allsmiles1701
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Summary: (Star Trek Fandom)
And the Terrible Tickle Torture continues...
Still the one, where every male crew member of the Enterprise is subjected to extreme tickle torture.
You might want to read these first:
Part 1: http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...-(*f-multiple-m)-%96-all-over-intense-non-con
Part 2: http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...ll-over-intense-non-con&p=4533580#post4533580
Part 3: http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...ll-over-intense-non-con&p=4550081#post4550081
************************************************
‘It seems Milagros is with us again,’ was all Uhura could think, as she turned towards her console, away from her crew mates’ harrowing and noisy ordeal, accepting that the only thing she could really do to help them was attempting to get off the bridge as quickly as possible and find a way to end this sadistic attack once and for all.
While she was frantically working to open the respective panel to get to the circuits underneath, trying to block out the ticklish howls and desperate pleas for mercy behind her, both Mitchel and Chapel contacted the bridge to let her know that the devious tickling was back in full swing again all over the ship. And even more excruciating than before, if the men’s crazed laughter was anything to go by.
But Uhura didn’t allow their discouraging reports, nor the tormented shrieks and cackling of her male crewmates on the bridge, to distract her from her task, aware that time was clearly of the essence, since every second of this heinous torture was one second too many. And even though the men had really no choice but to take it, she didn’t think they could last very much longer. She certainly couldn't imagine enduring such diabolical tickling at all.
Totally engrossed in her work, Uhura didn’t even look up when the tickling suddenly seemed to stop again, the cackling and howling slowly turning into panting, coughing, and uncensored cursing. Whatever the reason, she was just grateful that her friends were granted some relief again. But she surely wasn’t going to waste any more precious time to futilely search for the tickler-women’s non-existent weaknesses.
Only when the giggling started anew, and she heard a completely new and unexpected growling sound, followed by a high-pitched shriek and then a deep, desperate belly-laugh to her left, did she stop to investigate. One look at Spock made her blood curdle. He’d already been suffering terribly before, no doubt about that, but while he hadn’t been able to make any sound to express his ticklishness up to now, the sounds that were now being forced out of him, as his feet were tormented in an obviously even more cruel way, tore at Uhura’s heart.
Apparently, while humans fell into silent laughter when the tickling got too intense, the opposite seemed to be true for the Vulcan, forcing the very first sounds out of him and coercing him into seriously ticklish, howling laughter. Uhura couldn't imagine what he was going through, as he lay there on his back, his head thrashing from side to side, desperate fists ceaselessly pounding the deck, his back arching wildly, and his whole torso practically bouncing off the floor to the rhythm of the tickler’s devilish nails scratching under his sensitive toes.
Looking closer, Uhura noticed that not even all hands were currently engaged in torturing the first officer’s ticklish feet. Two hands were hanging idly by the woman’s side, while two more hands had gripped Spock’s toes and were forcefully pulling them back, to fiendishly give the only ten nails that were actually doing the tickling unrestricted access to the vulnerable area between the pads of his toes and the balls of his feet: the highly responsive stems of his hyper-ticklish toes.
There was no tickling his soles now, or his heels, or his arches. The excruciating torture was concentrated solely on this one, obviously deathly area, and Uhura felt the hair on her neck stand up as she watched the torturous nails relentlessly skitter left and right under Spock’s toes, reducing the normally so restrained Vulcan to a screeching, howling, insanely ticklish mess.
Finally tearing her eyes away from Spock, Uhura let her gaze sweep across the bridge, discovering that all the other bridge officers currently seemed to be subjected to tickling in one spot only as well. And, unsurprisingly of course, in what she suspected to be their worst spots, too, thus freeing at least one set of every tickler’s hands. To do what, Uhura didn’t even dare to think about.
Her only-one-spot theory was confirmed, when there were more and more desperate cries and collective pleas for “Not there!” or “Anywhere but there!” mixed in with the howling laughter and hysterical cackling. Those women knew exactly which spots to choose, and how to tickle them to the most excruciating effect. How they could have obtained such specific information was beyond Uhura.
