OldEnglish
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- Apr 21, 2001
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Hey everyone,
Happy New Year to all.
This is a little piece I worked on before the holiday and then kind of just sat on, not sure whether I should post it or not. It's the second story about a crossdressing male and his friend. As I mentioned in the first installment, though the story is entirely fictional, its roots are in reality, which makes it difficult to share.
I do plan to continue with this series some. Even if there is not an appetite for this sort of thing here, I'll write a few more chapters and keep them to myself. With that in mind, this installment contains a fairly good amount of character development.
I hope you enjoy it!
Happy reading,
OldEnglish
A Little Ditty About Ian and Jen (f/cd-m, nylons)
Ian and Jen: Chapter Two (f-cd/m, nylons)
For the second time in as many weekends, Ian stared at himself in the mirror, entirely unable to believe that life had landed him in his current position. Long a closeted cross-dresser who had struggled internally over the ethical dilemma society had placed on those of this persuasion, a simple lapse in judgment - leaving a pair of black flats in plan view of a visitor - had resulted in Ian’s worst nightmare come true - someone in “real life” knowing about this secret side of his. Worse, still, it had been Jen, an ex-girlfriend of some time ago, who had discovered this clandestine alter-ego of Ian. In terms of any possible “worst case scenarios” Ian could have ever written up, this was at the top of the list.
But life has a funny way about it from time to time, and this was one of those funny moments. Jen hadn’t reacted in horror when she heard. Jen hadn’t jumped on her cell phone to tell all of their old mutual friends. Jen hadn’t even run away. No, Jen hadn’t done any of those things. Jen had welcomed it. Essentially, the only thing Jen had questioned was - ‘Why didn’t you ever tell me before?’
And thus, born out of what Ian had considered his absolute worst nightmare was what Ian considered an unattainable dream, a goal that would never come true: Jen wanted to share this side of Ian with him, to provide an outlet, if you will.
Just last weekend, the two had hung out - just pizza and Netflix - and things had seemed… normal. Jen made it clear that she viewed Ian as just another “girlfriend”, which was all Ian had ever hoped for. As lucky as Ian had counted himself to find someone willing to hang out with this alter-ego of Ian, Ian was floored when Jen suggested this become a regular thing, that she had wanted to do it again. Indeed, Ian had had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.
But dreaming he was not, and here he found himself once again staring at himself in the mirror, overanalyzing every element of his outfit that day, while Jen waited in the living room.
“You know, you take longer than most women to get ready, just so you know,” Jen called from the living room, joking at how long Ian had been gone.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Ian laughed back, without denying the accusation. This was just his second time ever dressing in front of someone else and he wanted to make sure he looked as good as he could.
Pleased with her banter, Jen walked around Ian’s living room, patiently awaiting Ian’s “reveal”. Truthfully, she had come into last weekend without high expectations - how nice could a guy look in women’s clothing, after all? - but she had left pleasantly surprised. True, Ian wasn’t going to be a supermodel or anything like that, but he had looked… good. Certainly with a little bit of work, he could look passable if he had ever wanted to venture out of the house dressed in this way. Truth be told, Jen felt Ian looked better in women’s clothing than a lot of women looked in their clothing. Yes, Ian’s conservative choices lended themselves well with his, uh, situation, but there was also something else about it that Jen just couldn’t quite put her finger on… Something that had left her looking forward to the next time the two would meet like this. And the next time… And the next time… Was it the novelty? Surely Ian was the first man she had seen in women’s clothing before. Maybe it was the new phenomenon of seeing someone one was used to presenting as masculine feeling so comfortable with his feminine side that the look had stuck in Jen’s mind? Was it how well the clothes had looked on Ian? Jen would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought of the sight of Ian’s legs in those skinny jeans last week more than once or twice since…
Ian had remembered how Jen had taken to how his legs looked the previous week and this week chose to again wear a pair of skinny jeans - this time, a more conservative pair, minus the faux rip detail. He stretched his legs in front of the mirror to see how they looked. A slight smile crossed his lips, sign that for the first time ever, he wasn’t entirely self-conscious about this. Much thought had gone into this outfit today. Paired with those skinny jeans was another white camisole - a staple in Ian’s wardrobe - and a pink, form-fitting, cashmere-like sweater. Ian had ordered the sweater online recently and had contemplated sending it back, its length not quite congruous with the height of a man wearing it. Indeed, the sweater alone, without the camisole, would not have been enough for Ian’s conservative look; however, it was simply too cute to send back and the addition of an extra-long camisole made it work. Like last week, a pair of suntan pantyhose provided the perfect accessory, but unlike last week, when he had worn a pair of black flats, Ian instead this week opted to wear a pair of plain black closed-toe pumps, their four-inch heel providing even more height for Ian.
Jen gave herself a quick once-over on her camera phone, utilizing the selfie-camera to adjust her hair ever so slightly. Where she was dressed more for comfort last week, Jen had taken a few extra steps this week, not wanting to be completely outdone by Ian. Rather than the grey leggings of last week, Jen had opted for a pair of skinny jeans, as well, pairing it with a white long sleeve top under a red and grey plaid long sleeve button-down shirt. Rather than the UGGS of last week, Jen had opted for a pair of ankle booties with a slight heel, a pair of cozy socks keeping her feet warm underneath.
“So,” Ian said, snapping Jen out of her momentary haze. “What do you think?” he asked, twirling as he entered the room as if he were a runway model.
Jen jumped up, snapping herself back to reality, and stood in awe of what she saw.
“Wow,” she said, walking closer to Ian to get a closer look. “A wig?” she asked, her eyes first going to the headpiece Ian had worn this evening.
“Too much?” Ian asked, nervously patting at it.
“No, no,” Jen said. “It suits you,” she said. “And oh my word,” she said, putting her hand to mouth in genuine shock. “Heels?”
Ian laughed. “Yeah, I mean, doesn’t every girl need a pair of heels?” he asked, showing them off.
“You went out and bought a pair of heels this week?” Jen asked.
“I kind of sort of already had them,” Ian admitted, having never really fully explained the depth of his wardrobe to Jen.
Jen laughed. “There’s so much to this side of you that I didn’t know,” she said, continuing to survey Ian’s outfit. “Nylons again, I see?” she asked.
“You know it,” Ian said, again showing off to Jen. “But didn’t you say you were going to wear them, too?” Ian asked.
“I didn’t think you actually would,” Jen said, truthfully. “But you’re a girl of your word, I see,” she said.
“Sure am,” Ian said.
“So, another pizza night?” asked Jen.
“Sure,” Ian said. “We can order some pizza. I was wondering if you might also like to bake some cookies or something?”
“Bake cookies?” Jen asked. “Oh my gosh you ARE just like a soccer mom!” she teased.
“Do you want cookies or not?” Ian said jokingly.
“Let’s bake,” Jen said, walking towards the kitchen as Ian motioned.
Ian’s heels clanked along the hardwood floor as they made their way to the kitchen, echoing against the walls and filling the entire apartment with the noise.
“You’re going to regret those heels when you fall and twist your ankle,” Jen joked.
“Please,” Ian said, laughing back. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve worn these?”
“Clearly not,” Jen said with a smile as she pulled up a bar stool to the kitchen counter.
The two made small talk as Ian wandered around the kitchen gathering the ingredients, his heels clanking with each step. Much like he had alluded to, though, he did seem like a pro at wearing them, walking in them much more deftly than even some of Jen’s friends did. The two discussed the weather, their work, past mutual friends that they hadn’t seen for some time… It truly was amazing how easily the conversation would flow between the two friends considering they hadn’t seen each other for so long.
After the butter had been melted, the sugar and eggs mixed in, the flour incorporated and the chocolate chips folded in, Ian and Jen began rolling out cookies and placing them on the baking tray, each sneaking in a bite or two of cookie dough when the other wasn’t looking.
“So I have to ask,” Jen began, unsure of how to word her question. “What’s your endgame with this?”
Ian looked confused. “With the cookies?”
“No, no,” Jen said, laughing at herself since her question had indeed come a little out of left field. “I mean with your dressing.”
“Oh,” Ian said, instantly self-conscious again. “What do you mean? Is it starting to repulse you?”
“No, no,” Jen said repeatedly, wanting to reassure Ian that that was not the case at all. “I’ve just never really known anyone like this before,” she said, nervously fidgeting with the pieces of cookie dough stuck to her hand as she spoke. “I was just curious where you saw yourself going with it is all, I guess.”
“Do you mean am I going to have a sex change?” Ian asked, placing the first tray of cookies into the oven and pulling out another tray.
“I mean, I guess that’s one question,” Jen said. “I’m just interested in what you’re thinking.”
Ian took a deep breath. He had long wondered this question - and the host of unasked questions that would likely follow - countless times. It was the whole idea of trying to define what he was. Or what he wasn’t. And he never knew how to explain it, even to himself.
“Well, first, I can tell you there are no surgeries planned for me in the future,” he confirmed.
“Is it just dressing then?” Jen asked.
“Yes and no, I guess,” Ian said, struggling to find the right words himself now. “I mean, listen, do I think I would have made a better woman than a man? Absolutely. How many other men have you known that would willingly sit and watch Hallmark Christmas movies with you?”
“Touché,” Jen said, nodding her head.
“Or how many men would not only not balk at the idea of going to the mall with you but would actually provide thought and input into your shopping decisions?” he asked.
“You’ve made your point,” Jen said with a laugh. “You always have been more in touch with your feminine side than most, even when we dated,” she said. “It was actually one of your more endearing qualities, I thought,” she said.
Ian laughed. “Well, thanks,” he said. “You have no idea how many times people haven’t found that to be endearing.. But anyways, despite feeling I would have made a better woman than a man, no, I don’t ever intend on changing anything about myself in that regard. I’m too committed to Ian at this point,” he said.
Jen nodded, unsure of what to say.
“Not to mention the cost,” Ian joked.
“So you’ve looked into it?” Jen asked.
“Briefly,” Ian admitted. “Like maybe if I ever won the lottery or something, ya know? But it’s not in the cards.”
“So what is in the cards, then?” Jen asked.
“I don’t know,” Ian said, rolling the cookies with a little more fervor now as he struggled to find answers. “Listen, a week ago, I would have thought that just doing this with someone would have been my goal,” he admitted. “And it is. I’ve never really thought about anything beyond this, to be honest.”
“I helped you reach your goal?” Jen asked, smiling.
“I guess you did,” Ian said, smiling back.
“I’ve always been helping you, since way back,” she said with a laugh.
“Listen, I aced Algebra class on my own, thank you very much,” Ian said with a laugh, flicking a bit of cookie dough in Jen’s direction.
“So I guess we need to keep doing this then?” Jen said, looking at Ian for a reaction.
“Making cookies?” Ian asked.
“No,” Jen said, flicking the cookie dough back. “This,” she said, motioning around her. “Our girls’ nights.”
“Oh,” Ian said, unable to contain his smile. “I guess we need to then,” he said. He looked at Jen who smiled back. “Thank you,” he said.
“Oh hush,” she said, brushing off the moment of sentimentality with her hand. “It’s nice,” she said. “But if we’re going to be just a couple of girlfriends, should I call you something other than Ian?”
