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The Return of Kittletown

MaxSpeer

1st Level Red Feather
Joined
Apr 18, 2001
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Introduction: I began writing the Kittletown saga back in 1993 as a way to express a mutual interest with a long time snail mail friend. If you’re a writer, then you know that sometimes your creation becomes alive, and you become more of a journalist than a creative writer.
The story of KT follows the adventures of the Mayer family, who began a new life in a small Florida town only to have their world turned upside down by crooked politics and the nefarious plans of a mad scientist named Doctor Gregory who planned to take over the world by turning everyone into tickle fanatics. A total of 3 and ½ books were written until some tickling-related newsgroups became argumentative and problematic.
I have not written a tickling-related story for many years, busy with my own career and vanilla writings. After years of urging by my good friend, John, I decided to write the following. If you enjoy it, leave a kind word.
If you don’t know about the original KT then I hope you give it a read. It was fun to write back then and I’m sure will give you some pleasure reading it. Please forgive my writing style. Remember I wrote it over 17 years ago while I was still pretty new to writing.

Note: The following story takes place shortly after the Mayers move into Kittletown. Jim and Barbara are the parents of Jamie and Buddy. Jamie is Buddy’s older sister. Jim works for a company that engineers tickling machines. The entire town of Kittletown have adopted a philosophy that tickling is a way of life, and plays an important role in their society.

