Shannon’s Birthday
By Max Speer
Introduction
The day Shannon turned 18 she packed her bags and said her farewells to the farm. Uncle Hank was working in the fields and Aunt Helen went to town to shop at the General Store. She never left Shannon alone that long. Shannon knew this and figured that if they couldn’t legally stop her from leaving, they didn’t want to be there and get all sad and everything.
She strapped her large backpack shut and stood on the front porch. An overwhelming sense of sadness overtook her and she wondered if a ‘good-bye’ note was in order. No, she thought and walked down the creaky steps and out to the dusty road.
The drugstore was open and Shannon walked up to the counter, bought a pack of gum, a bus token and a can of pepper spray. Then, she walked outside and waited at the bus stop.
The bus came and the longhaired beauty entered the bus.
It was as easy as that.
Sitting in the back, she stared out the window at the town that she learned to dread. Looking around the bus, there was a young girl, sitting next to her mother. The mother was very pretty with short, light blond hair and a spaghetti-strap sundress. Her left arm was draped on the back of the seat and the little girl giggled as she stuck her finger under her mother’s arm and the mother pulled her arm down quickly and slapped her daughter’s hand, playfully as she giggled.
Shannon felt a flutter in the pit of her stomach. Tickling. She hated the fact that she was as ticklish as she was. She felt under her own arm and remembered all the torturous tickling she endured from stupid Luke in that spot. Then she looked down at her toenails, painted burgundy and exposed in her flip-flops. Her feet were horrifically ticklish as well. She wiggled her toes and looked out of the window.
"Bye, Bye, Miss American Pie…" Shannon sang softly to herself as the bus left the town and zoomed down the country road. Pretty soon, she would be at the train station and returning to the place that she loved; a place where her girlfriends lived; place where she would get a job and, maybe go back to school.
Shannon wriggled uncomfortably in her tight, orange sleeveless dress. Aunt Helen always made them just a little too small for her. The Birthday Girl was thrilled at the thought of buying her own clothes for once. She smiled and let the warm air caress her face.
Yes, things would be different from now on.
"Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday, Dear Shannon ….". Her soft reveling ended as she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.
**********************************
When Shannon awoke she was in darkness. At first, she thought she was waking up in her old bedroom in the house of Uncle Hank and Aunt Helen. She experienced a flutter in her stomach. Then the weight of her situation struck her. Apparently, she had fallen asleep and slipped down onto the seat so low that the bus driver had not seen her. She was in the bus station and alone. What was worse was that she had absolutely no idea where she was.
With a tug, she got up and pulled her bag, which was wedged, between the two seats. She lifted her arms and pulled her long hair back and tied it with a rubber band. Then she put the heavy knapsack onto her shoulders and, with another few tugs of the door, was out of the bus and into the warm night air.
"Where the frig am I?" she said to herself.
Any direction would work since there wasn’t a light showing anywhere. The bus station seemed to be in the middle of the woods. In reality, it was only several yards from the main road, but since no one was driving on the unlit highway, and there were no lights anywhere else, Shannon directed her search deeper into the woods.
The helpless girl was exasperated and felt like crying.
"Well, at least," She began, "At least I’m out of my Aunt and Uncle’s house."
The woods were alive with crickets and the croaking of frogs. It made her so uneasy that she removed the pepper spray from her bag and aimed it in front of her as she walked.
Suddenly, she heard the crunching of small stones and twigs in front of her.
"Hello?" she said, forcing her girlish voice to deepen. "Who’s there?"
"Is somewhere there?" A man’s voice answered.
"Don’t screw with me," Shannon said with a slight crack in her voice. "I have mace here and I will use it if you come any closer."
There was a pause and the man emerged with his hands up, as if Shannon had pulled a gun. He was well dressed and he smiled.
"I swear I am not going to hurt you," the man said as he stood a safe distance away. "I’m with a few of my friends and we have a little campfire and a little beer and, well, you’re welcomed to join us."
This was one situation that Shannon had wished she had never had to deal with. On one hand, she thought it would be fun to get together with some friendly people and have a few beers. On the other hand, she knew that she was quite pretty and young and not strong enough to defend herself if even one man tried to assault her. Still she was hungry and desperate and fearful that an even scarier person might find her in those woods.