“You mean like a name?”
“Duh,” she said with a laugh as she watched Ian’s face grow red. “You already have one picked out, don’t you?”
“Maybe,” he said.
“Let’s hear it.”
“Staci?”
“Perfect,” Jen said, clapping her hands together. “I actually really like that name,” she said. “From now on, you’re Staci during our girls’ nights and Ian every other time. Deal?”
“Deal,” Ian said with a smile, just as the buzzer sounded announcing the first batch of cookies to be complete.
“Should I get the milk?” Jen asked.
“These are for dessert, silly,” Ian said. “Don’t forget the pizza.”
The two continued to bond as if it were old times, Jen now referring to Ian solely as Staci - Stace, for short - and the two interacting as seamlessly as if they actually were two girlfriends sharing an evening together.
Eventually, the pizza arrived - one extra cheese and one pepperoni - and the two grabbed some glasses of wine and wolfed down the pizza, baking the cookies working up quite an appetite for the two of them. Amazingly, the two had been baking cookies and chatting in the kitchen for almost three hours at that point.
“Man, I need a break,” Jen said, finishing off her glass of wine as she headed back towards the living room and plopping into the sofa. “And I have no idea how you’re still standing in those heels,” she said, watching as Staci sat down on the opposite end of the sofa, crossing her legs.
“Maybe they were a bit much,” Staci admitted, flexing her ankle. “But worth it, no?” she said with a laugh.
“Totally,” laughed Jen back, as she had privately been sneaking glimpses of how the heels had accentuated Staci’s legs all night. “So I’ll let you in on a little secret,” she said, clearing room in the middle of the sofa. “The absolute best part of wearing heels all day is having a friend give you a relaxing foot massage after,” she said, patting her lap and motioning for Staci to plop her feet up there.
Staci smiled, not even realizing that that had been exactly what the doctor had ordered at this point, and she slipped her feet out of the heels for the first time all night before pausing.
“What?” asked Jen, not sure why Staci had paused.
“I know what you’re going to do,” Staci said with a smile, feeling she had uncovered Jen’s machination.
“What?” Jen asked.
“You’re going to tickle me,” Staci said, recalling the events of last week. Indeed, what had happened last week had remained in the back of Staci’s mind all week, when an innocent foot massage had uncovered another secret that Staci had kept hidden from many all this time - that her feet were crazy ticklish. Jen had taken great joy in discovering that about her long-time friend and had made it quite clear that she was not above using Staci’s ticklishness against her should the opportunity arise. And as Staci had lifted her feet to plop them on Jen’s lap, Staci recognized the opportunity.
Jen laughed. “Oh my gosh, that’s too cute,” she said. “I’m not going to tickle you, you dork. I’m going to rub your feet,” she said, again patting her lap to motion Staci’s feet over.
“I don’t know if I believe you,” Staci said, the internal dilemma of what to do with her feet clearly spelled out on her face.
“I’m just going to rub your feet,” Jen said. “If you’re so ticklish that it tickles, that’s on you, not me,” she said, reaching down and grabbing Staci’s ankle to pull it on her lap. “Let’s see the other one,” she said.
Staci paused for a moment, realizing what was about to happen. She would be placing herself in an incredibly vulnerable situation, leaving both of her feet on Jen’s lap with nothing but the pair of nylons covering them - nylons that Staci had found out last week that did nothing but increase one’s level of ticklishness ten-fold, making the possibility that this foot massage would do anything but tickle quite remote. Still, though, Staci’s feet were sore, those heels having done a number on her while they were baking cookies, and Jen was someone in whom Staci clearly placed a lot of trust. Despite all bases of logic telling her otherwise, Staci swiveled on the couch and placed her second foot in Jen’s lap, nestling in the couch to get comfortable.
“Don’t tickle,” Staci said, pointing an accusatory finger at Jen before she even began.
“Will you relax?” Jen asked with a laugh, finding Staci’s paranoia of being tickled too cute for words. She took hold of Staci’s feet with her hands.
Staci instinctively jolted as her body registered the touch, the mere act of Jen’s hands making contact with her feet providing a far more ticklish response than Staci had anticipated.
“Don’t tickle,” Staci repeated through giggles as she re-adjusted herself after her ticklish twitch, her face turning slightly red in embarrassment to her response.
“Oh my gosh, girl,” Jen said with a laugh. “Literally all I did was grab your feet.”
“Well,” Staci said, pausing as she realized that Jen’s words were true and wondering how she was going to make it through this foot massage. “Just be careful,” she cautioned. “Don’t tickle,” she reiterated.
“You’re too cute,” Jen said with a laugh as she watched Staci’s face grow redder and redder. “Just sit back and relax, will you?”
“I’ll try,” Staci said with a laugh, resting her head on the couch pillow behind her. “I’m actually looking forward to this,” she confessed, trying to reset her mind away from the possibility of the potential tickle.
“Good,” said Jen as she readied to start again.
“I never realized what it felt like to wear he-he-he-he…” Staci started before being overcome with a giggling fit and squirming on the sofa. “I said don’t tickle!” she begged, her body reacting the instant Jen’s hands touched the bottom of her feet again.
“Oh my gosh!” Jen said with a laugh, releasing hold of Staci’s feet. “Does it really tickle that much?” she asked, almost in awe that someone could have such a reaction to so little a touch.
“YES!” Staci said emphatically, taking a deep breath and brushing the hair away from her face as she regrouped. “Why do you think I’m laughing so much?” she asked, as if needing to provide evidence.
“I never knew you were so ticklish,” Jen said with a smile, briefly thinking about how much more fun she could have had with Ian back when they were together.
“Yeah, well,” Staci said, not sure exactly what to say. “It’s not exactly something you go out and advertise, right?”
“Well, the secret is out now, right?” said Jen with a wink.
“NO!” Staci said with emphasis. “You can’t let anyone else know,” she urged.
“Why not?” Jen asked, a little taken aback at Staci’s insistence.
“It’s embarrassing,” Staci admitted sheepishly. “Guys aren’t supposed to be this ticklish,” she expanded.
“Maybe,” said Jen, “but you’re one of the girls, no? You’re Staci, right?”
“Yeah,” said Staci, having never really thought about it like that.
“So, like, if my sister found out Staci was ticklish,” Jen said, explaining her reasoning, “it would totally be nothing.”
“Really?” asked Staci.
“Oh, she would probably tickle you at every opportunity she could,” Jen said with a laugh, correcting herself. “But that’s just because that’s what girls do. I just mean it wouldn’t be this big thing,” she explained.
“Hmmm,” said Staci, considering it over.
“I mean, not that it’s a big thing that Ian is ticklish, either,” she further explained. “Just that I can understand why you’d be hesitant to show it. But if you’re worried about how things look, believe me, it would be more bizarre to people if Staci wasn’t ticklish.”
“OK,” Staci said. “It’s still a secret that Ian is ticklish. But I guess it’s not the end of the world if people know Staci is ticklish,” she said.
“Deal,” said Jen, nodding her head in approval and happy that she was apparently able to make another element of this whole thing seem more normal for her friend. “I’m glad you feel better about it.”
“I do, actually,” Staci said. “It almost felt liberating actually admitting it for once instead of trying to hide it.”
“See?” said Jen.
“You have no idea how difficult it is to hide it,” Staci confessed. “When we were dating, you used to tickle my feet and you have no idea how close I was to breaking,” Staci confessed.
“Really??” Jen asked, bummed that she had been so close to finding out about this so many years earlier. “Dang. I would usually only stop because I figured payback was coming my way,” she said with a laugh.
Staci laughed, remembering how many times the current situation has been reversed and it was Jen in the vulnerable position. “I almost flat out told you a couple of times just to finally stop having to hide it,” Staci admitted.
“Why didn’t you??” Jen asked.
“I didn’t know how you’d react to it,” Staci admitted.
“Oh gosh, girl,” Jen said, shaking her head in disbelief. “I’dve eaten it up. Are you kidding? That would have been so cute.”
“If only…” sang Staci with a laugh.
“Well, now I know your weakness,” said Jen with a sinister smile, “so I get to make up for lost time.”
Staci laughed.
“What?” asked Jen.
“I’m not sure I’d call it a weakness,” Staci said.
Jen raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Are you kidding, girl?” she asked. “Trust me. This most definitely qualifies as a weakness of yours.”
“I mean,” Staci said, finding that she had to defend herself a little here. “I’m ticklish, but I don’t think I’d consider it a weakness, necessarily.”
“Sweetie,” Jen said reassuringly. “I mean this with the utmost respect so please don’t be offended, but I’ve babysat kids who aren’t as ticklish as you are,” she said with a smile.
“Shut up!” Staci said with a laugh, not offended at all by Jen’s comment. “There’s no way that’s true,” she said in disbelief.
“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Jen said with a laugh. “Listen, it’s not a bad thing at all,” Jen said reassuringly. “I think it’s an endearing quality of yours, actually,” she said truthfully. “But there is no denying that it is absolutely a major weakness of yours.”
“Well,” Staci said, “We’ll have to agree to disagree, I guess.”
“Really?” said Jen with a raised eyebrow.
“What?” asked Staci, not sure what Jen was thinking.
But Jen WAS thinking. And she was already thinking a few steps ahead of Staci, whose feet still lay in their vulnerable position on Jen’s lap. Jen re-positioned herself on the sofa, stretching one of her legs so that it was above the other, dropping it back down across Staci’s ankles, effectively putting Staci’s ankles in a scissor-lock, preventing Staci from pulling her legs away.
“Jen? What are you-” Staci asked, a pit forming in her stomach as she feared the worst, visions of last week moving to the front of her memory now.
“Just a test,” said Jen innocently, smiling at Staci as she realized she had her friend trapped.
“Jen, don’t you dare,” warned Staci, unable to even bring herself to complete the sentence.
“You brought this on yourself,” said Jen as she clamped her legs with more force.
“I told you I’m ticklish!” Staci said, trying to pull her legs away while also reason with Jen.
“No, I know,” Jen said. “But everyone is ticklish,” she continued. “And those who are JUST ticklish can handle a little tickling from time to time,” Jen said softly. “But for those for whom ticklish is a weakness,” Jen continued, maintaining eye contact with Staci. “Well, they’d do anything to get the tickling to stop,” she concluded with a smile.
“Jen, no,” Staci pleaded, fearing what was to come. Sure, she talked a tough game, but she knew deep down that Jen was probably right. Though she didn’t have the comparison data that Jen apparently had, Staci knew there was likely no way that she was “just” ticklish. She hadn’t exaggerated in the least how much Jen’s mere touching of her feet as she began the massage had tickled. That wasn’t being “just” ticklish. That was some serious, off-the-charts, Major League level ticklishness. And Jen apparently wasn’t even trying to tickle at the time.
“What’s the matter, Stace?” Jen asked with a smile. “If it’s not a weakness, you should be able to easily handle this.”
“Handle what?” Staci asked, not sure the extent of what Jen had planned. “I’m clearly ticklish. Don’t do th-AH HA HA,” Staci spasmed as she felt the tip of one of Jen’s fingernails glide up along the bottom of her trapped foot.
