allsmiles1701
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Summary: (Star Trek Fandom)
The one, where every male crew member of the Enterprise is subjected to extreme tickle torture.
Fulfilling an anonymous request for pure, unadulterated, extreme, vicious tickle torture on the Enterprise.
This is a shameless, non-con tickle fic with no fluff and little plot.
If you’re not into non-con tickle torture, this is not for you.
You have been warned.
************************************************
Uhura woke up to the sounds of noisy hilarity, surrounded by a cacophony of hysterical giggling, cackling, howling, and shrieking, intermingled with desperate begging and pleas for mercy. Sounds so out of place on the bridge of the Enterprise that even the communication officer’s trained ear couldn’t make sense of it. Not in her dazed state anyway.
Gingerly touching a hand to her throbbing head, Uhura tried to shake the dizziness and get her eyes to focus on her surroundings. She was sitting in her usual place in front of her console, but why she should have been asleep right here on bridge duty, she had no idea. Something, or someone must have knocked her out. As the fog around her brain slowly dissolved, and all of her senses kicked back in, she finally started to wonder why everyone else on the bridge was screaming laughter.
Slowly swivelling around in her chair to check with Captain Kirk, she felt her blood run cold at the scene before her. Her first instinct was to race over and rescue the captain, but her Starfleet training prevented her from rushing in without a plan. So she quickly let her gaze sweep around the bridge to gather more information and get a clear picture of what was going on.
Apparently, the bridge had been invaded by a number of exceptionally tall, incredibly beautiful women with seemingly identical, expressionless faces, who looked decidedly human apart from having four pairs of arms instead of only one, sprouting from their sides all the way down to their hips.
One of these women was standing behind the command chair, holding a dishevelled Kirk’s arms high above his head in an iron grip with her top two hands, while her remaining three sets of hands were torturing the captain in a way that chilled Uhura to the bone, as soon as she realised the full extent of his ordeal.
The captain’s shirt had been rolled up to his chest, exposing his belly and sides for thirty perfectly manicured fingers to wreak ticklish havoc on his bare skin. One set of hands was delicately running up and down his sides, making the poor man jerk from side to side in distress, while another set was lightly scribbling all over his stomach and belly, making him buck uncontrollably.
The fourth pair of hands had obviously found a special sweet spot on both sides of Kirk’s lower belly, seemingly inflicting the most diabolical torture on the captain’s sensitive abdomen despite their fingers hardly moving at all, yet eliciting the most frenzied response by relentlessly drawing slow and deliberate circles around these exact spots.
Kirk’s whole body was convulsed with helpless mirth, at least as much as his restrained position allowed, his legs kicking the air frantically, while the woman’s vice-like grip on his wrists held him firmly in place with no choice but to suffer the harrowing touches. Uhura shuddered, remembering that she’d once overheard Dr. McCoy teasing the captain about his ‘tummy being too damn ticklish for a simple physical exam’, and couldn’t even begin to comprehend what the man must be going through.
Looking at the state of him, Uhura didn’t even dare to think about how long this horrible torture must have been going on already. Kirk’s face was scrunched up in agony, his eyes squeezed tightly shut with tears streaming out of the corners. His damp hair was matted to his scalp, his shirt drenched in sweat, a sheen of perspiration covering his flushed face and his whole spasming body, as endless peals of laughter were forced from his wide-open mouth by the many hands of the woman currently standing behind him.
Uhura could see that the captain was desperately trying to form words, presumably to beg for mercy, but the relentless assault on his obscenely ticklish midriff rendered him unable to do anything but laugh and fight for breath, his torture so intense that he was reduced to silent laughter most of the time.
Looking past the captain across the bridge, Uhura saw Scotty slumped forward in his chair at the engineering station, pressed face-down against the console by another woman holding his arms firmly crossed behind his neck, his shirt rolled up almost over his head, trapping his elbows.
