Strelnikov
4th Level Red Feather
- Joined
- May 7, 2001
- Messages
- 1,820
- Points
- 0
by Strelnikov
Copyright 2003 by the author
Dramatis Personae (in order of appearance)
Morgan Ernst
A.K.A. Girl Genius. Age 18, medium height, slender, with curly brown hair and brown eyes. She gets straight A’s in all subjects. She hasn’t been in town for long, her family moved to Tieson City at the beginning of the previous summer. She’s extremely ticklish. Because of a horrible experience in her former town, she had a deathly fear of tickling – but her neighbors cured that!
Joanna Shaw
Joanna has lived on Tickle Street all of her 18 years, and she had always been the perfect female athlete. She’s extremely fit and very attractive, with blue eyes, dark brown hair cut in a page bob, and freckled fair skin. She excels in sports – her room is filled with trophies. She sees her ticklishness as a great weakness, and now prefers to do unto others before they can do unto her.
Brittany Righetti
Brittany is Joanna’s cousin – their mothers are sisters. She has lived all of her 18 years on Tickle Street. She has long, dark hair and brown eyes, a beautiful Italian face and features, curves in all the right places. She has a bit of an attitude, but it can quickly be destroyed if she's tickled, and her twin older sisters Vicky and Veronica always take advantage of that.
Vicky and Veronica Righetti
They’re “mirror twins” – identical, but Vicky, the leader, is a lefty (Latin “sinister”) and Veronica is right handed. They’re 20 years old, medium height, with very trim and fit figures that they maintain by martial arts. They have shoulder length wavy dark brown hair, dark brows and lashes, brown eyes. They’re extremely ticklish, but since they’re a team, they don’t get tickled much.
********************
Morgan slipped outside and pulled the door shut after her. She shivered in her jeans and sweat shirt – the spring Saturday morning was still a little chilly. But that was no big deal – she would warm up as soon as she started hiking.
She crossed the street diagonally to Joanna’s house and knocked. Joanna came to the door in a robe, barefoot, with a towel around her hair. Joanna ran two miles every morning – eight times up and down the quarter-mile length of Tickle Street – she had just finished her shower. She invited Morgan in, there was coffee left from breakfast.
“What brings you here this morning?” Joanna asked over coffee.
“I’ve been fighting the Battle of the Bulge lately,” Morgan replied. “I was gonna go for a hike in the Hundred Acre Wood. Care to come along?”
“Why me? Where’s Ashley?”
“She’s off on a road trip this weekend. Something to do with her modeling job at the mall.” Morgan frowned. “Anyway, Ashley’s been acting weird since last weekend. Remember, she didn’t show up at Candice’s house for our Vellatrices gathering, and she’s been avoiding me at school. I wonder if I’ve somehow made her mad at me.”
“It’s not just you, Morgan,” Joanna said. “She’s been like that with everybody this week.”
“Well, I haven’t been able to figure it out,” Morgan said. “I hope she gets over it soon, whatever it is. Anyway, do you want to come hiking with me?”
“Sorry,” Joanna said. “I’d like that, but I told Mom I’d do laundry this morning. But I’ll see you this afternoon at Candice’s house. Let’s jump Meghan and tickle her senseless – she deserves a dose of misery after the way she tickled me last weekend.”
“Sounds good. See you then.”
Morgan cut through Joanna’s back yard and jumped the fence, headed for the woods to the north.
A trail started a few yards in and ran east-and-west behind the subdivision. Morgan followed it to Owl Creek and turned left onto another that ran along the bank. Half a mile further on, she came to the abandoned railroad grade and crossed the old iron bridge over the creek to the other side.
The bank had an easy slope here. Morgan scrambled down to the water’s edge and headed downstream to the big flat rock that hung out over the stream. The water was down since the last time she had been here – then, the rock had been under water, part of a rapid. She sat on the rock and trailed a hand in the water – it was still icy cold.
