Ticklishboy30
TMF Regular
- Joined
- Jun 22, 2010
- Messages
- 217
- Points
- 18
(This is a collaborative effort with Jojkk. One of the main characters is his Mr. Smiles from his "Superhero Tickles" comic posted on deviantart.com. If anyone is interested here's a link to the first page of the comic.https://www.deviantart.com/jojkk/art/Superhero-tickles-Mr-Smiles-1138556723 )
The sun was rising in the sky over Joy City. The pastel colors of pink, orange, and blue blended together, treating the early-rising and late-to-bed inhabitants to a brilliant art show to please their optical senses. One such early riser was the adorable journalist Charles Peterson, who was secretly Mr. Smiles, one of the city's most beloved and well-known superheroes. The Adonis' emerald green eyes sparkled because he was looking forward to an arranged, playful day with a fellow hero and one of his best friends with benefits, Kid Bondage, whose alter ego was Phoenix Ash, a popular gay model and porn star.
Charles yawned and softly groaned while his naked, muscle-toned body stretched for the first time after eight hours of rejuvenating slumber. He turned onto his side, used magic to create a couple of hands holding a jar, placed his cockhead halfway between the rim and bottom, and sighed in sheer pleasure as the pressure from the stored-up piss was relieved as the deep yellow liquid filled the container. When he finished, the hands and container disappeared.
Morning wood was next on his to-do list. A handful of shimmering baby blue feathers and a large, disembodied hand were conjured. Their sole purpose was tickling and giving a handjob. He relaxed with his hands behind his head, posed spread eagle on the queen-sized mattress, exposing his very ticklish, slightly tanned muscled flesh, and flexed his lollipop toes, which caused the wrinkles on his smooth, creamy, meaty soles.
Boyish giggles and soft squeals instantly filled the expansive master suite mere seconds after the feathers lightly stroked the surface of his entire body, including his balls. While the feathers tickled, the hand caressed and massaged the leaky rock-hard steel rod-like shaft as moans of pleasure mixed and mingled with the giggles and Charles' milky white plump, firm ass bounced up and down and wriggled side to side on the satiny sage-colored bedsheets.
Two feathers, one for each foot, slipped between every toe and teased the bases, which caused the light, airy giggles to increase, morphing into high-pitched squeals as the phalanges twitched, flexed, and curled. Charles' back arched, and his midsection slightly bowed, displaying his prominent bobbing Adam's apple, the rippling ab muscles that glistened with sweat, and the rim of his recessed belly button.
Labored breaths were drawn in and pumped back out by the rise and fall of his firm, sweat-streaked bare chest with its pink, puffy, erect nipples. White cream leaked out from the purple head, coating the veined, painfully stiff, and slightly curved shaft. Finally, cum shot into the air with the force of a volcanic eruption, splattering the headboard, walls, and the body from which it was created.
Charles was about to make the hand and feathers disappear. However, the desire to be tickled was overwhelming and overrode the part of his brain that knew how sensitive he was after the orgasm and kept hollering, "Danger! Danger! Charles Peterson." Then, without any thought, a second hand was created. Two seconds after the next wave of feathery-light tickles drowned his sense of touch, boisterous, screeching, high-pitched laughter spewed from his mouth as he was hurled into a bottomless chasm of intense tickling due to the heightened ticklishness.
Almost three minutes later, he cried, "Ok! You can stop now." However, the tickling kept on because he was too distracted by the increasing intensity of the tickles to free himself from the imprisonment of his ticklishness. The feathers worked their way up and down his helpless limbs, much like the mops in Disney's "The Sorcerer's Apprentice." Swirling in his belly button, stroking his inner thighs, traveling along his damp ass crack, and wreaking havoc on his ultra-ticklish nipples.
"C'mon Not the nipples, belly button, and butt. It's soooo ticklish."
The hysterically laughing conjuror forgot about the two hands until they joined the ticklish fun when five nimble fingers tickled both of his hairless, wet pit hollows.
"Oh, no! Please, don't add the pits."
In a way, the magic obeyed because the blue translucent body parts moved from the armpits to kneading its creator's sides and hips, which sent Charles' laughter into the stratosphere.
"Oh, man, not there. It tickles so much."
Sweat streamed like rain from the blonde locks, trickling down the forehead and the helpless magic maker's face, blending with his tears and spit. No matter how Charles tried, he couldn't stop the creations to give himself a much-needed break. Adding to his dilemma, his arms and legs would not obey the mental command to move and try to block the out-of-control magic.
