oneortheother
TMF Expert
- Joined
- Sep 16, 2008
- Messages
- 375
- Points
- 18
A Certain Magical Index TK: Mikoto’s Ticklish Training
O-O-O
Mikoto Misaka had been intrigued when she saw the note at her desk advertising a new training programme designed just for her. “Push your limits to the max, and improve!” it read. Mikoto had risen from a level 1 esper to a level 5 esper through her exceptional work ethic, so she jumped at a new training regime to improve her powers even further.
And that was how she had ended up in her current predicament. She had followed the note to a classroom in Tokiwadai Middle School, but as soon as she stepped inside and took a deep breath, a powerful scent knocked her unconscious.
She found herself strapped to some kind of bizarre contraption, with an automated, computerized voice speaking in her ear.
“Apologies for that. The surprise would have been ruined if you had just seen everything,” the computer voice said apologetically.
“What are you saying? Let me go!” Mikoto said indignantly, trying to squirm free. There was a blindfold on her face, and she could feel manacles and metal straps all over her body. She could feel she was flat on her back on some cold metallic surface, and her hands were encased in some kind of velvety material. The straps held her wrists, waist, and ankles tightly to the horizontal table.
“Are you sure? You are here for training, are you not? Would you give up before even hearing about the challenge?”
Mikoto bit her lip. It was not like her to give up so quickly… “What challenge?” she asked.
“30 minutes of endurance. Do not use your powers,” the voice said, as a graphic of a timer suddenly appeared on the inside of Mikoto’s blindfold, enabling her to see the time. “Use of your electricity powers prolongs the ordeal. Do you accept?”
The bound girl took a deep breath as she mulled it over. 30 minutes without her powers did not seem too difficult. But she had to know more before committing. “What’s the purpose of this training? How will it help me?”
“Self-control, perseverance, and patience. There will be moments where you must wait for the opportune moment to strike. This training exercise is about waiting for that moment to present itself.”
Mikoto chewed on that. “Fine. I’m in. Let’s do this,” she said, tossing her brown hair back. How hard could it be? She could do this.
“The training exercise has now officially begun,” the robotic voice blared, as the machine made an ominous whirl. “Phase 1.”
Phase 1? Mikoto did not have time to figure out what meant, as she felt the straps around her wrists slowly tilt backwards, slowly but steadily stretching her stomach till she was elongated to the maximum. She also felt her brown loafers being plucked off. Wait, what was about to happen to her? Mikoto wondered. The programme had only mentioned a training exercise, and Mikoto had forgotten to ask exactly what would be happening to her in it! As Mikoto was cursing under her breath for being so foolish, she got the answer to her riddle.
She felt a rubber-tipped prong prod against her right side, making her twitch and yelp out of reflex, Mikoto’s light brown vest sweater and white blouse providing little protection. She felt another prong poking on her left, right along her fully-stretched out armpit. Mikoto bit her lip as she felt laughter welling up in her throat as the prong entered her armpit. She was gritting her teeth and choking back giggles as the prong poked in and wriggled about, as the brown-haired girl had no way of protecting her helpless underarm. What is going on…
It became obvious as she felt what must have been a wooden backscratcher itching at the ball of her right foot, which were still protected by her thick white socks. The ordeal was tickling. Mikoto almost laughed aloud, though that was only because of how laughable the ordeal was, not because it tickled or anything… she could take tickling! Tickling was the kind of thing that happened at slumber parties! She remembered about a week ago she had gotten into a tickle fight with her best friend and roommate, Shirai Kuroko. The girls had been painting their toenails and giving each other pedicures, but while Kuroko was finishing up the application of electric-yellow nail polish on Mikoto’s toes, the mischievous girl gave Mikoto’s soft sole a quick tickle. Squealing in surprise, Mikoto had pounced on Kuroko’s pale feet, whose toes had been painted in alternating black and white colours, and scribbled her fingers wildly over them till Kuroko had been too breathless to say "stop tickling me, Onee-sama! Toohohohohoho tihihicicklish!" Kuroko had put up a token resistance, trying to take a swipe at Mikoto’s slender feet or sides, but Mikoto had quelled her defiance with a few well-placed scratches under those pretty toes.
That being said, Mikoto still felt herself gasp, and her breathing accelerate as the scratcher continued to weave along her soles. The scratches went from short, light scrapes to long, deeper scratches on the delicate flesh. Mikoto felt her toes start to wiggle in her socks as her high arches began to receive the brunt of this scratching.