Kirk seemed to have it worst, but it had been pretty obvious from the start that the poor captain’s belly was off the scale ticklish. Especially those spots on either side of his lower belly, that were now being mercilessly targeted. No more than two fingers, hardly moving at all, were absolutely killing him. His fists, held up high in the air, were helplessly clenching and unclenching. His feet were alternating between frantic kicking and desperate stomping. His mouth wide open in ticklish agony, he could hardly breathe from laughing so hard. It seemed that focusing on this one excruciating spot was even worse for him than the tickling of all hands together, in all those tickle spots, had been.
The same appeared to be true for Scotty, whose death spots near the back rims of his armpits were being cruelly exploited, a mere finger drilling into this diabolical spot on either side reducing him to almost silent laughter, tears streaming down his face, as his whole body was bouncing up and down in his chair, practically hitting the roof with every devious poke at these two, highly torturous spots.
Sulu’s worst spot, surprisingly, were obviously not his insanely ticklish ribs or hips, but the backs of his thighs. The light, feathering touches there, nails maddeningly scratching and scribbling right underneath his buttocks had him giggling like a maniac, his laboured gulps for air seriously worrying Uhura. And from his wide-open eyes, shining almost comically bright in his dark crimson face, it almost seemed that these particular spots, or the degree of his ticklishness there, or possibly both, had come as quite a surprise to him, too.
As for Chekov, Uhura could barely bring herself to look at him. The boy was slowly, but surely losing his mind, oblivious to his surroundings and totally consumed by this tickle hell. His face twisted, and his body shaking with uncontrollable laughter, his two ticklers were alternating between drilling into the creases between his hips and thighs, easily the worst spot Uhura could imagine on herself, and those awful spots high on either side of his stomach that made him screech and yell “Nyet!” with every single scratch of a devilish fingernail there.
It seemed the two ticklers were comparing spots, trying to gauge which was more ticklish, almost making it look like a competition. Stomach, creases, both at once, stomach, creases, both at once, the vicious routine all but killing poor Chekov. Even more so, since each of them now had three sets of hands free to pin him down even harder, thus rendering him completely immobile and robbing him of the slightest chance to alleviate his suffering by writhing or bouncing and escaping the harrowing touches for even a second.
Uhura briefly wondered, why the ticklers hadn’t chosen those deadly spots on the boy’s lower belly, knowing fully well how he couldn't even bear to be touched there. Unbearably ticklish and easily accessible under the hem of his shirt and right above the waist of his uniform pants, the area had been a popular, and always highly successful target in most every tickle fight.
To her shame, she realised only now, how torturous and not fun at all those tickle fights must have been for Pavel, vowing never again to stand by and watch people doing this to him, let alone participate herself. And considering how devastating those evil spots had always proven for Chekov, she could only imagine how much worse the tickler’s chosen spots on his stomach had to be.
For everyone but Chekov, it was merely one spot that was being abused, albeit with unmatched efficiency, and it had barely been two minutes, but already the men had tears of laughter streaming down their cheeks, their faces glistening wet from the most intense torture yet. Even Spock’s.
Uhura tried to double her efforts in finding a way out of this obnoxious predicament for her suffering friends, but just as she was about to turn back to her task, her attention was captured by the tickler-women reaching inside some pocket in their garments with their free hands and pulling out strange little devices.
Never ceasing their harrowing assault on the men’s most ticklish spots, they held one of these kind of sucking devices to the corners of each man’s eyes, starting to collect their tears.
So this was about the men’s tears? Uhura was completely taken aback. Wouldn’t there have been a kinder way to get them? If they were after tears of laughter, surely a good joke might have done the trick! Unless they had to be tears of ticklish laughter. Maybe the agony added some ingredient?
Incredulously watching as the ticklers impassively continued to harvest the ticklish tears, their containers slowly filling up while the men were being driven insane by the unceasing, devious torment of their most ticklish spots, Uhura just hoped that they’d finally got what they’d come for and would leave the men alone now.
