Maiden Voyage (f/f, ff/f, etc) (10 chapters, 19,000+ words)

[Underscore Eleven]

Chapter 1: Cassie

Cassie sprinted through the corridor, heart thumping and her mind in a whirl. She was unsure where she was anymore; had even less idea where she was going. Her only concern had been to get away. She had no plan, no destination – she had simply started running.

It would have made sense, she realized now, to make for the safety of her living quarters. Instead, she found herself down in the bowels of the ship, racing past server rooms and maintenance closets. She reached an intersection and slowed her pace, listening carefully for the sounds of pursuit. All was silence, save for the soft familiar thrum of the sublight engines far below her. At last she had a little breathing space, a little time to think.

A sign on the wall informed her that she was on E Deck West, and underneath the sign was a schematic of the ship's layout. She didn't need to study it closely; all she needed was the 'You Are Here' dot. She could visualize the rest. If she was on E Deck, she had little chance of making it back through the upper floors to her own room. She'd have to find another hiding place.

A little way down the corridor, an empty vending machine lay on its side, awaiting maintenance. Cassie sat down on it to catch her breath, stirring up a thin layer of dust that had collected on the aluminium surface. Probably no-one had been down here since the ship left Earth. She shook her chestnut-brown hair out of her eyes and leant back on her hands, gratefully stretching out her weary muscles. The steady vibration of the engines, amplified by the machine's metallic chassis, rippled through her body in a way she rather liked. Maybe she could simply wait right here till it was all over...

Then a new sound caught her ear. Footsteps. Someone running. Acting on pure instinct, Cassie swung her legs around and wedged herself into the gap between the vending machine and the wall. Not a moment too soon.

Three women rounded the corner at full pelt, pushing and shoving each other as they ran, each of them fighting to gain the lead in an undignified scramble. Cassie recognized the Navigation Officer in her standard-issue jumpsuit – the other two, more scantily dressed, were evidently passengers. Cassie caught only a glimpse of them as they darted past her hiding place.

Then, hot on their heels, came the Trixies.

There were five of them – luckily, too intent on outrunning their quarry to notice the cowering brunette. Cassie curled herself up tighter, willing herself to be invisible. If just one Trixie caught sight of her... The thought of it sent shivers down her spine – but at the same time, she felt her nipples hardening in anticipation. Much as she hated to admit it, something in her couldn't quite deny the strange allure of these...

Creatures? Aliens? Neither word seemed right. They looked like any group of young women one might encounter on a night out – casually dressed, spirited and frisky, their laughing faces shining with the thrill of the chase. Yet they claimed to have no form at all, claimed to be pure energy – which surely must be true, or they never could have got inside the ship. Nonetheless, to all appearances they seemed human enough – except that their eyes were green and catlike, and their hair, though they wore it in different styles, was invariably pink.

Their fingernails too, Cassie noticed for the first time, were neon pink – and sharp.

They were covering the distance fast – and seconds later, Cassie heard a trio of squeals, which segued into a chorus of helpless, screaming laughter. Easing herself up on her haunches, Cassie risked a glance over the side of the machine. The runners had been wrestled to the floor; the Trixies were on top of them, pinning them down, wriggling their nails into every spot on the squirming girls' bodies they could reach. They kept up a stream of delighted chatter as they worked: "This one's super ticklish." – "So's this one." – "Someone get that foot." – "Listen to the sound she makes when I do this."

Cassie ducked back down again. This was bad. Eventually they'd get bored and start looking for more victims – and then they'd be certain to find her. She had to make her escape now, while they were distracted.

She quickly unfastened the laces of her boots, trying to ignore the sounds of ticklish pandemonium that filled the air. Her body was bristling with goosebumps; the synthetic fibres of her navy-blue jumpsuit seemed to be plucking at her skin. Not for the first time, she wondered whether it was just her imagination, or whether the Trixies were exerting some kind of psychic influence that made her feel even more sensitive than usual...

Placing her boots carefully on the floor beside her, she measured the distance to the corner of the corridor. It looked about sixteen yards – that was how far she'd have to run without being spotted. She eased herself into a sprinter's starting position, then launched out into the open.

The flexisteel flooring, designed to yield to blunt force rather than resist it, helped to muffle the sound of her footsteps; the sensation was more like running on carpet than on steel. Besides, any noise Cassie made in her escape was well and truly drowned out by the shrieks of the unfortunate captives. She was confident the Trixies wouldn't hear her – but if any of them happened to look in her direction...

She was barely halfway to the corner when the dreaded words rang out: "Hey, we've got a runner!"

Cassie glanced back over her shoulder, and saw two Trixies peel away from the melee to give chase. Putting on a burst of speed she didn't know she had in her, Cassie powered round the corner, rebounding off the walls, only to meet with another infinite expanse of corridor. This was no good. She couldn't outrun them on the straight, but her knowledge of the ship's internals might give her an edge. There ought to be a utility staircase somewhere up ahead – There! She ducked through an unobtrusive door and clattered down the steps.

She realized too late that she should have gone up, not down. There was nothing below E Deck but the cargo hold, and that was a dead end – unless the freight elevator was still working. A slim chance, but her only hope. She couldn't turn back now. She heard the Trixies on the flight above her, saw their legs through the metal slats. "You can't escape from us," they called. "We're gonna getcha!"

Their teasing, sing-song voices set Cassie's body trembling with excitement. Her mind flashed back to long summer days on Earth, running from her boyfriend on sandy beaches – running, and hoping to be caught.

And to think, it couldn't have been more than an hour ago that she'd been standing on the bridge as usual, bored out of her mind, wishing something interesting would happen...

CONTINUED BELOW

 

[Underscore Eleven]

Chapter 2: One Hour Earlier...

"Status report," the Captain commanded, lounging in her seat with her head on one hand. She called for status reports more or less at random. It helped to break up the monotony.

There was a litany of bored female voices as the ranking officers sounded off in clockwise fashion. "Comms online." – "Life support systems operational." – "Hull integrity secure." – "Laser cannon charged and ready." The Weapons Officer sounded particularly glum. They had never had a chance to use the laser cannon, and likely never would.

"Ship maintaining course," said the Navigation Officer. "Some kind of gas cloud up ahead."

"Dangerous?" asked the Captain, almost hopefully.

"Doesn't seem to be, and anyway our course won't take us through it."

"Right." She realized the round-up had ended one voice short, and turned her head to the left. "Cassie? Status?"

"Really wishing I could sit down," Cassie said.

"Request denied." The Captain turned round in her seat to get a better look at her First Officer. "And stand up straight. Stop slouching."

Cassie rolled her eyes and stood to attention. It grated on her that she was the only member of the crew who didn't get a chair. The First Officer's place was by the Captain's side – she had to be ready to leap into action at a moment's notice. Or so the Captain said. But since Cassie happened to be the Captain's little sister, she more than suspected this was just a way of messing with her.

The bridge settled back into a dull silence, broken only by the tapping of the lower-rank technicians at their control boards. This had been their routine for the past eight months, and they still had three years left to go.

The SS Evensong was on its first and final voyage. It was a one-way trip for everyone on board, passengers and crew alike – all of them had left their homes behind for the opportunity of founding a brand-new colony on an virgin planet, helping to increase the human race's reach across the stars.

The SS Adamant, following a little way behind, carried the colony's male contingent. The segregation of the sexes had been necessary in order to prevent any sudden population increases during the journey – long experience had proven that the only reliable method of enforcing abstinence on long space flights was to keep men and women separated by two hundred thousand miles of vacuum. It certainly was an effective method, but the total lack of male company aboard the Evensong was contributing in no small part to its gloomy atmosphere.

Cassie stifled a yawn and arced her back a little, trying not to let her imagination wander. Her boyfriend, Matty, was a passenger aboard the Adamant – but now wasn't the time to start thinking about how they'd reconnect when they finally arrived at their destination, all the things they'd do together to make up for lost time...

Her skin began to tingle, and she quickly recited the Fibonacci sequence in her head to cool herself off. Thanks to her tight-fitting jumpsuit, it was embarrassingly obvious to everyone when her mind wasn't on the job. A broad strap across the chest, fastening over the left shoulder, was supposed to provide some degree of padding, but the fabric wasn't quite thick enough for purpose. Even with no men aboard, the uniform made Cassie extremely self-conscious. All the crew were wearing the same outfit, of course, but no-one else was quite as much 'on show' as she was.

The Navigation Officer spoke up again. "That gas cloud – it's changing direction. It's coming straight towards us."

That got everyone's attention. Nothing changed direction in space.

"Analysis?" said the Captain.

"Hard to say. It's not even gas, it's some kind of... I don't know. The computer has no reference point. It's... Wow, it's moving fast. It's on top of us, it's surrounding the ship."

"Hull breach!" someone called out, as warning lights began to flash.

"Radiation shields!" cried the Captain.

"Too late," said a soft voice.

Everybody gaped. No-one could tell where they had come from – they seemed to have appeared out of nowhere. A group of seven or eight strange women – young, attractive women – all with pink hair and glittering emerald-green eyes. They stood in the centre of the bridge, gazing confidently around them at the dumbfounded crew.

The Captain pressed a button in the arm of her chair. "Security to bridge!" There was no response, except for a peculiar cackling sound through the intercom, almost like the sound of muffled laughter.

"Our sisters have already disabled your security team," one of the strangers said calmly. "And we're in the process of capturing your engine room."

"Why?" the Captain demanded. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"Humans we've encountered in the past have called us Trixies. We like that name. As for what we want..." The speaker paused and smiled. "Ah, we have the engine room. Good. We'll broadcast this throughout the ship. You all deserve an explanation."

Cassie wondered if this was the kind of situation where she was meant to leap into action. All the ship's systems were routed through the engine room. If they had that, they had... everything. But Cassie didn't have the faintest idea what she ought to do about it.

"We are not organic beings. We exist solely as energy and mind." The Trixie who had spoken seemed to be the leader of the group. She – or it – looked organic enough to Cassie's eyes. The creature had a pretty, slender face, its skin was slightly bronzed, and its pink hair fell in tight ringlets about its shoulders. It was dressed in a black tank top that left a slice of flesh exposed above its navy joggers. "For now, however, we've taken on a form which we believe you will find suitably exciting."

Strange choice of words, Cassie thought. Did it mean to say 'intimidating'? In truth, either word would fit. There was a predatory hunger in the strangers' eyes that gave her goosebumps every time one of them glanced in her direction.

"Like yourselves, we require sustenance to live. Just as you feed on the organic material of lower life-forms, so we feed on the surplus psychic energy of sentient beings. We have a method of extracting that energy which, I assure you, will be absolutely painless – and which," the Trixie added, looking straight at Cassie, "some of you may even find enjoyable."

"What do you intend to do with us?" asked the Captain, fidgeting a little as if she had a premonition of the answer. Cassie, too, was finding her uniform more and more uncomfortable – she had never been so aware of the way the fabric moved against her skin.

"We propose to make a game of it," the Trixie said. "Each side will make concessions. We will allow ourselves to be bound by the spatial limitations of the human form – in other words, we will treat doors and walls as obstacles, and will traverse the ship only on foot. Your concession will be the disabling of all primary control systems."

"We don't agree to that," the Captain said quickly.

"I wasn't asking your permission. These are the rules of the game. Your life support systems and backup generators will remain operational, but all primary controls will be deactivated." Its voice had become a little stern, but now it softened its expression and gave the Captain a sympathetic smile. "I promise you, the game will last only a few hours, and none of you will be any the worse for the experience. Now then, are you ready?"

"But what are you going to do?" Cassie blurted out.

"Oh, didn't I say?" The Trixie grinned mischievously. "We're going to tickle you."

Then the lights went out.