The tickling at her midriff was intensifying too, as the two rubber-tipped prongs continued to dig and scratch in her sensitive armpits. At her sides a pair of clamps began squeezing her sides, making her jolt and splutter with laughter. Mikoto hated to admit it, but no matter how hard she fought it, the tickling was starting to wear her out. Giggles were trickling from her lips now, and she found herself twisting harder and harder instinctively against her bondage. The scratcher was chasing the undersides of Mikoto’s toes, and although she could wiggle her foot away, it was only delaying the inevitable and sparing her digits a few moments of ticklish reprieve. The prongs made it feel like the sleeves of Mikoto’s blouse weren’t even there, as they teased the sensitive skin there with their rubber tips. The clamps at her sides were tweaking her right side and her left side in alternating actions, making her jolt one way and then the other as if she was rowing in a boat.
“Gahahahah stahahahap ihihihiht! Ihihihit tihihihickles!” Mikoto found herself saying, as the devilish mechanical implements tickled her harder and harder. The timer in her blindfold said that only eight minutes had elapsed, but it felt more like eight hours to Mikoto as she snorted and squeaked with high-pitched girlish laughter. She felt a tingling in her fingers as she reflexively wanted to conjure electricity to free herself from this ticklish trial, but she remembered the rules of the training programme. She had to endure! With sweat trickling down her chin as her laughter grew more and more frenetic. The tickling tools were tireless, and they were content to keep tickling and tickling as sweat began to trickle down Mikoto’s brow.
At the ten minute mark, Mikoto felt the mechanical devices coming to a halt. Grateful, Mikoto gulped in air as she tried to catch her breath.
“Phase 2 will commencing in thirty seconds,” the cool electronic voice stated. The thirty second break was not a restful one, as Mikoto felt metal pincers roll up her vest and blouse so her bare stomach was exposed. Doubtless there would be a whole host of devices dedicated to tickling the hell out of me there… Mikoto thought, her trepidation only increasing as her thick white socks were pulled off so now her bare, white feet would be even more ticklish, as they were without the protection of her socks, which had blocked out some of the tickling. , as she wiggled her painted toes nervously, adjusting to the cool air on her soles. Mikoto dimly wondered if her brightly-painted yellow toenails would be a prime target with their eye-catching vibrancy. Sure enough, she felt something stranger and rubbery latch onto her toes that felt a bit like mini-plungers. They felt like little rubber suction cups, and these suctions zeroed in on the very tips of each toe, latching onto them securely by sucking out the air so there was no way the suction cups could be dislodged by frantic foot flailing. Within seconds, the suction cups had tightened, and the toes were slightly pulled apart to expose the deliciously sensitive crevices in between. With those suction cups in place, Mikoto’s milky-white sole was pulled taut, and her feet would not be able to dodge swipes from the wooden backscratcher again.
This all added up to Phase 2 being even more unbearable than Phase 1, and Mikoto did not even have a moment to brace herself, because Phase 2 was about to start.
O-O-O
Mikoto tried to wiggle her bare feet nervously, but found the toe bondage restricted all her movement. The tickling had been bad enough with socks on, so just what would it be like when she had lost even her last bastion of defence? She sucked in her breath and tried not to think about what delectable targets her pale, petite feet must be. She knew the wrinkly arches on her soles would be a pleasing shade of white, while the balls, heels and sides of her feet were a slightly pinkish colour.
She felt the backscratcher make contact with her left sole again, as the wooden claws raked up her arch. Within two long racks of the scratcher, Mikoto could feel her control ebbing away as laughter began trickling past her tightly-pressed lips.
“Gahahahaha, nohohohohoho fahahahair!” Mikoto cried, as she felt something soft and bristly brush against the soft flesh of her other foot. As if the backscratcher on its own wasn’t bad enough! Mikoto couldn’t see what the soft, wispy thing tormented her right foot was, but she had a dark suspicion it was an evil feather. The feather was a smaller, lighter, fluffier thing, but it served as a sharp contract to the rakes and slices across her left sole of the backscratcher. The backscratcher was a large, unwieldy thing, although it was devastating on Mikoto’s high arches with long strokes. On the other hand, the feather dusted, teased, and probed Mikoto’s sole in search for sweet spots, in particular around and especially in between Mikoto’s freshly-pedicured yellow toes, where the backscratcher was unable to explore meticulously. The feather definitely made up for its size with a thorough exploration of the gaps between Mikoto’s toes, and the computer clearly made notes on how much Mikoto giggled when the wisps of the feather teased the webbing between her slender digits. For a normal person, it would have been quite difficult to use each hand to tickle in such drastically different ways, the same way it was hard to pat your head and rub your stomach at the same time, but the machine had no such restrictions, as the machine masterfully elicited ticklish laughter from the seated student.
