If there’s one thing that can be said about an event I organise it’s that it’s never predictable. Granted, that’s occasionally because something goes wrong and hilarity ensues, usually at my expense, but normally it’s because I put a huge amount of time and effort into coming up with something new. Case in point, the main attraction of this years village fete which I’d been asked to organise by a chance meeting with an old friend. James had been left well and truly in the lurch when the company he’d contracted to do the heavy lifting had gone bust just four weeks from several hundred paying customers turning up. He’d managed to get a fill-in for most of the stalls and events but they were still missing a centrepiece for the event. They’d been planning on something ‘traditional’ for a small seaside community and having donkey races but without a ready supply of donkeys that plan wasn’t making it out of the starting gate (sorry).
I ran a dozen ideas past him but they’d all been done before and they knew that something new and interesting was required to capture the imagination of the public and make the event a success. Being an opportunistic kind of guy I did pitch the idea of stocks and some willing tickle victims past him and he was pretty enthusiastic about it…. for about ten seconds until he remembered they’d done it three years ago (and six weeks before I’d moved to the area damn it!). We went through a couple more ideas, neither of which got anywhere, and then it hit me. It’s odd how ideas sometimes come in a thin, tenuous stream of images, fragile as hell, so I held up a hand for silence while pulling a pen from my coat and started scribbling on the event program we’d been discussing. For ten minutes I drew and crossed out different designs until I had something I was happy with, took a deep breath and threw out a pretty radical idea. From the smile on his face I knew I’d hit gold, now all I had to do was make my scribbles into reality in less than a month.
My god that month went by quickly. My days became a blur of working in the city, dashing home and then building my creations in the garage until I was ready to drop. The last week saw a stream of testing and modifications to my original design and a final, frantic burst of effort that saw me put the finishing touches on as the sun broke and gently brushed the windows of my now-cramped garage. That was a day before the event and, after a brief nap, I was back in there, stripping everything down and loading it up onto a transit van to transport over to the field the next day. A couple of quick phone calls that afternoon confirmed the attendance of my willing victims (although I must confess I was a little economical with the details of what was in store for them) and we were all set.
And so it was that in the beautiful warm sunshine of a Sunday in August I found myself standing by a large structure about twelve foot tall and covered in a very big tarp with six very lovely ladies just behind me wondering what they were in for. As far as they were concerned they’d agreed to come along and be tickled by the public but they had been expecting normal stocks not… well, whatever this was. James finally managed to break free from the scrum of people all looking for last minute information or needing little problems fixing. I had to admit, even though my limbs were aching from their exertion over the last four weeks and my eyes were fighting to stay open, I wouldn’t have swapped places with him for all the tea in china. Still, at least I could give him a nice surprise for his centrepiece and not before time as the fete was already open and a small number of early arrivals were milling around.
With a flourish I yanked the covering off my creation and heard a laugh from James and a mix of gasps and swearing from the women behind me as the sunlight glinted off Perspex.
“How does it work then?” James asked, casting an approving gaze over my handiwork. I could see why he was impressed, it did look very imposing. Standing almost twelve foot tall there were two Perspex cells side by side with a four foot gap between them but connected at the top. Each cell had a Perspex ‘plank’ moulded into the structure of the cage at about waist height. The front door had a hole just above that plank which, in turn, had a sliding plastic section attached. By moving the plastic piece down the hole could be shrunk down from, oh say the size of a foot from toe to heel all the way down to the size of an ankle, effectively forming a slightly crude form of stock. The sides of the cage were covered with slits running from the plank up to a height of about six foot above the ground and wide enough to easily get a hand and arm through. The top section was still covered by another cloth though, that was a surprise I wanted to hang on to for a minute or two longer.
“Allow me to demonstrate” I replied, casting a glance over our pool of ‘volunteers’ and beckoning Rachel forward. Gorgeous with a lovely curvy body, great breasts, wonderful hair, huge brown eyes, a fantastic smile and, most importantly, my wife and therefore in on the whole deal she was perfect to demonstrate my evil invention. Dressed perfectly in tight white t-shirt and cut off denim shorts she was gorgeous.
She stepped forward and walked into the chamber, turning around so she faced the door, legs straddling the plank for a moment before sitting down as I shut the door. She slid her legs through the hole in the front and the ‘stocks’ slid down and held her securely (I’d made damn sure to smooth the edges until they were damn near perfect and as comfortable as possible). Her back was flush to the plastic of the cell, the whole thing acting almost as a giant chair. She put her hands out to the sides and her wrists and forearms slid easily through one of the plastic slits. I grabbed a pair of handcuffs that were attached either side of the tank and pulled them down, securing her wrists in place outside the tank. With a grin I reached up and turned a small hand crank, pulling the slack out of the chains on the handcuffs, stretching her arms up and exposing her armpits and ribs in the process. When there was only an inch of slack left I stopped winding, reached up and hit a safety button. A low chime rang out, a warning klaxon that the system was now armed designed, more or less, to mess with the mind of whoever was inside the cell. With a grin I yanked the other cloth away to reveal a massive tank above the cell filled to the brim with glistening green gunge.
Now I only heard swearing from behind me from our ‘volunteers’ but I ignored it as I carried on with my demo. “Girls, if you’d take positions around the cell, one of you to each hole, one to each foot please.” They did as I asked, muttering to themselves as they did so and casting glances at the OTHER cell as they went past.
“This really is a very simple game. Now normally there’d be someone in both tanks but as this is a demonstration we’ll keep things simple. The objective is very simple, make the girl in your tank pull down on their restraints. If they do that, a sensor is tripped, they loose the round and whoever was touching her at the time wins a five pound prize. It costs a pound per person for a minute of time and the only rule is they can’t cause pain or actually pull the girl’s arms down. Other than that, anything goes and up to six people can go at a cell at one time.”