Old Friends and Pizza Boy


“Ma-AHM!” Jamie shouted , running through the living room, her left hand on her hip. Her younger brother Buddy, ran along side of his pretty, blond-haired sister, tickling her exposed armpit.
“Tickle, tickle, tickle, tickle,” Buddy repeated as he followed her swift movements across the living room floor, wiggling two fingers into the smooth pocket of his ticklish sister’s armpit.
Barbara, their pretty, dark-haired mother was sitting and folding clothes in front of the television. She was watching “Springer”.
“Kids! Shh! I can’t hear a thing with that shouting.”
“But mom, Buddy’s tickling me so bad!”
She stood still in front of her mother, squirming her thin body and trying to shake her brother’s fingers out of her armpit. It was agony for the girl. Buddy was laughing sadistically.
“Why don’t you just put down your arm. You’re teasing him.”
“I lost a bet and I have to keep my hand on my hip for 5 minutes. Then I can…eeeeek!”
Jamie’s speech was interrupted as Buddy continued once again tickling his fingers on Jamie’s soft underarm skin. She ran away, hand on hip, as Buddy ran along side, trying to keep his fingers under her arm and repeating, “tickle, tickle, tickle” and other teasing sounds.
“Thank God,” Barbara said, shaking her head and focusing back on the TV.
Springer’s face appeared on the screen holding a mic and saying, “Today we interview a teenage girl named Shannon, who lived with her aunt and uncle in a small Mississippi town, and was tortured daily by… tickling of all things.”
***
In another part of town, Claude, a large framed man was watching the TV while a frail, older gentleman prepared coffee with a stovetop expresso maker. He was also watching Springer.
“Doctor Gregory,” Claude shouted. “Doctor Gregory!”
“Yes, yes, what is it.” The old doctor carefully measured out a scope of Italian roast and, hand shaking a bit, poured it into a strainer.
“Did we send Formula T to any place in Mississippi?”
The doctor stopped for a moment and said, “Yes, I send Bobby to Catfish Run a while back to dose the water supply.”
Claude bit into a donut and said with mouth full, “I know we sent it to that institution, the place where that girl – what was her name? Oh yes, Pinky – escaped.
***
It was a Monday in summer. Kids were out of school and the older ones had summer jobs like Amy, who worked at the Kittletown Diner. She was waiting on a group of four, a young boy and girl and their parents. Amy and Jamie were good friends and worked together at the diner. Jamie was scheduled for the night shift.
She had gotten the job soon after arriving in Kittletown and was a frequent victim of her boss’ tickling. He loved blonds and Jamie’s long, wavy blond hair was very sexy to the creepy man. When she first landed that job he had tied her up and tickle tortured her until she agreed to relieve his sexual tension. Jamie was afraid to tell her parents about it since they really wanted her to have a job, and jobs were scarce in that small town. Had she told them, they would have replied that there was nothing they could do about it. Her boss had the legal right to torture her like that.
Amy was much shorter than Jamie and not quite a skinny, but she had an adorable baby face and a cute giggle.
“What can I get you folks?” she said holding her pad. The Kittletown Diner’s uniform was a cute, striped sleeveless dress with lacy fringe around the armholes like a pinafore. The skirt was short exposing her flawlessly smooth legs. The outfit made the girl look like a little cutie pie.
The kids in the booth giggled and started poking Amy, which made her squeal and wriggle. She couldn’t tell them to stop. It was their legal right to tickle her. They laughed as they saw her body squirm left, than right as they poked their fingers into her ribcage.
The father smiled, reached over and tickled the girl’s waist with claw-like hands, causing Amy to drop her pad, squeeze her eyes shut and shriek, laughing hysterically and wriggling around like a fish out of water.
“I swear Amy,” the man said as his wife smiled and looked a bit embarrassed for the girl. “You have the most ticklish sides I ever tickled.” Then he looked at his wife, who gave him a dirty look. “Except for you honey.” He wrapped his arms around his wife and began tickling and tickling her sides and tummy making the woman squeal in laughter as their kids watched and laughed along.
***
In another part of town, in a basement filled with smoke, the Tickle Punks laid on couches and the floor smoking weed and listening to 90’s grunge.
Suddenly, someone opened the door and walked in. He looked as if he had walked into the wrong party. He was dressed in a red and white striped uniform and had a red apron tied around his waist. It was Waldo walking into a cage of gorillas.
“What the fuck are you?” one of the Punks said sitting up and squinting at the intruder.
“Did someone order a pizza?” the stranger said. There was a moment of quiet followed by loud laughter as they grabbed and hugged Pizza Boy, who was finally off work for the day. They messed his hair and stuck a small pipe into his mouth and lit it. Pizza Boy took a long drag and held his breath.
After a while, they asked him how he was doing and he simply said, “She’s gonna be alone tonight.”
They knew whom he meant. Ever since she moved to Kittletown, he was in love with Barbara Mayer. Not long after she moved in, Pizza Boy attacked the woman and tickled her within an inch of her life. He had been obsessed with her ever since.
In Kittletown, a man has the right to tickle any woman he wants but it was generally frowned upon for people in the service industry to attack women in their own home. She was just so sexy to him. Barbara, although older than he, had a very youthful sexiness. She resembled the actress Jacqueline Bisset in her best years on screen. He had stared at her flawlessly smooth, unblemished skin and felt an uncontrollable urge to touch her and see how soft and sensitive she was.
“I think we should pay her visit tonight,” said one of the Punks. “We can hold her down while you have your way with her.”
Pizza Boy felt a stir in his groin at the thought of having Barbara Mayer stretched out on her living room floor for him.
He gulped and closed his eyes with the fantasy of that in his head.
“Okay. Tonight.”
***
Jim Mayer was in his workshop putting some finishing touches on a small device when his receptionist, Grace walked in holding a Styrofoam cup of coffee.