Mikoto squeaked and squealed as her toes were continuously tantalized by the soft touch of the feather, her giggles interspersed with harsh belly laughter was the backscratcher wreaked havoc on her other foot. She tried to fight it, but she felt like she was between a rock and a hard place when it came to the tickle torment being inflicted on her soles; her arches were a terrible spot for her, especially with her foot pulled taut like this, and the backscratcher was doing something ungodly to all the ticklish nerves clustered around there and the ball of her food. Yet with the feather wiggling underneath her tender toes and inside the sensitive spaces between them, she felt like there was no spot on her feet as bad as her toes, as the slightest touch underneath her toes made it feel like her muscles had turned to jelly. Her blindness made it even worse, as every attack was a surprise that caught her off guard so everything tickled that much more.
She tried her best so scrunch her toes again but there was no breaking free of those accursed suction gaps that had captured her toes. They kept her toes firmly in place, no matter how hard she strained, and they always kept the undersides of her toes exposed so every inch of her sensitive digits could receive proper ticklish attention. And to think the instruments on her midsection had been idle… this was not boding well at all for the young student’s perseverance. If she was already losing her mind now, how bad would it be when her upperbody was worked on too?
Her eyesight was starting to get blurry from her clenching her eyes shut as she tried to keep her laughter under control, but the laughter was flowing freely and easily now, as the backscratcher and the feather continued their merry meander along her trapped white soles. And the timer stated she still had half of her ordeal to go… Mikoto’s willpower was fraying as she felt sweat creep along her brow from all her struggles. Her brown hair was starting to clump to her head uncomfortably, and more than once had almost unleashed an electrical burst out of pure instinct to save her sensitive soles from further ticklish trauma. To her relief, the implements at her feet finally stopped, but this was no cause for celebration as Mikoto heard the whirl of new devices at her stomach. All she could do was hope it would not be as bad.
O-O-O
The ticklish student should have been happy that her slender soles were saved from the tickling, but the tickling at her upperbody and legs made it so it was no cause for celebration. Within moments, she was cackling like a madwoman as the ticklish devices pierced through her already-weakened defences in seconds. Like the tickling that had been inflicted upon her feet, the tickling tools had stepped their game up. With her shirt rolled up, the bare flesh of her stomach was on full display, and the computer took to attacking this new spot with mechanical gusto. A swam of feathers danced up and down her tummy, with feathers constantly flittering into her navel. Mikoto had never known how susceptible her belly button was to feathers, but she was becoming very well-acquainted with that fact as feathers twirled and dipped into that ticklish divet at a maddening rate. Already, Mikoto felt herself accidentally release a few sparks from the bottoms of her soles. No!
For her ribs and armpits, a set of rapidly vibrating prods rummaged up and down, and it was unreal how much it tickled when they vibed her ribcage. Mikoto was straining at her bondage, desperate to move her arms away from them. She felt the trickle of electricity in her veins yet again, as the tickling threatened to blow up her self-control.
Her sides had a pair of cold, metallic clamps working over them, squeezing and jolting the sensitive flesh there. Being poked in the sides was something Kuroko did to her occasionally, but a finger poking you lightly was one thing, and the mechanical precision of the clamps was a different one altogether. The pressure and location changed constantly. It seemed the machine had been programmed with a random touch and time-span for each movement, and trying to predict the next tickle spot was an exercise in futility, as it always seemed to catch her off-guard, making her jump every few seconds in ticklish reflex. It was the sides that tipped the scales, and made Mikoto lose control for the first time. The tickling at her feet was more of a scratchy, teasing sort of tickling, but the squeezing and poking was more a muscle-stimulating sort of thing, would made her flinch and gasp each time. It was during one of these flinches, when the instinctive impulse to flee was strongest, that Mikoto found herself surging with electrical power, and so desperate to escape her ticklish confines, she let it loose. Mikoto released a massive burst of energy, but instead of overloading or disabling the machine, it seemed to empower it as it filled with energy. The timer in front of Mikoto’s eyes, which had been at ten minutes, doubled to twenty.
“Nohohohoho!” Mikoto groaned, still half-giggling, as she tossed her head from side to side. She had been nearly finished! “Gahahahaha!” she said, pulling at her bonds even harder. She knew escape was likely as impossible as before, but she needed some way to vent her frustration. Mikoto’s tidy light brown hair was becoming a mess as she whipped her head back and forth.
To make matters worse, she could feel the devices at her reddened feet beginning to hum into motion again. Just what she needed! Mikoto thought, her immaculate feet already tingling in anticipation. She was expecting the backscratcher digging into her high arches, or the feather snaking its way through her tender toes, but the machine had a new trick in its bag. When she felt the two things hit her right foot, her first instinct was they were feathers – bristly, pointy feathers with sharp points. But as they drug across her sole, one drawing tiny circles on her arch while the other traced across the toe balls, she realized they were paintbrushes, similar to the kind used in traditional calligraphy. So in addition to the onslaught on her ticklish upperbody, Mikoto was having a masterpiece drawn on her right foot by a pair of diabolical brushes, and they took keen care to ‘paint’ every inch of her soles. They stayed to her right foot, but they would weave about in unpredictable patterns so Mikoto’s terribly ticklish foot would never be desensitized. They would trace about in asymmetrical patterns, one teasing the base of her smooth arch while the other slid along the tips of her toes.
