Pinky and the Brain
or the Taming of the Ticklish Shrew
or the Really Nasty Things That Sadistic People Will Do To You In The Name Of Science
By Max Speer
PART I
Joe and Mary walked up the stairs of Precinct 57 and into the doors of the Police Station. They talked to the officer behind the front desk who directed them down the hall to the juvenile division. Joe looked worried and Mary continuously bit the inside of her cheek.
There, sitting on the wooden chair, one girl cracked her gum. She had raven-black hair pulled into two tight 'pig-tails' in the back of her head. She was young, too young to have been arrested. Her youth was disquised behind heavy make-up; darkened eyes and ruby red lipstick. Her thin sweater, much too large for her thin frame, hung like a rag on her; one sleeve pulled down to expose her bare shoulder, tank top strap and black bra strap.
When Pinky saw her parents coming she stopped chewing and looked away. Mary increased her gait as she went towards the girl.
"You little tramp!" she said pointing a finger. "You put your father through hell!"
Pinky looked up and over the woman's head, defiently.
"Look at me when I talk to you," the woman demanded and grabbed the girl by her thin arm, pulling her to her feet.
Pinky hardened inside. She looked into her eyes and spat her gum into the woman's face.
Tito gave me the small pipe and lit it for me. It crackled and all of a sudden the world brightened. I felt like I could fly. I didn't give a @#%$ about nobody. I dropped the pipe and all I could do was laugh. It felt so good inside me.
What are you laughing at, he said. You, I said. Don't laugh at me, he said. Because you're funny looking, I said.
Then he started to tickle me. I couldn't take it. I hate to be tickled and I tried to get away. He held onto me and wrapped his beautiful brown arms around me but his fingers dug into my sides and I freaked out.
I tried to get up and pulled away. Part of my sweater tore and I almost got away until he grabbed my ankle and I fell into a trashcan.
Be quiet, @#%$, somebody'll call the cops.
He took off my sandal and started to scratch my foot. Right on the bottom. He tickled and tickled and tickled and I screamed and rolled around, laughing and laughing.
Then I looked up and saw the dancing red moonbeams. It made me laugh. Everytime it turned around it tickled inside of me.
The @#%$ cops.
"We've gotta do something about Caroline before she really gets into trouble," Mary said to her husband as they drove to the police station. They received the call at 3 AM.
They'd only been married for a few months but his teenaged daughter was beginning to drive her crazy; staying out late every night and sometimes not coming home at all.
"She's a teenager. It's a stage," Joe said calmly, yet feeling tense inside his guts.
"I swear," Mary continued, "One day that girl is gonna try and kill us. I watch Springer. I know."
"Honey, I'll handle it," he looked at her.
"You haven't been able to handle her since the day she was born. I'll handle her."
Joe looked at his new bride. She was a real beauty with shoulder-length blonde hair. Her 35 year old body was as gorgeous as a woman 10 years younger. Her face had gotten prettier with every passing year.
Joe first met her a decade before when she began working for him in his law office as a legal secretary.
He looked down at her nipples which peaked through the thin fabric of her cotton sundress. She nervously tapped her foot on the floor of the car and Jow looked down to see her shiny burgandy-painted toenails revealed by her open-toed shoes.
"Officer, we just don't know what to do with her anymore. She's out of control," Joe said to the policeman who was finishing up the paperwork.
"I see girls like Pinky all the time," the heavyset man said, entering in additional information on the computer.
"Her name is Caroline, not Pinky," Mary barked.
Joe smiled and interrupted, explaining that it was a name that his daughter picked because she claimed to hate the name Caroline.
"It's her name. She has to deal with that. It's time she grew up," Mary insisted.
The officer stopped for a moment and looked at the two. Then he looked over his shoulder at the young daughter slouching and scowling in her seat, blowing large pink bubbles.
"I do have a possible solution for you folks," the officer said scratching his forehead nervously. "It's not for everyone, but it may be good for your daughter."
"What is it, Officer? We'll try anything. We're desperate," Joe said quietly.
"Let me give you the number of this place a few miles out of town, up on Route 33. They sometimes work for real problem children like your Pink...uh...Caroline."
The officer scribbled a phone number down on the release form and handed it to Joe. Mary snatched it quickly and read it.
What is this fuckin' place?
The car moved down the long, flower-lined driveway. As it neared the entrance, Pinky spotted a very pretty woman in a yellow sundress walking up the steps. She wore a bonnet.
Where the hell is she going? The @#%$ Easter Parade?
My dad used to be so cool when Mom was around. Since he married that @#%$ I can't take him. Mary and Joe. Mary and Joseph, the @#%$ holy family. Couldn't give birth to baby Jesus so they adopted the Devil's Daughter.
I'm, like, so @#%$ out of this place as soon as they leave me here.
The car pulled into the visitor's parking space and the three got out. Joe and Mary were conservatively dressed (Mary looked downright sexy in her business suit, which consisted of a much-too-short sleeveless dress with a thin jacket covering it). Pinky was dolled up like a Gothic ragdoll. Her eyes were painted dark and her lipstick was black. Her hair was held up in a disarray of pig-tails. Despite her make-up, the young girl's face was angelic and beautiful. As she walked in front of her parents, Mary noted the affected sexy shifting of Pinky's hips, accentuated by her very short, black miniskirt and tight, belly-baring tanktop.
"Well," said a handsome, white-haired man who smiled down at the young girl. "this must be Pinky. How are you?" He extended his hand and she looked up at him as if to say, 'Who the @#%$ are you?'. He cleared his throat and graceful put his hand down to his side, then reached up to shake the hands of Joe and Mary. "So glad you could make it."
"We're so glad you had a room available for Pinky," Joe said.
