resting her stocking feet next to it. "Ooo-kay! You didn't send me this li'l' stud holding a feather in each hand and wearing a silly medallion that I just broke off."
"Right. JUST the thing you’d expect from me."
"C’mon, Quinn! Who else knows how TICKLISH I am? Besides, you’ve got a strange sense of humor."
"Not THAT strange. Anyway, 'bout your presentation, you're gonna nail it AND the promotion.
"Awww! Thanks, hon'!" she gushed, her brown eyes glistening.
"Oh, sorry, Lor’, I gotta go! Another German toast! We'll solve the mystery when I get back. I love you!'
"I love you, too, babe! See you Friday!"
Sighing at the prospect of her empty bed, Lori rubbed her stocking feet together on the table as she scrolled through more messages. Her left foot brushed against something. She gasped and jerked her foot back, knocking the doll over. "Heeeyhahaha! Watch those feathers, handsome!" She chuckled and picked the doll up. "How'dja know my feet are 5-alarm ticklish?"
She playfully poked its tummy and said aloud, "'Careful, boy! I can tickle back. Ask Quinn." "Who sent you, huh? Talk or else!" She gave the soles of its tiny feet a tickle. "Tough guy, eh? Hehhehheh."
"‘Funny," she thought, puzzled as she squeezed it. "It felt cool and hard before. Now, it’s warmer and softer, somehow.*And I may be crazy, but it seems to be smiling even more! Jeez, hehheh, I'm spacing out from hunger!"
She stood the doll back on the table. She plucked the medallion and chain from her lap and tossed it at its feet. "'Sorry 'bout your jewelry, doll. I need a nice hot shower and some Lean Cuisine. See ya!"
She went into the bedroom, undressed, and luxuriated under a steamy shower, humming all the while.
She did not hear, then, the tiny heart within the doll beating, nor hear it gently breathing. She did not observe its eerie black eyes gain focus and become luminous, nor witness it slowly turn its head towards the sounds of her humming in the shower, as its smile became a wicked, sharp-toothed grin.
Fifteen minutes later, wearing an oversized Serena Williams tee shirt, Wonder Woman boxer shorts and fuchsia Crocs flip-flops, she breezed through the living room and into the kitchen. Preoccupied with toweling her hair, she failed to notice that the doll was no longer on the coffee table.
Making quick work microwaving a chicken teriyaki entrée and mixing a glass of instant sweet lemon tea, she returned to the couch to enjoy her supper as she selected from her Netflix queue. She’d been eating for a few minutes when it dawned upon her that the doll was gone from the table. Only the gold medallion and severed chain remained.
"Huh," she thought. "Dumb thing must've fallen off." She took a swig of tea and knelt down to look for it. It wasn't under the table. She chuckled, "Heh. Where are you hiding, guy? Don’t tell me you bounced under the couch.”
She got down on her hands and knees and peered under the couch. She spotted it lying on its side halfway to the wall. Despite the dark, its eyes seemed to glow at her. She muttered, "Now, HOW did you manage to get all the way back THERE?" She reached under but it was just beyond her fingers. She sat back on her haunches and blew a stray strawberry-scented bang out of her eyes. The couch was a solid piece of oak furniture, and was a nuisance to move. “Huh! You can just stay there, then. That’s probably the best place for such a silly thing like you anyway.”
She finished her supper, but was too tired to watch all of her show. She dutifully dragged her sleepy self to the kitchen to wash her supper things. Flicking off lights, she muttered, “‘Night, doll. I’m goin’ to bed. Big day tomorrow.” Out of habit, when Quinn was away, she closed the bedroom door behind her. The doll was no longer under the couch.
Lori kicked off her Crocs and happily slid between the sheets under the down comforter of her double bed. She checked her messages one last time, then set her phone on the bedside table, before turning off the light, and settling her head on her pillow with a contented sigh. She was so tired that she barely indulged in another theatrical sigh, this one of self-pity that Quinn wasn’t beside her.
It wasn’t long before she had drifted off to sleep. Under the bed, where the edge of the comforter nearly met the carpeted floor, two little glowing eyes peered out. A few minutes later, after Lori had surrendered to soft snores, the eyes peeked over the far side of the bedside table. Tiny hands reached out far enough to bat Lori’s phone onto the carpet below. In short order, the phone was dragged behind the edge of the comforter.
Moments after, at the foot of the bed, near the floor, a small shape bulged the comforter. The shape slowly moved up the end of the bed until it arrived atop, between Lori’s feet, which were soles up, about 12 inches apart as she dozed, snoring faintly, on her tummy. She was oblivious to the shape at her feet as she slid into an erotic dream, softly muttering, “Ooooh, Quinn…yeah, baby…!”
Under the comforter, a small, shadowed figure reached out to the warmth on both sides and ran five tiny but strong fingers along the sheet covering Lori’s feet. Lori murmured, “Hehheh.” She wiggled her toes and moved her feet a bit further apart, but didn’t awake. The avenging spirit removed the black feather from his belt, where he had tucked the plumes after reviving. He used the nub of the plume to make tiny holes in the sheet beside both feet. Replacing the feather, he then worked his strong fingers into the holes and ripped openings large enough for him to put his hands through the sheet.
A rich scent of cocoa butter wafted through the sheet from Lori’s skin. That, and her warmth, still moist from her long shower, guided him as his eager little fingers found the soft curves of her insteps. The fingertips slid from the sides of her heels down to the tips of her big toes. Her feet twitched, and, though still asleep, she stirred, smiled, and muttered, “Hehheh. Don’ tickle my feet, hon’.”
The fingers pulled back for a moment, then returned to flutter delicately upon her arches. Lori tittered faintly and rolled onto her right side, pulling her feet slightly back. He was thrilled, and his dark eyes indeed seemed to glow. She was very warm and tender and very, very ticklish. He would harvest much laughter from her and grow stronger. That was his purpose. As she laughed, she would grow weaker. This was her curse, for unleashing the spirit of "He Who Makes Laughter" from this innocuous shell into which he'd been contained after being invoked.
His features twisted now into a fiendish aspect, the demonic doll ripped the left hole wider so that he could slip his torso through it. In the eerie amber light of his glowing eyes, he reached out for her soft, wrinkly soles, which he lightly tickled two handed. She, dreaming wetly, giggled softly and muttered, “Hehheh. Stop, Quinn! Heh. ‘Tickles!” She settled onto her back, repositioning her feet so her right toes actually slipped through the smaller hole in the sheet.
Pulling back outside the sheet, he plucked the white feather from his belt and teased her exposed, beestung toes. “Hehhehhehhehstahahahp, hon’!” She nearly awakened, but instead pulled her foot back and rolled onto her left side. Repositioning, she happened to slip her left foot clear to her ankle through the larger hole in the sheet.
His eyes now glowing enough to brightly illuminate her fetching foot, the avenging spirit gripped her toes with surprising strength and brushed her left sole from toes to heel. “Teeheenonoheeheehee!” Lori tittered and giggled as she sleepily tried to pull her foot back through the hole. Relentless, her tiny tickler fiercely feathered her soft, ticklish flesh. “Teeheeheehee!” Surfacing giggly from her slumber, Lori still could not yank her foot free.
Giggles bubbling, Lori’s eyes sleepily opened and she murmured, “Hehhehheh, Quihihinn! Youhoo know I’ma tick-lish! Beheeheeast! Hehhehhehheh!” Eyes brilliant, grin fiercer, the doll energetically tickled her tender sole, greedily craving every giggle. Lori’s foot jerked but was still trapped.
Awake now, Lori rose onto her elbows to curse out her lover. “Hahaha you ba--!” Her breath caught as she remembered, “Waitaminnut! Quinn’s in Europe! Then, what’s--?” Still being tickled, she couldn’t help giggling as she fumbled for the bedside light switch. Her foot was tangled in the sheet, and something was pinching her toes while something else tickly slid up and down her sole, really, really tickling. She couldn’t stop giggling, and couldn't help laughing out loud a little.
“HeeheeheehahahaHAAAA!” She managed to turn the lamp on. Laughing as she still futilely tried to pull her foot away, she was stunned to see a bulge in the comforter near her feet. “Wha—hahhahaaah! What the Hehhehhell--?” Fighting the terribly persistent tickling, she grabbed two fistfuls of comforter and yanked it back, back, back until she beheld her left foot poking through the sheet—and with a frisson of terror—the little doll gripping and feathering it! It gave her a quick glance with eerily glowing eyes and leered horribly as it intently tickled her.
Lori let loose a panicked yell—peppered with hysterical giggles--and forcefully pulled her foot back through the sheet. She yelped as she beheld the doll tucking the feathers in its belt and diving through the hole after her retreating foot. Transfixed, she saw its shape moving under the sheet, and then felt it suddenly upon her and then UNDER her voluminous shirt. When its questing, fierce little fingers clutched at her bare belly, her giggles exploded into a scream.
“EEEEEEAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHANOOOO!” The damnable doll was tickling her with all its Hellish might. She howled with hapless hilarity as, uncomprehending, she shouted, “HAHAHOW-HOW CAN THIS BEHEE HAHAPPEHEHHEHNING?!?”
She shoved the comforter to her right as she pushed herself to her left, trying to yank her legs free from the tangled, tattered sheet. As she slid, screaming with laughter, off the side of the bed, she tried desperately to dislodge the doll out from under her shirt. Her butt hit the carpet and her long, flailing legs stretched over the bed as she screeched and slapped at her little tickler. Now that she was in this position, it slid forward, its breath hot on her tits while its busy little fingers slid up her sides and settled into her armpits, tickling her tenaciously. “YEEEEEHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAGEHEHEHETOFFFF!”
The avenging spirit reveled in rendering this woman helpless. His strong fingers moved like quicksilver down her sides and up again, there to maliciously massage the ticklish tenderness within her hollows despite her feeble attempts to bat him off. His eyes blazed and he grinned fiendishly. Her howls of hilarity made his life force stronger, fueling his hunger to tease her ripe, sensuous body until he ripped every breath of laughter from her.