"Okay," said Shannon, still aiming the pepper spray. "I’ll follow you but don’t do anything funny or you’ll get it. I swear. I just want some direction to the train station."
By the time she was done speaking they had arrived at a small campfire. Three young men were sitting around and smoking pot and cigarettes and drinking beer. They stood up when they saw Shannon and the man enter their area.
"Hey Jack," said one. "What have you brought us?"
Jack turned to Shannon who lowered her mace and then back to her friends. "This is, uh…".
"Shannon."
"Shannon," Jack repeated.
"Hi Shannon," they said. "Wanna beer?"
Shannon walked to the campfire and was about to put her pepper spray in her purse when one of the men said, "Wait a second. Shannon? Luke and Helen’s girl?"
Shannon panicked and began to lift her pepper spray but her hand hit the beer can that one of the men had extended towards her. The tiny pepper spray can fell to the ground and was swallowed up by the darkness. She wanted to run and turned towards the awaiting darkness when someone held her bare arm and she whipped around.
"Relax," the man said. "It’s no problem. Sit down and chill a little."
Shannon never felt more unsafe in her life. Why the hell did she accept that man, Jack’s invitation. She was afraid to say no and now she was hopelessly dependent on these strangers.
Feeling a little shaky, Shannon lowered herself to the fallen tree that they all sat on and, before she could say anything, found herself holding a lit joint. She looked at the men and, determined to be an adult, put it to her lips and drew it in.
Within a few moments, Shannon was quite high and also found herself holding a can of beer.
Suddenly, she was shocked to feel something run up the outside of her arm. The marijuana had increased her sensitivity and the finger created a very ticklish sensation on her.
"Wow," said one of the men. "You are so totally ticklish, aren’t you?"
Shannon smiled and said something that would lock her fate. "You have no idea," she said giggling. "My Aunt and Uncle used to TORTURE me by tickling me. They even set me up with this stupid dork named Luke who got his friends to torture me too. He had this ridiculous obsession with me. I was like his tickle doll or something crazy like that."
The beer and marijuana really started kicking in fiercely by this time because she was oblivious to the fact that someone had taken her wrists and lifted her two bare arms.
"Prove it to us," she heard from behind her. "Show us how ticklish you are."
Shannon was helpless to resist. She saw a blur in the fire of shadows approaching. Then she felt the unmistakable sensation of fingers on her underarms. They started to tickle her, wriggling quickly.
The helpless girl began to shake and squirm and twist, all the while laughing from the extraordinary ticklish sensations under her arms.
"Kitchee Kitchee Kitchee Koo…" she heard repeated as if they were tickling a little baby. "Tickle tickle tickle tickle."
"Man, she really IS ticklish. Look at her," one of them said as they gleefully continued to tickle the baby soft skin of her underarms. "She’s so smooth here," one continued. "Here, put your fingers right here and tickle her."
Shannon screamed as a new set of fingers fought for underarm skin. She lifted her body, feet planted on the ground and hips thrust forward. It looked more like a re-enactment of the exorcist then any real successful standing. Her body fell back against the fallen tree as a new succession of giggling and laughing shattered the night air.
"How about her feet?" she heard through the haze.
"No," Shannon said, still laughing. The fingers had stopped tickling her helpless armpits, but she saw a blur of hands move down towards her feet. Her flip-flops were grabbed and thrown up into the air and her ankles were now grabbed.
"Don’t tickle my feet!" Shannon yelled. "I’ll kill you, I swear it. Let me go." She wasn’t laughing. She was angry; angry with the men and even angrier with herself for falling into this situation.
The men were not intimidated. They were even higher than she was. They mocked her with a chorus of "Oooooh" and then started to scratch the extremely soft soles of Shannon’s now bare feet.
Her angry posturing was silenced in one second as she squeezed her eyes shut and threw her hair back, suffocating her captor with a mouthful of her waist-long hair. But it was the din of her hysterics that startled the men. She absolutely squealed in ticklish laughter. The tickling on her feet were destroying her. The reason for this was manifold. For one, they held her ankles tightly. At first, they were so surprised by her reaction to being tickled on her bare sole that they almost let the feet slip away. To prevent this, they held her very tightly.
