Strelnikov
4th Level Red Feather
- Joined
- May 7, 2001
- Messages
- 1,820
- Points
- 0
By Strelnikov
Copyright 2004 by the author
Dramatis Personae (in order of appearance)
Brittany Righetti
Brittany is 18, almost 19, and has lived on Tickle Street all her life. 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. She's super-ticklish, 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 two years older than Brittany, medium height, with very trim and fit figures that they maintain by martial arts. They have wavy dark brown hair worn shoulder length, dark brows and lashes, brown eyes. They’re extremely ticklish, but since they’re a team, they don’t get tickled much.
Joanna Shaw
Joanna is Brittany’s cousin – their mothers are sisters, identical twins. She has lived all of her 18 years on Tickle Street. She has always been the perfect female athlete – her room is filled with trophies. She’s extremely fit and very attractive, with blue eyes, dark brown hair cut in a page bob, and freckled fair skin. She always felt invincible due to her greatness in sports, but if she gets tickled, she loses it.
********************
Brittany woke up a little chilled, with a weight resting on her hips. She tried to move her arms, but her wrists were pinned over her head. She felt fingernails resting on her toned abs, under her pajama top. Other fingernails were just touching the soles of her bare feet.
Her eyes fluttered open. The blankets were gone. Brittany saw her sister Vicky grinning mischievously down on her from a straddle position. She didn’t see Veronica, Vicky’s twin, but knew those were her fingernails at her feet.
Like Brittany, the twins were tanned, with dark hair, dark brows and lashes, brown eyes. They were two years older, a little taller, wore their hair shoulder length as opposed to Brittany’s nearly waist-length mane. But still the family resemblance was a strong one.
“Good morning, little sis!” the twins chorused.
It was a Saturday morning, like every other for as far back as Brittany could remember. She thought sometimes that 70 years from now, they would stump into her nursing-home room on their walkers to tickle her sagging tummy and arthritic feet. Brittany didn’t bother to struggle – they had her, and she knew it.
“Nothing to say?” Vicky asked.
“Get it over with,” Brittany said with resignation.
Veronica led off, tickling Brittany’s soles two handed, and Brittany burst into ticklish laughter. Vicky joined in, tickling in a circle around her navel. Brittany arched her back and laughed her head off.
The twins were Jedi Masters of tickling, and they knew every ticklish spot on her body. Vicky tickled her tummy, side to side, watching the muscles twitch and jump. Veronica kept up the foot tickling, in her arches now. Brittany bucked and squirmed, laughing like mad, trying desperately to escape the tickling.
Veronica tickled Brittany’s heels, drawing circles and other tickling shapes, and Brittany knew from experience what was coming next. Veronica tickled back onto Brittany’s arches, just in front of the heels – the sweet spots, where her feet were off-the-scale ticklish. Brittany laughed helplessly at the top of her lungs.
Vicky didn’t need to pin Brittany’s hands now – the fiendish tickling had robbed her of all ability to resist. She switched to two handed tickling, roaming her hands up and down Brittany’s sides and ribs while Brittany howled with forced mirth. She tickled Brittany’s armpits, then down her ribs, getting on each rib and in the ticklish spaces between. Onto the ticklish sides, grabbing and lobster clawing, then onto the tummy, tickling side to side, one hand following the panty line and the other her ribcage. Brittany laughed like a maniac, tears of laughter leaking from her closed eyes.
Veronica wasn’t idle. Her tickling fingernails covered Brittany’s feet with fiendish and well-techniqued tickling. She tickled between Brittany’s toes, held them back and tickled the soft skin underneath and onto the stretched out soles. Down the arches onto the heels, flicking and scratching, then back to THE SPOT again, and Brittany’s ticklish laughter went off the scale.
Vicky dismounted, still tummy tickling, and Brittany knew that this would be a bad one, twice as long as usual. She still couldn’t move – the tickling had drained away her strength, all she could do was lay there and laugh. The mattress moved under her – Veronica had climbed up onto the bed, still foot tickling. Veronica tickled her way up Brittany’s right thigh to her tummy – Veronica tickled down the left to her feet. Streams of ticklish laughter poured out of her as they redoubled their efforts, Veronica tickling her upper body and Vicky tickling her feet. She laughed and laughed until she thought she would go mad.
Both twins put on a burst of speed, tickling skillfully and enthusiastically, and Brittany went wild. It was more than she could bear – they tickled her breathless.
Veronica dismounted. Brittany laid there, limp and tickled out, trying desperately to get her breathing and heart rate normal. “See ya at breakfast, little sis!” the twins chorused, and Brittany was alone.
Brittany showered and dressed for work – a red t-shirt and gym shorts over a red one-piece swim suit, all with LIFE GUARD printed on them in white – then had breakfast with her family. No one remarked on the tickle fest. Mom and her own twin, Aunt Karen, had been like Vicky and Veronica in their youth – Mom preferred to let the girls sort things out for themselves. Dad had given up trying to understand – this was just part of life in the Righetti family.
Brittany stepped into her sandals and picked up her backpack – it held her wallet, hairbrush, hair clips, sunglasses and a rolled-up towel. She bicycled west and stopped by her cousin Joanna’s house.
Joanna rode her bicycle out of the garage. She was Aunt Karen’s oldest daughter, and exactly Brittany’s size, right down to her shoes. She had the same dark hair – hers was cut in a page bob. She was fair skinned and freckled, with blue eyes – she took after the Irish side of her family – but the two looked enough alike to be sisters.
The two girls rode west to Johnson’s Ferry Road. They turned left and rode south to the City Park, just north of the high school. Brittany had a summer lifeguard job at the pool – Joanna coached Tee Ball, baseball on training wheels for the little kids.
“You’re awful quiet this morning,” Joanna said at last.
“Vicky and Veronica,” Brittany replied. “They really gave it to me good this morning. I thought they were gonna tickle me to death.”