However, they kept up their diabolical torment even after they’d stowed away their devices again, all their hands joining back in with the devious assault now, as if searching for still more effective ways to tickle the men out of their minds. Uhura couldn't help feeling that the ticklers, unmoved as they might appear, were getting actual sadistic pleasure out of reducing her friends to begging, hiccupping, incoherent pictures of ticklish misery.
Feeling her own skin prickle and tingle in sympathy, she quickly turned back to her circuits, glad to be nearly done, and breathing a sigh of relief, when the tormented laughter behind her started to abate again, her friends obviously being granted another respite.
************************************************
In sickbay, Christine let out a long, relieved breath, when the ticklers finally stopped their assault and let the men catch their breath. The first thing she did while the tickle victims still giggled and twitched away, was to call the bridge, only to learn that the same obnoxious thing had just happened there, too.
When the tickling had first started again, exploiting all the men’s tickle spots even more expertly and effectively than before, the nurse had been sure it couldn't get any worse. Only to be proven wrong moments later, when, to the men’s utter horror, the ticklers had suddenly begun to focus on one spot only. Everybody’s absolute death spot, of course, which the tickler-women apparently had had no difficulty singling out.
Chapel hadn’t even collected all the ingredients for McCoy’s protective serum, let alone started on producing it, when the first desperate pleas to be tickled “anywhere but there” had been roared across sickbay. And when she’d hurried back to the two doctors’ side, she’d immediately seen that all the tickling on M’Benga’s belly had stopped, but for the one diabolical finger viciously attacking his belly-button. If she’d thought he’d had it bad before, he was now literally being destroyed, his agony seeming to have multiplied by having nothing but his very worst spot so cruelly tormented.
Almost frozen with horror, Christine had forced herself to look at McCoy, whose frantic pleading, choked out between fits of the most hysterical laughter, had made her skin crawl. Like with M’Benga, each one of his ticklers had chosen a single spot to focus on, thus seeming to raise the CMO’s suffering to unprecedented levels. Chapel hadn’t been surprised to see those excruciating spots right underneath his armpits being assaulted, causing the doctor’s body to arch like mad and practically lift off the biobed with every devious clawing poke there, forcing the strangest sounds from McCoy as he was shaking with helpless laughter.
Christine had, however, been rather taken aback when she’d discovered which spot his lower-body tickler had chosen. Having observed the doctor’s reactions to the various foot tickling techniques earlier, she would have sworn there wasn’t possibly a more ticklish spot on his body than his arches. She must have been wrong, though, because what had the doctor kicking and bucking and going completely ballistic, at least as far as his restrained position would allow, had been maddeningly light tickling behind his knees. His legs had seemed to be virtually vibrating in ticklish agony, as ten devious nails had been sadistically scribbling over and fluttering against his skin in those harrowing spots.
Unable to watch the CMO’s crippling ordeal any longer, Chapel had hurried to where her fellow nurses had been standing, mesmerised by everyone else’s renewed torment.
Mark, still being held a few inches above the floor by his hips and helplessly flopping around like a fish out of water, had had his neck, specifically the area right behind and underneath his ears, devilishly exploited, and was squealing and giggling and screaming in a voice so high-pitched, it had seemed impossible to come from such a bear of a man.
And Rob, still pinned face down with his horrendously ticklish back exposed, had been tormented between his shoulder blades, where his tickler seemed to have found a devastatingly sensitive spot on either side of his spine, the lightly spidering nails there making him cry out in anguish and slam his face down on the biobed in ticklish agony every time he tried to catch his breath after another fit of hysterical cackling.
Letting her gaze drift over to the patients, Chapel had gasped in shock when she’d caught sight of Farraday’s inconceivable torture. The poor man had practically been doing sit-ups, incessantly jerking upright and flopping back down on his back as the soles of his feet were mercilessly abused, screaming laughter and looking positively demented.