"Caroline," Mary insisted. "Her name is Caroline."
"Well, no need for formalities here," the man said. "I'm Doctor Wood."
"Oh," Pinky giggled. "Woody Woodpecker."
The room was small but comfortable. There was a glass of juice sitting on a table.
"When am I gonna eat?" she barked.
Her parents had left her with the Doctor and a 300 pound blonde-haired woman named Meg. Meg had a jolly round face, very pretty for a woman of 62 years. Pinky thought she was the maid because of how she was dressed but she was corrected by Meg who told her that she would assist the Doctor and care for Pinky.
"No lunch today Just juice," said Meg.
"So is that the therapy?" Pinky said snottishly. "You're gonna starve me?"
"Not at all," Meg said with a sly smile. "You'll eat later."
Pinky drank the juice and laid on the bed. She put her headphones on and blasted her CD.
"No shoes on the bed," Meg said and she untied Pinky's black, bulky Doc Marten's and laid them on the floor.
She noted that Pinky wasn't wearing socks and that her pink feet were slightly moist. She could actually feel the heat from them and they emitted a slight sweet, musky odor.
The woman reached a single finger and barely touched the soft sole of young Pinky, startled slightly by the reaction.
Pinky pulled her foot back quickly and sat up, throwing her headphones onto the bed.
"Don't touch my feet!" she commanded as she pointed her finger towards the woman.
"Why not?"
"Just don't touch my @#%$ feet!"
"Would you consider your daughter a very ticklish girl?" Dr. Wood asked Joe while Mary listened.
"Ticklish?" Mary said suddenly.
"Well, I used to try and tickle Pinky quite alot when she was younger but she could never really take it. I would say she was very ticklish."
"I know her no-good boyfriend tickles her," Mary said in disgust. "He even tickled me once. I was lying on the couch trying to sleep. They had just come down the stairs, doing who knows in her bedroom. They were going out. I opened my eyes and I was just about to ask Pinky when she was going to come home when that creep knelt down and started to tickle my foot."
Dr. Wood leaned forward. "Her boyfriend tickled your foot without provocation?"
"Yes he did," Mary continued. "Actually grabbed my ankle and started to scratch the bottom of my foot. I was afraid he was going to tear my new stockings."
"Are you very ticklish, if I might ask?" the doctor said, smiling.
"I don't think that's any of your business," mary barked.
"She's VERY ticklish," Joe said with a wink.
It was midday but Pinky didn't notice.
All she knew is that she was very warm and comfortable. She was lying on a soft table but couldn't move; couldn't feel her body. She was floating somewhere inside of her body.
The bewildered girl looked at herself and thought she perceived her body completely nude. It was an objective observation since she had absolutely no subjective opinion of it.
She thought she saw other figures in the room and could almost sense that her arms were up over her head. Another strange feeling was that one or more people were touching her pubic area, but with no real sensation.
Pinky strained to see but her vision was blurry. She also perceived figures down by her bare feet.
Pinky awoke later that night with a tingling sensation all over her feet, arms, and torso. It was a slight burning sensation, strange, but not too uncomfortable.
She also realized she was wearing a robe that she had never seen before.
Rising out of bed, Pinky turned on a lamp and her eyes were sensitive. She had to pee and went into the bathroom. There was a full-length mirror in there and she removed her robe. Then her stomach exploded with butterflies.
Mouth agape, she looked at her naked body. There was not a single hair on it. She slowly reached down and touched her pubic area and felt nothing but smooth skin. Then she raised her arms and gasped again. The hair that she was so proud of was gone. She touched it and it was as smooth as a baby's skin.
A mixture of fear and anger enveloped her. She began to talk to herself as she sat on the toilet. Her feet brushed the bathroom's carpet and they felt a slight jolt of electricity. The bottoms of her feet were very sensitive and she held her left foot in her hands and inspected the soles. They were extremely smooth. Every trace of callous had been removed. Her feet were the same as it was when she was a young girl. She touched the smooth wrinkled skin and a jolt of tickling caused her to rub the very spot she touched with the palm of her hand.
How could they do this to me?
Pinky pulled her tiny tanktop over her head ignoring the black bra that laid neatly next to it. Then she pulled on her plaid skirt, ignoring the panties. She opened the door and walked, barefoot down the hall. The tiled floor felt cold against her new soles.
There was no one in the hallway as she approached one door. It was locked but she noticed some water on the floor under her feet and green seaweed-like plants.
"Gross!"
She put her hand against the wall and wiped it off of her feet. The sensation of wiping tickled her. Then she noticed there was trail of this strange plant that went down the hall and stopped at a window.
Looks like Swamp Thing jumped out of the window!
She tried the window sash but realized that it was steel reinforced and there was a barely detectable alarm wire criss-crossing through the glass.
Guess he disappeared into thin air.
The frightened girl wandered down the long hallway, testing locked doors as she walked. Then she looked up and noticed a small video camera mounted on the ceiling. She lifted her arms and waved them wildly into the cameras.
"Hey you fuckers! What did you do to me? Help! Help!"
She's a perfect candidate.
Absolutely a menace.
But more importantly...utterly ticklish.
Pinky woke up the next morning. She had curled up on the floor and slept tightly against the wall. She had put her mattress between her and the door, creating a little lean-to. In actuality, she was protecting herself against being drugged and moved in her sleep. The girl had set a a make-shift alarm system with various items in the room, positioned to drop onto the floor if her mattress was moved.
There was a knock on the door and, before she had a chance to speak, Meg walked in holding a bag.
"What did you psychos do to me?" Pinky yelled at Meg, spitting venom from her tongue.
"It was just a precaution."
"Against WHAT?"
"You have been known to spend long hours in alleys and dirty, filthy places. We took the neccesary precautions against lice, ticks." Meg dropped the bag on the box spring of the bed.