Unlike Kirk’s, Scotty’s laughter was booming, interrupted by a constant stream of panicked screams like “Mercy!” or “I cannae take it!” or “I beg of ya!” or “Lord help me!”. The chief engineer’s body was shaking with laughter as the fingertips of one pair of hands skittered all over his shoulder blades, reducing him to a cackling mess, while the fingers of another pair were focusing on a few evil spots on his lower back, right above the waist of his uniform trousers, making the muscles there quiver and jolt with every brush of the pointy fingernails.
The last set of hands had found an even more devious way to make the chief engineer squeal, curse, and jerk violently by poking the backs of his underarms in a very specific and apparently lethal spot near the rim.
Tearing her gaze off Scotty’s horrific predicament, Uhura let her eyes travel towards the front of the bridge, where Sulu was practically lying prone across his station, held in place, or rather, by the looks of it, viciously rendered immobile by two vibrating hands in his armpits, ceaselessly drilling his hollows. The helmsman’s shirt had been removed completely, and his uniform pants pulled down to his knees. He was howling with laughter, barely able to grit out a plea to stop now and then, while being reduced to helpless cackling by all the other hands skilfully tormenting him.
One pair was feathering up and down the backs of Sulu’s thighs, a sensation so intense, he could hardly breathe. Another set of hands was viciously assaulting his hips, squeezing the perfect spots to make him buck, and squirm, and visibly want to jump out of his skin. The remaining two hands were clawing at his sides, up to his underarms and down again, making him jolt and throw back his head in ticklish agony every time they touched a certain sweet spot between his two lowest ribs. Uhura nearly lost it just watching, knowing exactly how excruciating those spots were, since they were in the top five of her own worst spots, too.
To Sulu’s right, Chekov was lying on the floor, pinned on his back next to his chair not by one, but two of the devilish women. Uhura gasped at the sight, knowing fully well how unbearably ticklish Chekov was. The boy’s face was a deep crimson as he was screaming and laughing his head off, utterly unable to beg for mercy and probably way beyond any coherent thought.
Being unbearably sensitive from head to toe, with the most adorable giggle to boot, the young Russian had been the target of many a tickle assault by his friends and crew mates in the past. And apparently, he was ticklish enough to warrant even two of these obnoxious women dedicated to torturing his body.
For better access, Chekov had been stripped down to his briefs, and now had to deal with a total of eighty deft fingers on the bare skin all over his body. One of the women had pulled his arms over his head and was pinning them under her legs while tormenting his neck with gentle tickles, causing him to squeal and thrash his head from side to side in a vain attempt to protect the most sensitive areas. Two more hands were busy drilling his exposed armpits, a sure way to drive most anyone insane, and Chekov was definitely no exception.
Another two hands were attacking the young man’s abs, returning again and again to a very specific and highly torturous spot high on either side of the boy’s stomach, making him jerk forcefully and cry out, “Nyet!” with every cruel scratch of the woman’s fingernails there. And the last pair of hands was solely focused on teasing Chekov’s lower belly, which Uhura knew to be another one of the boy’s absolutely deadly areas, exerting the most excruciating torture by trailing their fingers lightly along the elastic of his briefs, fiendishly lingering on a few particularly harrowing spots.
And as if all of that wasn’t devastating enough, a second woman was straddling Chekov’s ankles, thus pinning his legs to the floor with no room to twitch or twist to escape the heinously torturous ministrations of her forty fingers. Uhura could hardly look at another one of her personal death spots being tormented: the crevices where hips meet legs. And the way this woman’s fingers were ruthlessly drilling into these spots was a particularly diabolical method, too.
The remaining six hands were tormenting Chekov’s inner thighs, another horrendously sensitive area, all around the knees, sadistically lingering on those sweet spots at the back, and, of course, the wickedly ticklish bottoms of his feet, Chekov’s otherwise tightly closed eyes flying wide open every time the evil fingers scratched under his toes, giving his contorted face an almost deranged look.
