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Why Amber hates tickling (fiction, f/f - - mother/daughter)

Grolsch

TMF Regular
Joined
May 14, 2001
Messages
202
Points
18
This is part two of a possible series of fictional stories. The characters were introduced in Encinitas High Tickling. This story has more to do with the psychology of why a character can't stand being tickled. Love it or hate it, here it is. As with the 1st installment, I welcome positive feedback, negative feedback, constructive criticism and suggestions.



Amber lived with her mother, Debra. Debra and Amber’s father had divorced when Amber was six. Debra was in her early 40s and was a nurse at one of the local hospitals. While Amber was a large girl with wide hips, very large breasts with a full but beautiful face (many people said she looked like Linda Evangelista, albeit with fuller cheeks), Debra had an average face and verage body for a 40+ woman. Amber looked a little like both her mother and father, but nobody really knew how Amber inherited hertriking face and large, incredibly curvy body. Both her parents were quite intelligent, though, and that’s was Amber’s most direct gift from them.

Amber and her mother were quite close, which naturally led to tension between them at times.
Debra wanted her daughter to do well in school, succeed and achieve on her own merits. She always applauded Amber for her academic performance and was thrilled when Amber received an academic scholarship to UC-SD. On one hand, she would often brag about her daughter. ‘Amber’s so beautiful, here are some pictures’, and so on. On the other hand, Debra got a little upset if someone said ‘she doesn’t look a thing like you!’. Debra had learned that she should not bring any men she dated around the house. Whether they were interested in her gorgeous face or awfully large chest, men often found it hard to take their eyes off Amber. Neither Debra nor Amber wanted that for several reasons. Debra might have been a little jealous of her daughter’s looks, but mainly, she was proud of her daughter and only got upset when Amber was unhelpful at home. Much to Amber’s annoyance, Debra was not hesitant, to tell Amber how she thought Amber should behave. That included dress, date, diet and other characteristics about Amber’s personal being.
.

From Amber’s perspective, the worst, though, the absolute worst, was the tickling her mother used to tease her. Some of the worst episodes happened when Amber was virtually helpless. She’d learned never to go shopping with her mother. Once, Debra was trying on clothes with Amber. In a kind of awkward moment, Amber’s head got stuck inside a sweatshirt. ‘Oh, Mom, help me get this thing off’. Debra said ‘sure, dear…does this help?’, and started tickling her midsection. Amber never forgot that because she was tickled on her sides, ribs and lower back for almost a solid minute and nearly lost control of her bladder. She had to use the store bathroom while her mother explained how ticklish she was to the staff. Another time, Debra finally convinced Amber to try on a tank-top, a very tight one. Amber’s chest bulged out the top and sides and her belly showed. ‘Mom, I can’t wear this, it’s stupid’. But Debra said ‘Of course you can, it’s sexy, you may as well show off what you’ve got!. Unless…you’re afraid of…giddy giddy giddy!’, and Debra pinched Amber’s belly near her bellybutton. Amber jerked back and screamed the second she heard the word “giddy”. When her mother tickled her belly, she burst into her high-pitched laugh. ‘HEE HEE HEE NO MOM DON’T’.

Amber hated the word “giddy”. It was the word Debra had used since Amber was a child right before she tickled her daughter. If someone even said that word innocently, Amber would sometimes jump and scream. It made her incredibly nervous. Debra knew that she’d conditioned her daughter. If Debra wanted something, really wanted something, all she had to do was say “giddy giddy” and wiggle her fingers. She usually didn’t even have to touch Amber, the effect was so strong. ‘Amber, get me some tea, please’. ‘No, Mom, get it yourself, I’m busy’. ‘Are you sure? Giddy giddy giddy’, Debra would say in a sing-song, mocking voice. Amber would concede immediately.

Amber was laying on the couch watching tv when her mother came home. ‘Hi, honey’, Debra shouted. ‘Hi, Mom’, Amber said less than enthusiastically. Debra put her bag on the table. She’d already changed from her work clothes and was wearing some gym attire: shorts, sneakers and a tank top. ‘Amber, I’m going to need for you to mow the lawn tonight, ok. And could you have some dinner made by the time I get home, I’m going to the gym’. Damn, Amber thought. She didn’t mind dinner so much as mowing the lawn. ‘Mom, I’ve got homework to do, plus I have two tests tomorrow’. This was the typical struggle with her daughter. Amber was laying on the couch, still wearing her school clothes (a button-down short-sleeve white shirt, long khaki pants) but had clearly started relaxing. Her sneakers were off, feet were up and she had a soda. ‘Amber, please. It won’t take you more than 45 minutes. It’s a nice day, it will be good exercise’. Debra walked over to the couch and gave Amber a motherly look of incredulity. ‘Mom, you’re dressed for it, you’re planning on exercising, can’t you do it or can’t it wait ‘til tomorrow?’.

Debra stopped and silently glared at her daughter. ‘Couldn’t you just volunteer once, why does everything have to be a struggle…the last thing you need to do is sit around watching tv’, she thought to herself. Amber’s shirt was getting quite tight around her chest. Debra could also see the outline of Amber’s bra through the shirt and could see that it was considerably too small. Debra knew those clothes were only a few months old and were looser then. ‘You’re getting too fat’, Debra thought to herself. She was mainly thinking about her daughter's expanding bosom, although Amber was by no means skinny. ‘If you don’t get more exercise, you’re going to look like a freak. How much do you weigh now, have you weighed yourself recently? Are you outgrowing your bras, it looks like you need a larger cup. Goddess bras is having a sale…’.

