KITTLETOWN THREE
by Max Speer
CHAPTER FOUR
Back to the Future (six months later)
"Grandma, what big eyes you have."
The dreams started six months ago. Every night she would wake with the strangest dreams. Pam was having strange dreams too but was having a harder time remembering. Sandra was always able to remember her dreams, especially ones as unusual as these were.
She was Little Red Riding Hood. She wore a red cape with a red hood that covered her fiery red hair. Under the cape she wore nothing but a tiny bikini. She felt embarrassed by all her skin and tried to cover herself with the cape.
The Wolf, however, would take the hem and pull it away, revealing her body as she spoke.
"The better to see you with," the Wolf said with a glance over her naked torso.
Sandra grabbed her cape but the Wolf wouldn't let go. She struggled for a few seconds, then spied his long, furry fingers, tipped with extremely long and pointed nails.
"My, Oh my, Grandma, what big fingernails you have!"
"The better to TICKLE you with my dear!"
The Wolf jumped up and the 'Grandma' clothes fell away from his huge frame. He grabbed Sandra by the shoulders and lifted her. She kicked and struggled. At one point, she kicked so hard that her shoes flew off her feet.
The Wolf looked down at her bare feet and threw her to the bed. Then, he grabbed both of her ankles and held them together easily with his large hand.
Sandra tried to kick free but was helpless. She tried to reach up but he had her on her back and it took too much abdominal effort to try and lift her upper body enough to fend off the attack.
"The better to TICKLE you with, my dear," the Wolf repeated as he placed his long nails on Sandra's soft, sensitive feet and began to tickle.
Instantly, Sandra felt the most agonizing tickles that she had ever felt. The bottoms of her feet were unbelievably and un- bearably ticklish! She screamed and writhed, grabbing her face, her hair, the pillow, clawing at the Wolf. Nothing worked.
"Tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle,my Little Red Tickle Slave," the Wolf said with a cackle, as he tickled up and down her soles, over the balls of her feet and even the tops, scratching an agonizing trail of ticklish torture..
The Wolf reached under and tickled Sandra behind her knees causing her to whoop and holler, laughing so hysterically that no sounds came out for a time.
The Wolf dropped her feet and with the speed that only a Big Bad Wolf in a nightmare can achieve, was straddling her hips.
Instantly, the Wolf grabbed her thin wrists with his huge hand and slammed her hands over her head. Then, he pointed a single finger to the ceiling, turned it downward like a dive bomber and began to descend towards her exposed armpit.
Sandra screamed and laughed, trying to plead, but unable to form words through her laughter.
The Wolf 'tickled' the air and let it hover over her left armpit, just a few inches above the surface.
Sandra looked over at her smooth armpit and then to the face of the Wolf. It was smiling. Then she closed her eyes and tightened her body, waiting for the inevitable.
Suddenly, she felt the raw-nerve intensity tickling on her armpit and she screamed.
As Sandra sat up in bed, she felt the tickling sensation under her arm and began rubbing it to wipe away the sensation.
Pam entered her room wearing her tiny, baby-doll nightie, and rubbed her eyes.
"What's wrong, Sandra?" Pam said looking over at the wall clock which read 5:30 AM.
"Gosh, Pam. Oh Man!" Sandra said as she began to remember the dream. "I just had the weirdest dream that I ever had in my whole life. Man, Oh Man!"
Pam walked up and sat on her bed, crossing her long, thin, smooth legs. She let her foot dangle and bob as she tried to wake up enough to offer solace to her friend.
"I dreamed that I was Little Red Riding Hood." And the Big Bad Wolf was tickling the shit outa me. Man, I couldn't believe it. It tickled so much."
Pam giggled, then started to feel the tingle between her legs. She was used to that feeling. It came whenever she felt sexually turned on by tickling or the thought of tickling. Lately, it had been coming on very strong and very often, especially around Sandra.
"Where did the Big Bad Wolf tickle Little Red Riding Hood?" Pam said in a teasing manner as she crawled into the bed and laid next to Sandra, propping herself up on her elbow.
"Really, Pam, it was awful. He tickled my feet until I was dying. I swear. Then he tickled my underarm and I woke up."