Beset by unbelievable evil, Lori was both babbling in terror and spasming with laughter. Racing, her mind cried, “What are you? Hahahahahaaa! Where did you come from? Heheheheheheh! Why are you tickling meeeeeeheeheeheeeeeeee?” Or she was shouting…she didn’t know. All she knew was the little monster was really tickling her tits and under her arms and between her ribs and across her tummy while she screamed with laughter and tried with all her flagging strength to grab it and make it stop!
Finally, when it seemed it would keep tickling her, literally to death, she gained a firm hold upon its creepy legs. Still giggling, she somehow dragged it out and, with a bellow, flung it across the room. She frantically got to her feet and reached for her phone. Not seeing it on the table where she’d placed it, she moaned, “Nooo, oh, noooo! Where? Where IS it?”
Exulting triumphantly, the doll clambered over the far side of the bed and glared at her. Lori screamed. It was between her and the door. She couldn’t be sure that she could reach the door AND open it before it would be upon her. She couldn’t bear the thought of feeling its creepy little fingers tickle her again. She had to find her phone and call for help. Then she’d somehow have to fend it off until help came.
She saw her tennis racket lying on the bureau behind her. She was grateful that she’d been lazy on Sunday and left it there after her game with Tazmina. She grasped it and turned to face the ugly doll, which had jumped off the bed and was advancing towards her. Grunting, she swung backhanded with all her might and caught square the little horror, sending it somersaulting over the bed and across the room. It slammed headfirst against the far wall, against which it seemed to stick for long seconds before sliding down and settling face down onto the carpet, where it lay still. “Take THAT, you little creep!” shouted Lori, gasping and vibrating from adrenaline.
She dropped the racket, and scanned the room desperately. “’Gotta find my phone.” She was under no illusion that she’d finished the doll. She needed to call for help. She got on her hands and knees, peering under the bedside table, and then under the bed.
She didn’t see her phone at first, but spotted it actually tucked amidst the bedsprings near the headboard. “How the Hell--?” She shivered when she realized the doll had hidden it there. She quickly rose to her knees and saw that the damned thing was still quiet, face down.
Lori extended her arm under the bed, but couldn’t reach back far enough to touch the phone. She recovered the racket and probed with it under the bed, trying to dislodge the phone, without luck. She was so intent that she didn’t notice, across the room, the doll stir, dizzily shake its head, and begin to rise, its eyes flashing with anger.
The avenging spirit was incensed at this indignity. The woman had dared to strike his person. Oh, she would pay! He would reclaim her and, this time, make her laugh until she was spent and he was stronger than ever!
Frustrated, it dawned on Lori to use her long legs. She sat on the carpet and eased her bare legs under the bed. It was a tight fit, but she was able to squeeze in up to her hips. With her tee shirt ridden up to her tits, she lay back on the carpet and began to feel under the bedframe with her toes. She felt the phone, which she tried to jiggle free by wiggling her toes. After a few tense moments, the phone tumbled between her ankles. “Thank you, God!” she muttered, relaxing while she surveyed the ceiling.
It was then that a pair of menacing eyes glowered at her over the side of the bed.
Lori screamed, “NOOOOOOO!” trying to scoot back from under the bed. But, to her horror, she realized that wasn’t easy. She screamed, “AIIIIEEEEEE!” as the doll dropped over the side and attacked her exposed ticklish sides with its inhumanly strong fingers. “AIIIIEEEEEEAHHAHAHAHAHAAAA!” Ticklish terror primed her to shriek peals of laughter, but still she fought her tiny attacker with all her might. She slapped at its horrible head and tried to grab its wicked hands. She was so ticklish, however, that her defense was hampered, and this fueled her terror, and perversely, her laughter. And the terrible thing seemed stronger than before. It seemed less affected by her blows and more resistant to her attempts to get ahold of it.
The avenging spirit thrilled in his tickling of his prey. His masterful fingers alternately snakily stroked her sides, powerfully poked between her ribs and cunningly caressed under her arms. He drank in her hysterical laughter, which made him stronger by the guffaw, and even more determined to tickle her. Her efforts against him were annoying, but, with each passing moment, she laughed more, and fought less. His face was a mask of evil triumphant.
Overcome by ticklish laughter, Lori’s grip on her tormentor loosened, and her hands floundered to the carpet at her sides. She might truly then have been tickled to death by the demonic doll, but for the object her right hand settled upon: one of her Croc sandals. She grasped it. Roaring with heroic effort, she clocked the doll with the Croc. Stunned, it stopped tickling long enough for her to Croc it again. It staggered, giving her the moment to finally seize it and, with a loud grunt, thrust it onto the bed. When its ghastly grin immediately reappeared over the side of the bed, with all her might, she hurled the Croc at it. The shoe smashed its nose and it fell back, out of sight.
Her tummy still aching from laughing, she muttered, “Damn it! I’ve gotta get that phone NOW!” Empowered by her chilled certainty of its imminent, inexorable recovery, she finally yanked her legs out from under the bed and immediately crawled head first back under. The dusty space, littered with shoes and other junk, induced claustrophobia, and the carpet made crawling a challenge. Her panic, however, urged her on, even allowing her to squeeze her healthy butt underneath. She finally secured the phone, with only her lower legs exposed beyond the bed.
Before she even had the presence of mind to make a call, though, the doll burst under the comforter on the other side and grabbed the phone. Lori screamed, slapped at the doll, and tried to yank her phone back away from it. “AIIIIIIEEEE! No-you-don’t--!” However, she couldn’t maneuver well in the tight space and its inhuman strength allowed it to pull it from her hand. “NOOOOOOO! You little--! Give that BACK!” The doll grinned in triumph at her and disappeared with her phone beyond the comforter.
As she swore muffled curses and flexed her feet with frustration below him, the avenging spirit brandished his prize atop the bed. “The woman had thought that her blows could stop a avenging spirit. Hah! But I am the stronger—and I claimed the prize!” He chuckled as he oh-so-cleverly hid his prize upon her bed under where she lays her lovely head. Now, peering over the edge of the bed, he relished the view of her struggling legs and her unprotected, upturned bare soles below. At last, he would make her laugh until he was invincible!
Panicking, Lori realized, with her butt snugly wedged underneath, that she was going to have a hard time getting out. She’d been futilely trying, for a few moments, to move forward or back when she felt something land upon her exposed calves. “OhGodNO! NonoNOOOO!” The damned doll was straddling her ankles and effectively weighing them to the carpet. She couldn’t raise or move her feet enough to dislodge him. “How could this little shit be SO STRONG?” she thought, before moaning, “OOOOHHHHNOOO!” It wasn’t going to do what she was afraid of, would it?
“Get the Hell off me!” she shouted, muffled under the bed.
Eyes aflame, grin flashing, the avenging spirit, sitting firmly on her ankles, surveyed the pink, wrinkly expanses of the soft soles of her absolutely helpless, deliciously ticklish bare feet. He drew the two feathers from his belt and began to drag their tickly plumes with sadistic slowness back from her scrunching toes and up to her heels and down again, over and over.
“NOHOHOHOHOOOO! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAP!”
He teased the tips of her clenched toes, and, when they reflexively relaxed, he firmly held down their bee stung pads. Taking his sweet time, relishing her hysteria, he painstakingly feathered every super sensitive millimeter under her exposed toes. and pushed the plumes between them, as she howled and her toes quivered in ticklish agony. Soaking up every decibel of her laughter, he then drew the feathers on a tickly, torturous course along every delectable wrinkle across and along her soles. He tantalized the touchy, deeply pink edges of her soles, and brushed the paler, more subtly-wrinkled curves of her arches. With the silken blades of the feathers, he dusted the hearts of her soles near her heels and used the feathery tips to teasingly circle the tender balls of her feet.
“OHPLEASEOHPLEEHEEHEEHEESE! NONONOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOOHOOHOOHOOHEEHEEHEEEEEE!”
Lori laughed and laughed and laughed as she felt the feathers mercilessly brush and nudge, poke and stroke, tickle and tease her haplessly exposed and horribly ticklish bare feet. She was still trying vainly to kick the doll away, to pull her legs in, or to push herself back out, but helpless ticklish laughter poured out of her, almost completely weakening her efforts.
She completely lost it when the doll used the hard quills to scratch the wrinkles along her soles. She screamed as the doll fiendishly traced the faintest line from the bottoms of her toes to the rougher rise of her heels. She screeched when the tips skied the curves of her insteps. The bed above shook as the doll, for excruciating long moments, alternatively tickled her feet with the plumes and the quills of each feather, making her breathless with laughter.
HAHAHAHAHAHHA! (Gasp!)HEEHEEHEEHEEAHHAHAHAHAHA(Gasp!)HEEHEEHEEHEEHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAAAAAA! (Gasp!)”
Infused with energy from her wild laughter, the avenging spirit was stronger than ever. The woman could hardly move her feet beneath him. He tucked the feathers back into his belt, and, leering, wiggled his fingers tantalizingly just above her long, wrinkly soles.
Exhausted, sweaty, and breathing raggedly, Lori nonetheless collected herself long enough to try to somehow reason with the thing. “OhGodstop! Stop it, you—you THING! PLEASE stop tickling me! I can’t STAND it! Please stop tickling my POOR feet. Please! Please? I’m SO ticklish there! You’re KILLING me! Please stop! Please?” She was so desperate to buy time enough to gather breath and strength to free herself that she babbled in like fashion for long, demeaning moments.
The avenging spirit‘s fingers hovered just above Lori’s soft, pinkened soles as he listened without an ounce of pity to her piteous pleas. His grin widened and heart swelled with cruelty as he began to ever-so-slowly run his forefingers down her soles, with his ears pricked up.