“Two sugars, extra cream,” she said and placed it on his desk. She was looking quite fetching in her mint green sleeveless dress and black pumps. Jim stared at her as she turned to walk away. She gave him a coy smile.
“Thank you. Oh Grace, can you help me for a second?”
“Of course, Jim. What can I do?”
He nodded towards the chair next to him. It was the prototype for a new tickling machine. “Can you sit in the chair?”
Grace looked at the chair knowing full well its potential for torture and hesitantly sat in it.
“I’m not going to strap you in. I’m really testing the pleasure module.”
“What’s it do?” she asked shifting her bottom to get comfortable on the leather seat. Then she crossed her legs and her pump fell to the floor. She bent down to get it but Jim stopped her.
“Don’t, I need your shoe off.”
To her surprise, he pressed the module to his groin and wrapped a strap around his waist. Then he clipped it and tightened the strap so it sat tightly against him. He turned on a small, plastic toggle switch and then a few buttons on a remote unit. The chair hummed.
“Okay,” she said. “That’s, uh, different.”
“Give me your foot,” he said. Grace reluctantly placed her stockinged foot on his leg. Grace had very ticklish feet and knew that she was about to be tickled by her boss, but submitted easily. Her toes wiggled a little inside her hose.
“I hope my feet don’t smell,” she said giggling.
Jim reached a single finger up and slid it down the centerline of her sole. Two things happened suddenly. She jerked her foot back by bending her knee as the tickling sensations proved too intense for her. At the same time, her tickle response was interpreted by the tickling machine, which sent a pulse into the module on Jim’s groin stimulating his penis.
“Oh my fucking hell, it works!” Jim said. It felt exquisite!
“What happened?” Grace said rubbing the bottom of her foot in hopes of rubbing away the tickles that lingered still.
“It’s like a TENS unit. It stimulated me in direct proportion to the intensity of the tickling. Give me your other foot.”
Grace slipped out of her other pump and placed it on Jim’s leg. This time she was curious as to how he would react, knowing now that it was sexually stimulating him.
He held her ankle with one hand and tickled her sole and right under her toes with spidery finger tickles. Grace shrieked and pulled her foot but he had a strong grip on the girl. He tickled the bottom of her foot ruthlessly as she howled in hysterics, gripping the arms of the chair.
The module hummed and sent waves of intense stimulation to Jim’s penis bringing him almost to orgasm so he stopped abruptly.
“Oh my goodness,” she giggled as he released the grip on her ankle. “That tickled, oh my goodness, so much!”
“I almost came in my pants,” Jim said unbuckling the unit. I can see that a person could get quite addicted to this machine.”
“And you’re the genius that invented it,” said Grace staring into his eyes. “Your wife is a very lucky woman.”
“Oh that reminds me. I have to call her and tell her I need to work pretty late tonight. I’ve got so much more work to do.”
“What a coincidence,” she said looking down at the place where the module used to be. He had not yet come down from his experience. “I have lots of work to do as well.”
***
“Did you pack your toothbrush?” Barbara said to Buddy as a horn blew out front.
“Yes.”
“I’ll pick you up tomorrow afternoon. Okay?”
“Yes.”
Then he was out the door and jumping into the back seat of an Explorer driven by Shelly Callen.
“Does my hair look dorky?” Jamie asked trying to pull her long locks into a back ponytail.
“No honey, you look gorgeous.” Then, seeing her daughter’s two armpits exposed by her sleeveless Kittletown Diner uniform, tickled her quickly with both hands on her smooth, hairless skin.
“Momeee! Hee, hee, hee!” Jamie giggled as she bent forward, wriggling and trying desperately to keep her hands on the rubber band and her hair.
When the ponytail was tight enough she lifted her head and kissed her mother on the cheek and ran out the door.
My ticklish daughter, Barbara thought. They are going to eat her alive in this town.
It was 5 o’clock and Barbara Mayer had spent the day washing and folding clothes and catching up on her television shows. She fixed herself a quick dinner, ate in front of the TV that sat on a counter top in her kitchen, then went upstairs to shower.
She slipped out of her shorts and tank top and turned on the shower. When it was warm enough she slipped in and soaped up her beautiful, slim body, then reached up and shampooed her hair. She was a fabulously beautiful woman and was grateful for the pampering she received at the Salon.
After drying off, she slipped into a spaghetti strap sundress and went into the living room to watch a movie she had been saving for the evening.
She was downstairs barely a minute when the doorbell rang.
“Who is it?” she called through the door.
“Pizza Boy.”
Barbara smiled. She was flattered that this younger man had a crush on her but she needed to snip it in the bud. She started to open the door saying, “Look, you can’t keep coming in here…”.
Suddenly there was burst of noise as a gang of thugs, the Tickle Punks, entered her home. Barbara was frightened and tried to run out of the door but was stopped by one of the female punks, who pushed her back inside. She started to run towards her stairs but was grabbed. She fought for some control but they clasped hard on her wrists and, soon, she was lying flat on her back on the rug in the middle of the living room. A Punk on each wrist and a Punk on each ankle.
“Please,” she begged, trying to sound as calm as possible. She knew they weren’t going to do her any real harm. “Please let me go. You can’t do this.”
“Looks like we already did,” one Punk said and they all laughed. All in all, there were 6 Tickle Punks, 4 boys and 2 girls, as well as Pizza Boy. He was no longer in his uniform. He was dressed like the others.
Pizza Boy stared down at his catch, the beautiful Barbara Mayer. She was stretched out dressed in her sundress. Her long, slender arms were over her head making her look as if she were a cheerleader forming a “Y”. He stared at her flawless smooth, totally hairless armpits (a gift from the Kittletown Salon ). Her waist curved outward and her dress lay softly on her hips. Her long, legs, held tightly, slimmed down to two perfectly manicured toes. Burgundy toenail polish matched the same on her fingernails. Her feet appeared to be about a size 7 and her arches were perfect – neither high nor flat.
“You’re a tickler’s dream girl,” Pizza Boy said as he knelt by her, then straddled her waist.