That was something Joanna understood all too well – she had received her share of attention from the twins herself.
“Oh well, it’s only one day a week,” Brittany said philosophically. “And usually it’s not so bad.”
“Better you than me,” Joanna said, and the two moved on to other topics.
***
But Brittany got it again on Sunday morning, and Monday too. She mentioned it to Joanna on their lunch break, both of them sitting on the side of the pool with their feet in the water.
“They’re driving me crazy!” Brittany said. “Once a week is OK – I can stand that, have for years. But every morning – that’s too much.”
“What’re you gonna do?” Joanna asked.
“Dunno. But I gotta think of something.”
Same thing Tuesday morning. They had her pretty rattled – she got to work and discovered that she had forgotten her lunch money. Every day, one of the young park staff went out and brought back lunch for the others – fast food, pizza, takeout Chinese, things of that sort. She could slide for one day, but she hated to impose on her co-workers. The park wasn’t far from home – 10 minutes by bicycle. It was easy enough to go back for the money.
Brittany cycled home. With one hand on the side door, she glanced into the back yard, toward the pool. Her sisters were on their tummies by the pool, sunning themselves, with the tops of their bikinis undone. They didn’t have to be at their jobs at the mall until afternoon. Uh-oh! I better sneak in and out, or they’ll get me again, she thought.
One twin re-tied her top, got up and went into the house. Forget it! It wasn’t worth the risk.
But maybe… The twins were a team, so they didn’t get tickled much. Separate them, and they were as vulnerable as Brittany. Maybe it was time for a little guerilla warfare.
Brittany took her sandals off and hung them from the bicycle’s brake handles. She slipped up to the remaining twin on silent bare feet, taking care not to cast a shadow. Her sister’s eyes were closed – she was listening to a walk-man radio, oblivious to the world. Perfect!
Brittany straddled her sister’s hips and dug in to her sides, grabbing and lobster clawing. The twin yelped, bucked, and laughed at the top of her lungs.
Brittany tickled up and down her sister’s ribs, rubbing the skin against the bones, getting between them, while the other girl laughed her head off. Vicky or Veronica? Who cares! It’s payback time! She tickled back down onto the sensitive sides, then under her sister’s tummy. The older girl laughed her head off.
“BRITTANY! Leave Vicky alone!” Veronica yelled from the open bathroom window. Brittany picked up the pace, poking and tickling. She had maybe 30 seconds before Veronica could get back outside – and she used it all. The ticklish laughter went off the scale.
The back door flew open. Brittany sprang to her feet, grabbed her bicycle on the run and mounted it rolling. Veronica gave up the chase – she knew she would never catch Brittany now.
They’ll get me again tomorrow morning, Brittany thought as she cycled away. Probably a double dose too. But it was worth it!
***
They got her again Wednesday morning, as she had known they would. Mom and Dad had already left for work – the three girls had the house to themselves. Brittany didn’t say much at breakfast. Her ribs and abs were a little sore from laughing – she was thinking hard.
Veronica headed upstairs afterward to do her hair – the twins were experimenting with different styles this week. Vicky flopped down on the family room couch and zapped the TV on, looking to kill some time. Brittany put her dishes in the dishwasher and headed toward the side door to get her bicycle, but paused when she saw Vicky. Vicky wasn’t paying her any attention – she had found an old movie. Veronica was out of the picture for a while. Maybe…
Brittany jumped Vicky, scooped her ankles up in an arm lock and stood up. Vicky was sprawled on her back on the couch, feet up, with gravity working against her. She just had time for a startled yelp before Brittany went to work, tickling her bare feet with skill and enthusiasm. Vicky squirmed, tried to kick loose, then laughed helplessly at the top of her lungs.
Brittany didn’t try for anything fancy. She danced and scrabbled her long, well-manicured nails in Vicky’s sweet spots, the same as her own, covering the ticklish flesh with unbearable tickling. Vicky laughed her head off, howling with forced mirth.
Brittany tickled Vicky’s soles next, side to side. Vicky’s toes twitched and curled as wild laughter poured forth. She tickled down the arches, right-left-and-repeat, down to the heels. She lingered there, drawing circles and other random tickling shapes and tickling like crazy.
Almost five minutes – Vicky was laughing harder now, her wild ticklish laughter filling the room. Then Brittany made a Peace sign and scratched in Vicky’s arches, just ahead of the heels – Vicky went wild, squirming, laughing at the top of her lungs, trying desperately to pull her feet away. But Brittany’s grip was too tight – all Vicky could do was lay there and laugh as Brittany’s tickling fingers flicked and scratched.
Running footsteps above, and coming down the stairs – Veronica had finally heard what was going on, and was coming to the rescue. Brittany stopped foot tickling and sprinted for the side door, leaving Vicky gasping on the couch. No time to get her sandals, and they would only slow down her running anyway. She snatched up her backpack and hit the door running, grabbed her bike on the run, mounted and cycled away.
“We’ll get you for this, Brittany!” Veronica yelled behind her. And they would – but again, it was worth it.
***
Brittany had Thursday off, and a good thing too – her sisters outdid themselves, tickled her breathless twice. She was suitably submissive at breakfast, but inside she was boiling. I won’t – I can’t – let them get away with it, she thought. But by early afternoon, no suitable course of action had presented itself – she was stumped.
Spanky was scratching at the inside of the door and whining, with his back teeth floating. She decided to think it over while walking the dog. Her sandals were upstairs in her room…
Well, one of them was, anyway. After a search, she discovered the other – it was under her bed, had somehow migrated to the exact center. She wormed her way in past the dust bunnies and other detritus, retrieved it, worked her way back out. Then a flash of inspiration, like a big cartoon light bulb over her head. That’s it!
The mall department store where the twins worked relaxed its employee dress code in summer. The twins had bought new sandals to work in a month ago – by now, the sandals were well broken in, comfy, just the thing to wear standing behind a register on a hard tile floor.