Another surge of electricity unwittingly came forth when the two paintbrushes attacked the toes of her right foot in concert. One brush at those sensitive toes of hers was bad enough, but Mikoto was powerless to stop the electricity flowing from her body when one paintbrush was delicately stroking the skin on the inner side of her big toe while the other was brushing wildly underneath her pinkie toe.
And just like Mikoto predicted the timer jumped from fifteen minutes to twenty-five, and a new set of implements went to work. Mikoto would never admit this, but as her throat started to chaff from so much continuous laughter, she wondered if perhaps she had bitten off more than she could chew.
O-O-O
“Urgeeeeeeee,” Mikoto said, half grunting and half squealing as she again lost it and gave another huge, powerful jolt of electricity unwillingly into the machine! She could believe what was happening. How could she have such a poor grasp on her powers! It was just silly old tickling! She just had to focus and keep her mind on the time… Of course, that was a lot easier said than done, as the ‘silly old tickling’ had a wicked new addition to their tickling arsenal.
With Mikoto’s underarms perfectly stretched and exposed back due to the clever design of the rack, there was nothing she could do to prevent the latest tickling tool from delving into the creamy hollows of her armpits, which were only protected for a thin cotton layer of clothing.
Mikoto’s first reaction was that a pair of merciless hands was drilling into those ticklish pits, but she soon realized they tickled far too much to be ordinary fingers. Everything tickled too much, from her feet (which were still being ‘painted’) to her underarms, Mikoto realized dimly. The metallic (they had to be metallic, Mikoto decided) fingers had long nails, and each finger seem to vibrate in her underarms maddeningly. Over time, as Mikoto’s nerves began to fray further and further from the masterful ticklish ministrations of all this malevolent devices, she let loose further electric shocks, not even realizing as more and more ticklish tools were added to her helpless, over stimulated body.
She felt something wet lap at her left foot. Some kind of imitation tongue? Mikoto was too tired from laughing to think. Whatever it was, it tickled terribly, as it lapped up and down her trembling arch and planted plenty of ticklish licks under and in between her yellow toes. But compared to the fiendish brushing on her other foot, it was almost a massage.
Something light began to tease against her bare thighs. They felt like feathers which danced all over the milky-white flesh of those tantalizingly ticklish inner thighs. The plumes would roam from the back of the knees to where the shorts Mikoto wore under her skirt met. The touch of the feathers there drove her crazy, sending shivers down her spine and conjuring butterflies in her stomach. The bristly feathers started out with light traces around her mid-thigh region, but soon they began to breach the territory around the inside of her thighs up to the crease, which made her tummy churn with peculiar feelings as it went dangerously close to her privates.
As the feathers ran up and down her inner thighs, there was nothing Mikoto could do but bounce my legs fruitlessly. Or was there? Mikoto thought, in a hazy daze of tickle-fuelled delirium. Mikoto bit her lip as she felt the metal fingers probing her armpits gently graze against the sides of her breasts. Maybe the tickling wasn’t so bad after all… Just like when it came to homework, revision, battle, or anything, the trick was focusing. Maybe she had been approaching this whole thing wrong. Maybe the trick to enduring was to see that the tickling might actually be… nice?
Mikoto closed her eyes, tried not to think about the blindfold with its timer. She squealed and giggled with abandon, as the devices continues to stoke her into a ticklish frenzy, but this time she accepted it, and didn’t try to struggle to contain her laughter. She was following the current of ticklish mirth now, instead of trying to fight so hard against it. She let it flow from her unbidden, her mind’s eyes on the tickles that teased her body in all the ways she liked. She tried to ignore the squeezing of her sides and the mindmelting swabbing of the paintbrushes on her right foot. Her whole world became the gentle feathering along her thighs which sent a trickle of delicious warmth tingling through her body. Her whole world became the tender kisses and licks on her sensitive left foot, which were in dire need of some loving. Her whole world became the tantalizing scratches along the edge of her tender bosoms. She closed her eyes, as giggles and moans merged together and she lost herself to the laughter.
The brown-haired girl was almost disappointed when the tickling stopped, and a prerecorded message told her how well she had done to pass the trial. She almost blurted out the words “Don’t Stop”, as she tugged on her socks and shoes and left the room. She could still feel her feet tingling and a strange tightness in her stomach as she walked away. I wonder if I could start a tickle fight with Kuroko next time I see her… Mikoto thought as she trudged off, her mind still all over the place from what she had just experiences. Unbeknownst to her, a pigtailed student with red ribbons in hair walked out of the room shortly after, smacking her lips together and clapping her hands together in girlish joy.
