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Results 1 to 8 of 8
  1. #1
    Join Date
    Apr 2001
    San Diego, CA


    Kittletown was originally written in 1993. I was a lot younger and not a very good writer. Still, it's a fun read if you want to catch up on the story.
    I guess I can thank covid19 and a friend, who kept bugging me for this. I'll continue as I can. Have fun reading.


    Max Speer 2020
    For Brother John


    Jamie switched off the lights and locked the classroom door. It had been a long school year and she was exhausted.
    I can actually sleep in tomorrow, she thought; at least, for the next 2 months.
    Stepping outside, she inhaled a long breath of air. Gabe, the groundskeeper was cutting the grass. She had always loved that fresh cut aroma.
    “Have a great summer, Gabe,” she called out waving to him. He stared for a moment overcome with sensations as his eyes gazed down her naked, outstretched arm. Then, he snapped back into reality.
    “You too, Jamie,” he said waving and smiling. “Those damned chemicals still in my blood,“ he said under his breath.
    As she climbed into her Mini Cooper, Jamie gasped at the intense heat. She forgot to keep the windows cracked. Even after all these years since returning from Los Angeles, it was still hard for her to readapt herself to the Florida humidity.
    Driving down Main Street, Jamie looked at where the old Kittletown Diner used to be. It was now a hipster coffee bistro. The entire town had changed so much since it used to be called Kittletown. Even the Salon transformed from Snobby Chic to Metal-Chic, complete with chain link fences pulled out of the old Kittletown Punk Club, and stylized graffiti on the walls.
    “Ga-damnit,” she said to herself as she drove past that old diner. “My boss, Sid, used to tickle the shit out of me. He hardly touched Amy but, Oh m’gosh, he tortured me.”
    She suddenly remembered that she needed to call Amy on her birthday. Amy was still out west with her wife, Kristin. They were adopting a baby girl this weekend after waiting over a year.

    Jamie and Amy had been on the adventure of a lifetime. They had traveled out west, determined to bring down the insanity that had been happening everywhere by exposing Dr. Gregory as the source who had poisoned the water supplies.
    However, it wasn’t Jamie or Amy that ended Dr. Gregory and his influence over Kittletown. It was the new millennium, and women standing up for their rights and their dignity. It was the 2000s that brought down that 1960s Bond movie-type misogyny. And, with the end of Dr. Gregory, came the end of Kittletown.
    The first to go was the name of the town. New charters were drawn up and the name officially changed to Mayerville.
    “Good old Dad,” Jamie said as she recollected. “Kicked that old geezer’s ass and got Mom elected as the town’s mayor. Mayor Mayer. Ha! That made me royalty I guess. “
    But that was many years ago.
    When Jamie returned home at the request of her family, she went to college and got her teaching degree. That’s where she met the man in her life, Jason. They were married and had their daughter, Alice soon after. Alice ,now a precocious 10-year-old was more like Jamie’s brother, Buddy than Jamie: a mischievous little tickle monster.
    After college, she started teaching at the Montgomery School, where she and Buddy used to go. Her students, 6th graders, absolutely love her. Even at 35, Jamie still looked like she was right out of high school. This, she attributed not to Dr. Gregory, but the Swedish side of the family.

    Jamie turned the corner of First Avenue, heading home. She passed the building that used to be the Tickling Machine, now an L.A. Fitness club.
    Pulling into her driveway, she saw two female figures waving at her from the front door: Barbara, her mom, and little Alice.
    “Momeeee!” Alice screamed and ran to her, Jamie barely getting out of the car before enveloped in thin arms that squeezed her a little too tightly.
    “Ow! You’re killing me!:” Jamie said squeezing back and planting kisses on Alice’s head. “Hi mom.”
    “You look hot,” Barbara said opening the front door for her daughter and granddaughter.
    “Well gee Mom, thanks.”
    “I mean hot hot. Don’t you have air conditioning in that little death machine of yours?”
    “It didn’t have time to cool down much. I’m only a few minutes from here.”
    Plopping herself down on the couch, Alice jumped onto Jamie’s lap and pulled her phone out of her backpack. She knew her mom’s password, so she unlocked it and immediately started watching TikToks.
    “What’s Dad doing today?”
    “Well, you know him,” she said bringing her overheated daughter a cool glass of iced tea. “He’s with his engineering buddies. Probably building drones or, by now, a time machine.”

    Outside of town, Jim Mayer, Bob Lacy and Skip Gregory were tinkering with a series of circuits laid out on large table.
    Bob Lacy or “Little Bobby” as he used to be called when he delivered pizzas in old Kittletown held the circuit board turning it over in his hand.
    “So this is your miracle card?” he said smiling to Jim, who returned a smile and a nod.
    Back in the day, Bob was obsessed with Barbara Mayer. Not a day went by that he didn’t dream about tickling her just short of insanity. Barbara, still a very good-looking woman, was a stunner back then. Dark hair and crystal blue eyes, hair just below her shoulders, statuesque and classy. She had flawlessly smooth skin which was insanely ticklish everywhere.
    “How’s your wife, Jim. I mean, how’s the Mayor?”
    Jim knew how obsessed Little Bobby was over his wife but he had accepted it as part of that current society.
    “Previous mayor,” Jim corrected. “And she’s fine.”
    “I don’t mean any disrespect.”
    “None taken. Get me another soldiering gun, Skip. Will you please?” Jim said tossing down the old one that had frayed wires along the handle. “I’m gonna fry myself if I keep using this one.”
    “You got it,” Skip said walking down the long hall, past a few locked doors until he turned into an unlocked room and switched on the lights. Across the long wall was a pegboard with an array of tools. He opened a few of the metal drawers of the wall-length work table until he found a soldiering gun.
    Before turning out the light, he looked back into the room and gazed at a large object in the middle of the room, half covered by sheets. Skip walked over and grabbed the corner of the sheet and lifted it so he could admire what was under it.
    There, sitting a bit weather worn was a vintage Tickling Machine. Back in the day, all but one was destroyed by the new administration. This one, however, survived; a classic symbol of the Old Days.
    The Tickling Machine looked like a large reclining massage chair – one that you might find at a Brookstone or Sharper Image catalog. The armrests were made to hold the wrists and forearms of the victim while a hydraulic lift would raise their arms to a few preset levels: Elbows out to the sides and biceps perpendicular to the body, Arms outstretched and raised up to form a letter “Y, and another setting raising the arms fully upright.
    The lower body would be strapped down at the hips, leaving the midsection open, and the legs were strapped at several points in order to fully restrain the participant, yet leaving all the ticklish areas of the legs exposed. The feet were pulled back exposing the entire surface of the foot – top and bottom, yet not allowing any movement.
    The TM was designed by none other than Jim Mayer and funded by Dr. Gregory.
    Most importantly, the person operating the Tickling Machine sat in a comfortable chair with a console in front that would operate the machine. The pride of Jim’s invention was the series of vibrating and undulating disks that were attached to the genital area of the operator. The louder the victim would laugh, the more stimulation it would provide.