The twins were already dressed for work in short summer dresses, but like Brittany they hadn’t bothered with shoes. Brittany let the dog out, then went back upstairs to prepare the ambush. She slipped into their room, took the two left sandals and slid one under each bed, right in the middle. The bedroom windows looked out over the roof of the screened-in back porch. She raised the twins’ window, closed the door on her way out, went to her own room, closed the door and opened her own window. She knotted her sneaker strings together and hung them around her neck. Then she settled in to wait.
Footsteps coming up the stairs – Brittany went out the window and along the roof, crouched beside the other open window. The twins’ door opened, and Brittany peeked cautiously in the window.
Damn! Vicky again, on her tummy, under the bed as far as her waist – Brittany had hoped to get Veronica this time. Oh well, I’ll take what I can get, she thought. She slipped silently inside, quietly closed and locked the door, padded over to Vicky’s bed.
Vicky saw the bare feet, and as Brittany had hoped, came to a false conclusion. “That you, sis?” she asked. “I told you I’d get your shoes too–”
Brittany sat on the edge of the bed, directly above her sister. Her weight made it go down, trapping Vicky under the bed.
“Hey! Get off!” Vicky said. “That’s not funny!”
“Oh, I think you’ll do some laughing anyway,” Brittany said drily. She reached down and flipped up the back of Vicky’s dress. “Tickle tickle, Vicky!”
“Oh NOOOO!” Vicky yelled. “HAHAHA-hehe-HAHAHA-HAHAHA!” Vicky laughed as Brittany tickled her butt.
Vicky kicked and squirmed while Brittany tickled, laughing her head off. Brittany tickled the backs and insides of her sister’s thighs, bringing forth a stream of helpless ticklish laughter. She tickled the backs of both knees – Vicky laughed like a madwoman, kicking, bouncing, trying desperately to free herself from under the bed. Brittany grabbed one of the kicking feet and tickled the sweet spot, fingernails flying, and Vicky lost it, laughing at the top of her lungs.
“Vicky! VICKY!” The doorknob rattled. “Brittany, you’re gonna get it!” Veronica yelled.
Brittany heard running footsteps on the stairs. Like all bedroom doors, this one could be unlocked from outside by poking a long thin object into the hole in the middle of the knob. It would take Veronica five seconds to get to the kitchen, maybe 20 to find the knitting needle kept in the junk drawer for just that purpose, another five seconds to get back. She speeded up, tickling the sweet spot mercilessly, savoring Vicky’s helpless laughter.
Running feet again, and another rattle. Brittany jumped up, went out the window and shinnied down the drain pipe. She ran for the back fence and the woods to the north, the tied-together sneakers bouncing against her as she ran. She could put them on in the woods, then circle around to Joanna’s house and hide out until the twins left for work.
“WE’LL GET YOU FOR THIS!” the twins yelled from the open window behind her. She flipped them off, jumped the fence and was gone.
Brittany went to the mall with Joanna, just to hang out for a while. They visited the twins at their job. Brittany made tickling motions at Vicky, and was gratified to see Vicky flinch. Good! She was making progress!
But Brittany knew the guerilla war was far from over. She made a few preparations when she got home, stuffed a few items in the pockets of her cargo shorts, just in case. It was still a good idea to be prepared.
***
Friday was the worst yet – Vicky and Veronica kept Brittany laughing helplessly, pretty much non-stop, for over an hour. They left her breathless and sweaty, red faced, teary eyed, tickled out. Her abs hurt from laughing – they felt like she had taken a beating.
But Brittany had a plan. She slipped on a t-shirt and her cargo shorts, bided her time while Veronica showered. Vicky’s turn in the shower – she waited for Vicky to close the bathroom door behind her, and padded silently down the hall to the bathroom.
Like all such, the bathroom door opened inward, while the linen closet door directly opposite across the hall opened outward. Brittany had cut a piece of rope about as long as the hallway was wide, and tied a loop and slip knot in each end. She opened the closet door, put the loops over the closet and bathroom door knobs and leaned on the closet door until the latch clicked. The rope was as tight as a bow string. Vicky didn’t know it yet, but she was stuck in the bathroom until somebody outside cut the rope.
Brittany slipped into the twins’ room. This was the riskiest part of the operation, but she knew that the twins were creatures of habit. Veronica was in her robe, toweling her hair, effectively blindfolded, just like Brittany thought she would be.
Brittany reached around Veronica’s shoulders from behind and grabbed the robe’s lapels. She pulled outward, back and down. The robe bunched up around Veronica’s elbows, pinning her arms to her sides.
Still holding on, Brittany ran Veronica forward onto her bed. She reached down, grabbed her sister’s ankles, swung them onto the bed and straddled her thighs. She tied the struggling twin’s hands behind her back with a pair of old nylons from her cargo pocket, tied them to the robe tie to anchor them. She shifted, sat on Veronica’s legs and tied her ankles together with more nylons, then got off and completed the hogtie.
“That’s it, Brittany!” Veronica said, struggling against the bonds. “We’re gonna tickle you to death! VICKIEEE! HELP!”
“She can’t hear you with the shower going,” Brittany said. “And she won’t get out of the bathroom until somebody lets her out – I’ve got the door tied shut. It’s just you and me.”
Veronica was bare from the waist up, the robe still bunched around her elbows. Brittany rolled Veronica on her side.
“Should I tickle your boobs?” she asked, and tickled her sister’s breasts. Veronica giggled, cursed and squirmed, then burst into ticklish laughter. “Or your ribs and sides?” She gave them a few pokes. Veronica squealed, then laughed like mad, struggling furiously, while Brittany grabbed and lobster clawed her way up and down her ribs and sides. “Maybe your tummy…” Veronica laughed her head off as Brittany tickled her flat abs.