Ashley’s behavior the past week bothered Morgan. The two were an odd couple, a brainiac and a beauty queen, but their personalities were complementary. They helped each other – Ashley’s grades had improved, and Morgan had given up her geekiest outfits in favor of some that were much more stylish. They had become best friends.
What had happened last Saturday? Ashley had been her usual self when Morgan had visited her in her dressing room after the fashion show. Ashley had been planning to come to the Vellatrices gathering, had some techniques she wanted to try out on her friend. But she hadn’t shown up, and all last week had blown Morgan off.
I miss her, Morgan thought. I’ll fix what’s wrong, whatever it is. But how can I, if she won’t talk to me?
A splash – Morgan looked up. There – a deer!
The deer – a doe – looked up from drinking and saw her. This was the first deer Morgan had seen since she had started coming here – the Hundred Acre Wood was actually about a mile square, but that’s still pretty small to support deer. Nor had the animal seen many people over the past winter – this place was within city limits, no hunting was allowed. It would have been hard to say who was most surprised.
Morgan rose quietly to her feet, backed slowly away…
…and stepped backward off the rock into the stream, shin deep in the cold water.
Shit! Morgan slipped and nearly went over, but caught herself before she fell. When she looked up again, the doe was gone.
Morgan took off her sneakers, socks and jeans. She did her best to wring the water out of the jeans and socks and put them back on. There was no help for the shoes, though. Better head back home and dry out – it was still too cool to tolerate being wet.
Morgan’s World War II infantryman grandfather could have told her all about wet shoes and blisters. Her left foot started hurting a quarter mile back toward home. She sat, pulled off the shoe and sock to investigate. Sure enough, there was a blister starting, the skin on her heel had started turning red.
She pulled off the other shoe and sock, knotted the laces together and hung them around her neck. But the creekside path was a little too rough for Morgan’s tender city-slicker feet. She took the next fork to the right – taking the path through the clearing was the long way, but the trail was better, and the clearing itself was grassy. Morgan stopped in the clearing, sat on a rock and inspected her feet. She had made a good choice – no blisters, no stone bruises, just dirt and grass stains.
Brittany came out of the woods at a dead run. She was in jeans and a long-sleeve t-shirt, barefoot, her long dark hair trailing behind her like a flag. She kept on running and disappeared into the woods on the other side of the clearing.
One of the twins – Morgan could never tell them apart – came out the woods after Brittany. The other appeared from another trail – apparently she had tried to head Brittany off. They wore cargo pants, sweat shirts and sneakers. Both were running flat out. A brindle-colored mutt – their dog Spanky – ran after them, barking with excitement.
The twins stopped in the clearing, breathing hard. Brittany was gone – she had made a clean getaway.
“Wooo!” one of them – Vicky? – said. “I thought we had her. How could she run so fast in clogs?”
“She took ‘em off,” Veronica said. “They’re back on the trail.”
“So much for our experiment. I was looking forward to it.”
“Not to worry – we’ll get her later.”
Morgan had heard about the twins from the other girls. They said that being tickled by Vicky and Veronica was a truly memorable experience – Brittany had just escaped some serious tickling. Now if she could just manage to do the same… She stood and eased backward, toward the woods, keeping them in sight.
Spanky started barking. Morgan whirled and ran for it.
Vicky and Veronica caught her just short of the woods. There was a brief struggle, and Morgan landed on her back. Each twin grabbed an ankle and stood up, leaving Morgan sprawled helpless on the grass with both feet in the air.
“Please, Vicky!” Morgan begged. “Don’t tickle me!” She tried to pull loose, but the sisters were a lot stronger than they looked.
“Check it out, sis,” Vicky said. “Dirty feet.”
“Wanna tickle ‘em clean?” Veronica asked.
“NOOOO!” Morgan yelled. “Letmego letmego letmeGO!”
“I like the way you think,” Vicky said.