While his soles had seemed like one huge, incredibly torturous tickle spot to Christine earlier, his tickler had obviously managed to single out one tiny spot on the balls of his feet, right underneath his big toes, that seemed to be even worse than the rest. A single fingernail sadistically scratching this very specific spot on each sole, had been enough to literally tickle him to insanity.
Witnessing Farraday’s heinous torment, even McCoy’s ordeal had seemed to fade in comparison, and Chapel had felt a renewed bout of hatred for those atrocious women who didn’t shy back from exploiting such vulnerability and figuring out ever more horrendous ways to push an already so incredibly suffering man past his limits.
Tearing her eyes away from Farraday to check on the other two patients, she’d found that the ticklers had obviously determined their most excruciating spots, too, and were evilly abusing them. The two men, who’d already provided the noisiest suffering in sickbay during the first attack, were now literally laughing their heads off, as one had his exposed armpits viciously stroked and poked and prodded, while the other had to endure ten diabolical fingernails maddeningly skittering all over his insanely ticklish belly.
Watching and listening to everyone’s hellish agony, it had hit Christine that she’d never seen so much ticklishness in one place, briefly wondering if men in general, although maybe better at hiding it, were somehow more ticklish than women, and if that was the reason they’d been targeted in the first place.
Helpless to do anything else, she’d gone back to preparing everything for McCoy’s serum, hoping against hope that they’d still get the chance to put his idea into practice. While she’d been running around frantically to have everything ready as quickly as possible, she’d watched the ticklers collect the men’s ticklish tears in little bottles, just as they had obviously done on the bridge, too. And just like Uhura, she’d half expected this whole nightmare to be over once they’d got what they’d apparently come for.
She should have known better, of course. Although the tickler-women’s stoic expressions had never faltered, Christine hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that they had drawn out their tear-milking procedure far longer than strictly necessary, just for their own pleasure.
There had been another moment of hope, when the women had put the tear-filled bottles back in their garments, but when the tickling had stopped once again without the ticklers actually letting the men go or even just removing their tickle-fingers, it had been clear that this was still not the end of the ticklish invasion.
So, trying not to even think about what else might be in store for her impossibly ticklish male crew mates, Chapel pushed the trolley with all the ingredients McCoy had had her collect towards the doctor’s room, coming to a halt right next to the biobed where he was currently fighting his way back down from his most recent ticklish frenzy.
“Let’s get started, Doctor,” she smiled comfortingly at the bleary-eyed CMO, who was still shaking and twitching and taking in huge gulps of air.
“Yes, let’s, Christine,” he croaked, “can’t afford to waste another minute!”
Continued in:
All-Male Hilarity - Part 5: http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...-intense-non-con-sexual&p=4625397#post4625397
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Disclaimer:
I own nothing of Star Trek
************************************************
My other stories:
Ticklish!Kirk & Ticklish!McCoy:
Not a Word of This to Anyone! (Or: A Ticklish Spa Day)
Part 1: Pedicure http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...-Ticklish-Spa-Day)-%96-Part-1-Pedicure-(ff-mm)
Part 2: Full Body Massage http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...-Part-2-Massage-(ff-mm)&p=4632192#post4632192
Ticklish!McCoy:
A Ticklish Predicament (f/m) - Chapel's POV http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?317779-A-Ticklish-Predicament-Star-Trek-Fandom-(f-m)
A Ticklish Predicament (f/m) - McCoy's POV http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...redicament-Star-Trek-Fandom-(f-m)-McCoy-s-POV
A Shared Kink (Part 3 of "A Ticklish Predicament" f/m, sexual) - Chapel's POV http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...nt-Star-Trek-Fandom-(f-m)-Chapel-s-POV-sexual
How (Not) To Tickle Your Boyfriend (Part 4 of "A Ticklish Predicament" f/m, sexual) - McCoy's POV http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...cklish-Predicament-quot&p=4549250#post4549250
Ticklish!Spock:
Emotional Release (m/m) http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?318673-Emotional-Release-(m-m)
And the Terrible Tickle Torture continues...