Letting her gaze travel on to the final station on the bridge, right to her other side, Uhura was shell-shocked when her eyes fell on Spock. She’d never have guessed that the Vulcan was ticklish at all, but being half human, he quite obviously was. And at least as horrendously ticklish as any of the others on the bridge were, too.
Unlike the others, however, he was still fully clothed in his uniform, but the woman holding his legs up high in the air by the ankles, as he was lying on the floor in front of the science station, had removed his boots and socks, and was tormenting the soles of his feet with no less than three pairs of hands. Assuming that these women somehow knew everyone’s worst spots, Spock’s were obviously his feet. Who would have guessed?
Uhura knew that she had to do something to save her crew mates from this unbearable torture, and fast, but she almost couldn’t tear her eyes off Spock, mesmerized by the pure, completely un-Vulcan distress on his face, his arms flailing helplessly all around, his hands sometimes tearing at his ears, his mouth twisted and opened wide in a silent scream.
Spock’s torment seemed unendurable, even for the usually stoic Vulcan. His chest was heaving, his breath coming in frenzied spasms, his torso thrashing around frantically, bucking and writhing in agony, yet no sound was coming out of his mouth. No giggling, no cackling, no laughter, just silent suffering.
He couldn’t even plead or beg, and Uhura’s heart went out to him, as he jerked violently with every touch of those diabolical fingers to his toes, every scratch across his arches, every torment of his sensitive heels. Fingers skittering all over the balls of his feet seemed to bother him especially, his hands clenching and unclenching with every stroke.
His insteps were definitely another sweet spot, desperate gasps being forced out of him whenever the devilish fingers lingered there. But worst of all was the area underneath his toes, his fists frantically pounding the floor whenever the fingers scratched along the stems or between the toes.
The answer to the question that had been on Uhura’s mind ever since discovering her crew mates’ unspeakable suffering, wondering why she was being spared from this cruel torture and unable to even imagine such relentless tickling being inflicted anywhere on her body, seemed clear as soon as she realised that she was currently the only woman on the bridge.
Finally springing into action, Uhura raced over to the captain, trying to prise the tormenting hands off him, but she couldn’t move them even an inch, as the woman simply ignored her. Feeling another presence, Kirk briefly opened his tear-filled eyes, looking imploringly at Uhura and grinding out a strained, “Help, please!” from gritted teeth, before falling back into helpless laughter.
Realising that she didn’t have the strength to free the captain from those diabolical fingers, Uhura rounded the command chair and hurled herself against the woman with full force, hoping to throw her off balance at least, but Kirk’s tormentor remained unmoved, not even faltering for a second in her ticklish assault on the captain’s sensitive and exposed abdomen.
In a desperate attempt, Uhura tried tickling the woman’s several underarms, neck, hips and belly, but this creature, whatever she was, didn’t even flinch, her face remaining as emotionless as it had been the whole time. In a way she reminded Uhura of Nomad, the android, who had been standing on the bridge, unmovably, for days, taking the Enterprise to Mudd’s Planet.
When it was clear that she couldn’t save the captain, she moved over to Scotty, trying her luck there, but it soon became obvious that there was nothing she could do to help the delirious engineer, who was still crying out pleas for mercy between his increasingly demented-sounding laughter, escape this tickle hell, either.
With an anguished look at the three other men, still suffering unimaginable torture, their bodies spasming and thrashing from being tickled way beyond their limits, Uhura made for the turbolift, hoping to make it to security and then come back with reinforcement and weapons.
But of course, the doors didn’t open, and she painfully bumped into them. She tried the manual override, but, unsurprisingly, that didn’t work either. Uhura briefly thought about opening the console and trying to shortcut her way into the lift, but finding a way that wouldn’t shortcut the lift as well, would take far too long. Time she clearly didn’t have, if the ever more desperate sounding cackling and shrieks behind her were anything to go by.