    Skip smiled. He was just a small boy when his dad, the infamous Dr. Gregory, ran that building and provided these machines for wealthy patrons. Not only did the company have TMs but they also provided the customer’s pick of beautiful girls who felt honored to work there. It was a status symbol back in the old days to be a TM Girl.
    Skip pulled out his keys. “Who the hell forgot to lock this door,” he said quietly to himself, turning his key in the lock.
    When he got back in the room, he handed Jim the soldiering gun and plugged it in.


    In the days and weeks preceding the collapse of Kittletown, the residents were nearly insane from the effects of Formula T.
    The weekly men’s club had decided to buy bottled water for their wives. Having less of the drug in their bloodstream reduced their urge to want to be tickled. The effecting result is that the men, now insane with desire to tickle and dominate, had non-consensual partners to make their sexual excitement even more satisfying.
    The women’s weekly gathering had other ideas and solutions. They hoarded the water and faked for their husbands. Meanwhile, the ladies of the Rose Club had wild, behind-closed-door tickle and sex sessions with each other.
    The tainted water was affecting the young. A small toddler, just learning to walk, hobbled up to a TV screen and ‘tickled’ the cartoon characters with his fingers.
    Shortly after Jamie and Amy left on their great campaign, and the Tickle Punks traveled around the country to promote Dr. Gregory’s Formula T, Kittletown life slowly became more and more chaotic. No one was adhering to the usual rules of society.
    One day, Reuben Maddox showed up at the Kittletown Diner and appeared at the door like a madman, eyes ablaze, scanning the room.
    The first booth had a group of women from the nearby library. They were eating there on their lunch break. Of course, as it was back then, they were dressed in typical KTown fashion: thin cotton, sleeveless dresses and sandals. Their feet always had perfectly styled toenails, polished in deep burgundy; the favorite color of the Salon owned by Trina.
    Usually, a resident would approach a group of ladies in the booth and engage in polite conversation before innocently tickling them. Rueben practically pounced on these unsuspecting women, grabbing their ribs and tickling them furiously while they screamed and twisted, frantically attempting to escape. One woman slipped past him heading for the door. Instead, she was tackled to the ground, her sandal flying into the air as he gripped her ankle and savagely scratched the sole of her foot making her scream, pounding the floor and begging for release.
    Within minutes, he was grabbed by Sid and a few of the waitresses and pulled off the frenzied women. Attempting to twist free, he jabbed his fingers quickly into the armpits of one waitress, making her shriek, loosening her grip. He then, grabbed the buttons of the other’s uniform and, pulling it apart – buttons flying – he ruthlessly tickled her now exposed belly causing the waitress to squeal and squirm away. As she laughed and stepped out of reach, she noticed the large bulge in his pants.
    Finally, it was Sid alone who wrestled him to the ground.
    “You okay, Bud?” Sid asked knowing full well that Rueben was anything but okay.

    Allison Ritchie, who owned the bookstore sat at her desk going over her bookkeeping when three young men entered.
    She hadn’t noticed that one of the men directed the lone customer to leave the store. She also hadn’t noticed him locking the door and pulling down the blinds.
    “Can I help you?” she said startled as she turned to face the men who were now staring her up and down with lust in their eyes.
    Her attempts to scream were muffled by the one who suddenly appeared behind her, grabbing her and forcing a hand over her mouth. Struggling she was unable to prevent the handkerchief from being wrapped around her mouth and tied at the back of her head.
    All she could do was utter muffled cries and she was laid down on the rug and pinned. He shoes were slowly removed and her bare arms were pulled tightly over her head.
    Begging through muffled screams, her sleeveless shirt was unbuttoned exposing her naked torso as well as the smooth skin of her armpits.
    The man who had locked the door straddled her thin body and placed his fingers on the bare skin of her underarms. Barely touching her, like a person who is testing the temperature of still water, he gently tapped the sensitive skin. Allison Ritchie’s screams were heard through the handkerchief as a sputtering release of laughter broke through. The result being like an aphrodisiac to the ticklers, driven with a helpless desire to tickle torture this pretty woman, fueled by Formula.
    His lightly touching and tapping fingers stopped as he began a horse-like gallop on her insanely ticklish armpit skin. She tried to twist away. She tried to pull down her arms but to no avail. There was no way she could escape this maddening underarm torture.
    He head swung from side to side as eruptions of hysterical laughter strained to break through the handkerchief gag
    The man holding her ankles wrapped his legs around her knees. Wrestling and fighting the feet that were wildly shaking, he managed to pull off her shoes and place his nose against the mildly damp balls of her feet. With his face pushed against her toes, he reached his fingers up and raked them along the underside of her toes and down through the horribly ticklish soles.
    Allison’s scream rose to greater heights and the pitch of her laughter also rose higher. She was desperately ticklish and fought like a wildcat but was hardly able to move as the two men, in a sexual frenzy, hypnotically and methodically tickled and tickled the helpless woman.
    Just then, the third man, unable to keep his fingers away from this ticklish victim, bent down and reached both hands around to the sides of her waist and tickled and probed the soft sensitive skin.
    Another high-pitched scream emerged as Allison shook her head frantically, eyes squeezed shut. The action loosened her gag and the full range of her screaming and squealing laughter filled the room.
    The men laughed and nodded in approval because this new action only aroused them more. The first man tickled her armpits furiously, stroking quickly up her inner arms to the palms of her gripping hands and down again. The movement felt like an increasing surge of ticklishness the closer it got to her armpits.
    The man at her feet alternated between softly stroking the center of her soles, with a gentle biting of her toes, thrusting his tongue between those toes, and then, raking his fingernails up and down, up and down.
    “Please! PLEASE!” the poor woman begged between deafening and unrestrained laughter. This was all she could manage as she screamed, laughed, coughed, hiccupped and laughed even louder.
    Additionally, the man tickling her sides scurried his fingers quickly from her belly button up the front of her belly only to separate them and walk them quickly up the ticklish ridges of her protruding ribs. He probed that ticklish ribcage from the top to the bottom and back again.
    The men hooted and howled like wolves as their fingers seemed tireless in their savage tickle torture of the young bookstore owner.
    The last thing Allison remembered before her vision faded and she lost consciousness, was the looks on their faces and their Reefer Madness-like sneers.


    Jim and Booby went home for dinner but Skip decided to stay a little long.
    “I’ll lock up when I finish hee,” he said, bidding them good-bye.
    He walked down that long hallway and turned to a door on his left. Pulling out a clattering mass of keys, he flipped a few over before finding the one that went into the lock.
    It was his dad’s old office, a little dusty and a little unkempt. He walked directly to the large swivel chair behind the desk and the cloud of dust made him sneeze. The desk had several drawers on either side. Skip grabbed his keys and found the small one that unlocked one of the drawers. In it were about two dozen small vials of clear liquid. He lifted up one of the vials and brought it to eye level, peering in as if he was trying to see something moving within.
    With his other hand, he opened the center drawer and shuffled through a few pens and mechanical pencils until he found an eye dropper.
    On the floor to his right were several cases of bottled water. Putting down the eye dropper, he picked up one of the bottles and twisted off the cap, still holding the vial in his hand. He placed the bottle in front of him and carefully lifted the dropper and unscrewed one of the vials. He removed only a few drops before screwing it back on and returning it to the drawer. Then, he squeezed the drops into the water bottle, recapped it, and shook it rapidly.
    Just then, his cellphone buzzed. He looked at who was calling. It was Jim.
    “Hey,” he said. “What’s up?”
    “You doing anything tonight?” Jim asked.
    “Um, not really.” He looked at his water bottle.
    “Barb made enough food for all of us but Jason has to work. Wanna come over for dinner?”
    Skip thought about Jim’s lovely wife, Barbara, but he had always had a serious crush on Jamie, always keeping his distance because of his dad’s association with her father. He was elated to find that she had returned from LA and was staying in town.
    “I’d love to come over for dinner,” Skip said, giving the bottle a little shake as he disconnected.