Still the one, where every male crew member of the Enterprise is subjected to extreme tickle torture.
You might want to read these first:
Part 1: http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...-(*f-multiple-m)-%96-all-over-intense-non-con
Part 2: http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...ll-over-intense-non-con&p=4533580#post4533580
Part 3: http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...ll-over-intense-non-con&p=4550081#post4550081
************************************************
‘It seems Milagros is with us again,’ was all Uhura could think, as she turned towards her console, away from her crew mates’ harrowing and noisy ordeal, accepting that the only thing she could really do to help them was attempting to get off the bridge as quickly as possible and find a way to end this sadistic attack once and for all.
While she was frantically working to open the respective panel to get to the circuits underneath, trying to block out the ticklish howls and desperate pleas for mercy behind her, both Mitchel and Chapel contacted the bridge to let her know that the devious tickling was back in full swing again all over the ship. And even more excruciating than before, if the men’s crazed laughter was anything to go by.
But Uhura didn’t allow their discouraging reports, nor the tormented shrieks and cackling of her male crewmates on the bridge, to distract her from her task, aware that time was clearly of the essence, since every second of this heinous torture was one second too many. And even though the men had really no choice but to take it, she didn’t think they could last very much longer. She certainly couldn't imagine enduring such diabolical tickling at all.
Totally engrossed in her work, Uhura didn’t even look up when the tickling suddenly seemed to stop again, the cackling and howling slowly turning into panting, coughing, and uncensored cursing. Whatever the reason, she was just grateful that her friends were granted some relief again. But she surely wasn’t going to waste any more precious time to futilely search for the tickler-women’s non-existent weaknesses.
Only when the giggling started anew, and she heard a completely new and unexpected growling sound, followed by a high-pitched shriek and then a deep, desperate belly-laugh to her left, did she stop to investigate. One look at Spock made her blood curdle. He’d already been suffering terribly before, no doubt about that, but while he hadn’t been able to make any sound to express his ticklishness up to now, the sounds that were now being forced out of him, as his feet were tormented in an obviously even more cruel way, tore at Uhura’s heart.
Apparently, while humans fell into silent laughter when the tickling got too intense, the opposite seemed to be true for the Vulcan, forcing the very first sounds out of him and coercing him into seriously ticklish, howling laughter. Uhura couldn't imagine what he was going through, as he lay there on his back, his head thrashing from side to side, desperate fists ceaselessly pounding the deck, his back arching wildly, and his whole torso practically bouncing off the floor to the rhythm of the tickler’s devilish nails scratching under his sensitive toes.
Looking closer, Uhura noticed that not even all hands were currently engaged in torturing the first officer’s ticklish feet. Two hands were hanging idly by the woman’s side, while two more hands had gripped Spock’s toes and were forcefully pulling them back, to fiendishly give the only ten nails that were actually doing the tickling unrestricted access to the vulnerable area between the pads of his toes and the balls of his feet: the highly responsive stems of his hyper-ticklish toes.
There was no tickling his soles now, or his heels, or his arches. The excruciating torture was concentrated solely on this one, obviously deathly area, and Uhura felt the hair on her neck stand up as she watched the torturous nails relentlessly skitter left and right under Spock’s toes, reducing the normally so restrained Vulcan to a screeching, howling, insanely ticklish mess.
Finally tearing her eyes away from Spock, Uhura let her gaze sweep across the bridge, discovering that all the other bridge officers currently seemed to be subjected to tickling in one spot only as well. And, unsurprisingly of course, in what she suspected to be their worst spots, too, thus freeing at least one set of every tickler’s hands. To do what, Uhura didn’t even dare to think about.
Her only-one-spot theory was confirmed, when there were more and more desperate cries and collective pleas for “Not there!” or “Anywhere but there!” mixed in with the howling laughter and hysterical cackling. Those women knew exactly which spots to choose, and how to tickle them to the most excruciating effect. How they could have obtained such specific information was beyond Uhura.