James nodded approvingly as he worked out the maths, no matter what happened if it was at all popular he’d stand to make a decent amount of money off this attraction for the local causes supported by the fete. Not wanting to waste any time I gestured to the girls : “Okay ladies, do your worst. Oh, and when you hear that klaxon go again you may want to step back…”
I had expected the demo to take a while, Rachel is normally pretty good at resisting what I knew would be a tickle torture session after all. What I hadn’t counted on was that several of the women surrounding her were none too pleased at the situation and figured she must have known all along and could have told them (as it happens that was true enough so they did have a point). They dived in to the attack, the two at her feet placing their mouths over her toes and simultaneously licking between her toes and running their teeth over her soles. Hands dove through the slots in the cage to tickle her thighs, hips, ribs and armpits, racing over her flesh.
I think it must have caught Rachel by surprise as well as she exploded with laughter. I hadn’t heard her do anything quite like it in all our time together but within seconds she was howling, her head thrashing back and forth, her hair whipping back and forth, laughter pouring out of her mixed with gasps and snorts as she tried to breathe. Someone, I think it was Claire but I couldn’t swear to it, reached through the slots at the side of the cage, wrapped her hands around Rachel’s knees and squeezed. Rachel’s eyes went wide and she lurched forward, pulling down on the restraints as she did so. The klaxon rang and the girls cheered even as they hopped backwards.
Five seconds after the klaxon went the tank above her opened. A tidal wave of green gunge flowed down, covering her, no, actually obliterating was a much more accurate word. It was pretty thick stuff and there was almost two hundred litres in the tank with a nice large hole to drop it through. Even so it took almost twenty seconds for the flow to stop and, when it did, the beautiful curves of my wife were hidden beneath a blob of green gunge that looked like something out of a fifties B movie. The restraints on her wrists clicked open on their own and she brought her arms back inside the cell, wiping the gunge from her eyes as I reached forward and released her feet from the ‘stocks’ and opened the door. She got out, carefully as the gunge was surprisingly slippery, and headed for a large tent about twenty feet away were we’d set up changing and shower facilities for the girls. There was an outbreak of applause from a crowd I hadn’t noticed gathering and I turned with a smile, arms opened wide:
“And that’s how the game is played Ladies and Gentlemen. Now, who is to be our first pair of contestants….” I paused, letting the moment build as I turned to the group of five women who pulled together slightly under my gaze. “ How about this matchup my friends…. A blonde… “ I pulled Claire gently from the group “ And a redhead!” Mary followed suit. “Of course one of them will, very shortly, be given a free dye job!” It was a terrible joke but, as the two girls moved towards the cells it got a laugh from the crowd as they moved forward towards the ticket booth…
Thankfully it took a few minutes to get ready to sell to the already large (and growing larger by the second) crowd which gave me time to hook up the recycling pump to both tanks. A simple gasket in the bottom of each cell was attached to a hose, the pump was turned on and the gunge was sucked out into a holding tank on the ground a few feet behind the cells. The holding tank was actually a set of four individual tanks, two for each cell, so three full loads of gunge were available to ensure a quick turnaround time. It did take a couple of minutes to pump a full load up to the tank above the cell but as that was about the same time it took to get fresh victims in place and secured it wasn’t a problem.
Talking of which, both Claire and Mary were now well and truly secured in the cells. They were remarkably similar in terms of build, both about 5 foot 7 and slim although Claire definitely had a better ass and legs that the redhead. Neither looked too pleased about their current predicament, albeit for different reasons. Over the last few weeks, as I’d put together my shortlist of willing volunteers, I’d made sure to give each of them a chance to let me know how they felt about gunge, albeit in a theoretical sense. While none of them had reacted with revulsion (or I’d never have asked them to be part of it) Mary had been rather… reluctant. I suppose it’s the traditional attitude of people to this sort of thing, it’s icky and given the choice you’d rather be nice and clean somewhere else. Claire, on the other hand, had surprised me by admitting she was actually very turned on by the thought, especially in a public setting. For a while I’d wondered about not including her in the games for fear of her simply yanking down the instant the contest started. It was then that Rachel had reminded me of Claire’s competitive streak and, watching her face as the cuffs were attached, I was suddenly very glad we’d invited her. You could actually see the conflict in her mind between wanting to win and see her rival vanish under a torrent of, in this case, blue gunge and wanting to feel it falling over herself. I grinned at her and she shot me a look that was about 51% enjoyment and 49% a promise of revenge.
The first ten members of the public were brought up and there was a little bit of shoving as they each took up their favourite spot. I hit the button to arm the system, the klaxon sounded and we were off! The shriek of laughter that echoed over the site was almost biblical and I dashed round the front to get a clearer view (and get clear of the splash zone). Two guys had taken position by Claire’s feet and were gleefully attacking her soles with long, slow strokes of their fingers, their short nails finding every crease of her flesh. Another guy was running his hands over her knees in slow torturous circles while two women stood right behind the cell, their hands flying so fast up and down her cotton-covered sides they almost blurred. Claire’s face was a study in ticklish agony, her eyes screwed shut, her mouth wide open in helpless laughter. I had my doubts whether she’d last long at all which was good news for Mary.
Or at least it would have been except all five of her ticklers had decided to focus on her upper body. Two guys had their hands running all over her stomach and ribs, a girl who couldn’t have been much older than eighteen was running both hands gently and irritatingly around her neck while the remaining two guys had focused in on her arms, running their fingers from the edge of the cuffs all the way down to her armpits before whirling them round in tight, ticklish circles and tearing off back up her arms to do it all again. Mary’s eyes were wide open and her breath was coming in shallow gasps as she shook her head, red hair flying everywhere as she was clearly struggling to keep control.