Oh how she wished Scotty could help with some of his magic, or Kirk would come up with one of his resourceful escape plans. But the men were completely out of it. Busy just laughing and breathing and generally enduring the unendurable, hopefully hanging on to their sanity long enough for her to get help and end their horrendous ordeal.
No, she was on her own. Stuck on the bridge with probably the most ticklish senior officers in Starfleet, and no idea what this whole tickle attack was about in the first place. Trying to block out the forced hilarity behind her, Uhura sat down at her console and opened a channel to security, hoping they’d soon come storming onto the bridge to end the merciless tickle torture and save her friends from this awful nightmare before they were tickled to insanity.
Continued in:
All-Male Hilarity - Part 2: http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...ll-over-intense-non-con&p=4533580#post4533580
************************************************
Disclaimer:
I own nothing of Star Trek
************************************************
My other stories:
Ticklish!Kirk & Ticklish!McCoy:
Not a Word of This to Anyone! (Or: A Ticklish Spa Day)
Part 1: Pedicure http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...-Ticklish-Spa-Day)-%96-Part-1-Pedicure-(ff-mm)
Part 2: Full Body Massage http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...-Part-2-Massage-(ff-mm)&p=4632192#post4632192
Ticklish!McCoy:
A Ticklish Predicament (f/m) - Chapel's POV http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?317779-A-Ticklish-Predicament-Star-Trek-Fandom-(f-m)
A Ticklish Predicament (f/m) - McCoy's POV http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...redicament-Star-Trek-Fandom-(f-m)-McCoy-s-POV
A Shared Kink (Part 3 of "A Ticklish Predicament" f/m, sexual) - Chapel's POV http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...nt-Star-Trek-Fandom-(f-m)-Chapel-s-POV-sexual
How (Not) To Tickle Your Boyfriend (Part 4 of "A Ticklish Predicament" f/m, sexual) - McCoy's POV http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...cklish-Predicament-quot&p=4549250#post4549250
Ticklish!Spock:
Emotional Release (m/m) http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?318673-Emotional-Release-(m-m)
The one, where every male crew member of the Enterprise is subjected to extreme tickle torture.
Fulfilling an anonymous request for pure, unadulterated, extreme, vicious tickle torture on the Enterprise.
This is a shameless, non-con tickle fic with no fluff and little plot.
If you’re not into non-con tickle torture, this is not for you.
You have been warned.
************************************************
Uhura woke up to the sounds of noisy hilarity, surrounded by a cacophony of hysterical giggling, cackling, howling, and shrieking, intermingled with desperate begging and pleas for mercy. Sounds so out of place on the bridge of the Enterprise that even the communication officer’s trained ear couldn’t make sense of it. Not in her dazed state anyway.
Gingerly touching a hand to her throbbing head, Uhura tried to shake the dizziness and get her eyes to focus on her surroundings. She was sitting in her usual place in front of her console, but why she should have been asleep right here on bridge duty, she had no idea. Something, or someone must have knocked her out. As the fog around her brain slowly dissolved, and all of her senses kicked back in, she finally started to wonder why everyone else on the bridge was screaming laughter.
Slowly swivelling around in her chair to check with Captain Kirk, she felt her blood run cold at the scene before her. Her first instinct was to race over and rescue the captain, but her Starfleet training prevented her from rushing in without a plan. So she quickly let her gaze sweep around the bridge to gather more information and get a clear picture of what was going on.
Apparently, the bridge had been invaded by a number of exceptionally tall, incredibly beautiful women with seemingly identical, expressionless faces, who looked decidedly human apart from having four pairs of arms instead of only one, sprouting from their sides all the way down to their hips.
One of these women was standing behind the command chair, holding a dishevelled Kirk’s arms high above his head in an iron grip with her top two hands, while her remaining three sets of hands were torturing the captain in a way that chilled Uhura to the bone, as soon as she realised the full extent of his ordeal.