Brittany rolled Veronica onto her tummy and flipped up the back of her robe. “I could tickle your butt,” she said, and did – Veronica’s ticklish laughter filled the room. “Thighs and knees maybe.” She tickled the backs and insides of Veronica’s thighs and onto the knees, and Veronica went wild, laughing, thrashing, squirming to escape the tickling.
“No – none of those things,” Brittany said. Foot tickling was the type she liked best, and she knew from the inside that “foot notes” tickle like mischief. She took a ball point pen out of the cargo pocket and clicked it open. “This is better.”
“NOOOOO!” Veronica wailed – she knew what was coming.
Brittany grabbed a foot, held the toes back and wrote I will not tickle Brittany any more in tiny letters on the soft skin underneath, dotting the i’s with little circles and other tickling flourishes. Veronica bucked violently and laughed madly, trying desperately to pull her foot away.
Brittany wrote a second line under the first, then a third. Each tickley line forced another stream of helpless ticklish laughter. This works better with two ticklers, Brittany thought. While one was writing, the other could tickle the other foot with her nails – double the fun. She made the best of it though, writing line after ticklish line while Veronica laughed, and laughed, and laughed again.
Vicky had been a target of opportunity all three times – Brittany hadn’t been able to do any really serious tickling. She could afford to take her time with Veronica, though, and took full advantage. Veronica stopped struggling after about 20 lines, and just laid there laughing. The laughter went up a notch when Brittany got to the sweet spot. She lingered there, underlining and darkening the letters, turning the circle-dots on the i’s into tiny smiley faces, and Veronica’s laughter went off the scale. She moved on, writing on the ticklish heel, then paused.
“Doing OK, sis?” Brittany asked.
“Oh ghod that tickles!”
“It’s supposed to,” Brittany said, and grabbed the other foot. “Second verse, same as the first!”
Veronica didn’t beg this time – she had wisely decided to save her breath. Brittany’s tickling pen tip flicked and scratched the ticklish foot, forcing stream after stream of wild helpless laughter. She took her time and did it right. It lasted for what seemed like a very long time indeed, and reduced Veronica to a laughing, quivering wreck.
There! No more space to write. Veronica was sweaty, red faced, short of breath – time to finish her off. Brittany dug in with her nails, covering both feet with tiny nail flicks, and the well-techniqued tickling drove Veronica wild. Brittany finished in the sweet spots, tickling fingernails flicking and scrabbling, and Veronica laughed at the top of her lungs. Brittany speeded up, tickling as fast as she could – Veronica lost it and laughed herself breathless.
Brittany found Vicky’s balisong, cut Veronica’s hands free, closed the knife and dropped it on the bed. “Bye, sis,” she said. “See you later.”
She had gotten them both. Maybe that would do it. She hoped so anyway – this was getting old.
***
Brittany’s eyes popped open at the regular time on Saturday morning. The blankets still covered her. She sat up and looked around – she was alone in her room, with the door closed. Halleluia! It had cost her a lot – a lot – of extra tickling, but it had worked! The twins, after all those years, had finally decided to leave her alone!
She opened her door cautiously – the hallway was empty. She padded down the hall – their door was open, no sign of them. She really had gotten away with it!
No point in taking a shower – she was due at work at noon. Better to wash the chlorine out of her hair when she got home. She brushed her teeth and washed her face – good enough.
They ambushed her just as she re-entered her room, from both sides of the door. She wound up on her bed, on her tummy, hogtied with old nylons.
“Thought you were gonna get away with it, didn’t you?” Vicky asked as the twins kneeled on either side of Brittany’s bound feet.
“Yah, hoped I would,” Brittany answered in a disgusted tone. “I guess not, huh?”
“Nope!” they chorused. She heard the click of a ball point pen. Shit! There were two of them – they could do it right.
Veronica grabbed Brittany’s right foot, Vicky the left, and both held the toes back. Veronica carefully wrote across the soft skin under her toes. As she did, Vicky tickled the exact same spot on the left foot. Brittany arched her back and laughed at the top of her lungs.
Veronica and Vicky passed the pen back and forth, one writing, the other tickling with her nails. Brittany howled with forced mirth while they drew the process out. They wrote line after tickley line. It tickled maddeningly – the brief pause as the pen changed hands let her catch her breath, but kept her from zoning out. They wrote and tickled until she thought she would go crazy – then wrote some more.
The twins knew where Brittany’s sweet spots were, from years of experience. They carefully wrote each letter in fancy script, turned the circle-dots on the i’s into sunflowers, each sunflower into a smiley face. Brittany laughed her head off. She wasn’t struggling any more – all resistance had been tickled out of her. All she could do was lay there and laugh – helpless, unable to form a coherent thought, lost in ticklish delirium.
They finished writing on her heels, then went back and drew a daisy on the tip of each toe. They drew stems and leaves down her toes, then spread the toes and drew the roots on the soft skin in between. Brittany laughed like a lunatic, eyes closed, tears running down her face. Then four handed tickling, flying fingernails on sensitive soles, covering Brittany’s feet from toes to heels with unbearable tickling. That was the end – they tickled her into gasping, red faced silent laughter.
Brittany laid there gasping, straining for air. Vicky cut her loose and rolled her onto her back. She tried to sit up and winced – her ribs and abs were pretty sore from laughing. They helped her up, sat her on the side of the bed and sat on either side of her.
“Wooo! You got me good that time!” Brittany said. “What now?”
“Breakfast,” the twins chorused.
Brittany lifted a foot, winced again, and got the ankle up over the opposite knee. She inspected the bare, ink covered sole…
The same line, repeated many times: We will not tickle Brittany any LESS.
It hurt to laugh, but Brittany couldn’t help it. Vicky and Veronica steadied her from both sides, grinning ear to ear. Just as well, otherwise she might have fallen off the bed, she was that shaky.
Brittany’s laughter wound down to giggles. “Fair enough,” she said. “Truce?”
“Truce,” the twins chorused.
Brittany took her sisters’ hands in her own and stood up. “OK,” she said. “Now what’s for breakfast?”