"Nohehheh! Noho! Noheheh, pleeheese! Dohon't dohoo thahat! Hehheheheheh! Stahahppit!"
He continued this slow torture for several minutes as her pleas collapsed into incoherent laughter. Suddenly, he dug ten tenacious tiny fingers into her soft flesh and rigorously stroked her suffering soles as she keened hysterically.
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEYAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAA!"
After endless minutes of this savage tickling, he whirled upon her legs and began to dance his wicked fingers up the insides of her legs, past her knees, until he was leeringly teasing her trembling thighs. While five fingers continued this torment, he wielded one feather so that it slipped under her shorts and stroked her passion.
“NOOOOOEEEEEEEHEEEEEHEEEEEEEHEEEEEEE! AHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!”
Accentuating Lori’s hysteria was the disconcerting feeling –under her laughter and terror—that she was indeed getting more than a little TURNED-ON by this ruthless, incredible tickler. When Quinn tickled her in bed, it really fired her up. Now, despite—or maybe BECAUSE of--her helpless position, she could feel the flames of her passionate pleasure center being perversely stoked with every tickly stroke. His fingers and feather were all too horribly threatening to cause her bod--already horny with longing for Quinn--to betray her.
She dampened this feeling, as best she could, with the equally disconcerting thought that she still didn’t know who’d sent this monster to her, and why. As she squealed with laughter and gasped as her screws of excitement were teasingly tightened, she nonetheless realized that if she surrendered to this creature's tickling--and gave herself to the pleasure it promised, she'd never make it to her presentation in a few short hours. The damned thing would tickle and pleasure her to utter exhaustion--maybe to death!
Suddenly, through her hilarity, she KNEW who had sent this horror to her--and why! That certainty gave her the desperate, determined burst of strength needed to free herself.
First, before trying one last time to pull herself (and her exposed bare legs and feet) forward and fully under the bed, she pushed herself, in spite of her tightly tucked tush, BACK. This allowed her knees to get out from under. With that, she was able to jerk her feet up, thus pitching the doll, preoccupied maliciously tickling between her thighs, into a vaulting arc ending with a thwack against the ceiling. It crashed down onto the bed, where its glassy expression and inability to command its limbs proved it inert--for the moment.
Praying that she'd sent the little fucker flying far and hard enough, Lori then grunted as she took a deep, ragged breath and pulled herself--and her full ass--forward under the bed. The dusty carpet making her sneeze, she plowed past worn cross-trainers, odd socks, and a lost sexual toy as she gritted her teeth and dragged herself forward. The bed frame scratched her scalp, shoulders and butt. Her head pushed past the comforter as, terrified that the doll would again ambush her, she pulled herself out from under.
Standing unsteadily, she glanced behind her to see the doll stirring back to coherence on the bed. "FUCK!" she barked, as she leaped to the bedroom door and slammed it shut behind her.
After a few moments, she relaxed her stranglehold on the doorknob. She thought, "My phone--!" She wasn't going back in there to find it. She looked down at her torn, sweat-soaked shirt and shorts. She wasn't going back in there for a change of clothes, either. She ruefully remembered that her purse--with her car keys--and her laptop were in there, too.
There was a thud against the bottom of the door. She staggered back. There was another thud, and another.
She pressed against the door, as if to judge its sturdiness. She didn't know if the damned thing could open the door, but it certainly wasn't strong enough to smash through it. "Right?" she thought. The thuds continued relentlessly as she stared at the door and slowly backed away from it.
She practically fell back onto the couch. She was suddenly aware of her exhaustion. She felt like she could lie down and close her eyes and sleep and wake up to a bright morning and the relieved feeling that she had been dreaming--
Another loud thud at the bedroom door and she opened her eyes and sat upright. She had to get out of here. No matter her near nakedness, she'd run to a neighbor and call 911. It was the only thing to do. Now. They'd think her a madwoman, perhaps strung out or drunk, with a story of a demon doll that wouldn't stop tickling her. Right. Maybe she should just say that there was an intruder. No need to tell them it was a foot high. She'd just say a violent intruder. God, if they have on body cams and this gets on YouTube, I can kiss off the promotion.
The thuds continued. She took a deep breath, and was about to steel herself and stand and run out for help, when she noticed something glinting on the coffee table.
It was the golden medallion, with the feather etched upon it, that had been hanging from the doll's neck when she'd unwrapped it. Coiled around it was its broken chain. Lori picked up the chain and considered the medallion. She hadn't noticed that the thumping at the bedroom door had stopped.
"It had just been a stupid doll when it was wearing this," she thought. "After this broke off, weird shit starting happening." She was unaware of the slight movements of the knob of the bedroom door. "I wonder..." She glanced at the door. It was still.
She leaped up and ran into the kitchen. She got on her knees and opened the cabinet under the sink. She pulled out a toolbox. Flinging it open, she rustled through it until she found a tube of super adhesive. She uncapped it and squeezed a dollop onto one end of the chain and held it to the other end. She blew on the mend, as much with magical thinking as with drying intent.
At the bedroom door, the knob slowly turned until a click sounded. There was a thump on the other side. Creaking faintly, the door eased open a few inches. Near the base, bright, hungry eyes peered into the living room.
Still on her knees by the kitchen sink, Lori dandled upon her forefinger the medallion on its mended chain. She thought, "If I can somehow get this around that little bastard's neck, maybe it'll just become a lifeless doll again. It'll stop tickling me."
She stood and took a deep breath, glancing out at the living room. "If I don't stop it, I'll never make it to the presentation. And Jacklynne will get the promotion." Her eyes narrowed. "She thought she was SO clever. The witch!"
She held up the medallion, glinting as it swayed before her eyes, flashing with purpose. "I'll shut the little creep down, and bring it with me to work." She smiled coldly. "'Bet the little fella will just LOVE finding out how ticklish SHE is."
Holding the medallion in her right hand and brandishing a stainless steel ladle in the other, she padded carefully on her still tingling bare feet into the living room. She was tiptoeing by the coffee table when she saw that the bedroom door was slightly open. Her breath caught as she dropped to her knees, scanning the floor in a panic. Where was the doll? WHERE WAS IT?
The avenging spirit cooly observed his prey. She was warily stalking him, but to no avail. She was much larger, yes. She was now certainly all too aware of how vulnerable she was, for she was armed, too. But there was all that ticklish flesh, barely protected by a few strips of clothing. And he was "He Who Makes Laughter." He removed the black feather from his belt and tensed his tiny muscles. This time, he would tickle her until she were totally his.
Lori's heart pounded. She couldn't find it. She didn't see it. She sprang to her feet and stepped to the bedroom door, beside which she flipped on the light switch. The living room was flooded with light from the ornamental ceiling fixture and two floor lamps on either side of the couch. She was focussed on the floor. She knelt to look under the couch, ready to brain the thing when it jumped out at her.
It wasn't under the couch. She quickly scanned the floor around her, when she became aware of a looming shadow on the carpet before her...a shadow that wasn't hers...
Suddenly the doll landed upon the back of her neck, having leaped from its hiding place, the lampshade of the floor lamp behind her. Lori screamed and bucked it off. However, off balance, she tumbled backwards while it quickly recovered. It pounced upon her and, before she could wield the ladle, crawled under her tee shirt. It began to fiercely tickle her middle with its strong fingers. She yelped and started to giggle. As it roughly tickled her tummy and ribs, its head poked through a tear in her shirt. She saw its evil eyes and horrible grin and she screamed with laughter.
She slapped at it and tried to pull it out from under her shirt. She lost the medallion, as it fell beside her. "NO!" She frantically tried to recover it as she laughed and struck apparently ineffectual blows.
The avenging spirit devoured her revived laughter. His fingers expertly teased her ribs and slipped under her arms. There, he poked her tender hollows as she flailed and howled. She was SO ticklish everywhere, he revelled. He'd soon have her completely helpless, and would tickle every last giggle out of her. He'd tickle the life out of her and then her strong, lovely body would be his! He'd be free of this weak and stupid little vessel he was trapped in.
Despite her hilarious jerks, she finally seized the medallion. She grunted as she strained to slip the necklace over the little horror's head. He violently shook his head to prevent her, even as his little fingers tickled her hips and her belly. She almost did it once...again almost...again, not quite. Giggling, shouting, "HAHAHAHA! SHIHIHIT! STAY STIHIHIHILL! HAHAHAHAA!"
His head slipped back inside her shirt, and, she felt his creepy little tongue dart in-and-out of her belly button. "NOOOHAHAHAHAAAA!" As he lickled her navel, his ten fingers teased her sides, tickling her up-and-down, up-and down, making her howl hilariously. The contrasting light tickly navel licks and intense rib-tickling made her breathless with laughter. Her heart beat wildly, her arms and legs flailed. And the medallion again tumbled heedlessly to the carpet.
The doll mercilessly, tirelessly tickled Lori. She laughed and laughed, her mouth wide open and eyes squeezed shut, leaking flowing tears. For her, time has ceased. She now only knew ten tiny fingers and one snaky little tongue tickling her to death...
******
A few hours later, Lori, dressed sharply in a navy suit with white piping, skyblue pinstriped blouse, blue patterned tights, and stacked white heels, knocked at the office door of Jacklynne, who was wearing an equally impressive tailored black suit, crisp, white blouse, black nylons, and polished black and white high heels. Her copious red curls lustrous, Jacklynne looked up from a last-minute review of the materials for the presentation she'd be making at the sales meeting in a short while.
"Lori," Jacklynne said, warily, closing her portfolio. "You, uh, made it, huh?" She smiled hesitantly.
Lori nodded and said, "Oh, yes, indeed! I'm rarin' to go." She winked. "I just wanted to thank you for your little good luck present." She set a little paper shopping bag on Jacklynne's desk, and removed from it the little doll, which was stiff and smiling with a glassy expression, its black and white feathers clenched in its little fists.