“Now, wasn’t that fun, Onee-sama?” Kuroko said to herself cheerily, with a giggle.
O-O-O
Mikoto Misaka had been intrigued when she saw the note at her desk advertising a new training programme designed just for her. “Push your limits to the max, and improve!” it read. Mikoto had risen from a level 1 esper to a level 5 esper through her exceptional work ethic, so she jumped at a new training regime to improve her powers even further.
And that was how she had ended up in her current predicament. She had followed the note to a classroom in Tokiwadai Middle School, but as soon as she stepped inside and took a deep breath, a powerful scent knocked her unconscious.
She found herself strapped to some kind of bizarre contraption, with an automated, computerized voice speaking in her ear.
“Apologies for that. The surprise would have been ruined if you had just seen everything,” the computer voice said apologetically.
“What are you saying? Let me go!” Mikoto said indignantly, trying to squirm free. There was a blindfold on her face, and she could feel manacles and metal straps all over her body. She could feel she was flat on her back on some cold metallic surface, and her hands were encased in some kind of velvety material. The straps held her wrists, waist, and ankles tightly to the horizontal table.
“Are you sure? You are here for training, are you not? Would you give up before even hearing about the challenge?”
Mikoto bit her lip. It was not like her to give up so quickly… “What challenge?” she asked.
“30 minutes of endurance. Do not use your powers,” the voice said, as a graphic of a timer suddenly appeared on the inside of Mikoto’s blindfold, enabling her to see the time. “Use of your electricity powers prolongs the ordeal. Do you accept?”
The bound girl took a deep breath as she mulled it over. 30 minutes without her powers did not seem too difficult. But she had to know more before committing. “What’s the purpose of this training? How will it help me?”
“Self-control, perseverance, and patience. There will be moments where you must wait for the opportune moment to strike. This training exercise is about waiting for that moment to present itself.”
Mikoto chewed on that. “Fine. I’m in. Let’s do this,” she said, tossing her brown hair back. How hard could it be? She could do this.
“The training exercise has now officially begun,” the robotic voice blared, as the machine made an ominous whirl. “Phase 1.”
Phase 1? Mikoto did not have time to figure out what meant, as she felt the straps around her wrists slowly tilt backwards, slowly but steadily stretching her stomach till she was elongated to the maximum. She also felt her brown loafers being plucked off. Wait, what was about to happen to her? Mikoto wondered. The programme had only mentioned a training exercise, and Mikoto had forgotten to ask exactly what would be happening to her in it! As Mikoto was cursing under her breath for being so foolish, she got the answer to her riddle.
She felt a rubber-tipped prong prod against her right side, making her twitch and yelp out of reflex, Mikoto’s light brown vest sweater and white blouse providing little protection. She felt another prong poking on her left, right along her fully-stretched out armpit. Mikoto bit her lip as she felt laughter welling up in her throat as the prong entered her armpit. She was gritting her teeth and choking back giggles as the prong poked in and wriggled about, as the brown-haired girl had no way of protecting her helpless underarm. What is going on…
It became obvious as she felt what must have been a wooden backscratcher itching at the ball of her right foot, which were still protected by her thick white socks. The ordeal was tickling. Mikoto almost laughed aloud, though that was only because of how laughable the ordeal was, not because it tickled or anything… she could take tickling! Tickling was the kind of thing that happened at slumber parties! She remembered about a week ago she had gotten into a tickle fight with her best friend and roommate, Shirai Kuroko. The girls had been painting their toenails and giving each other pedicures, but while Kuroko was finishing up the application of electric-yellow nail polish on Mikoto’s toes, the mischievous girl gave Mikoto’s soft sole a quick tickle. Squealing in surprise, Mikoto had pounced on Kuroko’s pale feet, whose toes had been painted in alternating black and white colours, and scribbled her fingers wildly over them till Kuroko had been too breathless to say "stop tickling me, Onee-sama! Toohohohohoho tihihicicklish!" Kuroko had put up a token resistance, trying to take a swipe at Mikoto’s slender feet or sides, but Mikoto had quelled her defiance with a few well-placed scratches under those pretty toes.
That being said, Mikoto still felt herself gasp, and her breathing accelerate as the scratcher continued to weave along her soles. The scratches went from short, light scrapes to long, deeper scratches on the delicate flesh. Mikoto felt her toes start to wiggle in her socks as her high arches began to receive the brunt of this scratching.
The tickling at her midriff was intensifying too, as the two rubber-tipped prongs continued to dig and scratch in her sensitive armpits. At her sides a pair of clamps began squeezing her sides, making her jolt and splutter with laughter. Mikoto hated to admit it, but no matter how hard she fought it, the tickling was starting to wear her out. Giggles were trickling from her lips now, and she found herself twisting harder and harder instinctively against her bondage. The scratcher was chasing the undersides of Mikoto’s toes, and although she could wiggle her foot away, it was only delaying the inevitable and sparing her digits a few moments of ticklish reprieve. The prongs made it feel like the sleeves of Mikoto’s blouse weren’t even there, as they teased the sensitive skin there with their rubber tips. The clamps at her sides were tweaking her right side and her left side in alternating actions, making her jolt one way and then the other as if she was rowing in a boat.
