• The TMF is sponsored by Clips4sale - By supporting them, you're supporting us.
  • >>> If you cannot get into your account email me at [email protected] <<<
    Don't forget to include your username

The TMF is sponsored by:

Clips4Sale Banner

The Matrix Unbooted 2.0

Kid Indy

TMF Expert
Joined
Oct 12, 2001
Messages
365
Points
18
The Matrix: Unbooted 2.0

by

Kid Indy

Three weeks out from Zion, the Ahab was stationary in the works of the mechanical underworld, jacking into the Matrix on another mission in the war against the machines. The war was a slow one as of yet, each mission rescuing one mind from the machine, the system only occasionally fighting back. Although some said that the war was coming to a head soon, the crew of the Osiris had little time for the religious ramblings of Morpheus. They had a job to do.

Captain Ceres, a beautiful redhead even in real life, became a captain only days ago. This rescue mission was the first for the athletic twenty-six-year-old and her crew. The choice for the rescued was always a simple one: the blue pill to remain a part of the system, a red pill to join the revolution. With the exception of Sparky, the ship's operator, born in Zion, everyone aboard had once made that choice. Ceres waited in a motel room for Wallace, their target, to show up. She knew that on her signal, the getaway car would spirit them both to a more secret location for the tracking. In the virtual world, her black leather clung tight to a body whose natural tightness had been magnified to an airbrushed sex fantasy. For all the deception of the Matrix, she thought, I sure can make myself look good here. She fingered the safety on her automatic rifle as she sat on the bed. Her cell phone began to ring.

"This is Ceres, operator. Go."

"Bad news, cap. Agents inbound. You're going to have to get out of there."

"Alright, Sparky. I've got a hard line here in the room."

"Negative, cap. They've cut the hard line. Nearest intact line is..." A second and a half, or forever with an agent in pursuit, passed. "...across the street at the gas station. Go!"

"What about Jingo and Dabar?"

Another second and a half. "Dammit. They've engaged the agents. Get out of there, cap. They're fighting so you can get out!"

Ceres began to move towards the window. "Has Torque made it out?"

"Yeah. He's back in the ship. Now go!"

Ceres did not wait for the third warning. With speed that comes from knowing the rules and bending them, she opened the door, drew her pistols, and began to run towards the gas station. To her horror, two agents stood between her and the payphone. Even if she could count on her bullets hitting them, she couldn't risk damaging the land line, her ticket out. She stepped into a fighting stance, waiting for one of them to make a move. They fanned out quickly, making her split her concentration. Her long leg lashed out at one's agent's knee, but with a short hop he dodged it, extending his own leg and planting a kick on her that doubled her over. She rolled backwards with the impact, pushing off the ground and flipping back onto her feet. The other came with a flurry of punches that Ceres blocked only with the utmost concentration. So much that she did not see the first agent execute a foot sweep.

She tried to right herself, but the two programs pounced, pinning her to the ground and rolling her over on her stomach. As she attempted to execute a kick, to hit one of them with the back of her head, anything, they wrapped cord around her wrists, tying them efficiently. A third agent drove a car up to the curb, and they loaded her in. Two rode in front while agent number three sat in the back seat with her, pointing a pistol at her head. She turned her eyes in vain, hoping to see her teammates alive, knowing that they likely were casualties of the war.

The car drove a distance away from the center of the city and stopped at a suburban high school. Exiting the car, Ceres knew that this would be her last chance. She planted her first foot on the ground as she stepped out of the car but kicked the second leg high, letting the momentum carry her into a backflip onto the car's roof. A swift front kick snapped one agent's head back, and she made the second duck with a wheel kick, but the third was too fast. A strong hand grabbed her ankle, upending her again and dragging her off the car. "Tie her ankles, Agent Wilson." The agent that must have been Wilson did so, and the three carried Ceres into the building. She could vaguely remember being in one of these places before she had been enlightened. The remove that most people feel when they see a high school was even stranger to one who had learned that the buildings themselves are not material. She was still immobile as they carried her into the high school gymnasium, where she was greeted by a horrifying sight. After the agents set her on her feet and stepped away, a man whom she once knew took long strides towards her.

"Torque! Help me!"

"No, Ceres, for once, you're going to be helping me. I could deal with the fact that you were such a hot shot at the academy. I could even accept that you were going to be a captain before me. But when they made you my captain, that was it. I knew that I could do better."