The captain’s shirt had been rolled up to his chest, exposing his belly and sides for thirty perfectly manicured fingers to wreak ticklish havoc on his bare skin. One set of hands was delicately running up and down his sides, making the poor man jerk from side to side in distress, while another set was lightly scribbling all over his stomach and belly, making him buck uncontrollably.
The fourth pair of hands had obviously found a special sweet spot on both sides of Kirk’s lower belly, seemingly inflicting the most diabolical torture on the captain’s sensitive abdomen despite their fingers hardly moving at all, yet eliciting the most frenzied response by relentlessly drawing slow and deliberate circles around these exact spots.
Kirk’s whole body was convulsed with helpless mirth, at least as much as his restrained position allowed, his legs kicking the air frantically, while the woman’s vice-like grip on his wrists held him firmly in place with no choice but to suffer the harrowing touches. Uhura shuddered, remembering that she’d once overheard Dr. McCoy teasing the captain about his ‘tummy being too damn ticklish for a simple physical exam’, and couldn’t even begin to comprehend what the man must be going through.
Looking at the state of him, Uhura didn’t even dare to think about how long this horrible torture must have been going on already. Kirk’s face was scrunched up in agony, his eyes squeezed tightly shut with tears streaming out of the corners. His damp hair was matted to his scalp, his shirt drenched in sweat, a sheen of perspiration covering his flushed face and his whole spasming body, as endless peals of laughter were forced from his wide-open mouth by the many hands of the woman currently standing behind him.
Uhura could see that the captain was desperately trying to form words, presumably to beg for mercy, but the relentless assault on his obscenely ticklish midriff rendered him unable to do anything but laugh and fight for breath, his torture so intense that he was reduced to silent laughter most of the time.
Looking past the captain across the bridge, Uhura saw Scotty slumped forward in his chair at the engineering station, pressed face-down against the console by another woman holding his arms firmly crossed behind his neck, his shirt rolled up almost over his head, trapping his elbows.
Unlike Kirk’s, Scotty’s laughter was booming, interrupted by a constant stream of panicked screams like “Mercy!” or “I cannae take it!” or “I beg of ya!” or “Lord help me!”. The chief engineer’s body was shaking with laughter as the fingertips of one pair of hands skittered all over his shoulder blades, reducing him to a cackling mess, while the fingers of another pair were focusing on a few evil spots on his lower back, right above the waist of his uniform trousers, making the muscles there quiver and jolt with every brush of the pointy fingernails.
The last set of hands had found an even more devious way to make the chief engineer squeal, curse, and jerk violently by poking the backs of his underarms in a very specific and apparently lethal spot near the rim.
Tearing her gaze off Scotty’s horrific predicament, Uhura let her eyes travel towards the front of the bridge, where Sulu was practically lying prone across his station, held in place, or rather, by the looks of it, viciously rendered immobile by two vibrating hands in his armpits, ceaselessly drilling his hollows. The helmsman’s shirt had been removed completely, and his uniform pants pulled down to his knees. He was howling with laughter, barely able to grit out a plea to stop now and then, while being reduced to helpless cackling by all the other hands skilfully tormenting him.
One pair was feathering up and down the backs of Sulu’s thighs, a sensation so intense, he could hardly breathe. Another set of hands was viciously assaulting his hips, squeezing the perfect spots to make him buck, and squirm, and visibly want to jump out of his skin. The remaining two hands were clawing at his sides, up to his underarms and down again, making him jolt and throw back his head in ticklish agony every time they touched a certain sweet spot between his two lowest ribs. Uhura nearly lost it just watching, knowing exactly how excruciating those spots were, since they were in the top five of her own worst spots, too.
To Sulu’s right, Chekov was lying on the floor, pinned on his back next to his chair not by one, but two of the devilish women. Uhura gasped at the sight, knowing fully well how unbearably ticklish Chekov was. The boy’s face was a deep crimson as he was screaming and laughing his head off, utterly unable to beg for mercy and probably way beyond any coherent thought.
