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The Depression Treatment M/F explicit

JustSwimmingLee

Registered User
Joined
May 29, 2022
Messages
11
Points
3
One day while browsing the internet, I saw an add for a depression study. “Depression will be cured, or you will be compensated $500 for your time”… it seemed interesting. I wasn’t too hopeful, but even if it didn’t work, I was short on cash so I responded. The next day I show up at a creepy building that looked abandoned. I opened the door and could see I was at the right place because the entire room was set up like a lab/research facility. A crazy looking scientist greeted me. He led me inside and I could see all these machines and equipment and robots he built. I look around and feel a wave of uneasiness come over me, I’m becoming increasingly more suspicious as he shows me around the lab and everything he built. I tried to leave but I was locked in. I told him that I wanted to leave, but he told me that the doors wouldn’t unlock until we completed the study.

The first thing he made me do was to lay down on what looked like a regular exam table. He pushed a button on a remote and suddenly metal cuffs popped out of the table and snapped onto my wrists and ankles. “What the hell is this?! Let me go!”, I lay there yelling at him helplessly, while he is just circling the table looking over my body. Then suddenly he said “Mhm I know what I must do first”. “Let me go!! You’re batshit fucking crazy!”. He told me that it wasn’t very nice to call people crazy… and he took my shoes and socks off. He took some notes on a clipboard. Then he started asking me all these questions… “How long have you had depression?”… “Do you take any medications?”… “When did you last get a pedicure?”… “How often do you laugh/when is the last time you laughed?”… then of course “Are you ticklish?”… I started yelling at him again, begging him to let me go, now knowing for sure what was about to happen. But it was too late, he was already wiggling his fingers over my feet. Despite my best efforts to resist, giggles started escaping my lips almost instantly. I begged him to stop, but he just kept going. “Please don’t tickle my feet!”. “Don’t worry, I can tickle somewhere else!” He walked towards the top of the table and held his hands over my armpits. “Please, no.” He started tickling my armpits, ribs, belly, hips, thighs, and everything else he could get his grubby little hands on. I laughed hysterically as his onslaught continued for what felt like an eternity. When he finally stopped, he told me it was time to move on to the next piece of equipment. He led me to another table, but this one had a set of stocks at one end and a set of cuffs with a crank at the other end. He told me to lay down. He locked my feet in the stocks, and then closed the cuffs around my wrists. He turned the crank, tightening the chain attached to the cuffs until my body was stretched tight. I couldn’t move an inch so I started to panic. I really hoped he wasn’t going to tickle me again. But he DID tickle me again. I laughed even more than before, finding myself more vulnerable on this table. He took some more notes before releasing me and leading me to the next piece of equipment, a chair with cuffs to hold your arms straight up against the back of the chair and another set of stocks on it, this one with several strange ties on it that I imagined were going to hold my toes still. I didn’t think I could stand any more tickling. Especially if I wouldn’t be able move my toes now either. “Please, I don’t want to do this anymore! I’ll do anything!”. But my pleas fell on deaf ears as he forced me into the chair.


then the chair that’s like an x-frame kinda, then he hung me from the ceiling by my wrists, then hung me upside down by my ankles, he put me in like this fucking magician box with only my feet sticking out)… and he kept repeating the tests. He started taking away more and more of my clothes until I was naked. Then he took me to this other little room with a table with every goddamn tool imaginable on it and the stocks chair was in there cuz he decided that was the best piece of equipment from the tests.

He put me in the chair and pulled a cord on the ceiling that just dumped oil all over me. Then warm air started blowing on me from all directions. He blindfolded me. Then he injected me with something… that by itself supposedly was gonna make me 2-5 times more ticklish than I already was… then add that to the heat, oil, blindfold, and being naked…… so now I was probably the most ticklish person on earth. He said this was the last test but I didn’t want to do it. I started yelling and begging and crying. Soooooo he FUCKING gagged me too (🙄 asshole!)… there was literally like 60 different tools on that table and he said he was going to have to test every single one on every single spot on my body.

He tested everything, and I was a mess when he was done. I was glad it was finally over… then he told me that it actually wasn’t over because the “test results” showed that I needed another “more intensive” test. Then all these robots that he built came rolling in 🙄 he shared his notes with them and suddenly all the robots were surrounding me and they all had whatever the best tool for the spot they were positioned at was. Then he, of course, positioned himself between my legs with a handful of paintbrushes and feathers and a box of different vibrators.

He said that based on his calculations that this intensive treatment of the worst tickle torture imaginable and having at minimum of 10 orgasms should cure my depression. So he and the robots got to work torturing me. It went on for a least an hour. Laughing, screaming, crying into the gag until I had no voice left. Can’t forget the orgasms. For some reason each one became more intense. My body was completely overwhelmed. I had about 14 orgasms, peed a couple times, and passed out. When I woke up he said I was cured and sent me on my way. As soon as I got outside of the facility the entire building vanished… and that was the end. Or at least all I can remember.
 
I like this concept - unwitting TICKLISH damsels and crazy scientists with a thinly veiled tickling fetish.
 
Huh. If only it was that easy. People would save a ton of money on anti-depression medication. Unfortunately, the only person I know with diagnosed depression, my best friend, also isn't the slightest bit ticklish at all anywhere on her body. So even if this was a legitimate treatment, I don't think it would work for her...
 
Whoa, that sounds like a wild experience! Being locked in a lab isn't exactly what you sign up for with a depression study. If you're still on the lookout for help, have you considered AI therapy? It's a more modern and less creepy approach that some find effective.
 
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