"That doesn't seem so bad," Pam said, teasingly as she inserted her finger under Sandra's arm.
Sandra jerked her arm away and told Pam to stop in a mock crying manner.
"You're just a ticklish, little girl," Pam said, accenting her syllables with pokes at Sandra's ribs.
Sandra jerked and giggled saying, "You sound just like Hank Anderson when he pays for me. He likes me to dress up like a little girl so he could tickle the hell out of me. Stop it!!!! Pam!!! I'll get you!"
Sandra had had enough, and she turned and pounced on Pam. The two beauties in their baby-doll nighties began to tickle-wrestle, each trying to get the better of each other.
Pam was very ticklish and almost lost, but Sandra was far more ticklish when Pam, determined to tickle her lovely girlfriend, managed to climb on top of Sandra and pin her bare arms over her head.
"Is this what the Big Bad Wolf did to you?" Pam asked as she tried to hold on to both of Sandra's wrists with her left hand, leaning her body weight into the action.
"Yes, YES!" Pam said, giggling and trying to pull her arms down. "Let go of me, Pam, or I swear I'll get you. I put you in a Tickling Machine and throw the switch on 'high'. Then I'll leave the room for an hour."
"You wouldn't do that to me, would you, Sandy?" Pam started to tickle her finger down Sandra's bare arm.
"Don't...hee hee hee hee...call mee hee hee hee hee...Sandeeeee hee hee hee hee hee No No NO!!!! AAH ha ha ha ha AAH ha ha ha!!!!!"
Pam's finger stroked into the silky smooth ticklish hollow of Sandra's armpit and tickled. The gorgeous red-head laughed a shrill, musical giggle as Pam delighted at the touch of Sandra's arm on her fingertip and the feel of Sandra's body against hers. She tickled and tickled, feeling more and more turned on with the sounds of Sandra's laughter. She wanted, more than anything, to kiss this beautiful friend of hers but feared that Sandra would reject her, thinking her weird.
Instead, she leaned her face close to Sandra's neck and pretended to bite her. "GRRR!!! "I'm the Wolf, and I'm going to get you, little girl," she said.
Sandra laughed and laughed until she pleaded for Pam to stop because her stomach hurt. She stopped and Sandra continued to laugh and cough for a full minute.
Sandra pulled her arms down and held her stomach while Pam got up and sat back on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs. She was wet between her legs.
Sandra sat up and looked at Pam. "What is this tickling thing all about? Did you ever wonder about it? I mean, why would something like this be so big in one place?"
"I don't know," said Pam, pulling her hair back, "But I love it. I always loved tickling, I guess. Maybe I never realized it until I moved here."
"Did you ever wonder why we're more ticklish now than before?"
"Sandra, you were always ticklish. I should know. I tickled you so much."
"But I'm so ticklish now."
"I don't know," Pam said. "But let's get a glass of water and go back to bed. Do you want me to sleep with you so that little Sandy doesn't have another nightmare?"
"Not on your life," Sandra said. "You may tickle me in my sleep. And what's this 'Sandy' stuff? I'll get you for that."
With those words, Sandra chased the giggling Pam into the living room and tickled her ribs, causing the ticklish Pam to fall to the floor.
* * *
Hal and Eddie, two Tickle Punks, walked down the streets of Hollywood Boulevard. They had been the last two to go since Dr. Gregory had sent out his 'soldiers' months earlier. Tom and Bobby were the first. Many were sent after, to all states in the country. Each of the groups -- usually, at least. two in a group -- carried with them: two gallons of Formula, apparatus for injecting, plumbing tools, and, in some cases, portable Tickling Machines.
These portable models were not as advanced as the larger. Assembled, they looked like crosses with the horizontal cross larger than the vertical. The person could sit or stand or even walk while their arms were strapped out to each side and small probes traveled up and down the arms, along the sides and around the neck. There was an additional piece, shaped like a 'H' that was meant to strap to a victim's legs. The probes went up and down the legs and everywhere on and around the feet. Each of these sections could be used individually or together.
All of the Punks received their Zips via drop-off points.
Hal and Eddie had one Zip each. They walked down the streets of Los Angeles, gazing at pretty women, fingering the buttons on their zips in their pockets as if they were juvenile delinquents playing with the release buttons on their switchblades.