“Great minds think alike. Jeez, they’re dirty! This may take a while. Let’s see…”
Veronica circled a fingernail in Morgan’s right arch, and Morgan burst into helpless ticklish laughter. Vicky drew figure-eight’s on Morgan’s left heel, and the laughter went up a notch. Then Veronica held back the toes of the right foot and scratched the exact center of the sole, along the crease. Morgan bucked violently and laughed her head off. Veronica had found THE SPOT, where Morgan’s feet were unbearably ticklish – the exact center of her soles, along the crease.
Then both twins got down to business, scratching and scrabbling, toes to heels and back again, covering both feet with unbearable tickling. Their tickling fingernails flew over Morgan’s feet, bringing forth peal after peal of laughter. They held her toes back and tickled the soft skin underneath, scratched the soles, drew circles around the balls of her feet while she laughed like mad.
Down the arches to the heels, drawing circles and other tickling shapes, then back onto the arches. Each girl scratched the ball of a foot with a single fingernail, circling round and round. Once each circle they got on the sweet spot and gave it a few extra nail flicks – Morgan’s laughter went off the scale. Then onto the sweet spots again, and Morgan laughed at the top of her lungs. She wasn’t struggling any more – all resistance had been tickled out of her.
The tickling fingers speeded up, flicking and scratching the sensitive soles. It was more than Morgan could bear. She laughed herself breathless.
They paused and inspected Morgan’s feet. “They need more work, sis,” Vicky said.
“Give ‘em a rest. Remember our experiment?”
“Did you bring it?”
“Grabbed it on the way out the door,” Veronica replied. “It’s in my leg pocket. But it can wait. Enjoy yourself.”
Morgan was weak and limp from the tickling – she laid there gasping, trying to get her breathing and heart rate normal again. The others had told her about this, some of them in great detail. But this was the first time she had experienced Vicky and Veronica in action – and it was all true!
The twins let go of Morgan’s ankles. Vicky was an upper body tickler by preference – she straddled Morgan’s hips and pinned both wrists over her head with one hand. She lifted the bottom of the sweat shirt and circled a single fingernail in Morgan’s navel. Morgan squirmed and struggled, laughing like a crazy woman. Vicky tickled Morgan’s tummy, side to side, then back to navel tickling until Morgan thought she would go crazy.
Veronica kneeled near Morgan’s pinned wrists, facing her sister. Vicky turned Morgan’s wrists loose, but Veronica pinned them again with one hand, shifting her weight to anchor them. And now Vicky had both hands free to do what she did best. She tickled up under the sweat shirt, getting on each rib, then on the ticklish spaces in between. Four times her hands roamed up and down, while Morgan’s ticklish laughter filled the air.
Veronica reached down to Morgan’s tummy and took up navel tickling. Morgan squirmed like a worm, laughing sweetly, trying desperately to escape the tickling. Vicky tickled down onto Morgan’s sides, gave her victim a few pokes for variety, then lobster-clawed the sides. Vicky’s tickling hands roamed Morgan’s midsection, onto the tummy, crossing over, then back to the sides, over and over.
Morgan wasn’t capable of coordinated movement any more, or even coherent thought. Veronica turned Morgan’s wrists loose and added her two-handed effort to the tummy tickling. Vicky went back to tickling Morgan’s sides, onto her hip bones, then the sensitive sides again. They didn’t quit until they reduced Morgan to red-faced, gasping silent laughter.
Another break. Veronica fished around in her cargo pocket and came out with a small glass jar – the sort pesto sauce comes in – and a teaspoon. The jar was full of some sort of heavy amber liquid with dark flecks floating in it.
“Time for our experiment, sis,” Veronica said. “We didn’t tickle her feet clean, maybe Spanky can do it.”
“Please… No more…” Morgan begged. Her ribs and abs ached from laughing.
“We won’t tickle you, Morgan – at least, not for a little while,” Vicky said. She dismounted, rolled Morgan onto her tummy, grabbed her wrists. “Ready when you are, sis.”
