midrifftickler
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Here is the final part of Chapter 2 of The Tickle Cartel. As always, please let me know what you think! Thank you!
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Chapter 2: Transfer to the Tickle Cartel, Part 3
The next morning, Tara watched her prisoner as she slept so soundly that the machine was not confident she would wake up before her next tickle session was scheduled to start. Despite standard protocol, she decided to wake Jen up by lightly running dry paintbrushes over her belly and in her navel. She was sure that her prisoner would not understand the next phase of the tickling, when she brushed the midriff clean, without first seeing the picture the machine had painted on it. “EHEHEHEHE!” the ticklee quickly woke to the light tickles, and once she was awake, the machine ceased. “Good morning, Tara, what was that for?”
“I thought you were going to sleep past the start of your tickling,” the machine answered. “Before we begin the next tickling, I need to show you the picture I painted last night. You were so tired when I got done that I didn’t even try to show you then. Go to the mirror on the other side of the room and look at that cute tummy of yours.”
Jen obeyed, slightly disappointed that her sleep had been cut short, but interested in what the picture would be. To her delight, when she got to the mirror, she saw a very detailed painting of a mother cat and five kittens covering her midsection. “Oh, I love kitties!” she exclaimed to the machine. “That is a really cool painting! And it’s so lifelike. Wow!”
“Thank you, Jen,” the machine affirmed, proud of itself inside. “I worked hard for the entire two hours on that. I’m glad you appreciate it. Unfortunately, I can’t leave you painted when we get to the Tickle Cartel. I’ll have to brush it off when your tickling starts in four minutes.”
“Oh, that’s sad,” Jen opined. “I mean, I kind of thought that would happen, but I just don’t want this painting to go to waste.”
“I’ll take pictures and give them to you before we wash it off,” the machine stated. “I always do that with my prisoners.”
“Thanks!” Jen expressed her appreciation. “I’d love that! Hey, thanks for waking me up to let me see this.”
“Come over and lie down; I’ll take the pictures as I tie you up,” the machine instructed. “When you’re tickling is done, I’ll give them to you.” Jen hurriedly agreed, not seeing any point in delaying the inevitable.
As she came over and got tied up for her tickling, the ticklee remembered times where her stomach was ‘cleaned’ off, although this was not because it was painted on. ‘Beach trips, just like the one Maddie and I had today,’ she thought to herself. ‘Every time, before we got out of the car, there would be feathers dusting over our bare bellies to get the sand off. As I recall, that technique didn’t seem to be too effective on me. Maddie would always take forever to get the sand off, but I guess I deserved it. After all, I would do the exact same thing to her: use feather dusters focused around her bellybutton to make sure every speck of sand got off. We would both hysterically laugh when the other had control of the duster, so much so that we would have to tie each other up when they were being tickled, just to make sure they didn’t cover up their tickle spot. Good times. Let’s see; what was my favorite memory of those times? Ah, yes, the sandcastle competition from last year. Both of us got so much sand on our bellies that time because we were so into the competition. Although it might have seemed childish for eighteen-year-olds to be so invested in a sandcastle competition, we had to be; the punishment for the loser was having your arms, ribs, and legs buried in the sand for ten minutes. To make matters worse, we were isolated on the beach, so the winner could tickle the loser without attracting attention to us. That left way too much ticklish tummy for the winner to torture. Oh, I’ll wait until the actual cleaning begins to get into my story. When is the tickling going to…’?
Jen’s thoughts were interrupted to the answer to her question, “AHAHAHAHAHA!” Wet brushes had begun to cover her entire midriff, brushing effortlessly along the smooth surface. In a fit of ticklish defiance, Jen attempted to squirm away from the brushes, only to have more added on her midsection to tickle away the painting. “SOHOHOHO MAHAHANEHEHEHE BRUHUHUHUSHEHEHES!” she kept laughing as a total of thirteen scrubbing brushes worked over her abdomen ticklishly.