Secondly, her feet, from the rubber flip-flops had developed a small layer of moisture. For some reason, the moisture heightened her sensitivity there.
And lastly, the feet so close to the fire, were warmed and the nerves were already excited. Put all those factors together and add a little marijuana and Shannon was in big trouble.
The men laughed and drank beer as they tickled the soles of her bare feet.
"This is for your wonderful Aunt and Uncle," she heard one of them say. "They deserve to be treated with respect, especially our Minister."
He was, of course, referring to the fact that Shannon knew that Uncle Hank was the town Preacher. Little did she know that he had created a parish of Ticklers.
"And this is for Luke," one of them say. "My brother!"
With that last statement, Shannon was about to say, "How many brothers does that dork have?" Instead of completing the sentence, Shannon felt, once again, ten fingers scribbling a ticklish path up and down and around her smooth armpits. She squealed and tried to pull her arms down. She almost succeeded since her instant reaction was so strong. But her captor had once again regained his strength and lifted her arms even higher. Her back was ramming against the front of him and the stimulation, along with the helpless situation of this sexy girl was turning him on. Her head was now thrown back and moving from side to side, undoing the band on her hair and, not only letting her long hair fall free, but rubbing his crotch. He snickered an evil laugh.
Now the poor 18 year old was being torturously, sadistically tickled on her bare soles and her hopelessly ticklish underarms, exposed, unfortunately in the sleeveless dress that was made by her Aunt Helen.
Suddenly the tickling stopped. Shannon had reached the point of silent laughter. The men, in their euphoria, misinterpreted this as Shannon not being able to breathe and they feared that she would choke.
"You okay?" she heard one say.
"Yeah," one answered. "She’s fine. Tickle her belly."
Shannon caught her breath and began to protest. "No no noooo!" she yelled but the last ‘no’ dissolved into giggling as their fingers began to tickle her tummy through her thin dress. They scribbled their fingers around her belly button area and pinched her sides right above her hips. She felt a pair of hands grab her ribcage and the combination of tickling made her twist back and forth in a very sexy way as she giggled helplessly.
"Tickle tickle tickle tickle," they repeated. "She is so totally ticklish, Dude," another said.
The fingers tickled up her ribs and scurried around her bare neck, over her ears and around her back and down her spine. This action made her shoulders hunch up as she tried to force her chin between those shoulders. Shannon was squealing once again and her staccato laughter sputtered out like machine gun fire.
Suddenly, someone lunged at her armpits and the fury of the tickling sent a strong signal to Shannon’s brain. She screamed bloody murder and her arms pulled free. But the tickling didn’t stop. He continued to let his fingers move in the limited space under her tightly closed arms. This intense tickling caused Shannon to fall over and off the stump and into the dried leaves behind her. Her legs were kicked up into the air until she felt them grabbed by someone. The underarm tickler fell onto his face and his fingers came loose from their tickle targets.
Just as Shannon was about to thank the Heavens for release, she felt a renewed tickling on her feet. She thrashed about this way and that and tried to reach up and detach the fingers that were torturing her sensitive soles but the tickling was so intense that she did not have the strength. Instead she fell back again into the leaves and thrashed about.
But as she thrashed her hand fell upon something hard in the leaves. It was her pepper spray. She inserted her finger into the trigger and raised her arm up and sprayed for her life.
Confusion and screaming ensued. The spray had also lifted the flames of the fire and she saw bodies scrambling this way and that, releasing her ankles and running for dear life.
The men scattered into the woods screaming in pain; blurred shadows clutching their faces. One man ran right into a tree and fell to the ground, moaning.
Shannon scrambled for her flip-flops. The now, enlarged flame illuminated the area. Not only could she see her bag and shoes, she saw the faces of her attackers.
"I have memorized every one of your faces and I am going to report all of you!" She barked at them.
Shannon grabbed a handful of leaves and threw it into the flame. The fire rose very high and spit sparks into the tree branches. But it was enough to see the path in the woods that she came in from.
The teenager ran into the path and disappeared into the night.
