KITTLETOWN FOUR
By Max Speer
Chapter Two
We Have Ways Of Making You Talk
The two girls parked on a sandy side street somewhere in Mission Beach. They ran from their car, laughing, racing to get to the sands. It took them four days of almost constant driving. Jamie was exhilarated at the beauty of the South, but it was Amy that was truly amazed. The simple fact was that, no matter where they stopped their car to get food and gas, no one tickled them. They were gawked at and flirted at but no tickling. The girls had to admit that they were a little disappointed but it only helped to solidify their beliefs that there something very abnormal about Kittletown.
Jamie pushed Amy aside as she leaped over the cement wall and crashed into the hot sand.
"Aaaaaiiiiii Yeah!" she said throwing it up in the air.
"We made it, girlfriend," Amy said. "We're 3000 miles away from Kittletown and no one knows where we are."
She noticed Jamie looking sad. "What's the matter? Your folks?"
"Yeah," said Jamie, "I keep thinking about that letter I left Mom. They're probably crying all the time. They might even have the cops looking for me."
"Jamie, don't worry. We're on a mission. We're gonna save the world. They have to understand."
"I know, but I can't help but think about them. I miss them."
* * *
Just few days before, Barbara was at home ironing her dresses and watching the soaps when I walked in with Claude, Gregory’s most trusted bodyguard.
"Honey," I said. "This is Claude. He's here to ask you a few questions."
Barbara looked suspiciously at Claude, then at me.
"Mrs. Mayer," Claude began slowly. "Jim here has informed me that you know the whereabouts of your daughter, Jamie, and her friend, Amy. I was wondering if you could tell me. Amy’s parents are worried sick about her."
Barbara looked long and hard into the man's face. She knew something wasn't right. She looked at me, but I had to look away. She had changed. She was so much more powerful than I had ever known her. At the same time, she was so much sexier. She stood there in her sleeveless/midriff top and a khaki skirt. Her long, thin legs tapered down to her soft and delicate ankles. She wore strapped sandals on her feet.
"Why do you want to know where my daughter is? What business is it of yours?"
I began to speak but she stopped me and repeated the question to Claude.
"To tell you the truth, Ma'am, it's very much my business," Claude said sternly. "She and her friend have some crazy ideas and we think that they might get themselves hurt if they do what they set out to do."
Barbara held her stomach in disgust. She hated this man and looked away. "I'm not telling you anything, so go away. Mind your own business. This isn't a police state, yet."
I gently held Barbara's bare arms and drew her close to me. "Barb, please tell this man. They promise not to hurt the girls. They just want them home, like we do," but before Barbara had time to answer, she felt a pinprick on her butt.
"Ow!" she squeaked, turning quickly. Claude was holding a syringe. She was about to say something but a strong feeling of euphoria swept upwards and throughout her body, and all that she managed to say was, "Are you qualified to handle a needle?"
I sat Barbara on the couch. She was feeling extremely wonderful, yet extremely weak. Then, she felt herself being laid down on the couch and her wrists being lifted. She looked at my upside down image and giggled.
"Jim, hee hee hee, you're upside down, weeeee!!!!"
Her hands were brought down over her head and I held them firmly but gently.
Claude knelt down next to Barbara and whispered into her ear.
"Tell me, Barbara, dear. Tell me where your lovely daughter is."
Barbara saw Claude's hand over her face. Then it slowly lowered toward her left underarm. I marvelled at the convenience of the sleeveless shirt, leaving her very ticklish skin exposed in that way. Barbara was beginning to panic, but unable to move. She felt the fingertips touch and her underarm felt as if it were raw nerve-endings. The ticklish feeling was intense and she screamed; then a long, silent hysterical laughter where no sound emerged from her mouth.
Claude chuckled, enjoying this immensely. I did not know whether to hate the situation or be very turned on by my beautiful wife being tickled so intensely. When Barbara was finally able to let out the laughter she was uncontrollable. Claude was careful to touch her underarms very slightly as his other hand came into play.
Not as strong a dose as the original Formula that tortured Jamie and Amy, so long ago; this Formula was similar to the dose that Barbara was given at Feathers, only slightly stronger.
"Tickle tickle tickle, Barbara," Claude said as his fingers just grazed the extremely soft and ticklish surfaces of Barbara's smooth underarms. "Now tell me. Where is your daughter?"
Barbara couldn't speak. She was laughing too hard. Furthermore, the tickling was beginning to get her very sexually excited. She squeezed her legs together and the short, hem of her skirt began to rise. She wanted to put her hand between her legs but was unable to loosen my grasp. I, however knew my wife and what she was going through. I wanted to touch her there myself but we had more important business to deal with.
Instead, I bent down and placed light kisses on Barbara's cheeks. This tickled her as well but not nearly as much as Claude's fingers on her underarms. "Tell the man, Barbara, my love," I said whispering.