Fully aware that she was powerless to stop the tickling after her failed squirming escape attempt, Jen resorted to returning to her memories of the sandcastle tickle challenge. ‘Mom was the judge of the contest, and she was also allowed to assist the winner in punishing the loser. We both had gotten tickled plenty of times by her, and she didn’t have a favorite for this treatment, so we figured she would be an impartial judge. When she said ‘Go’, we both rushed off go gather sand and water. For a long thirty minutes, we meticulously built and perfected our sandcastles, taking some time out to tease each other about what would happen if we won. Mom warned us to finish up two minutes before our time was up, and when she called time, we were both confident we had won, and the other was going to end up buried. At the end of the competition, my castle was slightly taller than Maddie’s, but hers was a little more creative. She had added some spires around hers to make it look a little more attractive, but mine had a little wall that covered most of the height of the castle. Overall, Mom judged that Maddie’s was a slightly sloppier design, so I ended up winning. I buried Maddie in the sand with Mom’s help, throwing a little sand on her belly just so I could clean it up later. For the ten-minute tickling, Mom and I each sat on a side of our ticklee and focused our attacks near her navel, where we both knew she was most ticklish. That was such a fun tickling that I got to give out. Later on, she got her revenge, tackling me to the ground and beating me in a rolling tickle fight. We had plenty of sand on our tummies by the end of that trip, so much so that Mom told us to start cleaning off on the way home. As normal, I was the first victim of the cleaning tickle duster, and boy, did Maddie get me good that time. Mom had to tell her to give me a breather a couple times because I was laughing so loud. When it was her turn, I showed her absolutely no mercy, and Mom also had to tell me to give Maddie breaks because of how exhausted I was making her. Oh, that was such a fun cleaning.’ While Jen was recalling her most ticklish visit to the beach before getting captured by the Tickle Cartel, she was being ticklishly assaulted by the thirteen brushes as they cleaned her ticklish torso and turned her into a writhing mess. This continued on for two and a half hours of her expected four-hour tickling, and then seven brushes left, leaving only two on each of her exposed sides and one on either side of her bellybutton. The one that had been running over her tickle button was replaced by a very tickly raspberry machine, and fingers ran over the remainder of her stomach, sending Jen into a new level of hysterics. Despite the drastic change in technique signaling a new reason for tickling, this one just to tickle as much as possible, the ticklee continued to remind herself of the ticklish trip to the beach. However, her focus shifted from the cleaning to the tickling she and her mother gave her best friend and the tickle fight that resulted from it. Jen continued to endure the intense tickle torture by thinking about Maddie for the remainder of the four hours, and then she was unbound by the tickle machine.
“Here is something to eat,” Tara presented Jen with her standard breakfast.
“Thank you so much,” Jen was very thankful for the food, and she dug in right away.
“I also have something else for you,” Tara announced, prompting Jen to look up as she kept eating. “Here is a picture of your belly before I washed it clean with my tickling brushes.”
“That’s so cute!” Jen reaffirmed her earlier joy at the picture that had been painted on her most ticklish spot. She quickly began to praise the painting in between mouthfuls of food. “I still can’t believe that this looks so lifelike, but it’s on my tummy. Wow! You are an amazing painter, Tara! I can’t believe that this was painted when you were tickling me; I thought I would have messed it up accidentally by squirming.”
“No, that’s why I put the waist and rib straps on you,” Tara declared. “I must admit, the first time I tried painting, I didn’t do that, and I had to clean the painting up before I finished and do another one in the morning. Sure, it was a lot more detailed because I had more time, but it took me that time to learn that I needed to do the extra straps. My ticklee also knew that the brushes were coming and how they would tickle, so it wasn’t really a surprise for them.”
“Interesting,” Jen acknowledged after she finished a bite. “So, do you always paint the same picture, or do you rotate?”
“I rotate between ten different pictures,” Tara answered. “They’re all pictures of animals, in the hopes that each person will enjoy them. I have cats, dogs, bears, penguins, whales, goldfish, squirrels, lions, horses, and monkeys. They’re all kind of similar, in the fact that there’s usually multiple animals, but they can be significantly different in the setting and activity.”
“For the record, I’m glad I got the kitties,” Jen proclaimed. “I really like kitties, and I even used to have a pet kitten; she’s a cat now. I got her when I was ten and she was just separated from her mom, and we’ve been best friends ever since. She had several litters of kittens, and we’ve given them to friends so that they can start cat families like my family did.”
“That’s really cool, Jen,” Tara acknowledged. “I’ve never met a cat before, but I’ve heard that pets are a great way to socialize.”
“Hmm,” Jen thoughtfully ended the conversation thinking of her cat.