“Gahahahah stahahahap ihihihiht! Ihihihit tihihihickles!” Mikoto found herself saying, as the devilish mechanical implements tickled her harder and harder. The timer in her blindfold said that only eight minutes had elapsed, but it felt more like eight hours to Mikoto as she snorted and squeaked with high-pitched girlish laughter. She felt a tingling in her fingers as she reflexively wanted to conjure electricity to free herself from this ticklish trial, but she remembered the rules of the training programme. She had to endure! With sweat trickling down her chin as her laughter grew more and more frenetic. The tickling tools were tireless, and they were content to keep tickling and tickling as sweat began to trickle down Mikoto’s brow.
At the ten minute mark, Mikoto felt the mechanical devices coming to a halt. Grateful, Mikoto gulped in air as she tried to catch her breath.
“Phase 2 will commencing in thirty seconds,” the cool electronic voice stated. The thirty second break was not a restful one, as Mikoto felt metal pincers roll up her vest and blouse so her bare stomach was exposed. Doubtless there would be a whole host of devices dedicated to tickling the hell out of me there… Mikoto thought, her trepidation only increasing as her thick white socks were pulled off so now her bare, white feet would be even more ticklish, as they were without the protection of her socks, which had blocked out some of the tickling. , as she wiggled her painted toes nervously, adjusting to the cool air on her soles. Mikoto dimly wondered if her brightly-painted yellow toenails would be a prime target with their eye-catching vibrancy. Sure enough, she felt something stranger and rubbery latch onto her toes that felt a bit like mini-plungers. They felt like little rubber suction cups, and these suctions zeroed in on the very tips of each toe, latching onto them securely by sucking out the air so there was no way the suction cups could be dislodged by frantic foot flailing. Within seconds, the suction cups had tightened, and the toes were slightly pulled apart to expose the deliciously sensitive crevices in between. With those suction cups in place, Mikoto’s milky-white sole was pulled taut, and her feet would not be able to dodge swipes from the wooden backscratcher again.
This all added up to Phase 2 being even more unbearable than Phase 1, and Mikoto did not even have a moment to brace herself, because Phase 2 was about to start.
O-O-O
Mikoto tried to wiggle her bare feet nervously, but found the toe bondage restricted all her movement. The tickling had been bad enough with socks on, so just what would it be like when she had lost even her last bastion of defence? She sucked in her breath and tried not to think about what delectable targets her pale, petite feet must be. She knew the wrinkly arches on her soles would be a pleasing shade of white, while the balls, heels and sides of her feet were a slightly pinkish colour.
She felt the backscratcher make contact with her left sole again, as the wooden claws raked up her arch. Within two long racks of the scratcher, Mikoto could feel her control ebbing away as laughter began trickling past her tightly-pressed lips.
“Gahahahaha, nohohohohoho fahahahair!” Mikoto cried, as she felt something soft and bristly brush against the soft flesh of her other foot. As if the backscratcher on its own wasn’t bad enough! Mikoto couldn’t see what the soft, wispy thing tormented her right foot was, but she had a dark suspicion it was an evil feather. The feather was a smaller, lighter, fluffier thing, but it served as a sharp contract to the rakes and slices across her left sole of the backscratcher. The backscratcher was a large, unwieldy thing, although it was devastating on Mikoto’s high arches with long strokes. On the other hand, the feather dusted, teased, and probed Mikoto’s sole in search for sweet spots, in particular around and especially in between Mikoto’s freshly-pedicured yellow toes, where the backscratcher was unable to explore meticulously. The feather definitely made up for its size with a thorough exploration of the gaps between Mikoto’s toes, and the computer clearly made notes on how much Mikoto giggled when the wisps of the feather teased the webbing between her slender digits. For a normal person, it would have been quite difficult to use each hand to tickle in such drastically different ways, the same way it was hard to pat your head and rub your stomach at the same time, but the machine had no such restrictions, as the machine masterfully elicited ticklish laughter from the seated student.
Mikoto squeaked and squealed as her toes were continuously tantalized by the soft touch of the feather, her giggles interspersed with harsh belly laughter was the backscratcher wreaked havoc on her other foot. She tried to fight it, but she felt like she was between a rock and a hard place when it came to the tickle torment being inflicted on her soles; her arches were a terrible spot for her, especially with her foot pulled taut like this, and the backscratcher was doing something ungodly to all the ticklish nerves clustered around there and the ball of her food. Yet with the feather wiggling underneath her tender toes and inside the sensitive spaces between them, she felt like there was no spot on her feet as bad as her toes, as the slightest touch underneath her toes made it feel like her muscles had turned to jelly. Her blindness made it even worse, as every attack was a surprise that caught her off guard so everything tickled that much more.