Veronica straddled Morgan’s legs facing aft. “Here goes. I love this! I really do!” She opened the jar and spooned a generous amount of cold bacon grease onto Morgan’s soles. She added dabs between Morgan’s toes, more on the heels and arches.
“Oh…ghod…” Morgan said, still more than a little breathless. “Ewww. What… are you… doing?”
Veronica whistled for the dog. He came bounding up, smelled the bacon grease and stopped, whining with anticipation.
“Go for it!” Veronica told him.
Spanky licked Morgan’s soles, and Morgan howled again with forced mirth.
“Check it out!” Veronica said. “He’s really lapping it up!”
“Does that make him a lap dog?” Vicky asked.
Veronica groaned at the bad pun. “That’s another five minutes of tickling I owe you,” she said.
“Promises, promises!”
But Morgan didn’t hear any more – she was too busy laughing. The grease hung on pretty well – the dog really had to work to get it off her feet. His tongue licked and lapped – flicking along her soles, between her toes, on her arches and heels, for a very long time indeed. Morgan laughed wildly, eyes closed, tears of laughter streaming down her cheeks as the tickling expanded to fill her universe.
Spanky finished and sat back lickling his chops. Veronica inspected Morgan’s feet, stroked a nail across the right sole, down the arch to the heel and lingered to draw tiny circles. Morgan burst into laughter again.
“How did it do?” Vicky asked.
“Not too bad. They’re mostly clean,” Veronica said, and stopped tickling. “Hey Morgan, did that tickle?”
“Yes… yes… oh ghod yes…” Morgan gasped out.
“Give her some more, sis,” Vicky said.
Veronica dabbed a little more grease on the sweet spots. Morgan laughed and laughed as Spanky licked them clean again.
Morgan laid there gasping. Her hair was messed up, with grass and leaves tangled in it. She was sweat soaked, her throat was dry, her abs felt like they had been beaten with a board. This was worse than Old Man Johnson and his tickle dungeon, back in her old home town – much worse. They were gonna tickle her to death – she just knew it!
Vicky let go of Morgan’s wrists and knee walked next to her sister. “They look pretty good to me,” she said. She reached over and tickled in Morgan’s arch, forcing another howl of ticklish laughter. “Not too greasy either.”
Morgan heard the response through her own ticklish laughter. “Spanky got it all. Wanna give him some more?”
“Nah… It’ll just give him the runs. Come on, let’s finish this.”
And now both of them were tickling her, fingernails scratching and flicking the ticklish soles. Morgan’s laughter had an edge of desperation now, she was very near the end of her endurance. They tickled faster, four hands now, heels and soles, both feet, and tickled Morgan breathless for the third time.
Vicky stood and extended a hand to her sister. “Come on, sis – our work here is done.”
“One more to go,” Veronica said, and whistled for the dog. Morgan still couldn’t move, but she figured they were moving away from the sound of Veronica’s voice. “Get Candice, and we’ve made a clean sweep.”
Morgan heard Vicky say, “But Candice loves to be tickled. We’ll have to come up with something a lot more fiendish than this to get to her.”
“Well, I have an idea…”
And that was it – they were gone, and their dog with them. Morgan rolled onto her back and laid there, trying to get her strength back again. After a while, she tried to sit up, and made it on the second try. Her sneakers were nearby, almost dry by now – had they really tickled her that long? Yes – for more than an hour, by her watch.
This was getting out of hand, Morgan thought. First Meghan, then Brittany and Joanna – though that almost didn’t count, the twins had been tickling those two all their lives. Melissa and Nicole, Emily and Sara, now her. Probably Ashley too, last Saturday. It was a reign of terror, sure enough.
She finally made it home, still walking barefoot. Surely it was her imagination that her feet still tingled from the tickling. No Vellatrices gathering for me this afternoon, she thought – I’ll have to call Candice and beg off.
Come on, Girl Genius, she thought. We’ve got to get even, or they’ll just keep on tickling us silly. Come up with a plan.