‘I miss you, Lucy,’ the prisoner’s voice turned inside to her own thoughts as she kept eating. ‘You used to join Maddie and me in our tickle sessions occasionally. First, you just came to calm me down after Maddie would tickle me. You would rub against me and let us both pet you. It would calm me down, and it would also make Maddie stop tickling me. But later on, Maddie found out that you were quite a good tickler, and she would put milk on my belly and in my bellybutton to get you to lick it out. You didn’t like it when I squirmed because your licks tickled, so you would always put a paw on my tummy. Of course, that tickled too, so I started laughing harder, and Maddie eventually put waist and rib straps on me to stop me from moving my stomach while you licked and she teased. And when you were done, you would rub up against my midriff, purring, which also tickled. You always took my laughter as a good sign, even if I was really just laughing because you were unintentionally tickling me. Nevertheless, you were still a great companion, even if you did tickle me quite a bit. I love you, Lucy, and I’ll try to see you again.’
Not long after she finished her meal, it was time to give Jen another tickling, so Tara dictated, “Jen, I need you to lie down. It’s just about time for another tickling.” The ticklee obeyed, and soon she was back in a hogtie.
“AHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Jen burst out laughing as she struggled against her bondage when the tickles commenced. For this tickling, Tara had a similar array of tools as the first specialized tickle session. There was a feather duster on each of Jen’s sides, along with six electric toothbrushes covering each side of her belly from the sides to the navel. In her bellybutton, Tara had managed to fit two raspberry machines, each on ten-second intervals with alternating five-second raspberries at an intensity of ten out of ten. The ticklee struggled the hardest that she had ever to get out of the hogtie, furiously trying to get her arms up to protect her midriff, while her head was thrown all the way back in hysterical laughter. Although this was not just pure reaction to the tickle torture that was being inflicted upon her prisoner, the tickle machine took the reaction as positive, thinking that it was only a reaction to being tickled at this intensity. Meanwhile, Jen had managed to get back inside her thoughts to escape the torture.
‘Of everyone who tickled me, you were definitely the worst, Maddie,’ Jen thought to herself. ‘I know I said that you would have tickled me like Tara did to me yesterday, I think you would have followed it up with this tickling once I recovered. And you should know that I would do the same to you, except for the side ticklers. I know those wouldn’t work that great on you. However, I’d love to get you with these two intense raspberry machines in your bellybutton. Man, those tickle a ton, and they never stop. I’d also love to get the whole of your tummy with these electric toothbrushes. I suppose I could actually partly do this. You’ve taped toothbrushes on me before, turned them on, and left me getting tickled by them. Like that one time you decided to make me your personal tickle slave. You pounced on me from behind and tied me up, then started tickling my stomach mercilessly. That was such a long tickling, like half an hour or an hour. Afterwards, you got me something to drink, and then you retied me down to a bed. Then you taped, I don’t know, I think nine, electric toothbrushes on my belly. Not the ones that just go for two minutes, but the ones that go until they’re turned off or run out of battery. When I pleaded for you to not turn them on, that was when you decided to turn each one on. Then you just left me in your room laughing and went to get some food for yourself, I think. A while later, you came back and turned each one off and removed them slowly, leaving the one in my bellybutton on the longest. I was a complete mess, and then you just lightly tickled my tummy for a bit. You know, the kind of tickles I usually like, but this time, I was too exhausted to like them. Oh, you were so mean that time, and I bet that if you’d had this technology, that time when I had the toothbrushes on would have been much worse. You would have put all of this stuff on me: the feather dusters, all twelve toothbrushes, the raspberry machines. I’d have been crying a whole lot more when you came back in smirking and smiling at my predicament.’ Jen’s ability to think of her best friend using the tickling tech on her in various ways allowed her to stand the ruthless tickle torture for the two hours that it kept going on.
When this tickling finally subsided, Tara quickly untied her prisoner and presented her favorite meal of the trip to her. “Eat this, Jen,” she instructed. Once Jen had proved that she was back to functioning normally enough by taking a few big bites out of the meal, Tara continued, “I’ve been informed that we’ve arrived at the Tickle Cartel headquarters. Once you finish eating that meal, Katelyn and Pat will come down and take you out of me and off this ship. I had a great time tickling you, and I am sure you will do well as a tickle slave.”