    Miss Sherman was locking the doors of the school one day. She left the building, but not before peeking her head out of the door and looking around the parking lot.
    Kittletown was getting dangerous for a woman walking alone in a secluded area. All the cars were gone and she had only stayed to finish grading some papers.
    Cindy Sherman was a lovely, fair-skinned woman with pretty blue eyes and long wavy hair, which reached halfway down her back when it wasn’t tied up into a bun. When Buddy first started school, having just landed in Kittletown, he was obsessed with his pretty teacher. For that matter, every guy, and even some of the women, had crushes on this tiny teacher.
    Walking alone these days made her feel weak and vulnerable. Friends had urged her to take the weekend jiu-jitsu classes that they joined but Cindy’s reply was always, “I think I can handle the kids in my 8th grade class.”
    Cindy Sherman was a traditional woman, raised in a strict Catholic household. She dressed modestly even with the Kittletown dress codes. That day, she was wearing a classic sleeveless shift dress with a peter pan collar, stockings and open-toed shoes. Her look would have fit right in if she had suddenly been whisked into the 1960s.
    As she approached her old Saturn, she was startled by a crunching sound behind her. Quickly turning her head, she was relieved to see a large bird pecking at the dirt about 20 yards away.
    However, when she turned back she gasped at the two figures in front of her.
    “Hello Miss Sherman. Nice day, isn’t it?”
    The frightened teacher looked down at the ground avoiding their gaze.
    If I don’t see it, it doesn’t exist.
    “That’s a real pretty dress you’re wearing,” said the other.
    Standing in front of her was Patti McGee and her older sister Kate.
    “How’s life, Miss Sherman?” Patti said with a sneer. Her dark brown hair and heavy black eyeliner gave her face a sinister appearance.
    “Fine,” said Miss Sherman shyly, trying to edge her way to her car.
    “Mine has been just wonderful since you had me kicked out of school,” Patti said.
    “Yeah, Cindy,” said her older sister, also gothed out and tatted up. “that was a pretty fucked up thing you did.”
    “I didn’t want to do that, Patricia but you were…”
    “Shh,” Pattie said placing her finger lightly, almost tenderly on her teacher’s lips.
    Inside the girls, Formula was surging through their bloodstream. It affected people in many different ways. Those that were prone to violence became more daring and their tickle attacks less restrained.
    “I think you need to be taught a lesson, Miss Sherman,” said Patti as the two girls moved closer to the frightened teacher. “You’ve been way too…Catholic lately.”
    This made the girls laugh.
    “That’s lame,” Kate said.
    “I know.”
    Suddenly and unexpectedly, Kate took a strong hold of the teacher’s wrist and easily lifted Cindy’s hand over her head. Her skin, so fair and soft, was especially sensitive under the arm, and it was so easily accessible with her sleeveless dress.
    “Let’s see,” said Kate as she lifted a finger and pointed it to Miss Sherman’s now exposed armpit. “Are you ticklish here?”
    Miss Sherman pulled at her wrist and shook her head.
    “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” she said. “It was the principal, not me….”.
    “Not good enough Cindeee,” said Patti as she took hold of her ex-teacher’s other wrist and lifted her arm up with a yank.
    “Oh Goodness!” Miss Sherman said startled at the violence of the action.
    “Does this tickle?” Kate said, inserting her finger into the smooth hollow of Cindy’s armpit, tickling her with gentle strokes.
    Miss Sherman looked away, embarrassed by her sensitivity and tried to hold in her giggles. However, when Patti wiggled her five fingernails into the other ticklish hollow, the teacher gave off a shriek and exploded into helpless laughter.
    “You feeling that drug sensitizing your bare armpit skin, Miss Sherman?” Patti said.
    Well,” said Kate reaching into her back pocket and pulling out a homemade syringe. “If it’s not, let me help you out!”
    With that, the older sister plunged the needle point into Cindy Sherman’s buttocks right through the soft, cotton fabric of her dress.”
    Instantly, the teacher felt a shock like a bee sting followed by a surge of electricity that seemed to rise from her toes, between her legs and up her belly to the armpits, which were now being tickled furiously by the two girls.
    “Ticklish now, Miss Sherman? Are my fingers driving you insane?”
    Formula T was devastating her nervous system. The tickling in her armpits was too much. Too much! She screamed and tugged at the girls desperate to escape this horrible sensation of tickling under her arms.
    “That’s such a pretty dress you’re wearing,” the teacher heard through her tickle agony, laughing and scream and tugging for escape. “Just perfect for being tickled.”
    Finally, Miss Sherman was able to break free and took off running in the direction away from her car, towards the baseball field.
    The girls ran after her calling her name, mocking her.
    “Oh Cindeee! Time for your tickles. Time for your punishment.”
    Although it had been years since Patti was expelled from school, she had never forgotten her resentment. The more Formula T was ingested daily, the more her brain could not let go of her desire for retribution.
    Miss Sherman was easily caught and thrown to the grass. In a flash, Patti straddled her and Kate held her ankles together under her arm.
    “Pretty good move,eh?” Pattie said. “Been taking jiu-jitsu classes on weekends.”
    The older sister ripped off the shoes and scratched rapidly at the soles of Miss Sherman’s stocking-covered feet. The tiny teacher wailed and her body arched almost throwing Patti off.
    “Whoa girl,” Patti said, readjusting her position.
    Kate was in a drug-crazed haze as she scratched and raked Miss Sherman’s feet. The teacher screamed at the top of her lungs , begging for the girl to stop.
    “Tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle,” was the mantra growled out of Kate’s lips.
    The word “tickle” seemed to excite Patti ino her own frenzy. The drug also coursing through her body was triggered to higher intensity by that word. She reached down and grabbed Miss Sherman’s ribcage and dug in for all it was worth. Her fingers probed and scurried up and down the thin protruding ribs of the skinny teacher. Occasionally, she would stay in one place and simply poke poke poke an area of her ribs, then walk her fingers with heavy steps up to Miss Sherman’s armpits, tickling her bare, sensitive skin. She squeezed Cindy’s bare arms, probing up and down her ticklish biceps, then down into the strained hollows of her ticklish armpits.
    Kate, in her own rage of madness and unsatisfied desire, ripped at Cindy’s stockings, tearing them and pulling them aside exposing the soft sensitive areas of Miss Sherman’s bare feet.
    “Tickle tickle tickle,” she continued as her long fingernails raked up and down the bottoms of the feet, clawing at the base of the toes and wiggling her fingers lightly on the tops of the toes.
    Miss Sherman screamed and laughed like she had never laughed before. She didn’t want to laugh. She wanted to just scream for help, but the tickling and the drug was preventing her from doing anything else but laugh and laugh.
    “You feeling it yet, Miss Sherman?” Patti said as she continued tickling up and down her sides, across her torso, into her bellybutton and pinching her waist.
    Through a fog of sensation, Cindy could barely hear the question as she laughed. However, she suddenly felt an electrical rush up her inner thighs which exploded on her clitoris.
    “Yes, Kate,” Patti said smiling. “I believe she’s starting to feel it.”
    The girls amped up their tickling intensity. Miss Sherman alternated between laughing and moaning loudly. The moaning sounds grew higher and higher in pitch as did the laughter, which was beginning to sound simply like a stream of giggles.
    Patti lifted her right hand off of Miss Sherman’s belly and slid it down between her legs, pulling up the skirt hem so she could slip her hand beneath.
    “Oh…My…God!” Miss Sherman shrieked.
    Like the final crescendo of A Day In The Life, her sensations bounced between her soles, her sides and her armpits only to dive deep down between her legs.
    The orgasm rushed and electrocuted the fragile woman. She bucked and lifted her hips up practically throwing Patti once again.
    The girls stopped tickling, feeling their own orgasm surging.
    “Oh sweet Jesus, “ Kate said rolling onto her back.
    Soon, all three lay on the grass panting quietly.
    Patti was the first to get up, then Kate. The girls looked down at their teacher, now breathing deeply in sweaty disarray.
    “We’ll be back,” Patti said as she hung on her older sister while the two walked away leaving Cindy Sherman in a drug induced stupor; every nerve ending in her body firing.
    Last edited by MaxSpeer; 06-18-2020 at 09:32 PM.
    “It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything.”
    ― Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club