And it had better be good.
***THE END***
Copyright 2003 by the author
Dramatis Personae (in order of appearance)
Morgan Ernst
A.K.A. Girl Genius. Age 18, medium height, slender, with curly brown hair and brown eyes. She gets straight A’s in all subjects. She hasn’t been in town for long, her family moved to Tieson City at the beginning of the previous summer. She’s extremely ticklish. Because of a horrible experience in her former town, she had a deathly fear of tickling – but her neighbors cured that!
Joanna Shaw
Joanna has lived on Tickle Street all of her 18 years, and she had always been the perfect female athlete. She’s extremely fit and very attractive, with blue eyes, dark brown hair cut in a page bob, and freckled fair skin. She excels in sports – her room is filled with trophies. She sees her ticklishness as a great weakness, and now prefers to do unto others before they can do unto her.
Brittany Righetti
Brittany is Joanna’s cousin – their mothers are sisters. She has lived all of her 18 years on Tickle Street. She has long, dark hair and brown eyes, a beautiful Italian face and features, curves in all the right places. She has a bit of an attitude, but it can quickly be destroyed if she's tickled, and her twin older sisters Vicky and Veronica always take advantage of that.
Vicky and Veronica Righetti
They’re “mirror twins” – identical, but Vicky, the leader, is a lefty (Latin “sinister”) and Veronica is right handed. They’re 20 years old, medium height, with very trim and fit figures that they maintain by martial arts. They have shoulder length wavy dark brown hair, dark brows and lashes, brown eyes. They’re extremely ticklish, but since they’re a team, they don’t get tickled much.
********************
Morgan slipped outside and pulled the door shut after her. She shivered in her jeans and sweat shirt – the spring Saturday morning was still a little chilly. But that was no big deal – she would warm up as soon as she started hiking.
She crossed the street diagonally to Joanna’s house and knocked. Joanna came to the door in a robe, barefoot, with a towel around her hair. Joanna ran two miles every morning – eight times up and down the quarter-mile length of Tickle Street – she had just finished her shower. She invited Morgan in, there was coffee left from breakfast.
“What brings you here this morning?” Joanna asked over coffee.
“I’ve been fighting the Battle of the Bulge lately,” Morgan replied. “I was gonna go for a hike in the Hundred Acre Wood. Care to come along?”
“Why me? Where’s Ashley?”
“She’s off on a road trip this weekend. Something to do with her modeling job at the mall.” Morgan frowned. “Anyway, Ashley’s been acting weird since last weekend. Remember, she didn’t show up at Candice’s house for our Vellatrices gathering, and she’s been avoiding me at school. I wonder if I’ve somehow made her mad at me.”
“It’s not just you, Morgan,” Joanna said. “She’s been like that with everybody this week.”
“Well, I haven’t been able to figure it out,” Morgan said. “I hope she gets over it soon, whatever it is. Anyway, do you want to come hiking with me?”
“Sorry,” Joanna said. “I’d like that, but I told Mom I’d do laundry this morning. But I’ll see you this afternoon at Candice’s house. Let’s jump Meghan and tickle her senseless – she deserves a dose of misery after the way she tickled me last weekend.”
“Sounds good. See you then.”
Morgan cut through Joanna’s back yard and jumped the fence, headed for the woods to the north.
A trail started a few yards in and ran east-and-west behind the subdivision. Morgan followed it to Owl Creek and turned left onto another that ran along the bank. Half a mile further on, she came to the abandoned railroad grade and crossed the old iron bridge over the creek to the other side.
The bank had an easy slope here. Morgan scrambled down to the water’s edge and headed downstream to the big flat rock that hung out over the stream. The water was down since the last time she had been here – then, the rock had been under water, part of a rapid. She sat on the rock and trailed a hand in the water – it was still icy cold.