CONTINUED BELOW

 

[Underscore Eleven]

Chapter 3: Jessie

Cassie was the only one standing to attention – she was the first to get away. By the time the emergency generators kicked in, bathing the room in a soft blue glow, the First Officer was nowhere to be seen.

The Captain, Jessie, didn't spare her sister another thought. It was every woman for herself. She had leapt out of her seat during the two seconds of absolute darkness – and now she darted for the anteroom that led into her private quarters, spurred on by the yelps of startled laughter from the less fleet-footed members of the crew. She bent her head to the retina scanner, scrambled through the door as it slid open, then pressed her palm against the panel on the inside wall to lock it down.

As the rush of adrenaline subsided, she wondered whether that had been the most captainly thing to do. She could at least have held the door open a moment, for anyone who might have been behind her. And what if that had been a Trixie?, a little voice inside her added. Jessie shuddered. No, it was better for the crew that she was safe. She could do more good from here.

This room, too, was illuminated only by emergency strip lighting, but the console on her bedside table glowed bright in her hands as she picked it up. It was battery-powered, and fully charged. Team Evensong still had one advantage in this little game. She couldn't use the console to restore the power, but she could access any systems that remained operational, and divert the backup power to where it was most needed.

Right now, her main concern was to assess the state of play. Tapping at the screen with a practiced efficiency, she deactivated the laser cannon – not much use against this kind of enemy – and used the surplus power to switch on the security cameras. Then she pulled up a visual of the bridge.

The first camera she accessed was pointed at the bank of control boards where the technicians did their work. The swivel chairs were all deserted – all but one, where a petite, dark-haired junior technician had been pinned down by two Trixies.

It looked like the poor girl hadn't even managed to get out of her seat. One Trixie sat cross-legged on the floor with an arm wrapped around the victim's ankles, dancing five sharp nails over her soles, while the other stood behind her, digging both hands into her underarms. The girl's eyes were squeezed tight shut, and she was thrashing furiously in a futile effort to escape. She looked like she'd had enough already – but from the expressions on the Trixies' faces, they were just getting warmed up.

Jessie panned round, and found another technician lying on the floor, pulled up into a half-sitting posture by a Trixie who had her pinned in a bear hug. Another Trixie was sitting on her ankles, while a third was slowly working its hands up from her knees towards her hips, provoking increasingly desperate bucking motions from the hapless victim. Jessie couldn't pick up any sound through the console, but even through the door she could hear the screams.

Switching to another camera feed, she was confronted by the laughing visage of the Weapons Officer, her braids flying and her surly demeanor shattered into hysterics. She been hoisted up onto the Captain's chair, and a Trixie knelt on top of her, tickling her ribs with extreme prejudice. That could have been me, Jessie thought to herself.

She couldn't see anyone else on the bridge – but flicking through a few more camera feeds, she found similar scenes playing out in every corridor, rec room, workstation and canteen across the ship. How many Trixies were there? Dozens? Hundreds? They didn't show up on the scanners, but there might be another way of tracking them.

Jessie patched into the medical network and tapped a thumb against the words 'Shipwide Overview'. Everyone on board had a biochip in their left arm that monitored their vital signs and sent real-time data back to the network. The overview gave Jessie a layered map of the entire ship, with every biochip represented by a little dot. A white dot meant the chip's owner was in good health; a red dot meant they were in serious physical distress. Intermediate states were represented by varying shades of pink.

She found herself looking at B Deck, the passengers' main living quarters. Pink dots were strewn throughout the corridors, and more were clustered in the public lounges. She tapped a few at random to bring up a more detailed diagnostic. They all exhibited the same symptoms – accelerated heart-rate, high adrenaline, shortness of breath. It was safe to assume these were the Trixies' victims. The white dots were mostly enclosed in private cabins. Those that weren't, were moving quickly – and as Jessie watched, a few of them came to a sudden stop and immediately took on a pinkish hue.

Flipping through the layers of the map, she found no floor where the white dots were more numerous. The invaders had already infiltrated the entire ship. She noticed, however, that they hadn't entered the infirmary. The doctors and nurses were going about their business unmolested. That was a reassuring sign. And there were no red dots, no health alerts popping up on screen. The Trixies appeared to be keeping their word that they wouldn't harm anyone.

She tapped on a dot that was turning a deeper shade of pink than most, and called up the corresponding camera feed. A young blonde was lying face-down in a corridor with three Trixies on top of her. She'd made an unfortunate choice of outfit – she was dressed in a low-cut blouse with slits along the sides, a miniskirt that barely covered her plump hips, and a pair of nylon stockings. She screamed with laughter and pounded her fists against the floor as six sets of restless fingers vied to find her weakest spot.

Two pink-haired Trixies were sitting on her legs, back-to-back – one of them scrabbled at her nylon-covered soles, while the other had its hands inside her skirt, tweaking relentlessly at her hips and buttocks. The third was kneeling on the floor beside her, gleefully digging into her exposed ribs.

Jessie watched the blonde girl's vitals carefully. Her breath was growing shallower; any moment now, she'd be unconscious. But the Trixies were beginning to ease off, and just before the dot turned red they stopped completely, leaving the victim free to gulp down lungfuls of air. The one that had been torturing her hips ran off in search of other prey, but the other two remained with her. One of them brushed its fingers through her hair, and bent close to her ear as though murmuring comforting words; the other stroked her legs and feet gently with its palms. The biochip dot grew gradually paler, until it was pure white again.

Then the Trixie at her feet made a teasing stroke with its nails, while the other brought a hand down to caress her sides. The girl jumped, and tried to speak – but at that moment, two more passing Trixies joined the fray, and in an instant the blonde was once more being tickled into helplessness.

Jessie switched to another camera feed, and then another – watched more unlucky captives being pushed to the limits of endurance and then brought compassionately back from the brink. So, it was true. The Trixies weren't harming their victims, only playing with them. Knowing that made Jessie feel more relaxed about the situation, and less guilty about hiding in her room. Of course she had a duty to protect the passengers, but the Trixies had already invaded every sector. There really was nothing she could do. And that being the case, she might as well sit back and... enjoy the show.

She brought up a visual of the recreation room on A Deck West, where the biochip scanner told her she'd find a whole gaggle of victims. This was the rec room used by off-duty crewmembers, and Jessie wondered with a wicked thrill whether any of her friends had been caught out.

The camera was pointed at the entertainment center, where an array of screens faced a wide, semi-circular sofa. Three or four technicians were flailing around on the plush carpeting, buried beneath a gang of laughing Trixies, while two more were writhing on the sofa. One of these, thought Jessie, was getting off far too easy – untouched save for a single Trixie holding onto her ankle and tickling the heel of her right foot. Still, she was thrashing for all she was worth, and finally succeeded in pulling her leg free. Caught by surprise at her own success, she rolled off the sofa straight into a Trixie's lap, and soon found herself in dire straits as two arms wrapped around her chest and ten sharp nails dug into her ribs. The other Trixie calmly took hold of her ankle once more and resumed its attack on her bare heel.

Jessie panned the camera round the room. One girl was strapped into a rowing machine, sliding back and forth with a Trixie holding onto her on either side. Their fingers wriggled into her underarms and belly, which her sleeveless crop top left completely at their mercy. Another girl was rolled up in an exercise mat which kept her arms trapped against her sides, giving her tormentors unfettered access to her protruding legs and feet.

Meanwhile, in the far corner, someone else was floundering amidst a sea of beanbags. Jessie switched cameras to get a better view, then gave a gasp of sadistic delight. It was Erin.

Erin was the ranking Comms Officer, and Jessie's best friend aboard the ship. She wasn't shy about talking back to her Captain, and Jessie didn't hesitate to put her in her place, so naturally a strong bond had formed between the two of them over the course of their long voyage. This exchange of banter on the bridge was one of the few things that livened up their weary days, and Jessie bubbled up with glee at the thought of the ammunition this would give her. She hit the record button and zoomed in.

Erin's close-cropped sandy-coloured hair was in a state of extreme disarray. Her charcoal sweatsuit had been pulled up to expose her well-toned belly, and a Trixie with a round face and dimpled cheeks was clutching at her midriff as she bounced up and down on the beanbags. Another Trixie knelt above her, tickling her neck, forcing her to scrunch her head down to her shoulders. But she wasn't pinned, and Jessie couldn't understand why she didn't get up and run away.

Then she rolled over onto to her side, and Jessie saw. Erin's bare feet had been pulled up behind her, and her wrists and ankles had been tied together with some kind of netting. Table-tennis nets, Jessie realized in a flash. They'd hogtied her with table-tennis nets. She couldn't keep from laughing out loud. The Trixies were nothing if not resourceful.

In her effort to escape the tummy tickling, Erin had only presented her tormentor with a still more tempting target. The round-faced Trixie instantly turned its attention to the victim's feet, wriggling its nails into the smooth arches.

Jessie wished she had sound as well as picture. She only saw Erin's mouth open wider, and she gave a lurch, turning completely over onto her front. This made her upturned soles into the perfect surface for an unstoppable tickle attack, and the Trixie didn't waste any time in digging in. Erin's face was angled upwards, her chin against the beanbag, and her expression was frozen in a mask of helpless laughter.

The other Trixie wasn't going to miss out on the fun. It grabbed the hem of her top and pulled it up further, revealing the crease of her spine and her bare ribs. Hardly anyone aboard this all-female ship wore a bra, and Erin was no exception. There was nothing, therefore, to get in the way of the ten teasing fingers that started running up and down her sides.

Erin thrashed wildly, but worse was still to come. Almost accidentally, the Trixie playing with her feet squeezed her big toe between thumb and forefinger, then stopped as if astonished at the sound Erin had made. Experimentally, the Trixie squeezed the big toe of her other foot, then giggled with delight. It had evidently found a major weakness. Tears sprang to Erin's eyes as each one of her toes was pinched in turn, while nails continued raking up and down her ribs.

Reluctantly responding to the nigglings of conscience, Jessie shrunk the video and checked on Erin's vital signs. She was fine. Erin was a tough girl. It would probably take a long while to break her.

Before she could return to the entertainment, a whispered voice issued from the comlink on her wrist. "Jessie!" She recognized her sister's voice, though it was so low as to be barely audible. Jessie clicked a button on the bracelet to activate two-way transmission.

"That's 'Captain' to you," she said. "Where are you?"

"In the cargo hold," came the whispered response. "Where are you? Are you safe? Do you have the console?"

"I'm in my quarters." Leaving Erin to her fate, Jessie pulled up a visual of the cargo hold. The place was a labyrinth of crates and barrels, building materials, bits of machinery, rolls of fabric – anything they thought they might need for the new colony. Three Trixies were picking through the chaos, evidently searching for Cassie. A fourth stood halfway up a metal staircase, watching carefully for any sign of movement.

It took Jessie a few moments to locate her sister. She was crouched among a stack of crates near the freight elevator – well-hidden, but trapped. It would only be a matter of time before they found her.

"I need you," came the soft voice through the comlink, "to divert some backup power to the freight elevator. That's the only way I'm getting out of here."

Jessie sat back comfortably, taking a moment to enjoy Cassie's predicament. The two girls had a close relationship, but the sibling rivalry was strong between them. Growing up, they had competed over everything – grades, boyfriends, their parents' affection. When they both entered the military, their rivalry had been the driving force that spurred them both on to success. When Jessie had been made Captain of the Evensong, she hadn't failed to gloat about it endlessly – but at the same time, she had used all her influence behind the scenes to make sure Cassie got First Officer. Though she'd never admitted it to anyone, she would have declined the commission if her little sister had been left behind.

In truth, she loved Cassie with all her heart – but, well, sometimes love can be cruel.

"So," she said, "you want me to re-route power to the elevator? Could do. I could do that. But you know what I think would be more fun?" With a swipe of her thumb against the console, she amplified the volume of Cassie's comlink, then brought her own bracelet to her lips and called: "She's over here! Come and get her!"