***THE END***
Copyright 2004 by the author
Dramatis Personae (in order of appearance)
Brittany Righetti
Brittany is 18, almost 19, and has lived on Tickle Street all her life. 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. She's super-ticklish, 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 two years older than Brittany, medium height, with very trim and fit figures that they maintain by martial arts. They have wavy dark brown hair worn shoulder length, dark brows and lashes, brown eyes. They’re extremely ticklish, but since they’re a team, they don’t get tickled much.
Joanna Shaw
Joanna is Brittany’s cousin – their mothers are sisters, identical twins. She has lived all of her 18 years on Tickle Street. She has always been the perfect female athlete – her room is filled with trophies. She’s extremely fit and very attractive, with blue eyes, dark brown hair cut in a page bob, and freckled fair skin. She always felt invincible due to her greatness in sports, but if she gets tickled, she loses it.
********************
Brittany woke up a little chilled, with a weight resting on her hips. She tried to move her arms, but her wrists were pinned over her head. She felt fingernails resting on her toned abs, under her pajama top. Other fingernails were just touching the soles of her bare feet.
Her eyes fluttered open. The blankets were gone. Brittany saw her sister Vicky grinning mischievously down on her from a straddle position. She didn’t see Veronica, Vicky’s twin, but knew those were her fingernails at her feet.
Like Brittany, the twins were tanned, with dark hair, dark brows and lashes, brown eyes. They were two years older, a little taller, wore their hair shoulder length as opposed to Brittany’s nearly waist-length mane. But still the family resemblance was a strong one.
“Good morning, little sis!” the twins chorused.
It was a Saturday morning, like every other for as far back as Brittany could remember. She thought sometimes that 70 years from now, they would stump into her nursing-home room on their walkers to tickle her sagging tummy and arthritic feet. Brittany didn’t bother to struggle – they had her, and she knew it.
“Nothing to say?” Vicky asked.
“Get it over with,” Brittany said with resignation.
Veronica led off, tickling Brittany’s soles two handed, and Brittany burst into ticklish laughter. Vicky joined in, tickling in a circle around her navel. Brittany arched her back and laughed her head off.
The twins were Jedi Masters of tickling, and they knew every ticklish spot on her body. Vicky tickled her tummy, side to side, watching the muscles twitch and jump. Veronica kept up the foot tickling, in her arches now. Brittany bucked and squirmed, laughing like mad, trying desperately to escape the tickling.
Veronica tickled Brittany’s heels, drawing circles and other tickling shapes, and Brittany knew from experience what was coming next. Veronica tickled back onto Brittany’s arches, just in front of the heels – the sweet spots, where her feet were off-the-scale ticklish. Brittany laughed helplessly at the top of her lungs.
Vicky didn’t need to pin Brittany’s hands now – the fiendish tickling had robbed her of all ability to resist. She switched to two handed tickling, roaming her hands up and down Brittany’s sides and ribs while Brittany howled with forced mirth. She tickled Brittany’s armpits, then down her ribs, getting on each rib and in the ticklish spaces between. Onto the ticklish sides, grabbing and lobster clawing, then onto the tummy, tickling side to side, one hand following the panty line and the other her ribcage. Brittany laughed like a maniac, tears of laughter leaking from her closed eyes.
Veronica wasn’t idle. Her tickling fingernails covered Brittany’s feet with fiendish and well-techniqued tickling. She tickled between Brittany’s toes, held them back and tickled the soft skin underneath and onto the stretched out soles. Down the arches onto the heels, flicking and scratching, then back to THE SPOT again, and Brittany’s ticklish laughter went off the scale.
Vicky dismounted, still tummy tickling, and Brittany knew that this would be a bad one, twice as long as usual. She still couldn’t move – the tickling had drained away her strength, all she could do was lay there and laugh. The mattress moved under her – Veronica had climbed up onto the bed, still foot tickling. Veronica tickled her way up Brittany’s right thigh to her tummy – Veronica tickled down the left to her feet. Streams of ticklish laughter poured out of her as they redoubled their efforts, Veronica tickling her upper body and Vicky tickling her feet. She laughed and laughed until she thought she would go mad.
Both twins put on a burst of speed, tickling skillfully and enthusiastically, and Brittany went wild. It was more than she could bear – they tickled her breathless.
Veronica dismounted. Brittany laid there, limp and tickled out, trying desperately to get her breathing and heart rate normal. “See ya at breakfast, little sis!” the twins chorused, and Brittany was alone.
Brittany showered and dressed for work – a red t-shirt and gym shorts over a red one-piece swim suit, all with LIFE GUARD printed on them in white – then had breakfast with her family. No one remarked on the tickle fest. Mom and her own twin, Aunt Karen, had been like Vicky and Veronica in their youth – Mom preferred to let the girls sort things out for themselves. Dad had given up trying to understand – this was just part of life in the Righetti family.
Brittany stepped into her sandals and picked up her backpack – it held her wallet, hairbrush, hair clips, sunglasses and a rolled-up towel. She bicycled west and stopped by her cousin Joanna’s house.
Joanna rode her bicycle out of the garage. She was Aunt Karen’s oldest daughter, and exactly Brittany’s size, right down to her shoes. She had the same dark hair – hers was cut in a page bob. She was fair skinned and freckled, with blue eyes – she took after the Irish side of her family – but the two looked enough alike to be sisters.
The two girls rode west to Johnson’s Ferry Road. They turned left and rode south to the City Park, just north of the high school. Brittany had a summer lifeguard job at the pool – Joanna coached Tee Ball, baseball on training wheels for the little kids.
“You’re awful quiet this morning,” Joanna said at last.
“Vicky and Veronica,” Brittany replied. “They really gave it to me good this morning. I thought they were gonna tickle me to death.”
That was something Joanna understood all too well – she had received her share of attention from the twins herself.