"What did you do here?" Meg asked, amazed.
"You @#%$ should know. You have cameras all over the damned place."
Meg walked up to the girl. They were both standing in the middle of the room. Pinky held her ground. Meg was not pleased.
"Listen here now, Young Miss," Meg pointed a finger at her face. "You will address ME with re-spect! I don't care how you talk to your parents and friends, but while you're in my place you will talk to me properly or I will kick your @#%$ ass so fast and hard you'll wish you'd have gone to jail."
Pinky stood her footing but began to feel weak in the knees. She gulped.
"Am I clear?" Meg asked through gritted teeth.
"Yes," Pinky said and overted her gaze. She looked down at the bag. "What's this?"
"Open it."
Pinky opened the bag and saw clothing. "Oh cool. New clo..." She stopped suddenly when she saw what was in there. "What the fu...?"
"Put it on."
"I'm not putting this goofy thing on."
"Put...it...on!" And Meg turned and left quickly.
The bag had clothing alright but nothing she would have ever thought to wear. There was a red and black plaid skirt, like the kind Catholic Schoolgirls wear, and a white, cotton, midriff, peasant top with little puffed sleeves. There were also thin, white cotton knee socks and a pair of black and white oxfords.
There is no way I'm putting this @#%$ @#%$ on.
But Pinky did put it on and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked like a little junior high school girl. It sickened her.
There was a sound and Pinky heard the door open. Meg walked in and smiled.
"Good", she said. "But there's just one last thing."
She opened her hand and there were two small clips for her hair, shaped like tiny, pink bows.
"Put your hair in pigtails and use these."
"What is this for? Why am I wearing this costume?"
"This is what good girls wear," Meg said with assuredness. "Bad girls wear what you came in with. You need to get used to this."
"I'll never get used to this."
"Then you'll never leave here."
The room they walked into was like a lecture hall one would see in a medical college. There was a circular arrangement of chairs and, in the middle was a padded table. Several men in white, lab coats stood around this table.
"Ah, Pinky. Good to see you. And you look so lovely," one of the men said smiling, hand in the pockets of his lab coat.
"I feel like a dork," she said walking towards him.
"I imagine so," another remarked, "Probably because you have been misguided for so many years. We are here to show you how you should act and dress; like a young lady."
Pinky sneered and began to curse at them but stopped herself.
"Get on the table," Meg commanded.
Pinky walked up to the table and hopped on.
"Lay down."
"Lay down?" she said as if Meg had just asked her to take off all of her clothes.
"What didn't you understand?" Meg said walking to her in a threatening gesture.
Pinky laid down on the table.
A few of the men watched the sexy young girl lay down on her back, dressed in her cute outfit and licked their lips.
Meg walked to her and with speed and skill managed to attached a strap firmly around her ankles.
"What the fu...?" Pinky barked sitting up suddenly.
"Get your little, snotty-girl ass back down before I make you lie down!" Meg said fiercely.
Pinky reluctantly laid back down and Meg walked around to the front. She grabbed Pinky's thin wrists and pulled them over her head. Pinky squirmed and looked up, trying to see what was happening above her head. Two white-jacketed men attached similar straps to her wrists, not quite as efficiently and quickly as Meg did, yet effectively in the long run.
Pinky was competely bound by the wrists and ankles to this padded table. Though she was dressed, the act of stretching that particular way made Pinky feel vulnerable. Her small top which already came down just above her belly button had pulled up over her rib cage exposing a lot of smooth belly skin. The tiny, puffed sleeves of this top was unable to cover her underarms which were now exposed. This exposure made Pinky feel very nervous. She didn't like this at all, but before she could begin a string of protests she heard Dr. Wood begin to speak.
"We now move onto Phase Three of our treatment. Phase one consisted of removing every trace of hair from the subject's body to expose the maximum amount of skin and offer no resistance to stimuli. Phase Two consisted of making the subject wear clothing that she would not normally wear. So much of female adolescent identity revolves around fashion and young girls learn to live their lives through their choice of clothing.
"Now comes Phase Three," Dr. Wood spoke as he walked next to Pinky's head. The girl strained to see and began to grow very nervous, completely unaware of what she was about to be subject to. The doctor continued.
"The breaking down of aggression through Vellication."
Vellication? What the @#%$ is Vellication?
"You will note that Pinky here is a wonderful example for this kind of therapy." With those words, the doctor took a pencil out of his breast pocket and held the point. Then, he lowered the rubber eraser down and touched the center of Pinky's smooth, exposed underarm.
Pinky shuttered and screamed involuntarily. She felt as if she had just been electrocuted.
The doctors began to murmur and nod their heads.
"Stop it. Don't touch me," Pinky began to protest.
"Why?" the doctor said to her, "Are you ticklish?"
"Yes," Pinky shouted so don't even think abou..."
She was suddenly cut off as the doctor began to trace his eraser in a straight line down the middle of her armpit. The little top she was wearing offered no resistance since it had exposed that area perfectly. The doctor lifted the pencil and repeated the straight line, drawing it, once again, down the middle of her highly sensitive underarm.
Pinky 's armpit was extremly ticklish and she began to laugh in spite of herself.
This is cruel. Cruel!
Dr. Wood signaled another doctor with his head and the doctor approached the girl. He reached out his hand and began to tickle Pinky's other armpit with a flurry of light touches.
The girl tugged desperately at her wrist restraints and her back arched as much as possible. She strained not to laugh but it only took a few seconds of this tickling under her arms to cause her to erupt in a flow of laughter. It tickled. It tickled horribly and there was no chance for release. Pinky was frantic. She couldn't bring her arms down like she had always done when her friends would tickle her. She was helpless for the first time in her life.