Claude let his gentle tickling go down to the surfaces of her ticklish ribs; up and down, touching the soft skin of her exposed sides. Barbara was squealing with laughter as Claude's fingers felt the ticklish ridges and let his fingers sweep across her bare belly. He tickled her belly button and, again, Barbara threw her head back, mouth open, and let the silent hysteria shoot through her. One can never truly describe the intensity that this tickling produced. Perhaps if you imagine the times that you were tickled to the point where you lost control. Now imagine that you were drugged so that you had no strength to thrash about. This is what Formula does to a person.
"I'll tickle your feet if you don't tell me, Barbara. Now, I've been patient with you so far," Claude said as if he were talking to a child.
"Please," Barbara pleaded through her laughter. "Don't tickle my feet. Hee hee hee hee hee Nooooo!!!"
I let go of Barbara's hands and she pulled them down and hugged her sides. Then she tried to swat Claude's fingers away, laughing. Claude liked this play since Barbara was so intoxicated and unable to make any contact with his hands. Claude looked like he was also feeling very excited since Barbara was so fetching, like a tipsy girl being tickled and teased. As she lifted a hand to swat his, he would insert a finger into the soft smoothness of her underarms and tickle her there. Barabra was in hysterics but she wasn't talking.
"Maybe you’re tickling her too much. Let’s see if she’s ready to talk," I said. I looked down at her. She looked so cute with her hair in her face and a big grin. That was the look of a woman who was just tickled. "Honey," I said softly. "Where’s our daughter. I’m worried about her."
Barbara looked puzzled. Then she said, "I’m worried about you, My Hubby."
"Why?" I asked, still patient. "Why are you worried about me?"
"Because you’re gonna be in so much trouble (she was singing this) when the shit hits the fan."
That really pissed me off.
I walked down to her feet. I slowly took off her sandals and saw the soft, pedicured feet, callous-free with pink-painted toenails. Claude warned me of being too intense, so I picked up a feather Claude had brought and touched the tip to the stiff quill against the area under Barbara's toes. I knew that she was very ticklish there.
My lovely wife let out another scream, followed by another moment of silent laughter. This time as she laughed, however, Barbara gripped herself between her legs. Claude and I looked at each other. This was a very sexy display.
"Speak to me, Barbara, and the tickling will stop," Claude said, but by the looks of her, it didn't seem apparent that Barbara wanted it stopped.
I let the feathertip stroke down a ticklish path from his intital point down the center of her soft foot to the heel and then, using a back and forth motion, tickled the center of her soft sole.
The din of Barbara's laughter was deafening and she squirmed and writhed, but was unable to reach my hand to stop it. Her bare arms grabbed at the air and her eyes were tightly shut. She was in a state of total torture, yet unable to move.
This tickling was sheer agony and Barbara's laughter took on a higher, more desperate pitch.
"She's in a transition, now," Claude said. "You got the right spot. Keep working her feet. This is the point where the tickling is absolute torture. She'd give out government secrets if she had them, now."
I continued drawing the feather’s tip up and down the soft soles of her ticklish feet. Barbara writhed, laughing so intensely that I feared she would asphyxiate. I stopped and she continued laughing and crying. Tears were dropping down her soft cheeks. I started to feel a little sick about everything.
Barbara still laughed for a full minute. When she was quiet she lied still, eyes closed.
"Barbara," Claude said. "Don't sleep or we'll tickle you again."
"No tickle. No tickle," Barbara said with slurred voice, as if in a dream.
"Tell me where is your daughter."
There was silence. Barbara lifted her hand and placed the back of it on her forehead. Claude reached up and tickled her underarm and she threw it down quickly. "Okay, okay okay okay," she said desperately. "California."
"Where in California?" Claude said. When she was silent he began to tickle Barbara's bare shoulders, trying to work his fingers into her underarms through the little cracks.
"San Diego!!!!" Barbara said suddenly laughing and twisting.
"Why San Diego?" I asked.
"Jamie has a friend there. She used to live in our old neighborhood. Jamie dated her brother once."
"Where in San Diego?" Claude said softly.
"I don't know. Really. I don't know. Jamie said they're going to San Diego, then to L.A., then to San Francisco. That's all I know, now please, no tickle, no tickle...".
I looked at Claude, who nodded and stood up. Barbara was already asleep, about to enter the bizarre dreamworld that comes with Formula.
Claude said pulling out his cellphone. "Hello Doc. Ticklish little Barbara told us her ticklish little Jamie is headed for San Diego. Right. Okay."
Claude hung up and patted me on the shoulder. "I promised you a promotion. You got it, and a raise and an increase in status. Come on, Jim. Let's get back to the office and contact some friends out in California."