Ashley’s behavior the past week bothered Morgan. The two were an odd couple, a brainiac and a beauty queen, but their personalities were complementary. They helped each other – Ashley’s grades had improved, and Morgan had given up her geekiest outfits in favor of some that were much more stylish. They had become best friends.
What had happened last Saturday? Ashley had been her usual self when Morgan had visited her in her dressing room after the fashion show. Ashley had been planning to come to the Vellatrices gathering, had some techniques she wanted to try out on her friend. But she hadn’t shown up, and all last week had blown Morgan off.
I miss her, Morgan thought. I’ll fix what’s wrong, whatever it is. But how can I, if she won’t talk to me?
A splash – Morgan looked up. There – a deer!
The deer – a doe – looked up from drinking and saw her. This was the first deer Morgan had seen since she had started coming here – the Hundred Acre Wood was actually about a mile square, but that’s still pretty small to support deer. Nor had the animal seen many people over the past winter – this place was within city limits, no hunting was allowed. It would have been hard to say who was most surprised.
Morgan rose quietly to her feet, backed slowly away…
…and stepped backward off the rock into the stream, shin deep in the cold water.
Shit! Morgan slipped and nearly went over, but caught herself before she fell. When she looked up again, the doe was gone.
Morgan took off her sneakers, socks and jeans. She did her best to wring the water out of the jeans and socks and put them back on. There was no help for the shoes, though. Better head back home and dry out – it was still too cool to tolerate being wet.
Morgan’s World War II infantryman grandfather could have told her all about wet shoes and blisters. Her left foot started hurting a quarter mile back toward home. She sat, pulled off the shoe and sock to investigate. Sure enough, there was a blister starting, the skin on her heel had started turning red.
She pulled off the other shoe and sock, knotted the laces together and hung them around her neck. But the creekside path was a little too rough for Morgan’s tender city-slicker feet. She took the next fork to the right – taking the path through the clearing was the long way, but the trail was better, and the clearing itself was grassy. Morgan stopped in the clearing, sat on a rock and inspected her feet. She had made a good choice – no blisters, no stone bruises, just dirt and grass stains.
Brittany came out of the woods at a dead run. She was in jeans and a long-sleeve t-shirt, barefoot, her long dark hair trailing behind her like a flag. She kept on running and disappeared into the woods on the other side of the clearing.
One of the twins – Morgan could never tell them apart – came out the woods after Brittany. The other appeared from another trail – apparently she had tried to head Brittany off. They wore cargo pants, sweat shirts and sneakers. Both were running flat out. A brindle-colored mutt – their dog Spanky – ran after them, barking with excitement.
The twins stopped in the clearing, breathing hard. Brittany was gone – she had made a clean getaway.
“Wooo!” one of them – Vicky? – said. “I thought we had her. How could she run so fast in clogs?”
“She took ‘em off,” Veronica said. “They’re back on the trail.”
“So much for our experiment. I was looking forward to it.”
“Not to worry – we’ll get her later.”
Morgan had heard about the twins from the other girls. They said that being tickled by Vicky and Veronica was a truly memorable experience – Brittany had just escaped some serious tickling. Now if she could just manage to do the same… She stood and eased backward, toward the woods, keeping them in sight.
Spanky started barking. Morgan whirled and ran for it.
Vicky and Veronica caught her just short of the woods. There was a brief struggle, and Morgan landed on her back. Each twin grabbed an ankle and stood up, leaving Morgan sprawled helpless on the grass with both feet in the air.
“Please, Vicky!” Morgan begged. “Don’t tickle me!” She tried to pull loose, but the sisters were a lot stronger than they looked.
“Check it out, sis,” Vicky said. “Dirty feet.”
“Wanna tickle ‘em clean?” Veronica asked.
“NOOOO!” Morgan yelled. “Letmego letmego letmeGO!”
“I like the way you think,” Vicky said.