"Hey, Eddie," Hal, a tall, overweight boy of 17 said, nudging his shorter, leaner friend. "Check out the blonde waitin' for a bus."
The two, stared at a pretty teenaged girl with bright orange dyed hair. She was seated on a bench, waiting for a bus. The woman was dressed in a trendy mini-skirt with black fishnet stockings worn underneath. She seemed to be wearing layers of tops and vests, but all were sleeveless and midriff revealing exposing two shapely arms and a thin waist with protruding ribs. One of her shoulders bore a tattoo. Her hair piled up upon her, was tied with a thick elastic band. She chewed incessantly.
Hal nudged Eddie, obnoxiously. "Well, whattaya think? Wanna Zip her?"
"Let's do it," Eddie said, pulling out the Zip, which now, resembled a very thick, black pen with a red button. Gregory's team of engineers had worked day and night to reduce the size of the Zip and make it easier to use and more efficient.
Eddie pressed the button, looking down at a minuscule screen on the top of the devise that enabled him to see the exact location that the stream of tickling sound waves would hit.
Instantly, the girl shrieked and turned quickly around. Eddie had released the charge so the woman wouldn't create a scene by screaming and laughing at nothing in particular. They just wanted to hit and run. For all she knew, someone had walked past her and tickled her ribs. She had laughed but it was an instinctive reaction.
The Punks moved on down Hollywood Boulevard.
Hal pulled his Zip out as soon as he saw a woman in a tank top, washing the window of her store front. He pointed and shot from a half a block away and the Zip streamed through the air, hitting her right into the hollows of her armpits.
The cute brunette threw her arms down in a burst of giggles, wetting herself with the rag and whipped around to see the traffic of bodies moving down the street. It could've been anyone. She chuckled, shaking her head and reached up to wash the windows again.
Hal Zipped her again and the woman laughed harder. This time, she was concerned. Who was tickling her and getting away with it? She walked to the old man selling newspapers. He was close enough to run and tickle her. But how the hell was he able to get back? She walked to him.
"Ernie, did you tickle me?" she said with a nervous chuckle.
"Tickle you?" the old man said. "I can't even get up!"
"That's what I thought," said the woman.
Hal and Eddie walked past the bewildered woman, dropping a note printed on a 3x5 card.
The woman hadn't noticed it as they passed but spied it as she was getting ready to go back into her shop. She bent down to pick it up and read:
TICKLER OR TICKLED
It doesn't matter.
Only thing that matters is that you had a
laugh today.
Make someone laugh in return.
The woman read it disbelief. Who did this? What was it all about? How did they tickle me without my noticing? One thing was certain, though. She intended to tickle someone today, just for fun.
* * *
Dear Diary,
I hope no one finds this. If they did I would absolutely DIE! But I am troubled by feelings that I've been feeling lately.
The problem is the way I've been looking at Jamie. It seems that all I can think about anymore is tickling her. When she's reaching up to put away glasses I am staring at her underarms and wanting to tickle her there so much that I have to try and stop my heart from beating. The other day, she bent over to place an order on the table. I stared at her waist and almost dropped my own tray, thinking about tickling her ribs.
Another time, in the lounge, she took off her shoes and talked to me about her customers. I didn't hear what she was saying because I was staring at her hands rubbing her feet and imagining that it was me, tickling her soles while she laughed and begged me to stop.
Diary, I'm not through. It's not just Jamie, it's EVERYBODY! And also, it's me. I am getting so horny just writing the word 'tickle' down on paper. I know that I'm much more ticklish than I ever was. I know it has something to do with Dr. Gregory and the drug he gave me and Jamie.
See you later,
Amy
* * *
The phone rang at Vito's Pizza on Main and fourth.
"Jeffrey, will you get that order?," shouted Vito as he spun a huge floppy disc of dough high into the air.
Jeffrey lifted the phone and pulled a pen out of his ear.
"Hello? Yeah. Yeah. One large pizza ... plain ... okay. Address? Uh-huh ... uh-huh. Name? Shelly Callan. Okay. What'd you say? It's kinda noisy here. Who told you to call? Barbara ... May...er...
