Disney request(plz dont ignore)

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From my archives... (sorry about the layout)

The Wonderful World of Tickling


Almost all characters described within are owned entirely by the Walt
Disney company, and I claim no copyright to neither the characters nor
the story. It's just a sick and perverted little fantasy that I felt
like sharing with the group. That said, let our story begin:

Prologue:
(In which the villain of the piece escapes to another dimension.)

Bored, bored, bored, he thought to himself. The lithe
of the exhausted young ladies lay limp on his bed, still
bound to their stocks and harnesses. Quills and other
implements of torture gave silent answer to the reason why
the sleeping girls rested with such wide smiles.
His fingers toyed lazily with the odd looking device.
Lights blinked idly on the control panel. It was given to
him by a strange man in a dark alley.
"I know what you do," he rasped. "This will be
something you like."
That had been weeks ago. He remembered being afraid,
fearing the man might be ready to blackmail him over his
kidnapping young girls and tickling them in his basement.
But the man quickly disappeared, and as yet he found no way
the device assisted in his tickling. He assumed the man was
crazy, and perhaps had confused him with some other person.
Still, he played with the device, curious about its
functions.
Suddenly, a red light began blinking; an audible
countdown came from a small speaker: "Transfer in five,
four..."
In panic, fearing he had triggered some bomb, he ran
toward the door, ready to hurl the device far from him.
"...two, one..."
He reached back to throw.
"Jump initiated."
The world went white around him. He thought he was
dead.
Then the color came back--emerald greens, ruby reds.
Brilliant colors. And something else...
He looked down at himself. Like his surroundings, he
had changed as well. So had the device.
He was a cartoon.
He ran, leaving little cartoon puffs of dust behind
him. After a while, he stopped, out of breath. He leaned
against a tree, and rested. While he rested, he watched.
Other cartoon people walked about him, some merely walking,
others engaged in regular cartoon silliness.
One girl, drawn extremely well caught his attention,
and he thought to himself that if he were ever able to find
a tickling cartoon, this is the girl he'd want starring in
it. No sooner than he thought it, the girl was grabbed by
two cartoon Arabs, who tied her to a camel and began
tickling her mercilessly.
He gaped. Coincidence. It had to be
He looked around and spotted Little Red Riding Hood,
ready to skip through the woods to grandmother's house.
He thought about the wolf ripping Red's clothes off and
tickling her ribs.
Again, the thought became deed.
He looked at the device that brought him here. The LED
readout was blinking "RECORDING", then stopped.
I am going to like this, he thought. It's insane, and
it's sick. But I am going to enjoy this.
With a villainous laugh, he drew his cape about him (a
cape that had just appeared, because he felt that he should
have one) and disappeared from view in a puff of smoke.

Chapter 1: A Dream Is A Wish
(In which Cinderella is punished by her wicked
stepmother, and how her mice and bird friends help her make
the best of a bad situation.