  2. #2
    He's back !!! Great start my friend, I can't wait to read the next chapter !! LONG LIVE KITTLE TOWN !

  3. #3
    Join Date
    Jan 2002
    NY City
    Blog Entries
    It's great that you have revived Kittletown, Max!
    <== the sacred soles of Goddess Shelly

    A link to my stories on the TMF.

    Buy my first novel "Sorority Sisters" here.

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    Order Today!

    עם ישראל חי
    אֶרֶץ יִשְׂרָאֵל חי

  4. #4
    Join Date
    Apr 2001
    San Diego, CA

    Skip arrived a half-hour later after a quick shower and change. Little Alice met him at the door with a, “Hi Uncle Skip.” Smiling, he picked her up and gave her a loving hug before carrying her into the kitchen where he heard the clattering of pots and pans.
    “Look what I found,” Skip said, handing over Alice to Barbara who reached for her grand daughter with a loving smile.
    “Hi Jamie,” he said, but she did not hear him. She was busy washing out some dishes.
    “I said, ‘Hellooo Jamie!’” Skip repeated, only this time poking her side.
    “Eek!” Jamie shrieked dropping her sponge. “Don’t surprise me like that!”
    “Still ticklish as ever I see,” he said.
    “I don’t think that goes away,” Barbara said still holding Alice as the little one played with her hair. “My daughter is still quite ticklish, aren’t ya?”
    Barbara reached over to pinch Jamie’s waist causing her daughter to hop around and giggling. “Aren’t ya? Aren’t ya?”
    “Stop it! Cut it out!”
    Jamie swung around to face her attackers with her wet, rubber-gloved hands in front of her as a shield.
    Skip took the opportunity by poking his index finger up into Jamie’s smooth armpit and tickled. The helpless blond squealed and whipped around to get that tickling finger out of her bare, unprotected armpit. She was still laughing as she hopped away and out of the kitchen.
    “You guys,” she said from a good distance away. “I can’t take tickling anymore. I’m too sensitive.”
    “I know what she means,” Barbara said, letting down Alice who ran to hug her mother. “Ever since, well, back then, I can hardly take being tickled. When Jim tickles me – which he does quite often – I go ballistic.”
    Just then, Jim walked into the room and stood behind Barbara who tensed up expecting an attack.
    “Is Barb complaining again?” He said. “Oh, Hi Skip.”
    Then he reached around and tickled Barbara’s belly making her screech and giggle while bending over and squirming against him.
    “Ooh,” he said. “I like that!”
    His wife swung around and slapped his chest giggling as she walked toward the dishes. Picking them up, she handed a few to little Alice and said, “Will you set the table please, sweetheart?”
    Skip was quite aroused by all this tickling around him. It had been a long time since he saw such an outward display. He lived alone and had so little friends since the events where his dad was taken down.
    Watching Barbara tickled by Jim was highly exciting and, as he looked into the dining room and watched Jamie setting the table with her daughter, he reached into his backpack and felt the water bottle.


    “We’re really lost,” said Jen looking at Nicole in the passenger seat of their minivan.
    They wanted to get away on a mother/daughter trip but ended up lost more often than not.
    “No! Really?” Nicole said to her mom with obvious sarcasm.
    “It’s not my fault you can’t read a map for shit,” Jen said with sweet sarcasm.
    “You wait,” said Nicole spinning her gum on her index finger and putting her bare feet out of the window. “One day they’ll invent a devise that will be in every car that tells you exactly where you are.”
    “Oh please. Dream on. They tried car phones and they suck. Next thing you’ll say is that they’ll build a tracking system in those car phones so you can call and ask for directions wherever you are.”
    Just then Nicole sat up and looked out into the distance.
    “Is that a town up ahead?”
    “I really hope so,” said her mother. “I’m starving.”
    Jen drove past the Welcome to Kittletown sign as Nicole giggled and turned to her mom.
    “Kittletown? That’s a really funny name. What’s a ‘kittle’? Is it like a Skittle? Are the streets paved in Skittles?”
    The minivan drove down main street as they searched for a diner. They noticed the people walking peacefully: pretty women and girls dressed in flowery summer dresses, and the men, also looking well-dressed staring at the strangers in the car.
    “Looks harmless enough,” said Jen.
    “Yeah,” said Nicole. “Harmless as The Stepford Wives.”
    Nicole noticed the Kittletown Diner sign and pointed out of the window for her mom.
    “There! There! Pull into the parking lot.”
    After parking, the women walked out into the hot Florida sun and through the metal and glass doors of the diner. Music was playing on the jukebox and there were a few people eating in the booths. When the women stood at the entrance they received instant stares and heard hushed conversations.
    “What kind of cult town is this?” Nicole whispered to her mom.
    “Quiet. It’s like any small town. They probably never see strangers here.”
    A smiling overweight man approached the women with two menus.
    “Hello ladies,” said Sid. “We never get to see strangers round here. Two?”
    “Yes,” Jen said returning a smile. Nicole just huddled close to her mother and said nothing.
    When they got to their booth they continued to hear the normal diner conversations turned to hushed voices.
    “Look at the way the women are dressed. I feel like a slut in a halter top,” said Nicole.
    “You look gorgeous,” said Jen. “You’re dressed perfectly for Florida.”
    “I wanted to go to Fort Lauderdale for spring break. You wanted a mother/daughter road trip. I was pulling a 3.5 all semester and I deserve to be partying in my two-piece while good-looking dudes gawk at me,” whispered Nicole.
    “Can I get you girls something to drink?”
    Jen and Nicole looked up to see a very pretty waitress with long, blond hair that flowed in waves down her back. Her uniform was a sleeveless pinafore dress, making her look like she was right out of a Country Living catalogue.
    “My name is Jamie and I’ll be your waitress.”
    Looking over Jamie’s shoulder, standing in a doorway, Sid was on the wall phone looking back at the two strangers.
    “Well aren’t you adorable,” Jen said. “How old are you sugar?”
    “Eighteen,” Jamie said. “And thanks. I don’t get many compliments from strangers ‘round here. Everybody knows everybody.”
    “You’re the same age as my daughter Nicole. I’m her mother in case you thought we were sisters.”
    The two women had a better than average lunch and decided that they would have a look around the town. Nicole agreed to do this if her mom promised they’d be on the road within the hour.
    “This town freaks me out,” Nicole said. “It’s just too…nice.”
    The two walked a short distance before getting to a building where a young man stood smiling, then approached.
    “You’re not from around here,” he said.
    “Is it that obvious?” said Nicole without smiling back.
    “If you’d like to come in here, I would be happy to give you a look at some of the local artwork.”
    Jen agreed happily and pulled in her reluctant daughter, following close behind the friendly young man.
    “You two look like you can use some water,” he said. “This Florida heat will zap the energy right out of you.”