Next Chapter
Chapter 3: Finding Jen’s Skill, Part 1
All Tickle Cartel Chapters
Previous Chapter
Chapter 2: Transfer to the Tickle Cartel, Part 3
The next morning, Tara watched her prisoner as she slept so soundly that the machine was not confident she would wake up before her next tickle session was scheduled to start. Despite standard protocol, she decided to wake Jen up by lightly running dry paintbrushes over her belly and in her navel. She was sure that her prisoner would not understand the next phase of the tickling, when she brushed the midriff clean, without first seeing the picture the machine had painted on it. “EHEHEHEHE!” the ticklee quickly woke to the light tickles, and once she was awake, the machine ceased. “Good morning, Tara, what was that for?”
“I thought you were going to sleep past the start of your tickling,” the machine answered. “Before we begin the next tickling, I need to show you the picture I painted last night. You were so tired when I got done that I didn’t even try to show you then. Go to the mirror on the other side of the room and look at that cute tummy of yours.”
Jen obeyed, slightly disappointed that her sleep had been cut short, but interested in what the picture would be. To her delight, when she got to the mirror, she saw a very detailed painting of a mother cat and five kittens covering her midsection. “Oh, I love kitties!” she exclaimed to the machine. “That is a really cool painting! And it’s so lifelike. Wow!”
“Thank you, Jen,” the machine affirmed, proud of itself inside. “I worked hard for the entire two hours on that. I’m glad you appreciate it. Unfortunately, I can’t leave you painted when we get to the Tickle Cartel. I’ll have to brush it off when your tickling starts in four minutes.”
“Oh, that’s sad,” Jen opined. “I mean, I kind of thought that would happen, but I just don’t want this painting to go to waste.”
“I’ll take pictures and give them to you before we wash it off,” the machine stated. “I always do that with my prisoners.”
“Thanks!” Jen expressed her appreciation. “I’d love that! Hey, thanks for waking me up to let me see this.”
“Come over and lie down; I’ll take the pictures as I tie you up,” the machine instructed. “When you’re tickling is done, I’ll give them to you.” Jen hurriedly agreed, not seeing any point in delaying the inevitable.
As she came over and got tied up for her tickling, the ticklee remembered times where her stomach was ‘cleaned’ off, although this was not because it was painted on. ‘Beach trips, just like the one Maddie and I had today,’ she thought to herself. ‘Every time, before we got out of the car, there would be feathers dusting over our bare bellies to get the sand off. As I recall, that technique didn’t seem to be too effective on me. Maddie would always take forever to get the sand off, but I guess I deserved it. After all, I would do the exact same thing to her: use feather dusters focused around her bellybutton to make sure every speck of sand got off. We would both hysterically laugh when the other had control of the duster, so much so that we would have to tie each other up when they were being tickled, just to make sure they didn’t cover up their tickle spot. Good times. Let’s see; what was my favorite memory of those times? Ah, yes, the sandcastle competition from last year. Both of us got so much sand on our bellies that time because we were so into the competition. Although it might have seemed childish for eighteen-year-olds to be so invested in a sandcastle competition, we had to be; the punishment for the loser was having your arms, ribs, and legs buried in the sand for ten minutes. To make matters worse, we were isolated on the beach, so the winner could tickle the loser without attracting attention to us. That left way too much ticklish tummy for the winner to torture. Oh, I’ll wait until the actual cleaning begins to get into my story. When is the tickling going to…’?
Jen’s thoughts were interrupted to the answer to her question, “AHAHAHAHAHA!” Wet brushes had begun to cover her entire midriff, brushing effortlessly along the smooth surface. In a fit of ticklish defiance, Jen attempted to squirm away from the brushes, only to have more added on her midsection to tickle away the painting. “SOHOHOHO MAHAHANEHEHEHE BRUHUHUHUSHEHEHES!” she kept laughing as a total of thirteen scrubbing brushes worked over her abdomen ticklishly.