“Oh, you’re clearly ticklish, all right,” Staci said with a laugh. “And that was just one finger,” she said, holding the finger in question in the air.
“Yes, I am!” Staci said, tugging at her legs to no avail. “I admit it. Now let me go! Damn, how are your legs so strong?” she asked, in disbelief that she couldn’t pull her legs free from Jen’s grasp.
“Leg day four days a week at the gym,” Jen said with a smile, happy that her dedication to her fitness was serving to her advantage at the moment. “Ready to admit it’s a weakness yet?” Jen asked, showing her finger off again.
Staci was at a cross-roads. On one hand, the logical side of her said, sure, admit that it’s a weakness. There’s no denying it. Any impartial bystander witnessing what was going on would without a doubt categorize Staci’s ticklishness as a weakness. It would be foolish to say otherwise. On the other hand, this was about more than just logic. This was about pride. Staci’s and Jen’s friendship had always been built around these types of things - trying to “one-up” the other. It wouldn’t just be admitting that it’s a weakness. It would be admitting that Jen was right. And doing that was something Staci would do whatever she could to avoid.
“I really don’t see why you think it’s a weakness,” Staci said, not wanting to commit an answer to the affirmative or negative.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Jen said with a smile, bringing her one finger closer to Staci’s foot.
“No, come on, Jen, don’t, do-oo-oo-ah-ah,” Staci said, losing her stream of words as the tip of Jen’s finger made contact with her foot. “Cut it out,” she eeked out amongst the giggles. “It tickles!”
“Of course it tickles,” said Jen. “I’m tickling you,” she said, stating the obvious. It really wasn’t MUCH of a tickle, to be honest; Jen was just slowly, lightly dragging that one fingertip up and down the bottom of Staci’s sole. But it was effective, with Staci a giggling mess trying to pull her legs free from Jen’s death-lock. “It really tickles a lot, huh?” Jen asked, though the answer to the question was both obvious and mind-boggling at the same time; clearly, it tickled Staci a lot given her response, but how could just a single little finger tickle someone so much?
“YES!” shouted Staci through her giggling. “You know I’m ticklish! Cut it out!!”
“Oh, I know you’re ticklish,” Jen said, never once letting her finger lose contact with the nylons that were covering Staci’s sole. “What I want to know is whether or not you would go so far as to consider this a weakness of yours,” she reminded.
“Oh my God, just stop!” Staci pleaded.
“Stop?” Jen laughed. “Girl, I could do this a-l-l n-i-g-h-t,” she said, dragging out the words for emphasis.
“No!” pleaded Staci, still giggling uncontrollably as Jen’s finger wreaked havoc on the bottom of her foot. “Just please st-AHP!” she begged, her words increasing an octave - or ten - as Jen’s finger traced along a certain spot on her foot.
“What was that?” asked Jen, taken aback by Staci’s sudden paroxysm.
“Nothing,” Staci said quickly, recognizing that Jen’s wandering fingertip had stumbled upon a spot on Staci’s foot that was way more ticklish than the rest. “Just let me go,” she said, hoping Jen would dismiss her mini-outburst.
“No, that was definitely something,” Jen said, smiling. “I think I just found your BIGGEST weakness,” she said with a knowing smile.
“I told you, it’s not a weakness,” Staci said, holding firm to her convictions despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary.
“It’s OK,” Jen said, reassuredly. “I just found your spot, is all.”
“Spot?” Staci asked, confused.
“Every girl has a spot that is just insanely ticklish,” Jen said, playing the role of teacher. “EVERY girl,” she said for emphasis. “I have one. Sarah has one. My sister has one. Everyone has one,” she reiterated. “It’s just a spot that’s usually already super ticklish to begin with but there’s one area within that super ticklish spot that’s just through-the-roofs ticklish,” she explained, making the motion of a roof exploding with her hands in the air. “And I just found yours,” she concluded, sticking her tongue out in victory.
“Listen,” Staci said, recognizing what Jen had said was true but not wanting to give credence to it. “Just let me go now, OK? You’ve had your fun.”
“Oh, the fun is just getting started,” Jen said with a slight laugh. “Now, that spot was somewhere over here, right?” she asked, pretending as if she didn’t know the precise coordinates of the spot that had caused Staci to almost jump off the couch.
“DON’T!” Staci said, trying to back it up with as much bravado as she could.
“I wonder how long you’ll last…” Jen said, wondering aloud as she ignored Staci’s pleas.
“Last with what?” Staci asked.
“I wonder how long it will take with my little finger tracing over that spot of yours non-stop before you’re begging for mercy,” she said, an evil smile on her face.
“You’re crazy,” Staci said with a laugh, which quickly turned into even more laughs as Jen’s finger made contact with the bottom of Staci’s foot again - fortunately, not directly on the spot before, but close enough.
“Oh, I’m the crazy one?” teased Jen, her finger tracing lightly along the bottom of Staci’s foot as if purposely avoiding that spot. “You’re the one squirming all around and laughing over there over nothing, but I’M the crazy one?” she joked.
“YOU’RE TICKLING ME!” Staci shouted through the laughter, as if needing to explain the reason for her current behavior.
“You just have to admit it’s a weakness and it could be all over,” Jen said, repeating the same exit strategy she had said before.
“It’s not a weakness,” Staci struggled to say through her laughter.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Jen said with a smile, moving her exploring finger over to the spot on Staci’s foot that had gotten the better of her before, “because now that means I can…”
But Jen couldn’t finish her sentence. Her finger had already landed on the spot in question, and Staci’s high-pitched shriek had caught even Jen by surprise. Staci’s body jolted as if it had been electrocuted and what had been a constant flutter of laughter and giggling before had now turned to maniacal howls of laughter.
“Good thing this isn’t a weakness…” Jen teased as she watched her friend flail and convulse as Jen’s finger tormented the tender area.
Staci tried to respond but couldn’t get the words past her laughter, her entire body now consumed with the ticklish torment.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Jen asked, again taking great joy in the torment she was causing her friend. “I can’t hear you through your laughter.”
Staci again tried to respond, but now she had fallen into silent laughter, her face still frozen in ticklish agony despite no sound coming out of her open mouth.
Jen saw her friend’s body losing strength, succumbing to the ticklish assault her one finger was dishing out, and decided - briefly - to have mercy, moving her finger off of the dreaded spot and instead delivering a much lighter tickle, allowing Staci to catch her breath.
“It’s a weakness!” Staci shouted out as soon as her body could muster up the resources to form the words, though they were still strewn amongst the laughter that was still coming from within. “It’s a weakness, OK? It’s a weakness!!”
“I’m sorry, what?” Jen asked, pretending as if she couldn’t understand her friend’s words. “I’m afraid I can’t understand you with all that laughter,” she said with a laugh.
“Oh my word! Staci shouted in exasperation. “Stop tickling my feet for two seconds and THEN you can understand me.”
“Oh,” Jen said, pretending to only just now realize that she had been tickling her friend’s feet. “I’m sorry. It was just one finger. I didn’t even realize it was tickling you,” she lied, smiling at her friend.
“Yeah right,” Staci said, not buying her friend’s facade.
“So I’m sorry, what were you saying before?” Jen asked, wanting to hear Staci admit the obvious.
Staci sighed heavily, realizing that this was her only possible way out. There was nothing else she could do. She had been taken aback at the strength of Jen’s legs and their ability to hold Staci’s ankles in place, essentially leaving Staci’s feet trapped and completely at Jen’s mercy. As much as Staci hated to admit it - hated to admit that Jen had been right - Staci knew it was the only option.
“You were right,” Staci began, forcing the words out against years of habit of avoiding those words. “It’s a weakness. It’s my weakness,” she said, hoping that this would signal the end of her torment.
It didn’t.
“What’s a weakness?” Jen asked, playing dumb.
“Ugh!” Staci yelled in play-annoyance, knowing full-well that had the roles been reversed, she would have been relishing in it just as much as Jen was currently. “Being ticklish is a weakness of mine,” she said - straight and to the point - hoping that Jen was satisfied.
Nope.
“Oh my gosh, is it?” Jen asked, pretending to be flabbergasted at Staci’s claim. “Why?” she said, twisting the dagger in even more. “How ticklish are you, girl?”
Staci looked at Jen in disbelief, not believing that they were really playing this game but knowing she was powerless to put an end to it. “I am quite ticklish, as a matter of fact,” Staci said, a smile forming on her mouth as she said the words.
Making such an admission was never something she would have ever considered as Ian. She had trained herself for years to hide any inclination that Ian was ticklish. Looking away. Biting his lip. Anything to make it seem like everything was cool. But Jen had been right earlier. What difference did it really make? Everyone was ticklish, no? Even still, though, it helped immensely that this was Staci making such an admission and not Ian.
“Quite ticklish, huh?” Jen asked, sensing that Staci was becoming more comfortable in her skin the more they talked. “And what’s your most ticklish spot?” she asked with a smile.
“Really?” Staci asked with a laugh. “This is really something you’d ask one of your girlfriends?”
“No,” Jen said, “but I already know all my girlfriends' most ticklish spots,” she said with a laugh. “But this is totally something I would ask a new girlfriend.”
Staci smiled, the notion of Jen seeing her as a “girlfriend” making her more at ease. “Well, if you must know,” Staci said shyly, “it’s my feet.”
“Oooh,” Jen said, though she was already pretty sure that was the case based on Staci’s reactions. “These feet here, huh?” she asked, pointing to Staci’s still-trapped soles.
“Mmm hmmm,” Staci said, confirming.
“You know what they say about ticklish feet mixed with nylons, right?” Jen asked, harkening back to their conversation last week.
“Ahm, yeah,” Staci said, recollecting the same conversation. “A friend told me about it recently,” she said with a smile.
“Smart friend,” Jen said, drawing a laugh out of Staci. “Was she right?”
“Oh my word, yeah,” Staci said, shocking herself at how easily the admission had come. “I mean,” she said, collecting herself, “my feet are definitely way more ticklish in nylons.”
“So let me think about this for a second here,” Jen said, deep in thought. “Your feet are your most ticklish spot - so ticklish that you’d go so far as to say it’s your weakness, right? - and by your own admission, those same feet are even MORE ticklish when they have nylons on, right?”
“Y-yes,” Staci stammered, not sure where Jen was going with this. “What do you -”
“So you could say I have you in a very vulnerable position right now, no?” Jen said with a smile.
Staci’s smile faded, realizing that Jen apparently wasn’t finished yet. She tugged at her legs, trying in vain to pull them free, but Jen’s grip was simply too strong. “Jen, no,” Staci said. “I already said -”.
“No, I know you already said it was your weakness,” Jen said. “I’m just curious what else I can get out of you.”
“Come on,” Staci said, knowing full well the enormous disadvantage she was in. “You’ve already had your fun.”
“Pull your legs all you want, girl,” Jen laughed. “They ain’t going anywhere.” Jen looked warmly at her friend, the tugging of the legs stopping as Staci realized that Jen was right. “So I’m curious now…” Jen began.