Oh wow!"
by Max Speer
CHAPTER FOUR
Back to the Future (six months later)
"Grandma, what big eyes you have."
The dreams started six months ago. Every night she would wake with the strangest dreams. Pam was having strange dreams too but was having a harder time remembering. Sandra was always able to remember her dreams, especially ones as unusual as these were.
She was Little Red Riding Hood. She wore a red cape with a red hood that covered her fiery red hair. Under the cape she wore nothing but a tiny bikini. She felt embarrassed by all her skin and tried to cover herself with the cape.
The Wolf, however, would take the hem and pull it away, revealing her body as she spoke.
"The better to see you with," the Wolf said with a glance over her naked torso.
Sandra grabbed her cape but the Wolf wouldn't let go. She struggled for a few seconds, then spied his long, furry fingers, tipped with extremely long and pointed nails.
"My, Oh my, Grandma, what big fingernails you have!"
"The better to TICKLE you with my dear!"
The Wolf jumped up and the 'Grandma' clothes fell away from his huge frame. He grabbed Sandra by the shoulders and lifted her. She kicked and struggled. At one point, she kicked so hard that her shoes flew off her feet.
The Wolf looked down at her bare feet and threw her to the bed. Then, he grabbed both of her ankles and held them together easily with his large hand.
Sandra tried to kick free but was helpless. She tried to reach up but he had her on her back and it took too much abdominal effort to try and lift her upper body enough to fend off the attack.
"The better to TICKLE you with, my dear," the Wolf repeated as he placed his long nails on Sandra's soft, sensitive feet and began to tickle.
Instantly, Sandra felt the most agonizing tickles that she had ever felt. The bottoms of her feet were unbelievably and un- bearably ticklish! She screamed and writhed, grabbing her face, her hair, the pillow, clawing at the Wolf. Nothing worked.
"Tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle,my Little Red Tickle Slave," the Wolf said with a cackle, as he tickled up and down her soles, over the balls of her feet and even the tops, scratching an agonizing trail of ticklish torture..
The Wolf reached under and tickled Sandra behind her knees causing her to whoop and holler, laughing so hysterically that no sounds came out for a time.
The Wolf dropped her feet and with the speed that only a Big Bad Wolf in a nightmare can achieve, was straddling her hips.
Instantly, the Wolf grabbed her thin wrists with his huge hand and slammed her hands over her head. Then, he pointed a single finger to the ceiling, turned it downward like a dive bomber and began to descend towards her exposed armpit.
Sandra screamed and laughed, trying to plead, but unable to form words through her laughter.
The Wolf 'tickled' the air and let it hover over her left armpit, just a few inches above the surface.
Sandra looked over at her smooth armpit and then to the face of the Wolf. It was smiling. Then she closed her eyes and tightened her body, waiting for the inevitable.
Suddenly, she felt the raw-nerve intensity tickling on her armpit and she screamed.
As Sandra sat up in bed, she felt the tickling sensation under her arm and began rubbing it to wipe away the sensation.
Pam entered her room wearing her tiny, baby-doll nightie, and rubbed her eyes.
"What's wrong, Sandra?" Pam said looking over at the wall clock which read 5:30 AM.
"Gosh, Pam. Oh Man!" Sandra said as she began to remember the dream. "I just had the weirdest dream that I ever had in my whole life. Man, Oh Man!"
Pam walked up and sat on her bed, crossing her long, thin, smooth legs. She let her foot dangle and bob as she tried to wake up enough to offer solace to her friend.
"I dreamed that I was Little Red Riding Hood." And the Big Bad Wolf was tickling the shit outa me. Man, I couldn't believe it. It tickled so much."
Pam giggled, then started to feel the tingle between her legs. She was used to that feeling. It came whenever she felt sexually turned on by tickling or the thought of tickling. Lately, it had been coming on very strong and very often, especially around Sandra.
"Where did the Big Bad Wolf tickle Little Red Riding Hood?" Pam said in a teasing manner as she crawled into the bed and laid next to Sandra, propping herself up on her elbow.
"Really, Pam, it was awful. He tickled my feet until I was dying. I swear. Then he tickled my underarm and I woke up."
"That doesn't seem so bad," Pam said, teasingly as she inserted her finger under Sandra's arm.
