MrBawkbagawk
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Hey, y'all! Inspired by Primal's amazing Parks & Rec stories, my brain's been cooking with ideas for stories based on another NBC comedy, one of my favorite shows of all time, The Good Place! Hope you enjoy 
*
“All right, you piece of shirt, just let me go now, and I won’t have to go full Phoenix white trash on you.”
Eleanor Shellstrop talked a big game and relished intimidating people back on earth while she was alive, cursing up a storm left and right, but here in The Good Place...well, at least what she thought was The Good Place, people could see straight through her. It didn’t help that the rules of the place put a 24/7 kibosh on her potty mouth.
“And trust me, you have not seen white trash until you’ve seen Phoenix white trash.”
Vicky rolled her eyes as her captive continued shouting empty threats, her tall black heels clacking against the cobblestone of the town square.
“Oh, really? You and what army?” Vicky said. “Last I checked, Bad Janet is dealing with Janet, Tahani is being tortured by a demon disguised as her sister-- My brilliant idea, I might add-- that idiot Jason is probably mesmerized by something shiny, and your big, brave boyfriend, Chidi? He probably died from indecision when he came to a fork in the road!”
“Hey, you leave him out of this, motherforker!”
Eleanor pulled at her stocks, but she knew she wasn’t going anywhere. Vicky and the rest of the demons from The Bad Place are experts in all things torture, and when you’re locked in a set of medieval stocks, you’re not in much of a bargaining position.
All Eleanor could do from this futile position, hands locked between her ankles in front of her, was wiggle her toes. There was at least some brief sense of relief in the fact that her pedicure was permanently perfect on this plane, a glossy coat of black polish staring back at her.
“Blah, blah, blah. Face it, blondie! I was a better Eleanor than you could ever dream of being! Do you need me to recite another one of my famous monologues? ‘Helping the world is...the least I could do...I just hope that when I die, I--’”
Eleanor groaned loudly in frustration.
“Oh, boy, okay, you know what? Whatever torture Sean sent you here to dish out, let’s just get to it, because it’s GOT to be better than listening to you try and act, you colossal bench. What is it? Bees with teeth? Butthole spiders?”
Vicky laughed out loud, a vile chortle dripping with menace.
“Oh, sweetheart. Sean retired those methods months ago. See, in our research, we found one very, very interesting weakness of yours.”
Eleanor’s face twisted in genuine confusion. She’s a slammin’ hottie and a 10/10, “weakness” isn’t in her vocabulary. Well, there’s that weakness for Chidi in a mail-carrier’s uniform, but she got the sense that that’s not what Vicky meant.
“Come on, blondie, I know you’re not as dumb as you let on. You’ve GOT to know what I mean. Perhaps this will jog your memory…”
Vicky gestured above her where a giant screen materialized, the type that Michael uses for his endless orientations. An old-timey film lead counted down from 5 to 1, and what followed filled Eleanor’s heart with dread.
It was a compilation of all of the pedicures that she’d gotten on earth, and there were a LOT of them. Every single time, when it came time for the pedicurist to scrub her soles with a pumice stone, Eleanor would completely lose her mind, screwing her eyelids shut, giggling, cursing like a sailor. Yes, for as tough and as no-nonsense as Eleanor was, the painful truth was that she was ticklish to an ungodly degree, and being in the afterlife had not changed that one iota.
Eleanor was humiliated as she was confronted with her own weakness, watching countless clips of her flailing in salon chairs, water flying everywhere. Particularly embarrassing was when mischievous pedicurists would catch on, wrapping an arm around her ankles and spidering their long nails up and down her soles. Needless to say, they would get a mouthful afterwards...and no tip.
“Okay, uh, Vicky, look, we can talk about this, you-hahahaha!! No, please, not that!”
Vicky had had enough of Eleanor’s pleading and began raking her nails along Eleanor’s perfectly shaped arches.
“Girl, I’m done talking! You’ve interfered with Bad Place plans long enough, and now it’s time I taught you a lesson.”