“What?” Staci asked.
“Could I get you to pay for the pizza next week by tickling you?” she asked, bringing her finger back up in the air.
“YES!” shouted Staci, seeing the finger poised and knowing its capabilities. “I’ll totally buy the pizza next week. Just no more tickling!”
“Oooooh,” Jen said with a laugh. “I didn’t even need to tickle you to get you to agree to that??” she asked, surprised. “Just the mere THREAT of a tickle is enough to get you to cave?”
“It’s not worth it,” Staci said, truthfully. She would have gladly paid for the pizza regardless, just for the opportunity to have another night like this, but the threat of a tickle DID make her even more willing.
“And we can get mushroom pizza?” Jen asked, an eyebrow raised.
“Ewww,” Staci said, hating mushroom pizza. Her mood instantly turned, though, as Jen raised her finger again, threatening the tickle. “YES!” Staci yelled, hoping to catch Jen before her finger moved closer. “Yes. Mushroom pizza it is.”
“Oh my gosh, girl,” Jen said, shocked that it was apparently so easy to coax Staci into whatever she wanted. “I can’t believe this. You’re that powerless against tickling?” she asked, making sure to choose her words carefully enough to make them as embarrassing as possible.
Staci’s face turned a little red. “My feet are just really, really ticklish,” she said softly, as if needing to explain to Jen the reasoning. Staci couldn’t believe how freely she was admitting this to her friend, though. Just a few weeks ago, Ian would have done - and WAS doing - everything in his power to hide the fact that he was so ticklish. This current predicament would have been his worst nightmare come true. But, somehow - despite obviously not truly enjoying the situation, per se - Staci didn’t mind this little game she was playing with Jen. Though every second of it tormented her to no end as it was going on, Staci knew she was sure to look back on this and smile when it was all over. Jen was taking advantage of the fact that her friend Staci was ticklish. It was something that Ian had seen Jen do to countless other girlfriends throughout the years. In a way, then, this was almost serving as a “welcome” session to the land of girlfriends, from Jen to Staci.
“I’d say they are,” Jen said with a smile. “But now I’m wondering…”
“What?” asked Staci, dreading what was coming next.
“Are they more ticklish than mine?” Jen asked.
“No way!” Staci said quickly, the ol’ competitive nature of the friendship shining through again - that, plus, while Ian had been able to keep the level of his ticklishness under wraps, Jen had never been as fortunate, and the extent of her ticklishness was well known to many. Jen’s feet, historically, had always been known as her “spot”, as she liked to call it earlier. Staci remembered countless times Jen’s college roommate Sarah poking fun at Jen for losing her mind laughing in the pedicurist’s chair. Unless Jen had somehow come up with a formula to reduce how ticklish her feet were, there was simply no way Staci’s feet were more ticklish than Jen’s.
Right?
“Really?” Jen asked, an eyebrow arched. “Because I have a little finger here that says that they are.”
“NO!” Staci pleaded, realizing Jen’s end game - the ultimate indignation, admitting to not only being ticklish and not only to it being your weakness but admitting to being more ticklish than Jen.
“Just admit your feet are more ticklish than mine,” Jen said, relishing the power and control she had over her friend.
“There’s no way my feet are more ticklish than yours,” Staci said adamantly, though internally, she wasn’t as sure as she once would have been. Sure, Ian had always been ticklish, and if this were Ian against Jen, then there is no way Ian would even consider for a second that he was more ticklish than Jen. Close, maybe, but no way moreso. But this wasn’t Ian. This was Staci. And being Staci had somehow changed Ian a little, perhaps made him a little softer. Had cut down a few levels of that fortress that Ian had built against being ticklish. She hadn’t realized it at the time, of course, but Staci admitting to being ticklish earlier had almost, in a way, made her even MORE ticklish - the simple act of finally accepting the fact unleashing the burden held for so many years. So no, Ian wasn’t likely to be more ticklish than Jen, but Staci, on the other hand…
And that’s, of course, without even considering the nylons. She had only been tickled in nylons twice, but it was already more than enough for Staci to know that she was especially helpless when she had nylons on - that her level of ticklishness increased to just astronomical levels. Staci wasn’t sure if she had believed Jen last week when she first mentioned it, but there was no doubting it now; Staci’s feet were simply insanely ticklish when they had nylons on and she was defenseless against any sort of tickle attack.
“No way your feet are more ticklish than mine?” Jen asked with a little laugh. “Why don’t we see about that, huh?” she said, raising her finger again.
“NO!” Staci pleaded. “This isn’t fair. I have nylons on and you still have your shoes on!” she protested, as if Jen would have considered altering things to make it a fairer fight.
“I guess that’s good for me and bad for you,” Jen teased. “Of course, you could always not force this fate upon yourself if you’d just admit that your feet are more ticklish than mine,” she reminded.
“I can’t do that!” Staci replied. “Put nylons on and let me tickle your feet and THEN we’ll see if you’re so confident!”
Jen laughed. “I’ve got thick, thick socks on today, girl,” she boasted. “Maximum protection against tickle attacks. You, on the other hand,” she said, changing her tone, “well, by your own admission, you’re in a very vulnerable spot right now, aren’t you?”
“Jen, come on!” Staci pleaded, pulling in vain again at her legs. “You win, OK? My feet are super ticklish, ok?”
“Girl,” Jen said with a laugh. “We’re way past that point right now. I know your feet are super ticklish. You know what I want to hear.”
“They’re insanely ticklish,” Staci said, willing to admit to basically anything BUT the words Jen wanted to hear. “OK? Super insanely ticklish. My feet are so, so ticklish and I’m sorry for ever hiding it from you,” she begged.
“Say. The. Words,” Jen said, holding to her demands.
“I…” started Staci, debating internally about what to do. “I can’t,” she said, realizing she was sealing her fate.
“Suit yourself,” said Jen, “but I’ve got a whole hand that thinks your feet are more ticklish than mine,” she said, displaying all of her fingers now.
Staci’s eyes shot open. To this point, she hadn’t considered Jen using more than one finger. Sure, it was foolish to think that way, but Jen’s entire attack thus far had been waged with just the one finger. And quite clearly, one finger had been enough to reduce Staci to her current defenseless state; what would an entire hand do?
“WAIT, NO!” screamed Staci, hoping for one more reprieve, though none would come. Jen’s fingers had begun dancing across Staci’s trapped soles already, the five digits completely overwhelming Staci and sending her into complete and total hysteria instantly. Staci bucked and pulled, squirmed and wiggled, but there was no getting out of her predicament. Jen had her trapped tightly, making escape impossible even before adding in the handicap of being tickled on top of it.
Jen smiled as she watched her friend laughing hysterically on the couch. Though she was living it, a portion of her still couldn’t believe what she was witnessing. Sure, she knew Ian to be ticklish back in the day when they were dating, but never… never like this. Staci was consumed in laughter, unable to even open her eyes as her body tried to fight against the ticklish sensations entering through the bottom of her feet. For Jen, it was slowly changing from a “How could Ian be this ticklish?” question to a “How could anyone in the world be this ticklish?” question.
Jen took great delight in tormenting her friend, alternating tactics in her attack, never once staying on one spot for too long. Every now and then, Jen would let one of her fingers wander a little, just enough for it to make contact with that spot on the bottom of Staci’s foot. Staci’s body would jerk each time, instinctively dreading what was about to come, though Jen would only tease it. Jen hadn’t even really needed to exploit Staci’s spot to reduce her to such a giggling mess. And Jen loved that.
Staci, on the other hand, was doing anything BUT loving this. She was desperately trying to say the words that Jen had wanted to hear - that Staci’s feet were more ticklish than hers - but words completely escaped her. The laughter had consumed her entire body and no words were able to escape. She couldn’t even eek out a meager “No!” or “Stop!”; it was nothing but pure, 100% laughter.
Just as Jen was shocked at how ticklish Staci was, so, too, was Staci, to an extent. Ian had long hidden the extent of his ticklishness, but had doing so left Ian with an inaccurate gauge of how ticklish he was? How much of this was Ian and how much of this was Staci? And how could wearing nylons increase how ticklish someone’s feet were at least ten-fold like they did?
Jen tickled away, watching Staci fall deeper and deeper into laughter. It was a welcome sight for Jen. Staci’s thoughts were spot-on. Jen was ticklish. Incredibly so. Growing up, Jen had usually been unofficially tagged with the “Most Ticklish of the Group” award in whatever group she was with, the unfortunate recipient of many a poke from passing friends. Just as it was a weakness for Staci, it was an absolute weakness for Jen, as well - one that friends and family were all willing to take advantage of. It had started with her mother, growing up - the simple, motherly tickles that one would receive. Her younger sister soon turned to be her most ruthless tickler, relishing the fact that she could render her older sister completely helpless with a simple tickle. Jen had been coerced into revealing countless secrets, taking on umpteen additional chores, and serving as a caddy for her sister’s friends innumerable times, all the result of a well-timed tickle attack from her younger sister. Jen thought she would outgrow it as she grew older, but that was not the case; if anything, it only increased, as Jen took advantage of more and more skin moisturizers and the like. So though it wasn’t anything like growing up in high school or college, Jen knew she was taking a calculated risk in taking off her shoes around anyone who might remember how ticklish she was. With that in mind, it was nice to find someone who might rival Jen and possibly share in the tickle attacks.
As Jen mused of the situation, Staci was losing more and more control, her laughter now silent once again as her body struggled to keep up with the tickling. Jen slowed her tickling a touch, giving Staci the opening to finally gasp out “OK OK OK” amidst the laughter.
“Have something to say?” Jen asked, reducing her all-out tickle attack to simply dragging one finger up and down the bottom of Staci’s foot now.
“I’m more ticklish! I’m more ticklish!” Staci shouted, completely broken of her resolve to not admit those very words.
“Why, whatever do you mean?” Jen asked, looking to prolong this as much as she could.
“GAH!” Staci shouted, just wanting the torment to be over already. “My feet are more ticklish than yours, OK?” she admitted. “There. My feet are insanely ticklish and are more ticklish than yours. I admit it,” Staci said, now willing to say anything to get Jen to stop the tickling.
“There. Was that so hard?” Jen laughed, no longer dragging her finger down Staci’s foot. “But girl, no joke,” Jen said, trying to seem serious. “You might just be the most ticklish person I know,” she said, finally releasing her Vulcan grip on Staci’s ankles.
Staci pulled her feet to safety as soon as she could, still trying to catch her breath from all the laughing. “Shut up!” Staci laughed.
“It’s true,” Jen said, smoothing out her clothes after Staci had been squirming around all over the place. “I’ve always thought it was my sister but you’re definitely giving her some competition.”
“Oh my gosh,” Staci said, her face once again red.
“No, no,” Jen said, sensing her words had caused some embarrassment for Staci. “It’s a good thing. Really. It’s cute. Very feminine,” she said with a smile.
“Thanks,” Staci said shyly.
“But just so you know,” Jen whispered, leaning in. “I plan on taking advantage of this whenever I can,” she said with a smile.
“Are we in a tickle war?” laughed Staci.
“Totally,” agreed Jen.