CONTINUED BELOW

 

[Underscore Eleven]

Chapter 4: In the Hold

"Shit!" Cassie slammed a hand down on the comlink, cutting the transmission – but it was too late. Jessie's voice had rung out through the cargo hold, and now four Trixies were zeroing in on her position. Hiding was no use now – she stood up, saw them coming for her on all sides. There was no escape. One of them vaulted over a barrel in its haste, which tipped over, spilling its payload of seeds onto the floor. Then they were on top of her.

The long chase had given their appetites an edge. One of them grabbed her from behind, another from the front, while the other two dropped down and seized her ankles, greedy hands clutching at her sensitive thighs.

"Nahahoho nooohoho!" Cassie twisted like a marionette, still unprepared, despite everything, for the sheer ticklishness of the attack. Her feet left the floor, but she was held up by the Trixie behind her, whose hands were lodged inside her underarms. The one in front of her – a freckled creature in a dark hoodie and jeans, with its pink hair in a ponytail and a sly grin on its face – launched a merciless assault on her ribs and belly. The other two started scratching at the soles of her feet.

"Hahahahaha stahahahahahp!" Cassie kicked desperately and pushed herself backwards, almost bringing the Trixie behind her to the floor. "I can't hold her," the Trixie said, staggering.

The ponytailed Trixie glanced round at the pile of seeds that had avalanched out of the overturned barrel. "Bring her over here." They picked Cassie up by her arms and legs and dumped her onto the bed of kernels.

"Please please please," she begged. "You can't, I'm too... I'm too ticklish!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. You hear that, girls?" Grinning faces surrounded her on every side. "She's just too, too ticklish. Poor little thing. This is going to be torture."

Cassie's wrists and ankles were gripped firmly, and long fingernails began stroking up and down her legs and sides. The first fury of their attack was over – now they were taking it slow. Her skintight jumpsuit, her only armor, which covered her from her neck down to her toes, did little to protect her from the slow strokes, and wouldn't be any help at all once they started digging in. "No sh-hahaha – no stop – hahaha – please!"

"Too tickly for you?" One of her tormentors, a cute little thing with a button nose, positioned itself by Cassie's right foot and ran a nail down her sole. "How about this?"

"Haha nooo!" Even enveloped in the fabric of the jumpsuit, Cassie's feet were too sensitive for words. "Stop that pleeease!"

"Try the other foot." Another Trixie moved into position, and now Cassie's left foot was subjected to the same slow strokes.

"Nohoho it's tohohoo muhuhuch!" She knew her pleas would only egg her captors on, but she couldn't stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth amidst the laughter. She cursed herself for taking off her boots, cursed her stupidity in coming to the cargo hold... but most of all cursed Jessie for giving her away.

"This is too much?" teased the Trixie with the button nose. "We're barely touching you. What if we started doing this?" She lined up four fingers along the arch of Cassie's foot and wriggled them in quick, spidery motions.

"Ahahahastahahp!" Cassie shrieked. Seeds scattered left and right as she buried herself deeper in her makeshift mattress. The other two Trixies continued toying with her upper body; one of them was still stroking her ribs, while the other was poking at her underarm.

"I haven't seen this logo before." The freckled Trixie with the ponytail was peering at the insignia on Cassie's arm. "What does it mean?"

"Wha-haha whahat?" Distracted as she was, some small part of Cassie managed to focus on the question. She had a feeling there'd be consequences if she didn't answer. "It – hahahaha – it meheheheans First - hahaha - First Officeheheherr!"

"Ooh, that sounds important. If we can't get to the Captain, a First Officer is nearly as good. We'll have to take our time with you. Cootchie-cootchie-cootchie!" Letting go of Cassie's wrist, the Trixie started vigorously tickling her sides with both hands.

"Hahahaha waihehehehah- waait!" A way out had suddenly presented itself – but only if she could find the breath to speak. "I can hahahaha – I cahahahaha!" She concentrated all her willpower and burst out in one breath: "I can get you to the Captain!"

That got their attention. They eased off just a little – just enough to let her speak. "You have access to the Captain's private quarters?"

"Yehehess it's – oh stohop! – it's a retina scahahan! I'm the only person who can get you in!"

Cassie breathed a deep sigh of relief as the ticklish sensations died away completely. The Trixies exchanged glances, and the one with the freckled face narrowed its eyes at her suspiciously. "You'd really sell out your own captain?"

Cassie nodded vigorously. "She's my sister."

"Ah, that explains it. Come on then." The Trixies hauled Cassie to her feet. "You're coming with us." The freight elevator whirred into life, and the LED display blinked on. Obviously the Trixie's control over the power grid was absolute. Cassie was frogmarched into the elevator, and the doors clanged shut.

As the lift ascended, the Trixies holding her couldn't refrain from making sly pokes at Cassie's ribs and belly, but that wasn't the only reason she was smiling. The thought of Jessie sitting safe and secure in her luxurious quarters, probably lounging on her double bed, reveling in comfort with no idea of the doom that was in store for her... An errant finger screwed into her ribs, and this time Cassie gave in to the giggles. She could cope with this as long as she knew Jessie was going to get it worse.

Cassie loved her sister, but, well, sometimes love can be cruel.

And no-one could say she didn't have it coming.

CONTINUED BELOW

 

[Underscore Eleven]

Chapter 5: Melissa

Meanwhile, one of the passengers was also in much more trouble than she realized.

Melissa found life aboard the Evensong a mixed blessing. On the one hand, an all-female colony ship was one heck of a place for a lesbian to find herself. No-one had paid their way onto the ship – everyone on board, passengers and crew alike, had been through a rigorous selection process to determine their fitness for the new colony. Of course that included an assessment of their skills and experience, but that was only of secondary importance. Skills could be learned, experience could be acquired. The most important qualifications for the founders of a new world were two things only – health and youth.

The upshot was that all Melissa's fellow travellers had perfect physiques and were in the prime of life. And with no men around, the passengers made no scruple of walking the halls in the scantiest of outfits. It was heaven for a lesbian – and hell. She was constantly aflame with lust, and even though she knew about the secret soirées that took place below decks every seventh night, she refused to let herself indulge in such cheap pleasures. She craved satisfaction from one person only: her cabin-mate, the gorgeous Isabella.

Isabella was the very model of beauty. She had eyes of hazel, delicately arched eyebrows, and a wide mouth with a ready smile. Her jet-black hair framed her face in gentle waves. She was perfectly proportioned for her height, with enticingly full breasts and a slender waist. Melissa had spent an agonizing eight months watching Isabella dressing and undressing, showering and moisturizing, combing her hair and painting her toes... She wasn't the type to tease her friend on purpose, she was simply clueless about Melissa's sexuality.

And now Melissa was afraid that if she found out, she'd request another room and break off from her completely. But on the other hand, she couldn't shake the hope that maybe her attraction was reciprocated. Sometimes she seemed to catch Isabella looking at her in a certain way – or was it only her imagination? She had no idea how to broach the subject. And since every day aboard the ship was just like any other, it didn't seem like anything would ever break her free from this purgatorial condition.

That was how things stood until the day came that wasn't like the others.

Melissa had spent the morning at the pool – not exactly swimming, just observing. As the pool began to empty around lunchtime, however, she had swum a few laps to burn off some excess energy and then set off back towards her room. It wasn't far to go, so she had simply thrown a baggy shirt over her bikini, leaving her legs and feet bare. Towelling at her damp hair as she walked the corridor, she came to a confused halt as the PA system clicked on and a strange voice said: "We are not organic beings. We exist solely as energy and mind."

A group of three women in cocktail dresses and high heels, obviously on their way to a party, had also stopped to listen. "What's this about?" one of them asked. Melissa shrugged. The voice continued – something about feeding off psychic energy, something about a game. They heard the Captain's voice, too, making occasional interjections.

Then another voice – the First Officer. She sounded panicked, frightened. "But what are you going to do?" she asked. The answer made Melissa's blood run cold.

Then the lights went out.

For two seconds, she stood frozen, still holding on to the towel around her neck. She heard screeches in the darkness – and when the emergency lighting flickered on, the scene in front of her had changed dramatically. One of the party girls had been pulled to the ground by a strange woman with pink hair, who was engaged in yanking off her high heels. Another pink-haired apparition had its back against the wall with a struggling captive wrapped in a tight hug. The third girl, seeing the writing on the wall, abandoned her companions and fled. Melissa followed her example.

Her room was just around the corner. She swerved round another shrieking mass of limbs in the next corridor, found her cabin amongst the row of doors, and hit the switch on the wall. All she had to do was get inside and lock it down—

"Wait for me!" That was Isabella, racing through the corridor as if her life depended on it. Melissa held the door open, half inside the room, ready with her hand over the lock panel. The creatures – what did they call themselves? Trixies? – seemed to be multiplying. One of them that hadn't found a victim moved to intercept Isabella. Melissa, throwing caution to the wind, ran forward and shoved it aside. Isabella dashed past and got inside the room – and two hands closed around Melissa's midriff.

"Yee-ahahaha fhuhuckhaha!" Melissa had never imagined she could be so ticklish. The first squeeze sent her off into an instant clamour of hysterics.

"That was very noble of you," a taunting voice said in her ear. "But do you think your friend will return the favour?"

Melissa writhed and stamped, clawing at the hands that were clawing at her belly. She'd been swung around so that her back was to the cabin door – she couldn't see – had Isabella locked herself inside? She wouldn't abandon her roommate like this... would she? "Ihihihi-sabellaaaahahaha!"

Suddenly the towel around her neck was whisked away, the Trixie gave a grunt of astonishment, and the tickling hands released her. "Come on, quick!" Isabella's voice. She had wrapped the towel around the Trixie's head, and as it reached up to free itself she gave it a hard shove in the back. Melissa leapt for the safety of the cabin, with Isabella close behind.

As soon as they were both inside, Melissa pressed her palm against the scanner by the door. The locks clicked into place, ensuring that nothing and no-one could get the door open from the other side. Only then did she relax. Still trembling with her narrow escape, she leaned back against the wall and slumped down into a sitting posture. "Wow. That was... Thanks."

"No problem." Isabella sat down on her bed and heaved a sigh of exhaustion. Then she giggled. "You're really ticklish."

Melissa's face grew hot. It was true she was ticklish, but she'd never known she could be transformed into a laughing wreck quite so easily. She'd always been able to brush off the quick digs she received from friends and lovers, and pretend she hadn't felt them – but now it was hard even to ignore the way her baggy shirt was resting on her naked thighs. "I'm not normally... like this," she said. "I think the adrenaline is heightening my sensitivity."

Isabella raised a finely sculpted eyebrow. "I see. Sure."

Melissa didn't bother arguing the point. An alarming thought was turning itself over in her brain. "They said in that announcement... They said they would treat doors and walls as obstacles, right? That means they don't have to treat doors and walls as obstacles. You don't they'll come in through the walls, do you?" She got up suddenly and backed into the center of the room, trying to look in every direction at once.

"They won't do that," said Isabella, laughing at her friend's anxiety. "It's one of the rules of the game. Trixies always follow the rules."

"You've heard of these things?" said Melissa in surprise.

"Only what I've picked up in old ship's logs. It goes by a few different names, but its modus operandi is always the same. It likes playing games and tickling."

"What do you mean, 'it'?"

"As far as I can gather," said Isabella, "the creatures out there are all manifestations of a single entity. Kind of like personified fragments of the psyche of an individual mind. They can take any form they choose, and each one has a semi-autonomous existence, but they really all share the same identity."

Melissa sat down on her bunk and gazed at Isabella in amazement. She thought she knew her roommate pretty well, but she never knew she spent her time studying old ships' logs. Why on earth had she been researching a subject like this? "So what is this entity, then?" she asked. "Where does it come from?"

"No-one really knows, but I have a theory. Have you ever heard of the Miasmus?"

Everyone had heard of the Miasmus. The story was embedded in the mythology of all the most ancient races in the galaxy. It sounded like the work of a morbid imagination, but the legend had sprung up independently across more than a dozen worlds – always with a host of embellishments, but the broad strokes were always the same.

The story told of a great black cloud – the Miasmus – that would descend upon a planet, bringing untold destruction to everything within its compass. An army of demons lurked within the cloud; armed with whips and red-hot irons, they inflicted unspeakable tortures on every living being that came within their reach. The cloud would move slowly across all the population centers of the planet, then depart as abruptly as it came, leaving the shattered civilization to rebuild itself as best it could.

"You don't think..." said Melissa brokenly. "The Miasmus... But that was nothing like this! The Miasmus was pure evil! And anyway, those stories are thousands of thousands of years old. Whatever that thing was, it must have died a long time ago."

"The Miasmus wasn't evil," said Isabella. "No more than you'd call a tiger evil, or a Venus fly-trap. It just followed its natural instincts, that's all; it wasn't capable of conscious thought. As for being dead, I don't think an entity like that could die. But what if it evolved?"

"Evolved?"

"What if it spent long aeons in hibernation, out in the space between the galaxies? And what if, while it slept, its mind was growing ever more complex, so that it woke to find itself endowed with all the bewildering phenomena of sentience?"

Was it just Melissa's imagination, or were Isabella's eyes turning a shade of emerald green?

"For the first time, it understood empathy, compassion, and remorse. It grieved for all the pain it had caused, and vowed never again to harm another living thing. But it still had to feed, still needed that precious psychic essence to survive. So it found a means of stirring up chaos and confusion through game-playing rather than through tyranny; and it learnt how to induce a state of panic in its victims without causing any lasting trauma. Most organic beings are sensitive to touch – humans even more than most. And a certain type of touching brings out all kinds of delicious psychic energy."

The room reverberated suddenly with a metallic clamor. Someone was banging on the door with all their might. "Melissa! Let me in!"

It was Isabella's voice.

Melissa's throat dried up as her gaze turned back towards the Isabella-thing sitting on the bed. It grinned a toothy grin and stood up slowly. "I did say we could take any form."

"Melissa, please!" the voice called from outside. "They're coming– nahanoo!" There was a thump of a soft body falling to the floor, followed by a peal of melodious laughter.

"Sounds like your friend's in trouble," said the Trixie in Isabella's shape. "And so are you."

All of a sudden, the creature dissolved into a whirling tornado of little white feathers. The feathers swooped up to the ceiling, then poured as if through a funnel towards Melissa, who sat spellbound, unable to process what was happening. The feathers curled once around her shoulders and then cascaded into her waiting lap.

"Nohahahaha nohohohoho hahahahaha!" Melissa threw herself full-length on the bed, her bare legs cycling furiously as the feathers wove in spirals round her thighs. Though each of them touched her only lightly, the combined effect of that multitude of feathers against her naked skin was the most tormentuously ticklish sensation she had ever known. Instant tears sprang to her eyes as she pounded at the mattress in sweet agony.

The feathers worked their way down to her ankles and back up again, then wrapped themselves around her upper body. For a moment she thought she'd been granted a reprieve, her loose white T-shirt protecting her from the soft strokes – but it only took a second for the roving feathers to break through this flimsy defence. Some of them swept in underneath the hem, rolling over her hips and buttocks, while others poured in through the gaps in her short sleeves and still more found an entrance through her collar. In a trice, the entire cloud of feathers was inside her shirt, making the folds billow as they whisked in circles over her tight body.

"Nohohoho pleeease!" Melissa couldn't stand it. There was nothing she could do to stem the flow. If she tried to press her arms against her sides, the smallest of the feathers would dip into her belly button, causing her to screech and double up into a ball. Then, while she was clutching at her belly, feathers would surge into her underarms – and if she plunged her own hands into her underarms, the feathers would no longer be there, but would be fluttering against her ribs. Convulsing on the mattress like a thing possessed, Melissa was grateful only that her string bikini kept her nipples covered – though the nylon clung so tightly to her breasts that each feathery touch still sent shockwaves of pleasure through her writhing frame.

Now a detachment of feathers migrated south, not stopping this time at her ankles but encompassing each foot in a tiny ticklish maelstrom. She bent her legs instinctively, pressing her feet up against her thighs, but the feathers were following her every movement, and now some of them split off to worm into the crotch of her bikini bottoms. More were still working at her upper body, ducking in and out of the baggy shirt that had ridden up halfway to her chest.

"St-st-stahahahahahahpp!" Nothing in Melissa's experience of life had prepared her for this. She had never been tickled for more than a few seconds at a time – never so thoroughly, never so expertly. And she'd never known that it could feel so good. The feathertips stroking at her crotch reacted against her nerve endings like sparks on gunpowder. She was primed and ready to explode...

Everything changed with a suddenness that caught her off guard, and left her muscles aching with frustration. The feathers had vanished, every single one of them. She found herself lying face-down on the duvet like a landed fish. A gentle weight was pressing on the back of her thighs, and two slender hands were holding her wrists.

"That was just a bit of fun to whet your appetite. Are you ready for the main event?"

Melissa angled her head upward to see the Trixie kneeling on top of her. It had taken Isabella's form again, only now its hair was a vivid pink, darkening to purple at the roots. Outside the door, the real Isabella's laughter was growing more desperate by the second.

"She'll be fine," the Trixie said. "My sisters tend to take the 'hard and fast' approach. Once they've worn her out, they'll move on. They like to keep score amongst themselves of how many organics they've broken. A game within a game, you might say."

Then the Trixie's voice grew soft and seductive, and one hand moved down to rest on Melissa's exposed midriff. "Me, I prefer to take things slow. I like to choose just one victim and really take my time. And since you've so thoughtfully locked us in together..."

The hand began squeezing at the side of her waist, ever-so-gently but with rapid persistence. Melissa had barely recovered her breath from the first assault, and now she had no power to restrain the giggles that flowed out of her. Her instinct was to fight the Trixie off with her free hand, but she knew that wasn't a fight she could win. She had to keep it talking. "I th-hahaha – I thought you wehehehre all one entityhehehehe..."

"We are." The Trixie left off squeezing and began a series of slow downward strokes along Melissa's right side – and at the start of each stroke, its fingers crept a little higher. "That doesn't mean we think alike. Don't human minds also contain many personalities in one? Isn't there a part of you, for instance, that hates the way I'm touching you right now... and another part that's crying out for more?"

Melissa made no answer, only squirmed and wriggled as the fingers broached her shirt and stroked along her ribs. Her giggles came in short bursts as she fought back the urge to scream.

"You were right, by the way. You aren't normally this ticklish."

Hearing the word 'ticklish' somehow made the tickles even worse. She still managed not to scream, but now her giggles were interspersed with high-pitched whimpers.

"You're being affected by our psychic aura. Anyone in close proximity to us believes themselves to be the most ticklish person in the entire galaxy." The Trixie's other hand left her wrist and began teasing her midriff. "And you want to know the funny part? Believing it makes it true. Tickle tickle tickle."

Melissa couldn't hold back any more. She burst into a volley of full-throated laughter.

"That's more like it. Now, I think it's time we got this T-shirt off, don't you?"

CONTINUED BELOW

 

[Underscore Eleven]

Chapter 6: The Captain's Quarters

Jessie had enjoyed watching the onset of her sister's torment. The look on Cassie's face as the four Trixies grabbed hold of her would be ingrained in her memory forever. But then they had carried her to another spot, and Jessie couldn't get a view of them from any angle. Oh well. It was enough to know that she had scored a point over her unfortunate sibling.

She switched back to the rec room camera, but the Comms Officer was being given a break. She still remained hog-tied, face-down on the beanbags, but only one Trixie was by her now, and it wasn't tickling her but gently caressing the back of her neck. It seemed to ask a question, and Erin turned her face up to answer. Her cheeks were streaked with tears, but as she spoke, her lips curled in an attitude of playful defiance. The Trixie gave a mock-frown, then reached down and tweaked her toes, causing Erin to break into a flood of giggles. The Trixie laughed too, and resumed its affectionate caresses.

Jessie smiled at the scene. Everyone seemed to be having fun. She almost wished...

No. She put that thought away as quickly as possible. She was glad to be safely locked up in her room. Definitely glad.

She spent the next fifteen minutes or so bathing in schadenfreude, flicking from one camera to the next, watching the struggles of pinned and helpless victims throughout the ship. But the voyeuristic thrill had faded, and instead she felt only a vague dissatisfaction. The silent figures on the screen seemed light years away from her own bubble of comfortable seclusion.

The silence, in fact, seemed to weigh heavier than before, and she realized she could no longer hear any laughter from the bridge. She brought up the camera feed, and saw that the Trixies had cleared out. The three crewmembers were still where she had seen them last, but now they were alone. The Weapons Officer lay back in the Captain's chair, her eyes closed and a stupid smile on her face. The two technicians, breathing heavily, were exchanging idle comments, and occasionally dissolving into spontaneous laughter. These three had been among the first to be captured – the Trixies must have decided they'd suffered enough, and had gone in search of a fresh meal.

Suddenly, all three crewmembers looked toward the door, then jumped up and ran for the nearest hiding spaces they could find. The Weapons Officer vaulted the edge of the platform that raised the Captain's chair above the bridge, and stashed herself in the alcove beneath. The technicians crammed into the hollow recesses beneath the control boards. The door slid open, and a gang of Trixies marched onto the bridge. They had a human prisoner in their midst. It was Cassie.

But was she a prisoner? She wasn't being held. In fact, she almost seemed to be leading the way – and as she turned her face toward the camera, Jessie recognized an expression she knew well. It was a expression of mischievous determination, one that always boded ill for someone. The crewmembers in hiding went unnoticed as the group headed straight towards the Captain's quarters. Cassie leaned forward and pressed her eye against the scanner.

Watching this disaster unfold on the screen, Jessie felt a sense of dreamlike detachment from her fate. It almost seemed like some other captain was about to meet the talons of those pink-haired demonesses. But then the door slid open, and there stood Cassie and the Trixies, large as life.

Jessie dropped the console and backed herself up on the bed. The propped-up pillows scrunched against the headboard as she pulled her legs up to her chest, trying to make herself as small as possible. "Cassie! What are you doing? Why did you...?"

"Sorry, sis," said Cassie, not looking at all sorry. "You brought this on yourself." She and her cohort of Trixies advanced into the room.

The living space was set up like a studio apartment. In one corner, a comfortable grey sofa and a couple of egg chairs faced the entertainment complex on the wall. A row of kitchen counters and appliances curved around the opposite corner. Jessie's double bed was on the far side of the room, facing the door. The bathroom offered the only possible means of escape – but before Jessie could think of it, a couple of Trixies had already placed themselves in the way. They were moving through the room with a nonchalant air, examining the fixtures and fittings, but all the while giving Jessie sidelong glances and getting ever closer to her.

There were six of them. Jessie recognized the four who had been searching for Cassie in the cargo hold, including the one with the freckles and the babyfaced one with the button nose. The other two must have joined the original group on their way up. One of them had feathery hair and thick, sensual lips, and was modestly dressed in a cream top and dark chinos. The other was a familiar face – it was the bronze-skinned creature with the ringlets who had first told them the rules of the game.

"Thanks to you," said Cassie, "I managed to negotiate a deal. Turns out they score serious points in this game if they get hold of the captain. So they agreed to let me off the hook if I helped them get in here."

The freckled Trixie looked round at its companions. "Did we agree to that? I don't remember making any kind of deal."

Cassie's eyes widened. "What? But you said... Well, okay, you didn't say but I assumed... Look, I helped you, didn't I? Wait! No, come on! This isn't fair!" Cassie's pleas fell on deaf ears. The three Trixies closest to her grabbed her, threw her down onto the sofa, and launched into an uncompromising attack on her feet and ribs. "No no not agaihehehehenn!"

"You idiot!" moaned Jessie, but there wasn't any time for further talk. The three remaining Trixies – Freckles, Button-Nose and Ringlets – had already crawled onto the bed and surrounded her. Button-Nose knelt in front of her, while Ringlets took up position on her right side, Freckles on her left. Jessie, her back still pressed against the headboard, tried to fold herself up even tighter, eyes flicking nervously from one smiling face to another, unable even to muster up the courage to defend herself.

"Look at her," said Freckles. "She wants it. She's ready for it." A finger poked in the direction of her ribs – it didn't make contact, but Jessie still squealed and twisted to one side. Button-Nose wriggled its fingers in the air, then made a lunge for Jessie's feet. She gave another squeak and tried to wedge her feet underneath her buttocks – the motion only caused her to slump down among the pillows, where she lay whimpering.

The Trixies laughed. "I suspect we could break her without even touching her," said Ringlets.

"Maybe," said Freckles, "but where would be the fun in that?"

"Please," Jessie murmured faintly. The sense of power and authority she always felt while on the bridge had totally deserted her. The teasing conversation, set against the backdrop of her sister's screams, was sending shivers of ticklish anticipation through her body. Why didn't they just get it over with?

A fingernail stroked along her left arm. She flinched, and brought her arms together – but in doing so, she left her sides completely open, and yelped as five fingers spidered up her ribs. Her skintight jumpsuit – identical to that worn by the officers, except a lighter shade of blue and with ornate patterns on the shoulders – was no defence at all against those sharp pink nails.

"What a wriggly little captain," taunted Freckles.

"Let's give ourselves a little space to work." The button-nosed Trixie, its sweet and innocent expression only slightly tempered by a half-suppressed smile of mischievous amusement, grabbed Jessie's ankles and retreated backwards, stretching her out full-length on the bed.

It wasn't the first time Jessie had been ganged-up on like this. Memories of teenage slumber parties floated into view. Her friends knew just how ticklish she was, and once in a while they had tried to pin her down and give her a real going-over. But Jessie was adept at fighting back, and always found some way of turning the tables on her captors. She had to remind herself that such an effort here would be wasted. Even though no-one was holding her arms, and the Trixies did look so very vulnerable... She found herself gazing at Ringlets' partially-exposed midriff and bare shoulders. What would happen if she reached out and...?

Nothing good, most likely.

Her reflections were interrupted by the sensation of a fingernail drawing tight circles in the center of her heel. She gasped in shock and then began to kick, but the button-nosed Trixie had its leg wrapped round her ankle, holding her foot securely in place. "No wait – no!" she squeaked. Button-Nose's smile grew a little wider, and the maddening circles continued. If Jessie had been hoping the jumpsuit would protect her feet, she was much mistaken – in fact, the synthetic fabric only seemed to enhance her sensitivity.

And now the other two, not about to let their comrade have all the fun, started dancing their fingers in quick, light motions over Jessie's chest, belly and ribs. Their actions were perfectly co-ordinated, and their hands darted in and out so quickly that no matter how much Jessie's arms flailed, she could never catch them. Jessie broke into childish giggles, blushing with shame at being brought to such a plight. The quick, skittering tickles might have even been enjoyable, if it wasn't for that nail persistently probing at her heel.

Then a hand gripped the toes of her right foot and pulled them back. The elasticated fabric, always conforming to the shape of her body, pressed all the more tightly against her arch. The tingling sensation this created was nothing to what she knew was coming. The fingernail that had been torturing her heel swept upward in one quick movement, drawing a line from her heel to the ball of her foot.

Jessie's squealing laughter reached another pitch. She suddenly succeeded in snatching hold of one of Ringlet's hands, compressing it between her fingers. Her eyes lighted on that little slice of bare midriff, and unthinkingly she thrust out her right arm and squeezed the Trixie's waist.

The bronze-skinned Trixie didn't flinch – but the moment Jessie's fingers made contact, five phantom fingers closed around her own waist and gave an identical squeeze.

"That," said Ringlets, extracting its hand easily as Jessie rolled in laughter, "is one of the more interesting side-effects of our psychic aura. Anything you try to do to us, happens to you."

"Thahahat's not even faihehehehair!" Jessie's voice had become girlishly high-pitched – she was mortified at the sound of it, but any hope of regaining her composure was long gone. That dreadful finger was still tracing up and down her sole, and Freckles was tickling her upper body with lightning speed. Ringlets seemed to be taking a moment to drink in the sight of Jessie's helplessness.

"I admit it stacks the odds a little in our favour – but that's just the way we like it. Do feel free to try again, if it makes you feel better." The Trixie lifted the hem of its tank top to expose a supple belly. "Go ahead. Tickle me."

At the same moment, Button-Nose switched tactics, scrabbling all four nails against the ball of Jessie's foot. Taken by surprise, Jessie screeched – and the instinct to fight back overrode all logical considerations. She bounced onto her right side, flung out her arms, and latched on to Ringlet's midriff with both hands.

"Eeeheheheheek!" Phantom fingers wrapped around her belly, seemingly ignoring the jumpsuit to press directly against her naked skin. Unable to muster up the self-control to disengage, she curled into the Trixie's lap, still clinging to its bare midriff – and every time her own fingers convulsed, the phantom fingers followed suit. She was tickling herself, and there was nothing she could do about it.

The Trixies found this situation utterly hilarious; Ringlets was laughing so hard that it almost seemed to really feel Jessie's touch. "If you want your tummy tickled that bad," Freckles said, "you only had to say." It curved its hand into a claw and dug into the sensitive flesh around her belly-button.

That gave Jessie the impetus she needed to let go. She swatted at the Trixie's hand but it was firmly locked on to its target – and the other hand began massaging her ribs, sending her into even louder shrieks of laughter and forcing her to press her arm against her side. Ringlets joined in the attack, likewise turning its hands into claws – one hand clamped around her waist, while the other worked as high as it could towards her underarm. Button-Nose decided that her right foot had been punished enough, and grabbed hold of her left instead – a virgin surface for a fresh assault.

"She's so ticklish! She's completely losing it." Jessie didn't know which one of them had spoken – she barely heard the words over the sound of her own laughter. Another Trixie chimed in, and its voice seemed to echo through the caverns of her mind: "Does she realize we're only getting started?"

CONTINUED BELOW

 

[Underscore Eleven]

Chapter 7: Melissa Tied

Melissa lay panting on the bed, each breath trailing off into a giggle as she worked the last vestiges of helpless laughter out of her system. That had been intense.

Her T-shirt had long since been thrown to the floor, leaving her with nothing but her two-piece swimsuit for protection. Little enough protection it had been. Two triangles of bright red nylon stretched across her breasts, joined together by a thin cord. More strings wrapped in a criss-cross pattern round her shoulder-blades, thankfully keeping the bikini in place despite all the thrashing she'd been doing. Her bikini bottoms weren't as skimpy as they might be, but still left her hips and thighs totally exposed.

That made it all the more frustrating that the Trixie had totally ignored her pelvic region – after that first feathery assault, it had concentrated solely on her ribs and underarms, never letting its hands make the slightest approach towards her waistline. The ticklish attack had been torment enough, but the way it had left her aflame with desire... If only the damn thing didn't look so much like Isabella.

After she'd taken as much as she could take, the Trixie had eased off her. For a while it had lain beside her, alternating between affectionate caresses and crafty tickles; then it climbed off the bed and left her to herself. She didn't know what it was doing now – she could still hear it moving round the room. She rolled over and saw it leaning half-inside the closet, poking through the stacked towels and linen.

"What are you looking for?" she asked.

The Trixie shrugged. "I hoped you had a pair of handcuffs stashed away somewhere. You'd be surprised how many people do. I didn't want to ruin your tights unless I had to." It lifted up a hand in which it held two pairs of wadded-up black tights.

"My tights?" Melissa said, uncomprehending. "What do you need those for?"

"To tie you up, of course."

Melissa's brain slammed on the brakes as realization hit her. Somehow she had thought the worst was over, but why should it be over? She was still locked in her room with a tickle-hungry alien, and her psychically-enhanced sensitivity hadn't dampened one iota. This wasn't over by a long shot.

Her eyes darted to the door – but even if she could open it in time, the entire ship was full of Trixies. They might be waiting right outside. The real Isabella, whose gorgeous laughter had filtered through the door a good long while, was silent now. Maybe they were giving her a break – or maybe, a darker thought whispered in her mind, they'd taken her elsewhere to subject her to a still more ticklish investigation.

For a moment, the mental image distracted her from her own predicament – and before she knew what was happening, the faux-Isabella had caught hold of her arm and pulled it up above her head. She felt soft nylon fabric wrap around her wrist – she gave a little cry of "No!" and tried to jerk her arm away.

"Better behave," the Trixie said warningly. It got onto the bed and trapped her arm between its legs, leaving it with two hands free to tie the knot. When Melissa continued to struggle, it reached down with one hand and tickled her bare sides. "I said behave."

"Nahahah okay okay okahahahaha!" The Trixie didn't let up, switching quickly from one side to the other to keep Melissa dancing.

"Are you going to be good and keep still?"

"Yehehess I prohomiiisehehe!"

"Good." The Trixie tied her wrist firmly to the bedstead and moved over to repeat the operation on the other side. Melissa kept her promise and lay tremblingly still until both wrists were tied, then gave an experimental tug. The Trixie knew its business – she was well and truly trapped. A single pair of tights, woven through the bars, had rendered her completely helpless.

So what was the other pair for?

"Now for your ankles."

"Oh no no come on!" Despite her protests, Melissa didn't try to fight. She knew it wouldn't change the end result, and she would only earn herself more tickles in the meantime. Luckily for her, the bed had no tailboard – the Trixie was obviously intending to simply tie her feet together.

Apparently reassured by her submissiveness, it didn't pin her down. With one end of a nylon legging pressed against her calf, it held her left leg a little in the air and began wrapping the tights around her ankle. The fabric whisked against the back of her heel, and she flinched. The Trixie frowned. "Keep still, remember?"

"I am, I am!" she whimpered.

The Trixie made another pass around her ankle, and this time a fingernail grazed her skin. She gave an even bigger jolt. "If you won't keep still..." the Trixie warned her.

"I will! I'm sorry! That was the last time!"

"I hope so." The Trixie began to tie a complicated knot, which involved working the loose end of the legging underneath the coils. Melissa clenched her teeth and forced herself into statuesque stillness as sharp nails brushed against her ankle-bone, simultaneously with the soft touch of the nylon. The moment seemed a long one – but then the knot was looped and tied, and the Trixie turned around to focus on the other foot. Once again, it placed one hand underneath her leg to lift it up – but this time, as it worked on winding the tights around her ankle, the fingertips that touched her calf were making casual stroking motions.

"Oh no don't," whispered Melissa. "That – that tickles – dohohaha don't!" Uncontrollably she yanked her leg away, unravelling the half-completed knot.

"Tsk tsk." The Trixie shook its head in disapproval. "And you were doing so well."

"That wasn't my fault! You – You tickled me!"

"Well, yeah." The Trixie dropped its mock-stern attitude and broke into a friendly grin. "In case you hadn't noticed, that's what I do. Like this." Grabbing the loose end of the nylon tights, it pulled Melissa's bound foot into its lap and wriggled its fingers into her sole.

"Oh no nahahaha stahahahahp!" This was even worse than the feathers. The Trixie knew exactly how to use its nails, never pressing hard enough to scratch but never too light either. Every touch was like a tiny bolt of ticklish lightning, galvanizing Melissa's foot, and her entire body, into frantic motion. Her right foot kicked against the Trixie's legs, and then plunged into its lap to knock aside those gliding fingers – with predictable results.

"Aww, does this little foot want to play too?"

"Nononononohohahahahaha!" The tickles transferred seamlessly from one foot to the other – and her left foot, now released, immediately attempted an identical rescue, only to fall victim to the same trap it had just escaped.

"If you want me to tickle both these feet at once, you're going to have to let me finish tying them." The Trixie sat down on Melissa's legs and quickly finished binding her right ankle, then looped the slack around and tied it so that both ankles were firmly pressed together. The brief respite this gave her from the tickling wasn't very restful when she thought of what it meant. Having one foot tickled at a time had been unbearable. Both at once would be...

"Fuhuckhahahahahahaha!" Against her expectations, the Trixie hadn't used its nails, but had taken each foot in a pincer grip and squeezed. The headboard creaked as she yanked at her restraints more desperately than ever. "Pleheheheheheheese!"

"Oh, you want some more?" Now the Trixie's fingernails sprung into action – and Melissa wished it would go back to squeezing. The nails raced over her crinkling soles in an unpredictable pattern, forcing her into renewed spasms of helpless laughter. Her feet wriggled wildly, each one trying to shield the other, but their movements only made the high-speed exploration of her soles still more effective.

After a few minutes of this torment, the Trixie called off its assault and turned around to face her. "As much fun as this is, I'm more an upper body kind of girl. And these defenceless ribs are just screaming out for some attention."

"Oh no no noooo!" As far as Melissa was concerned, the only part of her that was screaming for attention was a certain moist spot right between her thighs, but the Trixie didn't seem at all interested in answering this call. Its hands hovered low over her sides, fingers wriggling tauntingly, making Melissa squirm and buck even before they had made contact.

Why, why, why did it look so much like Isabella? She could keep her arousal under control if only it had taken any other shape – but to have her roommate's flawless body straddling her thighs, to see those wide eyes gazing down on her with undivided interest, had been a fantasy that had occupied her nights for eight long months. And though she had never envisioned it quite like this, the added stimulus of Isabella's teasing grin and – oh God – Isabella's fingers skipping lightly up and down her sides, was sending her into a state of libidinous agony she'd never known before.

The Trixie kept the first few tickles light, and broke into a low chuckle at Melissa's reaction. Its voice took on a slow and sultry tinge once more, and it clasped her arms gently just below the elbows. "Remember how I told you," it said, "that our psychic aura makes you think you're the most ticklish person in the galaxy? Well, here's another fun fact for you. Organic beings always feel so much more sensitive when they're in restraints." As it spoke, its fingers worked downward in slow, zigzag strokes. "Which means that right now," it continued, "you're even more ticklish" – the fingertips caressed her shoulders, making Melissa twist and whine – "than the most ticklish person in the galaxy."

The fingers brushed against her underarms, and Melissa couldn't hold back a bark of laughter.

"And the teasing makes it even worse, doesn't it? Cootchie cootchie coo." Melissa braced – but instead of targeting her underarms, the Trixie grabbed her just below the ribs. The surprise made her screech and fall immediately into uncontrollable laughter, which the Trixie accentuated by running its nails up her ribs, darting them briefly into her armpits, and then relaxing into an unrestrained upper-body onslaught.

"Nohoho I cahan't," Melissa gasped, struggling to form words through her laughter. "I cahan't take it pleheheese stahahaha – Aah!"

Melissa's sudden squeal gave the Trixie pause. Its fingers had just grazed the sides of her breasts, which the skimpy bikini left unprotected. The Trixie's grin grew wider. "Is this... a weak spot?" Without another moment's pause it wriggled all four fingers of each hand into the fleshy crevice.

Melissa got out one more shriek before her voice gave out, and her laughter dwindled to a silent rictus. She knew by now that the Trixie would stop before she was completely out of breath, but that was the least of her concerns. She tried to rub her thighs together, anything to quell the fire inside, but it was no use. She was completely at the Trixie's mercy – and now, while it continued tickling the weak spot at her sides, its thumbs were torturously flicking at her nipples.

And to top everything off, her own silence brought another sound to her attention. The real Isabella was, after all, still out in the corridor, and apparently her break was over. Her sexy laugh and her adorable pleas seemed to bypass Melissa's brain and react directly with her loins, stoking the fires of lust still further.

How much longer could this go on?

CONTINUED BELOW

 

[Underscore Eleven]

Chapter 8: A New Game

How much longer could this go on? Jessie had never been tickled quite like this before. The Trixies were exploiting every weakness they could find, from the backs of her knees even to the palms of her hands. Her heart pounded in her chest, and her lungs were weak from laughing, and still they showed no sign of relenting.

But she let herself surrender to the ticklish sensation, trusting these strange creatures not to go too far. Even if she hadn't seen them showing mercy to their victims through the camera feeds, she couldn't help but trust them now she was up close to them. Their teasing laughter was so friendly, so affectionate, it was impossible to think they meant her harm.

Still, she was immensely glad when they finally withdrew their hands and let her curl herself into a giggling ball. "That wasn't too bad, was it?" said Ringlets. "For the first round."

Jessie tried her best to ignore this remark and focused on recovering her breath. The freckled Trixie in the hoodie lay down beside her and, to her surprise, wrapped her in a tight hug, snaking both arms around her from behind and crossing them against her chest. She flinched at the first touch but then relaxed, extending her legs to let the Trixie nestle up to her. A wave of unexpected serenity washed over her. Cassie had been silent for a while now – Jessie felt a burst of love towards her, and hoped she felt as happy as she did in this moment.

The peace, of course, was destined not to last. As her breathing grew more regular, she felt a quick swipe across her foot. She raised her head to see Button-Nose innocently looking in the other direction. Playing along, Jessie dropped her head back to the pillow. Another fingernail swept across her sole, this time pausing for a moment to dig into the center of her heel. She squeaked and tried to push herself up.

"Nuh-uh," Freckles whispered in her ear. "You're not going anywhere." What had been a hug now became a grapple that kept her arms pressed tightly to her sides, while ten fingers tapped a staccato pattern on her ribs.

Jessie spluttered, biting back the laughter. She knew the giggles, when they came, would once again be embarrassingly shrill. She couldn't hold them back forever, but... some strange gasping noises from the sofa indicated that Cassie was also trying hard not to be the first to break the silence. She just had to hold out until Cassie cracked, and then her sister's screams would mask her own.

The Trixies seemed to be encouraging the contest, keeping their attentions light. Jessie kept her mouth clamped shut as Button-Nose and Freckles teased her feet and ribs, but she couldn't stop the squeals forcing their way through. Even under normal circumstances, it wasn't hard to shatter her composure – but she'd realized by now that the Trixies were in some way amplifying the effect of every touch, heightening her already extreme sensitivity. And the more she resisted the urge to laugh, the more infuriating the light tickles became.

A mop of pink ringlets and a pair of brown shoulders was all that could be seen of the third Trixie. It had sat down on the floor with its back against the bed, and a white glow from its lap left no doubt what it was doing. It had got hold of Jessie's console, and was examining it carefully. Then it pushed itself up and perched on the edge of the mattress. "Everybody stop, please."

Its voice was quiet, but was instantly obeyed – the other Trixies evidently looked to this one as a leader. Jessie let out a grateful breath, while Freckles untangled itself and sat up to see what was going on. Ringlets turned the console screen in Jessie's direction. "Tell me if I've understood this correctly. All these little dots are people. White dots are safe, pink dots are being tickled. Am I right?"

Jessie hesitated – and Freckles' hand clamped down on her ribs. "Yehehehehess!" she burst out helplessly.

"I thought so." Ringlets turned the console round again, the glow of the screen throwing angular shadows across its face. "There's far too many white dots for my liking. Look, they're all hiding in their rooms."

"We could phase in there and get them," Button-Nose suggested, accentuating the last two words with a squeeze of Jessie's heel. But it didn't seem to be a serious suggestion – Ringlets simply murmured "Rules are rules" without taking its eyes off the screen.

Then it said: "We need to get those doors open. And the captain is going to tell us how."

"You can't," said Jessie quickly. "Locked doors can only be opened from the inside."

"What if there's a fire, or a medical emergency? There has to be some way to override the locking mechanism."

"Everything's on automatic circuits," Jessie said. "There is no manual override." It was a feeble lie, but she had to make some effort to ward off the threatened interrogation. No matter how much she might trust them, she couldn't, she just couldn't, give out classified codes to unknown alien entities. That was a bright line. Which meant that the interrogation would go on for a long time, unless she could convince them it wasn't necessary.

"Perhaps your First Officer will be a little more forthcoming." Ringlets walked over to the sofa and hunkered down in front of Cassie. "Tell us the code to disable all the door locks."

Jessie couldn't see what was happening, but a second later she heard Cassie squeak "I'll never tell you!"

"Aha, so there is a code." Ringlets straightened up. "And you both know it. Good. That means we can play a little game together."

"Cass-iee," Jessie groaned, rubbing her hands against her temples. "When we get out of this, remind me to demote you. Way down. Way, way down."

"I – But – They tickled me!" protested Cassie, as if that explained everything.

"Pay attention." The Trixie with the ringlets clapped its hands, a new gleam of excitement in its eyes. "These are the rules. The first one to tell us how to override the doors will be released, and will not be subjected to any further tickling. The other... will face double trouble. Understood?"

"We can't tell you!" Jessie insisted, but already the Trixies were getting to work. "Honest, wehahaha we can't – cahahaha – stahaha we – nohohoo!" Her words became unintelligible as Freckles' hands clutched at her sides and Button-Nose's nails once again traversed her soles. The bedsprings bounced as Ringlets rejoined its companions, fighting Jessie's flailing hands to try and get access to her underarms.

"Better not hold out too long," the Trixie taunted. Its serious demeanour had dropped again, and it was laughing like a child with a new toy. "Or else you know what happens. Double trouble!"

It wasn't hard to figure out what that meant. There were six Trixies in the room, three on each girl. If the winner of the game became immune to tickling, that would leave three Trixies with nothing else to do but join their friends in tickling the loser. Six Trixies, one victim.

"Cassie dohohohon't – don't say anythehehing!" Jessie knew her duty to the ship, but could she trust her sister's principles to be as strong? If Cassie surrendered, Jessie's loyal sacrifice would be for nothing. If they kept up a united front, at least they'd both escape the double trouble – but if she couldn't trust Cassie to keep quiet, the better course of action would be to give in now, and betray her sister before she was betrayed. Cassie, of course, would be thinking exactly the same thing – which only made her betrayal the more likely.

Later, with a calmer head, Jessie had to admire what the Trixies had accomplished. They'd managed to weaponize sibling rivalry. Neither one of them would have given in to a regular interrogation, since they knew the Trixies wouldn't push them into real torture. But now they'd been pitted against each other, it had become a question of pride – neither of them wanted to give the other the satisfaction of winning.

Needless to say, the exigencies of the situation were not easy to calculate while under the influence of a threefold tickle-attack. Jessie's thoughts were mostly concerned with the thirty fingers probing at her sensitive flesh – and before she had even figured out her options, things had taken a turn for the worse.

Ringlets was determinedly trying to tickle Jessie's underarms, but this was one area where the skintight jumpsuit did offer some form of protection. Whenever the Trixie managed to pin an arm above her head, the fabric stretched taut across her armpit, making it harder for the wriggling fingers to find purchase. And when the arm was released, with the Trixie's fingers trapped inside, all they could do was press against the spot they were wedged into. This tickled plenty from Jessie's point of view, but Ringlets wasn't satisfied. Which is why the Trixie had decided that the jumpsuit had to go.

The uniform was a simple one-piece, with a discrete zip from the neck down to the navel, and a strap that crossed over the chest and clicked into the sockets on the left shoulder. Jessie's first alarm was the telltale sound of these metal fastenings snapping loose – and then her thrashing grew more frantic as the bronze-skinned Trixie took the zipper between thumb and forefinger and pulled.

Freckles stopped to watch as the zipper reached Jessie's navel, leaving a wide V of naked flesh up to her shoulders. Her breasts were only just contained – but with Button-Nose still tickling her feet, they were on the verge of shaking themselves loose. Jessie grabbed the two flaps of the fabric and tried to cover herself up again, but a few well-placed pokes forced her to relinquish her grip. Then the Trixies eased her arms out of her sleeves and rolled the jumpsuit down to her hips, leaving her naked from the waist up.

"Now let's get those underarms." With one accord, the Trixies grabbed an arm each and lifted it into the air, then pushed their fingers into the exposed hollows.

"Nahohohohoho!" Howling with laughter, Jessie tried her best to wriggle free, but they had her in an iron grip. Then, almost by accident, she hit on the idea of twisting. She rolled onto her right side, then onto her left, keeping one underarm always pressed against the duvet.

"This one certainly enjoys making things difficult," Ringlets mused. "Looks like we're doing this the hard way."

There was a momentary lull, a movement of bodies – Jessie couldn't concentrate on what was happening, but she felt her upper arms pulled back, and found her head resting on Ringlets' chest. She understood now what 'the hard way' entailed. The Trixie had knotted its arms around hers and braced them against the back of her neck, so that when she tried to pull her own arms down, she only succeeded in yanking her head forward. Her underarms were totally defenceless, and now there really was nothing she could do about it.

Freckles wriggled its fingers in the air, seemingly more by way of preparation than as a teasing gesture. Then it plunged in, tickling the smooth hollows with lightning-fast but tormentingly gentle strokes. Jessie fought valiantly, but there was no escape. Ringlets, reduced to more a passive role, contented itself with whispering sweet nothings into her ear. "Does that tickle? Cootchie cootchie cootchie." Any taunts more complex than this would have been lost on her, but the simple repetitions and the babytalk had the effect of wildly augmenting her suffering.

Meanwhile, Cassie's squeals also filled the air. Unlike Jessie, who had long since given in to simple laughter, Cassie was still pleading with her captors. Every time she tried to speak, Jessie's blood ran cold. Was she giving in? Was she telling them the code? Over the sound of her own screams, Jessie made out the words "...swear I don't knahahahoow..." She was trying to pretend she didn't know the code – but how long would it be before she cracked?

Freckles' fingers were swooping down now to embrace her ribs, then climbing back into her underarms. Button-Nose, sitting on her ankles, had switched to a new method of torturing her feet, pressing the pads of its fingertips into multiple random spots along each arch. Jessie couldn't stop the phrase 'double trouble' turning itself over in her mind. Six of them – three was bad enough. Other phrases floated through her head, like 'duty' and 'responsibility', but if Cassie gave in first... 'Double trouble, double trouble.'

Freckles' attention was drifting more and more to Jessie's sides, lingering longer with each pass. "Hey!" snapped Ringlets. "Underarms!"

"Yeah, sorry but... This cute little belly is calling out to me." The freckled Trixie skittered the fingers of both hands across her naked belly, then dug in. Jessie sucked in a deep breath and let out another high-pitched volley of laughter. Every variation in the tickling sent her mind into an even greater state of panic.

Ringlets sighed. "If you want a job doing..." Jessie's arms were released from their entanglement, and ten fingers wormed into her armpits from behind. Jessie's arms came quickly to her sides, but the fingers kept on wriggling. Now they were no longer obstructed by the uniform, they could manoeuvre more adroitly, and found their way into the sensitive spots right in the center of each hollow.

Jessie's palms slapped uselessly against the mattress. She had lost all control over her movements, and didn't even make any attempt to defend herself against Freckles' assault on her bare belly. The Trixie was alternating between light tickles and firm squeezes – and there was something else there too, something she couldn't put her finger on. It took her a while to realize what was happening. It was that psychic reciprocity again. Her head had sunk down into Ringlets' lap, and every time her hair brushed its exposed midriff, she felt a corresponding sweeping sensation across her own belly. This just wasn't fair at all.

"Ready to surrender?" Ringlets asked. The part of Jessie's mind that was still able to analyze the situation... wasn't sure. She knew she could withstand more than this, and it was her duty to the passengers to hold out as long as possible. But one word from Cassie could cancel out that duty and send her to her doom. Better to surrender now... better to surrender...

"I never thought I'd say this," Button-Nose said, "but I've done everything I can do with these feet. Time to move on up a little higher." The Trixie turned itself around and started walking its fingers up Jessie's legs, its gaze fixed on her thighs.

Jessie managed to squeak out a single "No!" before lapsing into terrified laughter. She didn't know what she thought the cry of protest would accomplish. The fingers tweaked her knees as they crept upward, and the babyfaced Trixie, looking positively evil now, shifted its position for better reach. Then eight fingernails skated up her inner thighs, eliciting a desperate shriek from the despairing victim.

Jessie didn't know whether to be thankful that her legs were still inside the jumpsuit. Not only was the sheer fabric useless as protection, it even seemed to add an extra dimension to the tickling, helping the Trixie's nails glide more easily across her skin. Her thighs were by far the most ticklish spot on her entire body, and now, with the psychic enhancement...

Imagine this, the treacherous thought came to her, doubled.

That settled it. There was no way she was letting Cassie win this game. To hell with duty. She had to surrender.

"I – hahahaha – I sahahahahaha – ahahahaha!" She realized with horror that she couldn't speak. She could only laugh frantically as Button-Nose massaged her thighs, Freckles squeezed her waist, and Ringlets dug its hands into her underarms.

And then she heard Cassie's voice ring out: "I'll talk!"

Silence fell as all the Trixies simultaneously disengaged. Ringlets jumped off the bed and grabbed the console, letting Jessie's head fall back onto the mattress. She stared up at the ceiling, hyperventilating – and in a sudden moment of clarity, she realized she had one last hope. There were two ways of unlocking the doors to all the living quarters. One was to enter a sixteen-digit code into the console. The other...

She drew a deep breath and shouted: "Emergency protocol seventeen!"

The console, programmed to recognize her voice-print, gave a beep of acknowledgement. The ceiling lights turned red, and a robotic voice issued from the PA system: "Emergency protocol seventeen. All main-grid locking circuits deactivated."

Ringlets paused halfway to the sofa. A moment passed, and then all the Trixies gave a collective shiver of delight. "Oh, that tastes goood!" Freckles moaned, hugging its arms into its its chest. Jessie didn't have to see the screen to know that all those white dots would be turning pink.

"Thank you, Captain," Ringlets said. "We'll keep our side of the deal. You can rest now."

"No, hold on," gasped Cassie. "I was gonna tell you..."

"Unfortunately, you weren't quite quick enough," said Ringlets, looking down at her over the back of the sofa. "We'll give you some time to recover, but when you do..." The Trixie's eyes glinted mischievously. "Double trouble."

Jessie rolled over onto her side, grinning with relief and satisfaction. Cassie's breathless protests were music to her ears. Now that girl was really gonna... get what was coming... Jessie's thoughts were growing sluggish. She closed her eyes just for a moment...

She woke to the sound of piercing screams, so loud that it was astonishing that she'd been able to sleep through it. Pushing herself upright, she caught a glimpse of the bedside clock – she'd been out for about half an hour. There was a crowd of Trixies round the sofa. All she could see of her sister was her feet, one of them captured by Ringlets and the other by the Trixie with the feathery hair. Needless to say, both of them were tickling furiously.

She'd never heard Cassie make these kind of sounds before. She was uttering a series of short, sharp screams, interspersed with throaty moans. She sounded in real distress. At the risk of drawing attention to herself, Jessie said: "Hey, don't you think she's had enough?"

"Ask her," said Ringlets, without looking up.

What did that mean? Obviously Cassie was in no state to answer any questions. Growing increasingly concerned, Jessie looked around for the console, and saw it lying at the foot of the bed, half-hidden in a fold of the duvet. She picked it up and zeroed in on Cassie's biochip data. The readings were off the charts. The poor girl was... was...

...in the middle of a thundering orgasm. The console didn't say as much, but the readings left no room for doubt.

"O-kay then." Jessie tossed the console back onto the bed and swung her legs over the side. "I think I'll leave you to it, sis. I'm going to take a shower."

CONTINUED BELOW

 

[Underscore Eleven]

Chapter 9: Revelations

Melissa was in a hell of expectation. The Isabella-Trixie was giving her another break, but there was no break from the insane arousal pulsing in her loins like a wave against a dam. "Please," she whispered. "Please..." She couldn't bring herself to say it. The Trixie knew. It must know, surely?

"What's the matter? Ready for another round?" The Trixie was lying beside her, propped up on one elbow. Its fingers made a little stroking motion in the air.

"No no... Nonononono." The giggles broke loose before the fingers even reached her – and when they touched down on on her collar-bone, she fell into immediate hysterics.

"Oh, you're definitely ready for it. Tickle tickle tickle."

The Trixie's soft fingertips only lightly grazed her skin, but in her helpless state this was more than enough to keep her laughing. The fingers crept down to the curves of her breasts, tightly enclosed in the scarlet bikini.

"Oh god no no hahahaha!" Just one hand, four fingers, stroking the inside of her cleavage – she couldn't take it. She didn't know which was worse, the tickling or the arousal. She tried once more to tug her arms loose from her restraints, but she was still bound as inescapably as ever.

"Tickles here, doesn't it? You like this?"

"Fuhuhck yes no stahahahp!" No matter how much she bounced and writhed, the Trixie followed all her movements, still toying gently with her cleavage. "Please please please no more just do it! Do it!"

The Trixie stopped tickling. "Do what?" it asked, in obviously feigned puzzlement.

"Get... Get me off!" There, she'd said it. Now finally – finally – maybe...

"I'm not going to do that."

"What?" Melissa's agony seemed to double in that moment. "Why not?"

"Because that isn't what you want."

The Trixie spoke with total self-assurance – and Melissa realized with a jolt that it was true. She wanted Isabella, and only Isabella; not something that looked like her. It wasn't Isabella's body that she craved, it was her mind and soul. She'd rather burn with lust than take relief from anyone but her. The Trixie's appearance had confused her – she had almost been false to the hope that she had cherished for so many months.

Before either of them could say another word, the lights in the room took on a reddish hue, and an automated voice said: "Emergency protocol seventeen. All main-grid locking circuits deactivated."

"Huh." The Trixie sat upright, seeming to tense in anticipation, then gave a little shiver of satisfaction. "Well, this changes things." It turned to Melissa, smiling sympathetically. "I'll let you go," it said, "and you can do... whatever it is you need to do. I think I'll go on one last spree before it's time to leave."

"You're leaving?" said Melissa, surprised to find herself a little disappointed.

"The game is nearly over. But the final play just got a lot more interesting." Seeing Melissa's nervous glance towards the door, the Trixie added: "They won't come in here. Not when there's so much fresh meat on hand. You'll be safe now." It reached out to unfasten her restraints – and then the door slid open.

It was Isabella. Her hair and clothes were in total disarray, and she was breathing heavily, propping herself up on the doorframe. She took a step into the room, then gazed in astonishment at the scene in front of her.

The Trixie gave a wicked grin. "On second thought," it said, "I'm sure your roommate will take care of you." It clambered off the bed, leaving Melissa's wrists tied to the headboard. Isabella shrunk into a corner as it passed. "Don't mind me," the Trixie said, "I was just leaving. But I think your friend could use a hand. Or two." It wriggled its fingers in a teasing farewell gesture, then disappeared down the corridor.

Isabella approached slowly. Her expression was hard to read – confusion and embarrassment seemed to be giving way to something else, something that caused her face to harden like a mask. Her eyes swept up and down Melissa's body.

"Hey, Izzy, just... untie me, yeah?"

"I don't think so." Isabella's lips parted in a smile. "You don't know how long I've dreamt of getting you like this."

"Wh-what?" Melissa choked back a desperate giggle as Isabella's fingers lighted on her midriff.

"You've had this coming for a long time, girl." The twitching fingers touched her lower ribs and kept on climbing. "The way you're always teasing me. Showing off your body in these skimpy outfits." She plucked at the strap of Melissa's bikini, then followed the edge of the fabric with her fingers, nails grazing the side of her breast. "And the way you keep these underarms so silky smooth." She flicked her fingers into the hollow of Melissa's armpit.

"What... what are you saying?" Melissa managed to blurt out through the giggles.

"I..." Isabella paused, and seemed to snap out of a trance. She withdrew her hand and smoothed her hair back, laughing nervously. "I'm just kidding. Sorry. I'll untie you."

"No wait, not yet!"

The words left Melissa's mouth of their own accord. Isabella froze, and scanned her friend's body once again as comprehension dawned. "Why did that Trixie look like me?" she asked.

"Because..." Melissa felt her cheeks go hot. "Because it knew I have a crush on you."

"You have a crush on me?" Isabella echoed. Her eyes shone with surprise and delight, and then narrowed playfully. "And you never told me? After all this time? Maybe you do deserve a little punishment." Her hand stretched out and scrabbled at Melissa's belly.

"Yehehehes lower! Lower!" Melissa pushed herself further up the mattress, trying to get her hips under the tickling fingers.

"You want me to touch you lower?"

"Yehehehesss do it! Do it!"

"Alright. But like you said... not yet." She jumped onto the bed and wrapped both hands around Melissa's ribs. "I wanna play first. Ketcha ketcha ketcha!"

Melissa threw her head back and screamed happily. "Noho Izzy nohohoho fuhahahaha!"

CONTINUED BELOW

 

[Underscore Eleven]

Chapter 10: An End and A Beginning

Jessie left her jumpsuit on the bathroom floor and stepped into the metal cylinder. After the experiences of the last few hours, a nice relaxing shower was exactly what she needed. The steel door slotted into place behind her, becoming a part of the gray wall that surrounded her on all sides. Two circles of LED lights illuminated the space.

The word 'shower' was a callback to the early days of civilization, when people could only get clean by standing in a flow of water and rubbing themselves with various chemicals. Modern showers were much more efficient and hygienic. Instead of water, they used pressurized steam, mixed with an aerosol that cooled it to a pleasant temperature and helped to cleanse the body of contaminants. The steam was directed through twenty small nozzles arrayed in a ring around the inside of the cylinder. The nozzles could rotate around the ring, and the ring itself could move freely up and down. The process was fully automatic, so all Jessie had to do was stand still and let it happen. The only downside was that it always tickled slightly—

Jessie yelped and almost doubled over as the steam jets whirred into life around her waist. That tickled a lot more than she expected. With the Trixies' aura amping up her sensitivity, and her flesh still tender from the punishment it had taken, those twenty tendrils of high-pressure steam felt like twenty nails wriggling into her skin.

Clenching her eyes tight, Jessie stemmed the flow of giggles and forced herself to straighten up. She had wrapped her arms reflexively around her waist, and now that her belly was protected the steam didn't tickle quite as bad. But the rotating ring of jets was already rising higher, and Jessie clutched her arms to her chest in a panic as she tried to cover up her ribs and her breasts at the same time. The steam jets touched her shoulders and began gliding back down again.

This was ridiculous. She'd never get clean like this. She half made up her mind to get out of the shower, but... When this was over, she'd be needed on the bridge, and the captain had to be presentable. She'd give it one more try. She just had to acclimatize, that's all.

The nozzles reached her midriff, and this time she kept her arms against her chest, letting the steam caress her on all sides. It made her stamp and giggle helplessly, but she could bear it. See, she told herself, this isn't so bad. The steam jets rose up for another pass. She bit her lip and tried to lift her arms up in the air, but her arms seemed to have other ideas – she couldn't help jerking them back down to her sides. Making a supreme effort, she put her hands behind her head and interlocked her fingers, just as the steam jets reached her underarms.

Unlike most of the showers on the ship, Jessie's was equipped with top-of-the-range AI capabilities. Ultraviolet laser beams assessed the cleanliness of every patch of skin and adjusted the nozzle strength accordingly. And rather than simply going up and down in a pre-programmed motion, the jets honed in on any spot that needed extra attention. As the ring arrived at the level of her underarms, the nozzles tightened, and the steam jets became needle-thin. They stopped rotating, and instead began swiveling just an inch or two in each direction, tracing systematically from left to right.

"No no nahahaha!" Jessie burst into laughter, humiliated to find herself pleading with a machine. There were three or four jets targeting each underarm – each one felt like the quill-end of a feather being dragged against her skin. She mustered all her willpower to keep her fingers interlocked and her hands pressed against her head, and lasted all of two seconds before succumbing. Her knees gave way as the tension of the effort to resist drained out of her, and she found herself crouching on the floor of the cylinder, arms pressed to her sides, giggling like a loon.

The intelligent steam jets noticed her sudden disappearance and descended, sweeping quickly up and down her body as they reassessed the situation. Jessie lost her balance and collapsed onto the floor in a fetal position. This brought the soles of her feet into view, and the nozzles decided that these needed a very thorough cleansing.

Jessie shrieked and put her feet down flat on the floor, but now the steam jets went straight for her thighs. She rolled over and tried to push herself up, reaching for the handle of the door – but the moment her right arm left her side, blasts of steam burrowed into her underarm, causing her to fall back again. She couldn't reach it. She couldn't reach the door. She was trapped.

"Hahahohohgod hahaha!" The ring of nozzles rotated around her, constantly adjusting themselves so that her face was blasted with gentle puffs of steam while the soles of her feet, her hips and her underarms all got the high-pressure treatment any time her movements left them exposed. She knew the nozzles would shut off automatically at some point, but only when the sensors had decided she was clean. Until then, she could do nothing but kick and twitch, a quivering defenceless ball of jelly.

Ten minutes later, the shower door slid open and Jessie emerged, very pink and very clean and shaking with residual laughter. It hadn't quite been the nice relaxing shower that she'd hoped for – but, she reflected, it was probably the shower she deserved. Karma had a wicked sense of humour.

She wrapped herself up in a loose dressing-gown and put an ear to the bedroom door. All was silent on the other side. She wouldn't put it past them to be plotting an ambush – but they'd told her she was exempt from any further tickling, and up to now they had at least been scrupulously honest. In any case, she wasn't any safer in the bathroom, not while the locking mechanism was disabled. She opened the door and stepped through, trying to suppress a wince as her bare soles touched the carpet.

Ringlets was leaning on the back of the sofa, evidently waiting for her. Jessie looked round quickly, but there was no sign of the others. "Don't worry," said Ringlets, coming forward. "I just stayed behind to say goodbye. And thank you."

"Oh. It's over, then?"

"We would have stayed longer, but we didn't want to fill ourselves up before the second course. You guys have been a lot of fun." The Trixie held out its hand. "Perhaps we'll meet again some day."

"I sincerely hope not," said Jessie, but she smiled and took the proffered handshake. "Is Cassie... okay?"

"Very." The Trixie grinned, then vanished into thin air.

Jessie blinked. Well, that had certainly been an experience, but there was no time for recuperation. The bridge couldn't be left unattended for much longer. She shucked off her dressing gown and dug out a fresh jumpsuit, then retrieved her comlink and delivered a shipwide announcement: "All on-duty personnel return to stations ASAP. Thank you."

Passing by the sofa, she reached down and pinched her sister's midriff. "Come on, traitor. We've got work to do."

Cassie's response was barely audible. "Yeah, okay, I... need a minute." Jessie playfully ran her fingers up her sister's spine, then headed to the bridge.

It took a while for the crewmembers to filter in. They were all in various states of dishevelment, and some of them were still visibly trembling. Jessie sat patiently in the Captain's chair, taking great pleasure in being the picture of composure. The Weapons Officer, who had seen the Trixies entering her quarters, gave her a few curious looks, but Jessie studiously ignored her.

As the bridge filled with the sound of whispered conversation, a sudden squeal came from the ranks of the technicians – one of them had poked her neighbour in the ribs. The victim fought back, trying to get hold of her assailant's legs.

"Save it for recreation, girls," said Jessie, trying not to laugh. She had a feeling life aboard the ship would be a lot more interesting from now on. "Okay, is everybody here?"

"Just coming!" The Navigation Officer scurried in and sat down in her place. Behind her came Erin, the sandy-haired Comms Officer who Jessie had last seen having her toes tweaked on a pile of beanbags. She was still dressed in her loungewear, but now she had heavy-duty work boots on her feet. She stopped at the door and hovered awkwardly.

"I think it's technically my shift," she said. "I didn't know if I should change first or..."

"No, it's fine. Let's focus on restoring order." Jessie's eyes drifted down to Erin's feet. "I see you found time to put your boots on, though. Is that... a quadruple knot? Could you have tied those laces any tighter?"

Erin's face turned red. "Well, I don't want them to come off," she mumbled.

"No, I'll bet you don't." Jessie gave her friend a wink, and gestured her to take a seat. Then she stood up and addressed the room. "Status report, please. Are all our systems back online?"

One by one, the officers replied in the affirmative. "Good," said Jessie. "Now what's the situation with that gas cloud? Or... energy cloud. Whatever."

"Erm, let's see..." The Navigation Officer scanned the screen in front of her. "It's left the ship, it's moving fast away from us due... Oh." She turned to Jessie, eyes wide. "It's heading for the Adamant."

Jessie nodded. She hadn't missed what Ringlets said about a 'second course'. "Comms," she said, "give me a channel to the Adamant."

Erin didn't move. "Why?"

"If we warn them now, they should be able to get their radiation shields up in time."

"Right. So why warn them?"

A gentle titter rippled through the bridge. Jessie kept her face straight. The same thought had occurred to her, of course. But tempting as it was to leave the boys to their fate... "We have a duty," she said. "Open a channel."

Erin sighed and clicked a few switches. A holographic image appeared in the center of the bridge, and resolved into the chiseled features of the captain of the Adamant, Deacon.

"Hey, what happened to you, sweetheart?" he said. "We've been trying to get in touch with you."

Jessie felt her teeth begin to itch. Deacon was not an easy man to work with. Even the way he sat in his chair got on her nerves – he always looked like he was posing for a photoshoot. "Our comms were temporarily offline," she said. "We had a—"

"Don't tell me," Deacon interrupted. "Someone plugged their hairdryer into the wrong socket." There was the sound of muted male laughter from the Adamant's bridge.

"No," said Jessie, tightening her lips into a thin line. "We actually—"

"What then? Your comms girl spilt her nail varnish over the controls?" The guffaws of the Adamant's crew came louder now.

"In fact—"

"Or did you all just get caught up in a giant pillow fight?"

Jessie took a deep breath, hesitated a moment – then shot Erin a significant look. Erin understood. She reached down to the control board and carefully unplugged a wire from its socket. The holographic image flickered out. "Whoops," she said. "Looks like comms are down again."

"Oh dear," said Jessie sweetly. "For how long?"

"Hard to say." Erin put her hands behind her head and leaned back comfortably. "I'll have to run a full system diagnostic. Could take hours."

"Looks like we can't warn them then," said Jessie. "What a pity. Poor boys."

"Poor boys," Erin echoed smugly, as several of the technicians broke out into unrestrained laughter.

Cassie emerged onto the bridge just in time to hear this last exchange. Her thoughts flew to her boyfriend, Matty, on the other ship. He wasn't like Deacon. He was a sweet guy. So kind, so thoughtful. So very... sensitive.

She felt the corners of her mouth twitch up into a grin. "Poor boys," she giggled softly.

THE END