Being unbearably sensitive from head to toe, with the most adorable giggle to boot, the young Russian had been the target of many a tickle assault by his friends and crew mates in the past. And apparently, he was ticklish enough to warrant even two of these obnoxious women dedicated to torturing his body.
For better access, Chekov had been stripped down to his briefs, and now had to deal with a total of eighty deft fingers on the bare skin all over his body. One of the women had pulled his arms over his head and was pinning them under her legs while tormenting his neck with gentle tickles, causing him to squeal and thrash his head from side to side in a vain attempt to protect the most sensitive areas. Two more hands were busy drilling his exposed armpits, a sure way to drive most anyone insane, and Chekov was definitely no exception.
Another two hands were attacking the young man’s abs, returning again and again to a very specific and highly torturous spot high on either side of the boy’s stomach, making him jerk forcefully and cry out, “Nyet!” with every cruel scratch of the woman’s fingernails there. And the last pair of hands was solely focused on teasing Chekov’s lower belly, which Uhura knew to be another one of the boy’s absolutely deadly areas, exerting the most excruciating torture by trailing their fingers lightly along the elastic of his briefs, fiendishly lingering on a few particularly harrowing spots.
And as if all of that wasn’t devastating enough, a second woman was straddling Chekov’s ankles, thus pinning his legs to the floor with no room to twitch or twist to escape the heinously torturous ministrations of her forty fingers. Uhura could hardly look at another one of her personal death spots being tormented: the crevices where hips meet legs. And the way this woman’s fingers were ruthlessly drilling into these spots was a particularly diabolical method, too.
The remaining six hands were tormenting Chekov’s inner thighs, another horrendously sensitive area, all around the knees, sadistically lingering on those sweet spots at the back, and, of course, the wickedly ticklish bottoms of his feet, Chekov’s otherwise tightly closed eyes flying wide open every time the evil fingers scratched under his toes, giving his contorted face an almost deranged look.
Letting her gaze travel on to the final station on the bridge, right to her other side, Uhura was shell-shocked when her eyes fell on Spock. She’d never have guessed that the Vulcan was ticklish at all, but being half human, he quite obviously was. And at least as horrendously ticklish as any of the others on the bridge were, too.
Unlike the others, however, he was still fully clothed in his uniform, but the woman holding his legs up high in the air by the ankles, as he was lying on the floor in front of the science station, had removed his boots and socks, and was tormenting the soles of his feet with no less than three pairs of hands. Assuming that these women somehow knew everyone’s worst spots, Spock’s were obviously his feet. Who would have guessed?
Uhura knew that she had to do something to save her crew mates from this unbearable torture, and fast, but she almost couldn’t tear her eyes off Spock, mesmerized by the pure, completely un-Vulcan distress on his face, his arms flailing helplessly all around, his hands sometimes tearing at his ears, his mouth twisted and opened wide in a silent scream.
Spock’s torment seemed unendurable, even for the usually stoic Vulcan. His chest was heaving, his breath coming in frenzied spasms, his torso thrashing around frantically, bucking and writhing in agony, yet no sound was coming out of his mouth. No giggling, no cackling, no laughter, just silent suffering.
He couldn’t even plead or beg, and Uhura’s heart went out to him, as he jerked violently with every touch of those diabolical fingers to his toes, every scratch across his arches, every torment of his sensitive heels. Fingers skittering all over the balls of his feet seemed to bother him especially, his hands clenching and unclenching with every stroke.
His insteps were definitely another sweet spot, desperate gasps being forced out of him whenever the devilish fingers lingered there. But worst of all was the area underneath his toes, his fists frantically pounding the floor whenever the fingers scratched along the stems or between the toes.
The answer to the question that had been on Uhura’s mind ever since discovering her crew mates’ unspeakable suffering, wondering why she was being spared from this cruel torture and unable to even imagine such relentless tickling being inflicted anywhere on her body, seemed clear as soon as she realised that she was currently the only woman on the bridge.