"Torque, what the hell are you talking about?"

"What I'm talking about, Ceres, is power. You see, a person who is ignorant about the way things work has no power. That's where we were before we got unplugged. But a person who's always on the run doesn't have any power either. You can tell that right now, I'm sure."

"Torque, why aren't the agents fighting you?"

"Because I'm not fighting them, Ceres. What Sparky didn't have a chance to tell you earlier is that I'm not on the ship any more. I bailed out with an escape pod, and I'm on a temporary rig right now so that I can be in the Matrix. These nice gentlemen," with a gesture to the agents, "are escorting me back to the human fields. I'm plugging back in."

"Torque, you're an idiot! They aren't going to do any such thing! And if they do, they're going to erase your memory!"

"No, Ceres, you're the moron. I'm becoming a sort of Agent in my own right. You see, the computer can do a lot of things very well, but it's a lousy psychologist. I'm going to be one of their detectives."

"Torque, you're a worthless bastard, you know that?"

"No, I'm a powerful worthless bastard, and you're about to find out just how powerful I am. Boys, take the leather queen's suit off."

Ceres tried to keep her arms down, but the three agents quickly pulled her arms above her head, cut off her shirt, pulled her boots from her feet, and stripped the leather pants from her legs, cutting them when they came to the cord binding her ankles. They left her on the floor, covered only by her black underwear and a couple strips of cloth underneath her bonds. "So this is your power, Torque? I'm supposed to be impressed because you can use the Matrix's goons to bully me?"

"No, my pretty, there are all kinds of reasons why. For one, I've got the ability now to program on the fly." With that he waved his hand, making an object appear in the middle of the room. It looked like a bench, only higher off the ground. Covering the slats was a thick cushion, and attached to the slats were leather cuffs attached to thick ropes. With another wave of his hand a set of head and hands stocks appeared, attached to a padded kneeling bench with similar leather cuffs where the ankles might be. She braced herself, knowing that her body would give out at some point and render her unconscious.

Torque tilted his head and looked at his captive. "Do you know what's going to happen now? I bet you don't!"

"I know you can give real pain here, Torque. So go ahead. See if these agents don't kill you as soon as I pass out."

Torque looked to the agents to share in his laugh, but they stood stoically. "No, Ceres, I'm not going to use pain, and I'm not giving up so easily. You're going to lead some specially modified Sentinels to your ship, and then Balthasar is going to come to us."

Ceres thrashed and grunted. Her father Balthasar was a famous captain among the resistance, and he knew all the codes to Zion. Did Torque know that she already knew them? "I'm not going to do anything, you traitor! You can rot in hell for all I care!"

"I probably will for this, Ceres. I probably will." With that he motioned for the agents to put her in the stocks. She struggled when her hands were free, but one agent on each was too much, and with her legs still bound, she could not kick at them. Once her head and hands were secured, they untied her legs and put her ankles in the cuffs. Torque walked behind her, wolf whistling at the tight posterior that was arched up for his inspection. "You know, captain, this might just be worth hell."

Ceres braced herself for the whip or the cutting to begin. Instead, she felt warm fingers begin to trace up and down her sides, making her bound arms reflexively tighten and try to cover. "Alright, Torque. Get on with it. These agents don't want to watch your porn fantasy."

"You're right that this has been my fantasy for a while, but that isn't why I'm doing this. Or at least it's not the only reason." His fingers kept moving, now a little more quickly, from her ribs to her belly to her hips, light touches registering ever so slightly as they moved over her curves. "Your muscles are tensing up, Ceres. Could it be that you're getting a little ticklish on me?"

Ceres couldn't believe that she was being humiliated this way. But if he thought that this was going to make her reveal the ship's location, he was dead wrong. Trying not to let her voice falter, she said, "I wish you'd get on to whatever you're going to do."

"This is it, Ceres. Are you enjoying it yet?" One hand strayed to her front and made a light clawing motion on her tight belly. A slight but audible gasp escaped her. "Ooh, that's what I'm looking for. Now let's have a little fun."

With that he began to dig in harder, clawing at her belly with one hand while he fingered her ribs with the other. Ceres began to scream, calling Torque a freak and other names and repeating the word "Stop!" The agents looked puzzled; the system had not considered this kind of stimulation the kind that would draw such reactions. The hand that had been clawing the belly began to knead at her now-shaking hip while the other began to fiddle about in her armpit. Both hands were causing utter torment as Ceres felt the front of Torque's pants expand against her bottom. He would squeeze a hip and give a singular, palpable sensation of electricity while the other hand danced on her side, making that whole part of her body ticklish without being able to tell just where the fingers were going. She knew that Torque sometimes had downloaded some strange stuff into his skills bank, but this was unbearable.