Happy New Year to all.
This is a little piece I worked on before the holiday and then kind of just sat on, not sure whether I should post it or not. It's the second story about a crossdressing male and his friend. As I mentioned in the first installment, though the story is entirely fictional, its roots are in reality, which makes it difficult to share.
I do plan to continue with this series some. Even if there is not an appetite for this sort of thing here, I'll write a few more chapters and keep them to myself. With that in mind, this installment contains a fairly good amount of character development.
I hope you enjoy it!
Happy reading,
OldEnglish
A Little Ditty About Ian and Jen (f/cd-m, nylons)
Ian and Jen: Chapter Two (f-cd/m, nylons)
For the second time in as many weekends, Ian stared at himself in the mirror, entirely unable to believe that life had landed him in his current position. Long a closeted cross-dresser who had struggled internally over the ethical dilemma society had placed on those of this persuasion, a simple lapse in judgment - leaving a pair of black flats in plan view of a visitor - had resulted in Ian’s worst nightmare come true - someone in “real life” knowing about this secret side of his. Worse, still, it had been Jen, an ex-girlfriend of some time ago, who had discovered this clandestine alter-ego of Ian. In terms of any possible “worst case scenarios” Ian could have ever written up, this was at the top of the list.
But life has a funny way about it from time to time, and this was one of those funny moments. Jen hadn’t reacted in horror when she heard. Jen hadn’t jumped on her cell phone to tell all of their old mutual friends. Jen hadn’t even run away. No, Jen hadn’t done any of those things. Jen had welcomed it. Essentially, the only thing Jen had questioned was - ‘Why didn’t you ever tell me before?’
And thus, born out of what Ian had considered his absolute worst nightmare was what Ian considered an unattainable dream, a goal that would never come true: Jen wanted to share this side of Ian with him, to provide an outlet, if you will.
Just last weekend, the two had hung out - just pizza and Netflix - and things had seemed… normal. Jen made it clear that she viewed Ian as just another “girlfriend”, which was all Ian had ever hoped for. As lucky as Ian had counted himself to find someone willing to hang out with this alter-ego of Ian, Ian was floored when Jen suggested this become a regular thing, that she had wanted to do it again. Indeed, Ian had had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.
But dreaming he was not, and here he found himself once again staring at himself in the mirror, overanalyzing every element of his outfit that day, while Jen waited in the living room.
“You know, you take longer than most women to get ready, just so you know,” Jen called from the living room, joking at how long Ian had been gone.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Ian laughed back, without denying the accusation. This was just his second time ever dressing in front of someone else and he wanted to make sure he looked as good as he could.
Pleased with her banter, Jen walked around Ian’s living room, patiently awaiting Ian’s “reveal”. Truthfully, she had come into last weekend without high expectations - how nice could a guy look in women’s clothing, after all? - but she had left pleasantly surprised. True, Ian wasn’t going to be a supermodel or anything like that, but he had looked… good. Certainly with a little bit of work, he could look passable if he had ever wanted to venture out of the house dressed in this way. Truth be told, Jen felt Ian looked better in women’s clothing than a lot of women looked in their clothing. Yes, Ian’s conservative choices lended themselves well with his, uh, situation, but there was also something else about it that Jen just couldn’t quite put her finger on… Something that had left her looking forward to the next time the two would meet like this. And the next time… And the next time… Was it the novelty? Surely Ian was the first man she had seen in women’s clothing before. Maybe it was the new phenomenon of seeing someone one was used to presenting as masculine feeling so comfortable with his feminine side that the look had stuck in Jen’s mind? Was it how well the clothes had looked on Ian? Jen would be lying if she said she hadn’t thought of the sight of Ian’s legs in those skinny jeans last week more than once or twice since…
Ian had remembered how Jen had taken to how his legs looked the previous week and this week chose to again wear a pair of skinny jeans - this time, a more conservative pair, minus the faux rip detail. He stretched his legs in front of the mirror to see how they looked. A slight smile crossed his lips, sign that for the first time ever, he wasn’t entirely self-conscious about this. Much thought had gone into this outfit today. Paired with those skinny jeans was another white camisole - a staple in Ian’s wardrobe - and a pink, form-fitting, cashmere-like sweater. Ian had ordered the sweater online recently and had contemplated sending it back, its length not quite congruous with the height of a man wearing it. Indeed, the sweater alone, without the camisole, would not have been enough for Ian’s conservative look; however, it was simply too cute to send back and the addition of an extra-long camisole made it work. Like last week, a pair of suntan pantyhose provided the perfect accessory, but unlike last week, when he had worn a pair of black flats, Ian instead this week opted to wear a pair of plain black closed-toe pumps, their four-inch heel providing even more height for Ian.
Jen gave herself a quick once-over on her camera phone, utilizing the selfie-camera to adjust her hair ever so slightly. Where she was dressed more for comfort last week, Jen had taken a few extra steps this week, not wanting to be completely outdone by Ian. Rather than the grey leggings of last week, Jen had opted for a pair of skinny jeans, as well, pairing it with a white long sleeve top under a red and grey plaid long sleeve button-down shirt. Rather than the UGGS of last week, Jen had opted for a pair of ankle booties with a slight heel, a pair of cozy socks keeping her feet warm underneath.
“So,” Ian said, snapping Jen out of her momentary haze. “What do you think?” he asked, twirling as he entered the room as if he were a runway model.
Jen jumped up, snapping herself back to reality, and stood in awe of what she saw.
“Wow,” she said, walking closer to Ian to get a closer look. “A wig?” she asked, her eyes first going to the headpiece Ian had worn this evening.
“Too much?” Ian asked, nervously patting at it.
“No, no,” Jen said. “It suits you,” she said. “And oh my word,” she said, putting her hand to mouth in genuine shock. “Heels?”
Ian laughed. “Yeah, I mean, doesn’t every girl need a pair of heels?” he asked, showing them off.
“You went out and bought a pair of heels this week?” Jen asked.
“I kind of sort of already had them,” Ian admitted, having never really fully explained the depth of his wardrobe to Jen.
Jen laughed. “There’s so much to this side of you that I didn’t know,” she said, continuing to survey Ian’s outfit. “Nylons again, I see?” she asked.
“You know it,” Ian said, again showing off to Jen. “But didn’t you say you were going to wear them, too?” Ian asked.
“I didn’t think you actually would,” Jen said, truthfully. “But you’re a girl of your word, I see,” she said.
“Sure am,” Ian said.
“So, another pizza night?” asked Jen.
“Sure,” Ian said. “We can order some pizza. I was wondering if you might also like to bake some cookies or something?”
“Bake cookies?” Jen asked. “Oh my gosh you ARE just like a soccer mom!” she teased.
“Do you want cookies or not?” Ian said jokingly.
“Let’s bake,” Jen said, walking towards the kitchen as Ian motioned.
Ian’s heels clanked along the hardwood floor as they made their way to the kitchen, echoing against the walls and filling the entire apartment with the noise.
“You’re going to regret those heels when you fall and twist your ankle,” Jen joked.
“Please,” Ian said, laughing back. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve worn these?”
“Clearly not,” Jen said with a smile as she pulled up a bar stool to the kitchen counter.
The two made small talk as Ian wandered around the kitchen gathering the ingredients, his heels clanking with each step. Much like he had alluded to, though, he did seem like a pro at wearing them, walking in them much more deftly than even some of Jen’s friends did. The two discussed the weather, their work, past mutual friends that they hadn’t seen for some time… It truly was amazing how easily the conversation would flow between the two friends considering they hadn’t seen each other for so long.
After the butter had been melted, the sugar and eggs mixed in, the flour incorporated and the chocolate chips folded in, Ian and Jen began rolling out cookies and placing them on the baking tray, each sneaking in a bite or two of cookie dough when the other wasn’t looking.
“So I have to ask,” Jen began, unsure of how to word her question. “What’s your endgame with this?”
Ian looked confused. “With the cookies?”
“No, no,” Jen said, laughing at herself since her question had indeed come a little out of left field. “I mean with your dressing.”
“Oh,” Ian said, instantly self-conscious again. “What do you mean? Is it starting to repulse you?”
“No, no,” Jen said repeatedly, wanting to reassure Ian that that was not the case at all. “I’ve just never really known anyone like this before,” she said, nervously fidgeting with the pieces of cookie dough stuck to her hand as she spoke. “I was just curious where you saw yourself going with it is all, I guess.”
“Do you mean am I going to have a sex change?” Ian asked, placing the first tray of cookies into the oven and pulling out another tray.
“I mean, I guess that’s one question,” Jen said. “I’m just interested in what you’re thinking.”
Ian took a deep breath. He had long wondered this question - and the host of unasked questions that would likely follow - countless times. It was the whole idea of trying to define what he was. Or what he wasn’t. And he never knew how to explain it, even to himself.
“Well, first, I can tell you there are no surgeries planned for me in the future,” he confirmed.
“Is it just dressing then?” Jen asked.
“Yes and no, I guess,” Ian said, struggling to find the right words himself now. “I mean, listen, do I think I would have made a better woman than a man? Absolutely. How many other men have you known that would willingly sit and watch Hallmark Christmas movies with you?”
“Touché,” Jen said, nodding her head.
“Or how many men would not only not balk at the idea of going to the mall with you but would actually provide thought and input into your shopping decisions?” he asked.
“You’ve made your point,” Jen said with a laugh. “You always have been more in touch with your feminine side than most, even when we dated,” she said. “It was actually one of your more endearing qualities, I thought,” she said.
Ian laughed. “Well, thanks,” he said. “You have no idea how many times people haven’t found that to be endearing.. But anyways, despite feeling I would have made a better woman than a man, no, I don’t ever intend on changing anything about myself in that regard. I’m too committed to Ian at this point,” he said.
Jen nodded, unsure of what to say.
“Not to mention the cost,” Ian joked.
“So you’ve looked into it?” Jen asked.
“Briefly,” Ian admitted. “Like maybe if I ever won the lottery or something, ya know? But it’s not in the cards.”
“So what is in the cards, then?” Jen asked.
“I don’t know,” Ian said, rolling the cookies with a little more fervor now as he struggled to find answers. “Listen, a week ago, I would have thought that just doing this with someone would have been my goal,” he admitted. “And it is. I’ve never really thought about anything beyond this, to be honest.”
“I helped you reach your goal?” Jen asked, smiling.
“I guess you did,” Ian said, smiling back.
“I’ve always been helping you, since way back,” she said with a laugh.
“Listen, I aced Algebra class on my own, thank you very much,” Ian said with a laugh, flicking a bit of cookie dough in Jen’s direction.
“So I guess we need to keep doing this then?” Jen said, looking at Ian for a reaction.
“Making cookies?” Ian asked.
“No,” Jen said, flicking the cookie dough back. “This,” she said, motioning around her. “Our girls’ nights.”
“Oh,” Ian said, unable to contain his smile. “I guess we need to then,” he said. He looked at Jen who smiled back. “Thank you,” he said.
“Oh hush,” she said, brushing off the moment of sentimentality with her hand. “It’s nice,” she said. “But if we’re going to be just a couple of girlfriends, should I call you something other than Ian?”