End of Part 1
By Max Speer
Introduction
The day Shannon turned 18 she packed her bags and said her farewells to the farm. Uncle Hank was working in the fields and Aunt Helen went to town to shop at the General Store. She never left Shannon alone that long. Shannon knew this and figured that if they couldn’t legally stop her from leaving, they didn’t want to be there and get all sad and everything.
She strapped her large backpack shut and stood on the front porch. An overwhelming sense of sadness overtook her and she wondered if a ‘good-bye’ note was in order. No, she thought and walked down the creaky steps and out to the dusty road.
The drugstore was open and Shannon walked up to the counter, bought a pack of gum, a bus token and a can of pepper spray. Then, she walked outside and waited at the bus stop.
The bus came and the longhaired beauty entered the bus.
It was as easy as that.
Sitting in the back, she stared out the window at the town that she learned to dread. Looking around the bus, there was a young girl, sitting next to her mother. The mother was very pretty with short, light blond hair and a spaghetti-strap sundress. Her left arm was draped on the back of the seat and the little girl giggled as she stuck her finger under her mother’s arm and the mother pulled her arm down quickly and slapped her daughter’s hand, playfully as she giggled.
Shannon felt a flutter in the pit of her stomach. Tickling. She hated the fact that she was as ticklish as she was. She felt under her own arm and remembered all the torturous tickling she endured from stupid Luke in that spot. Then she looked down at her toenails, painted burgundy and exposed in her flip-flops. Her feet were horrifically ticklish as well. She wiggled her toes and looked out of the window.
"Bye, Bye, Miss American Pie…" Shannon sang softly to herself as the bus left the town and zoomed down the country road. Pretty soon, she would be at the train station and returning to the place that she loved; a place where her girlfriends lived; place where she would get a job and, maybe go back to school.
Shannon wriggled uncomfortably in her tight, orange sleeveless dress. Aunt Helen always made them just a little too small for her. The Birthday Girl was thrilled at the thought of buying her own clothes for once. She smiled and let the warm air caress her face.
Yes, things would be different from now on.
"Happy Birthday to you. Happy Birthday, Dear Shannon ….". Her soft reveling ended as she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.
**********************************
When Shannon awoke she was in darkness. At first, she thought she was waking up in her old bedroom in the house of Uncle Hank and Aunt Helen. She experienced a flutter in her stomach. Then the weight of her situation struck her. Apparently, she had fallen asleep and slipped down onto the seat so low that the bus driver had not seen her. She was in the bus station and alone. What was worse was that she had absolutely no idea where she was.
With a tug, she got up and pulled her bag, which was wedged, between the two seats. She lifted her arms and pulled her long hair back and tied it with a rubber band. Then she put the heavy knapsack onto her shoulders and, with another few tugs of the door, was out of the bus and into the warm night air.
"Where the frig am I?" she said to herself.
Any direction would work since there wasn’t a light showing anywhere. The bus station seemed to be in the middle of the woods. In reality, it was only several yards from the main road, but since no one was driving on the unlit highway, and there were no lights anywhere else, Shannon directed her search deeper into the woods.
The helpless girl was exasperated and felt like crying.
"Well, at least," She began, "At least I’m out of my Aunt and Uncle’s house."
The woods were alive with crickets and the croaking of frogs. It made her so uneasy that she removed the pepper spray from her bag and aimed it in front of her as she walked.
Suddenly, she heard the crunching of small stones and twigs in front of her.
"Hello?" she said, forcing her girlish voice to deepen. "Who’s there?"
"Is somewhere there?" A man’s voice answered.
"Don’t screw with me," Shannon said with a slight crack in her voice. "I have mace here and I will use it if you come any closer."
There was a pause and the man emerged with his hands up, as if Shannon had pulled a gun. He was well dressed and he smiled.
"I swear I am not going to hurt you," the man said as he stood a safe distance away. "I’m with a few of my friends and we have a little campfire and a little beer and, well, you’re welcomed to join us."
This was one situation that Shannon had wished she had never had to deal with. On one hand, she thought it would be fun to get together with some friendly people and have a few beers. On the other hand, she knew that she was quite pretty and young and not strong enough to defend herself if even one man tried to assault her. Still she was hungry and desperate and fearful that an even scarier person might find her in those woods.