Torque's grin widened (along with the continued growth of other things) as he heard the sound coming that he had been waiting for: though she didn't want to, though she wished that she could just scream and curse, Ceres' body was beginning to betray her. With the shift of his right hand from her ribs to her inner thigh, Ceres began to laugh. Hard. And his hands did not slow down. He kept playing with her, now gaining music as if the lump of clay had become a musical instrument. A squeeze of the ribs brought a squeal, and the fluttering of digits against her inner thight brought a trill of sweet giggles. As he continued the torment the cell phone in her discarded pants pocket began to ring, and Torque stopped. "I'll get that."

Torque, walking around where Ceres could see him and flipping open the lid on the phone, began to talk to someone on the other line.

"Well! Hello, Sparky! Yes, I am here with Ceres and a few friends." A few seconds passed. "Yes, she is laughing... No, I wouldn't say she thinks things are funny right now, but I'm trying to convince her!... They're not going to kill her, Sparky. They want Balthasar, and they want into Zion. Now if I were you, I'd abandon ship, because Sentinels are on their way. There's still one escape pod left, and Jingo and Dabar won't be using it." Ceres' heart sunk; she had lost one of her crew to desertion and two to the agents. She only hoped that Sparky would live to fight another day. "You can stay there if you want, Sparky, but the Sentinels won't follow you if you leave. If you stay, they'll kill you. Good day." He hung up the phone. "Now do you see what I mean?"

Ceres, still with a shaky voice, replied, "You aren't scaring me, bastard. I know you can't trace that transmission."

"No, but they can trace the sound of your laughter. Remember, your body back on the ship is laughing just as hard as you are, and the Sentinel that's coming is homing in on it right now." He turned to the Agents. "Okay, boys, now you're going to see the best way of doing this." Looking back at Ceres, he asked slyly, "Your feet don't happen to be ticklish, do they?"

"NO!" came out before she could gather herself. Trying to make a save, she attempted to say calmly, "No, they're not. Now that I know what you're up to, I'm not making another sound. I'll die in the Matrix, you rat." But as he walked around behind her, the defiance crumbled. She began to beg for him to stop, but this only drew a chuckle from behind her. "I hope this is good for you, Ceres."

He began by raking his fingers down both soles at once, bringing Ceres right back to the brink of laughing. She pressed her lips together as hard as she could, but he would not stop. Before long, and before he even got to her long, lovely toes, she had begun laughing again. But soon afterwards he stopped. She heard him walking around to her front again. "I almost forgot. For this part, since we need a fairly constant signal, I'm going to resort to some other methods." With another wave of his hand he produced a black leather briefcase which he opened so that she could see. Inside the case Ceres could see an awful array of feathers, hair brushes, vials of oil, leather straps, and other implements, all of which she could only imagine working on her already-delicate feet. "I would ask you to keep laughing for the duration, but I think you'll manage just fine."

With that he moved back behind her and grabbed one of her big toes. She yelped as he did so, and she soon felt a leather strap tied around it and bound to the kneeling bench. She tried to wiggle her toes to save the other foot from the same, but to no avail. The sweating young captain panted as she anticipated what was to come. He began once more with his fingers, raking them down and then up her now-taut soles and starting her giggling again. As he switched to a hairbrush, her laugh increased in intensity and she finally gave up on trying to keep quiet. As he kept going on her soles, she could barely make out the agents, still standing where they could see her, nodding in approval. Her laugh had become a steady, melodious song, and she knew that her own feet were leading the enemy to her location. She forced a scream out now and then, but she could not stop. The tickling, even though she knew it would betray her, was unbearable. The brushes on her soles overrode any connection between her fear and her demeanor. Her horror and her hysterical giggles only swelled when Torque started sliding thin, firm feathers between her toes, lighting up the room with higher pitched laughter. Torque began to taunt her from behind the stocks, "Isn't it lovely? All that training, all that natural talent. And it means nothing when I'm tickling your feet like this. You're betraying yourself, you're betraying your father, and I don't even need thirty silver coins. Just a cuople feathers. Isn't that funny, Ceres?" She wanted to kill, wanted to curse, could only giggle and thrash.