“You mean like a name?”
“Duh,” she said with a laugh as she watched Ian’s face grow red. “You already have one picked out, don’t you?”
“Maybe,” he said.
“Let’s hear it.”
“Staci?”
“Perfect,” Jen said, clapping her hands together. “I actually really like that name,” she said. “From now on, you’re Staci during our girls’ nights and Ian every other time. Deal?”
“Deal,” Ian said with a smile, just as the buzzer sounded announcing the first batch of cookies to be complete.
“Should I get the milk?” Jen asked.
“These are for dessert, silly,” Ian said. “Don’t forget the pizza.”
The two continued to bond as if it were old times, Jen now referring to Ian solely as Staci - Stace, for short - and the two interacting as seamlessly as if they actually were two girlfriends sharing an evening together.
Eventually, the pizza arrived - one extra cheese and one pepperoni - and the two grabbed some glasses of wine and wolfed down the pizza, baking the cookies working up quite an appetite for the two of them. Amazingly, the two had been baking cookies and chatting in the kitchen for almost three hours at that point.
“Man, I need a break,” Jen said, finishing off her glass of wine as she headed back towards the living room and plopping into the sofa. “And I have no idea how you’re still standing in those heels,” she said, watching as Staci sat down on the opposite end of the sofa, crossing her legs.
“Maybe they were a bit much,” Staci admitted, flexing her ankle. “But worth it, no?” she said with a laugh.
“Totally,” laughed Jen back, as she had privately been sneaking glimpses of how the heels had accentuated Staci’s legs all night. “So I’ll let you in on a little secret,” she said, clearing room in the middle of the sofa. “The absolute best part of wearing heels all day is having a friend give you a relaxing foot massage after,” she said, patting her lap and motioning for Staci to plop her feet up there.
Staci smiled, not even realizing that that had been exactly what the doctor had ordered at this point, and she slipped her feet out of the heels for the first time all night before pausing.
“What?” asked Jen, not sure why Staci had paused.
“I know what you’re going to do,” Staci said with a smile, feeling she had uncovered Jen’s machination.
“What?” Jen asked.
“You’re going to tickle me,” Staci said, recalling the events of last week. Indeed, what had happened last week had remained in the back of Staci’s mind all week, when an innocent foot massage had uncovered another secret that Staci had kept hidden from many all this time - that her feet were crazy ticklish. Jen had taken great joy in discovering that about her long-time friend and had made it quite clear that she was not above using Staci’s ticklishness against her should the opportunity arise. And as Staci had lifted her feet to plop them on Jen’s lap, Staci recognized the opportunity.
Jen laughed. “Oh my gosh, that’s too cute,” she said. “I’m not going to tickle you, you dork. I’m going to rub your feet,” she said, again patting her lap to motion Staci’s feet over.
“I don’t know if I believe you,” Staci said, the internal dilemma of what to do with her feet clearly spelled out on her face.
“I’m just going to rub your feet,” Jen said. “If you’re so ticklish that it tickles, that’s on you, not me,” she said, reaching down and grabbing Staci’s ankle to pull it on her lap. “Let’s see the other one,” she said.
Staci paused for a moment, realizing what was about to happen. She would be placing herself in an incredibly vulnerable situation, leaving both of her feet on Jen’s lap with nothing but the pair of nylons covering them - nylons that Staci had found out last week that did nothing but increase one’s level of ticklishness ten-fold, making the possibility that this foot massage would do anything but tickle quite remote. Still, though, Staci’s feet were sore, those heels having done a number on her while they were baking cookies, and Jen was someone in whom Staci clearly placed a lot of trust. Despite all bases of logic telling her otherwise, Staci swiveled on the couch and placed her second foot in Jen’s lap, nestling in the couch to get comfortable.
“Don’t tickle,” Staci said, pointing an accusatory finger at Jen before she even began.
“Will you relax?” Jen asked with a laugh, finding Staci’s paranoia of being tickled too cute for words. She took hold of Staci’s feet with her hands.
Staci instinctively jolted as her body registered the touch, the mere act of Jen’s hands making contact with her feet providing a far more ticklish response than Staci had anticipated.
“Don’t tickle,” Staci repeated through giggles as she re-adjusted herself after her ticklish twitch, her face turning slightly red in embarrassment to her response.
“Oh my gosh, girl,” Jen said with a laugh. “Literally all I did was grab your feet.”
“Well,” Staci said, pausing as she realized that Jen’s words were true and wondering how she was going to make it through this foot massage. “Just be careful,” she cautioned. “Don’t tickle,” she reiterated.
“You’re too cute,” Jen said with a laugh as she watched Staci’s face grow redder and redder. “Just sit back and relax, will you?”
“I’ll try,” Staci said with a laugh, resting her head on the couch pillow behind her. “I’m actually looking forward to this,” she confessed, trying to reset her mind away from the possibility of the potential tickle.
“Good,” said Jen as she readied to start again.
“I never realized what it felt like to wear he-he-he-he…” Staci started before being overcome with a giggling fit and squirming on the sofa. “I said don’t tickle!” she begged, her body reacting the instant Jen’s hands touched the bottom of her feet again.
“Oh my gosh!” Jen said with a laugh, releasing hold of Staci’s feet. “Does it really tickle that much?” she asked, almost in awe that someone could have such a reaction to so little a touch.
“YES!” Staci said emphatically, taking a deep breath and brushing the hair away from her face as she regrouped. “Why do you think I’m laughing so much?” she asked, as if needing to provide evidence.
“I never knew you were so ticklish,” Jen said with a smile, briefly thinking about how much more fun she could have had with Ian back when they were together.
“Yeah, well,” Staci said, not sure exactly what to say. “It’s not exactly something you go out and advertise, right?”
“Well, the secret is out now, right?” said Jen with a wink.
“NO!” Staci said with emphasis. “You can’t let anyone else know,” she urged.
“Why not?” Jen asked, a little taken aback at Staci’s insistence.
“It’s embarrassing,” Staci admitted sheepishly. “Guys aren’t supposed to be this ticklish,” she expanded.
“Maybe,” said Jen, “but you’re one of the girls, no? You’re Staci, right?”
“Yeah,” said Staci, having never really thought about it like that.
“So, like, if my sister found out Staci was ticklish,” Jen said, explaining her reasoning, “it would totally be nothing.”
“Really?” asked Staci.
“Oh, she would probably tickle you at every opportunity she could,” Jen said with a laugh, correcting herself. “But that’s just because that’s what girls do. I just mean it wouldn’t be this big thing,” she explained.
“Hmmm,” said Staci, considering it over.
“I mean, not that it’s a big thing that Ian is ticklish, either,” she further explained. “Just that I can understand why you’d be hesitant to show it. But if you’re worried about how things look, believe me, it would be more bizarre to people if Staci wasn’t ticklish.”
“OK,” Staci said. “It’s still a secret that Ian is ticklish. But I guess it’s not the end of the world if people know Staci is ticklish,” she said.
“Deal,” said Jen, nodding her head in approval and happy that she was apparently able to make another element of this whole thing seem more normal for her friend. “I’m glad you feel better about it.”
“I do, actually,” Staci said. “It almost felt liberating actually admitting it for once instead of trying to hide it.”
“See?” said Jen.
“You have no idea how difficult it is to hide it,” Staci confessed. “When we were dating, you used to tickle my feet and you have no idea how close I was to breaking,” Staci confessed.
“Really??” Jen asked, bummed that she had been so close to finding out about this so many years earlier. “Dang. I would usually only stop because I figured payback was coming my way,” she said with a laugh.
Staci laughed, remembering how many times the current situation has been reversed and it was Jen in the vulnerable position. “I almost flat out told you a couple of times just to finally stop having to hide it,” Staci admitted.
“Why didn’t you??” Jen asked.
“I didn’t know how you’d react to it,” Staci admitted.
“Oh gosh, girl,” Jen said, shaking her head in disbelief. “I’dve eaten it up. Are you kidding? That would have been so cute.”
“If only…” sang Staci with a laugh.
“Well, now I know your weakness,” said Jen with a sinister smile, “so I get to make up for lost time.”
Staci laughed.
“What?” asked Jen.
“I’m not sure I’d call it a weakness,” Staci said.
Jen raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Are you kidding, girl?” she asked. “Trust me. This most definitely qualifies as a weakness of yours.”
“I mean,” Staci said, finding that she had to defend herself a little here. “I’m ticklish, but I don’t think I’d consider it a weakness, necessarily.”
“Sweetie,” Jen said reassuringly. “I mean this with the utmost respect so please don’t be offended, but I’ve babysat kids who aren’t as ticklish as you are,” she said with a smile.
“Shut up!” Staci said with a laugh, not offended at all by Jen’s comment. “There’s no way that’s true,” she said in disbelief.
“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Jen said with a laugh. “Listen, it’s not a bad thing at all,” Jen said reassuringly. “I think it’s an endearing quality of yours, actually,” she said truthfully. “But there is no denying that it is absolutely a major weakness of yours.”
“Well,” Staci said, “We’ll have to agree to disagree, I guess.”
“Really?” said Jen with a raised eyebrow.
“What?” asked Staci, not sure what Jen was thinking.
But Jen WAS thinking. And she was already thinking a few steps ahead of Staci, whose feet still lay in their vulnerable position on Jen’s lap. Jen re-positioned herself on the sofa, stretching one of her legs so that it was above the other, dropping it back down across Staci’s ankles, effectively putting Staci’s ankles in a scissor-lock, preventing Staci from pulling her legs away.
“Jen? What are you-” Staci asked, a pit forming in her stomach as she feared the worst, visions of last week moving to the front of her memory now.
“Just a test,” said Jen innocently, smiling at Staci as she realized she had her friend trapped.
“Jen, don’t you dare,” warned Staci, unable to even bring herself to complete the sentence.
“You brought this on yourself,” said Jen as she clamped her legs with more force.
“I told you I’m ticklish!” Staci said, trying to pull her legs away while also reason with Jen.
“No, I know,” Jen said. “But everyone is ticklish,” she continued. “And those who are JUST ticklish can handle a little tickling from time to time,” Jen said softly. “But for those for whom ticklish is a weakness,” Jen continued, maintaining eye contact with Staci. “Well, they’d do anything to get the tickling to stop,” she concluded with a smile.
“Jen, no,” Staci pleaded, fearing what was to come. Sure, she talked a tough game, but she knew deep down that Jen was probably right. Though she didn’t have the comparison data that Jen apparently had, Staci knew there was likely no way that she was “just” ticklish. She hadn’t exaggerated in the least how much Jen’s mere touching of her feet as she began the massage had tickled. That wasn’t being “just” ticklish. That was some serious, off-the-charts, Major League level ticklishness. And Jen apparently wasn’t even trying to tickle at the time.
“What’s the matter, Stace?” Jen asked with a smile. “If it’s not a weakness, you should be able to easily handle this.”
“Handle what?” Staci asked, not sure the extent of what Jen had planned. “I’m clearly ticklish. Don’t do th-AH HA HA,” Staci spasmed as she felt the tip of one of Jen’s fingernails glide up along the bottom of her trapped foot.