She tried her best so scrunch her toes again but there was no breaking free of those accursed suction gaps that had captured her toes. They kept her toes firmly in place, no matter how hard she strained, and they always kept the undersides of her toes exposed so every inch of her sensitive digits could receive proper ticklish attention. And to think the instruments on her midsection had been idle… this was not boding well at all for the young student’s perseverance. If she was already losing her mind now, how bad would it be when her upperbody was worked on too?
Her eyesight was starting to get blurry from her clenching her eyes shut as she tried to keep her laughter under control, but the laughter was flowing freely and easily now, as the backscratcher and the feather continued their merry meander along her trapped white soles. And the timer stated she still had half of her ordeal to go… Mikoto’s willpower was fraying as she felt sweat creep along her brow from all her struggles. Her brown hair was starting to clump to her head uncomfortably, and more than once had almost unleashed an electrical burst out of pure instinct to save her sensitive soles from further ticklish trauma. To her relief, the implements at her feet finally stopped, but this was no cause for celebration as Mikoto heard the whirl of new devices at her stomach. All she could do was hope it would not be as bad.
O-O-O
The ticklish student should have been happy that her slender soles were saved from the tickling, but the tickling at her upperbody and legs made it so it was no cause for celebration. Within moments, she was cackling like a madwoman as the ticklish devices pierced through her already-weakened defences in seconds. Like the tickling that had been inflicted upon her feet, the tickling tools had stepped their game up. With her shirt rolled up, the bare flesh of her stomach was on full display, and the computer took to attacking this new spot with mechanical gusto. A swam of feathers danced up and down her tummy, with feathers constantly flittering into her navel. Mikoto had never known how susceptible her belly button was to feathers, but she was becoming very well-acquainted with that fact as feathers twirled and dipped into that ticklish divet at a maddening rate. Already, Mikoto felt herself accidentally release a few sparks from the bottoms of her soles. No!
For her ribs and armpits, a set of rapidly vibrating prods rummaged up and down, and it was unreal how much it tickled when they vibed her ribcage. Mikoto was straining at her bondage, desperate to move her arms away from them. She felt the trickle of electricity in her veins yet again, as the tickling threatened to blow up her self-control.
Her sides had a pair of cold, metallic clamps working over them, squeezing and jolting the sensitive flesh there. Being poked in the sides was something Kuroko did to her occasionally, but a finger poking you lightly was one thing, and the mechanical precision of the clamps was a different one altogether. The pressure and location changed constantly. It seemed the machine had been programmed with a random touch and time-span for each movement, and trying to predict the next tickle spot was an exercise in futility, as it always seemed to catch her off-guard, making her jump every few seconds in ticklish reflex. It was the sides that tipped the scales, and made Mikoto lose control for the first time. The tickling at her feet was more of a scratchy, teasing sort of tickling, but the squeezing and poking was more a muscle-stimulating sort of thing, would made her flinch and gasp each time. It was during one of these flinches, when the instinctive impulse to flee was strongest, that Mikoto found herself surging with electrical power, and so desperate to escape her ticklish confines, she let it loose. Mikoto released a massive burst of energy, but instead of overloading or disabling the machine, it seemed to empower it as it filled with energy. The timer in front of Mikoto’s eyes, which had been at ten minutes, doubled to twenty.
“Nohohohoho!” Mikoto groaned, still half-giggling, as she tossed her head from side to side. She had been nearly finished! “Gahahahaha!” she said, pulling at her bonds even harder. She knew escape was likely as impossible as before, but she needed some way to vent her frustration. Mikoto’s tidy light brown hair was becoming a mess as she whipped her head back and forth.
To make matters worse, she could feel the devices at her reddened feet beginning to hum into motion again. Just what she needed! Mikoto thought, her immaculate feet already tingling in anticipation. She was expecting the backscratcher digging into her high arches, or the feather snaking its way through her tender toes, but the machine had a new trick in its bag. When she felt the two things hit her right foot, her first instinct was they were feathers – bristly, pointy feathers with sharp points. But as they drug across her sole, one drawing tiny circles on her arch while the other traced across the toe balls, she realized they were paintbrushes, similar to the kind used in traditional calligraphy. So in addition to the onslaught on her ticklish upperbody, Mikoto was having a masterpiece drawn on her right foot by a pair of diabolical brushes, and they took keen care to ‘paint’ every inch of her soles. They stayed to her right foot, but they would weave about in unpredictable patterns so Mikoto’s terribly ticklish foot would never be desensitized. They would trace about in asymmetrical patterns, one teasing the base of her smooth arch while the other slid along the tips of her toes.
