DallasFootTickler
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Okay here goes... my first attempt at some tickle fiction. I'm basing this series on the movie. "The Crow" (the original with Brandon Lee mind you, not those crappy sequels!) I figured, hmmm...need for revenge, black bird with good supply of feathers...I can work something out of this.
Plus I'm a huge fan of the movie anyway and with Halloween around the corner, it's a good time of year for such a tale. I'm going to keep the names used in the film only this time the gang members will be female. This first part is going to be kinda long since I need to set up the plot for the reamining parts so bear with me. There will be plenty of tickling in this part...no worries. So without further ado...DallasFootTickler presents...
"T H E C R O W : Revenge of the Black Feather"
PART ONE
October 31st, 1994
Shelly sat back on the couch, gazing out the large window of her loft apartment, eagerly awaiting the return of her fiancé, Eric who was out playing a gig with is band, Hangman's Joke that night. It was so peaceful since this "apartment" was really a converted warehouse which Eric and Shelly rented from an offsite party. No one else lived in the building so they had plenty of privacy and Eric could practice his guitar as loud as he wished. Tomorrow was to be their wedding day and she could hardly wait to enter into the blessed union of marriage with the man she loved so dearly. Eric, too was deeply in love with Shelly, with all of his heart and soul. He would die for her; little did he know how literally this sentiment was about to be tested...
A sharp rapping at the door brought the daydreaming Shelly back to reality. "Eric? You're early", she thought to herself, smiling. However, when she opened the door instead of seeing her gothic knight in shining leather, she was greeted by a rather gruesome looking pack of four trick-or-treaters. They appeared a bit older than one would expect, they might even had been close in age to Shelly herself. From their body shape she could tell they were female.
"Oh," she said, half startled, "Hello there...I suppose you all want some candy."
The apparent leader spoke up, "Yeah, that would be great, honey..." he said and then motioned her to look into his candy bag, "Got anything like this?"
"I don't understand", Shelly said confused, "Doesn't look like you've got anything in there except for an old dish cloth"
"Look closer, sweetie... there's some special candy in there near the bottom of the bag"
Still bewildered and suprised by their arrival when she was expecting Eric she bent down and peering into the bag, placing her face in the opening of the sack. As if on cue, one of the other trick-or-treaters came around behind Shelly and forced her head deeper into the bag until her face met the dish cloth which by no accident was soaked with cloroform.
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When Shelly came to, she was tied spread eagle to her four poster bed with some of her own stockings. Another stocking was placed in her mouth to gag her. Try as she might to get free, the "trick-or-treaters" had tied some Eagle Scout worthy knots and pulling on the stretchy nylon fabric just made the knots tighter. Still incognito due to their ghastly costumes, the young women approached their captive.
"MMMMPPH" was the only sound that could escape poor Shelly as she lie their unable to annunciate words with the nylon filling her oral cavity.
"No don't you worry, sweetie...", the leader spoke, "We ain't gonna hurt ya, we just want to have a little fun, that's all."
Shelly was still visibly shaken. "What would they do to her?" she thought. Her heart sank as she looked over to the alarm clock on her dresser and realized it would still be at least an hour before Eric would be back from his band's gig. Her thoughts were interrupted by the words of the leader.
"You see we here are a little gang, but not your ordinary type of gang. Sure, we may do some vandalizing and theft and stuff like that but we're not violent."
She noticed Shelly's gaze drift over to one of the other women who was holding a gun.
"Oh that", said the leader, "That's just to scare people. It ain't even loaded."
Whether or not that last statement was true did not comfort Shelly any.
"Now, what we do like to do," continued the leader "is to torture our victims in a slightly more creative way that doesn't even leave a mark." With that they all brandished large fluffy neon pink feathers.
"MMMPPPPHHHH!" moaned Shelly. "No way" she thought, "They couldn't mean tickling, anything but that" When she was a little girl, Shelly had an uncle that would always pin her down and tickle her. He would often get carried away and tease the poor girl for long periods of time, especially if she was visiting when her aunt was not home. This left Shelly with a severe distaste and a deep subconcious fear of being tickled. One time Eric and her had been playfully wrestling and he started to tickle her sides. He was a tall, strong guy and easily overpowered her. She screamed and started to cry amid her hysterical laughter. Eric stopped immediately and apologized profusely to his beloved girlfriend. She explained about her uncle, carressed his sorrowful stunned face and told him it was okay since he didn't know. He never tickled her again after that day.
These hooliGans were not going to be as merciful and understanding as her boyfriend. Even if she could explain to them about her fear she doubted very highly they would be disuaded form their intentions. In fact it would probably make them enjoy it all the more.
During her unconsciousness, they had stripped her down to her bra and panties. The leader and one other woman leaned in close near the head of the bed and examined her armpits.
"Ooh these look smooth and sensitive, I bet you'd hate to feel these feathers stroking you there"
"MMPPPPPHHH" Shelly shook her head back and forth with a pleading look in her eyes.