‘MOM! Shut up about it!’. Amber hated it, truly hated it when her mother talked about Amber’s chest. Amber knew she needed to get some new bras. She knew her current ones were way to small. She’d measured herself and knew she needed to go up 2 cup sizes. Amber felt like if she could jam everything into a smaller bra her breasts would be less conspicous, but it really wasn’t true. There was an element of humiliation, or so she thought, about actually owning some huge, catapult-like bras. The teasing, she thought, the shear teasing if anybody found out she actually wore one of Goddess bra’s size F cups…

‘Well, we’ll take care of it later’, Debra told her. ‘You could use the exercise yourself…is that a regular Pepsi you’re drinking?’ ‘Mom, stop it, I’ll drink what I want’.

Debra could see this was going nowhere. She had to resort to her tried-and-true tactic. ‘Well, Amber, are you going to mow the lawn, or do I have to…giddy giddy giddy?’. Debra jumped on top of Amber’s knees and held her fingers out over her daughter’s middle. ‘MOM, DON’T!’ Amber panicked. She could see her mother’s wiggling fingers held high in the air, ready to descend onto her midsection. Amber wrapped her arms around her middle, but she knew that would not do much good, since she was so ticklish practically everywhere else. ‘Giddy giddy giddy…are you going to mow the lawn?’. Debra moved her hands just over her daughter’s belly. Amber flinched and screamed. The effect to Amber was unnerving. She couldn’t over her own chest to know where her mother’s fingers were; she could practically feel the tickling. ‘MOM, PLEASE!’, Amber screamed. Debra was smiling and laughing, she knew she had Amber trapped. ‘Ok, Ok, I won’t tickle your sides, or your ribs, or your belly’, Debra said as she moved her fingers around those sensitive areas. Amber started giggling even though she hadn’t been touched yet. ‘I’ll tickle your feet instead!’. ‘NO PLEASE DON’T MOM I’LL…’

Debra had straddled Amber’s knees so that Amber couldn’t get her legs free. She reached behind herself and felt for the soles of her daughter’s feet. While Amber was ticklish virtually everywhere, she especially hated having her feet tickled. Being tickled in different places produced different results. If someone got Amber on her sides, she would laugh, wiggle and scream. If someone got her belly, she would yip and shriek If someone got her knees, her worst spot, she would double over, go breathless and try not to fall on the ground. If someone got her feet, she would laugh incredibly hard. Amber had no control over what she did; she was so ticklish that she was almost instantly out of control once it started.

The worst part about foot-tickling was this weird, almost burning quality. Of course, Debra knew how much her daughter hated it. She started wiggling her fingers against the soles of Amber’s feet. Amber erupted into laughter. ‘HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE’. Amber’s belly was convulsing, and she started bucking and twisting to try and get free. For whatever reason, having her feet tickled made her laugh extremely hard. It was almost impossible for her to breathe or speak. Debra was talking while Amber laughed: ‘Oh, sorry Amber, your feet are pretty ticklish aren’t they!’ ‘HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE! ‘Oh, your face is turning red!’. ‘HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE’ ‘Can’t you stay still for a second?’ ‘HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE!’

She’d only been tickled for about 10 seconds, but tears were starting to form in her eyes. Bucking as violently as she could, Amber still couldn’t twist away or shake out from underneath her mother. She was using her hands to try and gain some leverage by pushing against the arm of the couch, exposing her torso. ‘Oh, Amber, I see your belly!’, and Debra moved one hand from Amber’s foot and slid a finger in between two of the buttons on Amber’s shirt near her navel and tickled her there. ‘Giddy giddy giddy!’. ‘HEE HEE HEE…’, Amber decayed into silent laughter and after about 20 seconds was clearly past the point of torture.

Debra quit tickling. ‘So, are you going to mow the lawn?’. Amber coughed and breathed heavily. Her clothes were twisted around her. ‘Yes, Mom, I will, please don’t tickle me’. Amber was on the verge of crying. Debra took one last stroke across her daughter’s right foot. ‘YEEE!’. ‘Ok, Amber. Remember who’s the boss here! I don’t want to have to do this to you, but sometimes you’re so stubborn. I’ll get your knees next time and you know what happens when I do that!’

Amber had a list of “why’s” she often asked herself. ‘Why can’t I be light and thin like Jackie. Is my face really as pretty as people say…I know I’m smart, do people like me for that, or is it my body. Why do I have to be so awfully ticklish? Why do I have to be so ticklish everywhere. Why does my mother have to go right for my biggest weakness…why do boys have to tickle me so much. Oh well, it’s a nice day for lawn-mowing at least’.

Next: Does Jackie have a ticklish spot
 
Thanks for the positive response, Tummy! There's some pretty good belly & foot tickling coming up next, so I think you'll like it. Anyway, I'm glad you liked it. G.
 
An excellent twist on the mother-daughter story; I especially like how you go into the backstory, which gives you even more of a feel of why Amber hates being tickled. Great and detailed work! I hope to see more of this series!
 
This story is amazing. I hate tickling as well and my name is Amber. The only difference is I'm basically skin and bones and I was born with problems, lmao. >>
 
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