Tickle Zone 4 My story - Me.
Part 3 of the series: https://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?352974-Tickle-Zone-3-A-tickle-partner-for-her-F-F
We see a young woman who is vacuuming on what was once a plush carpet. There are several spots on the carpet that have seen better days. She pushes the loud vacuum cleaner over these areas nevertheless, knowing that it will make little difference in the end. The sound of the vacuum slowly fades out even though she is still cleaning. We hear the sound of the narrator, who speaks to us with an authoritative voice.
“What you see is a woman… A woman who goes by the name of Sandy. She is caught in a chore that is familiar. So familiar in fact that by the time she finishes, she will not care that there will be very little debris in the bag. Yet, through all the absurdity, with no sense of fulfillment, it becomes a ‘quiet’ time for her; a time of private reflection. But this time it will go deeper… Deeper into that realm we like to call… The Tickle Zone.” The sound of the vacuum remains as background noise, as the male narrator voice is replaced by a female one.
————
“So, you want to hear my story do you now…"
“There’s not really much to tell I’m sure, as I am not self-aware…usually. I go through moments of stress, relaxation, activity, just like everybody else I suppose. These intervals of time seemed to be pretty balanced, I think in general. I say this because, I have nothing to compare this experience with. I have lived a pretty isolated life really. The ‘down’ time of my existence is as good a place to start to talk about as any other time, so we can start there.”
“It occurs at the end of a ‘period’, if that means anything to you. It is the longest space of inactivity, a moment where I can recover if you will. It also contains the lightest feeling. That is to say, there are no confinements during this period. I like it sometimes when it’s colder, sometimes when it’s warmer. Sometimes, I like the feeling of rubbing up against the other similarly textured surface. When I am treated well, (this also seems to occur sporadically) the rubbing is quite nice and helps me to relax. I can feel the surface resting, becoming more pliable during this phase. There are places along the surface though that seem to almost always be in need of attention. I think it is because of the regular pressure, exhibited throughout the active period. I don’t know. Could be excessive rubbing, I suppose.”
“I hope that I’m not boring you with all this useless information. But you did want to know you said.”
“I could try and relate a unique experience. Would that help?”
“It happened during one of those too far and few in-between times… the pampering. Ah yes, the pampering… Mmmm… that is like a vacation to me. The rough places are made smooth. There is a certain amount of decoration involved. But I don’t benefit from that so much. It’s hard to put into words really. It’s like the outside world is made ’thinner’, more responsive for me. Almost too much, I would say…”
“but I digress…”
“I was going to talk to you about the ‘unique experience’.”
“Anyway… It happened just before the ‘down’ time. Of course, I was counting on the normal routine. But not this time… This time there was confinement. Confinement WITHOUT the coverings. Odd… there was always confinement WITH the coverings before. To me, it was practically the same thing. I knew something was wrong. I tried to move. I could not. I flexed. It only made me want to move more, but this I could not do. I felt… felt… I shudder, even to this day just thinking about it. The feeling of being trapped…Then, suddenly there was… an extremely smooth and light ‘thing’ about an inch wide, brushing up the length of my surface. It felt extremely thin and flexible, as it rippled ever so slightly over me. The effect was like an electrical discharge that forced out neuronic signals like wildfire throughout the system. It was so tormenting! If the pressure of the thing had been little lighter, I could have dismissed it entirely as some rather annoying itch. If the pressure were heavier, I could have considered it as some erroneously irritating massage. But no, it teased me exactly in that grey area of force. I just wanted it to stop so badly! It was an incredible irritation, one that couldn’t be deflected or abated, no matter what I did or tried. And the cursed thing wouldn’t stop moving, exploring and probing either. What did it want? What was the cause? My synapses began firing out of control. Involuntarily flexing of muscle, unable to escape or control the stimulus … A feeling of sheer and utter panic raced to and from the Control Center… I wanted it to stop in the worst way…but yet.”
“And this was the strange part. It was pleasurable… no, it was beyond pleasurable…”
“The devilish thing swished and lightly stroked back and forth, in a seemingly never ending but totally random pattern, causing me… No, forcing me to accept this new sensation. I could not measure the time, but it seemed to go on and on... relentlessly. I tried spreading my digits. I tried arching, flexing… anything to escape from the velvety touch of the maniacal intruder. Then something in the Control Center gave way I suppose. It took the stimulus, the response, and twisted it into a different one altogether. I was now, without explanation, curling my digits. The new signal from the Control Center took over and I found myself in a contorted, spasmodic position… All I could do was "take it" and ride the wave.”
“I hope that I will experience this sensation again sometime.”
"Yeah, sometimes I will fall asleep if the circulation isn’t good enough. And it can be painful if Sandy spends too much time in the standing position. But as Sandy's foot, what are ya going to do?”
The scene suddenly shifts to night, where we she Sandy's bare feet sticking out from underneath the bed covers. Her soles and toes involuntarily flex as though she were dreaming of being foot tickled. She giggles in her sleep.
————
Back in 2018, I wrote the original version of this tickle story. I wanted it to be a story with a surprise twist ending. In other words, more or less a Twilight Zone kind of thing. Since then, I actually have a Tickle Zone series now, and I think this fits in into that genre perfectly. Thus, I have merely modified the beginning and the end to make it so.