The two women started slowly dragging the feathers down the undersides of her arms on a maddening journery towards her armpits. Shelly's whole body shuddered at this touch but once the furry plumes reached their final destination, she was screaming with laughter into her gag. She had just shaved her pits earlier that day and was feeling extra sensitive. The feathers swept and twirled in the deep hollows of her underarms causing Shelly to buck and squirm. At least her uncle had jus held her down, she could always fight and squirm away. But there was no escape this time. Sh was forced to endure the horrible tickling sensations that tormented her pits. As if the feathers were not bad enough, the women started lightly dancing their long fingernails there as well. This raised the torture up a few notches. It was all Shelly could do to thrash in her bonds and voice her muffled, shrieking protest as these expert fingers wiggled in her pits.
Then all of a sudden, the torment doubled. The third gang member stepped forward and began to knead her ribs. Shelly's squeezed her eyes tightly and tried to bear this increased tickling but it was just too much. The devious woman would poke, prod, and roll the skin over each rib, driving poor Shelly out of her mind. Not wanting to desensitize one spot, the armpit ticklers took over the ribs and the third woman started to dance her fingers all over Shelly's washboard stomach. The ceasing of the armpit tickling was not much of a relief to Shelly since the torment had merely moved down to fresh, tickly skin. A feather swirled in her deep innie belly buttom extracted yelps from the bound beauty. The tummy tickling was unbearable but the worst was yet to come. The rib and tummy tickling stopped for but a moment, allowing Shelly to suck in as much air as she could through the nylon in her mouth. Then one of the women began to trace a single finger along the waistband of Shelly's panties. Oh what a sensitive spot this was. By this point Shelly was too exhausted to fight and just lay there hysterical as this unbelievably ticklish spot was exploited. Then she felt fingers scampering across that area between her belly button and the top of her panties. "MMMMMMMPPPPPPHHHHHH!" poor Shelly groaned between her stomach aching giggles. It tickled like absolute hell.
After a few more minutes of this the ticklers once again withdrew and gave her a longer break. Again Shelly glanced over at the clock and realized that although it felt like hours, this torture had only been going on for about forty minutes. There was still at least twenty more before her savior would come home. Even then, as strong as he was, would he was still out numbered. Shelly didn't have much longer to comtemplate her rescue as she felt her knees being squeezed. "MMHHMMMMMMMHHHHP" She yelped and jumped in her restraints. The feathers and fingers found their way under her knees and all around her legs. They even teased her inner thighs paying care attention not to go too close to her genital area. They were not interested in giving her the slighted shred of pleasure out of all this.
Then again it all stopped. For the first time in over a half an hour, the leader spoke "I think it's time we hear your full throated laughter and begging". With that he removed the now saliva soaked stocking from Shelly's mouth. Immediately she burst forth with stammering pleas.
"OH GOD NO MORE PPPPPLLEAAASSSEE...OH GOD I AM SO TICKLISH...THIS IS TORTURE...YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND I AM DEATHLY TICKLISH...PLEASE NO MORE NO MORE NO MORE NO MORE!"
"Sorry, honey, one more spot" smirked the leader as she looked over at Shelly's bound bare feet.
Taking note of the direction of the lead gang member's gaze, Shelly started pleading.
"Oh GOD NO! NOT THE FEET. OH PLEASE ANYTHING BUT THE FEET. THAT'S MY WORST SPOT. PLEASE DON'T TOUCH MY FEET. THIS IS REALLY TORTURE FOR ME. I HATE BEING TICKLED. I BEG YOU, PLEASE HAVE MERCY."
But her pleas fell on deaf ears as feathers fell onto her soft, wrinkled soles.
"HEHEHEHEH HHAHAAAHAHAHAHA OH NO .... HAHAHA STTTTAAAAAHHHHHHHOOOOOPPPPP!"
The plumes swept up and down her foot bottoms, leaving no part untouched. But feathers can only tickle so much, even with feet as sensitive as Shelly's and so the gang members began to use their finger tips on Shelly's convulsing soles.
"NOOOOOOOOOOO hEHEHEHEHEHEEE HEHHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEH HOOOOO HHAAAAAA OH GOD PPPPPLLLEEEEAAAASSSSEEE STTTOOOPPPP"
Fingernails were dragged from heel to toe on both soles. Shelly was a wreck, laughing hysterically at this unbelievable torment. She screamed anew as plumes found their way in between he twitching toes. Shelly's toes were long and so their stems gave plenty of room for tickle torture. As if the feathers scraping the side of her digits were not bad enough, one of the women began to snake her tongue in between the toes. Shelly let out a blood-curdling scream. He uncle had tickled her feet but only scratched at her soles. She had never been tickled in between her toes and it was worse than anything she could have imagined. Nothing had ever really touched her there except the sides of other toes so this vast expanse of nerve endings was virgin to the tickly touch of a wet tongue. Pulling her toes back the women licked her soles, wiggled their fingers across her arches, scratched her heels and the balls of her feet.
"OOOOOHH HAAAAAHAHAHAAHA NOOOO MOOORRRREEEE HEHEHEHEH EHEHE PPPPPPLLLLEEEEEAAAASSSSSEEEE, I'M GOING TO DIE....NO MORE, OOH GOD MY POOR BARE FEET, NO MORE ON MY FEET....EEEK NOT THE TOES...I HAVE INSANELY TICKLY TOES...EHEHEHEH EHEHHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAH MERCY!"
All the while the remaining fourth gang member had been standing guard watching the torment. Oh how she wanted to join in the fun but a drawing of straws before every night of tickle torture adventure determined which woman would have to be on the lookout for any would-be rescuers. Shelly's eyes were once again screwed tightly shut. Somehow she figured if she wasn't watching the torture would be more bearable. She couldn't see that it was about time for Eric to get back.
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As he approached the building, Eric heard the strange sounds emanating from his apartment. He ran inside, bolted up the steps and burst through the door of the loft.
"What the hell is going on here!" he yelled.
BANG!
In the next few seconds, several events took place simultaneously...
- The tickling stopped abruptly.
- Shelly screamed in horror.
- And Eric, fell face first onto the floor, gripping his stomach which was slowly oozing with blood from a gunshot wound.
"I thought that damn thing wasn't loaded!" barked the leader to her subordinate.
"I always thought that was a stupid rule", retorted the fourth woman, "I mean after all, we ARE a gang."
"YOU IDIOT! Don't you see what you've done?!"
"It was an accident, he startled me."
"YOU FOOL!", scolded the leader, "tickling helpless people for fun is one thing, but you just killed that dude and we are all accessories. You dumb f*ck! Let's get the hell out of here now!"
The four women fled the scene as quickly as posible and disappeared into the night.
Shelly was overcome with fear and sorrow. "Eric!" she sobbed.
Eric lifted his head and crawled over to the bed. Summoning his last few ounces of strength he reached into the dresser drawer, got out a pair of scissors and cut his fiancé's hands free. It would not be long before he would lose a fatal amount of blood.
"Ca... Ca... Ca... Call the ... p..p..p... police" he said collapsing once more.
"Eric?!" she screamed again, and rushed to his side after cutting her ankles loose. Turning him over onto his back and placing his head in her lap. He looked up at her. With his final breath he looked into her tear filled brown eyes and uttered...
"I love you, Shelly"
His eyes closed and the heaviness of his now lifeless head could no long be supported by his neck. He lay there motionless in his lover's arms as the crimson puddle around them grew.
She cried until the police showed up and took her to a safe place. They had heard of this gang of ticklers but since they were always in costume they still could not identify the members. Shelly was granted police protection like so many of the other victims but she soon gave up hope of the gang ever being brought to justice. All she could do was mourn the loss of her dear Eric.
O N E Y E A R L A T E R
It was a cold, damp October night and the air was still in the desolate cemetary. But then again there was always an eerie stillness in this place; a quiet resting place those who sleep for eternity... until tonight.
Out of the calmness, there came a flapping of wings, as the siloutte of a large black bird could been seen in the moonlight. The crow came to rest on a gravestone which marked the site where a year ago, up and coming local rock musician Eric Draven had been tragically killed in a gang related accident. The crow's hard yellow beak pecked at the chilly stone as if knocking on someone's door. Suddenly, a pair of hands emerged from the soft, muddy earth in front of the stone. Next, forearms, then shoulders and finally a long haired head came up out of the dirt.
Eric looked up into the sky and bellowed. He was disoriented, afterall, he had been dead for over a year...but somehow he was now crawling out of his own grave, and save for the scarred remnants of his fatal adominal wound, he looked pretty much the same as he did the day they lowered his body into the ground.
"What is happening?" he thought, understandibly confused. To him it seemed only moments ago that he rushed to his fiancé's aid.
A loud 'Squawk!' came from the large bird. Eric looked at this interesting creature who seemed to be somehow trying to communicate with him. In his mind's eye Eric saw what the bird was seeing, and could have sworn he could hear thoughts. He was a little taken aback by this apparent telepathic connection he had with the crow. Eric wandered around the vacant cemetary for a while, he tried to tune in to what the bird's mind was thinking and was, quite suprisingly to himself, very successful. "What am I?, Am I dead?" he thought. The crow who had been hovering above him suddenly swooped down and pecked him hard in the arm.
"Ouch!" Eric said startled, "What the hell did you do that fo..." but stopped short as he watched the fresh wound close up and heal instantly.
"Holy Sh*t!" he thought. He picked up a rock and dashed it onto another part of his skin in disbelief. Again, the cut vanished as if by magic. Eric suddenly realized he was invincible and that somehow he was again walking the earth, as if given a second chance. The bird's mind signalled Eric that he should follow as the crow was going to lead him to various places where there were things he needed to do. At first, Eric wondered where the crow would take him. Sensing his lack of complete comprehension of the tasks at hand and the people he would be led to, the crow shook it's tail violently. A few long stiff black feathers fell to the ground at Eric's feet.
Thinking back to that horrible night one year ago and reaching down to collect the dark plumes, he knew what he had to do.
(End of Part one)
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So there you have it. I promise much more tickling and less plot buildup in the rest of the series. I just had to establish my characters and the motivation behind the tickling. Hope you enjoyed it.
-DallasFootTickler