"And you'll stay here until your sisters and I feel you
have had proper time to reflect upon your behavior," the
wicked stepmother said, as she tightened the metal cuffs
around Cinderella's wrists and ankles. Cinderella had
suffered the misfortune of coming out of the bathtub after
having used all the soap, which sent both Drizella and
Anastasia into fits. To placate the girls, the stepmother
grabbed Cinderella and bound her in her room on her
mattress, without even giving the poor girl a chance to
dress.
The door shut behind the stepmother. An almost
inaudible click signalled that the door had been locked from
the outside.
Cinderella sighed, and stared out her open window. She
gave a gentle tug with her wrists and ankles, but they were
all bound tightly, to each corner of the bed.
Hearing Cinderella's sigh, her little mice friends came
scurrying from their holes and jumped onto the side of the
bed. Jaq, the leader, scampered up to the wrist cuff, and
tried to nibble through, hurting his tooth.
"It's no use, Jaq," Cinderella said. "I'll never get up
from here until stepmother allows me."
"Zuk zuk," replied Jaq. "We'll help Cinderelly," he
said cheerily. "Don't know how, though," he mumbled to
himself. Cinderella began to cry silently.
"Zuk zuk," said Jaq, "don't cry Cinderelly. We'll find
a way to help." He climbed down from the wrist cuff, and
began pacing up and down the length of the mattress. As he
did so, his long whiskers dragged along Cinderella's side
from armpit to hip.
"Tee hee," laughed Cinderella. "Jaq, that tickles."
"Ticklee?" Jaq asked.
"Look, look," one of the female mice exclaimed.
"Cinderelly happy, Cinderelly laugh."
"Yes, yes," another mouse replied. "Jaq does good job!
Let's help Jaq!"
Immediately, nearly a dozen little mice scampered onto
the mattress, past the confused Jaq.
"What?" Cinderella asked, "No, no, Ieee hee heee
heee..."
Jaq looked around. "Zuk zuk. What? Jaq did good. What
Jaq did good?" He looked up, and saw the other mice,
scampering across Cinderella's belly. Two boy mice had taken
up residence , one each beneath Cinderella's armpits and
were busily scraping at the soft flesh. The rest of the mice
had lined up along Cinderella's sides, and had taken a rib
apeice, busily tickling away with their tiny little hands.
"Oh," Jaq replied, seeing the hysterics Cinderella was
in. "That Jaq did good! Cinderelly really happy now. Jaq did
good!"
Jaq climbed onto Cinderella's belly, no easy task, as
it was heaving to and fro. He was nearly knocked off, and
quickly scampered up to her chest, bracing himself between
her breasts.
"Cinderelly happy?" Jaq asked.
"Nahaahaa haaa ahaaa heeeee heee," Cinderella laughed.
The tiny little hands were worse than being tickled by full
sized hands. The seemed to target her ticklish spots
expertly, and she was unable to draw a breath.
Impressed that he had made Cinderella happy, Jaq smiled
to himself. He leaned against Cinderella's left breast,
while his tail made loopy little circles around her right
nipple, adding to the tickling.
"What's going on," a voice chirped from the window. Jaq
looked up, and saw the bluebirds from the tree outside,
perched on the windowsill and viewing Cinderella's situation
with bemusement.
Jaq ran down Cinderella's body and up her bound leg,
toward the window sill.
"Cinderelly was sad," Jaq said. "We make Cinderelly
happy again. See?"
"He hel help heeee plee heee heeeeeese", Cinderella
asked desperately.
"Zuk zuk. Hmm," Jaq mused. He looked at Cinderella,
then at the birds. "Oh, I understand now, zuk zuk," he said.
"Cinderelly wants you to help us make her happy. C'mon!"
One bird looked at the other, and shrugged. Then, the
two of them flew in and perched on the foot of the bed.
"Noohooo ho ho, nooo my fee hee heeet, tee hee hee,"
Cinderella begged.
The birds looked about, and saw Cinderella's bare feet
bound to the end of the bed. Oh, they realized, that must be
where we should help. Each bird extended a wing to
Cinderella's bare soles, and began stroking with their
feathers. Cinderella's laughter became louder.
Jaq was pleased with himself. He had never made
Cinderelly so happy before. He began to march back up her
leg to resume his seat, when he stopped.
"Sniff, sniff. Hmm," he thought. "Cinderelly just took
bath. But must have missed something." He sniffed around a
bit more, and found the scent coming from where Cinderella's
legs came together. Scampering down her waste, he saw a
bare, pink knob glistening amid Cinderella's golden curls.
He sniffed again. "Zuk. Yup, this what Cinderelly missed. No
problem, though! Jaq take care of it." And so saying, the
little mouse began cleaning Cinderella with his tongue, much
the same way he cleaned himself. Cinderella was in
hysterics. The tickling was unbearable, but now her laughter
was mixed with intermittent moans of pleasure.
"Zuk! This part never come clean," Jaq said, irritably,
and went back about his business cleaning Cinderella.
And in a dark corner of the room, hidden in the
shadows, a dark figure stood. The only thing visible about
the figure was a red light, about waist high, blinking a
single word: RECORDING.

Chapter 2: Under The Sea
(In which Ariel finds herself entangled, until her
fishy friends come to her rescue.)