Sandra jerked her arm away and told Pam to stop in a mock crying manner.
"You're just a ticklish, little girl," Pam said, accenting her syllables with pokes at Sandra's ribs.
Sandra jerked and giggled saying, "You sound just like Hank Anderson when he pays for me. He likes me to dress up like a little girl so he could tickle the hell out of me. Stop it!!!! Pam!!! I'll get you!"
Sandra had had enough, and she turned and pounced on Pam. The two beauties in their baby-doll nighties began to tickle-wrestle, each trying to get the better of each other.
Pam was very ticklish and almost lost, but Sandra was far more ticklish when Pam, determined to tickle her lovely girlfriend, managed to climb on top of Sandra and pin her bare arms over her head.
"Is this what the Big Bad Wolf did to you?" Pam asked as she tried to hold on to both of Sandra's wrists with her left hand, leaning her body weight into the action.
"Yes, YES!" Pam said, giggling and trying to pull her arms down. "Let go of me, Pam, or I swear I'll get you. I put you in a Tickling Machine and throw the switch on 'high'. Then I'll leave the room for an hour."
"You wouldn't do that to me, would you, Sandy?" Pam started to tickle her finger down Sandra's bare arm.
"Don't...hee hee hee hee...call mee hee hee hee hee...Sandeeeee hee hee hee hee hee No No NO!!!! AAH ha ha ha ha AAH ha ha ha!!!!!"
Pam's finger stroked into the silky smooth ticklish hollow of Sandra's armpit and tickled. The gorgeous red-head laughed a shrill, musical giggle as Pam delighted at the touch of Sandra's arm on her fingertip and the feel of Sandra's body against hers. She tickled and tickled, feeling more and more turned on with the sounds of Sandra's laughter. She wanted, more than anything, to kiss this beautiful friend of hers but feared that Sandra would reject her, thinking her weird.
Instead, she leaned her face close to Sandra's neck and pretended to bite her. "GRRR!!! "I'm the Wolf, and I'm going to get you, little girl," she said.
Sandra laughed and laughed until she pleaded for Pam to stop because her stomach hurt. She stopped and Sandra continued to laugh and cough for a full minute.
Sandra pulled her arms down and held her stomach while Pam got up and sat back on the edge of the bed, crossing her legs. She was wet between her legs.
Sandra sat up and looked at Pam. "What is this tickling thing all about? Did you ever wonder about it? I mean, why would something like this be so big in one place?"
"I don't know," said Pam, pulling her hair back, "But I love it. I always loved tickling, I guess. Maybe I never realized it until I moved here."
"Did you ever wonder why we're more ticklish now than before?"
"Sandra, you were always ticklish. I should know. I tickled you so much."
"But I'm so ticklish now."
"I don't know," Pam said. "But let's get a glass of water and go back to bed. Do you want me to sleep with you so that little Sandy doesn't have another nightmare?"
"Not on your life," Sandra said. "You may tickle me in my sleep. And what's this 'Sandy' stuff? I'll get you for that."
With those words, Sandra chased the giggling Pam into the living room and tickled her ribs, causing the ticklish Pam to fall to the floor.
* * *
Hal and Eddie, two Tickle Punks, walked down the streets of Hollywood Boulevard. They had been the last two to go since Dr. Gregory had sent out his 'soldiers' months earlier. Tom and Bobby were the first. Many were sent after, to all states in the country. Each of the groups -- usually, at least. two in a group -- carried with them: two gallons of Formula, apparatus for injecting, plumbing tools, and, in some cases, portable Tickling Machines.
These portable models were not as advanced as the larger. Assembled, they looked like crosses with the horizontal cross larger than the vertical. The person could sit or stand or even walk while their arms were strapped out to each side and small probes traveled up and down the arms, along the sides and around the neck. There was an additional piece, shaped like a 'H' that was meant to strap to a victim's legs. The probes went up and down the legs and everywhere on and around the feet. Each of these sections could be used individually or together.
All of the Punks received their Zips via drop-off points.
Hal and Eddie had one Zip each. They walked down the streets of Los Angeles, gazing at pretty women, fingering the buttons on their zips in their pockets as if they were juvenile delinquents playing with the release buttons on their switchblades.