    The two women woke up in a haze. The first thing they noticed was their inability to move even an inch in any direction. Their wrists were firmly locked down on the arms of what seemed to be a lounge chair. Their feet, shoes now removed, were also unable to move, and secured at the bottom.
    They didn’t speak for a minute since the drug that had knocked them out was slow to wear off. The first thing they did was attempt to move but found this impossible.
    “Hello???” Jen was the first to shout out.
    “Mom! Mom!” was all Nicole to say as tears began to fill up and run down her cheeks.
    No answer came from the darkness. There were spotlights on the two that prevented them from seeing beyond.
    Suddenly, they heard a quiet hum from the seats and felt their feet moving up and out in front of them. It was then they realized that the legs were not connected to the same platform. They rested on two individual slabs that held not only their ankles, but also their thighs firmly.
    The women began to sob and call out into the darkness as their feet moved upward and stopped parallel to the floor. Then, they felt their arms being lifted up and up until they formed a “Y”. Wearing sleeveless clothing made them feel very vulnerable because the thin cotton material was the only barrier to their nakedness.
    “Mom what is this!?” Nicole called out in a panic. She tried to resist her arms being raised but the hydraulic mechanism was too powerful.
    Jen squinted against the strong spotlights and could barely see two figures also sitting in lounge chairs. They seemed to have a panel in front of them and some sort of device on their laps.
    What happened next was what her mother and Nicole will relate years later as nothing short of Sci Fi torture.
    Additional whirring sounds were heard from Nicole’s chair while spinning disks speckled with tiny feather tipped nipples spun slowing closer and closer to the nakedness of her outstretched armpits.
    As the spinning got closer to her armpits Nicole wondered if they meant to torture her and that the objects were going to cause intense pain. She stiffened up every muscle in anticipation.
    Instead, what happened was the spinning disks got close enough for only the feather tips to graze her soft, sensitive skin. The initial shock made Nicole jump and her whole body reacted to this extreme stimulation on two very ticklish spots.
    Nicole had been tickled before on her armpits but never like this. There was a guy in her school named Trey that she dated briefly. One time, he playfully pushed her on her bed and she fell backwards onto a stack of pillows. When she landed her arms were flung over her head and her back was arched so her ribs were protruding.
    Trey smiled a broad smile as he pounced on the girl, held tightly on her wrists and, as he laid his body on top of her, began tickling her exposed armpits.
    Nicole was a mess. She screamed, squealed, bargained and pleaded for release. She had never known how ticklish armpits could get in that situation and Trey had her pinned real good as his fingers, wiggling like spider legs, tickled and grazed over the smooth skin of her armpits, up and down her inner arms and then through her armpits down to her upper ribs. As he tickled, she realized he was dry-humping her.
    Nicole never forgot that incident, nor how upset he was when she broke up with him a few minutes later. She told her friends about it and confessed that she never realized how helplessly ticklish she was under her arms.
    Now, strapped tightly to this chair, arms up and armpits exposed, she was now helplessly subjected to pure armpit tickling focus.
    The sensations were torturously intense. She screamed as loud as she could, not only from the horrible tickling on her exposed armpit skin but also from the hopelessness of the situation and the feeling of being so violated.
    As she screamed and laughed in spite of her fears, she heard the sound of men moaning in the darkness in front of her and it horrified her. They were enjoying, even worse getting off on her agony.
    Meanwhile, the rotating disks moved up from the floor and hovered close to Jen’s naked soles. After seeing how her poor daughter was tickled into hysterical panic, she simply started bargaining and pleading for them to stop their madness.
    “I’ll do ANYTHING if you stop this!” she pleaded. “Whatever you want. I’ll phone my husband and he’ll wire some money but PLEASE don’t tickle my feet. Not my feet. ANYTHING but my feet!”
    Jen was shocked to hear a quiet chuckle coming from the darkness. The rotating feathers of torture were getting closer to her exposed soles. These were designed slightly different – stiffer than the ones torturing Nicole’s armpits. Pointed quills flicked around and around as they got closer to her feet.
    Jen instinctively curled her toes as if her long, thin toes could possibly reach down and protect any part of her foot bottoms. She was sobbing in the anticipation until they made contact.
    Instantly her sobs turned to uncontrollable laughter. The tears previous shed from fear was replaced. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her mouth open in a soundless scream. The disks whipped around hooking into the long stems of her toes and across the ticklish balls of her feet. Longer quills flicked down through and across the incredibly ticklish skin of her bare soles.
    Again, like her daughter, memories of past ticklings flooded her like a reoccurring nightmare: the boy down the street that had her ankles in a wrestling lock, her older sister, who sat on her knees to tickle and tickle her younger sister’s feet until she cried. Even her dad’s friend who visited one time. She had just turned 18 and she was sitting on the couch with her feet up. Her dad’s friend sat next to her and, before she realized it, he was tickling her bare feet. She kicked and told him to stop it. “Don’t,” she said not very happy with this stranger’s action, “Don’t tickle my feet. I’m very ticklish there and I don’t like it.” He didn’t stop however. He had a tickling fetish and could never resist a pair of pretty feet when they were within reach.
    He grabbed her ankle and held it tightly while he scratched the skin of her ticklish bare sole. The girl screamed and kicked and laughed into hysterics while her foot was torturously assaulted with quick flicking tickles.
    When he dad came back into the room all he said was, “Leave the poor girl alone. She’s a wimp when it comes to being tickled.”
    When Jen could catch her breath, her laughter poured out of her freely. She tensed up her face and clenched her hands, drawing up her shoulders. This was different than simply trying to take some tickling she would have endured from a family member or old boyfriend. This was a mechanical instrument tickling her; one without a conscience or motive. You can’t reason with a soulless thing. All it knew how to do was tickle and tickle and TICKLE whomever it was programed; and as furiously as possible.
    Nicole’s savage armpit tickling continued but new probes rose out of the sides of the chair and ‘walked’ up each rib, applying just enough pressure to signal the tickle response. This additional action completely fucked up her brain. She was finding the armpit tickling torture, however, she was dealing with it by deep breathing and screaming. With the addition of the rib tickling, and its unpredictable nature, it short-circuited her defense and the rib and armpit tickling just created chaos on the young co-ed’s body. She was absolutely squealing in hysterics.
    The women were again horrified at the moans that issued from the darkness every time they added new tickling stimuli.
    For Nicole it was ribs and armpits. For Jen, her entire legs including thighs and knees and under her knees were constantly assaulted by the rotating quills of torture.
    “I c-can’t take it!” she cried as she laughed and screamed. “I can’t t-take it anymore! Please! I beg of you! Have mercy!”