Fully aware that she was powerless to stop the tickling after her failed squirming escape attempt, Jen resorted to returning to her memories of the sandcastle tickle challenge. ‘Mom was the judge of the contest, and she was also allowed to assist the winner in punishing the loser. We both had gotten tickled plenty of times by her, and she didn’t have a favorite for this treatment, so we figured she would be an impartial judge. When she said ‘Go’, we both rushed off go gather sand and water. For a long thirty minutes, we meticulously built and perfected our sandcastles, taking some time out to tease each other about what would happen if we won. Mom warned us to finish up two minutes before our time was up, and when she called time, we were both confident we had won, and the other was going to end up buried. At the end of the competition, my castle was slightly taller than Maddie’s, but hers was a little more creative. She had added some spires around hers to make it look a little more attractive, but mine had a little wall that covered most of the height of the castle. Overall, Mom judged that Maddie’s was a slightly sloppier design, so I ended up winning. I buried Maddie in the sand with Mom’s help, throwing a little sand on her belly just so I could clean it up later. For the ten-minute tickling, Mom and I each sat on a side of our ticklee and focused our attacks near her navel, where we both knew she was most ticklish. That was such a fun tickling that I got to give out. Later on, she got her revenge, tackling me to the ground and beating me in a rolling tickle fight. We had plenty of sand on our tummies by the end of that trip, so much so that Mom told us to start cleaning off on the way home. As normal, I was the first victim of the cleaning tickle duster, and boy, did Maddie get me good that time. Mom had to tell her to give me a breather a couple times because I was laughing so loud. When it was her turn, I showed her absolutely no mercy, and Mom also had to tell me to give Maddie breaks because of how exhausted I was making her. Oh, that was such a fun cleaning.’ While Jen was recalling her most ticklish visit to the beach before getting captured by the Tickle Cartel, she was being ticklishly assaulted by the thirteen brushes as they cleaned her ticklish torso and turned her into a writhing mess. This continued on for two and a half hours of her expected four-hour tickling, and then seven brushes left, leaving only two on each of her exposed sides and one on either side of her bellybutton. The one that had been running over her tickle button was replaced by a very tickly raspberry machine, and fingers ran over the remainder of her stomach, sending Jen into a new level of hysterics. Despite the drastic change in technique signaling a new reason for tickling, this one just to tickle as much as possible, the ticklee continued to remind herself of the ticklish trip to the beach. However, her focus shifted from the cleaning to the tickling she and her mother gave her best friend and the tickle fight that resulted from it. Jen continued to endure the intense tickle torture by thinking about Maddie for the remainder of the four hours, and then she was unbound by the tickle machine.
“Here is something to eat,” Tara presented Jen with her standard breakfast.
“Thank you so much,” Jen was very thankful for the food, and she dug in right away.
“I also have something else for you,” Tara announced, prompting Jen to look up as she kept eating. “Here is a picture of your belly before I washed it clean with my tickling brushes.”
“That’s so cute!” Jen reaffirmed her earlier joy at the picture that had been painted on her most ticklish spot. She quickly began to praise the painting in between mouthfuls of food. “I still can’t believe that this looks so lifelike, but it’s on my tummy. Wow! You are an amazing painter, Tara! I can’t believe that this was painted when you were tickling me; I thought I would have messed it up accidentally by squirming.”
“No, that’s why I put the waist and rib straps on you,” Tara declared. “I must admit, the first time I tried painting, I didn’t do that, and I had to clean the painting up before I finished and do another one in the morning. Sure, it was a lot more detailed because I had more time, but it took me that time to learn that I needed to do the extra straps. My ticklee also knew that the brushes were coming and how they would tickle, so it wasn’t really a surprise for them.”
“Interesting,” Jen acknowledged after she finished a bite. “So, do you always paint the same picture, or do you rotate?”
“I rotate between ten different pictures,” Tara answered. “They’re all pictures of animals, in the hopes that each person will enjoy them. I have cats, dogs, bears, penguins, whales, goldfish, squirrels, lions, horses, and monkeys. They’re all kind of similar, in the fact that there’s usually multiple animals, but they can be significantly different in the setting and activity.”
“For the record, I’m glad I got the kitties,” Jen proclaimed. “I really like kitties, and I even used to have a pet kitten; she’s a cat now. I got her when I was ten and she was just separated from her mom, and we’ve been best friends ever since. She had several litters of kittens, and we’ve given them to friends so that they can start cat families like my family did.”
“That’s really cool, Jen,” Tara acknowledged. “I’ve never met a cat before, but I’ve heard that pets are a great way to socialize.”
“Hmm,” Jen thoughtfully ended the conversation thinking of her cat.