“Great minds think alike. Jeez, they’re dirty! This may take a while. Let’s see…”
Veronica circled a fingernail in Morgan’s right arch, and Morgan burst into helpless ticklish laughter. Vicky drew figure-eight’s on Morgan’s left heel, and the laughter went up a notch. Then Veronica held back the toes of the right foot and scratched the exact center of the sole, along the crease. Morgan bucked violently and laughed her head off. Veronica had found THE SPOT, where Morgan’s feet were unbearably ticklish – the exact center of her soles, along the crease.
Then both twins got down to business, scratching and scrabbling, toes to heels and back again, covering both feet with unbearable tickling. Their tickling fingernails flew over Morgan’s feet, bringing forth peal after peal of laughter. They held her toes back and tickled the soft skin underneath, scratched the soles, drew circles around the balls of her feet while she laughed like mad.
Down the arches to the heels, drawing circles and other tickling shapes, then back onto the arches. Each girl scratched the ball of a foot with a single fingernail, circling round and round. Once each circle they got on the sweet spot and gave it a few extra nail flicks – Morgan’s laughter went off the scale. Then onto the sweet spots again, and Morgan laughed at the top of her lungs. She wasn’t struggling any more – all resistance had been tickled out of her.
The tickling fingers speeded up, flicking and scratching the sensitive soles. It was more than Morgan could bear. She laughed herself breathless.
They paused and inspected Morgan’s feet. “They need more work, sis,” Vicky said.
“Give ‘em a rest. Remember our experiment?”
“Did you bring it?”
“Grabbed it on the way out the door,” Veronica replied. “It’s in my leg pocket. But it can wait. Enjoy yourself.”
Morgan was weak and limp from the tickling – she laid there gasping, trying to get her breathing and heart rate normal again. The others had told her about this, some of them in great detail. But this was the first time she had experienced Vicky and Veronica in action – and it was all true!
The twins let go of Morgan’s ankles. Vicky was an upper body tickler by preference – she straddled Morgan’s hips and pinned both wrists over her head with one hand. She lifted the bottom of the sweat shirt and circled a single fingernail in Morgan’s navel. Morgan squirmed and struggled, laughing like a crazy woman. Vicky tickled Morgan’s tummy, side to side, then back to navel tickling until Morgan thought she would go crazy.
Veronica kneeled near Morgan’s pinned wrists, facing her sister. Vicky turned Morgan’s wrists loose, but Veronica pinned them again with one hand, shifting her weight to anchor them. And now Vicky had both hands free to do what she did best. She tickled up under the sweat shirt, getting on each rib, then on the ticklish spaces in between. Four times her hands roamed up and down, while Morgan’s ticklish laughter filled the air.
Veronica reached down to Morgan’s tummy and took up navel tickling. Morgan squirmed like a worm, laughing sweetly, trying desperately to escape the tickling. Vicky tickled down onto Morgan’s sides, gave her victim a few pokes for variety, then lobster-clawed the sides. Vicky’s tickling hands roamed Morgan’s midsection, onto the tummy, crossing over, then back to the sides, over and over.
Morgan wasn’t capable of coordinated movement any more, or even coherent thought. Veronica turned Morgan’s wrists loose and added her two-handed effort to the tummy tickling. Vicky went back to tickling Morgan’s sides, onto her hip bones, then the sensitive sides again. They didn’t quit until they reduced Morgan to red-faced, gasping silent laughter.
Another break. Veronica fished around in her cargo pocket and came out with a small glass jar – the sort pesto sauce comes in – and a teaspoon. The jar was full of some sort of heavy amber liquid with dark flecks floating in it.
“Time for our experiment, sis,” Veronica said. “We didn’t tickle her feet clean, maybe Spanky can do it.”
“Please… No more…” Morgan begged. Her ribs and abs ached from laughing.
“We won’t tickle you, Morgan – at least, not for a little while,” Vicky said. She dismounted, rolled Morgan onto her tummy, grabbed her wrists. “Ready when you are, sis.”