"Okay," said Shannon, still aiming the pepper spray. "I’ll follow you but don’t do anything funny or you’ll get it. I swear. I just want some direction to the train station."
By the time she was done speaking they had arrived at a small campfire. Three young men were sitting around and smoking pot and cigarettes and drinking beer. They stood up when they saw Shannon and the man enter their area.
"Hey Jack," said one. "What have you brought us?"
Jack turned to Shannon who lowered her mace and then back to her friends. "This is, uh…".
"Shannon."
"Shannon," Jack repeated.
"Hi Shannon," they said. "Wanna beer?"
Shannon walked to the campfire and was about to put her pepper spray in her purse when one of the men said, "Wait a second. Shannon? Luke and Helen’s girl?"
Shannon panicked and began to lift her pepper spray but her hand hit the beer can that one of the men had extended towards her. The tiny pepper spray can fell to the ground and was swallowed up by the darkness. She wanted to run and turned towards the awaiting darkness when someone held her bare arm and she whipped around.
"Relax," the man said. "It’s no problem. Sit down and chill a little."
Shannon never felt more unsafe in her life. Why the hell did she accept that man, Jack’s invitation. She was afraid to say no and now she was hopelessly dependent on these strangers.
Feeling a little shaky, Shannon lowered herself to the fallen tree that they all sat on and, before she could say anything, found herself holding a lit joint. She looked at the men and, determined to be an adult, put it to her lips and drew it in.
Within a few moments, Shannon was quite high and also found herself holding a can of beer.
Suddenly, she was shocked to feel something run up the outside of her arm. The marijuana had increased her sensitivity and the finger created a very ticklish sensation on her.
"Wow," said one of the men. "You are so totally ticklish, aren’t you?"
Shannon smiled and said something that would lock her fate. "You have no idea," she said giggling. "My Aunt and Uncle used to TORTURE me by tickling me. They even set me up with this stupid dork named Luke who got his friends to torture me too. He had this ridiculous obsession with me. I was like his tickle doll or something crazy like that."
The beer and marijuana really started kicking in fiercely by this time because she was oblivious to the fact that someone had taken her wrists and lifted her two bare arms.
"Prove it to us," she heard from behind her. "Show us how ticklish you are."
Shannon was helpless to resist. She saw a blur in the fire of shadows approaching. Then she felt the unmistakable sensation of fingers on her underarms. They started to tickle her, wriggling quickly.
The helpless girl began to shake and squirm and twist, all the while laughing from the extraordinary ticklish sensations under her arms.
"Kitchee Kitchee Kitchee Koo…" she heard repeated as if they were tickling a little baby. "Tickle tickle tickle tickle."
"Man, she really IS ticklish. Look at her," one of them said as they gleefully continued to tickle the baby soft skin of her underarms. "She’s so smooth here," one continued. "Here, put your fingers right here and tickle her."
Shannon screamed as a new set of fingers fought for underarm skin. She lifted her body, feet planted on the ground and hips thrust forward. It looked more like a re-enactment of the exorcist then any real successful standing. Her body fell back against the fallen tree as a new succession of giggling and laughing shattered the night air.
"How about her feet?" she heard through the haze.
"No," Shannon said, still laughing. The fingers had stopped tickling her helpless armpits, but she saw a blur of hands move down towards her feet. Her flip-flops were grabbed and thrown up into the air and her ankles were now grabbed.
"Don’t tickle my feet!" Shannon yelled. "I’ll kill you, I swear it. Let me go." She wasn’t laughing. She was angry; angry with the men and even angrier with herself for falling into this situation.
The men were not intimidated. They were even higher than she was. They mocked her with a chorus of "Oooooh" and then started to scratch the extremely soft soles of Shannon’s now bare feet.
Her angry posturing was silenced in one second as she squeezed her eyes shut and threw her hair back, suffocating her captor with a mouthful of her waist-long hair. But it was the din of her hysterics that startled the men. She absolutely squealed in ticklish laughter. The tickling on her feet were destroying her. The reason for this was manifold. For one, they held her ankles tightly. At first, they were so surprised by her reaction to being tickled on her bare sole that they almost let the feet slip away. To prevent this, they held her very tightly.