    During dinner, Skip was nervous. He volunteered to get the drinks for everyone so he could pour a dose of Formula T into Barbara and Jamie’s water glasses. It wasn’t a strong enough dose to get them high. Barbara had been the recipient of a syringe full of full dose the time Claude had interrogated her so long ago. The fact was, everyone in town was convinced that every drop of Formula was taken out to the Gulf of Mexico and disposed of.
    Skip not only had several concentrated doses saved, but the ingredients in Dr. Gregory’s notes were in a safe. He just needed a chemist to figure it all out.
    Alice reached for some bread and accidently spilled her glass. Jamie jerked out of the way as the water poured onto her lap.
    “I’m sorry mommy,” Alice said.
    “It’s okay,” said Jamie wiping her dress down with a cloth napkin. “I just didn’t figure on a shower in my dress tonight.”
    “I have some of your old clothes here,” said Barbara. “I’m sure they’ll still fit. I hate you for that.” The girls laughed as Jamie picked up her water glass to drink.
    Skip stared at her; so lovely, with full lips against the glass. He knew that the formula would start to work on her hot body pretty soon and that’s when he will get her alone and tickle her to his heart’s content.
    “Can I have some water?” Alice said reaching for her mother’s glass and taking it from her hand. “I spilled mine.”
    Jamie stoped drinking and handed the glass to Alice.
    Skip stared at this in horror but was too frozen to act.


    It was during that period of time when Jamie the Waitress had waited on Jen and Nicole, that she was also Jamie the Freedom Fighter.
    Not too long after that day, she and Amy took off for California, settled briefly in San Diego and starting to see the effects that Formula was having across the country.
    Meanwhile, Sandra and Pam, along with Dr. Gregory started making appearances on TV to promote this new tickling thing. The reaction was ice cold and they were starting to look like a joke. No one took her seriously but one thing was clear; People were very attracted to the sexy, red-haired spokesperson.
    Dr. Gregory, along with his sidekick, Claude, returned to Kittletown while Sandra and Pam agreed to try and find the girls and bring them home.
    Good fortunate hit when Jamie and Amy, staying in a hostile in Ocean Beach saw the two women on an exploitation reality show.
    “Pam is my aunt. No way will she turn us in,” said Jamie as she made some calls on the nearby phone and found out that Sandra and Jamie had contact numbers at their hotel in Los Angeles.
    “I’m a fucking detective,” Jamie said hanging up the phone with a smile.
    Sandra and Pam, after receiving the call, rented a car and headed south.
    By the end of the day, Jamie, Amy, Sandra and Pam were all together at an outdoor café.
    “Sandra,” said Jamie. “You look… I mean, wow!”
    She did indeed. She was a staggeringly beautiful red-head, with Formula-induced sexiness. Pam also seemed so much prettier. She absolutely oozed sexuality.
    “Did Gregory’s drug do this to you?” Amy asked the women.
    “It’s doing it to everybody,” Pam answered. “You should feel it too. You drink the water.”
    “We’ve been drinking bottled water since we left home,” Jamie said.
    Pam and Sandra exchanged glances.
    “But you’re still showering I suppose. You’re still washing your hair, getting water in your mouth, up your nose, in your eyes,” said Sandra.
    Jamie and Amy then related the story of how those people had attacked and tickled them on the bus. They commented on how much more it seemed to tickle than ever before. They felt absolutely helpless once those fingers touched their sensitive bodies.
    Just then, a waiter walked by and, as he did it, he let his fingers brush across the bare shoulders of Pam and Sandra. The two women lifted their shoulders and giggled, looking up at the man.
    “That would never have happened a year ago,” said Pam to the girls.
    Meanwhile, the giggling had raised the curiosity of a couple of tables sitting nearby. Each table sat a man and a woman. By their plates stood empty water glasses.
    The woman at the closer table stood up first. She was staring at the 4 girls and licking her lips. The woman at the other table saw this and decided to join her, followed by the men.
    “Oh no,” said Pam. “Looks like trouble.”
    Jamie and Amy had their backs to the approaching people. When they heard this, they looked behind them and their mouths opened in a gasp.
    To their shock and surprise, the men and women all started running their fingers up and down the naked arms of Jamie and Amy who squirmed and giggled at the sudden ticklish touch.
    “Hey!” said Amy giggling. “Stop it! Cut it out!”
    The four strangers continued a light pitter pattering touch on the ticklish arms of the girls while Sandra and Pam smiled and slowly brought their hands down between their legs to rub the increasing ticklishness there.
    One of the men took hold of Jamie’s bare arms and pulled her arms up a little. Jamie resisted so they could only be lifted several inches. She wouldn’t let go of control and let them lift her arms all the way.
    Satisfied and delighted that there was room now for her fingers, one woman slipped the three fingers of each hand up into the now hollowed armpits and began tickling with gentle strokes.
    Jamie’s body shot up and lifted out of her chair as she suddenly squealed in helpless giggles, twisting her body back and forth violently to remove those agonizingly ticklish invaders. Her head was tossed back whipping large tufts of blond hair and she simply let out a loud howl of laughter as the fingers relentlessly tickled and tickled the teenager’s smooth and sensitive armpits.
    Meanwhile, Amy’s ticklers started lifting her arms as well, but Amy flew out of her chair to face her ticklers.
    “Now stop! This isn’t right,” she said. “We’re on the “Outside”. This kind of thing shouldn’t happen.
    “Oh but it IS happening,” Sandra said rubbing herself quicker and giggling.
    “Do you know these people?” Amy asked backing up.
    “No,” said Sandra. “But I know what they’ve been drinking.”
    Jamie’s female tickler reached down and clawed her nails into Jamie’s ribcage making the poor girl squeal with laughter and shake her body. Her top lifted up baring her vulnerable belly and bellybutton and the woman gently began tickling this soft and ticklish area. Jamie was now getting hysterical and feeling weak to resist.
    Amy backed away with her hands up as a shield. The man took advantage by grabbing her wrists and whipping her around until Amy was in a bearhug. He manipulated his hands and put her into a full nelson. This only served to lift her arms up into the air and give the woman perfect opportunity to begin a savage tickling on Amy’s exposed sides.
    Oddly, no one working the restaurant did a thing to help the two girls. They watched from a short distance. Even the cooks came out, towels draped over their shoulders, to watch the young girls being savagely tickle attacked.
    The waiter walked over and sat next to Sandra and Pam.
    “You’re the two women I saw on TV,” he said.
    The two nodded and smiled.
    “I worship you. You two are goddesses! I would give anything to tickle you girls.”
    Pam and Sandra looked at each other and burst out giggling. Then, Sandra kicked off her sandal and placed her bare foot on the waiter’s lap, already aroused by all the tickling an the presence of his sexual fantasy girls.
    “Tickle me,” Sandra said with a smile and a wink.
    The waiter didn’t hesitate. He used both his hands, fingers wiggling, to tickle and stroke the extremely sensitive soles of Sandra’s perfectly ticklish feet. All the while, he was pushing her heel down on his erection.
    The beautiful redhead threw her head back, eyes squeezed tight, and let out a beautiful musical melody of laughter. She hunched her bare shoulders to her ears and gripped the arms of the chair
    “Oh my God,” she said. “That tickles! That tickles!”
    “You’re a great tickler,” Pam breathlessly said as she rubbed herself faster. The entire tableau of tickling activity was stimulating her to a fever pitch.
    The woman facing Amy was furiously running her tickling fingers all over Amy’s midsection causing the young girl to screech and scream and squeal with laughter.
    “No no NO! Please stop!.” She begged when she could catch her breath.
    “Tickle her! TICKLE HER!” The men chanted as if in a hypnotic trance.
    The waiter’s flicking and raking of Sandra’s feet, coupled with his pushing and grinding took him into a sexual frenzy that he had never experienced previously. His entire world was focused on two beautiful, soft and impeccably pampered feet. It was arguably the most sexually arousing moment of his life.
    Pam threw her head back and climaxed. Just as the sensations began to ebb, she felt hands suddenly tickling her ribs and her armpits. The sensations were almost too intense to take and she screamed and leapt from the chair laughing and, at the same time, squeezing her arms tightly against her sides. As one man and one woman hopped around and around her poking, prodding and tickling her torso, she looked over and saw one of the women bending down at the giggling Sandra and begin kissing her passionately on the mouth. The woman reached her hand down the front of Sandra’s low-cut dress to caress her breasts but, instead, began tickling them. Sandra’s laughing got more violent and she thrashed, pulled at her foot being held firmly by the now climaxing waiter, and twisted in her seat.
    By now, Amy was on the ground and the man and the woman held her arms over her head and pinned down her ankles. This was enough to bring in the waitstaff and the two cooks who pounced on the young girl, fingers wiggling, tickling every inch of her ticklish body. Fingers scurried along her belly and up her sides. Fingers planted themselves on the bare skin of her underarms and ‘galloped’ them in place. Other fingers tickled up and down the inside of her bare legs while others flicked and scratched at her soft, bare feet.
    Amy screamed in laughter and tried to free herself but was pinned firmly. She was an absolute mess of squeals and squirms.
    All the while, the ticklers were chanting a chorus of things like, “Tickle tickle. Does this tickle? Am I tickling you? Are you ticklish?” teasing her and making it so much more difficult to defend her onslaught.
    Sandra broke away her kiss as the woman continued caressing her breasts. She looked around her at the chaos and felt proud that she had something to do with this.
    “Dr. Gregory will be proud,” she thought. He’ll be even happier when I bring home these girls and they’ll get the torture they deserve.”