Part 3 of the series: https://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?352974-Tickle-Zone-3-A-tickle-partner-for-her-F-F
We see a young woman who is vacuuming on what was once a plush carpet. There are several spots on the carpet that have seen better days. She pushes the loud vacuum cleaner over these areas nevertheless, knowing that it will make little difference in the end. The sound of the vacuum slowly fades out even though she is still cleaning. We hear the sound of the narrator, who speaks to us with an authoritative voice.
“What you see is a woman… A woman who goes by the name of Sandy. She is caught in a chore that is familiar. So familiar in fact that by the time she finishes, she will not care that there will be very little debris in the bag. Yet, through all the absurdity, with no sense of fulfillment, it becomes a ‘quiet’ time for her; a time of private reflection. But this time it will go deeper… Deeper into that realm we like to call… The Tickle Zone.” The sound of the vacuum remains as background noise, as the male narrator voice is replaced by a female one.
————
“So, you want to hear my story do you now…"
“There’s not really much to tell I’m sure, as I am not self-aware…usually. I go through moments of stress, relaxation, activity, just like everybody else I suppose. These intervals of time seemed to be pretty balanced, I think in general. I say this because, I have nothing to compare this experience with. I have lived a pretty isolated life really. The ‘down’ time of my existence is as good a place to start to talk about as any other time, so we can start there.”
“It occurs at the end of a ‘period’, if that means anything to you. It is the longest space of inactivity, a moment where I can recover if you will. It also contains the lightest feeling. That is to say, there are no confinements during this period. I like it sometimes when it’s colder, sometimes when it’s warmer. Sometimes, I like the feeling of rubbing up against the other similarly textured surface. When I am treated well, (this also seems to occur sporadically) the rubbing is quite nice and helps me to relax. I can feel the surface resting, becoming more pliable during this phase. There are places along the surface though that seem to almost always be in need of attention. I think it is because of the regular pressure, exhibited throughout the active period. I don’t know. Could be excessive rubbing, I suppose.”
“I hope that I’m not boring you with all this useless information. But you did want to know you said.”
“I could try and relate a unique experience. Would that help?”
“It happened during one of those too far and few in-between times… the pampering. Ah yes, the pampering… Mmmm… that is like a vacation to me. The rough places are made smooth. There is a certain amount of decoration involved. But I don’t benefit from that so much. It’s hard to put into words really. It’s like the outside world is made ’thinner’, more responsive for me. Almost too much, I would say…”
“but I digress…”
“I was going to talk to you about the ‘unique experience’.”
“Anyway… It happened just before the ‘down’ time. Of course, I was counting on the normal routine. But not this time… This time there was confinement. Confinement WITHOUT the coverings. Odd… there was always confinement WITH the coverings before. To me, it was practically the same thing. I knew something was wrong. I tried to move. I could not. I flexed. It only made me want to move more, but this I could not do. I felt… felt… I shudder, even to this day just thinking about it. The feeling of being trapped…Then, suddenly there was… an extremely smooth and light ‘thing’ about an inch wide, brushing up the length of my surface. It felt extremely thin and flexible, as it rippled ever so slightly over me. The effect was like an electrical discharge that forced out neuronic signals like wildfire throughout the system. It was so tormenting! If the pressure of the thing had been little lighter, I could have dismissed it entirely as some rather annoying itch. If the pressure were heavier, I could have considered it as some erroneously irritating massage. But no, it teased me exactly in that grey area of force. I just wanted it to stop so badly! It was an incredible irritation, one that couldn’t be deflected or abated, no matter what I did or tried. And the cursed thing wouldn’t stop moving, exploring and probing either. What did it want? What was the cause? My synapses began firing out of control. Involuntarily flexing of muscle, unable to escape or control the stimulus … A feeling of sheer and utter panic raced to and from the Control Center… I wanted it to stop in the worst way…but yet.”
“And this was the strange part. It was pleasurable… no, it was beyond pleasurable…”
“The devilish thing swished and lightly stroked back and forth, in a seemingly never ending but totally random pattern, causing me… No, forcing me to accept this new sensation. I could not measure the time, but it seemed to go on and on... relentlessly. I tried spreading my digits. I tried arching, flexing… anything to escape from the velvety touch of the maniacal intruder. Then something in the Control Center gave way I suppose. It took the stimulus, the response, and twisted it into a different one altogether. I was now, without explanation, curling my digits. The new signal from the Control Center took over and I found myself in a contorted, spasmodic position… All I could do was "take it" and ride the wave.”
“I hope that I will experience this sensation again sometime.”
"Yeah, sometimes I will fall asleep if the circulation isn’t good enough. And it can be painful if Sandy spends too much time in the standing position. But as Sandy's foot, what are ya going to do?”
The scene suddenly shifts to night, where we she Sandy's bare feet sticking out from underneath the bed covers. Her soles and toes involuntarily flex as though she were dreaming of being foot tickled. She giggles in her sleep.
————
Back in 2018, I wrote the original version of this tickle story. I wanted it to be a story with a surprise twist ending. In other words, more or less a Twilight Zone kind of thing. Since then, I actually have a Tickle Zone series now, and I think this fits in into that genre perfectly. Thus, I have merely modified the beginning and the end to make it so.
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I didn't guess the ending until almost the end. 