Vicky pulled the toes back on Eleanor’s left foot, stretching her soles taut, and worked it over, barely missing an inch. Vicky was a pain, to be sure, but she was thorough, mentally mapping out all of Eleanor’s weakest spots-- just above her heel, right underneath her adorable little toes.
“Hahahaha! Oh, my forking god, PLEASE, you hahaha can’t do this to me! I can’t take it!”
“You’re gonna have to! Nobody’s coming to save you, and in case you need a reminder, we’re here for eternity, so you don’t have much of a choice, now, do you? But you know what? I’m getting bored. Let’s...switch things up, shall we?”
The screen materialized again, and Eleanor’s eyes darted up to it.
“Ooh! I’ve always loved sequels,” Vicky quipped.
She blushed as she watched her old ex, Mike, on the screen, giving her a foot rub. He leaned down and began to nibble on her toes, slipping his tongue between them, and Eleanor just about had a conniption fit, ten times worse than what she went through during pedicures.
“Need I say more?”
“Oh, God, please, look, I’ll do anything, I’ll give you whatever you want, I’ll tell you all about our plans to get rid of Sean, anything you want to know just NO! Hahahahaha, oh FORK, please, I can’t forking handle it hahahahahaha!"
Vicky was sliding her tongue up and down Eleanor’s vulnerable pink soles, paying extra special attention to her arches and the spot underneath her toes.
“Holy shirt, pleeehehehehehease, no hahahahahaha-- No more!”
“You know what? I don’t think you hate this at all. I think you love this.”
“Hahaha I seriously forking don’t, I promise, I hahahaha HATE being tickled!”
“Hmm, that’s the wrong answer, darlin’.”
Vicky went into overdrive, sucking on Eleanor’s toes, nibbling on her soles. Eleanor threw back her head and cackled into the air.
“Tell me you love it and I might give you a break.”
Eleanor was utterly humiliated to even be considering giving in, but at this point, what choice did she have?
“Hahahahahaha OKAY OKAY, I forking love being tickled!”
“Hmm, I don’t think I believe you.”
Suddenly, Eleanor felt Vicky slathering baby oil all over her bare soles. They were impossibly slick, and softer than they’d ever, ever been on earth.
“I think I might just keep torturing you until you convince me.”
As Vicky produced a hairbrush out of thin air, Eleanor silently cursed the ability to just materialize anything and everything here, while Vicky began raking it up and down Eleanor’s soles, making her howl in agony.
“Hahahaha, I SWEAR, I love being tickled so forking muhuhuhuhuch, I’m a ticklish little bench who just wants to be tickled, all day, every day!”
Eleanor breathed a sigh of relief when Vicky finally stopped.
“Now, now. Was that so hard?”
Eleanor breathlessly giggled as ticklish aftershocks rocked her body.
“Hahaha, ooh, oh, my God, okay, okay, you’ve had your fun, please let me go now.”
“Let you go? Honey, who ever said anything about letting you go? I said I’d give you a break, but, uh, I’m not so sure about them.”
Vicky gestured behind her at a massive legion of fellow demons, taking the guise of men and women alike, all walking up to the stocks that held Eleanor. They each brandished their own weapons-- some with feathers, some with toothbrushes.
“I invited a few friends, I hope you don’t mind!” Vicky turned around to address the crowd. “Oh, hey, guys, you’re just in time! And you’ll never guess what I just found out!”
Above Eleanor, one more giant screen materialized. On it, a clip from just moments ago played, on a loop. It was Eleanor, her perfect bare feet being tortured in front of her, as she screamed through peals of laughter:
“I love being tickled so forking muhuhuhuhuch, I’m a ticklish little bench who just wants to be tickled, all day, every day!”
Eleanor’s heart sank after the first time it played, much less the endless repetition that followed.
“I love being tickled so forking muhuhuhuhuch, I’m a ticklish little bench who just wants to be tickled, all day, every day!”
Vicky smirked as she addressed her fellow demons one last time.