Another surge of electricity unwittingly came forth when the two paintbrushes attacked the toes of her right foot in concert. One brush at those sensitive toes of hers was bad enough, but Mikoto was powerless to stop the electricity flowing from her body when one paintbrush was delicately stroking the skin on the inner side of her big toe while the other was brushing wildly underneath her pinkie toe.
And just like Mikoto predicted the timer jumped from fifteen minutes to twenty-five, and a new set of implements went to work. Mikoto would never admit this, but as her throat started to chaff from so much continuous laughter, she wondered if perhaps she had bitten off more than she could chew.
O-O-O
“Urgeeeeeeee,” Mikoto said, half grunting and half squealing as she again lost it and gave another huge, powerful jolt of electricity unwillingly into the machine! She could believe what was happening. How could she have such a poor grasp on her powers! It was just silly old tickling! She just had to focus and keep her mind on the time… Of course, that was a lot easier said than done, as the ‘silly old tickling’ had a wicked new addition to their tickling arsenal.
With Mikoto’s underarms perfectly stretched and exposed back due to the clever design of the rack, there was nothing she could do to prevent the latest tickling tool from delving into the creamy hollows of her armpits, which were only protected for a thin cotton layer of clothing.
Mikoto’s first reaction was that a pair of merciless hands was drilling into those ticklish pits, but she soon realized they tickled far too much to be ordinary fingers. Everything tickled too much, from her feet (which were still being ‘painted’) to her underarms, Mikoto realized dimly. The metallic (they had to be metallic, Mikoto decided) fingers had long nails, and each finger seem to vibrate in her underarms maddeningly. Over time, as Mikoto’s nerves began to fray further and further from the masterful ticklish ministrations of all this malevolent devices, she let loose further electric shocks, not even realizing as more and more ticklish tools were added to her helpless, over stimulated body.
She felt something wet lap at her left foot. Some kind of imitation tongue? Mikoto was too tired from laughing to think. Whatever it was, it tickled terribly, as it lapped up and down her trembling arch and planted plenty of ticklish licks under and in between her yellow toes. But compared to the fiendish brushing on her other foot, it was almost a massage.
Something light began to tease against her bare thighs. They felt like feathers which danced all over the milky-white flesh of those tantalizingly ticklish inner thighs. The plumes would roam from the back of the knees to where the shorts Mikoto wore under her skirt met. The touch of the feathers there drove her crazy, sending shivers down her spine and conjuring butterflies in her stomach. The bristly feathers started out with light traces around her mid-thigh region, but soon they began to breach the territory around the inside of her thighs up to the crease, which made her tummy churn with peculiar feelings as it went dangerously close to her privates.
As the feathers ran up and down her inner thighs, there was nothing Mikoto could do but bounce my legs fruitlessly. Or was there? Mikoto thought, in a hazy daze of tickle-fuelled delirium. Mikoto bit her lip as she felt the metal fingers probing her armpits gently graze against the sides of her breasts. Maybe the tickling wasn’t so bad after all… Just like when it came to homework, revision, battle, or anything, the trick was focusing. Maybe she had been approaching this whole thing wrong. Maybe the trick to enduring was to see that the tickling might actually be… nice?
Mikoto closed her eyes, tried not to think about the blindfold with its timer. She squealed and giggled with abandon, as the devices continues to stoke her into a ticklish frenzy, but this time she accepted it, and didn’t try to struggle to contain her laughter. She was following the current of ticklish mirth now, instead of trying to fight so hard against it. She let it flow from her unbidden, her mind’s eyes on the tickles that teased her body in all the ways she liked. She tried to ignore the squeezing of her sides and the mindmelting swabbing of the paintbrushes on her right foot. Her whole world became the gentle feathering along her thighs which sent a trickle of delicious warmth tingling through her body. Her whole world became the tender kisses and licks on her sensitive left foot, which were in dire need of some loving. Her whole world became the tantalizing scratches along the edge of her tender bosoms. She closed her eyes, as giggles and moans merged together and she lost herself to the laughter.
The brown-haired girl was almost disappointed when the tickling stopped, and a prerecorded message told her how well she had done to pass the trial. She almost blurted out the words “Don’t Stop”, as she tugged on her socks and shoes and left the room. She could still feel her feet tingling and a strange tightness in her stomach as she walked away. I wonder if I could start a tickle fight with Kuroko next time I see her… Mikoto thought as she trudged off, her mind still all over the place from what she had just experiences. Unbeknownst to her, a pigtailed student with red ribbons in hair walked out of the room shortly after, smacking her lips together and clapping her hands together in girlish joy.
“Now, wasn’t that fun, Onee-sama?” Kuroko said to herself cheerily, with a giggle.