Veronica straddled Morgan’s legs facing aft. “Here goes. I love this! I really do!” She opened the jar and spooned a generous amount of cold bacon grease onto Morgan’s soles. She added dabs between Morgan’s toes, more on the heels and arches.
“Oh…ghod…” Morgan said, still more than a little breathless. “Ewww. What… are you… doing?”
Veronica whistled for the dog. He came bounding up, smelled the bacon grease and stopped, whining with anticipation.
“Go for it!” Veronica told him.
Spanky licked Morgan’s soles, and Morgan howled again with forced mirth.
“Check it out!” Veronica said. “He’s really lapping it up!”
“Does that make him a lap dog?” Vicky asked.
Veronica groaned at the bad pun. “That’s another five minutes of tickling I owe you,” she said.
“Promises, promises!”
But Morgan didn’t hear any more – she was too busy laughing. The grease hung on pretty well – the dog really had to work to get it off her feet. His tongue licked and lapped – flicking along her soles, between her toes, on her arches and heels, for a very long time indeed. Morgan laughed wildly, eyes closed, tears of laughter streaming down her cheeks as the tickling expanded to fill her universe.
Spanky finished and sat back lickling his chops. Veronica inspected Morgan’s feet, stroked a nail across the right sole, down the arch to the heel and lingered to draw tiny circles. Morgan burst into laughter again.
“How did it do?” Vicky asked.
“Not too bad. They’re mostly clean,” Veronica said, and stopped tickling. “Hey Morgan, did that tickle?”
“Yes… yes… oh ghod yes…” Morgan gasped out.
“Give her some more, sis,” Vicky said.
Veronica dabbed a little more grease on the sweet spots. Morgan laughed and laughed as Spanky licked them clean again.
Morgan laid there gasping. Her hair was messed up, with grass and leaves tangled in it. She was sweat soaked, her throat was dry, her abs felt like they had been beaten with a board. This was worse than Old Man Johnson and his tickle dungeon, back in her old home town – much worse. They were gonna tickle her to death – she just knew it!
Vicky let go of Morgan’s wrists and knee walked next to her sister. “They look pretty good to me,” she said. She reached over and tickled in Morgan’s arch, forcing another howl of ticklish laughter. “Not too greasy either.”
Morgan heard the response through her own ticklish laughter. “Spanky got it all. Wanna give him some more?”
“Nah… It’ll just give him the runs. Come on, let’s finish this.”
And now both of them were tickling her, fingernails scratching and flicking the ticklish soles. Morgan’s laughter had an edge of desperation now, she was very near the end of her endurance. They tickled faster, four hands now, heels and soles, both feet, and tickled Morgan breathless for the third time.
Vicky stood and extended a hand to her sister. “Come on, sis – our work here is done.”
“One more to go,” Veronica said, and whistled for the dog. Morgan still couldn’t move, but she figured they were moving away from the sound of Veronica’s voice. “Get Candice, and we’ve made a clean sweep.”
Morgan heard Vicky say, “But Candice loves to be tickled. We’ll have to come up with something a lot more fiendish than this to get to her.”
“Well, I have an idea…”
And that was it – they were gone, and their dog with them. Morgan rolled onto her back and laid there, trying to get her strength back again. After a while, she tried to sit up, and made it on the second try. Her sneakers were nearby, almost dry by now – had they really tickled her that long? Yes – for more than an hour, by her watch.
This was getting out of hand, Morgan thought. First Meghan, then Brittany and Joanna – though that almost didn’t count, the twins had been tickling those two all their lives. Melissa and Nicole, Emily and Sara, now her. Probably Ashley too, last Saturday. It was a reign of terror, sure enough.
She finally made it home, still walking barefoot. Surely it was her imagination that her feet still tingled from the tickling. No Vellatrices gathering for me this afternoon, she thought – I’ll have to call Candice and beg off.
Come on, Girl Genius, she thought. We’ve got to get even, or they’ll just keep on tickling us silly. Come up with a plan.
And it had better be good.
***THE END***
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