    “I’ll get it!” Skip shouted as he stood up and grabbed Jamie’s glass just as Alice reached for it.
    “Wow!” was a collected comment from the table.
    “It’s the Flash,” Jim said chuckling, yet giving Skip a puzzled look as if to say “What are you up to?”
    With a rapid heartbeat, Skip stood by the kitchen sink trying to compose himself.
    He was filled with a mix of fear and guilt.
    ‘What am I doing?” he thought.
    Then he looked into the dining room and stared at Jamie. Looking just as gorgeous as she looked so many years ago when his crush on her hooked his heart. Her hair, although not as long as when she was 18, was still vibrantly blond with soft curls. Her blue eyes sparkled in the dining room candlelight. The skin of her arms, still soft as a baby, framed lovelyin her sleeveless sundress. He wanted her so badly. He wanted to hold her on her back and tickle his fingers up the delicate ridges of her ribs and watch her scream in laughter as his fingers touched her sensitive underarms.
    Sadly, she had barely a sip from her water glass.
    Barbara, however had emptied hers. Looking over at Skip in the kitchen, she lifted her empty glass and called out to him.
    “Skip! Can you be a sweetheart and refill my water. Please!”
    He walked quickly into the dining room, heart still beating and took Barbara’s empty glass. As he did, she reached a finger up and touched his hand as he took it from her. When he looked up at her she gave him a very sexy smile.
    “Holy shit,” he thought. “She’s high on Formula right now and the girl of my dreams is sober.”
    He thought about refilling hers with untainted water, but at the last minute, filled hers with Formula.
    When he returned with two glasses he froze for a second trying to remember which was Alice’s glass and which was Barbara’s.
    Skip was beginning to mentally unravel.


    “Wow!” said Sandra as the four girls ran down the street toward the beach. Pam and Sandra were giggling like school girls as opposed to Amy and Jamie who were still trying to catch their breath after that tickling torture.
    “That was IN-sane!” said Pam clutching Sandra’s arm.
    As the four passed by a group of surfer dudes, they heard catcalls and comments like, “It’s that tickle girl! She’s hot! Who are the other super hot girls? You think we should talk to them? Maybe we should just tickle them.”
    One shouted, “Hey girls! Tickle tickle tickle!”
    Hearing those words chanted made the four tingle in a special place. Jamie started to giggle and then stopped herself.
    Arriving at the beach, they plopped down onto the sand. Jamie and Amy lay down on their backs with their arms over their heads and let the sun bake their skin.
    Pam looked down at her sexy niece and touched her finger to Jamie’s armpit causing the girl to shriek and throw her arm down in a flash.
    “Don’t tickle me. Please!” she said with eyes closed. “I’m too sensitive right now.”
    Sandra joined the action by strumming her fingernails down the length of Amy’s bare foot, exposed now that she had kicked off her sandals.
    Amy also shrieked and the shriek became giggles.
    “Stop! Cut it out!” Haven’t I been through enough?”
    Finally, after the girls settled down a bit and were sitting up and quietly watching the rush of the Pacific Ocean waves, Jamie spoke first.
    “You know that what you’re doing is wrong. I mean, drugging everybody and making them crazy isn’t the way you change the world.”
    Sandra just looked at Pam and smiled. Pam didn’t return the smile. She thought about her sister.
    “Kittletown is so over,” Jamie continued. “It can’t keep doing what it’s doing and Dr. Gregory needs to be put in jail.”
    She looked over at Amy and said, “What do you think?”
    Amy thought for a moment and said, “I grew up in Kittletown. It’s all I know. I’m used to being made pretty and teasing the boys and getting tickled all the time by people, even strangers. I mean, you three were new to Kittletown but I grew up with being tickled my whole life. It’s just this Mad Dr. Gregory that started making it bad for everybody. I don’t mind the tickling really. It’s just the crazy people get from that drug makes them just too cray for me.”
    Just as Amy was reflecting, the surfer dudes walked up to them and stood just a few feet away.
    Surfing and volleyball takes up a lot of energy. It makes them drink healthy amounts of water. Their brains were fizzling with Formula as they looked down at the four sexy girls and licked their lips fingers wiggling at their sides.