Ceres could not tell how much time had passed when an agent began to step forward. "The mission is complete, Torque. Her body has been captured."

The tickling stopped, and Ceres could only hang her head. Now she had stopped being a fighter and had become a hostage. But one part of her rejoiced in the fact that the tickling had at last stopped. She heard Torque whispering in her ear from behind. "Of course, what's ironic is that your actual feet had little to do with this. All this is a direct feed into your brain. But it still feels like I just tickled your feet for ten minutes, doesn't it?"

"It felt like an hour, Torque. Now quit gloating and put me in my cell."

"No cells yet, Ceres. I brought two devices online. You've only experienced one of them."

"WHAT?"

"You see, the Sentinel that got into your ship took your entire chair with it and plugged you directly into the system. Before, I only had control over the environment around you. Now that you're back in the system and not hacking in, I can control... you."

"What are you doing, Torque?"

"We've got to send a message to Balthasar, so the next little while is going to be a video." Speaking louder, to the agents, he said, "Put her on the bench." Ceres had no strength left to fight. The agents picked her up like an inert mass and put her on the bench. Now she could move her hands and feet, about twelve inches each, but could not bring them together or cover up. Torque pointed at her, and she felt a strange sensation wash over her.

"Now, Ceres, I have direct control over your nerve sensitivity. Before I was doing what one can do to an independent body. Now I'm going to go much further. Roll cameras, boys!" With that he began to reach in and poke her abdomen. He was right; Ceres had become so much more ticklish that she could not stand it. As the traitor worked on her belly, her armpits, her hips, her feet, the ropes allowed just enough room to let her squirming limbs express her unbelievable ticklish agony. And on top of the normal tickling, now her body was beginning even to crave sexual satisfaction. She could not tell whether that was the tickling itself or the manipulation that Torque was working on her, but it did not matter; she began to moan between laughs, arching her back even as she thrashed and giggled and squealed.

Torque talked as Ceres laughed: "You see, Ceres, until your father comes up to the machine world to rescue you, I've got absolute control over you. I can tickle you wherever I want and make you as ticklish as I could ever dream. And the only people who could ever get you away from me are the agents. And I know that you've got nothing they would want. But you know what I want, and you've got plenty of ticklish spots!"

"Go to hell" was the most Ceres could manage between squeals, and as she laughed herself further into her squirming fit, Torque was putting her body into throes like she had never felt in the real world. He poked her belly, and shockwaves went to the ends of her fingertips. He squeezed a hip and sent her arms flying as far as the restraints would allow. She thrashed and struggled, but her movements were no longer any function of escape or even of defending herself. Her body was dancing now, or at least the digital projection of her body, and Ceres could only wish that she were a spectator. As her body radiated her ticklish energy (why did she keep thinking of it as her body? Could this tickling make her forget everything she learned in training?), something horrifying happened: a voice in her head, behind the sensory overload and rising sexual desire, began to recite the codes to Zion's mainframe. Her eyes flew open in horror, but a vestige of discipline forced them shut again.

Now Torque's voice whispered in her ear. "I know what you're thinking. What if I got hold of those gorgeous, soft, ticklish feet of yours right now? Would you promise me anything I ever wanted? You'd better be sure I don't get them! I'm gonna get you! I'm gonna get you!" Torque continued his child-taunting chant as his left hand kept working Ceres' hip, drawing forth streams of giggles that had never before been tapped. She fought as much as she could, knowing that her struggles to avoid his grasping hand now had no dignity to it but fighting like a trapped animal for fear of that horrible, anticipated tickling that her foot would receive. His hand brushed the top of her foot, she pulled away. She kicked one foot, then the other, the rhythm of her kicking melding with the melody of her laughter, the music that she could feel so intensely that she could not hear. His fingers brushed skin, closed partly around one ankle, then another, his left hand still playing havoc with her armpit. All the while a white-hot desire for release welled up in her brain, framed by the swirling digits of the passcodes that she must not divulge. Her right foot caught up short; he had it. She screamed out.

The tickling stopped just for a moment. Ceres' eyes flew open to see Torque licking his lips. "Now, Ceres, you're going to start making promises. You'll offer me anything just to make me stop. But I've got in my hand now what I want most in the world. What do you think about that?" Ceres could only shake her head feebly from side to side. Her awareness of the Matrix was shot; that really was her foot being drawn closer to his mouth, and he really was going to tickle her senseless. And she really wanted just one hand to reach between her legs--a moment would be all she needed. When his tongue made contact with the sole of her foot, even these thoughts exploded.