"Please stop it!!!" Pinky was able to cough out between hysterical squealing. The doctors were impressed. they had never seen a subject as ticklish as her. Dr. Wood began to tickle her other armpit with a quick wriggling of his fingers. The galloping of fingertips on the surface of her ticklish armpit was accentuated by the fact that all the hair had been removed. What was left was nothing but soft, highly ticklish bare skin.
"Most girls her age are markedly ticklish on their armpits," Dr. Wood said as he lifted his fingers off of her underarm and instructed the other doctor to do the same with a gesture. Then he pointed at the armpit as he explained, but his finger accidently touched the sensitive skin and Pinky began laughing and begging him again.
"Please don't tickle. Please don't tickle," she begged. "Anywhere but THERE. Don't tickle me there."
Dr. Wood's helper began to feel an erection emerging and he closed his eyes and tried to 'think it back down'. He was surprised that the act of tickling this helpless girl sexually stimulated him. Then he remembered that just the feel of her smooth, hairless underarm was extremely arousing.
"This is craziness," he thought to himself.
"We will continue there in a moment," the doctor continued. He nodded to Meg who walked to Pinky's feet and untied her shoes.
"Oh no," Pinky said as she watched. Then, she plopped back down in surrender. She began to breath heavily.
"Notice the hyperventilation during the anticipatory stage," Dr. Wood said.
"Please don't tickle my feet."
The doctor continued as if Pinky wasn't even talking. "We had removed the callous from her feet and several epidermal layers to thin the skin as much as possible for the response."
Meg got both of her shoes off and peeled down her cotton socks. The air felt cool to the helpless girl and she tried to wiggle her toes but was only able to accomplish some wiggling. the restraints were very effective.
The doctor motioned for two more assistants to walk up to Pinky's feet.
"Careful now," Dr. Wood cautioned. "Her feet are very sensitive."
The doctors were not experts but they knew that a touch from their fingertips on the extremely soft, sensitive surfaces of Pinky's wrinkled soles would cause a reaction.
The reached down and lightly touched Pinky's warm soles.
Instantly Pinky arched her back and threw her head back, closing her eyes. Other doctors took notes as the young girl began to squeal in hysterical laughter.
"Wait wait wait!!!!!" Pinky was able to pull out between laighter. Not my feet. Not my feeeheeheeheeheeheeheeheet!!!"
She was unable to stop the maddenly touch, a sensation like electrical steel, the feet tickling was absolutely torture for the girl. The doctors continued to tickle Pinky's feet, unconsciously smiling as they did. Who could help it? Tickling the feet, or any spot on a girl's body makes even the novice tickler smile at the laughing reaction. One doctor used just a forefinger and tickled her, finding it hard to abstain from saying 'kootchie kootchie koo' as his single finger tickled her into hysterics. He thought of all those Popeye cartoons he had seen as a kid where Popeye tickled the bottom of Olive Oyl's bare feet with a single finger.
(To be Continued)"So soft," one of the doctors spat out without warning. He was in a state of ecstacy. The other doctors glared at him. "I mean, it...uh...only as an observational statement of the plantar region of her lower extremity," he said straightening up his slouching stance.
Pink was shaking her head back and forth as her little pigtails whipped back and forth. Her long toes strained to claw forthward and cover up her horribly ticklish soles.
The Doctors' fingers tickled up the surface of her smooth, bare feet and clawed at the stems of her toes causing Pinky to squeal.
"Pleeehee hee hee heease! Stop tickling mee hee hee hee hee! I can't take it! I can't take it! Fucccccck!"
Doctor Wood lifted a hand for his partner to stop. He glared down at Pinky.
"See that, Young Lady? That is exactly what we are trying to put an end to; that abusive language. Now, we are going to have to tickle the curse words out of you."
"Nooooo," Pinky yelled in desperation. "I'll be good. I'll be good. Don't tickle me. Don't tickle me. Don't tickle me!"
Meg walked up to her side and reached her massive hands into two claws. Then she grabbed the bare midriff of poor Pinky and began tickling her sides. The girl screamed and for a moment, no laughter came out. Nothing came out. All that was seen was the grimace and the eyes squeezed shut. It appeared as if the sound was turned off suddenly, then, just as quickly, the sounds of hysterical squealing came forth. Meg tickled up and down the thin girl's ribs like she was playing the piano. Her hands came together atop Pinky's bare belly and she began to gallop her fingertips over the smooth skin of Pinky's belly, concentrating on the belly button.
Through her hysterics, she realized that her belly button piercing was gone. The little dangling jewelry with the laughing skull had been removed. Her belly and ribs were so ticklish that she feared that she would faint. She needed to get away and she felt such intense fear that the tickling was accentuated.
Dr. Wood signalled for his assitant to continue tickling her foot only more slowly. He also directed Meg's tickling to ligted up to a soft tickling touch. Pinky was busy catching her breath but the laughter was still there, although not as despeate.
Dr. Wood looked down at the girl. He was at her head and Pinky saw his twisted, upside-down face glaring down through his glasses.
"Are you being to learn, my Girl?"
"YES!" she shouted through giggles. He looked up and signalled the tickling to cease. Then he reach ed his finger down to her exposed underarm again. Pinky began to whimper and giggle at the same time.
"No, Please," she pleaded. "I beg you. I'm sorry. I'll be good. Not under my arm. Please. I can't take it there."
The Doctor looked at her underarm as she said that. It was smooth and stretched. He had seen many armpits in his day and sometimes pondered why the tickle reaction was so strong there. He understood about the feet, since they needed to be extremely sensitive so as not to introduce any foreign objects through walking. Then, he reached his finger down to touch the smooth surface and Pinky began to giggle again desperately pulling at her arm to get it loose.