“What do you say, guys? Let’s oblige our guest.”
As the crowd got closer and closer to Eleanor’s feet, she knew that she was royally forked...
*
“All right, you piece of shirt, just let me go now, and I won’t have to go full Phoenix white trash on you.”
Eleanor Shellstrop talked a big game and relished intimidating people back on earth while she was alive, cursing up a storm left and right, but here in The Good Place...well, at least what she thought was The Good Place, people could see straight through her. It didn’t help that the rules of the place put a 24/7 kibosh on her potty mouth.
“And trust me, you have not seen white trash until you’ve seen Phoenix white trash.”
Vicky rolled her eyes as her captive continued shouting empty threats, her tall black heels clacking against the cobblestone of the town square.
“Oh, really? You and what army?” Vicky said. “Last I checked, Bad Janet is dealing with Janet, Tahani is being tortured by a demon disguised as her sister-- My brilliant idea, I might add-- that idiot Jason is probably mesmerized by something shiny, and your big, brave boyfriend, Chidi? He probably died from indecision when he came to a fork in the road!”
“Hey, you leave him out of this, motherforker!”
Eleanor pulled at her stocks, but she knew she wasn’t going anywhere. Vicky and the rest of the demons from The Bad Place are experts in all things torture, and when you’re locked in a set of medieval stocks, you’re not in much of a bargaining position.
All Eleanor could do from this futile position, hands locked between her ankles in front of her, was wiggle her toes. There was at least some brief sense of relief in the fact that her pedicure was permanently perfect on this plane, a glossy coat of black polish staring back at her.
“Blah, blah, blah. Face it, blondie! I was a better Eleanor than you could ever dream of being! Do you need me to recite another one of my famous monologues? ‘Helping the world is...the least I could do...I just hope that when I die, I--’”
Eleanor groaned loudly in frustration.
“Oh, boy, okay, you know what? Whatever torture Sean sent you here to dish out, let’s just get to it, because it’s GOT to be better than listening to you try and act, you colossal bench. What is it? Bees with teeth? Butthole spiders?”
Vicky laughed out loud, a vile chortle dripping with menace.
“Oh, sweetheart. Sean retired those methods months ago. See, in our research, we found one very, very interesting weakness of yours.”
Eleanor’s face twisted in genuine confusion. She’s a slammin’ hottie and a 10/10, “weakness” isn’t in her vocabulary. Well, there’s that weakness for Chidi in a mail-carrier’s uniform, but she got the sense that that’s not what Vicky meant.
“Come on, blondie, I know you’re not as dumb as you let on. You’ve GOT to know what I mean. Perhaps this will jog your memory…”
Vicky gestured above her where a giant screen materialized, the type that Michael uses for his endless orientations. An old-timey film lead counted down from 5 to 1, and what followed filled Eleanor’s heart with dread.
It was a compilation of all of the pedicures that she’d gotten on earth, and there were a LOT of them. Every single time, when it came time for the pedicurist to scrub her soles with a pumice stone, Eleanor would completely lose her mind, screwing her eyelids shut, giggling, cursing like a sailor. Yes, for as tough and as no-nonsense as Eleanor was, the painful truth was that she was ticklish to an ungodly degree, and being in the afterlife had not changed that one iota.
Eleanor was humiliated as she was confronted with her own weakness, watching countless clips of her flailing in salon chairs, water flying everywhere. Particularly embarrassing was when mischievous pedicurists would catch on, wrapping an arm around her ankles and spidering their long nails up and down her soles. Needless to say, they would get a mouthful afterwards...and no tip.
“Okay, uh, Vicky, look, we can talk about this, you-hahahaha!! No, please, not that!”
Vicky had had enough of Eleanor’s pleading and began raking her nails along Eleanor’s perfectly shaped arches.
“Girl, I’m done talking! You’ve interfered with Bad Place plans long enough, and now it’s time I taught you a lesson.”