When the hands finished tickling their maker's hips, the next target was the vulnerable, meaty feet. Five fingernails slowly but lightly dragged up and down his vulnerable left sole, and the other hand's fingertips danced on and strummed the right foot's sole with a touch that was almost lighter than the feathers.
"Not what I meant. Geez! Not the nails on my feet."
All the ticklish variations sent Charles' senses into an uncontrollable tailspin. Spit and tears slung left and right as the young hero struggled to endure the seemingly endless tickles.
"I'm not sure how much more I can take."
It took another five, almost ten more minutes before the cackling, sweat-soaked man managed to get rid of the devious feathers and the mischievous hands. His energy was depleted, and his body and mattress were drenched with saliva, sweat, and tears. Charles lay in the puddle of sweat, his tongue hanging out of the left side of his mouth, panting heavily and waiting for enough strength to be replenished so he could move.
*****
Phoenix was giggly and giddy when he locked the door of his country home. The backpack slung over his right shoulder containing his eye mask, vest, lasso, and holstered guns bounced up and down as his size twelve black motorcycle boot-clad feet skipped along the pink and white pebble walkway leading from the recently acquired two-story dark brown and white log cabin with its stone chimney to his carport.
The six-foot-two, hundred-and-eighty-five pound, clean-shaven redhead was dressed in a pink tank top that clung to his upper body like it was part of his skin, a pair of blue jeans that were so tight, they left nothing to the imagination. Under his arm was a green and black helmet that matched his Ninja, and a sleek black helmet was in his hand.
A bright, boyish smile lit up the motorcyclist's youthful, chiseled face, and his sapphire-blue eyes sparkled with playfulness as he double-checked the backpack because one never knew when Kid Bondage might be needed.
Once satisfied that he'd remembered everything, the redhead slipped his arms through the straps. He straddled his black and neon green striped Ninja motorcycle, donned his helmet, placed the extra one in the holder, brought the machine to life, and sped down the gravel drive toward the main road heading into the city, where he was meeting his playmate at his apartment building so they could go to breakfast before spending the day together.
*****
Charles took one last look at himself in the mirror and smiled at his reflection. He loved the way his light purple sleeveless shirt showed off the chiseled set of eight-pack abs, how the light blue jeans accentuated his bubble butt's muscular ass cheeks, his light tan slip-on casual shoes pulled the outfit together, and they made his feet look more slender than they really were. The blonde picked up his backpack, containing his Mr. Smiles suit and extra clothing in case their visit was extended into the weekend, then locked the door and headed downstairs in the elevator.
Man, it's beautiful this morning, he thought while sitting on a bench just to the right of the apartment building's entrance. The thoughts and enjoyment of the peaceful morning were interrupted when a dark red light beam surrounded his body.
"What the..."
A slender man wearing all black and a crimson hooded cloak that concealed his face emerged from the shadows. In the six-foot-three, hundred-and-ninety-five pound assailant's left hand was a long golden staff with a dark red jewel at the crown that emitted the energy field, keeping his chosen victim hostage.
"Who are you, and what do you want from me?"
"I am Crimson Warlock, and you're my ticket to getting the pretty boy, Mr. Smiles, here to face me."
The cloaked man lowered the hood to reveal a pale-skinned face with high, defined cheekbones, and the mustache and goatee were nicely trimmed. His jaw was strong and chiseled, and his nose was perfectly proportioned to his features.
At first glance, Charles' manhood decided to proudly display itself.
"Ahh, I see part of you decided to like what you see," the warlock said.
The low, rumbling chuckle and dark, brooding features were a definite turn-on for the captured journalist, and that, combined with the comment, made the green-eyed blonde's cheeks bright pink. It threw him for a loop when Crimson Warlock reached out and gently massaged the defined outline of his very generous endowment. An unexpected moan of pleasure escaped his plump, juicy lips before he closed his eyes and tried to will his dick to soften.
"You know, baby boy, this doesn't have to be unenjoyable for either of us." The warlock smiled when the younger male shivered and giggled lightly because of the breathy, seductive whisper.
Charles nervously chuckled while regaining his composure. He cleared his throat and asked, "What makes you think Mr. Smiles knows me?"
When the warlock's eyes glowed red as the hood was pulled back up on his head, it sent shivers up and down Charles' spine.
"You, mister sexy reporter, are the only journalist who speaks directly to Little Boy Blondie. Don't try me, kiddo. I have my ways of getting what I want."
Charles started to make a snappy comeback, but before a syllable was uttered, the jewel and the villain's eyes glowed brightly, and he yelped when his body was catapulted into the sky. It happened so fast, like a pebble shot from a slingshot. In the blink of an eye, he was hovering above his building's rooftop, and his emerald eyes bulged as he quickly realized his dilemma. If he were captured as Mr. Smiles, he'd easily break free or at least try to, but at the moment, that wasn't an option because Crimson Warlock trapped a journalist with no special powers, and the risk of people finding out that Peterson and Smiles were the same person was too high.
The staff glowed, and the captor floated into the air so that he was at eye level with his grunting and struggling hostage.
"I'll never confirm or deny your claim. I've got my integrity to maintain."
Sneering, the red-cloaked levatator returned to the ground, where he cut the staff's magic and giggled when the helpless man screamed while falling. Just before the body hit the sidewalk, he stopped the descent and kept Charles hovering in the air level with his waist. Next, the villain created two shadow coils to restrain his captive's wrists and ankles.
Every defined muscle quivered and slightly bulged as he pulled and struggled against the smoky restraints. The coils were not breaking, which surprised the city's hero because even if he used his super strength, the magic was possibly strong enough to keep him trapped, at least for a little bit.
"Struggle all you want, my adorable pet. My jewel's keeping you levitated, and its shadow coils will keep you weakened just enough so that you won't escape."
"You sure are cocky for a guy using magic on someone without powers. I hope you don't come to regret your actions."
"I think you'll be the one with the regret, my pretty blonde pup. I've researched you and discovered you're a very ticklish little boy."
"If tickles are what you want, release me from your magic, baby boy. I'm always up for the challenge of a fun tickle fight, and I love sharing a few laughs with a hot guy. Also, not to brag, but I'm an awesome tickler," Charles said, with his signature boyish smile on display.
"Oh, don't worry, young stallion. I'll have you so tickled pink and wildly laughing you'll beg to contact Mr. Smiles. See, while the jewel in my staff has its own powers, my natural gift can manipulate the intensity of a human's physical sense. I can touch any body part and cause extreme pain, pleasure, horniness, and of course, ticklishness."
C'mon, KB. Where are you? Charles thought while trying to break free of the coils.
The sun was rising in the sky over Joy City. The pastel colors of pink, orange, and blue blended together, treating the early-rising and late-to-bed inhabitants to a brilliant art show to please their optical senses. One such early riser was the adorable journalist Charles Peterson, who was secretly Mr. Smiles, one of the city's most beloved and well-known superheroes. The Adonis' emerald green eyes sparkled because he was looking forward to an arranged, playful day with a fellow hero and one of his best friends with benefits, Kid Bondage, whose alter ego was Phoenix Ash, a popular gay model and porn star.
Charles yawned and softly groaned while his naked, muscle-toned body stretched for the first time after eight hours of rejuvenating slumber. He turned onto his side, used magic to create a couple of hands holding a jar, placed his cockhead halfway between the rim and bottom, and sighed in sheer pleasure as the pressure from the stored-up piss was relieved as the deep yellow liquid filled the container. When he finished, the hands and container disappeared.
Morning wood was next on his to-do list. A handful of shimmering baby blue feathers and a large, disembodied hand were conjured. Their sole purpose was tickling and giving a handjob. He relaxed with his hands behind his head, posed spread eagle on the queen-sized mattress, exposing his very ticklish, slightly tanned muscled flesh, and flexed his lollipop toes, which caused the wrinkles on his smooth, creamy, meaty soles.
Boyish giggles and soft squeals instantly filled the expansive master suite mere seconds after the feathers lightly stroked the surface of his entire body, including his balls. While the feathers tickled, the hand caressed and massaged the leaky rock-hard steel rod-like shaft as moans of pleasure mixed and mingled with the giggles and Charles' milky white plump, firm ass bounced up and down and wriggled side to side on the satiny sage-colored bedsheets.
Two feathers, one for each foot, slipped between every toe and teased the bases, which caused the light, airy giggles to increase, morphing into high-pitched squeals as the phalanges twitched, flexed, and curled. Charles' back arched, and his midsection slightly bowed, displaying his prominent bobbing Adam's apple, the rippling ab muscles that glistened with sweat, and the rim of his recessed belly button.
Labored breaths were drawn in and pumped back out by the rise and fall of his firm, sweat-streaked bare chest with its pink, puffy, erect nipples. White cream leaked out from the purple head, coating the veined, painfully stiff, and slightly curved shaft. Finally, cum shot into the air with the force of a volcanic eruption, splattering the headboard, walls, and the body from which it was created.
Charles was about to make the hand and feathers disappear. However, the desire to be tickled was overwhelming and overrode the part of his brain that knew how sensitive he was after the orgasm and kept hollering, "Danger! Danger! Charles Peterson." Then, without any thought, a second hand was created. Two seconds after the next wave of feathery-light tickles drowned his sense of touch, boisterous, screeching, high-pitched laughter spewed from his mouth as he was hurled into a bottomless chasm of intense tickling due to the heightened ticklishness.
Almost three minutes later, he cried, "Ok! You can stop now." However, the tickling kept on because he was too distracted by the increasing intensity of the tickles to free himself from the imprisonment of his ticklishness. The feathers worked their way up and down his helpless limbs, much like the mops in Disney's "The Sorcerer's Apprentice." Swirling in his belly button, stroking his inner thighs, traveling along his damp ass crack, and wreaking havoc on his ultra-ticklish nipples.
"C'mon Not the nipples, belly button, and butt. It's soooo ticklish."
The hysterically laughing conjuror forgot about the two hands until they joined the ticklish fun when five nimble fingers tickled both of his hairless, wet pit hollows.
"Oh, no! Please, don't add the pits."
In a way, the magic obeyed because the blue translucent body parts moved from the armpits to kneading its creator's sides and hips, which sent Charles' laughter into the stratosphere.
"Oh, man, not there. It tickles so much."
Sweat streamed like rain from the blonde locks, trickling down the forehead and the helpless magic maker's face, blending with his tears and spit. No matter how Charles tried, he couldn't stop the creations to give himself a much-needed break. Adding to his dilemma, his arms and legs would not obey the mental command to move and try to block the out-of-control magic.
When the hands finished tickling their maker's hips, the next target was the vulnerable, meaty feet. Five fingernails slowly but lightly dragged up and down his vulnerable left sole, and the other hand's fingertips danced on and strummed the right foot's sole with a touch that was almost lighter than the feathers.
"Not what I meant. Geez! Not the nails on my feet."
All the ticklish variations sent Charles' senses into an uncontrollable tailspin. Spit and tears slung left and right as the young hero struggled to endure the seemingly endless tickles.
"I'm not sure how much more I can take."
It took another five, almost ten more minutes before the cackling, sweat-soaked man managed to get rid of the devious feathers and the mischievous hands. His energy was depleted, and his body and mattress were drenched with saliva, sweat, and tears. Charles lay in the puddle of sweat, his tongue hanging out of the left side of his mouth, panting heavily and waiting for enough strength to be replenished so he could move.
*****
Phoenix was giggly and giddy when he locked the door of his country home. The backpack slung over his right shoulder containing his eye mask, vest, lasso, and holstered guns bounced up and down as his size twelve black motorcycle boot-clad feet skipped along the pink and white pebble walkway leading from the recently acquired two-story dark brown and white log cabin with its stone chimney to his carport.
The six-foot-two, hundred-and-eighty-five pound, clean-shaven redhead was dressed in a pink tank top that clung to his upper body like it was part of his skin, a pair of blue jeans that were so tight, they left nothing to the imagination. Under his arm was a green and black helmet that matched his Ninja, and a sleek black helmet was in his hand.
A bright, boyish smile lit up the motorcyclist's youthful, chiseled face, and his sapphire-blue eyes sparkled with playfulness as he double-checked the backpack because one never knew when Kid Bondage might be needed.
Once satisfied that he'd remembered everything, the redhead slipped his arms through the straps. He straddled his black and neon green striped Ninja motorcycle, donned his helmet, placed the extra one in the holder, brought the machine to life, and sped down the gravel drive toward the main road heading into the city, where he was meeting his playmate at his apartment building so they could go to breakfast before spending the day together.
*****
Charles took one last look at himself in the mirror and smiled at his reflection. He loved the way his light purple sleeveless shirt showed off the chiseled set of eight-pack abs, how the light blue jeans accentuated his bubble butt's muscular ass cheeks, his light tan slip-on casual shoes pulled the outfit together, and they made his feet look more slender than they really were. The blonde picked up his backpack, containing his Mr. Smiles suit and extra clothing in case their visit was extended into the weekend, then locked the door and headed downstairs in the elevator.
Man, it's beautiful this morning, he thought while sitting on a bench just to the right of the apartment building's entrance. The thoughts and enjoyment of the peaceful morning were interrupted when a dark red light beam surrounded his body.
"What the..."
A slender man wearing all black and a crimson hooded cloak that concealed his face emerged from the shadows. In the six-foot-three, hundred-and-ninety-five pound assailant's left hand was a long golden staff with a dark red jewel at the crown that emitted the energy field, keeping his chosen victim hostage.
"Who are you, and what do you want from me?"
"I am Crimson Warlock, and you're my ticket to getting the pretty boy, Mr. Smiles, here to face me."
The cloaked man lowered the hood to reveal a pale-skinned face with high, defined cheekbones, and the mustache and goatee were nicely trimmed. His jaw was strong and chiseled, and his nose was perfectly proportioned to his features.
At first glance, Charles' manhood decided to proudly display itself.
"Ahh, I see part of you decided to like what you see," the warlock said.
The low, rumbling chuckle and dark, brooding features were a definite turn-on for the captured journalist, and that, combined with the comment, made the green-eyed blonde's cheeks bright pink. It threw him for a loop when Crimson Warlock reached out and gently massaged the defined outline of his very generous endowment. An unexpected moan of pleasure escaped his plump, juicy lips before he closed his eyes and tried to will his dick to soften.
"You know, baby boy, this doesn't have to be unenjoyable for either of us." The warlock smiled when the younger male shivered and giggled lightly because of the breathy, seductive whisper.
Charles nervously chuckled while regaining his composure. He cleared his throat and asked, "What makes you think Mr. Smiles knows me?"
When the warlock's eyes glowed red as the hood was pulled back up on his head, it sent shivers up and down Charles' spine.
"You, mister sexy reporter, are the only journalist who speaks directly to Little Boy Blondie. Don't try me, kiddo. I have my ways of getting what I want."
Charles started to make a snappy comeback, but before a syllable was uttered, the jewel and the villain's eyes glowed brightly, and he yelped when his body was catapulted into the sky. It happened so fast, like a pebble shot from a slingshot. In the blink of an eye, he was hovering above his building's rooftop, and his emerald eyes bulged as he quickly realized his dilemma. If he were captured as Mr. Smiles, he'd easily break free or at least try to, but at the moment, that wasn't an option because Crimson Warlock trapped a journalist with no special powers, and the risk of people finding out that Peterson and Smiles were the same person was too high.
The staff glowed, and the captor floated into the air so that he was at eye level with his grunting and struggling hostage.
"I'll never confirm or deny your claim. I've got my integrity to maintain."
Sneering, the red-cloaked levatator returned to the ground, where he cut the staff's magic and giggled when the helpless man screamed while falling. Just before the body hit the sidewalk, he stopped the descent and kept Charles hovering in the air level with his waist. Next, the villain created two shadow coils to restrain his captive's wrists and ankles.
Every defined muscle quivered and slightly bulged as he pulled and struggled against the smoky restraints. The coils were not breaking, which surprised the city's hero because even if he used his super strength, the magic was possibly strong enough to keep him trapped, at least for a little bit.
"Struggle all you want, my adorable pet. My jewel's keeping you levitated, and its shadow coils will keep you weakened just enough so that you won't escape."
"You sure are cocky for a guy using magic on someone without powers. I hope you don't come to regret your actions."
"I think you'll be the one with the regret, my pretty blonde pup. I've researched you and discovered you're a very ticklish little boy."
"If tickles are what you want, release me from your magic, baby boy. I'm always up for the challenge of a fun tickle fight, and I love sharing a few laughs with a hot guy. Also, not to brag, but I'm an awesome tickler," Charles said, with his signature boyish smile on display.
"Oh, don't worry, young stallion. I'll have you so tickled pink and wildly laughing you'll beg to contact Mr. Smiles. See, while the jewel in my staff has its own powers, my natural gift can manipulate the intensity of a human's physical sense. I can touch any body part and cause extreme pain, pleasure, horniness, and of course, ticklishness."
C'mon, KB. Where are you? Charles thought while trying to break free of the coils.
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