Both women were clearly desperate to avoid the gunging that loomed large in their futures and were putting everything into holding their arms in place. There was a large crowd gathered around the cells now cheering on the ticklers, clearly looking forward to seeing one of the two gorgeous victims dripping in slime. A large electric clock above the cells flicked into life and started a ten second countdown which the watching crowd eagerly joined in with. Both girls were straining to hold on, knowing that when the counter reached zero they’d get a few seconds respite as their ticklers were replaced by the next batch of paying punters. A cheer went up from the crowd as they did the last 3….2….1….0! I saw both women relax as their tormentors pulled back… then Mary almost jumped out of her skin as fingers returned to her hips and dove down, flicking and tickling like a feather-tipped knife. She screamed and twisted trying to work out what was going on and why she was still getting tickled. But the attack had taken her by surprise and as another hand grabbed her other hip and dug in she couldn’t resist trying to curl up. The klaxon rang and the guy who’d kept on tickling her danced back in triumph, clearing the drop zone. Claire twisted her head to watch her rival with a massive grin on her head.
“Hey, wait, he cheated!” Mary yelled before wisely closing her mouth as gallons of blue gunge descended upon her luscious red hair. It seemed to explode as it hit her head and a scream pierced the air as she found herself drenched from head to foot in a matter of seconds. This particular mix was a little thinner than the green and was over a little quicker but my god she looked good at the end of it. The blue seemed to cling to her skin giving her a weird, otherworldly appearance especially where her natural hair colour poked through its new, and free, dye job. As a couple of helpers undid the restraints I got on the microphone of the PA system.
“Actually Ladies and Gentleman, that was perfectly legitimate. Mr Walker here just paid for two minutes instead of one so had the right to continue tickling when the others had to pull back. He gets the full prize and those about to come up will be asked to wait just a moment while we get two new victims for your viewing pleasure.”
I don’t think Mary was too happy with me as she stomped off to the changing tent but I was pretty sure she’d get over it soon enough. Claire was released and started stretching her shoulders to ease the tension from her muscles as two more of our victims were moved into position. I did another check of the recycling system and, satisfied it was working properly, left the stall in the capable hands of my assistants and went for a walk around the fete.
I’d made it almost to the other side of the field when the screams of laughter reached my waiting ears. It was a wonderful sound, floating on the breeze and remarkably clear. There was a slight slope to the hill and I could just about make out the cells from my vantage point. The light glittered off the Perspex like some futuristic prop from a sci-fi movie and the tanks above seemed to vanish, the gunge appearing to float in mid air. To my surprise the two girls in the tanks were putting up a fair old fight and I saw the group around them get changed twice before one of them cracked. I’d never seen a gunging from such a distance before and it was fascinating. The gunge dropped straight down in a perfect cylinder until it made contact with its victim. Then it spread outwards almost as if it had hit an umbrella and flowed down her body before splashing out along her thighs. It was a very impressive sight indeed and I made a note to get a camera setup somewhere suitable to capture the moment.
The afternoon wore on and things were going well. All of our volunteers had had at least two goes in the cells and all had gotten covered at least once. Well, all except one. Much to the annoyance of the rest of the girls Claire was still clean and fresh having held out not once but twice. The crowd didn’t seem to mind too much but there was a definite feeling that they wanted to see her get it the next time she was in the firing line so I had a quick think and came up with a devious little plan.
The next time the tanks emptied I arranged for Claire and Rachel to be playing against each other. Knowing both women as I did I was sure that both would be fighting hard to win and both would, hopefully, forgive me for the dirty trick I was about to play. This time we did things a little differently with each girl standing in the cell, legs spread out either side of the ‘plank’. Extra cuffs were attached to their ankles and connecting ropes run up to the d-rings on the ankle cuffs. Now, even the smallest movement of either arms or legs would trigger the drop. That was a good start but I wanted to raise the stakes a little bit (and, yes, I wanted to make sure we’d see Claire get gunged as well. Sue me). I took the microphone again:
“Ladies and Gentleman, thank you for your support up to this point. Your generosity has been astonishing and we’d like to remind you that all money raised today goes to support local good causes. With that in mind, we’re going to have a very special contest for you. These two gorgeous women are, as you can see, at your mercy but we’re going to change the rules slightly. This will be a best of five contest and, to make things even more interesting, we’re not going to empty the cell between rounds. Which means that one of these two young and beautiful women is going to end up standing in about four foot of gunge and one of YOU is going to make that happen!”
I paused to let the cheer die down and enjoy the looks of anger from both Rachel and Claire.
“Now as we’re doing this contest a little differently we’re going to change things around a little on how you can take part as well! We’ve got ten spots available here and we’re going to auction them off. Let’s start the bidding at five pounds!”
The bidding went on for at least five minutes and ended up raising twenty-five pounds per person. Not bad at all for a simple little event like this and worth the complaining I’d have to endure from both women later on. The ten lucky winners were soon in place, we armed the system and our winners went to work.
It was, I think vicious is the only word that does it justice. With both victims standing the feet were no longer available but that just seemed to inspire the ticklers to new and creative heights. All of them concentrated on the legs with thighs and knees subject to an unrelenting assault of squeezes and pokes, fingers racing up and down from the knees across the calves and shins, whirling round the ankles and across the top of the feet. Booth women had their eyes squeezed shut and were howling with laughter although Claire was already far higher pitched than Rachel and becoming more desperate with every passing second. One of the girls tickling her thighs went higher and higher until she was tickling the point where thigh met ass. The instant her fingers hit that spot Claire’s eyes popped open and she screamed, honest to god screamed, with laughter. She danced away from those probing fingers and the klaxon rang. Her tormentors grinned and stepped back, waiting for the torrent they knew was about to hit their victim. Rachel turned her head to watch as Claire tucked her head in as best she could. The slots at the very bottom of the tank were quickly sealed with a set of custom-cut gaskets and the world seemed to hold its breath…
The torrent of green gunge hit her with a splat. It had been recycled a couple of times and for some reason it had thickened each time until it now seemed to ooze rather than flow. It slid down her head and over her shoulders, coating her body, caressing her as it headed for the ground. I was watching closely as the crowd roared their approval and saw her shiver as it passed down her front, over her waist and coating her curvy butt and slim legs as it started to pool around her feet.
It took maybe a minute for the tank to empty itself out and when it was over she was standing in thick sludgy gunge up to her knees. Rachel was grinning at her as Claire looked over towards Rachel, shaking the gunge out of her eyes and glowering at her opponent. The ticklers were already moving back to their stations and it became obvious very quickly that Claire was in real trouble. Her willpower was still strong, I’d often thought if we could figure out a way to harness that particular resource we’d solve the world energy crisis overnight, but her body was reeling. More importantly her ticklers now knew a spot that was sheer hell for her and suddenly ten hands went straight for her hips, the very tops of her thighs and her ass. She howled as they made contact and groaned as torture crossed the fine line into pleasure for a brief, wonderful second. Beside her Rachel was doing a fantastic dolphin impression as hands goosed her ribs but she’d seen what was happening to Claire and was drawing strength from it.
A pair of hands wormed their way between Claire’s legs and fingers fluttered against the very top of her thighs. She let out a noise that was part scream, part laugh and part moan and a full body shudder raced through her. The klaxon went and another cheer went up. The next set of gaskets went in and the tank opened wide…
A flood of red gunge descended on Claire’s helpless body, far more liquid than the green gunge and hitting her like the worlds largest power shower. She was covered in moments and the bottom of the tank filled up rapidly, rising up her legs and covering her crotch before stopping somewhere just above her waist. The look on her face was a mix of revulsion and delight as the gunge seeped in all around her and found its way into places normally reserved for her master. She squirmed at the sensations coursing through her body and knew with a sinking feeling that she was likely to loose three nil.
To be honest I’d have thought that myself but hadn’t taken into account the ticklers around Rachel. They’d been watching Claire’s group and had seen exactly what had gotten such a reaction from someone who’d survived two previous trips to the tank. As a result they used the same tactics when the third round started on their victim and the results were immediate. Rachel howled and shook her head as fingers raced over the tops of her legs, hips and butt, dark hair flying like whips. Making matters worse for her was the gunge had now covered Claire’s arse and the ticklers around her were focusing on her upper body, which wasn’t quite as effective. It was once more a one sided affair but now the scales had tipped and it was Rachel that couldn’t resist yanking away.
The torrent that hit her was blue and damn near perfect as far as gunge went. It flowed like water but stuck and oozed wherever it touched. It coated her flesh and clothing, leaving her white t-shirt dangerously close to see through and clinging wonderfully to her curves. As her legs were shorter than Claires she found herself covered with gunge up to the tops of her thighs. It wasn’t quite touching her crotch but it would take only the smallest drop to make that happen and what was waiting above her was a hell of a lot more than that. She looked fabulous as the gunge dripped from her face and she shook her vision clear, the expression of worry on her face clear to those at the very back of the by-now huge crowd.
She needn’t have worried however. Claire’s ticklers had no intention of loosing this contest and as soon as the next round started one of the girls shoved their arms into the pool of gunge up to the bicep, reached down and tickled her ass. Claire hadn’t expected it and was caught utterly off guard. I don’t know if those fingers touched somewhere they shouldn’t in the murk or if it was just the mix of tickling and gunge but Claire’s eyes bugged out, she gave a deep, guttural grunt and gave a massive tug on her restraints as she came. The klaxon range but I quickly hit the override switch, holding the final drop.
We got Rachel out of her cell, dripping blue gunge and looking spectacular. She made her way over to Claire’s cell and stood behind it, pushing a hand through one of the slots and grabbing a good handful of formerly-blonde hair. I handed her a simple trigger and she grinned as she pulled Claire’s hair hard enough to make sure she had no choice but to lean her head back. As soon as Claire was looking straight up Rachel hit the trigger, the Klaxon blared, Rachel dropped the now-useless trigger, plunged the other hand through another slot and goosed Claire’s ribs. The timing was perfect as Claire shrieked with laughter just as the final torrent of gunk dropped into her upturned face.
The noise was…. Well, frankly, it was indescribable. A mix of laughter, screeches of rage, moans of delight and something animalistic all screamed underwater. She thrashed and writhed in her restraints as the black gunge drenched her, Rachel letting go of her hair and jumping back to get a good view. The final layer of gunge descended like the wrath of the gods covering her up to her shoulders, leaving her encased in Perspex, just a head floating on a sea of black. And as good as she looked standing there like some strange, exotic piece of living art she looked ten times better when we emptied the tank and got her out to a round of applause from the crowd that dwarfed any that had come before. Rachel hugged her and together they made their way to the tent to shower and change. I almost went in to join them but decided to give them some privacy. After all I had my hands full with the requests.
Yes, requests. The crowd seemed to be drawn to the cells and I was getting dozens of requests for people to play the game against friends or, in some cases, enemies. I did the best I could to accommodate them all, just making sure that everyone that played realised they could be getting out drenched and messy. The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of flesh, some beautiful, some not but all willing and having a great time which is what really matters.
In the final reckoning it all worked out very well. By ourselves we raised a couple of thousand pounds by the end of the day. The general consensus was that we were an absolute hit with the paying public and certainly everyone that took part had a great time. We actually had a fair few people come up to us afterwards and ask if they could talk to us about this whole tickling thing some time. We, of course, directed them to the Tickle Brits series of web sites (the UK’s premier tickling community don’t you know….) and actually ended up with a couple of dozen new members. And, of course, I ended up with a couple of very nice gunge tanks which, late one night in a secluded garden in deepest, darkest London, saw Rachel and Claire having a rematch…. Only this time without the hindrance of clothes getting in the way of that lovely gunge.
I ran a dozen ideas past him but they’d all been done before and they knew that something new and interesting was required to capture the imagination of the public and make the event a success. Being an opportunistic kind of guy I did pitch the idea of stocks and some willing tickle victims past him and he was pretty enthusiastic about it…. for about ten seconds until he remembered they’d done it three years ago (and six weeks before I’d moved to the area damn it!). We went through a couple more ideas, neither of which got anywhere, and then it hit me. It’s odd how ideas sometimes come in a thin, tenuous stream of images, fragile as hell, so I held up a hand for silence while pulling a pen from my coat and started scribbling on the event program we’d been discussing. For ten minutes I drew and crossed out different designs until I had something I was happy with, took a deep breath and threw out a pretty radical idea. From the smile on his face I knew I’d hit gold, now all I had to do was make my scribbles into reality in less than a month.
My god that month went by quickly. My days became a blur of working in the city, dashing home and then building my creations in the garage until I was ready to drop. The last week saw a stream of testing and modifications to my original design and a final, frantic burst of effort that saw me put the finishing touches on as the sun broke and gently brushed the windows of my now-cramped garage. That was a day before the event and, after a brief nap, I was back in there, stripping everything down and loading it up onto a transit van to transport over to the field the next day. A couple of quick phone calls that afternoon confirmed the attendance of my willing victims (although I must confess I was a little economical with the details of what was in store for them) and we were all set.
And so it was that in the beautiful warm sunshine of a Sunday in August I found myself standing by a large structure about twelve foot tall and covered in a very big tarp with six very lovely ladies just behind me wondering what they were in for. As far as they were concerned they’d agreed to come along and be tickled by the public but they had been expecting normal stocks not… well, whatever this was. James finally managed to break free from the scrum of people all looking for last minute information or needing little problems fixing. I had to admit, even though my limbs were aching from their exertion over the last four weeks and my eyes were fighting to stay open, I wouldn’t have swapped places with him for all the tea in china. Still, at least I could give him a nice surprise for his centrepiece and not before time as the fete was already open and a small number of early arrivals were milling around.
With a flourish I yanked the covering off my creation and heard a laugh from James and a mix of gasps and swearing from the women behind me as the sunlight glinted off Perspex.
“How does it work then?” James asked, casting an approving gaze over my handiwork. I could see why he was impressed, it did look very imposing. Standing almost twelve foot tall there were two Perspex cells side by side with a four foot gap between them but connected at the top. Each cell had a Perspex ‘plank’ moulded into the structure of the cage at about waist height. The front door had a hole just above that plank which, in turn, had a sliding plastic section attached. By moving the plastic piece down the hole could be shrunk down from, oh say the size of a foot from toe to heel all the way down to the size of an ankle, effectively forming a slightly crude form of stock. The sides of the cage were covered with slits running from the plank up to a height of about six foot above the ground and wide enough to easily get a hand and arm through. The top section was still covered by another cloth though, that was a surprise I wanted to hang on to for a minute or two longer.
“Allow me to demonstrate” I replied, casting a glance over our pool of ‘volunteers’ and beckoning Rachel forward. Gorgeous with a lovely curvy body, great breasts, wonderful hair, huge brown eyes, a fantastic smile and, most importantly, my wife and therefore in on the whole deal she was perfect to demonstrate my evil invention. Dressed perfectly in tight white t-shirt and cut off denim shorts she was gorgeous.
She stepped forward and walked into the chamber, turning around so she faced the door, legs straddling the plank for a moment before sitting down as I shut the door. She slid her legs through the hole in the front and the ‘stocks’ slid down and held her securely (I’d made damn sure to smooth the edges until they were damn near perfect and as comfortable as possible). Her back was flush to the plastic of the cell, the whole thing acting almost as a giant chair. She put her hands out to the sides and her wrists and forearms slid easily through one of the plastic slits. I grabbed a pair of handcuffs that were attached either side of the tank and pulled them down, securing her wrists in place outside the tank. With a grin I reached up and turned a small hand crank, pulling the slack out of the chains on the handcuffs, stretching her arms up and exposing her armpits and ribs in the process. When there was only an inch of slack left I stopped winding, reached up and hit a safety button. A low chime rang out, a warning klaxon that the system was now armed designed, more or less, to mess with the mind of whoever was inside the cell. With a grin I yanked the other cloth away to reveal a massive tank above the cell filled to the brim with glistening green gunge.
Now I only heard swearing from behind me from our ‘volunteers’ but I ignored it as I carried on with my demo. “Girls, if you’d take positions around the cell, one of you to each hole, one to each foot please.” They did as I asked, muttering to themselves as they did so and casting glances at the OTHER cell as they went past.
“This really is a very simple game. Now normally there’d be someone in both tanks but as this is a demonstration we’ll keep things simple. The objective is very simple, make the girl in your tank pull down on their restraints. If they do that, a sensor is tripped, they loose the round and whoever was touching her at the time wins a five pound prize. It costs a pound per person for a minute of time and the only rule is they can’t cause pain or actually pull the girl’s arms down. Other than that, anything goes and up to six people can go at a cell at one time.”
James nodded approvingly as he worked out the maths, no matter what happened if it was at all popular he’d stand to make a decent amount of money off this attraction for the local causes supported by the fete. Not wanting to waste any time I gestured to the girls : “Okay ladies, do your worst. Oh, and when you hear that klaxon go again you may want to step back…”
I had expected the demo to take a while, Rachel is normally pretty good at resisting what I knew would be a tickle torture session after all. What I hadn’t counted on was that several of the women surrounding her were none too pleased at the situation and figured she must have known all along and could have told them (as it happens that was true enough so they did have a point). They dived in to the attack, the two at her feet placing their mouths over her toes and simultaneously licking between her toes and running their teeth over her soles. Hands dove through the slots in the cage to tickle her thighs, hips, ribs and armpits, racing over her flesh.
I think it must have caught Rachel by surprise as well as she exploded with laughter. I hadn’t heard her do anything quite like it in all our time together but within seconds she was howling, her head thrashing back and forth, her hair whipping back and forth, laughter pouring out of her mixed with gasps and snorts as she tried to breathe. Someone, I think it was Claire but I couldn’t swear to it, reached through the slots at the side of the cage, wrapped her hands around Rachel’s knees and squeezed. Rachel’s eyes went wide and she lurched forward, pulling down on the restraints as she did so. The klaxon rang and the girls cheered even as they hopped backwards.
Five seconds after the klaxon went the tank above her opened. A tidal wave of green gunge flowed down, covering her, no, actually obliterating was a much more accurate word. It was pretty thick stuff and there was almost two hundred litres in the tank with a nice large hole to drop it through. Even so it took almost twenty seconds for the flow to stop and, when it did, the beautiful curves of my wife were hidden beneath a blob of green gunge that looked like something out of a fifties B movie. The restraints on her wrists clicked open on their own and she brought her arms back inside the cell, wiping the gunge from her eyes as I reached forward and released her feet from the ‘stocks’ and opened the door. She got out, carefully as the gunge was surprisingly slippery, and headed for a large tent about twenty feet away were we’d set up changing and shower facilities for the girls. There was an outbreak of applause from a crowd I hadn’t noticed gathering and I turned with a smile, arms opened wide:
“And that’s how the game is played Ladies and Gentlemen. Now, who is to be our first pair of contestants….” I paused, letting the moment build as I turned to the group of five women who pulled together slightly under my gaze. “ How about this matchup my friends…. A blonde… “ I pulled Claire gently from the group “ And a redhead!” Mary followed suit. “Of course one of them will, very shortly, be given a free dye job!” It was a terrible joke but, as the two girls moved towards the cells it got a laugh from the crowd as they moved forward towards the ticket booth…
Thankfully it took a few minutes to get ready to sell to the already large (and growing larger by the second) crowd which gave me time to hook up the recycling pump to both tanks. A simple gasket in the bottom of each cell was attached to a hose, the pump was turned on and the gunge was sucked out into a holding tank on the ground a few feet behind the cells. The holding tank was actually a set of four individual tanks, two for each cell, so three full loads of gunge were available to ensure a quick turnaround time. It did take a couple of minutes to pump a full load up to the tank above the cell but as that was about the same time it took to get fresh victims in place and secured it wasn’t a problem.
Talking of which, both Claire and Mary were now well and truly secured in the cells. They were remarkably similar in terms of build, both about 5 foot 7 and slim although Claire definitely had a better ass and legs that the redhead. Neither looked too pleased about their current predicament, albeit for different reasons. Over the last few weeks, as I’d put together my shortlist of willing volunteers, I’d made sure to give each of them a chance to let me know how they felt about gunge, albeit in a theoretical sense. While none of them had reacted with revulsion (or I’d never have asked them to be part of it) Mary had been rather… reluctant. I suppose it’s the traditional attitude of people to this sort of thing, it’s icky and given the choice you’d rather be nice and clean somewhere else. Claire, on the other hand, had surprised me by admitting she was actually very turned on by the thought, especially in a public setting. For a while I’d wondered about not including her in the games for fear of her simply yanking down the instant the contest started. It was then that Rachel had reminded me of Claire’s competitive streak and, watching her face as the cuffs were attached, I was suddenly very glad we’d invited her. You could actually see the conflict in her mind between wanting to win and see her rival vanish under a torrent of, in this case, blue gunge and wanting to feel it falling over herself. I grinned at her and she shot me a look that was about 51% enjoyment and 49% a promise of revenge.
The first ten members of the public were brought up and there was a little bit of shoving as they each took up their favourite spot. I hit the button to arm the system, the klaxon sounded and we were off! The shriek of laughter that echoed over the site was almost biblical and I dashed round the front to get a clearer view (and get clear of the splash zone). Two guys had taken position by Claire’s feet and were gleefully attacking her soles with long, slow strokes of their fingers, their short nails finding every crease of her flesh. Another guy was running his hands over her knees in slow torturous circles while two women stood right behind the cell, their hands flying so fast up and down her cotton-covered sides they almost blurred. Claire’s face was a study in ticklish agony, her eyes screwed shut, her mouth wide open in helpless laughter. I had my doubts whether she’d last long at all which was good news for Mary.
Or at least it would have been except all five of her ticklers had decided to focus on her upper body. Two guys had their hands running all over her stomach and ribs, a girl who couldn’t have been much older than eighteen was running both hands gently and irritatingly around her neck while the remaining two guys had focused in on her arms, running their fingers from the edge of the cuffs all the way down to her armpits before whirling them round in tight, ticklish circles and tearing off back up her arms to do it all again. Mary’s eyes were wide open and her breath was coming in shallow gasps as she shook her head, red hair flying everywhere as she was clearly struggling to keep control.
Both women were clearly desperate to avoid the gunging that loomed large in their futures and were putting everything into holding their arms in place. There was a large crowd gathered around the cells now cheering on the ticklers, clearly looking forward to seeing one of the two gorgeous victims dripping in slime. A large electric clock above the cells flicked into life and started a ten second countdown which the watching crowd eagerly joined in with. Both girls were straining to hold on, knowing that when the counter reached zero they’d get a few seconds respite as their ticklers were replaced by the next batch of paying punters. A cheer went up from the crowd as they did the last 3….2….1….0! I saw both women relax as their tormentors pulled back… then Mary almost jumped out of her skin as fingers returned to her hips and dove down, flicking and tickling like a feather-tipped knife. She screamed and twisted trying to work out what was going on and why she was still getting tickled. But the attack had taken her by surprise and as another hand grabbed her other hip and dug in she couldn’t resist trying to curl up. The klaxon rang and the guy who’d kept on tickling her danced back in triumph, clearing the drop zone. Claire twisted her head to watch her rival with a massive grin on her head.
“Hey, wait, he cheated!” Mary yelled before wisely closing her mouth as gallons of blue gunge descended upon her luscious red hair. It seemed to explode as it hit her head and a scream pierced the air as she found herself drenched from head to foot in a matter of seconds. This particular mix was a little thinner than the green and was over a little quicker but my god she looked good at the end of it. The blue seemed to cling to her skin giving her a weird, otherworldly appearance especially where her natural hair colour poked through its new, and free, dye job. As a couple of helpers undid the restraints I got on the microphone of the PA system.
“Actually Ladies and Gentleman, that was perfectly legitimate. Mr Walker here just paid for two minutes instead of one so had the right to continue tickling when the others had to pull back. He gets the full prize and those about to come up will be asked to wait just a moment while we get two new victims for your viewing pleasure.”
I don’t think Mary was too happy with me as she stomped off to the changing tent but I was pretty sure she’d get over it soon enough. Claire was released and started stretching her shoulders to ease the tension from her muscles as two more of our victims were moved into position. I did another check of the recycling system and, satisfied it was working properly, left the stall in the capable hands of my assistants and went for a walk around the fete.
I’d made it almost to the other side of the field when the screams of laughter reached my waiting ears. It was a wonderful sound, floating on the breeze and remarkably clear. There was a slight slope to the hill and I could just about make out the cells from my vantage point. The light glittered off the Perspex like some futuristic prop from a sci-fi movie and the tanks above seemed to vanish, the gunge appearing to float in mid air. To my surprise the two girls in the tanks were putting up a fair old fight and I saw the group around them get changed twice before one of them cracked. I’d never seen a gunging from such a distance before and it was fascinating. The gunge dropped straight down in a perfect cylinder until it made contact with its victim. Then it spread outwards almost as if it had hit an umbrella and flowed down her body before splashing out along her thighs. It was a very impressive sight indeed and I made a note to get a camera setup somewhere suitable to capture the moment.
The afternoon wore on and things were going well. All of our volunteers had had at least two goes in the cells and all had gotten covered at least once. Well, all except one. Much to the annoyance of the rest of the girls Claire was still clean and fresh having held out not once but twice. The crowd didn’t seem to mind too much but there was a definite feeling that they wanted to see her get it the next time she was in the firing line so I had a quick think and came up with a devious little plan.
The next time the tanks emptied I arranged for Claire and Rachel to be playing against each other. Knowing both women as I did I was sure that both would be fighting hard to win and both would, hopefully, forgive me for the dirty trick I was about to play. This time we did things a little differently with each girl standing in the cell, legs spread out either side of the ‘plank’. Extra cuffs were attached to their ankles and connecting ropes run up to the d-rings on the ankle cuffs. Now, even the smallest movement of either arms or legs would trigger the drop. That was a good start but I wanted to raise the stakes a little bit (and, yes, I wanted to make sure we’d see Claire get gunged as well. Sue me). I took the microphone again:
“Ladies and Gentleman, thank you for your support up to this point. Your generosity has been astonishing and we’d like to remind you that all money raised today goes to support local good causes. With that in mind, we’re going to have a very special contest for you. These two gorgeous women are, as you can see, at your mercy but we’re going to change the rules slightly. This will be a best of five contest and, to make things even more interesting, we’re not going to empty the cell between rounds. Which means that one of these two young and beautiful women is going to end up standing in about four foot of gunge and one of YOU is going to make that happen!”
I paused to let the cheer die down and enjoy the looks of anger from both Rachel and Claire.
“Now as we’re doing this contest a little differently we’re going to change things around a little on how you can take part as well! We’ve got ten spots available here and we’re going to auction them off. Let’s start the bidding at five pounds!”
The bidding went on for at least five minutes and ended up raising twenty-five pounds per person. Not bad at all for a simple little event like this and worth the complaining I’d have to endure from both women later on. The ten lucky winners were soon in place, we armed the system and our winners went to work.
It was, I think vicious is the only word that does it justice. With both victims standing the feet were no longer available but that just seemed to inspire the ticklers to new and creative heights. All of them concentrated on the legs with thighs and knees subject to an unrelenting assault of squeezes and pokes, fingers racing up and down from the knees across the calves and shins, whirling round the ankles and across the top of the feet. Booth women had their eyes squeezed shut and were howling with laughter although Claire was already far higher pitched than Rachel and becoming more desperate with every passing second. One of the girls tickling her thighs went higher and higher until she was tickling the point where thigh met ass. The instant her fingers hit that spot Claire’s eyes popped open and she screamed, honest to god screamed, with laughter. She danced away from those probing fingers and the klaxon rang. Her tormentors grinned and stepped back, waiting for the torrent they knew was about to hit their victim. Rachel turned her head to watch as Claire tucked her head in as best she could. The slots at the very bottom of the tank were quickly sealed with a set of custom-cut gaskets and the world seemed to hold its breath…
The torrent of green gunge hit her with a splat. It had been recycled a couple of times and for some reason it had thickened each time until it now seemed to ooze rather than flow. It slid down her head and over her shoulders, coating her body, caressing her as it headed for the ground. I was watching closely as the crowd roared their approval and saw her shiver as it passed down her front, over her waist and coating her curvy butt and slim legs as it started to pool around her feet.
It took maybe a minute for the tank to empty itself out and when it was over she was standing in thick sludgy gunge up to her knees. Rachel was grinning at her as Claire looked over towards Rachel, shaking the gunge out of her eyes and glowering at her opponent. The ticklers were already moving back to their stations and it became obvious very quickly that Claire was in real trouble. Her willpower was still strong, I’d often thought if we could figure out a way to harness that particular resource we’d solve the world energy crisis overnight, but her body was reeling. More importantly her ticklers now knew a spot that was sheer hell for her and suddenly ten hands went straight for her hips, the very tops of her thighs and her ass. She howled as they made contact and groaned as torture crossed the fine line into pleasure for a brief, wonderful second. Beside her Rachel was doing a fantastic dolphin impression as hands goosed her ribs but she’d seen what was happening to Claire and was drawing strength from it.
A pair of hands wormed their way between Claire’s legs and fingers fluttered against the very top of her thighs. She let out a noise that was part scream, part laugh and part moan and a full body shudder raced through her. The klaxon went and another cheer went up. The next set of gaskets went in and the tank opened wide…
A flood of red gunge descended on Claire’s helpless body, far more liquid than the green gunge and hitting her like the worlds largest power shower. She was covered in moments and the bottom of the tank filled up rapidly, rising up her legs and covering her crotch before stopping somewhere just above her waist. The look on her face was a mix of revulsion and delight as the gunge seeped in all around her and found its way into places normally reserved for her master. She squirmed at the sensations coursing through her body and knew with a sinking feeling that she was likely to loose three nil.
To be honest I’d have thought that myself but hadn’t taken into account the ticklers around Rachel. They’d been watching Claire’s group and had seen exactly what had gotten such a reaction from someone who’d survived two previous trips to the tank. As a result they used the same tactics when the third round started on their victim and the results were immediate. Rachel howled and shook her head as fingers raced over the tops of her legs, hips and butt, dark hair flying like whips. Making matters worse for her was the gunge had now covered Claire’s arse and the ticklers around her were focusing on her upper body, which wasn’t quite as effective. It was once more a one sided affair but now the scales had tipped and it was Rachel that couldn’t resist yanking away.
The torrent that hit her was blue and damn near perfect as far as gunge went. It flowed like water but stuck and oozed wherever it touched. It coated her flesh and clothing, leaving her white t-shirt dangerously close to see through and clinging wonderfully to her curves. As her legs were shorter than Claires she found herself covered with gunge up to the tops of her thighs. It wasn’t quite touching her crotch but it would take only the smallest drop to make that happen and what was waiting above her was a hell of a lot more than that. She looked fabulous as the gunge dripped from her face and she shook her vision clear, the expression of worry on her face clear to those at the very back of the by-now huge crowd.
She needn’t have worried however. Claire’s ticklers had no intention of loosing this contest and as soon as the next round started one of the girls shoved their arms into the pool of gunge up to the bicep, reached down and tickled her ass. Claire hadn’t expected it and was caught utterly off guard. I don’t know if those fingers touched somewhere they shouldn’t in the murk or if it was just the mix of tickling and gunge but Claire’s eyes bugged out, she gave a deep, guttural grunt and gave a massive tug on her restraints as she came. The klaxon range but I quickly hit the override switch, holding the final drop.
We got Rachel out of her cell, dripping blue gunge and looking spectacular. She made her way over to Claire’s cell and stood behind it, pushing a hand through one of the slots and grabbing a good handful of formerly-blonde hair. I handed her a simple trigger and she grinned as she pulled Claire’s hair hard enough to make sure she had no choice but to lean her head back. As soon as Claire was looking straight up Rachel hit the trigger, the Klaxon blared, Rachel dropped the now-useless trigger, plunged the other hand through another slot and goosed Claire’s ribs. The timing was perfect as Claire shrieked with laughter just as the final torrent of gunk dropped into her upturned face.
The noise was…. Well, frankly, it was indescribable. A mix of laughter, screeches of rage, moans of delight and something animalistic all screamed underwater. She thrashed and writhed in her restraints as the black gunge drenched her, Rachel letting go of her hair and jumping back to get a good view. The final layer of gunge descended like the wrath of the gods covering her up to her shoulders, leaving her encased in Perspex, just a head floating on a sea of black. And as good as she looked standing there like some strange, exotic piece of living art she looked ten times better when we emptied the tank and got her out to a round of applause from the crowd that dwarfed any that had come before. Rachel hugged her and together they made their way to the tent to shower and change. I almost went in to join them but decided to give them some privacy. After all I had my hands full with the requests.
Yes, requests. The crowd seemed to be drawn to the cells and I was getting dozens of requests for people to play the game against friends or, in some cases, enemies. I did the best I could to accommodate them all, just making sure that everyone that played realised they could be getting out drenched and messy. The rest of the afternoon passed in a blur of flesh, some beautiful, some not but all willing and having a great time which is what really matters.
In the final reckoning it all worked out very well. By ourselves we raised a couple of thousand pounds by the end of the day. The general consensus was that we were an absolute hit with the paying public and certainly everyone that took part had a great time. We actually had a fair few people come up to us afterwards and ask if they could talk to us about this whole tickling thing some time. We, of course, directed them to the Tickle Brits series of web sites (the UK’s premier tickling community don’t you know….) and actually ended up with a couple of dozen new members. And, of course, I ended up with a couple of very nice gunge tanks which, late one night in a secluded garden in deepest, darkest London, saw Rachel and Claire having a rematch…. Only this time without the hindrance of clothes getting in the way of that lovely gunge.