Finally springing into action, Uhura raced over to the captain, trying to prise the tormenting hands off him, but she couldn’t move them even an inch, as the woman simply ignored her. Feeling another presence, Kirk briefly opened his tear-filled eyes, looking imploringly at Uhura and grinding out a strained, “Help, please!” from gritted teeth, before falling back into helpless laughter.
Realising that she didn’t have the strength to free the captain from those diabolical fingers, Uhura rounded the command chair and hurled herself against the woman with full force, hoping to throw her off balance at least, but Kirk’s tormentor remained unmoved, not even faltering for a second in her ticklish assault on the captain’s sensitive and exposed abdomen.
In a desperate attempt, Uhura tried tickling the woman’s several underarms, neck, hips and belly, but this creature, whatever she was, didn’t even flinch, her face remaining as emotionless as it had been the whole time. In a way she reminded Uhura of Nomad, the android, who had been standing on the bridge, unmovably, for days, taking the Enterprise to Mudd’s Planet.
When it was clear that she couldn’t save the captain, she moved over to Scotty, trying her luck there, but it soon became obvious that there was nothing she could do to help the delirious engineer, who was still crying out pleas for mercy between his increasingly demented-sounding laughter, escape this tickle hell, either.
With an anguished look at the three other men, still suffering unimaginable torture, their bodies spasming and thrashing from being tickled way beyond their limits, Uhura made for the turbolift, hoping to make it to security and then come back with reinforcement and weapons.
But of course, the doors didn’t open, and she painfully bumped into them. She tried the manual override, but, unsurprisingly, that didn’t work either. Uhura briefly thought about opening the console and trying to shortcut her way into the lift, but finding a way that wouldn’t shortcut the lift as well, would take far too long. Time she clearly didn’t have, if the ever more desperate sounding cackling and shrieks behind her were anything to go by.
Oh how she wished Scotty could help with some of his magic, or Kirk would come up with one of his resourceful escape plans. But the men were completely out of it. Busy just laughing and breathing and generally enduring the unendurable, hopefully hanging on to their sanity long enough for her to get help and end their horrendous ordeal.
No, she was on her own. Stuck on the bridge with probably the most ticklish senior officers in Starfleet, and no idea what this whole tickle attack was about in the first place. Trying to block out the forced hilarity behind her, Uhura sat down at her console and opened a channel to security, hoping they’d soon come storming onto the bridge to end the merciless tickle torture and save her friends from this awful nightmare before they were tickled to insanity.
Continued in:
All-Male Hilarity - Part 2: http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...ll-over-intense-non-con&p=4533580#post4533580
************************************************
Disclaimer:
I own nothing of Star Trek
************************************************
My other stories:
Ticklish!Kirk & Ticklish!McCoy:
Not a Word of This to Anyone! (Or: A Ticklish Spa Day)
Part 1: Pedicure http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...-Ticklish-Spa-Day)-%96-Part-1-Pedicure-(ff-mm)
Part 2: Full Body Massage http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...-Part-2-Massage-(ff-mm)&p=4632192#post4632192
Ticklish!McCoy:
A Ticklish Predicament (f/m) - Chapel's POV http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?317779-A-Ticklish-Predicament-Star-Trek-Fandom-(f-m)
A Ticklish Predicament (f/m) - McCoy's POV http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...redicament-Star-Trek-Fandom-(f-m)-McCoy-s-POV
A Shared Kink (Part 3 of "A Ticklish Predicament" f/m, sexual) - Chapel's POV http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...nt-Star-Trek-Fandom-(f-m)-Chapel-s-POV-sexual
How (Not) To Tickle Your Boyfriend (Part 4 of "A Ticklish Predicament" f/m, sexual) - McCoy's POV http://www.ticklingforum.com/showth...cklish-Predicament-quot&p=4549250#post4549250
Ticklish!Spock:
Emotional Release (m/m) http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?318673-Emotional-Release-(m-m)
Last edited:
