ALIEN V -- CONSUMMATION (The Tickling of Ellen Ripley -- 3 of 3)

Hicks groaned, mouth frozen in an agonized O as the alien tail razored through vital organs. As his dying body dropped to the floor, the bottle of antidote rolled from his pocket and beneath the elevated foot of Ripley's chair.

Ellen's tickled feet gripped her in paroxsyms of tortured laughter. Across the chair in which she was imprisoned, General Perez and the alien stared at each other. Perez pressed a floor button, releasing the mesh bands around Ripley's ankles and wrists. In that split second, the alien grasped the General's arms, lifting him above the helplessly laughing Ripley.

Free of the restraints, Ripley pitched onto the stone floor. The damp cold shocked her system into taking a few breaths, even though she continued laughing hysterically. She noticed the alien above her. Kill ME she gasped.

But the monster's gaze was fixed on the immobile Perez.

"Ripley," the General said calmly. "If you can hear me . . . the antidote is under the chair. UNDER . . . THE CHAIR." As he spoke, the alien opened its dripping mouth, revealing the feared inner jaws. "And my pistol . . ."

The jaws pistoned through Perez's chest, snapping his sternum, shredding his lungs.

" . . . is here . . ." By some hidden strength, Perez unholstered the sidearm and dropped it next to Ripley's prone and quaking body.

Ellen was again growing short of breath, the tickling seeming to spread upward from her feet through her nervous system. In a convulsion of laughter, she slapped the floor . . . and the atomizer bottle. Antidote she thought dimly. With her remaining will, she struck the bottle on the stone floor, cracking off the top. Still laughing crazily, she doused her feet with every drop of the antidote.

The alien dropped Perez's lifeless body on top of the late Corporal Hicks. Still quivering from bare toes to head, Ellen gripped the General's pistol in both hands as the alien whirled toward her. Eat this, you fuck! she cried. Her first shaky rounds missed . . . the third blasted through the alien jaws and exited through the rear of its head. The monster flew backwards into the corridor . . . the same corridor through which Hicks and Perez had brought me into this nightmare Ripley thought, rage beginning to pulse through her.

Ripley stood, slowly, shakily. Perez looked up at her with blank eyes. Fuck you! she screamed, kicking his ribs, bruising her toes, not feeling it, nearly toppling over and catching herself, steadying herself on the arm of the examination chair. The antidote was working well. Her feet were nearly numb. She braced herself against the wall, working toward the hallway, stepping over the alien's body. As she looked at it, her anger grew. FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! Her voice echoed through the web of hallways as she turned . . .

. . . coming face to face with the others she had dream-trapped into her world of heroes, aliens and pawns. Here was the warden and the other shaven-headed men from prison planet Fiorina. Now Cain, Parker, Lambert and Captain Dallas, her shipmates from that first foray on LB 426. Hudson, Frost, Spunkmeyer, Marines from the doomed Sulaco. The androids Bishop and Call. And oh my God oh my God the remains of what Ripley recognized as Perez's medical staff.

Carrying about a dozen jars of green fluid.

"Still using that harsh language, are we, Ripley?" Parker, the muscular black mechanic, said. "Where were you when Lambert and I needed you? You left us to bleed to death while you looked for a kitty cat."

"You let 'em drag me under the floor while you ran," Hudson accused.

"My face burned in acid while you drove away," a charred Frost said.

"No," Ripley muttered. "Fuck NO!" She turned to run. But her feet tingled with pins and needles -- they were awakening from the temporary numbness -- and Dylan, the bespectacled preacher from Fiorina, easily blocked her way, catching her shoulders.

"Never did come to Jesus, did you, Ripley?" Dylan said, smiling broadly. "You left me in molten lead with a fuckin' monster. Where the hell'd you go?"

Ripley screamed: "Someone had to save the universe's ass!"

Silence. All eyes on her. "Tickle, tickle," someone whispered. The gathering closed in around her, slowly forcing her back into the room. Even Perez's eyes were on her, still accusing. "Tickle, tickle," the chant grew louder. "Tickle, tickle. Tickle, tickle."

Dylan and Parker seized Ripley's arms and forced her into the exam chair again, closing the restraints. "FUCK!" she screamed, again and again. "Ripley, that language," Parker smiled. "Whenever will you learn to play nice?" And the prisoners of the nightmare world she had created closed in around the chair. "Tickle, tickle."

"Tickle, tickle." Lambert stepped forward with Call to open Ripley's uniform shirt, pull off her pants. "Thought you were so alluring in the shuttle, didn't you, Ripley? You thought everyone'd watch you strut while you left Parker and me to die? Tickle, tickle, tickle! BITCH! HERO BITCH!"

"I didn't mean . . . I didn't realize . . ." Ripley stammered. "Please . . ."

"Oh, yes, please," Captain Dallas stepped forward. "Beg us, Ripley, beg us since you set every single one of us up to be bug food. No wonder you never once laughed. Too busy plotting and primping and creating this private hell and being heroic. Girl, the way I see it, you're overdue for a good healthy chuckle!"

"Oh, GOD!" Ripley begged. "Please, no, Dallas, Parker, Call . . ."

"Tickle, tickle," everyone chanted. "Tickle, tickle."

Ripley lay in panties, breasts exposed, strapped down, eyes wide with fear as she looked at the prisoners she'd made, prisoners holding jars of alien tickle fluid. "Tickle, tickle. Tickle, tickle," they chanted.

"NO." Ripley squeezed her eyes shut, tried to deny it, "I want to go HOME, MAKE IT STOP, RIDLEY, DADDY, IT'S ME, IT'S SIGOURNEY, GET ME OUT, GET ME OUT, TAKE ME HOME . . !" Her head whipped furiously to the sounds of jars opening, vaccuum seals breaking, liquid pouring over her, oozing over her feet, legs, hips, tummy, underarms, breasts, neck.

"HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HAA HAA HAA HAA HAA HAA HAAAAAH AAAAAAAAH!" Ripley screamed, trying to inhale, her shallow breath feeling like molten fire.

Two more thoughts were able to slip in. At least the antidote's gone. I can die quickly. ThankGodthankGodthankGod . . .

Then Lambert, loudly: "Ripley. RIPLEY." Ripley's wildly laughing face turned toward Lambert, slightly. "RIPLEY. Look. Look what I'VE got."

And in the instant Ripley could still concentrate, she saw what Lambert held.

It couldn't be . . .

THE END

Aliens is probably my all time favorite movie series
I need more

if youve read the Star Wars tickle stories that would be cut scenes from the movie, do you think you could do that with the Alien series?
Make a tickle story for every movie?
If you did that I would be forever greatful
PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

Thanks, Partickle (such a cool screen name).

I dunno . . . I'm not a fiction writer. Just had this little idea and some spare time, and it's all pretty rushed. I did enjoy doing this, though, and I'll give your idea some thought. Your affirmation is appreciated.

One other thing your post gives me a chance to make clear: I LOVE Ellen Ripley. Ripley may be my favorite female film character. She is a hero. I just enjoyed pulling her world inside out to create a tickling scenario.

"Ripley" makes Sigourney Weaver my favorite actress as well, although I also loved her in The Year of Living Dangerously and that political/torture movie in the mid-nineties with Ben Kingsley. And Ghostbusters, of course.

I have fantasized on innumerable occasions about tickling Sigourney; in fact, I did have the opportunity to tickle a woman who could have been her younger sister. Over 6' tall, same facial structure, same pout, same voice. And extremely ticklish. I'm going to write about that non-fiction experience next. But I appreciate the idea and I will ponder it.