Vicky pulled the toes back on Eleanor’s left foot, stretching her soles taut, and worked it over, barely missing an inch. Vicky was a pain, to be sure, but she was thorough, mentally mapping out all of Eleanor’s weakest spots-- just above her heel, right underneath her adorable little toes.
“Hahahaha! Oh, my forking god, PLEASE, you hahaha can’t do this to me! I can’t take it!”
“You’re gonna have to! Nobody’s coming to save you, and in case you need a reminder, we’re here for eternity, so you don’t have much of a choice, now, do you? But you know what? I’m getting bored. Let’s...switch things up, shall we?”
The screen materialized again, and Eleanor’s eyes darted up to it.
“Ooh! I’ve always loved sequels,” Vicky quipped.
She blushed as she watched her old ex, Mike, on the screen, giving her a foot rub. He leaned down and began to nibble on her toes, slipping his tongue between them, and Eleanor just about had a conniption fit, ten times worse than what she went through during pedicures.
“Need I say more?”
“Oh, God, please, look, I’ll do anything, I’ll give you whatever you want, I’ll tell you all about our plans to get rid of Sean, anything you want to know just NO! Hahahahaha, oh FORK, please, I can’t forking handle it hahahahahaha!"
Vicky was sliding her tongue up and down Eleanor’s vulnerable pink soles, paying extra special attention to her arches and the spot underneath her toes.
“Holy shirt, pleeehehehehehease, no hahahahahaha-- No more!”
“You know what? I don’t think you hate this at all. I think you love this.”
“Hahaha I seriously forking don’t, I promise, I hahahaha HATE being tickled!”
“Hmm, that’s the wrong answer, darlin’.”
Vicky went into overdrive, sucking on Eleanor’s toes, nibbling on her soles. Eleanor threw back her head and cackled into the air.
“Tell me you love it and I might give you a break.”
Eleanor was utterly humiliated to even be considering giving in, but at this point, what choice did she have?
“Hahahahahaha OKAY OKAY, I forking love being tickled!”
“Hmm, I don’t think I believe you.”
Suddenly, Eleanor felt Vicky slathering baby oil all over her bare soles. They were impossibly slick, and softer than they’d ever, ever been on earth.
“I think I might just keep torturing you until you convince me.”
As Vicky produced a hairbrush out of thin air, Eleanor silently cursed the ability to just materialize anything and everything here, while Vicky began raking it up and down Eleanor’s soles, making her howl in agony.
“Hahahaha, I SWEAR, I love being tickled so forking muhuhuhuhuch, I’m a ticklish little bench who just wants to be tickled, all day, every day!”
Eleanor breathed a sigh of relief when Vicky finally stopped.
“Now, now. Was that so hard?”
Eleanor breathlessly giggled as ticklish aftershocks rocked her body.
“Hahaha, ooh, oh, my God, okay, okay, you’ve had your fun, please let me go now.”
“Let you go? Honey, who ever said anything about letting you go? I said I’d give you a break, but, uh, I’m not so sure about them.”
Vicky gestured behind her at a massive legion of fellow demons, taking the guise of men and women alike, all walking up to the stocks that held Eleanor. They each brandished their own weapons-- some with feathers, some with toothbrushes.
“I invited a few friends, I hope you don’t mind!” Vicky turned around to address the crowd. “Oh, hey, guys, you’re just in time! And you’ll never guess what I just found out!”
Above Eleanor, one more giant screen materialized. On it, a clip from just moments ago played, on a loop. It was Eleanor, her perfect bare feet being tortured in front of her, as she screamed through peals of laughter:
“I love being tickled so forking muhuhuhuhuch, I’m a ticklish little bench who just wants to be tickled, all day, every day!”
Eleanor’s heart sank after the first time it played, much less the endless repetition that followed.
“I love being tickled so forking muhuhuhuhuch, I’m a ticklish little bench who just wants to be tickled, all day, every day!”
Vicky smirked as she addressed her fellow demons one last time.
“What do you say, guys? Let’s oblige our guest.”
As the crowd got closer and closer to Eleanor’s feet, she knew that she was royally forked...