“Oh well, it’s only one day a week,” Brittany said philosophically. “And usually it’s not so bad.”
“Better you than me,” Joanna said, and the two moved on to other topics.
***
But Brittany got it again on Sunday morning, and Monday too. She mentioned it to Joanna on their lunch break, both of them sitting on the side of the pool with their feet in the water.
“They’re driving me crazy!” Brittany said. “Once a week is OK – I can stand that, have for years. But every morning – that’s too much.”
“What’re you gonna do?” Joanna asked.
“Dunno. But I gotta think of something.”
Same thing Tuesday morning. They had her pretty rattled – she got to work and discovered that she had forgotten her lunch money. Every day, one of the young park staff went out and brought back lunch for the others – fast food, pizza, takeout Chinese, things of that sort. She could slide for one day, but she hated to impose on her co-workers. The park wasn’t far from home – 10 minutes by bicycle. It was easy enough to go back for the money.
Brittany cycled home. With one hand on the side door, she glanced into the back yard, toward the pool. Her sisters were on their tummies by the pool, sunning themselves, with the tops of their bikinis undone. They didn’t have to be at their jobs at the mall until afternoon. Uh-oh! I better sneak in and out, or they’ll get me again, she thought.
One twin re-tied her top, got up and went into the house. Forget it! It wasn’t worth the risk.
But maybe… The twins were a team, so they didn’t get tickled much. Separate them, and they were as vulnerable as Brittany. Maybe it was time for a little guerilla warfare.
Brittany took her sandals off and hung them from the bicycle’s brake handles. She slipped up to the remaining twin on silent bare feet, taking care not to cast a shadow. Her sister’s eyes were closed – she was listening to a walk-man radio, oblivious to the world. Perfect!
Brittany straddled her sister’s hips and dug in to her sides, grabbing and lobster clawing. The twin yelped, bucked, and laughed at the top of her lungs.
Brittany tickled up and down her sister’s ribs, rubbing the skin against the bones, getting between them, while the other girl laughed her head off. Vicky or Veronica? Who cares! It’s payback time! She tickled back down onto the sensitive sides, then under her sister’s tummy. The older girl laughed her head off.
“BRITTANY! Leave Vicky alone!” Veronica yelled from the open bathroom window. Brittany picked up the pace, poking and tickling. She had maybe 30 seconds before Veronica could get back outside – and she used it all. The ticklish laughter went off the scale.
The back door flew open. Brittany sprang to her feet, grabbed her bicycle on the run and mounted it rolling. Veronica gave up the chase – she knew she would never catch Brittany now.
They’ll get me again tomorrow morning, Brittany thought as she cycled away. Probably a double dose too. But it was worth it!
***
They got her again Wednesday morning, as she had known they would. Mom and Dad had already left for work – the three girls had the house to themselves. Brittany didn’t say much at breakfast. Her ribs and abs were a little sore from laughing – she was thinking hard.
Veronica headed upstairs afterward to do her hair – the twins were experimenting with different styles this week. Vicky flopped down on the family room couch and zapped the TV on, looking to kill some time. Brittany put her dishes in the dishwasher and headed toward the side door to get her bicycle, but paused when she saw Vicky. Vicky wasn’t paying her any attention – she had found an old movie. Veronica was out of the picture for a while. Maybe…
Brittany jumped Vicky, scooped her ankles up in an arm lock and stood up. Vicky was sprawled on her back on the couch, feet up, with gravity working against her. She just had time for a startled yelp before Brittany went to work, tickling her bare feet with skill and enthusiasm. Vicky squirmed, tried to kick loose, then laughed helplessly at the top of her lungs.
Brittany didn’t try for anything fancy. She danced and scrabbled her long, well-manicured nails in Vicky’s sweet spots, the same as her own, covering the ticklish flesh with unbearable tickling. Vicky laughed her head off, howling with forced mirth.
Brittany tickled Vicky’s soles next, side to side. Vicky’s toes twitched and curled as wild laughter poured forth. She tickled down the arches, right-left-and-repeat, down to the heels. She lingered there, drawing circles and other random tickling shapes and tickling like crazy.
Almost five minutes – Vicky was laughing harder now, her wild ticklish laughter filling the room. Then Brittany made a Peace sign and scratched in Vicky’s arches, just ahead of the heels – Vicky went wild, squirming, laughing at the top of her lungs, trying desperately to pull her feet away. But Brittany’s grip was too tight – all Vicky could do was lay there and laugh as Brittany’s tickling fingers flicked and scratched.
Running footsteps above, and coming down the stairs – Veronica had finally heard what was going on, and was coming to the rescue. Brittany stopped foot tickling and sprinted for the side door, leaving Vicky gasping on the couch. No time to get her sandals, and they would only slow down her running anyway. She snatched up her backpack and hit the door running, grabbed her bike on the run, mounted and cycled away.
“We’ll get you for this, Brittany!” Veronica yelled behind her. And they would – but again, it was worth it.
***
Brittany had Thursday off, and a good thing too – her sisters outdid themselves, tickled her breathless twice. She was suitably submissive at breakfast, but inside she was boiling. I won’t – I can’t – let them get away with it, she thought. But by early afternoon, no suitable course of action had presented itself – she was stumped.
Spanky was scratching at the inside of the door and whining, with his back teeth floating. She decided to think it over while walking the dog. Her sandals were upstairs in her room…
Well, one of them was, anyway. After a search, she discovered the other – it was under her bed, had somehow migrated to the exact center. She wormed her way in past the dust bunnies and other detritus, retrieved it, worked her way back out. Then a flash of inspiration, like a big cartoon light bulb over her head. That’s it!
The mall department store where the twins worked relaxed its employee dress code in summer. The twins had bought new sandals to work in a month ago – by now, the sandals were well broken in, comfy, just the thing to wear standing behind a register on a hard tile floor.
The twins were already dressed for work in short summer dresses, but like Brittany they hadn’t bothered with shoes. Brittany let the dog out, then went back upstairs to prepare the ambush. She slipped into their room, took the two left sandals and slid one under each bed, right in the middle. The bedroom windows looked out over the roof of the screened-in back porch. She raised the twins’ window, closed the door on her way out, went to her own room, closed the door and opened her own window. She knotted her sneaker strings together and hung them around her neck. Then she settled in to wait.
Footsteps coming up the stairs – Brittany went out the window and along the roof, crouched beside the other open window. The twins’ door opened, and Brittany peeked cautiously in the window.
Damn! Vicky again, on her tummy, under the bed as far as her waist – Brittany had hoped to get Veronica this time. Oh well, I’ll take what I can get, she thought. She slipped silently inside, quietly closed and locked the door, padded over to Vicky’s bed.
Vicky saw the bare feet, and as Brittany had hoped, came to a false conclusion. “That you, sis?” she asked. “I told you I’d get your shoes too–”
Brittany sat on the edge of the bed, directly above her sister. Her weight made it go down, trapping Vicky under the bed.
“Hey! Get off!” Vicky said. “That’s not funny!”
“Oh, I think you’ll do some laughing anyway,” Brittany said drily. She reached down and flipped up the back of Vicky’s dress. “Tickle tickle, Vicky!”
“Oh NOOOO!” Vicky yelled. “HAHAHA-hehe-HAHAHA-HAHAHA!” Vicky laughed as Brittany tickled her butt.
Vicky kicked and squirmed while Brittany tickled, laughing her head off. Brittany tickled the backs and insides of her sister’s thighs, bringing forth a stream of helpless ticklish laughter. She tickled the backs of both knees – Vicky laughed like a madwoman, kicking, bouncing, trying desperately to free herself from under the bed. Brittany grabbed one of the kicking feet and tickled the sweet spot, fingernails flying, and Vicky lost it, laughing at the top of her lungs.
“Vicky! VICKY!” The doorknob rattled. “Brittany, you’re gonna get it!” Veronica yelled.
Brittany heard running footsteps on the stairs. Like all bedroom doors, this one could be unlocked from outside by poking a long thin object into the hole in the middle of the knob. It would take Veronica five seconds to get to the kitchen, maybe 20 to find the knitting needle kept in the junk drawer for just that purpose, another five seconds to get back. She speeded up, tickling the sweet spot mercilessly, savoring Vicky’s helpless laughter.
Running feet again, and another rattle. Brittany jumped up, went out the window and shinnied down the drain pipe. She ran for the back fence and the woods to the north, the tied-together sneakers bouncing against her as she ran. She could put them on in the woods, then circle around to Joanna’s house and hide out until the twins left for work.
“WE’LL GET YOU FOR THIS!” the twins yelled from the open window behind her. She flipped them off, jumped the fence and was gone.
Brittany went to the mall with Joanna, just to hang out for a while. They visited the twins at their job. Brittany made tickling motions at Vicky, and was gratified to see Vicky flinch. Good! She was making progress!
But Brittany knew the guerilla war was far from over. She made a few preparations when she got home, stuffed a few items in the pockets of her cargo shorts, just in case. It was still a good idea to be prepared.
***
Friday was the worst yet – Vicky and Veronica kept Brittany laughing helplessly, pretty much non-stop, for over an hour. They left her breathless and sweaty, red faced, teary eyed, tickled out. Her abs hurt from laughing – they felt like she had taken a beating.
But Brittany had a plan. She slipped on a t-shirt and her cargo shorts, bided her time while Veronica showered. Vicky’s turn in the shower – she waited for Vicky to close the bathroom door behind her, and padded silently down the hall to the bathroom.
Like all such, the bathroom door opened inward, while the linen closet door directly opposite across the hall opened outward. Brittany had cut a piece of rope about as long as the hallway was wide, and tied a loop and slip knot in each end. She opened the closet door, put the loops over the closet and bathroom door knobs and leaned on the closet door until the latch clicked. The rope was as tight as a bow string. Vicky didn’t know it yet, but she was stuck in the bathroom until somebody outside cut the rope.
Brittany slipped into the twins’ room. This was the riskiest part of the operation, but she knew that the twins were creatures of habit. Veronica was in her robe, toweling her hair, effectively blindfolded, just like Brittany thought she would be.
Brittany reached around Veronica’s shoulders from behind and grabbed the robe’s lapels. She pulled outward, back and down. The robe bunched up around Veronica’s elbows, pinning her arms to her sides.
Still holding on, Brittany ran Veronica forward onto her bed. She reached down, grabbed her sister’s ankles, swung them onto the bed and straddled her thighs. She tied the struggling twin’s hands behind her back with a pair of old nylons from her cargo pocket, tied them to the robe tie to anchor them. She shifted, sat on Veronica’s legs and tied her ankles together with more nylons, then got off and completed the hogtie.
“That’s it, Brittany!” Veronica said, struggling against the bonds. “We’re gonna tickle you to death! VICKIEEE! HELP!”
“She can’t hear you with the shower going,” Brittany said. “And she won’t get out of the bathroom until somebody lets her out – I’ve got the door tied shut. It’s just you and me.”
Veronica was bare from the waist up, the robe still bunched around her elbows. Brittany rolled Veronica on her side.
“Should I tickle your boobs?” she asked, and tickled her sister’s breasts. Veronica giggled, cursed and squirmed, then burst into ticklish laughter. “Or your ribs and sides?” She gave them a few pokes. Veronica squealed, then laughed like mad, struggling furiously, while Brittany grabbed and lobster clawed her way up and down her ribs and sides. “Maybe your tummy…” Veronica laughed her head off as Brittany tickled her flat abs.
Brittany rolled Veronica onto her tummy and flipped up the back of her robe. “I could tickle your butt,” she said, and did – Veronica’s ticklish laughter filled the room. “Thighs and knees maybe.” She tickled the backs and insides of Veronica’s thighs and onto the knees, and Veronica went wild, laughing, thrashing, squirming to escape the tickling.
“No – none of those things,” Brittany said. Foot tickling was the type she liked best, and she knew from the inside that “foot notes” tickle like mischief. She took a ball point pen out of the cargo pocket and clicked it open. “This is better.”
“NOOOOO!” Veronica wailed – she knew what was coming.
Brittany grabbed a foot, held the toes back and wrote I will not tickle Brittany any more in tiny letters on the soft skin underneath, dotting the i’s with little circles and other tickling flourishes. Veronica bucked violently and laughed madly, trying desperately to pull her foot away.
Brittany wrote a second line under the first, then a third. Each tickley line forced another stream of helpless ticklish laughter. This works better with two ticklers, Brittany thought. While one was writing, the other could tickle the other foot with her nails – double the fun. She made the best of it though, writing line after ticklish line while Veronica laughed, and laughed, and laughed again.
Vicky had been a target of opportunity all three times – Brittany hadn’t been able to do any really serious tickling. She could afford to take her time with Veronica, though, and took full advantage. Veronica stopped struggling after about 20 lines, and just laid there laughing. The laughter went up a notch when Brittany got to the sweet spot. She lingered there, underlining and darkening the letters, turning the circle-dots on the i’s into tiny smiley faces, and Veronica’s laughter went off the scale. She moved on, writing on the ticklish heel, then paused.
“Doing OK, sis?” Brittany asked.
“Oh ghod that tickles!”
“It’s supposed to,” Brittany said, and grabbed the other foot. “Second verse, same as the first!”
Veronica didn’t beg this time – she had wisely decided to save her breath. Brittany’s tickling pen tip flicked and scratched the ticklish foot, forcing stream after stream of wild helpless laughter. She took her time and did it right. It lasted for what seemed like a very long time indeed, and reduced Veronica to a laughing, quivering wreck.
There! No more space to write. Veronica was sweaty, red faced, short of breath – time to finish her off. Brittany dug in with her nails, covering both feet with tiny nail flicks, and the well-techniqued tickling drove Veronica wild. Brittany finished in the sweet spots, tickling fingernails flicking and scrabbling, and Veronica laughed at the top of her lungs. Brittany speeded up, tickling as fast as she could – Veronica lost it and laughed herself breathless.
Brittany found Vicky’s balisong, cut Veronica’s hands free, closed the knife and dropped it on the bed. “Bye, sis,” she said. “See you later.”
She had gotten them both. Maybe that would do it. She hoped so anyway – this was getting old.
***
Brittany’s eyes popped open at the regular time on Saturday morning. The blankets still covered her. She sat up and looked around – she was alone in her room, with the door closed. Halleluia! It had cost her a lot – a lot – of extra tickling, but it had worked! The twins, after all those years, had finally decided to leave her alone!
She opened her door cautiously – the hallway was empty. She padded down the hall – their door was open, no sign of them. She really had gotten away with it!
No point in taking a shower – she was due at work at noon. Better to wash the chlorine out of her hair when she got home. She brushed her teeth and washed her face – good enough.
They ambushed her just as she re-entered her room, from both sides of the door. She wound up on her bed, on her tummy, hogtied with old nylons.
“Thought you were gonna get away with it, didn’t you?” Vicky asked as the twins kneeled on either side of Brittany’s bound feet.
“Yah, hoped I would,” Brittany answered in a disgusted tone. “I guess not, huh?”
“Nope!” they chorused. She heard the click of a ball point pen. Shit! There were two of them – they could do it right.
Veronica grabbed Brittany’s right foot, Vicky the left, and both held the toes back. Veronica carefully wrote across the soft skin under her toes. As she did, Vicky tickled the exact same spot on the left foot. Brittany arched her back and laughed at the top of her lungs.
Veronica and Vicky passed the pen back and forth, one writing, the other tickling with her nails. Brittany howled with forced mirth while they drew the process out. They wrote line after tickley line. It tickled maddeningly – the brief pause as the pen changed hands let her catch her breath, but kept her from zoning out. They wrote and tickled until she thought she would go crazy – then wrote some more.
The twins knew where Brittany’s sweet spots were, from years of experience. They carefully wrote each letter in fancy script, turned the circle-dots on the i’s into sunflowers, each sunflower into a smiley face. Brittany laughed her head off. She wasn’t struggling any more – all resistance had been tickled out of her. All she could do was lay there and laugh – helpless, unable to form a coherent thought, lost in ticklish delirium.
They finished writing on her heels, then went back and drew a daisy on the tip of each toe. They drew stems and leaves down her toes, then spread the toes and drew the roots on the soft skin in between. Brittany laughed like a lunatic, eyes closed, tears running down her face. Then four handed tickling, flying fingernails on sensitive soles, covering Brittany’s feet from toes to heels with unbearable tickling. That was the end – they tickled her into gasping, red faced silent laughter.
Brittany laid there gasping, straining for air. Vicky cut her loose and rolled her onto her back. She tried to sit up and winced – her ribs and abs were pretty sore from laughing. They helped her up, sat her on the side of the bed and sat on either side of her.
“Wooo! You got me good that time!” Brittany said. “What now?”
“Breakfast,” the twins chorused.
Brittany lifted a foot, winced again, and got the ankle up over the opposite knee. She inspected the bare, ink covered sole…
The same line, repeated many times: We will not tickle Brittany any LESS.
It hurt to laugh, but Brittany couldn’t help it. Vicky and Veronica steadied her from both sides, grinning ear to ear. Just as well, otherwise she might have fallen off the bed, she was that shaky.
Brittany’s laughter wound down to giggles. “Fair enough,” she said. “Truce?”
“Truce,” the twins chorused.
Brittany took her sisters’ hands in her own and stood up. “OK,” she said. “Now what’s for breakfast?”
***THE END***
Last edited:
