Sablesword
TMF Master
- Joined
- Jun 13, 2001
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This is part 2 (and last). Part 1 is at http://www.tickletheater.com/showthread.php?t=20875
The story is based on a couple of pieces of really excellent artwork by Scavenger01, at http://www.tickletheater.com/showthread.php?t=20772
A Secret Military Experiment (conclusion)
For Sergeant Kathy Smith, it was just as bad as the day before. The tickling was driving her crazy! More crazy. She had to be crazy to blindly volunteer for this frigging experiment, and doubly crazy to step forward again once she knew what it was about.
She bucked and squirmed, howling with laughter as the tentacles gently stroked the sensitive places between her toes. Another set paused just long enough to let the tickle-sensation sink in before drawing a circle on her belly, spiraling slowly closer to her navel. Then the first set temporarily left her toes (except for the one that held her large toes together), and wiggled over the rest of her feet. It paid special attention to a certain strip along the edges of her insteps, and she twisted and lunged.
Uselessly, of course. The ribbon tendrils wrapping her, and the restraint-straps and tee-pod adhesive holding her in place, were far too effective. Escape was impossible, but Kathy could not keep herself from struggling, any more than she could keep the laughter from pouring out.
Dr. Emily Harkess found herself unexpectedly in hog-heaven. Yesterday's tickle-session had been pure, exhausting torture. A soft and gentle torture, but still torture. This time, however, the same tickling touch seemed to send shocks of exquisite pleasure racing through her entire nervous system.
It was still exhausting, though, as the tee-pod's tentacles sped to a wiggling crescendo across the soles of her helpless feet and the small vulnerably exposed area of her stomach. She giggled and laughed just as loudly as the day before, and squirmed just as hard against the restraints that held her helpless.
The tickle-tempo slowed, and Emily gasped for breath as tears and sweat dripped from her face. The tee-pod didn't stop completely, however. Its tentacles continued a lazy caress as the pair that gripped Emily's toes stiffened, gently stretching them to a position of complete vulnerability. It was wonderfully seductive, the softly teasing touch of the tee-pod. But Emily could hear the screams and laughter of the other tickle-victims, and she knew it could not last. Hoped that it wouldn't last.
And it didn't last. The tee-pod launched a sudden assault, a vigorous wave of tickling that swept back and forth across Emily's feet and around and in her navel. Her laughter was just as loud as any of the other volunteer-victims at the wild bliss of the intense tickling.
It was the third day of tickling, and Space-Tech Connie Kolasa tried to go with the flow. She was on her fourth or fifth tee-pod of the day - she had lost count - but still she squirmed and wiggled almost as vigorously as when the tickling had started. It was an endurance trial, she told herself, and then she squeaked and stiffened as a tentacle reached into her belly-button. That tickling continued for several eternal seconds, and when it ended Connie twisted and tried to shield her feet, knowing what the tee-pod's next move would be.
But the tee-pod anticipated Connie's maneuver. Two tentacles pulled her feet slightly apart, and additional tentacles raked her soles. The foot tickling slowed, and the tee-pod teased the edges of her exposed belly with light, rapid strokes. Tears came out of her eyes once again as she squirmed and laughed.
And now the tee-pod began a slow tickle cover both feet and stomach. Slow at the beginning that is, for Connie could feel the tempo increase. She fought down a stab of panic; she had to go with the flow, go with the flow, just go with the flow - she lost it as the tickling came too fast for her to stand, and she babbled incoherently between the giggles.
It was the twelfth day, and Private Ilene Li tried to hide just how much she was enjoying the tickling. The first two days had been agonizing, and she had nearly wimped out. Only stubborn pride and an intense desire not to show weakness in front of the navy pukes had allowed her to step forward and pick up the tee-pod back on day three.
Some time during that third day, however, the tone of the tickling had begun to change. It wasn't any less intense. It still couldn't be fought as it inexorably forced squirming and giggling from her. It still made her cry and sweat from her laughter and her struggles. But it was no longer agonizing.
Or at least it mostly wasn't agonizing - there were still moments when Ilene screamed and jerked and babbled for mercy. Such as when a tee-pod once again imposed a certain soft but insistent tickle along a certain sensitive stretch of her insteps. Or when it applied an especially vigorous tickle simultaneously to both feet and the exposed patch of her belly. Most of the time, though, Ilene squirmed and laughed and bucked, and suppressed her pangs of disappointment when particular intensely-pleasurable bits of tickling ended.
If Ilene had been less distracted by her own struggles, she might have noticed signs of the same thing happening to the other volunteer-victims. The ten women lay on their restraint-couches in the prison bay, wrapped in the tee-pods' ribbon tendrils just as they had on the first day. They were just as thoroughly helpless and vulnerable, with only their heads and bare feet exposed, along with a patch of skin around each navel.
Their giggles and howls of laughter were just as loud, and their squirming and struggling just as vigorous and just as useless. Their eyes still bulged or screwed shut as tee-pod tentacles applied different sorts of tickling to feet and belly, toes and heels, insteps and the balls of the feet. The sweat and tears of laughter was just as copious as the tickling went on for hour after hour, broken only when a tee-pod became satiated and the manipulators lifted the woman away for a brief respite before she had a fresh tee-pod inflicted on her.
But there were also differences from the beginning of the experiment. There was less swearing, and fewer incoherent cries and pleas for mercy mixed in with the screams and giggles. The tone of those screams had changed as well, being richer in knowing apprehension and poorer in the panic of ignorance. And the struggles, while just as futile, and if anything more vigorous than ever, lacked the edge of fear that they possessed during the first tickle-sessions.
There were other, more subtle differences as well, differences duly recorded by the cameras at the foot of each restraint couch and by the other sensors that webbed the chamber.
"I have here the final results from Phase I of the experiment," Dr. Yuan said to the small audience in the briefing room. "Dr. Harkess should be presenting them herself, since the project was her brainchild, but even though she'd been released from the squidcat prison transport, she's still being reclused from these meetings." He shot a dirty look at the admiral.
"I'm sure she'll want to volunteer for Phase II," the admiral said blandly.
"As may be," Yuan answered, and then went on. "Here we see the primary measures of haremization." An animated slide appeared before the audience, busy with graphs. "As you can tell, the measures for assertiveness, self-reliance, willpower, and so on are within normal parameters for all ten volunteer subjects. However." Here the slide changed to a montage of ten pairs of wiggling soles, all being teased by tentacles. "The secondary indicators show what would be advanced haremization if these were recovered prisoners." Color codes appeared over the soles, marking their sensitivity and reactions.
According to the legend at the bottom right of the slide, greater sensitivity was indicated by greater color-saturation, while type of sensitivity was indicated by hue: Blue for agony, and red for pleasurable sensation. In the animation, blue areas on the soles faded and were replaced by growing red patches. The first pair of soles went a deep red almost immediately as the animation fast-forwarded through the three-week experiment, while the other nine sets of feet reddened more slowly. After 15 days, all the soles showed mostly red, with occasional pink areas and flashes of purple and blue.
"The view of the science team is that this represents an immunization against the squidcat's haremization effect. We believe it is due to the presence of Dr. Harkess among the volunteers, and that her own rapid reaction produced a 'psionic feedback' effect." Yuan reran the animation, this time focusing on the first pair of soles in the set of ten, soles that had dark pigment around the edges and that quickly developed a dark red in their color overlay.
"The military evaluation, on the other hand," Yuan went on, "is that the primary indicators of normality are deceptive, and that we are seeing authentic haremization." Here the slide changed to show ten nude women, stepping unhesitatingly forward to pick up the tee-pods lying on the deck before them. "And with that I will turn over to Colonel Snodgrass."
The officer in charge of training stood up. "Thank you, Dr. Yuan. As you can see," he reran the last slide's animation again, this time extending it to show the beginning of the tee-pod's tickling, "the consensus among navy and marine officers is that our ten volunteers are showing true haremization, despite having their primary indicators in the normal range. In my own case, I'll admit to bias: A captivity-resistance program would be a godsend to morale, even if it were of only limited effectiveness. And since I want it so badly, I'm skeptical about it actually happening here.
"As a result of the various disagreements between the science team and the military side, we have developed two options. The first is to continue with Phase 2, recruiting 50 additional volunteers - including ten male subjects - and using the current ten subjects as cadre to produce the 'psionic feedback' that Dr. Yuan mentioned. In addition, we would run tests to challenge the supposed immunization of our current subjects to squidcat haremization.
"The second option - Plan B - is to simply continue the study with only the current set of ten volunteers."
"Thank you, Colonel Snodgrass, Dr. Yuan," the Admiral said. "The floor is now open to discussion."
After half an hour of heated debate, the decision was made. Fifty more volunteers would be recruited. Phase 2 would commence.
Tickle Bay One of the squidcat prison transport once again rang with giggles and shrieks of laughter as twenty-five women squirmed helplessly, encased in the mummy-like wrappings of the tee-pods. Tickle Bay Two likewise was filled with women lying in restraint couches and undergoing tickling at the tentacles of the tee-pods. Twenty of the women in each bay pleaded incoherently as the laughter was forced from them, for this was their first encounter with the squidcat's tickle-organisms, and they had not known what to expect when they had walked nude into the airlock.
Five of the women in each group, however, did not babble, even though they squirmed and jerked just as helplessly as the tee-pods tickled their vulnerable feet and stomachs. They had been here before, and knew exactly how useless their pleas and struggles would be. They had known exactly what they were walking into, and yet they had stepped forward anyway.
Back in the orbiting station, Colonel Snodgrass skimmed over the initial reports on Phase 2, and began to sketch out plans for Phase 3. The tickling would continue until morale improved.
-- End
The story is based on a couple of pieces of really excellent artwork by Scavenger01, at http://www.tickletheater.com/showthread.php?t=20772
A Secret Military Experiment (conclusion)
For Sergeant Kathy Smith, it was just as bad as the day before. The tickling was driving her crazy! More crazy. She had to be crazy to blindly volunteer for this frigging experiment, and doubly crazy to step forward again once she knew what it was about.
She bucked and squirmed, howling with laughter as the tentacles gently stroked the sensitive places between her toes. Another set paused just long enough to let the tickle-sensation sink in before drawing a circle on her belly, spiraling slowly closer to her navel. Then the first set temporarily left her toes (except for the one that held her large toes together), and wiggled over the rest of her feet. It paid special attention to a certain strip along the edges of her insteps, and she twisted and lunged.
Uselessly, of course. The ribbon tendrils wrapping her, and the restraint-straps and tee-pod adhesive holding her in place, were far too effective. Escape was impossible, but Kathy could not keep herself from struggling, any more than she could keep the laughter from pouring out.
#
Dr. Emily Harkess found herself unexpectedly in hog-heaven. Yesterday's tickle-session had been pure, exhausting torture. A soft and gentle torture, but still torture. This time, however, the same tickling touch seemed to send shocks of exquisite pleasure racing through her entire nervous system.
It was still exhausting, though, as the tee-pod's tentacles sped to a wiggling crescendo across the soles of her helpless feet and the small vulnerably exposed area of her stomach. She giggled and laughed just as loudly as the day before, and squirmed just as hard against the restraints that held her helpless.
The tickle-tempo slowed, and Emily gasped for breath as tears and sweat dripped from her face. The tee-pod didn't stop completely, however. Its tentacles continued a lazy caress as the pair that gripped Emily's toes stiffened, gently stretching them to a position of complete vulnerability. It was wonderfully seductive, the softly teasing touch of the tee-pod. But Emily could hear the screams and laughter of the other tickle-victims, and she knew it could not last. Hoped that it wouldn't last.
And it didn't last. The tee-pod launched a sudden assault, a vigorous wave of tickling that swept back and forth across Emily's feet and around and in her navel. Her laughter was just as loud as any of the other volunteer-victims at the wild bliss of the intense tickling.
#
It was the third day of tickling, and Space-Tech Connie Kolasa tried to go with the flow. She was on her fourth or fifth tee-pod of the day - she had lost count - but still she squirmed and wiggled almost as vigorously as when the tickling had started. It was an endurance trial, she told herself, and then she squeaked and stiffened as a tentacle reached into her belly-button. That tickling continued for several eternal seconds, and when it ended Connie twisted and tried to shield her feet, knowing what the tee-pod's next move would be.
But the tee-pod anticipated Connie's maneuver. Two tentacles pulled her feet slightly apart, and additional tentacles raked her soles. The foot tickling slowed, and the tee-pod teased the edges of her exposed belly with light, rapid strokes. Tears came out of her eyes once again as she squirmed and laughed.
And now the tee-pod began a slow tickle cover both feet and stomach. Slow at the beginning that is, for Connie could feel the tempo increase. She fought down a stab of panic; she had to go with the flow, go with the flow, just go with the flow - she lost it as the tickling came too fast for her to stand, and she babbled incoherently between the giggles.
#
It was the twelfth day, and Private Ilene Li tried to hide just how much she was enjoying the tickling. The first two days had been agonizing, and she had nearly wimped out. Only stubborn pride and an intense desire not to show weakness in front of the navy pukes had allowed her to step forward and pick up the tee-pod back on day three.
Some time during that third day, however, the tone of the tickling had begun to change. It wasn't any less intense. It still couldn't be fought as it inexorably forced squirming and giggling from her. It still made her cry and sweat from her laughter and her struggles. But it was no longer agonizing.
Or at least it mostly wasn't agonizing - there were still moments when Ilene screamed and jerked and babbled for mercy. Such as when a tee-pod once again imposed a certain soft but insistent tickle along a certain sensitive stretch of her insteps. Or when it applied an especially vigorous tickle simultaneously to both feet and the exposed patch of her belly. Most of the time, though, Ilene squirmed and laughed and bucked, and suppressed her pangs of disappointment when particular intensely-pleasurable bits of tickling ended.
If Ilene had been less distracted by her own struggles, she might have noticed signs of the same thing happening to the other volunteer-victims. The ten women lay on their restraint-couches in the prison bay, wrapped in the tee-pods' ribbon tendrils just as they had on the first day. They were just as thoroughly helpless and vulnerable, with only their heads and bare feet exposed, along with a patch of skin around each navel.
Their giggles and howls of laughter were just as loud, and their squirming and struggling just as vigorous and just as useless. Their eyes still bulged or screwed shut as tee-pod tentacles applied different sorts of tickling to feet and belly, toes and heels, insteps and the balls of the feet. The sweat and tears of laughter was just as copious as the tickling went on for hour after hour, broken only when a tee-pod became satiated and the manipulators lifted the woman away for a brief respite before she had a fresh tee-pod inflicted on her.
But there were also differences from the beginning of the experiment. There was less swearing, and fewer incoherent cries and pleas for mercy mixed in with the screams and giggles. The tone of those screams had changed as well, being richer in knowing apprehension and poorer in the panic of ignorance. And the struggles, while just as futile, and if anything more vigorous than ever, lacked the edge of fear that they possessed during the first tickle-sessions.
There were other, more subtle differences as well, differences duly recorded by the cameras at the foot of each restraint couch and by the other sensors that webbed the chamber.
#
"I have here the final results from Phase I of the experiment," Dr. Yuan said to the small audience in the briefing room. "Dr. Harkess should be presenting them herself, since the project was her brainchild, but even though she'd been released from the squidcat prison transport, she's still being reclused from these meetings." He shot a dirty look at the admiral.
"I'm sure she'll want to volunteer for Phase II," the admiral said blandly.
"As may be," Yuan answered, and then went on. "Here we see the primary measures of haremization." An animated slide appeared before the audience, busy with graphs. "As you can tell, the measures for assertiveness, self-reliance, willpower, and so on are within normal parameters for all ten volunteer subjects. However." Here the slide changed to a montage of ten pairs of wiggling soles, all being teased by tentacles. "The secondary indicators show what would be advanced haremization if these were recovered prisoners." Color codes appeared over the soles, marking their sensitivity and reactions.
According to the legend at the bottom right of the slide, greater sensitivity was indicated by greater color-saturation, while type of sensitivity was indicated by hue: Blue for agony, and red for pleasurable sensation. In the animation, blue areas on the soles faded and were replaced by growing red patches. The first pair of soles went a deep red almost immediately as the animation fast-forwarded through the three-week experiment, while the other nine sets of feet reddened more slowly. After 15 days, all the soles showed mostly red, with occasional pink areas and flashes of purple and blue.
"The view of the science team is that this represents an immunization against the squidcat's haremization effect. We believe it is due to the presence of Dr. Harkess among the volunteers, and that her own rapid reaction produced a 'psionic feedback' effect." Yuan reran the animation, this time focusing on the first pair of soles in the set of ten, soles that had dark pigment around the edges and that quickly developed a dark red in their color overlay.
"The military evaluation, on the other hand," Yuan went on, "is that the primary indicators of normality are deceptive, and that we are seeing authentic haremization." Here the slide changed to show ten nude women, stepping unhesitatingly forward to pick up the tee-pods lying on the deck before them. "And with that I will turn over to Colonel Snodgrass."
The officer in charge of training stood up. "Thank you, Dr. Yuan. As you can see," he reran the last slide's animation again, this time extending it to show the beginning of the tee-pod's tickling, "the consensus among navy and marine officers is that our ten volunteers are showing true haremization, despite having their primary indicators in the normal range. In my own case, I'll admit to bias: A captivity-resistance program would be a godsend to morale, even if it were of only limited effectiveness. And since I want it so badly, I'm skeptical about it actually happening here.
"As a result of the various disagreements between the science team and the military side, we have developed two options. The first is to continue with Phase 2, recruiting 50 additional volunteers - including ten male subjects - and using the current ten subjects as cadre to produce the 'psionic feedback' that Dr. Yuan mentioned. In addition, we would run tests to challenge the supposed immunization of our current subjects to squidcat haremization.
"The second option - Plan B - is to simply continue the study with only the current set of ten volunteers."
"Thank you, Colonel Snodgrass, Dr. Yuan," the Admiral said. "The floor is now open to discussion."
After half an hour of heated debate, the decision was made. Fifty more volunteers would be recruited. Phase 2 would commence.
#
Tickle Bay One of the squidcat prison transport once again rang with giggles and shrieks of laughter as twenty-five women squirmed helplessly, encased in the mummy-like wrappings of the tee-pods. Tickle Bay Two likewise was filled with women lying in restraint couches and undergoing tickling at the tentacles of the tee-pods. Twenty of the women in each bay pleaded incoherently as the laughter was forced from them, for this was their first encounter with the squidcat's tickle-organisms, and they had not known what to expect when they had walked nude into the airlock.
Five of the women in each group, however, did not babble, even though they squirmed and jerked just as helplessly as the tee-pods tickled their vulnerable feet and stomachs. They had been here before, and knew exactly how useless their pleas and struggles would be. They had known exactly what they were walking into, and yet they had stepped forward anyway.
Back in the orbiting station, Colonel Snodgrass skimmed over the initial reports on Phase 2, and began to sketch out plans for Phase 3. The tickling would continue until morale improved.
-- End