Ariel walked lazily down the shore, gazing longingly
out toward the sea. She had prepared to swim today, wearing
her seashell bikini top and white cotton skirt. But swimming
was more special for Ariel than it was for any other girls
in the town. For one thing, Ariel was married to Prince
Erik, which afforded her a private beach. For another, Ariel
was part mermaid.
Slowly, she waded out into the frothy waters, sinking
deeper and deeper. Her skirt floated up around her, until
finally she was waist high. She removed the skirt, draping
it over some outlying rocks to be retrieved when she came
out. When the water came up to her breasts, Ariel ducked
totally under the water.
Ariel was ever so greatful to her father, King Neptune,
for giving her legs so that she could be with her love,
Prince Erik. But she was even more grateful that his gift
didn't come with the curse that the Sea Witch, Ursula, had
placed upon her when presenting her with the same gift,
namely, the loss of her ability to breath underwater. King
Triton wanted his daughter to be able to visit freely, and
made sure she would be able to make the trip, even without a
mermaid's tail.
She swam along the ocean bottom, poking oysters for
pearls and shooing along slow-moving crabs. She was having
the time of her life, when her foot got caught on something.
She looked down, and found that her left foot had become
entangled in kelp. As she knelt down to untangle herself,
she saw more strings of kelp dart after her right foot. She
tried to swim upward and away, but the kelp held her fast.
Soon, both feet were firmly in the grip of this seaweed
which had decided to take on a life of its own.
She began screaming for help, hoping that one of her
former fish friends would come to her rescue. As she
screamed, more sea fronds wrapped themselves around her
wrists, and pulled her down, stretching her taught until she
floated vertically, helpless beneath the water.
Ariel began to panic. She had never seen seaweed act
this way before, except in the cave of the Sea Witch. She
realized the seaweed must have been under some kind of
spell. As she thrashed about, more fronds grew from the silt
beneath her, reaching toward her helpless body, stopping
mere inches away from her.
"What now," she began to wonder. "Are they going to
wrap me up totally like a mummy?"
Her answer came, as the fronds tilted toward her,
stroking her armpits and ribcage, evoking a startled giggle
from the fiery haired swimmer. "He-hey, stop that," she
scolded. "That ti-hi-hickles."
Her cries went unheeded. The lengths of kelp continued
their maddening stroking, making little circles around her
armpits, along her ribs, and dipping down into her navel.
Ariel could not control her laughter; nor could she even
gather the control to call for help any longer. All she
could do was to accept the tickling and hope beyond hope
that it would eventually stop.
It stopped sooner than she expected it. Looking about,
she saw a pair of octopi, whom she had assumed had come to
her rescue.
"Oh, thank you, friends," she gasped. "Please, help me
get out of this seaweed. It's been driving me crazy with
tickling."
The octopi looked at each other. Then, one reached out
a long slender tentacle toward Ariel.
"Just reach out and rip it off," she suggested. And the
octopus did--but not the kelp; her seashell bikini top.
"No, no," Ariel protested, "the seaweed, the seawee-
hee-heeeeed haah haa hahahaha..."
The octopus had begun stroking her ribs with his
tentacles now, using the tips of two tentacles to tickle
Ariel's exposed breasts and nipples. The new texture created
an entirely different but equally maddening tickling
sensation, which only increased when the other octopus began
tickling her feet. Ariel hadn't had feet that long, so they
hadn't been able to build up the natural callousness that
other girls her age would have. Feet being normally
ticklish, Ariel's were nevertheless more so, and as smooth
as a newborn babe's. While the octopus tickled her feet,
other tentacles stroked and poked inner thighs and wiggled
beneath her knees. This tickling in these new and tender
areas of her body sent the poor girl insane with laughter.
She couldn't form a coherent sentence, and could only barely
sense when the one octopus quit tickling her breasts,
choosing instead to apply its suction cups to her nipples,
gently tugging at them.
The octopus tickling her feet and legs slowly inched
its remaining tentacle toward Ariel's last newly acquired
body part--her vagina. The tentacle made slow, deliberate
circles around the fiery red hair surrounding her slit,
before gently forcing its way into her. Ariel's eyes went
wide. Her hysteria grew louder from the insane tickle
torture she was receiving, as her body began to tense up,
and she screamed in mirth as she experienced the most
intense orgasm she had ever felt before passing out.
The octopi swam away and the kelp sank back into the
ground from whence they sprouted, allowing the naked,
sleeping girl to float gently to the ocean floor.
No one noticed the dark figure hiding behind a rock,
wearing strange tanks labelled "Oxygen" on his back. Nor did
they notice the strange instrument he held, with the word
"RECORDING" blinking in strange red letters across the
instrument's face.

Chapter 3: Be Our Guest
(In which Belle retires for the evening, and has a late
night encounter with the household cleaning staff.)

Belle was exhausted. The kitchen staff had prepared her
a wonderful meal, and had even provided an excellent
floorshow. After eating, she bid Lumiere and Cogsworth good
night, and retired to the chamber the Beast had appointed
her. She still wasn't used to the fact that nearly
everything in the house was a living enchanted object. She
felt uneasy taking her clothes off for bed, wondering which
objects in the room might be hidden voyeurs. Naked, she
slipped under the covers, looking about for anything that
might give a telltale movement. Soon, however, she was
drifting off to sleep...
Suddenly, she felt the bed heave. The wrought iron
headboard and footboard uncoiled, ripping the blanket from
her and wrapping itself about her wrists and ankles.
"Stop this," she cried, anxiously. She struggled
against her bonds, but while the wrought iron seemed fluid
enough when it moved on it's own, it remained as intractable
when she pulled against it as regular, non-enchanted wrought
iron would be. "What's going on," she asked. "What's the
meaning of this?"
A titter caught her attention. "Why, honey," a lilting
voice said, "you've still more people to meet."
Belle tilted her head in the direction of the voice.
There, on the floor, stood a little whisk broom. "You've met
the kitchen staff already," she said. "But, as usual, that
dumb candle thinks the cleaning staff is beneath
recognition."
"But I don't think that at all," Belle replied. "Why,
I'd be happy to meet each and every one of you if only..."
"And you will, honey," the broom replied. "We're all
gathered here in your room." As she spoke, the rooms candles
burned brighter, illuminating the floor. There, standing
about the room were numerous whisk brooms, some scrubbing
brushes, and a veritable army of feather dusters.
"How, how do you do," Belle stammered. "I'm pleased to
meet you all. Now could you please, please let me go?"
"I'd like to, honey," the whisk broom replied, "but
we've got orders to keep you happy. Don't know why it's our
job, but we've been told to do it, and that's what were
going to do."
"It would make me very, very happy," Belle cajoled, "if
you would convince this bed to turn me loose."
"It might at that," the broom said. "Then again, we've
had a better suggestion."
"Suggestion," Belle asked. "From the Beast?"
"Nope, not him," the broom replied. "Someone else.
Can't say who. Just have to follow orders. 'Make Belle
happy!', them's the orders. So troops..."
"Please, let me go..."
"Follow them orders: Make Belle happy!"
The brooms hopped up onto the bed, and began to perform
a little broom-swish dance down Belle's legs and around her
outstretched armpits.
"No!" Belle cried. "Stop that! You're hee-hee, you're
tickling me!"
"That's the idea, sweetie," the broom replied. "Second
battalion: You're up!"
At that, the army of feather dusters leaped onto the
mattress, and began pirhouetting across Belle's taut belly
and young, firm breasts.
"Pleeheeheeease, sto-ha-ha-hap it," Belle shrieked. "I
cahahan't stahahahaaand it. Hahahaheeee hheeeehee!"
"Ah, sure you can," the broom admonished. "We haven't
even really started yet. Third battalion: Move in!"
The few scrub brushes that remained behind moved up to
the foot of the bed, and began to scrabble rapidly around
Belle's captured bare feet, scrubbing her heels, soles and
toes. Belle was in tears, laughing hysterically, and praying
for the torment to stop. Feather dusters danced wildly
across her breasts, occassionally dabbling into her armpits
and around her neck. Some of them moved their ballet down
her belly, across her special area as they moved down to her
thighs. After an unmeasurable amount of time had passed,
Belle succombed to her torment and mercifully passed out.
Some time later, she awoke. She was no longer
restrained, but sprawled out naked on the bed, glistening
with sweat. Had the entire thing been a dream? She wondered
about this, even as she realized the incredibly aroused
state she had awakened in. Idly, she reached down between
her legs to ease her tension, when her hand touched
something. She brought it up before her to examine: it was a
loose feather, left behind from one of the dusters. Belle
smiled wanly at the feather, before bringing it back down to
her private area and using it to bring herself to an
incredibly relaxing orgasm.
In the corner of the room, the word "RECORDING" blinked
silently in red letters.

Chapter 4: A Whole New World
(In which the lamp is stolen by persons unknown, and
wherein the genie pays an unexpected call on Jasmine.)

Jasmine lay resting dreamily on her bed of pillows.
Tomorrow, she and the boy Aladdin were to be married. She
smiled and sighed at the thought that tomorrow she would
share her bed with the one who had rescued her and the
entire Sultanate from the clutches of the mad vizier, Jafar.
Suddenly, at that moment, the genie Jafar appeared in
her room, surrounded by red smoke.
"Jafar!" she shouted. "What are you doing here?" she
demanded. "You're supposed to be imprisoned in your lamp,
buried in the Cave of Wonders."
"Ah, yes Princess," Jafar replied, dripping venom and
honey, "that would be true. But alas, someone has found the
lamp. And loathe as I am to serve any master, I quickly
acceded to his wishes when I learned that they entailed
you."
Turning quickly, Jasmine ran toward the door to her
chamber to call for the palace guards.
"Ah, ah, ah," Jafar scolded. From nowhere, disembodied
hands grabbed Jasmine's wrists and ankles, turned her
upside-down, and floated her back to the evil genie.
"What do you want with me, Jafar," Jasmine spat.
"What do I want?" he replied innocently. "Why, I live
only to serve my master. It is what he wants that should
concern you."
"And that is?" Jasmine asked, glowering. She tried her
best to look like she was in control, despite being held
helpless, topsy-turvy in mid-air.
"Well," Jafar hissed, "this might give you a clue." He
reached for Jasmine's foot, and as he did so, the shoe that
was on it disappeared into smoke. He extended his long
fingernail to her bare sole and gave a few strokes. Jasmine
yelped, but suppressed her laughter, refusing to give in to
the evil genie.
"Hmmm. You have excellent control of yourself, my
dear," Jafar said amusedly. "But let's see how you fare when
your concentration is divided." And with that, he conjured
more disembodied hands that came at Jasmine from all
directions. Some of them bore long peacock feathers, others
came with merely wiggling fingers. Jasmine gulped, as she
realized their vile intentions. As they approached her body,
she blushed as she realized the evil former vizier had
caused every stitch of her clothing to be magically removed.
The hands all reached her simultaneously, tickling at
her armpits, her feet, behind her knees, poking at her ribs
and kneading her thighs. Feathers stroked at her feet and
down her chest around her breaths.
Jasmine held her breath, refusing to let out even the
slightest giggle for the satisfaction of the genie. Jafar
regarded her with amusement, and realized that she could not
hold out forever. If he could just get that first giggle
going...
"I see I'm going to need something to get you started,"
he said. A pair of hands grabbed her buttocks and spread
them wide. Another hand appeared from nowhere, holding a
strange, phallic shaped object. The object was smooth, and
an odd humming noise came from it, as though it were home to
a swarm of hornets. The hand brought the object to her
spread buttocks and traced small circles about her exposed
hole. The vibrations from this thing caused Jasmine to let
out a gasp of astonishment, which was all that was necessary
for her to lose her concentration.
"What is that eheeheeevil thiheeeheeeng," she blurted
out. "Mahaake it stohahahap, I commahaaand youhoohoohoo."
"You command?" Jafar asked. "Princess, your days of
commanding are over. I am in charge now."
Fingers danced across the soles of the Princess' feet.
The blood rushed to her head, making her dizzy. Every time
she looked, it seemed as if more hands were appearing, until
no spare inch of her skin went untickled.
"Hehehellp," she screamed, hysterically.
"Alahaaaadihiihiin, heheheheeelp meeheeheehee.!"
At that time, Aladdin burst through the doorway.
"Unhand her, Jafar," he shouted as he drew his sword.
"Let her go, or I'll carve you into ribbons."
Jafar laughed at the youth's threats. "Why do you want
to hurt me?" he asked innocently. "Look." He gestured to the
helpless, hysterical Jasmine. His voice took on an hypnotic
tone. "Look at what I offer you. Tell me you don't want
her."
Aladdin lowered his sword slowly, his eyes glazing over
as he fell into Jafar's spell.
"Alaahaahadin, dohohon't listen to heeheeheeem,"
Jasmine screamed.
Aladdin walked to Jasmine, helpless in the grip of his
trance.
"Take her, Aladdin," Jafar cajoled. "She's yours. Take
her."
The hands, never missing a tickling beat, turned
Jasmine and lowered her until her musk perfumed coint was
even with Aladdin's face. In a move akin to a cobra's
strike, Aladdin's mouth dove for Jasmine.
"Alahaadihin, dohohon't," she cried. "Stahahap this
nohohow... haahaaahaha haha teehee, mmmmmmm, giggle, mmmmmm,
ooooohhh..."
Behind the ornate curtains, a figure stood silent,

illuminated only by the glowing word "RECORD" which floated
in front of him.

Epilogue:
(In which the villain collects himself and his
belongings.)

He relaxed along the banks of a purple river, while
daisies and tulips argued several feet away from him as to
which flower was the most important in the schemes of
romance. He examined the box in his hands. He had learned
more about it since his first transfer with the machine, and
now felt confident in its every function. As he prepared to
transfer, he did, however, have some concern as to whether
or not he would return to his own world or to some other

world as strange or stranger than the one he had left. He
decided it didn't really matter. If he returned home, he
would play back everything he had recorded and make a mint
in the tickling fetish community with his one-of-a-kind
videos. If he went elsewhere, well, that was simply more to
record until he finally did get home.
He looked about whistfully. He was sure there was more
mischief he could get into here. But, he was growing bored
again, and felt the need to move on. He fingered the

controls on the machine.
"Transfer in five, four..."
And he was gone.