    Skip handed the correct glass of water to little Alice who eagerly took it and downed every drop. Barbara did the same as Skip stared at her unblinking.
    This action didn’t get past Jim who knowingly took it all in. He watched his lovely wife drink the glass as if she had just run a marathon, and then looked over at the staring eyes of Skip before getting up.
    “Can I talk to you for a minute?” he said pulling Skip into the kitchen.
    Once in there and the door closed, he postured and said “Okay, what’s the deal? How did you get your hands on Formula T?”
    Skip started to deny, but quickly admitted that he had a stash of it at the office.
    “And, “Jim replied, “You were dosing my wife and my daughter?”
    “Um, yes.”
    “And you nearly dosed my little grand daughter? Do you realize what would’ve happened?”
    Skip apologized profusely and said that he hadn’t counted on the spilt glass of water. He said he just wanted to try and see if it still worked – if the strength hadn’t diminished and that he had only given them a very small amount.
    “Don’t experiment on my family,” Jim, said angrily. He was about to say something else when Barbara walked in looking like she had just smoked a few bowls of weed.
    “What on earth are you boys arguing about?” she said before lifting her arms up and placing them on either sides of the doorframe.
    Both Jim and Skip swallowed hard as they saw Barbara – the old Barbara – looking so fetching in her tight sleeveless shift dress. She had kicked off her shoes and wiggled her toes within her sheer stockings.
    Barbara closed her eyes and smiled and said softly, “Tickle me.”
    The men just stared her up and down feeling all the anger and guilt flowing away and replaced by pure lust.
    “It’s been so long since I had a good tickle,” she said. Then she lifted a finger and slid it softly down her left underarm. She lifted her left shoulder and giggled. “That tickles,” she said with a smile and looking straight through the two men.


    There was a shuffle and a fight. It was of no use. The women were pinned to the sand as a few of the men quickly dug around them. Within a few minutes, the four had sunk deep enough to be covered by a heavy load of sand, pinning them firmly. The only thing sticking out of the sand was their upper bodies and their bare feet.
    To keep them planted firmly in the sand, four of the dudes sat on the area of the sand where their thighs would be. This left two more to move around the girls.
    “Look what we dug up?” said one.
    “A couple of ticklish sand crabs,” said another.
    “We girls are NOT crabs,” Pam said snidely.
    “She’ll be the first,” said another one.
    He knelt down in the sand with a big wide grin and wiggled his fingers closer and closer to Pam’s bare, trapped soles. The pretty blond bit her lip and tensed up in anticipation. When his fingers made contact, barely enough to call it real contact, Pam threw back her head and then stared at the tickler giggling.
    “That tickles,” she said flashing the prettiest smile.
    The words only enticed him further. He moved his fingers forward until all ten were in contact with the ticklish soles of her sensitive feet.
    Pam burst into laughter and tried to pull her feet away but the one dude was sitting in a way that really had her pinned.
    “Ticklish here?’ he said. “Tickle tickle?” His fingers moved like spider legs on her ticklish foot bottoms. Pam’s high-pitched giggling sounded like a 3-year-old girl as she shook her long locks of hair. Turning to Sandra, she said, “Make him stop Sandy!”
    “No way Pammy. This is too rich.”
    Jamie and Amy were frightened as they watch Pam tickled mercilessly on her ticklish soles by these beefy surfer dudes.
    “Stop it!” Jamie finally shouted. She didn’t want to see her aunt being tortured by strangers. They had all been through enough torture for one day.
    “Ok,” said another dude. “Then, you’re next. How old are you sweetheart?”
    Jamie didn’t answer. Maybe if they thought she and Amy were jailbait they would leave them alone.
    Jamie started to say “16” when she was interrupted.
    “She’s over 18,” Sandra said as Jamie and Amy glared at the smiling redhead.
    The dude knelt in the sand in front of the two and, placing a left hand on Jamie’s bare sole and a right hand on Amy’s, began tickling the young girls.
    Instantly, they shrieked and squirmed and began laughing their lungs out as their highly sensitive feet were tickled relentlessly. The surfer dude was driven by sheer lust brought on by a sinister drug.
    The girls didn’t want to laugh. They wanted to fight it but they were just too ticklish!
    “Please!” Jamie and Amy pleaded. Please stop. I can’t take it. It tickles! It tickles too much!”
    It did. Their longtime Formula-dosed nervous system made their bare feet even more ticklish than a normal, undosed person. It was almost too much to bear – the five wiggling fingers were furiously tickling and tickling their soft, bare feet.
    Another dude walked behind the girls and, placing a hand on each girl’s thin torso, began tickling their sensitive ribs.
    The girls squealed with laughter and twisted to and fro as the dude’s fingers wormed their way up into the baby soft hollows of their ticklish armpits, kneading a stroking the sensitive skin.
    “Not there! Please not my armpits!” Jamie pleaded. “Please! I beg you!”
    Then, he nuzzled his face into the backs of their necks and started kissing them. He was feeling the sex overtake him with his hands tickling the bodies of these two ticklish girls and feeling the control he had over them.
    Sandra watched it all with lust in her eyes. She looked up at the dude sitting on her and whispered, “Put your hand in the sand and make me feel good. I’m so fucking horny.”
    Shocked but delightedly so, the dude dug down until he found a leg. Then, he moved it around until he was able to lift the hem of her dress and touch her panty-covered sweet spot.
    “Mmm!” Sandra cooed.
    “You’re a dirty girl,” the dude said with a smile.
    “Mmm yes I am,” she answered and then gave off a sudden moan followed by a giggle.
    Last edited by MaxSpeer; 07-03-2020 at 06:35 PM.
    “It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything.”
    ― Chuck Palahniuk, Fight Club

  5. #5
    Join Date
    Sep 2008
    Since Yahoo IM is no longer feasible, I am now littlegirllaffs on Trillian.
    So, so happy to see this returning, and can't wait to see how it leads up to the new modern Meyerville!

  6. #6
    All I can say is WOW !

  7. #7
    I love the way you flashback then bring us to the present.. I can't wait to see what happens to Barbara now that she has taken a dose of Formula T !!

  8. #8
    Very great content. Keep on the same way.

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