Jacklynne rose and nervously said, "Oh, hehheh, I, ah, see you got it." She was both relieved, and a little disappointed, to see that the doll was wearing the medallion. It was harmless now, but it obviously had been like that throughout the previous night. The magic it supposedly held had failed. She shrugged. "Hehheh. It was just a little joke."
Lori smiled and toyed with the medallion as she said, "I can't tell you how this tickled me. I laughed and laughed. It's so, hehheh, ridiculous!"
Jacklynne chuckled, "Hehheh. Just a little goofy gamesmanship. I was just messing with your head." She held out her hand. "Peace?"
Lori shook it and said, "Sure." She held the handshake. "Listen, Jacklynne...Jacki, I think our little feud had gone far enough. No matter who makes the winning presentation today, we're still going to be working together, and I want it to be as friends. I'd like to invite you for dinner so we can get to know each other better."
Jacklynne glanced at the doll before squeezing Lori's hand again and saying, "Well, this--this IS a surprise."
"Yeah, we've been clawing at each other for months, huh." Lori finally let go and made a clawing gesture. "But, I'm serious. However you meant this..."--She indicated the doll.--"...I was...touched, and I'd like to return the favor. With my guy out of town, I'm free tonight. Why not come over for dinner?"
"Well..."
"Aw, c'mon! It'll be cozy. Just the two of us." She patted the doll's head. "Goofy won't mind."
"Hehheh," Jacklynne giggled. "OK! I'll bring the wine. We'll need it after THIS meeting."
"Ooo, you said it! Will I be glad when it's OVER! Anyway, good luck, Jacki!"
"You, too, Lori!"
The meeting began a short time later, and both women made impressive presentations. The CEO thanked them both and announced that a decision for Director of S&M (The room laughed.) would be made by the end of the following week.
At 8 that evening, Jacklynne, still in her work clothes, knocked at the door of Lori's home.
Lori opened the door and the two women exchanged air kisses. Jacki handed Lori a chilled bottle of Chardonnay. Lori, who had doffed her jacket and her shoes, directed Jacki to kick off her shoes and sit on the couch. "Thanks! These heels were killing me!" Jacki said, freeing her stocking feet and wiggling her toes. "You were nice to invite me." Lori padded on her stocking feet into the kitchen with the bottle. She called back, "You were nice to come."
Jacki called into the kitchen, "Can I help?" She was staring at the doll standing on the coffee table.
Lori called out, "No. Just relax." The cork popped.
Jacki considered the golden medallion on the doll. She loudly offered, "Your presentation was terrific, Lor'." Her gaze fell to the black and white feathers the doll was holding, and she shivered, clenching her toes nervously. She shook her head. She was being silly, she knew.
"So was yours," Lori replied from the kitchen. "They'll probably flip a coin next week to determine who's Sales' boss."
She padded back in holding two half-filled wine glasses. "Dinner is being kept warm, for whenever we're ready." She sat next to Jacki, and handed her a glass.
Jacki sipped the wine, smiled, and set the glass on the table next to the doll. She stretched langourously. "It's so GOOD to let go of all that STRESS! Both the meeting AND the bad feeling between us. I thought you hated me."
Lori sipped her wine, holding her glass with both hands as she reclined, "And I thought you intended to cast a spell on me. To ruin my chances."
Jacki chuckled, "Hehheh! Really? Hehhehheh. You're making me laugh!" She crossed her stocking legs and flexed her raised left foot.
"Mmm-hmm," Lori murmured, glancing at Jacki's wiggling toes. "Your feet still ache?"
"Yeah, hehheh!" Jacki giggled. "I hope that you aren't going to suggest we go dancing."
"Here," Lori said. She said her glass down next to the doll and pulled Jacki's raised foot into her lap. Jacki began to protest, "No, it's all funky!" But Lori shushed her, and began to gently but firmly massage her guest's stocking foot.
"OOOOOOOO!" Jacklynne gushed. "That feels SO good!" She leaned back and sighed, closing her eyes as Lori silently and expertly massaged her foot for long, lovely minutes. After Lori had her practically moaning, Jacki put her OTHER foot into Lori's lap. With a wink, Lori began gently massaging the other one.
Jacki purred. The combination of her long day, the wine, and Lori's warm hands were easily disarming her. She forced open her eyes, saw the doll, and chuckled. "Hehhehheh."
"Am I tickling you?" asked Lori, still massaging.
"Believe me," Jacki replied, "you'd know it if you were. I'm INSANELY ticklish everywhere, ESPECIALLY my feet." She wiggled her toes in Lori's lap.
"Ah!" Lori offered, still carefully massaging.
"No, I was giggling because of the feathers that dumb doll is holding." She chuckled again. "I can't believe I fell for the story that old woman in the botanica told me...that this doll could make people laugh." She felt dreamy. "I paid her, and had her deliver it to you, hoping that it would somehow spook you and keep you awake last night so you'd blow your presentation. Crazy, right?"
Lori glanced up from her massaging and smiled, echoing, "Crazy."
"Besides being crazy," Jacki continued, "it's so MEAN! Imagine wishing someone would be tickled all night." She shivered. "I'd DIE if it were done to me."
"Oh?" Lori asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Yeah, hehheh," Jacklynne murmured, feeling a bit woozy. She just then noticed that two feathers, one white and one black, were poking out from between the second two buttons of Lori's blouse. "Teehee! I JUST noticed! You've got feathers, too! Don't they, like, tickle you?"
Lori's eyes began to glow. "No, they don't tickle...me..." She raised her right leg and crossed it atop her left, pinning Jacklynne's ankles snugly between them. "Not...me..." Her mouth curled slowly into a chilling, toothsome grin.
Jacki giggled, "Hehhehhey!" Her flesh got goose pimply when she realized that she couldn't move her tender, stocking feet from Lori's iron scissorshold. "Lori?"
The avenging spirit plucked the feathers from between his host's breasts and, with them, began to tickle Jacklynne's helpless soles. "L-Lori? Hehhehheh Dohohon't! You're-hehheh-you're hahaha t-tihihickling meheehee! Ahhahahahaaaa!"
He thrilled at the thought of torturously tickling the life out of another deliciously ticklish woman over another long, lovely evening...so soon...such laughter...
"NOHAHAHAHAHA! PLEEHEEHEEHEEEESE! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!"
-Fin-
*Eons ago, I wrote a little tickle chiller titled “Five Fingers” for TALES FROM THE ASYLUM. Its basic plot was “ticklish woman alone meets her greatest fear and/or fondest desire.” It was inspired by a classic horror movie, and, like that film, posited that the threat was only in the eye of the beholder—at least until the coda of my story.
I figured that enough time had elapsed so I might shamelessly exploit this formula again. Ticklish woman alone…check. Relentless and apparently supernatural tickler…check. Questioning whether it’s a dream or reality…check. Situation, ah, inspired by a classic movie…check. (By the way, I’m curious to know if anyone recognizes the source of my, ah, inspiration.)
I had intended this for Halloween, but, well…Happy Washington's Birthday!
"Homunculus"
By Tee Hee Lawrence
The package was on her doorstep when Lorinda returned home from work. It was about 12 inches long and two-thirds-that wide and wrapped in plain brown paper. It bore no return address, just her calligraphic name on a gift card. She picked it up and brought it inside.
She'd had a long day at the office, a long month really. She'd been working hard on a presentation that she would be making tomorrow before the top company brass. Jacklynne, a longtime rival in the sales department, would also be making a presentation. It was understood that the winner would earn promotion to Director of Sales and Marketing, replacing the retiring incumbent.
Jacklynne had been brazenly predicting that she would win the competition. She had even cheekily told Lori that there would still be a place for Lori in Sales once Jacklynne became boss.
Lori, irritated, had blurted to her rival, "Don't make me LAUGH!"
Jacklynne gave her an icy look and assured her, "BELIEVE me, Lorinda! There's NOTHING I wouldn't do to get that position."
And Lori DID laugh at that, right in Jacklynne's face. “Hahaha! Nothing is RIGHT! You just TICKLE me, Jacklynne. I’m SO scared of you that I can’t sleep at night for laughing. Ha. Ha. Ha.”
"That Jacklynne's a witch," she chuckled now, remembering the venomous look in her older, full-figured redheaded rival's dark eyes. "No WAY is she getting that promotion over me! I don't care what voodoo she tries to pull."
She kicked off her heels and padded on stocking feet into the living room, where she placed the package on the coffee table. She sat back on the couch with a sigh of relief, crossing her nicely-toned legs on the table next to the package. She swept back her relaxed long hair, brown with blond highlights, checking her messages while idly wiggling her toes under the lacy nylon.
Her boyfriend Quinn, whom she had talked to all too briefly during lunch, sent photos from Zurich, where he had travelled for his bank. She would have loved to call him, but figured that he was sleeping, so contented herself with an affectionate text.
The phone chirped. It was Tazmina, her best friend since grade school.
“Hey, Taz!”
“Yo’, girl! We still on for dinner Friday night?”
“’Course we are! I haven’t forgotten that I creamed you on the court Sunday.” Lori had won their last weekly tennis match.
“I STILL say your last serve was long.”
“Oh, is that why you sent me this bomb?”
“Huh?”
“I found a package at my door when I got home. I figured it might be from you.”
“Uh-uh, Lor’. Not me! What is it?”
“I don’t know what it is. I don’t know who it’s from. I haven’t opened it.”
“Probably a goodie from your guy. Prob'ly a French tickler to wind your mainspring. Damn! He’s a sweetie! These days, I only get something on Mother’s Day, and it’s a damn pot holder or something.”
“Uh-huh! You’re breakin’ my heart. I SAW that necklace Don got you for your anniversary last month, remember?”
They giggled and chatted about this and that for a while before Tazmina blurted, “Uh-oh. Hubby’s back with the boys. ‘Later, Lori!”