Secondly, her feet, from the rubber flip-flops had developed a small layer of moisture. For some reason, the moisture heightened her sensitivity there.
And lastly, the feet so close to the fire, were warmed and the nerves were already excited. Put all those factors together and add a little marijuana and Shannon was in big trouble.
The men laughed and drank beer as they tickled the soles of her bare feet.
"This is for your wonderful Aunt and Uncle," she heard one of them say. "They deserve to be treated with respect, especially our Minister."
He was, of course, referring to the fact that Shannon knew that Uncle Hank was the town Preacher. Little did she know that he had created a parish of Ticklers.
"And this is for Luke," one of them say. "My brother!"
With that last statement, Shannon was about to say, "How many brothers does that dork have?" Instead of completing the sentence, Shannon felt, once again, ten fingers scribbling a ticklish path up and down and around her smooth armpits. She squealed and tried to pull her arms down. She almost succeeded since her instant reaction was so strong. But her captor had once again regained his strength and lifted her arms even higher. Her back was ramming against the front of him and the stimulation, along with the helpless situation of this sexy girl was turning him on. Her head was now thrown back and moving from side to side, undoing the band on her hair and, not only letting her long hair fall free, but rubbing his crotch. He snickered an evil laugh.
Now the poor 18 year old was being torturously, sadistically tickled on her bare soles and her hopelessly ticklish underarms, exposed, unfortunately in the sleeveless dress that was made by her Aunt Helen.
Suddenly the tickling stopped. Shannon had reached the point of silent laughter. The men, in their euphoria, misinterpreted this as Shannon not being able to breathe and they feared that she would choke.
"You okay?" she heard one say.
"Yeah," one answered. "She’s fine. Tickle her belly."
Shannon caught her breath and began to protest. "No no noooo!" she yelled but the last ‘no’ dissolved into giggling as their fingers began to tickle her tummy through her thin dress. They scribbled their fingers around her belly button area and pinched her sides right above her hips. She felt a pair of hands grab her ribcage and the combination of tickling made her twist back and forth in a very sexy way as she giggled helplessly.
"Tickle tickle tickle tickle," they repeated. "She is so totally ticklish, Dude," another said.
The fingers tickled up her ribs and scurried around her bare neck, over her ears and around her back and down her spine. This action made her shoulders hunch up as she tried to force her chin between those shoulders. Shannon was squealing once again and her staccato laughter sputtered out like machine gun fire.
Suddenly, someone lunged at her armpits and the fury of the tickling sent a strong signal to Shannon’s brain. She screamed bloody murder and her arms pulled free. But the tickling didn’t stop. He continued to let his fingers move in the limited space under her tightly closed arms. This intense tickling caused Shannon to fall over and off the stump and into the dried leaves behind her. Her legs were kicked up into the air until she felt them grabbed by someone. The underarm tickler fell onto his face and his fingers came loose from their tickle targets.
Just as Shannon was about to thank the Heavens for release, she felt a renewed tickling on her feet. She thrashed about this way and that and tried to reach up and detach the fingers that were torturing her sensitive soles but the tickling was so intense that she did not have the strength. Instead she fell back again into the leaves and thrashed about.
But as she thrashed her hand fell upon something hard in the leaves. It was her pepper spray. She inserted her finger into the trigger and raised her arm up and sprayed for her life.
Confusion and screaming ensued. The spray had also lifted the flames of the fire and she saw bodies scrambling this way and that, releasing her ankles and running for dear life.
The men scattered into the woods screaming in pain; blurred shadows clutching their faces. One man ran right into a tree and fell to the ground, moaning.
Shannon scrambled for her flip-flops. The now, enlarged flame illuminated the area. Not only could she see her bag and shoes, she saw the faces of her attackers.
"I have memorized every one of your faces and I am going to report all of you!" She barked at them.
Shannon grabbed a handful of leaves and threw it into the flame. The fire rose very high and spit sparks into the tree branches. But it was enough to see the path in the woods that she came in from.
The teenager ran into the path and disappeared into the night.
End of Part 1