Kirk seemed to have it worst, but it had been pretty obvious from the start that the poor captain’s belly was off the scale ticklish. Especially those spots on either side of his lower belly, that were now being mercilessly targeted. No more than two fingers, hardly moving at all, were absolutely killing him. His fists, held up high in the air, were helplessly clenching and unclenching. His feet were alternating between frantic kicking and desperate stomping. His mouth wide open in ticklish agony, he could hardly breathe from laughing so hard. It seemed that focusing on this one excruciating spot was even worse for him than the tickling of all hands together, in all those tickle spots, had been.
The same appeared to be true for Scotty, whose death spots near the back rims of his armpits were being cruelly exploited, a mere finger drilling into this diabolical spot on either side reducing him to almost silent laughter, tears streaming down his face, as his whole body was bouncing up and down in his chair, practically hitting the roof with every devious poke at these two, highly torturous spots.
Sulu’s worst spot, surprisingly, were obviously not his insanely ticklish ribs or hips, but the backs of his thighs. The light, feathering touches there, nails maddeningly scratching and scribbling right underneath his buttocks had him giggling like a maniac, his laboured gulps for air seriously worrying Uhura. And from his wide-open eyes, shining almost comically bright in his dark crimson face, it almost seemed that these particular spots, or the degree of his ticklishness there, or possibly both, had come as quite a surprise to him, too.
As for Chekov, Uhura could barely bring herself to look at him. The boy was slowly, but surely losing his mind, oblivious to his surroundings and totally consumed by this tickle hell. His face twisted, and his body shaking with uncontrollable laughter, his two ticklers were alternating between drilling into the creases between his hips and thighs, easily the worst spot Uhura could imagine on herself, and those awful spots high on either side of his stomach that made him screech and yell “Nyet!” with every single scratch of a devilish fingernail there.
It seemed the two ticklers were comparing spots, trying to gauge which was more ticklish, almost making it look like a competition. Stomach, creases, both at once, stomach, creases, both at once, the vicious routine all but killing poor Chekov. Even more so, since each of them now had three sets of hands free to pin him down even harder, thus rendering him completely immobile and robbing him of the slightest chance to alleviate his suffering by writhing or bouncing and escaping the harrowing touches for even a second.
Uhura briefly wondered, why the ticklers hadn’t chosen those deadly spots on the boy’s lower belly, knowing fully well how he couldn't even bear to be touched there. Unbearably ticklish and easily accessible under the hem of his shirt and right above the waist of his uniform pants, the area had been a popular, and always highly successful target in most every tickle fight.
To her shame, she realised only now, how torturous and not fun at all those tickle fights must have been for Pavel, vowing never again to stand by and watch people doing this to him, let alone participate herself. And considering how devastating those evil spots had always proven for Chekov, she could only imagine how much worse the tickler’s chosen spots on his stomach had to be.
For everyone but Chekov, it was merely one spot that was being abused, albeit with unmatched efficiency, and it had barely been two minutes, but already the men had tears of laughter streaming down their cheeks, their faces glistening wet from the most intense torture yet. Even Spock’s.
Uhura tried to double her efforts in finding a way out of this obnoxious predicament for her suffering friends, but just as she was about to turn back to her task, her attention was captured by the tickler-women reaching inside some pocket in their garments with their free hands and pulling out strange little devices.
Never ceasing their harrowing assault on the men’s most ticklish spots, they held one of these kind of sucking devices to the corners of each man’s eyes, starting to collect their tears.
So this was about the men’s tears? Uhura was completely taken aback. Wouldn’t there have been a kinder way to get them? If they were after tears of laughter, surely a good joke might have done the trick! Unless they had to be tears of ticklish laughter. Maybe the agony added some ingredient?
Incredulously watching as the ticklers impassively continued to harvest the ticklish tears, their containers slowly filling up while the men were being driven insane by the unceasing, devious torment of their most ticklish spots, Uhura just hoped that they’d finally got what they’d come for and would leave the men alone now.