“Oh, you’re clearly ticklish, all right,” Staci said with a laugh. “And that was just one finger,” she said, holding the finger in question in the air.
“Yes, I am!” Staci said, tugging at her legs to no avail. “I admit it. Now let me go! Damn, how are your legs so strong?” she asked, in disbelief that she couldn’t pull her legs free from Jen’s grasp.
“Leg day four days a week at the gym,” Jen said with a smile, happy that her dedication to her fitness was serving to her advantage at the moment. “Ready to admit it’s a weakness yet?” Jen asked, showing her finger off again.
Staci was at a cross-roads. On one hand, the logical side of her said, sure, admit that it’s a weakness. There’s no denying it. Any impartial bystander witnessing what was going on would without a doubt categorize Staci’s ticklishness as a weakness. It would be foolish to say otherwise. On the other hand, this was about more than just logic. This was about pride. Staci’s and Jen’s friendship had always been built around these types of things - trying to “one-up” the other. It wouldn’t just be admitting that it’s a weakness. It would be admitting that Jen was right. And doing that was something Staci would do whatever she could to avoid.
“I really don’t see why you think it’s a weakness,” Staci said, not wanting to commit an answer to the affirmative or negative.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Jen said with a smile, bringing her one finger closer to Staci’s foot.
“No, come on, Jen, don’t, do-oo-oo-ah-ah,” Staci said, losing her stream of words as the tip of Jen’s finger made contact with her foot. “Cut it out,” she eeked out amongst the giggles. “It tickles!”
“Of course it tickles,” said Jen. “I’m tickling you,” she said, stating the obvious. It really wasn’t MUCH of a tickle, to be honest; Jen was just slowly, lightly dragging that one fingertip up and down the bottom of Staci’s sole. But it was effective, with Staci a giggling mess trying to pull her legs free from Jen’s death-lock. “It really tickles a lot, huh?” Jen asked, though the answer to the question was both obvious and mind-boggling at the same time; clearly, it tickled Staci a lot given her response, but how could just a single little finger tickle someone so much?
“YES!” shouted Staci through her giggling. “You know I’m ticklish! Cut it out!!”
“Oh, I know you’re ticklish,” Jen said, never once letting her finger lose contact with the nylons that were covering Staci’s sole. “What I want to know is whether or not you would go so far as to consider this a weakness of yours,” she reminded.
“Oh my God, just stop!” Staci pleaded.
“Stop?” Jen laughed. “Girl, I could do this a-l-l n-i-g-h-t,” she said, dragging out the words for emphasis.
“No!” pleaded Staci, still giggling uncontrollably as Jen’s finger wreaked havoc on the bottom of her foot. “Just please st-AHP!” she begged, her words increasing an octave - or ten - as Jen’s finger traced along a certain spot on her foot.
“What was that?” asked Jen, taken aback by Staci’s sudden paroxysm.
“Nothing,” Staci said quickly, recognizing that Jen’s wandering fingertip had stumbled upon a spot on Staci’s foot that was way more ticklish than the rest. “Just let me go,” she said, hoping Jen would dismiss her mini-outburst.
“No, that was definitely something,” Jen said, smiling. “I think I just found your BIGGEST weakness,” she said with a knowing smile.
“I told you, it’s not a weakness,” Staci said, holding firm to her convictions despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary.
“It’s OK,” Jen said, reassuredly. “I just found your spot, is all.”
“Spot?” Staci asked, confused.
“Every girl has a spot that is just insanely ticklish,” Jen said, playing the role of teacher. “EVERY girl,” she said for emphasis. “I have one. Sarah has one. My sister has one. Everyone has one,” she reiterated. “It’s just a spot that’s usually already super ticklish to begin with but there’s one area within that super ticklish spot that’s just through-the-roofs ticklish,” she explained, making the motion of a roof exploding with her hands in the air. “And I just found yours,” she concluded, sticking her tongue out in victory.
“Listen,” Staci said, recognizing what Jen had said was true but not wanting to give credence to it. “Just let me go now, OK? You’ve had your fun.”
“Oh, the fun is just getting started,” Jen said with a slight laugh. “Now, that spot was somewhere over here, right?” she asked, pretending as if she didn’t know the precise coordinates of the spot that had caused Staci to almost jump off the couch.
“DON’T!” Staci said, trying to back it up with as much bravado as she could.
“I wonder how long you’ll last…” Jen said, wondering aloud as she ignored Staci’s pleas.
“Last with what?” Staci asked.
“I wonder how long it will take with my little finger tracing over that spot of yours non-stop before you’re begging for mercy,” she said, an evil smile on her face.
“You’re crazy,” Staci said with a laugh, which quickly turned into even more laughs as Jen’s finger made contact with the bottom of Staci’s foot again - fortunately, not directly on the spot before, but close enough.
“Oh, I’m the crazy one?” teased Jen, her finger tracing lightly along the bottom of Staci’s foot as if purposely avoiding that spot. “You’re the one squirming all around and laughing over there over nothing, but I’M the crazy one?” she joked.
“YOU’RE TICKLING ME!” Staci shouted through the laughter, as if needing to explain the reason for her current behavior.
“You just have to admit it’s a weakness and it could be all over,” Jen said, repeating the same exit strategy she had said before.
“It’s not a weakness,” Staci struggled to say through her laughter.
“I was hoping you’d say that,” Jen said with a smile, moving her exploring finger over to the spot on Staci’s foot that had gotten the better of her before, “because now that means I can…”
But Jen couldn’t finish her sentence. Her finger had already landed on the spot in question, and Staci’s high-pitched shriek had caught even Jen by surprise. Staci’s body jolted as if it had been electrocuted and what had been a constant flutter of laughter and giggling before had now turned to maniacal howls of laughter.
“Good thing this isn’t a weakness…” Jen teased as she watched her friend flail and convulse as Jen’s finger tormented the tender area.
Staci tried to respond but couldn’t get the words past her laughter, her entire body now consumed with the ticklish torment.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Jen asked, again taking great joy in the torment she was causing her friend. “I can’t hear you through your laughter.”
Staci again tried to respond, but now she had fallen into silent laughter, her face still frozen in ticklish agony despite no sound coming out of her open mouth.
Jen saw her friend’s body losing strength, succumbing to the ticklish assault her one finger was dishing out, and decided - briefly - to have mercy, moving her finger off of the dreaded spot and instead delivering a much lighter tickle, allowing Staci to catch her breath.
“It’s a weakness!” Staci shouted out as soon as her body could muster up the resources to form the words, though they were still strewn amongst the laughter that was still coming from within. “It’s a weakness, OK? It’s a weakness!!”
“I’m sorry, what?” Jen asked, pretending as if she couldn’t understand her friend’s words. “I’m afraid I can’t understand you with all that laughter,” she said with a laugh.
“Oh my word! Staci shouted in exasperation. “Stop tickling my feet for two seconds and THEN you can understand me.”
“Oh,” Jen said, pretending to only just now realize that she had been tickling her friend’s feet. “I’m sorry. It was just one finger. I didn’t even realize it was tickling you,” she lied, smiling at her friend.
“Yeah right,” Staci said, not buying her friend’s facade.
“So I’m sorry, what were you saying before?” Jen asked, wanting to hear Staci admit the obvious.
Staci sighed heavily, realizing that this was her only possible way out. There was nothing else she could do. She had been taken aback at the strength of Jen’s legs and their ability to hold Staci’s ankles in place, essentially leaving Staci’s feet trapped and completely at Jen’s mercy. As much as Staci hated to admit it - hated to admit that Jen had been right - Staci knew it was the only option.
“You were right,” Staci began, forcing the words out against years of habit of avoiding those words. “It’s a weakness. It’s my weakness,” she said, hoping that this would signal the end of her torment.
It didn’t.
“What’s a weakness?” Jen asked, playing dumb.
“Ugh!” Staci yelled in play-annoyance, knowing full-well that had the roles been reversed, she would have been relishing in it just as much as Jen was currently. “Being ticklish is a weakness of mine,” she said - straight and to the point - hoping that Jen was satisfied.
Nope.
“Oh my gosh, is it?” Jen asked, pretending to be flabbergasted at Staci’s claim. “Why?” she said, twisting the dagger in even more. “How ticklish are you, girl?”
Staci looked at Jen in disbelief, not believing that they were really playing this game but knowing she was powerless to put an end to it. “I am quite ticklish, as a matter of fact,” Staci said, a smile forming on her mouth as she said the words.
Making such an admission was never something she would have ever considered as Ian. She had trained herself for years to hide any inclination that Ian was ticklish. Looking away. Biting his lip. Anything to make it seem like everything was cool. But Jen had been right earlier. What difference did it really make? Everyone was ticklish, no? Even still, though, it helped immensely that this was Staci making such an admission and not Ian.
“Quite ticklish, huh?” Jen asked, sensing that Staci was becoming more comfortable in her skin the more they talked. “And what’s your most ticklish spot?” she asked with a smile.
“Really?” Staci asked with a laugh. “This is really something you’d ask one of your girlfriends?”
“No,” Jen said, “but I already know all my girlfriends' most ticklish spots,” she said with a laugh. “But this is totally something I would ask a new girlfriend.”
Staci smiled, the notion of Jen seeing her as a “girlfriend” making her more at ease. “Well, if you must know,” Staci said shyly, “it’s my feet.”
“Oooh,” Jen said, though she was already pretty sure that was the case based on Staci’s reactions. “These feet here, huh?” she asked, pointing to Staci’s still-trapped soles.
“Mmm hmmm,” Staci said, confirming.
“You know what they say about ticklish feet mixed with nylons, right?” Jen asked, harkening back to their conversation last week.
“Ahm, yeah,” Staci said, recollecting the same conversation. “A friend told me about it recently,” she said with a smile.
“Smart friend,” Jen said, drawing a laugh out of Staci. “Was she right?”
“Oh my word, yeah,” Staci said, shocking herself at how easily the admission had come. “I mean,” she said, collecting herself, “my feet are definitely way more ticklish in nylons.”
“So let me think about this for a second here,” Jen said, deep in thought. “Your feet are your most ticklish spot - so ticklish that you’d go so far as to say it’s your weakness, right? - and by your own admission, those same feet are even MORE ticklish when they have nylons on, right?”
“Y-yes,” Staci stammered, not sure where Jen was going with this. “What do you -”
“So you could say I have you in a very vulnerable position right now, no?” Jen said with a smile.
Staci’s smile faded, realizing that Jen apparently wasn’t finished yet. She tugged at her legs, trying in vain to pull them free, but Jen’s grip was simply too strong. “Jen, no,” Staci said. “I already said -”.
“No, I know you already said it was your weakness,” Jen said. “I’m just curious what else I can get out of you.”
“Come on,” Staci said, knowing full well the enormous disadvantage she was in. “You’ve already had your fun.”
“Pull your legs all you want, girl,” Jen laughed. “They ain’t going anywhere.” Jen looked warmly at her friend, the tugging of the legs stopping as Staci realized that Jen was right. “So I’m curious now…” Jen began.