‘I miss you, Lucy,’ the prisoner’s voice turned inside to her own thoughts as she kept eating. ‘You used to join Maddie and me in our tickle sessions occasionally. First, you just came to calm me down after Maddie would tickle me. You would rub against me and let us both pet you. It would calm me down, and it would also make Maddie stop tickling me. But later on, Maddie found out that you were quite a good tickler, and she would put milk on my belly and in my bellybutton to get you to lick it out. You didn’t like it when I squirmed because your licks tickled, so you would always put a paw on my tummy. Of course, that tickled too, so I started laughing harder, and Maddie eventually put waist and rib straps on me to stop me from moving my stomach while you licked and she teased. And when you were done, you would rub up against my midriff, purring, which also tickled. You always took my laughter as a good sign, even if I was really just laughing because you were unintentionally tickling me. Nevertheless, you were still a great companion, even if you did tickle me quite a bit. I love you, Lucy, and I’ll try to see you again.’
Not long after she finished her meal, it was time to give Jen another tickling, so Tara dictated, “Jen, I need you to lie down. It’s just about time for another tickling.” The ticklee obeyed, and soon she was back in a hogtie.
“AHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Jen burst out laughing as she struggled against her bondage when the tickles commenced. For this tickling, Tara had a similar array of tools as the first specialized tickle session. There was a feather duster on each of Jen’s sides, along with six electric toothbrushes covering each side of her belly from the sides to the navel. In her bellybutton, Tara had managed to fit two raspberry machines, each on ten-second intervals with alternating five-second raspberries at an intensity of ten out of ten. The ticklee struggled the hardest that she had ever to get out of the hogtie, furiously trying to get her arms up to protect her midriff, while her head was thrown all the way back in hysterical laughter. Although this was not just pure reaction to the tickle torture that was being inflicted upon her prisoner, the tickle machine took the reaction as positive, thinking that it was only a reaction to being tickled at this intensity. Meanwhile, Jen had managed to get back inside her thoughts to escape the torture.
‘Of everyone who tickled me, you were definitely the worst, Maddie,’ Jen thought to herself. ‘I know I said that you would have tickled me like Tara did to me yesterday, I think you would have followed it up with this tickling once I recovered. And you should know that I would do the same to you, except for the side ticklers. I know those wouldn’t work that great on you. However, I’d love to get you with these two intense raspberry machines in your bellybutton. Man, those tickle a ton, and they never stop. I’d also love to get the whole of your tummy with these electric toothbrushes. I suppose I could actually partly do this. You’ve taped toothbrushes on me before, turned them on, and left me getting tickled by them. Like that one time you decided to make me your personal tickle slave. You pounced on me from behind and tied me up, then started tickling my stomach mercilessly. That was such a long tickling, like half an hour or an hour. Afterwards, you got me something to drink, and then you retied me down to a bed. Then you taped, I don’t know, I think nine, electric toothbrushes on my belly. Not the ones that just go for two minutes, but the ones that go until they’re turned off or run out of battery. When I pleaded for you to not turn them on, that was when you decided to turn each one on. Then you just left me in your room laughing and went to get some food for yourself, I think. A while later, you came back and turned each one off and removed them slowly, leaving the one in my bellybutton on the longest. I was a complete mess, and then you just lightly tickled my tummy for a bit. You know, the kind of tickles I usually like, but this time, I was too exhausted to like them. Oh, you were so mean that time, and I bet that if you’d had this technology, that time when I had the toothbrushes on would have been much worse. You would have put all of this stuff on me: the feather dusters, all twelve toothbrushes, the raspberry machines. I’d have been crying a whole lot more when you came back in smirking and smiling at my predicament.’ Jen’s ability to think of her best friend using the tickling tech on her in various ways allowed her to stand the ruthless tickle torture for the two hours that it kept going on.
When this tickling finally subsided, Tara quickly untied her prisoner and presented her favorite meal of the trip to her. “Eat this, Jen,” she instructed. Once Jen had proved that she was back to functioning normally enough by taking a few big bites out of the meal, Tara continued, “I’ve been informed that we’ve arrived at the Tickle Cartel headquarters. Once you finish eating that meal, Katelyn and Pat will come down and take you out of me and off this ship. I had a great time tickling you, and I am sure you will do well as a tickle slave.”
Next Chapter
Chapter 3: Finding Jen’s Skill, Part 1
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