"Hmmm, fascinating," was all he could mutter. Then he snapped out of his scientific wonderment and addressed the group.
"And so it goes..." he began. Pinky was thankful that it was all over. "The end of this Phase. But the fear of tickling will always be present as Pinky continues her stay here."
***
Continues my stay?
***
"Let her loose for now. We will continue her therapy later."
Pinky didn't like the sound of that last statement as she was realeased and sat up on the padded table. He hair was loose from one pigtail. Her puffed sleeves were pulled over her shoulder. She pulled them down to cover her vulnerably tickle spots. Her shirtails were coming out and her bare kees were shaking.
Pinky didn't like the sound of the Doctor's last statement. She didn't like it one bit.
or the Taming of the Ticklish Shrew
or the Really Nasty Things That Sadistic People Will Do To You In The Name Of Science
By Max Speer
PART I
Joe and Mary walked up the stairs of Precinct 57 and into the doors of the Police Station. They talked to the officer behind the front desk who directed them down the hall to the juvenile division. Joe looked worried and Mary continuously bit the inside of her cheek.
There, sitting on the wooden chair, one girl cracked her gum. She had raven-black hair pulled into two tight 'pig-tails' in the back of her head. She was young, too young to have been arrested. Her youth was disquised behind heavy make-up; darkened eyes and ruby red lipstick. Her thin sweater, much too large for her thin frame, hung like a rag on her; one sleeve pulled down to expose her bare shoulder, tank top strap and black bra strap.
When Pinky saw her parents coming she stopped chewing and looked away. Mary increased her gait as she went towards the girl.
"You little tramp!" she said pointing a finger. "You put your father through hell!"
Pinky looked up and over the woman's head, defiently.
"Look at me when I talk to you," the woman demanded and grabbed the girl by her thin arm, pulling her to her feet.
Pinky hardened inside. She looked into her eyes and spat her gum into the woman's face.
Tito gave me the small pipe and lit it for me. It crackled and all of a sudden the world brightened. I felt like I could fly. I didn't give a @#%$ about nobody. I dropped the pipe and all I could do was laugh. It felt so good inside me.
What are you laughing at, he said. You, I said. Don't laugh at me, he said. Because you're funny looking, I said.
Then he started to tickle me. I couldn't take it. I hate to be tickled and I tried to get away. He held onto me and wrapped his beautiful brown arms around me but his fingers dug into my sides and I freaked out.
I tried to get up and pulled away. Part of my sweater tore and I almost got away until he grabbed my ankle and I fell into a trashcan.
Be quiet, @#%$, somebody'll call the cops.
He took off my sandal and started to scratch my foot. Right on the bottom. He tickled and tickled and tickled and I screamed and rolled around, laughing and laughing.
Then I looked up and saw the dancing red moonbeams. It made me laugh. Everytime it turned around it tickled inside of me.
The @#%$ cops.
"We've gotta do something about Caroline before she really gets into trouble," Mary said to her husband as they drove to the police station. They received the call at 3 AM.
They'd only been married for a few months but his teenaged daughter was beginning to drive her crazy; staying out late every night and sometimes not coming home at all.
"She's a teenager. It's a stage," Joe said calmly, yet feeling tense inside his guts.
"I swear," Mary continued, "One day that girl is gonna try and kill us. I watch Springer. I know."
"Honey, I'll handle it," he looked at her.
"You haven't been able to handle her since the day she was born. I'll handle her."
Joe looked at his new bride. She was a real beauty with shoulder-length blonde hair. Her 35 year old body was as gorgeous as a woman 10 years younger. Her face had gotten prettier with every passing year.
Joe first met her a decade before when she began working for him in his law office as a legal secretary.
He looked down at her nipples which peaked through the thin fabric of her cotton sundress. She nervously tapped her foot on the floor of the car and Jow looked down to see her shiny burgandy-painted toenails revealed by her open-toed shoes.
"Officer, we just don't know what to do with her anymore. She's out of control," Joe said to the policeman who was finishing up the paperwork.
"I see girls like Pinky all the time," the heavyset man said, entering in additional information on the computer.
"Her name is Caroline, not Pinky," Mary barked.
Joe smiled and interrupted, explaining that it was a name that his daughter picked because she claimed to hate the name Caroline.
"It's her name. She has to deal with that. It's time she grew up," Mary insisted.
The officer stopped for a moment and looked at the two. Then he looked over his shoulder at the young daughter slouching and scowling in her seat, blowing large pink bubbles.
"I do have a possible solution for you folks," the officer said scratching his forehead nervously. "It's not for everyone, but it may be good for your daughter."
"What is it, Officer? We'll try anything. We're desperate," Joe said quietly.
"Let me give you the number of this place a few miles out of town, up on Route 33. They sometimes work for real problem children like your Pink...uh...Caroline."
The officer scribbled a phone number down on the release form and handed it to Joe. Mary snatched it quickly and read it.
What is this fuckin' place?
The car moved down the long, flower-lined driveway. As it neared the entrance, Pinky spotted a very pretty woman in a yellow sundress walking up the steps. She wore a bonnet.
Where the hell is she going? The @#%$ Easter Parade?
My dad used to be so cool when Mom was around. Since he married that @#%$ I can't take him. Mary and Joe. Mary and Joseph, the @#%$ holy family. Couldn't give birth to baby Jesus so they adopted the Devil's Daughter.
I'm, like, so @#%$ out of this place as soon as they leave me here.
The car pulled into the visitor's parking space and the three got out. Joe and Mary were conservatively dressed (Mary looked downright sexy in her business suit, which consisted of a much-too-short sleeveless dress with a thin jacket covering it). Pinky was dolled up like a Gothic ragdoll. Her eyes were painted dark and her lipstick was black. Her hair was held up in a disarray of pig-tails. Despite her make-up, the young girl's face was angelic and beautiful. As she walked in front of her parents, Mary noted the affected sexy shifting of Pinky's hips, accentuated by her very short, black miniskirt and tight, belly-baring tanktop.
"Well," said a handsome, white-haired man who smiled down at the young girl. "this must be Pinky. How are you?" He extended his hand and she looked up at him as if to say, 'Who the @#%$ are you?'. He cleared his throat and graceful put his hand down to his side, then reached up to shake the hands of Joe and Mary. "So glad you could make it."
"We're so glad you had a room available for Pinky," Joe said.
"Caroline," Mary insisted. "Her name is Caroline."
"Well, no need for formalities here," the man said. "I'm Doctor Wood."
"Oh," Pinky giggled. "Woody Woodpecker."
The room was small but comfortable. There was a glass of juice sitting on a table.
"When am I gonna eat?" she barked.
Her parents had left her with the Doctor and a 300 pound blonde-haired woman named Meg. Meg had a jolly round face, very pretty for a woman of 62 years. Pinky thought she was the maid because of how she was dressed but she was corrected by Meg who told her that she would assist the Doctor and care for Pinky.
"No lunch today Just juice," said Meg.
"So is that the therapy?" Pinky said snottishly. "You're gonna starve me?"
"Not at all," Meg said with a sly smile. "You'll eat later."
Pinky drank the juice and laid on the bed. She put her headphones on and blasted her CD.
"No shoes on the bed," Meg said and she untied Pinky's black, bulky Doc Marten's and laid them on the floor.
She noted that Pinky wasn't wearing socks and that her pink feet were slightly moist. She could actually feel the heat from them and they emitted a slight sweet, musky odor.
The woman reached a single finger and barely touched the soft sole of young Pinky, startled slightly by the reaction.
Pinky pulled her foot back quickly and sat up, throwing her headphones onto the bed.
"Don't touch my feet!" she commanded as she pointed her finger towards the woman.
"Why not?"
"Just don't touch my @#%$ feet!"
"Would you consider your daughter a very ticklish girl?" Dr. Wood asked Joe while Mary listened.
"Ticklish?" Mary said suddenly.
"Well, I used to try and tickle Pinky quite alot when she was younger but she could never really take it. I would say she was very ticklish."
"I know her no-good boyfriend tickles her," Mary said in disgust. "He even tickled me once. I was lying on the couch trying to sleep. They had just come down the stairs, doing who knows in her bedroom. They were going out. I opened my eyes and I was just about to ask Pinky when she was going to come home when that creep knelt down and started to tickle my foot."
Dr. Wood leaned forward. "Her boyfriend tickled your foot without provocation?"
"Yes he did," Mary continued. "Actually grabbed my ankle and started to scratch the bottom of my foot. I was afraid he was going to tear my new stockings."
"Are you very ticklish, if I might ask?" the doctor said, smiling.
"I don't think that's any of your business," mary barked.
"She's VERY ticklish," Joe said with a wink.
It was midday but Pinky didn't notice.
All she knew is that she was very warm and comfortable. She was lying on a soft table but couldn't move; couldn't feel her body. She was floating somewhere inside of her body.
The bewildered girl looked at herself and thought she perceived her body completely nude. It was an objective observation since she had absolutely no subjective opinion of it.
She thought she saw other figures in the room and could almost sense that her arms were up over her head. Another strange feeling was that one or more people were touching her pubic area, but with no real sensation.
Pinky strained to see but her vision was blurry. She also perceived figures down by her bare feet.
Pinky awoke later that night with a tingling sensation all over her feet, arms, and torso. It was a slight burning sensation, strange, but not too uncomfortable.
She also realized she was wearing a robe that she had never seen before.
Rising out of bed, Pinky turned on a lamp and her eyes were sensitive. She had to pee and went into the bathroom. There was a full-length mirror in there and she removed her robe. Then her stomach exploded with butterflies.
Mouth agape, she looked at her naked body. There was not a single hair on it. She slowly reached down and touched her pubic area and felt nothing but smooth skin. Then she raised her arms and gasped again. The hair that she was so proud of was gone. She touched it and it was as smooth as a baby's skin.
A mixture of fear and anger enveloped her. She began to talk to herself as she sat on the toilet. Her feet brushed the bathroom's carpet and they felt a slight jolt of electricity. The bottoms of her feet were very sensitive and she held her left foot in her hands and inspected the soles. They were extremely smooth. Every trace of callous had been removed. Her feet were the same as it was when she was a young girl. She touched the smooth wrinkled skin and a jolt of tickling caused her to rub the very spot she touched with the palm of her hand.
How could they do this to me?
Pinky pulled her tiny tanktop over her head ignoring the black bra that laid neatly next to it. Then she pulled on her plaid skirt, ignoring the panties. She opened the door and walked, barefoot down the hall. The tiled floor felt cold against her new soles.
There was no one in the hallway as she approached one door. It was locked but she noticed some water on the floor under her feet and green seaweed-like plants.
"Gross!"
She put her hand against the wall and wiped it off of her feet. The sensation of wiping tickled her. Then she noticed there was trail of this strange plant that went down the hall and stopped at a window.
Looks like Swamp Thing jumped out of the window!
She tried the window sash but realized that it was steel reinforced and there was a barely detectable alarm wire criss-crossing through the glass.
Guess he disappeared into thin air.
The frightened girl wandered down the long hallway, testing locked doors as she walked. Then she looked up and noticed a small video camera mounted on the ceiling. She lifted her arms and waved them wildly into the cameras.
"Hey you fuckers! What did you do to me? Help! Help!"
She's a perfect candidate.
Absolutely a menace.
But more importantly...utterly ticklish.
Pinky woke up the next morning. She had curled up on the floor and slept tightly against the wall. She had put her mattress between her and the door, creating a little lean-to. In actuality, she was protecting herself against being drugged and moved in her sleep. The girl had set a a make-shift alarm system with various items in the room, positioned to drop onto the floor if her mattress was moved.
There was a knock on the door and, before she had a chance to speak, Meg walked in holding a bag.
"What did you psychos do to me?" Pinky yelled at Meg, spitting venom from her tongue.
"It was just a precaution."
"Against WHAT?"
"You have been known to spend long hours in alleys and dirty, filthy places. We took the neccesary precautions against lice, ticks." Meg dropped the bag on the box spring of the bed.
"What did you do here?" Meg asked, amazed.
"You @#%$ should know. You have cameras all over the damned place."
Meg walked up to the girl. They were both standing in the middle of the room. Pinky held her ground. Meg was not pleased.
"Listen here now, Young Miss," Meg pointed a finger at her face. "You will address ME with re-spect! I don't care how you talk to your parents and friends, but while you're in my place you will talk to me properly or I will kick your @#%$ ass so fast and hard you'll wish you'd have gone to jail."
Pinky stood her footing but began to feel weak in the knees. She gulped.
"Am I clear?" Meg asked through gritted teeth.
"Yes," Pinky said and overted her gaze. She looked down at the bag. "What's this?"
"Open it."
Pinky opened the bag and saw clothing. "Oh cool. New clo..." She stopped suddenly when she saw what was in there. "What the fu...?"
"Put it on."
"I'm not putting this goofy thing on."
"Put...it...on!" And Meg turned and left quickly.
The bag had clothing alright but nothing she would have ever thought to wear. There was a red and black plaid skirt, like the kind Catholic Schoolgirls wear, and a white, cotton, midriff, peasant top with little puffed sleeves. There were also thin, white cotton knee socks and a pair of black and white oxfords.
There is no way I'm putting this @#%$ @#%$ on.
But Pinky did put it on and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked like a little junior high school girl. It sickened her.
There was a sound and Pinky heard the door open. Meg walked in and smiled.
"Good", she said. "But there's just one last thing."
She opened her hand and there were two small clips for her hair, shaped like tiny, pink bows.
"Put your hair in pigtails and use these."
"What is this for? Why am I wearing this costume?"
"This is what good girls wear," Meg said with assuredness. "Bad girls wear what you came in with. You need to get used to this."
"I'll never get used to this."
"Then you'll never leave here."
The room they walked into was like a lecture hall one would see in a medical college. There was a circular arrangement of chairs and, in the middle was a padded table. Several men in white, lab coats stood around this table.
"Ah, Pinky. Good to see you. And you look so lovely," one of the men said smiling, hand in the pockets of his lab coat.
"I feel like a dork," she said walking towards him.
"I imagine so," another remarked, "Probably because you have been misguided for so many years. We are here to show you how you should act and dress; like a young lady."
Pinky sneered and began to curse at them but stopped herself.
"Get on the table," Meg commanded.
Pinky walked up to the table and hopped on.
"Lay down."
"Lay down?" she said as if Meg had just asked her to take off all of her clothes.
"What didn't you understand?" Meg said walking to her in a threatening gesture.
Pinky laid down on the table.
A few of the men watched the sexy young girl lay down on her back, dressed in her cute outfit and licked their lips.
Meg walked to her and with speed and skill managed to attached a strap firmly around her ankles.
"What the fu...?" Pinky barked sitting up suddenly.
"Get your little, snotty-girl ass back down before I make you lie down!" Meg said fiercely.
Pinky reluctantly laid back down and Meg walked around to the front. She grabbed Pinky's thin wrists and pulled them over her head. Pinky squirmed and looked up, trying to see what was happening above her head. Two white-jacketed men attached similar straps to her wrists, not quite as efficiently and quickly as Meg did, yet effectively in the long run.
Pinky was competely bound by the wrists and ankles to this padded table. Though she was dressed, the act of stretching that particular way made Pinky feel vulnerable. Her small top which already came down just above her belly button had pulled up over her rib cage exposing a lot of smooth belly skin. The tiny, puffed sleeves of this top was unable to cover her underarms which were now exposed. This exposure made Pinky feel very nervous. She didn't like this at all, but before she could begin a string of protests she heard Dr. Wood begin to speak.
"We now move onto Phase Three of our treatment. Phase one consisted of removing every trace of hair from the subject's body to expose the maximum amount of skin and offer no resistance to stimuli. Phase Two consisted of making the subject wear clothing that she would not normally wear. So much of female adolescent identity revolves around fashion and young girls learn to live their lives through their choice of clothing.
"Now comes Phase Three," Dr. Wood spoke as he walked next to Pinky's head. The girl strained to see and began to grow very nervous, completely unaware of what she was about to be subject to. The doctor continued.
"The breaking down of aggression through Vellication."
Vellication? What the @#%$ is Vellication?
"You will note that Pinky here is a wonderful example for this kind of therapy." With those words, the doctor took a pencil out of his breast pocket and held the point. Then, he lowered the rubber eraser down and touched the center of Pinky's smooth, exposed underarm.
Pinky shuttered and screamed involuntarily. She felt as if she had just been electrocuted.
The doctors began to murmur and nod their heads.
"Stop it. Don't touch me," Pinky began to protest.
"Why?" the doctor said to her, "Are you ticklish?"
"Yes," Pinky shouted so don't even think abou..."
She was suddenly cut off as the doctor began to trace his eraser in a straight line down the middle of her armpit. The little top she was wearing offered no resistance since it had exposed that area perfectly. The doctor lifted the pencil and repeated the straight line, drawing it, once again, down the middle of her highly sensitive underarm.