“What?” Staci asked.
“Could I get you to pay for the pizza next week by tickling you?” she asked, bringing her finger back up in the air.
“YES!” shouted Staci, seeing the finger poised and knowing its capabilities. “I’ll totally buy the pizza next week. Just no more tickling!”
“Oooooh,” Jen said with a laugh. “I didn’t even need to tickle you to get you to agree to that??” she asked, surprised. “Just the mere THREAT of a tickle is enough to get you to cave?”
“It’s not worth it,” Staci said, truthfully. She would have gladly paid for the pizza regardless, just for the opportunity to have another night like this, but the threat of a tickle DID make her even more willing.
“And we can get mushroom pizza?” Jen asked, an eyebrow raised.
“Ewww,” Staci said, hating mushroom pizza. Her mood instantly turned, though, as Jen raised her finger again, threatening the tickle. “YES!” Staci yelled, hoping to catch Jen before her finger moved closer. “Yes. Mushroom pizza it is.”
“Oh my gosh, girl,” Jen said, shocked that it was apparently so easy to coax Staci into whatever she wanted. “I can’t believe this. You’re that powerless against tickling?” she asked, making sure to choose her words carefully enough to make them as embarrassing as possible.
Staci’s face turned a little red. “My feet are just really, really ticklish,” she said softly, as if needing to explain to Jen the reasoning. Staci couldn’t believe how freely she was admitting this to her friend, though. Just a few weeks ago, Ian would have done - and WAS doing - everything in his power to hide the fact that he was so ticklish. This current predicament would have been his worst nightmare come true. But, somehow - despite obviously not truly enjoying the situation, per se - Staci didn’t mind this little game she was playing with Jen. Though every second of it tormented her to no end as it was going on, Staci knew she was sure to look back on this and smile when it was all over. Jen was taking advantage of the fact that her friend Staci was ticklish. It was something that Ian had seen Jen do to countless other girlfriends throughout the years. In a way, then, this was almost serving as a “welcome” session to the land of girlfriends, from Jen to Staci.
“I’d say they are,” Jen said with a smile. “But now I’m wondering…”
“What?” asked Staci, dreading what was coming next.
“Are they more ticklish than mine?” Jen asked.
“No way!” Staci said quickly, the ol’ competitive nature of the friendship shining through again - that, plus, while Ian had been able to keep the level of his ticklishness under wraps, Jen had never been as fortunate, and the extent of her ticklishness was well known to many. Jen’s feet, historically, had always been known as her “spot”, as she liked to call it earlier. Staci remembered countless times Jen’s college roommate Sarah poking fun at Jen for losing her mind laughing in the pedicurist’s chair. Unless Jen had somehow come up with a formula to reduce how ticklish her feet were, there was simply no way Staci’s feet were more ticklish than Jen’s.
Right?
“Really?” Jen asked, an eyebrow arched. “Because I have a little finger here that says that they are.”
“NO!” Staci pleaded, realizing Jen’s end game - the ultimate indignation, admitting to not only being ticklish and not only to it being your weakness but admitting to being more ticklish than Jen.
“Just admit your feet are more ticklish than mine,” Jen said, relishing the power and control she had over her friend.
“There’s no way my feet are more ticklish than yours,” Staci said adamantly, though internally, she wasn’t as sure as she once would have been. Sure, Ian had always been ticklish, and if this were Ian against Jen, then there is no way Ian would even consider for a second that he was more ticklish than Jen. Close, maybe, but no way moreso. But this wasn’t Ian. This was Staci. And being Staci had somehow changed Ian a little, perhaps made him a little softer. Had cut down a few levels of that fortress that Ian had built against being ticklish. She hadn’t realized it at the time, of course, but Staci admitting to being ticklish earlier had almost, in a way, made her even MORE ticklish - the simple act of finally accepting the fact unleashing the burden held for so many years. So no, Ian wasn’t likely to be more ticklish than Jen, but Staci, on the other hand…
And that’s, of course, without even considering the nylons. She had only been tickled in nylons twice, but it was already more than enough for Staci to know that she was especially helpless when she had nylons on - that her level of ticklishness increased to just astronomical levels. Staci wasn’t sure if she had believed Jen last week when she first mentioned it, but there was no doubting it now; Staci’s feet were simply insanely ticklish when they had nylons on and she was defenseless against any sort of tickle attack.
“No way your feet are more ticklish than mine?” Jen asked with a little laugh. “Why don’t we see about that, huh?” she said, raising her finger again.
“NO!” Staci pleaded. “This isn’t fair. I have nylons on and you still have your shoes on!” she protested, as if Jen would have considered altering things to make it a fairer fight.
“I guess that’s good for me and bad for you,” Jen teased. “Of course, you could always not force this fate upon yourself if you’d just admit that your feet are more ticklish than mine,” she reminded.
“I can’t do that!” Staci replied. “Put nylons on and let me tickle your feet and THEN we’ll see if you’re so confident!”
Jen laughed. “I’ve got thick, thick socks on today, girl,” she boasted. “Maximum protection against tickle attacks. You, on the other hand,” she said, changing her tone, “well, by your own admission, you’re in a very vulnerable spot right now, aren’t you?”
“Jen, come on!” Staci pleaded, pulling in vain again at her legs. “You win, OK? My feet are super ticklish, ok?”
“Girl,” Jen said with a laugh. “We’re way past that point right now. I know your feet are super ticklish. You know what I want to hear.”
“They’re insanely ticklish,” Staci said, willing to admit to basically anything BUT the words Jen wanted to hear. “OK? Super insanely ticklish. My feet are so, so ticklish and I’m sorry for ever hiding it from you,” she begged.
“Say. The. Words,” Jen said, holding to her demands.
“I…” started Staci, debating internally about what to do. “I can’t,” she said, realizing she was sealing her fate.
“Suit yourself,” said Jen, “but I’ve got a whole hand that thinks your feet are more ticklish than mine,” she said, displaying all of her fingers now.
Staci’s eyes shot open. To this point, she hadn’t considered Jen using more than one finger. Sure, it was foolish to think that way, but Jen’s entire attack thus far had been waged with just the one finger. And quite clearly, one finger had been enough to reduce Staci to her current defenseless state; what would an entire hand do?
“WAIT, NO!” screamed Staci, hoping for one more reprieve, though none would come. Jen’s fingers had begun dancing across Staci’s trapped soles already, the five digits completely overwhelming Staci and sending her into complete and total hysteria instantly. Staci bucked and pulled, squirmed and wiggled, but there was no getting out of her predicament. Jen had her trapped tightly, making escape impossible even before adding in the handicap of being tickled on top of it.
Jen smiled as she watched her friend laughing hysterically on the couch. Though she was living it, a portion of her still couldn’t believe what she was witnessing. Sure, she knew Ian to be ticklish back in the day when they were dating, but never… never like this. Staci was consumed in laughter, unable to even open her eyes as her body tried to fight against the ticklish sensations entering through the bottom of her feet. For Jen, it was slowly changing from a “How could Ian be this ticklish?” question to a “How could anyone in the world be this ticklish?” question.
Jen took great delight in tormenting her friend, alternating tactics in her attack, never once staying on one spot for too long. Every now and then, Jen would let one of her fingers wander a little, just enough for it to make contact with that spot on the bottom of Staci’s foot. Staci’s body would jerk each time, instinctively dreading what was about to come, though Jen would only tease it. Jen hadn’t even really needed to exploit Staci’s spot to reduce her to such a giggling mess. And Jen loved that.
Staci, on the other hand, was doing anything BUT loving this. She was desperately trying to say the words that Jen had wanted to hear - that Staci’s feet were more ticklish than hers - but words completely escaped her. The laughter had consumed her entire body and no words were able to escape. She couldn’t even eek out a meager “No!” or “Stop!”; it was nothing but pure, 100% laughter.
Just as Jen was shocked at how ticklish Staci was, so, too, was Staci, to an extent. Ian had long hidden the extent of his ticklishness, but had doing so left Ian with an inaccurate gauge of how ticklish he was? How much of this was Ian and how much of this was Staci? And how could wearing nylons increase how ticklish someone’s feet were at least ten-fold like they did?
Jen tickled away, watching Staci fall deeper and deeper into laughter. It was a welcome sight for Jen. Staci’s thoughts were spot-on. Jen was ticklish. Incredibly so. Growing up, Jen had usually been unofficially tagged with the “Most Ticklish of the Group” award in whatever group she was with, the unfortunate recipient of many a poke from passing friends. Just as it was a weakness for Staci, it was an absolute weakness for Jen, as well - one that friends and family were all willing to take advantage of. It had started with her mother, growing up - the simple, motherly tickles that one would receive. Her younger sister soon turned to be her most ruthless tickler, relishing the fact that she could render her older sister completely helpless with a simple tickle. Jen had been coerced into revealing countless secrets, taking on umpteen additional chores, and serving as a caddy for her sister’s friends innumerable times, all the result of a well-timed tickle attack from her younger sister. Jen thought she would outgrow it as she grew older, but that was not the case; if anything, it only increased, as Jen took advantage of more and more skin moisturizers and the like. So though it wasn’t anything like growing up in high school or college, Jen knew she was taking a calculated risk in taking off her shoes around anyone who might remember how ticklish she was. With that in mind, it was nice to find someone who might rival Jen and possibly share in the tickle attacks.
As Jen mused of the situation, Staci was losing more and more control, her laughter now silent once again as her body struggled to keep up with the tickling. Jen slowed her tickling a touch, giving Staci the opening to finally gasp out “OK OK OK” amidst the laughter.
“Have something to say?” Jen asked, reducing her all-out tickle attack to simply dragging one finger up and down the bottom of Staci’s foot now.
“I’m more ticklish! I’m more ticklish!” Staci shouted, completely broken of her resolve to not admit those very words.
“Why, whatever do you mean?” Jen asked, looking to prolong this as much as she could.
“GAH!” Staci shouted, just wanting the torment to be over already. “My feet are more ticklish than yours, OK?” she admitted. “There. My feet are insanely ticklish and are more ticklish than yours. I admit it,” Staci said, now willing to say anything to get Jen to stop the tickling.
“There. Was that so hard?” Jen laughed, no longer dragging her finger down Staci’s foot. “But girl, no joke,” Jen said, trying to seem serious. “You might just be the most ticklish person I know,” she said, finally releasing her Vulcan grip on Staci’s ankles.
Staci pulled her feet to safety as soon as she could, still trying to catch her breath from all the laughing. “Shut up!” Staci laughed.
“It’s true,” Jen said, smoothing out her clothes after Staci had been squirming around all over the place. “I’ve always thought it was my sister but you’re definitely giving her some competition.”
“Oh my gosh,” Staci said, her face once again red.
“No, no,” Jen said, sensing her words had caused some embarrassment for Staci. “It’s a good thing. Really. It’s cute. Very feminine,” she said with a smile.
“Thanks,” Staci said shyly.
“But just so you know,” Jen whispered, leaning in. “I plan on taking advantage of this whenever I can,” she said with a smile.
“Are we in a tickle war?” laughed Staci.
“Totally,” agreed Jen.