However, they kept up their diabolical torment even after they’d stowed away their devices again, all their hands joining back in with the devious assault now, as if searching for still more effective ways to tickle the men out of their minds. Uhura couldn't help feeling that the ticklers, unmoved as they might appear, were getting actual sadistic pleasure out of reducing her friends to begging, hiccupping, incoherent pictures of ticklish misery.
Feeling her own skin prickle and tingle in sympathy, she quickly turned back to her circuits, glad to be nearly done, and breathing a sigh of relief, when the tormented laughter behind her started to abate again, her friends obviously being granted another respite.
************************************************
In sickbay, Christine let out a long, relieved breath, when the ticklers finally stopped their assault and let the men catch their breath. The first thing she did while the tickle victims still giggled and twitched away, was to call the bridge, only to learn that the same obnoxious thing had just happened there, too.
When the tickling had first started again, exploiting all the men’s tickle spots even more expertly and effectively than before, the nurse had been sure it couldn't get any worse. Only to be proven wrong moments later, when, to the men’s utter horror, the ticklers had suddenly begun to focus on one spot only. Everybody’s absolute death spot, of course, which the tickler-women apparently had had no difficulty singling out.
Chapel hadn’t even collected all the ingredients for McCoy’s protective serum, let alone started on producing it, when the first desperate pleas to be tickled “anywhere but there” had been roared across sickbay. And when she’d hurried back to the two doctors’ side, she’d immediately seen that all the tickling on M’Benga’s belly had stopped, but for the one diabolical finger viciously attacking his belly-button. If she’d thought he’d had it bad before, he was now literally being destroyed, his agony seeming to have multiplied by having nothing but his very worst spot so cruelly tormented.
Almost frozen with horror, Christine had forced herself to look at McCoy, whose frantic pleading, choked out between fits of the most hysterical laughter, had made her skin crawl. Like with M’Benga, each one of his ticklers had chosen a single spot to focus on, thus seeming to raise the CMO’s suffering to unprecedented levels. Chapel hadn’t been surprised to see those excruciating spots right underneath his armpits being assaulted, causing the doctor’s body to arch like mad and practically lift off the biobed with every devious clawing poke there, forcing the strangest sounds from McCoy as he was shaking with helpless laughter.
Christine had, however, been rather taken aback when she’d discovered which spot his lower-body tickler had chosen. Having observed the doctor’s reactions to the various foot tickling techniques earlier, she would have sworn there wasn’t possibly a more ticklish spot on his body than his arches. She must have been wrong, though, because what had the doctor kicking and bucking and going completely ballistic, at least as far as his restrained position would allow, had been maddeningly light tickling behind his knees. His legs had seemed to be virtually vibrating in ticklish agony, as ten devious nails had been sadistically scribbling over and fluttering against his skin in those harrowing spots.
Unable to watch the CMO’s crippling ordeal any longer, Chapel had hurried to where her fellow nurses had been standing, mesmerised by everyone else’s renewed torment.
Mark, still being held a few inches above the floor by his hips and helplessly flopping around like a fish out of water, had had his neck, specifically the area right behind and underneath his ears, devilishly exploited, and was squealing and giggling and screaming in a voice so high-pitched, it had seemed impossible to come from such a bear of a man.
And Rob, still pinned face down with his horrendously ticklish back exposed, had been tormented between his shoulder blades, where his tickler seemed to have found a devastatingly sensitive spot on either side of his spine, the lightly spidering nails there making him cry out in anguish and slam his face down on the biobed in ticklish agony every time he tried to catch his breath after another fit of hysterical cackling.
Letting her gaze drift over to the patients, Chapel had gasped in shock when she’d caught sight of Farraday’s inconceivable torture. The poor man had practically been doing sit-ups, incessantly jerking upright and flopping back down on his back as the soles of his feet were mercilessly abused, screaming laughter and looking positively demented.
While his soles had seemed like one huge, incredibly torturous tickle spot to Christine earlier, his tickler had obviously managed to single out one tiny spot on the balls of his feet, right underneath his big toes, that seemed to be even worse than the rest. A single fingernail sadistically scratching this very specific spot on each sole, had been enough to literally tickle him to insanity.
Witnessing Farraday’s heinous torment, even McCoy’s ordeal had seemed to fade in comparison, and Chapel had felt a renewed bout of hatred for those atrocious women who didn’t shy back from exploiting such vulnerability and figuring out ever more horrendous ways to push an already so incredibly suffering man past his limits.
Tearing her eyes away from Farraday to check on the other two patients, she’d found that the ticklers had obviously determined their most excruciating spots, too, and were evilly abusing them. The two men, who’d already provided the noisiest suffering in sickbay during the first attack, were now literally laughing their heads off, as one had his exposed armpits viciously stroked and poked and prodded, while the other had to endure ten diabolical fingernails maddeningly skittering all over his insanely ticklish belly.
Watching and listening to everyone’s hellish agony, it had hit Christine that she’d never seen so much ticklishness in one place, briefly wondering if men in general, although maybe better at hiding it, were somehow more ticklish than women, and if that was the reason they’d been targeted in the first place.
Helpless to do anything else, she’d gone back to preparing everything for McCoy’s serum, hoping against hope that they’d still get the chance to put his idea into practice. While she’d been running around frantically to have everything ready as quickly as possible, she’d watched the ticklers collect the men’s ticklish tears in little bottles, just as they had obviously done on the bridge, too. And just like Uhura, she’d half expected this whole nightmare to be over once they’d got what they’d apparently come for.
She should have known better, of course. Although the tickler-women’s stoic expressions had never faltered, Christine hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that they had drawn out their tear-milking procedure far longer than strictly necessary, just for their own pleasure.
There had been another moment of hope, when the women had put the tear-filled bottles back in their garments, but when the tickling had stopped once again without the ticklers actually letting the men go or even just removing their tickle-fingers, it had been clear that this was still not the end of the ticklish invasion.
So, trying not to even think about what else might be in store for her impossibly ticklish male crew mates, Chapel pushed the trolley with all the ingredients McCoy had had her collect towards the doctor’s room, coming to a halt right next to the biobed where he was currently fighting his way back down from his most recent ticklish frenzy.
“Let’s get started, Doctor,” she smiled comfortingly at the bleary-eyed CMO, who was still shaking and twitching and taking in huge gulps of air.
“Yes, let’s, Christine,” he croaked, “can’t afford to waste another minute!”
Continued in:
All-Male Hilarity - Part 5: http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...-intense-non-con-sexual&p=4625397#post4625397
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Disclaimer:
I own nothing of Star Trek
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My other stories:
Ticklish!Kirk & Ticklish!McCoy:
Not a Word of This to Anyone! (Or: A Ticklish Spa Day)
Part 1: Pedicure http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...-Ticklish-Spa-Day)-%96-Part-1-Pedicure-(ff-mm)
Part 2: Full Body Massage http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...-Part-2-Massage-(ff-mm)&p=4632192#post4632192
Ticklish!McCoy:
A Ticklish Predicament (f/m) - Chapel's POV http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?317779-A-Ticklish-Predicament-Star-Trek-Fandom-(f-m)
A Ticklish Predicament (f/m) - McCoy's POV http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...redicament-Star-Trek-Fandom-(f-m)-McCoy-s-POV
A Shared Kink (Part 3 of "A Ticklish Predicament" f/m, sexual) - Chapel's POV http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...nt-Star-Trek-Fandom-(f-m)-Chapel-s-POV-sexual
How (Not) To Tickle Your Boyfriend (Part 4 of "A Ticklish Predicament" f/m, sexual) - McCoy's POV http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...cklish-Predicament-quot&p=4549250#post4549250
Ticklish!Spock:
Emotional Release (m/m) http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?318673-Emotional-Release-(m-m)
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