Ceres' head flew back into the pillow. Her eyes strained shut as a sound, part cry and part moan but all laugh, started to pour forth. She had no strength left for bravado or even assertion; between desperate giggles now the proud woman, her red hair sweat-laden, only begged. Newly aware of her foot, she imagined what a tongue would feel. In the ecstasy of the moment she could almost feel how soft, how smooth it must be, even as that awful tongue ran its way up her sole towards the toes. Her hips now throbbed as his tonge shot between two toes and his lips wrapped around one, then another, then another. There were no more agents. There was no Matrix. Just this tickling. Only her exhaustion, the all-consuming sensation of the tickling kept her from reciting the codes. Just give me a second, she thought, and everything is yours. Just let up for a second. Her mouth kept mouthing the same word: "Please... please... please... please..."

Ceres was still saying "Please" when they unplugged her. Her body was exhausted, and she was still giggling in her chair. She found herself in a more familiar setting. Her feet tingled in their simple boots, her hair matted to her forehead. She was sitting in a connection chair, in the Ahab, but she didn't remember picking up a phone. She heard a familiar voice.

"Wow, cap. That was some intense stuff." Ceres, unplugging the remaining cords, looked up to see Dabar looking on. Her hands were shaking, and she still felt like tittering. Next to him was Jingo, and Sparky had just entered the room. Ceres was furious, but as she stood shakily up to begin chewing people out, her father, Balthasar, his graying hair bluish as he entered the light of the room, held up a hand to silence her protests.

"You had all the codes that would destroy us memorized, but you never once considered divulging it in order to get out of your torture. You've proven that we can trust you on surface missions. Congratulations." The others began to clap and laugh for their new captain.

"What the hell was all that tickling stuff, then? Whose idea was that?" Balthasar looked over his shoulder, and Ceres followed his eyes to see Torque sitting in the shadows, unplugging himself from a simulation chair. He got up and walked with cocky strides to join the group.

"Like I said, it's always been a fantasy. We didn't want to risk doing permanent damage to you, so I volunteered my idea."

"I request that this man be taken from my ship."

Balthasar smiled briefly. "No, I think he's been the one who has put you to this test. And those who test us prepare us for the battles ahead. I think the two of you will do great things in this war." With that, he exited the ship, still docked in Zion.

As the other crew left to gather their things for their voyage, Ceres sat alone in the captain's chair. She heard something moving, and she saw Torque's head pop through the door. "I know you were enjoying that last part, Ceres. The others had hunches, but I looked at your vitals towards the end of the simulation. You were dying for me to get you off. If you ever want to try it again, I've got the program in the computer and some ropes and feathers at home." His tone was sarcastic, but Ceres could tell that he had the will to carry it out.

"Go to hell, Torque. I mean it. Now get your stuff together." Torque slapped the hull of the ship as he departed. A smile, not entirely unwanted, came to Ceres' face.

* * * * * * *

First of all, thanks to Master Cartman for his praise of the first version. I got through, read it, and realized that I'd rushed the ending. This version ought to rectify that. Any feedback, from Cartman or others, is always welcome. Thanks everyone!

KI
 
i never read a Matrix story before. you did a great job! any more coming?
 
wow, once again u made it sweeter to the ears.

is there a possibility u could make a sequel? *begs on his knees* i can't get enough of it! keep up the kick ass work, ass kicker. lol.:D ;)
 
I can give it a shot, but I'll have to come up with some kind of scenario. I hadn't really had sequels in mind when I wrote it, but I'll think on it...

BTW, thanks for the feedback.

KI
 
Wow. An oldie from me. I never did get the third installment of this written, but there is one sequel floating about out there.
 
What's New

4/19/2024
Check out the huge number of thicklign clips that can be found at Clips4Sale. The webs biggest fetish clip store!
Tickle Experiment
Door 44
NEST 2024
Register here
The world's largest online clip store
Live Camgirls!
Live Camgirls
Streaming Videos
Pic of the Week
Pic of the Week
Congratulations to
*** brad1701 ***
The winner of our weekly Trivia, held every Sunday night at 11PM EST in our Chat Room
Back
Top