“Please don’t tickle me,” Barbara pleaded, pulling hopelessly with her hands. They had her pinned real good.
Pizza Boy reached up and wiggled his fingers in front of her face. Barbara held in a laugh and tried to maintain the frightened look, hoping it would turn them off. However, as soon as his fingers touched the insides of her elbows she was reduced to a giggling schoolgirl. The sensations of tickling were so intense she squealed and wriggled as his fingers created a spidery wiggling of ticklish torture down the insides of her arms. Barbara shook her arms and let out a long, extended, “Nooooooooo!” Then, she began laughing and laughing and shaking her arms.
Normally, a woman’s armpits are a very sensitive spot, and very vulnerable to the invasive tickling of a finger or any soft object. Barbara Mayer’s armpits, like those of her daughter, were exquisitely ticklish. Touching it was nothing short of torture.
When Pizza Boy’s fingers finally slid into the deep pockets of her armpits and began wiggling in the soft and smooth hollows, Barbara squealed, squeezed her eyes shut and began laughing hysterically, her laughter several pitches higher than before.
The Tickle Punks were pleased. They chuckled, watched with unblinking eyes and rubbed the bulges in their pants.
“Does this tickle?” Pizza Boy said, teasing her and emphasizing the word ‘tickle’.
The tortured woman could not answer, as she was in a zone of pure sensation, reacting animalistically to the invasive tickling fingers in her horribly ticklish armpits. Her sleeveless sundress offered no protection against the assault, blatantly exposing her armpits to the sadistic tickler.
When Pizza Boy finally stopped, Barbara coughed trying to catch some breath.
“Why’d you stop?” one of the Punks said, rubbing the front of his jeans.
“I don’t wanna kill her!” Pizza Boy said. Then he looked at what the Punk was doing and added, “Have you no shame?”
When Barbara caught her breath she said as calmly and softly as she could muster, “Please. I know you’re all good kids. Please don’t do this to me. It’s torture. It’s not pleasant.”
“It is for me,” Pizza Boy said and they all laughed. Barbara wimpered.
Pizza Boy lowered his hands and placed his fingertips on Barbara’s thin waist. His index and middle fingers touched her lower ribs and the rest nuzzled into the soft sides of her waist inches from her belly button. Then, he began tickling.
Instantly, Barbara squealed and began laughing and giggling once again. This time, she had a little more control and pleaded with him to stop until the laughter took over and she lost control.
“Tickle, tickle, tick-kul!” Pizza Boy teased as if he were tickling a baby. But this was no baby. This was a wondrously sexy woman with a killer body that was wickedly ticklish.
Again, Pizza Boy stopped and let her catch her breath. Again, she tried to reason with him but he was too sexually charged by her voice and her laughter that it only served to stimulate him more.
He stood up. Then he turned around and straddled her legs. He was now facing her feet.
“Please don’t tickle my feet. Please.” Her voice was soft and breathy, barely a whisper. She was losing her voice from the laughing.
Pizza Boy reached forward and hooked his fingers around so that his fingertips were touching the soft ticklish skin on her soles. Then, he began wiggling them.
The nerves of her foot bottoms fired in torturous stimulation. Her feet were horribly ticklish as well and she fought to pull them free of the strong grips.
“Eeeeeeeeek! Hee hee hee hee,” she giggled, wiggling her toes frantically as the 8 fingertips slid a ticklish trail of torture on her soles and the balls of her feet. Even his thumbs, which were anchored on the tops of her feet started sliding up and down creating another area of ticklish torment on the poor woman. Her entire world of torture was now focused on her two feet as his fingertips skillfully tickled and tickled the soft, smooth wrinkles.
One of the female Punks knelt down and started sliding her long nails into one of the hollows of Barbara’s armpits. Barbara was freaking out like never before, as she tried to process the tickling on her feet and now her armpit. It was too much to take and she screamed as she laughed. The addition of the female fingers in her armpit, first one then the other, seemed to make all the tickling of her entire body escalate to a higher degree. Barbara feared she might pass out as she struggled to catch her breath, laughing and laughing hysterically.
Then, something miraculous happened. She began to feel a warm tickling between her legs that grew stronger and stronger.
Pizza Boys fingers were unceasing as they continued tickling the woman’s feet. The female Punk now slipped both hands into the deep hollows of Barbara’s underarms and began tickling softly. The girl enjoyed touching the baby soft skin. The combined sensations on Barbara’s body erupted into a sudden and intense orgasm.
The Punks noted a change in her laughter that sounded as if it was mixed with moans of pleasure.
“Yo,” said one of the Punks to Pizza Boy, who remained oblivious and entranced.
“Yo!”
He looked up, stopping for a second.
“I think…I think she just busted a nut.”
“A wha?” The girl, who had been tickling Barbara’s armpits but stopped when she knew what had happened started to giggle.
“What a loser,” she said mockingly.
“What happened?” Pizza boy said now sitting upright.
“Your girl,” the first Punk said. “She just busted a nut. You know, came.”
He looked back at his dream girl, now, eyes closed, fast asleep.
“Holy fuck,” was all he could say.
 
Brings back memories. I think one of the last stories I read from you was with Barbara Mayer and Pizza Boy. Loved it then and love it now!
 
Well, I don't know if this makes you happy, but I'm one of a big fan of your story. And I'm really glad that you're back in action again.
 
Dear Max,

You and your work have truly been missed.

The Return of Kittletown is a wonderful surprise!

It also marks the return of a true master of the genre!

Welcome back my friend!

Jim
MTJpub.com
 
Loved it! God I miss the Kittletown stories. I've read them all about ten times, and they never get old. Glad to see you're still around Max!
 
Max.. You are a god when it comes to writing.. How about bringing Shannon back.. Or her daughter who is now 18 ends up at her aunt and uncle's house.. thought this was a new story.. Again you are a god when it comes to writing.. JK 1974
 
Absolutely wonderful story, Max! Loved it! Thank you for sharing your writing talents! Truly remarkable!
 
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