“’Later, LOSER! Hehhehheh!”
Lori returned a couple of calls and exchanged a few texts before the package caught her attention again. She leaned forward to grab it and set it in her lap. It was curious that there was no indication on the wrapping of the sender. The gift card simply bore her name and a lenticular smilie sticker that laughed when she moved it. That disarmed her wariness and made her chuckle. It would be just like Quinn to surprise her with something while he was away. Maybe it was an orchid, or a stylish pair of ballet flats. Or maybe it was something naughty, like an erotic baked good in the shape of.... Considering the size of the package, she snorted at THAT thought.
So, with some eagerness, she undid the knot in the twine and ripped off the brown paper, revealing a plain shoe box. “Ah-ha!” she thought. “I was right! Darling Quinn bought me shoes.”
She raised the lid of the box and gasped. Nestled in red tissue paper therein was a doll, about 10 inches tall. She lifted it out of the box and settled back with it onto the couch. She saw that it was a handsome little fellow, perfectly articulated, rich brown in color and clad in belted black shorts. It had shining black curls down to its shoulders. Its dark eyes were large and round, but unfocused. Its closed thin lips were set in a pleasant smile. The doll bore a tattoo of crossed feathers, one light, one dark, across its chest. It was holding by its sides two fluffy six-inch feathers—one white, the other black—one in each hand. Around its neck was a golden chain, from which hung a small oval golden medallion engraved with yet another feather.
The doll looked so silly clutching the feathers that it made Lori giggle. She spoke to it. "What a cute li'l' guy!" She playfully poked its tummy and hooked a finger onto the waistband of its shorts and peered inside. "Ooooo! You're cute ALL over, aren't you? Hehhehheh!" She chuckled as she pet its ebon hair and stroked the tattoo on its smooth chest. "You're hilarious! You just TICKLE me, li'l' guy!"
Her phone rang. It was Quinn!
"Can't sleep, lover?"
Sounding a bit tipsy, Quinn said, "Helloooo! I’m out with some folks from our London and Berlin offices. They're way better drinkers than me."
"I'M a way better drinker than you. Remember our first date? You had one glass of wine and I had to drive YOU home."
"Yeah, yeah. Well, we're in the hotel bar, so I can weave my way to bed."
"Good. As long as it's YOUR bed."
"I'll send you corro-corrob-corrobo--video as evidence."
"See that you DO! Anyway, 'thanks’ for the present, hon’. You shouldn’t have—and I mean that sincerely."
"Huh? How would you know I bought you a present? I'm not home yet."
"You can’t kid me! You sent me this as a 'good luck charm' for my presentation tomorrow."
As she diddled with the medallion, its chain broke, and tumbled into her lap.
"Oops! Hehheh!" she chuckled.
"Oops?"
"I managed to break this present that you didn’t send me."
"Describe this present that I didn’t send you."
She stood the doll on the coffee table, and sat back, again resting her stocking feet next to it. "Ooo-kay! You didn't send me this li'l' stud holding a feather in each hand and wearing a silly medallion that I just broke off."
"Right. JUST the thing you’d expect from me."
"C’mon, Quinn! Who else knows how TICKLISH I am? Besides, you’ve got a strange sense of humor."
"Not THAT strange. Anyway, 'bout your presentation, you're gonna nail it AND the promotion.
"Awww! Thanks, hon'!" she gushed, her brown eyes glistening.
"Oh, sorry, Lor’, I gotta go! Another German toast! We'll solve the mystery when I get back. I love you!'
"I love you, too, babe! See you Friday!"
Sighing at the prospect of her empty bed, Lori rubbed her stocking feet together on the table as she scrolled through more messages. Her left foot brushed against something. She gasped and jerked her foot back, knocking the doll over. "Heeeyhahaha! Watch those feathers, handsome!" She chuckled and picked the doll up. "How'dja know my feet are 5-alarm ticklish?"
She playfully poked its tummy and said aloud, "'Careful, boy! I can tickle back. Ask Quinn." "Who sent you, huh? Talk or else!" She gave the soles of its tiny feet a tickle. "Tough guy, eh? Hehhehheh."
"‘Funny," she thought, puzzled as she squeezed it. "It felt cool and hard before. Now, it’s warmer and softer, somehow.*And I may be crazy, but it seems to be smiling even more! Jeez, hehheh, I'm spacing out from hunger!"
She stood the doll back on the table. She plucked the medallion and chain from her lap and tossed it at its feet. "'Sorry 'bout your jewelry, doll. I need a nice hot shower and some Lean Cuisine. See ya!"
She went into the bedroom, undressed, and luxuriated under a steamy shower, humming all the while.
She did not hear, then, the tiny heart within the doll beating, nor hear it gently breathing. She did not observe its eerie black eyes gain focus and become luminous, nor witness it slowly turn its head towards the sounds of her humming in the shower, as its smile became a wicked, sharp-toothed grin.
Fifteen minutes later, wearing an oversized Serena Williams tee shirt, Wonder Woman boxer shorts and fuchsia Crocs flip-flops, she breezed through the living room and into the kitchen. Preoccupied with toweling her hair, she failed to notice that the doll was no longer on the coffee table.
Making quick work microwaving a chicken teriyaki entrée and mixing a glass of instant sweet lemon tea, she returned to the couch to enjoy her supper as she selected from her Netflix queue. She’d been eating for a few minutes when it dawned upon her that the doll was gone from the table. Only the gold medallion and severed chain remained.
"Huh," she thought. "Dumb thing must've fallen off." She took a swig of tea and knelt down to look for it. It wasn't under the table. She chuckled, "Heh. Where are you hiding, guy? Don’t tell me you bounced under the couch.”
She got down on her hands and knees and peered under the couch. She spotted it lying on its side halfway to the wall. Despite the dark, its eyes seemed to glow at her. She muttered, "Now, HOW did you manage to get all the way back THERE?" She reached under but it was just beyond her fingers. She sat back on her haunches and blew a stray strawberry-scented bang out of her eyes. The couch was a solid piece of oak furniture, and was a nuisance to move. “Huh! You can just stay there, then. That’s probably the best place for such a silly thing like you anyway.”
She finished her supper, but was too tired to watch all of her show. She dutifully dragged her sleepy self to the kitchen to wash her supper things. Flicking off lights, she muttered, “‘Night, doll. I’m goin’ to bed. Big day tomorrow.” Out of habit, when Quinn was away, she closed the bedroom door behind her. The doll was no longer under the couch.
Lori kicked off her Crocs and happily slid between the sheets under the down comforter of her double bed. She checked her messages one last time, then set her phone on the bedside table, before turning off the light, and settling her head on her pillow with a contented sigh. She was so tired that she barely indulged in another theatrical sigh, this one of self-pity that Quinn wasn’t beside her.
It wasn’t long before she had drifted off to sleep. Under the bed, where the edge of the comforter nearly met the carpeted floor, two little glowing eyes peered out. A few minutes later, after Lori had surrendered to soft snores, the eyes peeked over the far side of the bedside table. Tiny hands reached out far enough to bat Lori’s phone onto the carpet below. In short order, the phone was dragged behind the edge of the comforter.
Moments after, at the foot of the bed, near the floor, a small shape bulged the comforter. The shape slowly moved up the end of the bed until it arrived atop, between Lori’s feet, which were soles up, about 12 inches apart as she dozed, snoring faintly, on her tummy. She was oblivious to the shape at her feet as she slid into an erotic dream, softly muttering, “Ooooh, Quinn…yeah, baby…!”
Under the comforter, a small, shadowed figure reached out to the warmth on both sides and ran five tiny but strong fingers along the sheet covering Lori’s feet. Lori murmured, “Hehheh.” She wiggled her toes and moved her feet a bit further apart, but didn’t awake. The avenging spirit removed the black feather from his belt, where he had tucked the plumes after reviving. He used the nub of the plume to make tiny holes in the sheet beside both feet. Replacing the feather, he then worked his strong fingers into the holes and ripped openings large enough for him to put his hands through the sheet.
A rich scent of cocoa butter wafted through the sheet from Lori’s skin. That, and her warmth, still moist from her long shower, guided him as his eager little fingers found the soft curves of her insteps. The fingertips slid from the sides of her heels down to the tips of her big toes. Her feet twitched, and, though still asleep, she stirred, smiled, and muttered, “Hehheh. Don’ tickle my feet, hon’.”
The fingers pulled back for a moment, then returned to flutter delicately upon her arches. Lori tittered faintly and rolled onto her right side, pulling her feet slightly back. He was thrilled, and his dark eyes indeed seemed to glow. She was very warm and tender and very, very ticklish. He would harvest much laughter from her and grow stronger. That was his purpose. As she laughed, she would grow weaker. This was her curse, for unleashing the spirit of "He Who Makes Laughter" from this innocuous shell into which he'd been contained after being invoked.
His features twisted now into a fiendish aspect, the demonic doll ripped the left hole wider so that he could slip his torso through it. In the eerie amber light of his glowing eyes, he reached out for her soft, wrinkly soles, which he lightly tickled two handed. She, dreaming wetly, giggled softly and muttered, “Hehheh. Stop, Quinn! Heh. ‘Tickles!” She settled onto her back, repositioning her feet so her right toes actually slipped through the smaller hole in the sheet.
Pulling back outside the sheet, he plucked the white feather from his belt and teased her exposed, beestung toes. “Hehhehhehhehstahahahp, hon’!” She nearly awakened, but instead pulled her foot back and rolled onto her left side. Repositioning, she happened to slip her left foot clear to her ankle through the larger hole in the sheet.
His eyes now glowing enough to brightly illuminate her fetching foot, the avenging spirit gripped her toes with surprising strength and brushed her left sole from toes to heel. “Teeheenonoheeheehee!” Lori tittered and giggled as she sleepily tried to pull her foot back through the hole. Relentless, her tiny tickler fiercely feathered her soft, ticklish flesh. “Teeheeheehee!” Surfacing giggly from her slumber, Lori still could not yank her foot free.
Giggles bubbling, Lori’s eyes sleepily opened and she murmured, “Hehhehheh, Quihihinn! Youhoo know I’ma tick-lish! Beheeheeast! Hehhehhehheh!” Eyes brilliant, grin fiercer, the doll energetically tickled her tender sole, greedily craving every giggle. Lori’s foot jerked but was still trapped.
Awake now, Lori rose onto her elbows to curse out her lover. “Hahaha you ba--!” Her breath caught as she remembered, “Waitaminnut! Quinn’s in Europe! Then, what’s--?” Still being tickled, she couldn’t help giggling as she fumbled for the bedside light switch. Her foot was tangled in the sheet, and something was pinching her toes while something else tickly slid up and down her sole, really, really tickling. She couldn’t stop giggling, and couldn't help laughing out loud a little.
“HeeheeheehahahaHAAAA!” She managed to turn the lamp on. Laughing as she still futilely tried to pull her foot away, she was stunned to see a bulge in the comforter near her feet. “Wha—hahhahaaah! What the Hehhehhell--?” Fighting the terribly persistent tickling, she grabbed two fistfuls of comforter and yanked it back, back, back until she beheld her left foot poking through the sheet—and with a frisson of terror—the little doll gripping and feathering it! It gave her a quick glance with eerily glowing eyes and leered horribly as it intently tickled her.
Lori let loose a panicked yell—peppered with hysterical giggles--and forcefully pulled her foot back through the sheet. She yelped as she beheld the doll tucking the feathers in its belt and diving through the hole after her retreating foot. Transfixed, she saw its shape moving under the sheet, and then felt it suddenly upon her and then UNDER her voluminous shirt. When its questing, fierce little fingers clutched at her bare belly, her giggles exploded into a scream.
“EEEEEEAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHANOOOO!” The damnable doll was tickling her with all its Hellish might. She howled with hapless hilarity as, uncomprehending, she shouted, “HAHAHOW-HOW CAN THIS BEHEE HAHAPPEHEHHEHNING?!?”
She shoved the comforter to her right as she pushed herself to her left, trying to yank her legs free from the tangled, tattered sheet. As she slid, screaming with laughter, off the side of the bed, she tried desperately to dislodge the doll out from under her shirt. Her butt hit the carpet and her long, flailing legs stretched over the bed as she screeched and slapped at her little tickler. Now that she was in this position, it slid forward, its breath hot on her tits while its busy little fingers slid up her sides and settled into her armpits, tickling her tenaciously. “YEEEEEHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAGEHEHEHETOFFFF!”
The avenging spirit reveled in rendering this woman helpless. His strong fingers moved like quicksilver down her sides and up again, there to maliciously massage the ticklish tenderness within her hollows despite her feeble attempts to bat him off. His eyes blazed and he grinned fiendishly. Her howls of hilarity made his life force stronger, fueling his hunger to tease her ripe, sensuous body until he ripped every breath of laughter from her.
Beset by unbelievable evil, Lori was both babbling in terror and spasming with laughter. Racing, her mind cried, “What are you? Hahahahahaaa! Where did you come from? Heheheheheheh! Why are you tickling meeeeeeheeheeheeeeeeee?” Or she was shouting…she didn’t know. All she knew was the little monster was really tickling her tits and under her arms and between her ribs and across her tummy while she screamed with laughter and tried with all her flagging strength to grab it and make it stop!
Finally, when it seemed it would keep tickling her, literally to death, she gained a firm hold upon its creepy legs. Still giggling, she somehow dragged it out and, with a bellow, flung it across the room. She frantically got to her feet and reached for her phone. Not seeing it on the table where she’d placed it, she moaned, “Nooo, oh, noooo! Where? Where IS it?”
Exulting triumphantly, the doll clambered over the far side of the bed and glared at her. Lori screamed. It was between her and the door. She couldn’t be sure that she could reach the door AND open it before it would be upon her. She couldn’t bear the thought of feeling its creepy little fingers tickle her again. She had to find her phone and call for help. Then she’d somehow have to fend it off until help came.
She saw her tennis racket lying on the bureau behind her. She was grateful that she’d been lazy on Sunday and left it there after her game with Tazmina. She grasped it and turned to face the ugly doll, which had jumped off the bed and was advancing towards her. Grunting, she swung backhanded with all her might and caught square the little horror, sending it somersaulting over the bed and across the room. It slammed headfirst against the far wall, against which it seemed to stick for long seconds before sliding down and settling face down onto the carpet, where it lay still. “Take THAT, you little creep!” shouted Lori, gasping and vibrating from adrenaline.
She dropped the racket, and scanned the room desperately. “’Gotta find my phone.” She was under no illusion that she’d finished the doll. She needed to call for help. She got on her hands and knees, peering under the bedside table, and then under the bed.
She didn’t see her phone at first, but spotted it actually tucked amidst the bedsprings near the headboard. “How the Hell--?” She shivered when she realized the doll had hidden it there. She quickly rose to her knees and saw that the damned thing was still quiet, face down.
Lori extended her arm under the bed, but couldn’t reach back far enough to touch the phone. She recovered the racket and probed with it under the bed, trying to dislodge the phone, without luck. She was so intent that she didn’t notice, across the room, the doll stir, dizzily shake its head, and begin to rise, its eyes flashing with anger.
The avenging spirit was incensed at this indignity. The woman had dared to strike his person. Oh, she would pay! He would reclaim her and, this time, make her laugh until she was spent and he was stronger than ever!
Frustrated, it dawned on Lori to use her long legs. She sat on the carpet and eased her bare legs under the bed. It was a tight fit, but she was able to squeeze in up to her hips. With her tee shirt ridden up to her tits, she lay back on the carpet and began to feel under the bedframe with her toes. She felt the phone, which she tried to jiggle free by wiggling her toes. After a few tense moments, the phone tumbled between her ankles. “Thank you, God!” she muttered, relaxing while she surveyed the ceiling.
It was then that a pair of menacing eyes glowered at her over the side of the bed.
Lori screamed, “NOOOOOOO!” trying to scoot back from under the bed. But, to her horror, she realized that wasn’t easy. She screamed, “AIIIIEEEEEE!” as the doll dropped over the side and attacked her exposed ticklish sides with its inhumanly strong fingers. “AIIIIEEEEEEAHHAHAHAHAHAAAA!” Ticklish terror primed her to shriek peals of laughter, but still she fought her tiny attacker with all her might. She slapped at its horrible head and tried to grab its wicked hands. She was so ticklish, however, that her defense was hampered, and this fueled her terror, and perversely, her laughter. And the terrible thing seemed stronger than before. It seemed less affected by her blows and more resistant to her attempts to get ahold of it.
The avenging spirit thrilled in his tickling of his prey. His masterful fingers alternately snakily stroked her sides, powerfully poked between her ribs and cunningly caressed under her arms. He drank in her hysterical laughter, which made him stronger by the guffaw, and even more determined to tickle her. Her efforts against him were annoying, but, with each passing moment, she laughed more, and fought less. His face was a mask of evil triumphant.
Overcome by ticklish laughter, Lori’s grip on her tormentor loosened, and her hands floundered to the carpet at her sides. She might truly then have been tickled to death by the demonic doll, but for the object her right hand settled upon: one of her Croc sandals. She grasped it. Roaring with heroic effort, she clocked the doll with the Croc. Stunned, it stopped tickling long enough for her to Croc it again. It staggered, giving her the moment to finally seize it and, with a loud grunt, thrust it onto the bed. When its ghastly grin immediately reappeared over the side of the bed, with all her might, she hurled the Croc at it. The shoe smashed its nose and it fell back, out of sight.
Her tummy still aching from laughing, she muttered, “Damn it! I’ve gotta get that phone NOW!” Empowered by her chilled certainty of its imminent, inexorable recovery, she finally yanked her legs out from under the bed and immediately crawled head first back under. The dusty space, littered with shoes and other junk, induced claustrophobia, and the carpet made crawling a challenge. Her panic, however, urged her on, even allowing her to squeeze her healthy butt underneath. She finally secured the phone, with only her lower legs exposed beyond the bed.
Before she even had the presence of mind to make a call, though, the doll burst under the comforter on the other side and grabbed the phone. Lori screamed, slapped at the doll, and tried to yank her phone back away from it. “AIIIIIIEEEE! No-you-don’t--!” However, she couldn’t maneuver well in the tight space and its inhuman strength allowed it to pull it from her hand. “NOOOOOOO! You little--! Give that BACK!” The doll grinned in triumph at her and disappeared with her phone beyond the comforter.
As she swore muffled curses and flexed her feet with frustration below him, the avenging spirit brandished his prize atop the bed. “The woman had thought that her blows could stop a avenging spirit. Hah! But I am the stronger—and I claimed the prize!” He chuckled as he oh-so-cleverly hid his prize upon her bed under where she lays her lovely head. Now, peering over the edge of the bed, he relished the view of her struggling legs and her unprotected, upturned bare soles below. At last, he would make her laugh until he was invincible!
Panicking, Lori realized, with her butt snugly wedged underneath, that she was going to have a hard time getting out. She’d been futilely trying, for a few moments, to move forward or back when she felt something land upon her exposed calves. “OhGodNO! NonoNOOOO!” The damned doll was straddling her ankles and effectively weighing them to the carpet. She couldn’t raise or move her feet enough to dislodge him. “How could this little shit be SO STRONG?” she thought, before moaning, “OOOOHHHHNOOO!” It wasn’t going to do what she was afraid of, would it?
“Get the Hell off me!” she shouted, muffled under the bed.
Eyes aflame, grin flashing, the avenging spirit, sitting firmly on her ankles, surveyed the pink, wrinkly expanses of the soft soles of her absolutely helpless, deliciously ticklish bare feet. He drew the two feathers from his belt and began to drag their tickly plumes with sadistic slowness back from her scrunching toes and up to her heels and down again, over and over.
“NOHOHOHOHOOOO! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAP!”
He teased the tips of her clenched toes, and, when they reflexively relaxed, he firmly held down their bee stung pads. Taking his sweet time, relishing her hysteria, he painstakingly feathered every super sensitive millimeter under her exposed toes. and pushed the plumes between them, as she howled and her toes quivered in ticklish agony. Soaking up every decibel of her laughter, he then drew the feathers on a tickly, torturous course along every delectable wrinkle across and along her soles. He tantalized the touchy, deeply pink edges of her soles, and brushed the paler, more subtly-wrinkled curves of her arches. With the silken blades of the feathers, he dusted the hearts of her soles near her heels and used the feathery tips to teasingly circle the tender balls of her feet.
“OHPLEASEOHPLEEHEEHEEHEESE! NONONOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOOHOOHOOHOOHEEHEEHEEEEEE!”
Lori laughed and laughed and laughed as she felt the feathers mercilessly brush and nudge, poke and stroke, tickle and tease her haplessly exposed and horribly ticklish bare feet. She was still trying vainly to kick the doll away, to pull her legs in, or to push herself back out, but helpless ticklish laughter poured out of her, almost completely weakening her efforts.
She completely lost it when the doll used the hard quills to scratch the wrinkles along her soles. She screamed as the doll fiendishly traced the faintest line from the bottoms of her toes to the rougher rise of her heels. She screeched when the tips skied the curves of her insteps. The bed above shook as the doll, for excruciating long moments, alternatively tickled her feet with the plumes and the quills of each feather, making her breathless with laughter.
HAHAHAHAHAHHA! (Gasp!)HEEHEEHEEHEEAHHAHAHAHAHA(Gasp!)HEEHEEHEEHEEHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAAAAAAA! (Gasp!)”
Infused with energy from her wild laughter, the avenging spirit was stronger than ever. The woman could hardly move her feet beneath him. He tucked the feathers back into his belt, and, leering, wiggled his fingers tantalizingly just above her long, wrinkly soles.
Exhausted, sweaty, and breathing raggedly, Lori nonetheless collected herself long enough to try to somehow reason with the thing. “OhGodstop! Stop it, you—you THING! PLEASE stop tickling me! I can’t STAND it! Please stop tickling my POOR feet. Please! Please? I’m SO ticklish there! You’re KILLING me! Please stop! Please?” She was so desperate to buy time enough to gather breath and strength to free herself that she babbled in like fashion for long, demeaning moments.
The avenging spirit‘s fingers hovered just above Lori’s soft, pinkened soles as he listened without an ounce of pity to her piteous pleas. His grin widened and heart swelled with cruelty as he began to ever-so-slowly run his forefingers down her soles, with his ears pricked up.
"Nohehheh! Noho! Noheheh, pleeheese! Dohon't dohoo thahat! Hehheheheheh! Stahahppit!"
He continued this slow torture for several minutes as her pleas collapsed into incoherent laughter. Suddenly, he dug ten tenacious tiny fingers into her soft flesh and rigorously stroked her suffering soles as she keened hysterically.
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEYAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAA!"
After endless minutes of this savage tickling, he whirled upon her legs and began to dance his wicked fingers up the insides of her legs, past her knees, until he was leeringly teasing her trembling thighs. While five fingers continued this torment, he wielded one feather so that it slipped under her shorts and stroked her passion.
“NOOOOOEEEEEEEHEEEEEHEEEEEEEHEEEEEEE! AHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!”
Accentuating Lori’s hysteria was the disconcerting feeling –under her laughter and terror—that she was indeed getting more than a little TURNED-ON by this ruthless, incredible tickler. When Quinn tickled her in bed, it really fired her up. Now, despite—or maybe BECAUSE of--her helpless position, she could feel the flames of her passionate pleasure center being perversely stoked with every tickly stroke. His fingers and feather were all too horribly threatening to cause her bod--already horny with longing for Quinn--to betray her.
She dampened this feeling, as best she could, with the equally disconcerting thought that she still didn’t know who’d sent this monster to her, and why. As she squealed with laughter and gasped as her screws of excitement were teasingly tightened, she nonetheless realized that if she surrendered to this creature's tickling--and gave herself to the pleasure it promised, she'd never make it to her presentation in a few short hours. The damned thing would tickle and pleasure her to utter exhaustion--maybe to death!
Suddenly, through her hilarity, she KNEW who had sent this horror to her--and why! That certainty gave her the desperate, determined burst of strength needed to free herself.
First, before trying one last time to pull herself (and her exposed bare legs and feet) forward and fully under the bed, she pushed herself, in spite of her tightly tucked tush, BACK. This allowed her knees to get out from under. With that, she was able to jerk her feet up, thus pitching the doll, preoccupied maliciously tickling between her thighs, into a vaulting arc ending with a thwack against the ceiling. It crashed down onto the bed, where its glassy expression and inability to command its limbs proved it inert--for the moment.
Praying that she'd sent the little fucker flying far and hard enough, Lori then grunted as she took a deep, ragged breath and pulled herself--and her full ass--forward under the bed. The dusty carpet making her sneeze, she plowed past worn cross-trainers, odd socks, and a lost sexual toy as she gritted her teeth and dragged herself forward. The bed frame scratched her scalp, shoulders and butt. Her head pushed past the comforter as, terrified that the doll would again ambush her, she pulled herself out from under.
Standing unsteadily, she glanced behind her to see the doll stirring back to coherence on the bed. "FUCK!" she barked, as she leaped to the bedroom door and slammed it shut behind her.
After a few moments, she relaxed her stranglehold on the doorknob. She thought, "My phone--!" She wasn't going back in there to find it. She looked down at her torn, sweat-soaked shirt and shorts. She wasn't going back in there for a change of clothes, either. She ruefully remembered that her purse--with her car keys--and her laptop were in there, too.
There was a thud against the bottom of the door. She staggered back. There was another thud, and another.
She pressed against the door, as if to judge its sturdiness. She didn't know if the damned thing could open the door, but it certainly wasn't strong enough to smash through it. "Right?" she thought. The thuds continued relentlessly as she stared at the door and slowly backed away from it.
She practically fell back onto the couch. She was suddenly aware of her exhaustion. She felt like she could lie down and close her eyes and sleep and wake up to a bright morning and the relieved feeling that she had been dreaming--
Another loud thud at the bedroom door and she opened her eyes and sat upright. She had to get out of here. No matter her near nakedness, she'd run to a neighbor and call 911. It was the only thing to do. Now. They'd think her a madwoman, perhaps strung out or drunk, with a story of a demon doll that wouldn't stop tickling her. Right. Maybe she should just say that there was an intruder. No need to tell them it was a foot high. She'd just say a violent intruder. God, if they have on body cams and this gets on YouTube, I can kiss off the promotion.
The thuds continued. She took a deep breath, and was about to steel herself and stand and run out for help, when she noticed something glinting on the coffee table.
It was the golden medallion, with the feather etched upon it, that had been hanging from the doll's neck when she'd unwrapped it. Coiled around it was its broken chain. Lori picked up the chain and considered the medallion. She hadn't noticed that the thumping at the bedroom door had stopped.
"It had just been a stupid doll when it was wearing this," she thought. "After this broke off, weird shit starting happening." She was unaware of the slight movements of the knob of the bedroom door. "I wonder..." She glanced at the door. It was still.
She leaped up and ran into the kitchen. She got on her knees and opened the cabinet under the sink. She pulled out a toolbox. Flinging it open, she rustled through it until she found a tube of super adhesive. She uncapped it and squeezed a dollop onto one end of the chain and held it to the other end. She blew on the mend, as much with magical thinking as with drying intent.
At the bedroom door, the knob slowly turned until a click sounded. There was a thump on the other side. Creaking faintly, the door eased open a few inches. Near the base, bright, hungry eyes peered into the living room.
Still on her knees by the kitchen sink, Lori dandled upon her forefinger the medallion on its mended chain. She thought, "If I can somehow get this around that little bastard's neck, maybe it'll just become a lifeless doll again. It'll stop tickling me."
She stood and took a deep breath, glancing out at the living room. "If I don't stop it, I'll never make it to the presentation. And Jacklynne will get the promotion." Her eyes narrowed. "She thought she was SO clever. The witch!"
She held up the medallion, glinting as it swayed before her eyes, flashing with purpose. "I'll shut the little creep down, and bring it with me to work." She smiled coldly. "'Bet the little fella will just LOVE finding out how ticklish SHE is."
Holding the medallion in her right hand and brandishing a stainless steel ladle in the other, she padded carefully on her still tingling bare feet into the living room. She was tiptoeing by the coffee table when she saw that the bedroom door was slightly open. Her breath caught as she dropped to her knees, scanning the floor in a panic. Where was the doll? WHERE WAS IT?
The avenging spirit cooly observed his prey. She was warily stalking him, but to no avail. She was much larger, yes. She was now certainly all too aware of how vulnerable she was, for she was armed, too. But there was all that ticklish flesh, barely protected by a few strips of clothing. And he was "He Who Makes Laughter." He removed the black feather from his belt and tensed his tiny muscles. This time, he would tickle her until she were totally his.
Lori's heart pounded. She couldn't find it. She didn't see it. She sprang to her feet and stepped to the bedroom door, beside which she flipped on the light switch. The living room was flooded with light from the ornamental ceiling fixture and two floor lamps on either side of the couch. She was focussed on the floor. She knelt to look under the couch, ready to brain the thing when it jumped out at her.
It wasn't under the couch. She quickly scanned the floor around her, when she became aware of a looming shadow on the carpet before her...a shadow that wasn't hers...
Suddenly the doll landed upon the back of her neck, having leaped from its hiding place, the lampshade of the floor lamp behind her. Lori screamed and bucked it off. However, off balance, she tumbled backwards while it quickly recovered. It pounced upon her and, before she could wield the ladle, crawled under her tee shirt. It began to fiercely tickle her middle with its strong fingers. She yelped and started to giggle. As it roughly tickled her tummy and ribs, its head poked through a tear in her shirt. She saw its evil eyes and horrible grin and she screamed with laughter.
She slapped at it and tried to pull it out from under her shirt. She lost the medallion, as it fell beside her. "NO!" She frantically tried to recover it as she laughed and struck apparently ineffectual blows.
The avenging spirit devoured her revived laughter. His fingers expertly teased her ribs and slipped under her arms. There, he poked her tender hollows as she flailed and howled. She was SO ticklish everywhere, he revelled. He'd soon have her completely helpless, and would tickle every last giggle out of her. He'd tickle the life out of her and then her strong, lovely body would be his! He'd be free of this weak and stupid little vessel he was trapped in.
Despite her hilarious jerks, she finally seized the medallion. She grunted as she strained to slip the necklace over the little horror's head. He violently shook his head to prevent her, even as his little fingers tickled her hips and her belly. She almost did it once...again almost...again, not quite. Giggling, shouting, "HAHAHAHA! SHIHIHIT! STAY STIHIHIHILL! HAHAHAHAA!"
His head slipped back inside her shirt, and, she felt his creepy little tongue dart in-and-out of her belly button. "NOOOHAHAHAHAAAA!" As he lickled her navel, his ten fingers teased her sides, tickling her up-and-down, up-and down, making her howl hilariously. The contrasting light tickly navel licks and intense rib-tickling made her breathless with laughter. Her heart beat wildly, her arms and legs flailed. And the medallion again tumbled heedlessly to the carpet.
The doll mercilessly, tirelessly tickled Lori. She laughed and laughed, her mouth wide open and eyes squeezed shut, leaking flowing tears. For her, time has ceased. She now only knew ten tiny fingers and one snaky little tongue tickling her to death...
******
A few hours later, Lori, dressed sharply in a navy suit with white piping, skyblue pinstriped blouse, blue patterned tights, and stacked white heels, knocked at the office door of Jacklynne, who was wearing an equally impressive tailored black suit, crisp, white blouse, black nylons, and polished black and white high heels. Her copious red curls lustrous, Jacklynne looked up from a last-minute review of the materials for the presentation she'd be making at the sales meeting in a short while.
"Lori," Jacklynne said, warily, closing her portfolio. "You, uh, made it, huh?" She smiled hesitantly.
Lori nodded and said, "Oh, yes, indeed! I'm rarin' to go." She winked. "I just wanted to thank you for your little good luck present." She set a little paper shopping bag on Jacklynne's desk, and removed from it the little doll, which was stiff and smiling with a glassy expression, its black and white feathers clenched in its little fists.
Jacklynne rose and nervously said, "Oh, hehheh, I, ah, see you got it." She was both relieved, and a little disappointed, to see that the doll was wearing the medallion. It was harmless now, but it obviously had been like that throughout the previous night. The magic it supposedly held had failed. She shrugged. "Hehheh. It was just a little joke."
Lori smiled and toyed with the medallion as she said, "I can't tell you how this tickled me. I laughed and laughed. It's so, hehheh, ridiculous!"
Jacklynne chuckled, "Hehheh. Just a little goofy gamesmanship. I was just messing with your head." She held out her hand. "Peace?"
Lori shook it and said, "Sure." She held the handshake. "Listen, Jacklynne...Jacki, I think our little feud had gone far enough. No matter who makes the winning presentation today, we're still going to be working together, and I want it to be as friends. I'd like to invite you for dinner so we can get to know each other better."
Jacklynne glanced at the doll before squeezing Lori's hand again and saying, "Well, this--this IS a surprise."
"Yeah, we've been clawing at each other for months, huh." Lori finally let go and made a clawing gesture. "But, I'm serious. However you meant this..."--She indicated the doll.--"...I was...touched, and I'd like to return the favor. With my guy out of town, I'm free tonight. Why not come over for dinner?"
"Well..."
"Aw, c'mon! It'll be cozy. Just the two of us." She patted the doll's head. "Goofy won't mind."
"Hehheh," Jacklynne giggled. "OK! I'll bring the wine. We'll need it after THIS meeting."
"Ooo, you said it! Will I be glad when it's OVER! Anyway, good luck, Jacki!"
"You, too, Lori!"
The meeting began a short time later, and both women made impressive presentations. The CEO thanked them both and announced that a decision for Director of S&M (The room laughed.) would be made by the end of the following week.
At 8 that evening, Jacklynne, still in her work clothes, knocked at the door of Lori's home.
Lori opened the door and the two women exchanged air kisses. Jacki handed Lori a chilled bottle of Chardonnay. Lori, who had doffed her jacket and her shoes, directed Jacki to kick off her shoes and sit on the couch. "Thanks! These heels were killing me!" Jacki said, freeing her stocking feet and wiggling her toes. "You were nice to invite me." Lori padded on her stocking feet into the kitchen with the bottle. She called back, "You were nice to come."
Jacki called into the kitchen, "Can I help?" She was staring at the doll standing on the coffee table.
Lori called out, "No. Just relax." The cork popped.
Jacki considered the golden medallion on the doll. She loudly offered, "Your presentation was terrific, Lor'." Her gaze fell to the black and white feathers the doll was holding, and she shivered, clenching her toes nervously. She shook her head. She was being silly, she knew.
"So was yours," Lori replied from the kitchen. "They'll probably flip a coin next week to determine who's Sales' boss."
She padded back in holding two half-filled wine glasses. "Dinner is being kept warm, for whenever we're ready." She sat next to Jacki, and handed her a glass.
Jacki sipped the wine, smiled, and set the glass on the table next to the doll. She stretched langourously. "It's so GOOD to let go of all that STRESS! Both the meeting AND the bad feeling between us. I thought you hated me."
Lori sipped her wine, holding her glass with both hands as she reclined, "And I thought you intended to cast a spell on me. To ruin my chances."
Jacki chuckled, "Hehheh! Really? Hehhehheh. You're making me laugh!" She crossed her stocking legs and flexed her raised left foot.
"Mmm-hmm," Lori murmured, glancing at Jacki's wiggling toes. "Your feet still ache?"
"Yeah, hehheh!" Jacki giggled. "I hope that you aren't going to suggest we go dancing."
"Here," Lori said. She said her glass down next to the doll and pulled Jacki's raised foot into her lap. Jacki began to protest, "No, it's all funky!" But Lori shushed her, and began to gently but firmly massage her guest's stocking foot.
"OOOOOOOO!" Jacklynne gushed. "That feels SO good!" She leaned back and sighed, closing her eyes as Lori silently and expertly massaged her foot for long, lovely minutes. After Lori had her practically moaning, Jacki put her OTHER foot into Lori's lap. With a wink, Lori began gently massaging the other one.
Jacki purred. The combination of her long day, the wine, and Lori's warm hands were easily disarming her. She forced open her eyes, saw the doll, and chuckled. "Hehhehheh."
"Am I tickling you?" asked Lori, still massaging.
"Believe me," Jacki replied, "you'd know it if you were. I'm INSANELY ticklish everywhere, ESPECIALLY my feet." She wiggled her toes in Lori's lap.
"Ah!" Lori offered, still carefully massaging.
"No, I was giggling because of the feathers that dumb doll is holding." She chuckled again. "I can't believe I fell for the story that old woman in the botanica told me...that this doll could make people laugh." She felt dreamy. "I paid her, and had her deliver it to you, hoping that it would somehow spook you and keep you awake last night so you'd blow your presentation. Crazy, right?"
Lori glanced up from her massaging and smiled, echoing, "Crazy."
"Besides being crazy," Jacki continued, "it's so MEAN! Imagine wishing someone would be tickled all night." She shivered. "I'd DIE if it were done to me."
"Oh?" Lori asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Yeah, hehheh," Jacklynne murmured, feeling a bit woozy. She just then noticed that two feathers, one white and one black, were poking out from between the second two buttons of Lori's blouse. "Teehee! I JUST noticed! You've got feathers, too! Don't they, like, tickle you?"
Lori's eyes began to glow. "No, they don't tickle...me..." She raised her right leg and crossed it atop her left, pinning Jacklynne's ankles snugly between them. "Not...me..." Her mouth curled slowly into a chilling, toothsome grin.
Jacki giggled, "Hehhehhey!" Her flesh got goose pimply when she realized that she couldn't move her tender, stocking feet from Lori's iron scissorshold. "Lori?"
The avenging spirit plucked the feathers from between his host's breasts and, with them, began to tickle Jacklynne's helpless soles. "L-Lori? Hehhehheh Dohohon't! You're-hehheh-you're hahaha t-tihihickling meheehee! Ahhahahahaaaa!"
He thrilled at the thought of torturously tickling the life out of another deliciously ticklish woman over another long, lovely evening...so soon...such laughter...
"NOHAHAHAHAHA! PLEEHEEHEEHEEEESE! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!"
-Fin-
*Eons ago, I wrote a little tickle chiller titled “Five Fingers” for TALES FROM THE ASYLUM. Its basic plot was “ticklish woman alone meets her greatest fear and/or fondest desire.” It was inspired by a classic horror movie, and, like that film, posited that the threat was only in the eye of the beholder—at least until the coda of my story.
I figured that enough time had elapsed so I might shamelessly exploit this formula again. Ticklish woman alone…check. Relentless and apparently supernatural tickler…check. Questioning whether it’s a dream or reality…check. Situation, ah, inspired by a classic movie…check. (By the way, I’m curious to know if anyone recognizes the source of my, ah, inspiration.)
I had intended this for Halloween, but, well…Happy Washington's Birthday!
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My next favorite word after ticklish..... devious. 