By Max Speer
Chapter Two
We Have Ways Of Making You Talk
The two girls parked on a sandy side street somewhere in Mission Beach. They ran from their car, laughing, racing to get to the sands. It took them four days of almost constant driving. Jamie was exhilarated at the beauty of the South, but it was Amy that was truly amazed. The simple fact was that, no matter where they stopped their car to get food and gas, no one tickled them. They were gawked at and flirted at but no tickling. The girls had to admit that they were a little disappointed but it only helped to solidify their beliefs that there something very abnormal about Kittletown.
Jamie pushed Amy aside as she leaped over the cement wall and crashed into the hot sand.
"Aaaaaiiiiii Yeah!" she said throwing it up in the air.
"We made it, girlfriend," Amy said. "We're 3000 miles away from Kittletown and no one knows where we are."
She noticed Jamie looking sad. "What's the matter? Your folks?"
"Yeah," said Jamie, "I keep thinking about that letter I left Mom. They're probably crying all the time. They might even have the cops looking for me."
"Jamie, don't worry. We're on a mission. We're gonna save the world. They have to understand."
"I know, but I can't help but think about them. I miss them."
* * *
Just few days before, Barbara was at home ironing her dresses and watching the soaps when I walked in with Claude, Gregory’s most trusted bodyguard.
"Honey," I said. "This is Claude. He's here to ask you a few questions."
Barbara looked suspiciously at Claude, then at me.
"Mrs. Mayer," Claude began slowly. "Jim here has informed me that you know the whereabouts of your daughter, Jamie, and her friend, Amy. I was wondering if you could tell me. Amy’s parents are worried sick about her."
Barbara looked long and hard into the man's face. She knew something wasn't right. She looked at me, but I had to look away. She had changed. She was so much more powerful than I had ever known her. At the same time, she was so much sexier. She stood there in her sleeveless/midriff top and a khaki skirt. Her long, thin legs tapered down to her soft and delicate ankles. She wore strapped sandals on her feet.
"Why do you want to know where my daughter is? What business is it of yours?"
I began to speak but she stopped me and repeated the question to Claude.
"To tell you the truth, Ma'am, it's very much my business," Claude said sternly. "She and her friend have some crazy ideas and we think that they might get themselves hurt if they do what they set out to do."
Barbara held her stomach in disgust. She hated this man and looked away. "I'm not telling you anything, so go away. Mind your own business. This isn't a police state, yet."
I gently held Barbara's bare arms and drew her close to me. "Barb, please tell this man. They promise not to hurt the girls. They just want them home, like we do," but before Barbara had time to answer, she felt a pinprick on her butt.
"Ow!" she squeaked, turning quickly. Claude was holding a syringe. She was about to say something but a strong feeling of euphoria swept upwards and throughout her body, and all that she managed to say was, "Are you qualified to handle a needle?"
I sat Barbara on the couch. She was feeling extremely wonderful, yet extremely weak. Then, she felt herself being laid down on the couch and her wrists being lifted. She looked at my upside down image and giggled.
"Jim, hee hee hee, you're upside down, weeeee!!!!"
Her hands were brought down over her head and I held them firmly but gently.
Claude knelt down next to Barbara and whispered into her ear.
"Tell me, Barbara, dear. Tell me where your lovely daughter is."
Barbara saw Claude's hand over her face. Then it slowly lowered toward her left underarm. I marvelled at the convenience of the sleeveless shirt, leaving her very ticklish skin exposed in that way. Barbara was beginning to panic, but unable to move. She felt the fingertips touch and her underarm felt as if it were raw nerve-endings. The ticklish feeling was intense and she screamed; then a long, silent hysterical laughter where no sound emerged from her mouth.
Claude chuckled, enjoying this immensely. I did not know whether to hate the situation or be very turned on by my beautiful wife being tickled so intensely. When Barbara was finally able to let out the laughter she was uncontrollable. Claude was careful to touch her underarms very slightly as his other hand came into play.
Not as strong a dose as the original Formula that tortured Jamie and Amy, so long ago; this Formula was similar to the dose that Barbara was given at Feathers, only slightly stronger.
"Tickle tickle tickle, Barbara," Claude said as his fingers just grazed the extremely soft and ticklish surfaces of Barbara's smooth underarms. "Now tell me. Where is your daughter?"
Barbara couldn't speak. She was laughing too hard. Furthermore, the tickling was beginning to get her very sexually excited. She squeezed her legs together and the short, hem of her skirt began to rise. She wanted to put her hand between her legs but was unable to loosen my grasp. I, however knew my wife and what she was going through. I wanted to touch her there myself but we had more important business to deal with.
Instead, I bent down and placed light kisses on Barbara's cheeks. This tickled her as well but not nearly as much as Claude's fingers on her underarms. "Tell the man, Barbara, my love," I said whispering.
Claude let his gentle tickling go down to the surfaces of her ticklish ribs; up and down, touching the soft skin of her exposed sides. Barbara was squealing with laughter as Claude's fingers felt the ticklish ridges and let his fingers sweep across her bare belly. He tickled her belly button and, again, Barbara threw her head back, mouth open, and let the silent hysteria shoot through her. One can never truly describe the intensity that this tickling produced. Perhaps if you imagine the times that you were tickled to the point where you lost control. Now imagine that you were drugged so that you had no strength to thrash about. This is what Formula does to a person.
"I'll tickle your feet if you don't tell me, Barbara. Now, I've been patient with you so far," Claude said as if he were talking to a child.
"Please," Barbara pleaded through her laughter. "Don't tickle my feet. Hee hee hee hee hee Nooooo!!!"
I let go of Barbara's hands and she pulled them down and hugged her sides. Then she tried to swat Claude's fingers away, laughing. Claude liked this play since Barbara was so intoxicated and unable to make any contact with his hands. Claude looked like he was also feeling very excited since Barbara was so fetching, like a tipsy girl being tickled and teased. As she lifted a hand to swat his, he would insert a finger into the soft smoothness of her underarms and tickle her there. Barabra was in hysterics but she wasn't talking.
"Maybe you’re tickling her too much. Let’s see if she’s ready to talk," I said. I looked down at her. She looked so cute with her hair in her face and a big grin. That was the look of a woman who was just tickled. "Honey," I said softly. "Where’s our daughter. I’m worried about her."
Barbara looked puzzled. Then she said, "I’m worried about you, My Hubby."
"Why?" I asked, still patient. "Why are you worried about me?"
"Because you’re gonna be in so much trouble (she was singing this) when the shit hits the fan."
That really pissed me off.
I walked down to her feet. I slowly took off her sandals and saw the soft, pedicured feet, callous-free with pink-painted toenails. Claude warned me of being too intense, so I picked up a feather Claude had brought and touched the tip to the stiff quill against the area under Barbara's toes. I knew that she was very ticklish there.
My lovely wife let out another scream, followed by another moment of silent laughter. This time as she laughed, however, Barbara gripped herself between her legs. Claude and I looked at each other. This was a very sexy display.
"Speak to me, Barbara, and the tickling will stop," Claude said, but by the looks of her, it didn't seem apparent that Barbara wanted it stopped.
I let the feathertip stroke down a ticklish path from his intital point down the center of her soft foot to the heel and then, using a back and forth motion, tickled the center of her soft sole.
The din of Barbara's laughter was deafening and she squirmed and writhed, but was unable to reach my hand to stop it. Her bare arms grabbed at the air and her eyes were tightly shut. She was in a state of total torture, yet unable to move.
This tickling was sheer agony and Barbara's laughter took on a higher, more desperate pitch.
"She's in a transition, now," Claude said. "You got the right spot. Keep working her feet. This is the point where the tickling is absolute torture. She'd give out government secrets if she had them, now."
I continued drawing the feather’s tip up and down the soft soles of her ticklish feet. Barbara writhed, laughing so intensely that I feared she would asphyxiate. I stopped and she continued laughing and crying. Tears were dropping down her soft cheeks. I started to feel a little sick about everything.
Barbara still laughed for a full minute. When she was quiet she lied still, eyes closed.
"Barbara," Claude said. "Don't sleep or we'll tickle you again."
"No tickle. No tickle," Barbara said with slurred voice, as if in a dream.
"Tell me where is your daughter."
There was silence. Barbara lifted her hand and placed the back of it on her forehead. Claude reached up and tickled her underarm and she threw it down quickly. "Okay, okay okay okay," she said desperately. "California."
"Where in California?" Claude said. When she was silent he began to tickle Barbara's bare shoulders, trying to work his fingers into her underarms through the little cracks.
"San Diego!!!!" Barbara said suddenly laughing and twisting.
"Why San Diego?" I asked.
"Jamie has a friend there. She used to live in our old neighborhood. Jamie dated her brother once."
"Where in San Diego?" Claude said softly.
"I don't know. Really. I don't know. Jamie said they're going to San Diego, then to L.A., then to San Francisco. That's all I know, now please, no tickle, no tickle...".
I looked at Claude, who nodded and stood up. Barbara was already asleep, about to enter the bizarre dreamworld that comes with Formula.
Claude said pulling out his cellphone. "Hello Doc. Ticklish little Barbara told us her ticklish little Jamie is headed for San Diego. Right. Okay."
Claude hung up and patted me on the shoulder. "I promised you a promotion. You got it, and a raise and an increase in status. Come on, Jim. Let's get back to the office and contact some friends out in California."