"Hey, Eddie," Hal, a tall, overweight boy of 17 said, nudging his shorter, leaner friend. "Check out the blonde waitin' for a bus."
The two, stared at a pretty teenaged girl with bright orange dyed hair. She was seated on a bench, waiting for a bus. The woman was dressed in a trendy mini-skirt with black fishnet stockings worn underneath. She seemed to be wearing layers of tops and vests, but all were sleeveless and midriff revealing exposing two shapely arms and a thin waist with protruding ribs. One of her shoulders bore a tattoo. Her hair piled up upon her, was tied with a thick elastic band. She chewed incessantly.
Hal nudged Eddie, obnoxiously. "Well, whattaya think? Wanna Zip her?"
"Let's do it," Eddie said, pulling out the Zip, which now, resembled a very thick, black pen with a red button. Gregory's team of engineers had worked day and night to reduce the size of the Zip and make it easier to use and more efficient.
Eddie pressed the button, looking down at a minuscule screen on the top of the devise that enabled him to see the exact location that the stream of tickling sound waves would hit.
Instantly, the girl shrieked and turned quickly around. Eddie had released the charge so the woman wouldn't create a scene by screaming and laughing at nothing in particular. They just wanted to hit and run. For all she knew, someone had walked past her and tickled her ribs. She had laughed but it was an instinctive reaction.
The Punks moved on down Hollywood Boulevard.
Hal pulled his Zip out as soon as he saw a woman in a tank top, washing the window of her store front. He pointed and shot from a half a block away and the Zip streamed through the air, hitting her right into the hollows of her armpits.
The cute brunette threw her arms down in a burst of giggles, wetting herself with the rag and whipped around to see the traffic of bodies moving down the street. It could've been anyone. She chuckled, shaking her head and reached up to wash the windows again.
Hal Zipped her again and the woman laughed harder. This time, she was concerned. Who was tickling her and getting away with it? She walked to the old man selling newspapers. He was close enough to run and tickle her. But how the hell was he able to get back? She walked to him.
"Ernie, did you tickle me?" she said with a nervous chuckle.
"Tickle you?" the old man said. "I can't even get up!"
"That's what I thought," said the woman.
Hal and Eddie walked past the bewildered woman, dropping a note printed on a 3x5 card.
The woman hadn't noticed it as they passed but spied it as she was getting ready to go back into her shop. She bent down to pick it up and read:
TICKLER OR TICKLED
It doesn't matter.
Only thing that matters is that you had a
laugh today.
Make someone laugh in return.
The woman read it disbelief. Who did this? What was it all about? How did they tickle me without my noticing? One thing was certain, though. She intended to tickle someone today, just for fun.
* * *
Dear Diary,
I hope no one finds this. If they did I would absolutely DIE! But I am troubled by feelings that I've been feeling lately.
The problem is the way I've been looking at Jamie. It seems that all I can think about anymore is tickling her. When she's reaching up to put away glasses I am staring at her underarms and wanting to tickle her there so much that I have to try and stop my heart from beating. The other day, she bent over to place an order on the table. I stared at her waist and almost dropped my own tray, thinking about tickling her ribs.
Another time, in the lounge, she took off her shoes and talked to me about her customers. I didn't hear what she was saying because I was staring at her hands rubbing her feet and imagining that it was me, tickling her soles while she laughed and begged me to stop.
Diary, I'm not through. It's not just Jamie, it's EVERYBODY! And also, it's me. I am getting so horny just writing the word 'tickle' down on paper. I know that I'm much more ticklish than I ever was. I know it has something to do with Dr. Gregory and the drug he gave me and Jamie.
See you later,
Amy
* * *
The phone rang at Vito's Pizza on Main and fourth.
"Jeffrey, will you get that order?," shouted Vito as he spun a huge floppy disc of dough high into the air.
Jeffrey lifted the phone and pulled a pen out of his ear.
"Hello? Yeah. Yeah. One large pizza ... plain ... okay. Address? Uh-huh ... uh-huh. Name? Shelly Callan. Okay. What'd you say? It's kinda noisy here. Who told you to call? Barbara ... May...er...
Oh wow!"