Pinky 's armpit was extremly ticklish and she began to laugh in spite of herself.
This is cruel. Cruel!
Dr. Wood signaled another doctor with his head and the doctor approached the girl. He reached out his hand and began to tickle Pinky's other armpit with a flurry of light touches.
The girl tugged desperately at her wrist restraints and her back arched as much as possible. She strained not to laugh but it only took a few seconds of this tickling under her arms to cause her to erupt in a flow of laughter. It tickled. It tickled horribly and there was no chance for release. Pinky was frantic. She couldn't bring her arms down like she had always done when her friends would tickle her. She was helpless for the first time in her life.
"Please stop it!!!" Pinky was able to cough out between hysterical squealing. The doctors were impressed. they had never seen a subject as ticklish as her. Dr. Wood began to tickle her other armpit with a quick wriggling of his fingers. The galloping of fingertips on the surface of her ticklish armpit was accentuated by the fact that all the hair had been removed. What was left was nothing but soft, highly ticklish bare skin.
"Most girls her age are markedly ticklish on their armpits," Dr. Wood said as he lifted his fingers off of her underarm and instructed the other doctor to do the same with a gesture. Then he pointed at the armpit as he explained, but his finger accidently touched the sensitive skin and Pinky began laughing and begging him again.
"Please don't tickle. Please don't tickle," she begged. "Anywhere but THERE. Don't tickle me there."
Dr. Wood's helper began to feel an erection emerging and he closed his eyes and tried to 'think it back down'. He was surprised that the act of tickling this helpless girl sexually stimulated him. Then he remembered that just the feel of her smooth, hairless underarm was extremely arousing.
"This is craziness," he thought to himself.
"We will continue there in a moment," the doctor continued. He nodded to Meg who walked to Pinky's feet and untied her shoes.
"Oh no," Pinky said as she watched. Then, she plopped back down in surrender. She began to breath heavily.
"Notice the hyperventilation during the anticipatory stage," Dr. Wood said.
"Please don't tickle my feet."
The doctor continued as if Pinky wasn't even talking. "We had removed the callous from her feet and several epidermal layers to thin the skin as much as possible for the response."
Meg got both of her shoes off and peeled down her cotton socks. The air felt cool to the helpless girl and she tried to wiggle her toes but was only able to accomplish some wiggling. the restraints were very effective.
The doctor motioned for two more assistants to walk up to Pinky's feet.
"Careful now," Dr. Wood cautioned. "Her feet are very sensitive."
The doctors were not experts but they knew that a touch from their fingertips on the extremely soft, sensitive surfaces of Pinky's wrinkled soles would cause a reaction.
The reached down and lightly touched Pinky's warm soles.
Instantly Pinky arched her back and threw her head back, closing her eyes. Other doctors took notes as the young girl began to squeal in hysterical laughter.
"Wait wait wait!!!!!" Pinky was able to pull out between laighter. Not my feet. Not my feeeheeheeheeheeheeheeheet!!!"
She was unable to stop the maddenly touch, a sensation like electrical steel, the feet tickling was absolutely torture for the girl. The doctors continued to tickle Pinky's feet, unconsciously smiling as they did. Who could help it? Tickling the feet, or any spot on a girl's body makes even the novice tickler smile at the laughing reaction. One doctor used just a forefinger and tickled her, finding it hard to abstain from saying 'kootchie kootchie koo' as his single finger tickled her into hysterics. He thought of all those Popeye cartoons he had seen as a kid where Popeye tickled the bottom of Olive Oyl's bare feet with a single finger.
(To be Continued)"So soft," one of the doctors spat out without warning. He was in a state of ecstacy. The other doctors glared at him. "I mean, it...uh...only as an observational statement of the plantar region of her lower extremity," he said straightening up his slouching stance.
Pink was shaking her head back and forth as her little pigtails whipped back and forth. Her long toes strained to claw forthward and cover up her horribly ticklish soles.
The Doctors' fingers tickled up the surface of her smooth, bare feet and clawed at the stems of her toes causing Pinky to squeal.
"Pleeehee hee hee heease! Stop tickling mee hee hee hee hee! I can't take it! I can't take it! Fucccccck!"
Doctor Wood lifted a hand for his partner to stop. He glared down at Pinky.
"See that, Young Lady? That is exactly what we are trying to put an end to; that abusive language. Now, we are going to have to tickle the curse words out of you."
"Nooooo," Pinky yelled in desperation. "I'll be good. I'll be good. Don't tickle me. Don't tickle me. Don't tickle me!"
Meg walked up to her side and reached her massive hands into two claws. Then she grabbed the bare midriff of poor Pinky and began tickling her sides. The girl screamed and for a moment, no laughter came out. Nothing came out. All that was seen was the grimace and the eyes squeezed shut. It appeared as if the sound was turned off suddenly, then, just as quickly, the sounds of hysterical squealing came forth. Meg tickled up and down the thin girl's ribs like she was playing the piano. Her hands came together atop Pinky's bare belly and she began to gallop her fingertips over the smooth skin of Pinky's belly, concentrating on the belly button.
Through her hysterics, she realized that her belly button piercing was gone. The little dangling jewelry with the laughing skull had been removed. Her belly and ribs were so ticklish that she feared that she would faint. She needed to get away and she felt such intense fear that the tickling was accentuated.
Dr. Wood signalled for his assitant to continue tickling her foot only more slowly. He also directed Meg's tickling to ligted up to a soft tickling touch. Pinky was busy catching her breath but the laughter was still there, although not as despeate.
Dr. Wood looked down at the girl. He was at her head and Pinky saw his twisted, upside-down face glaring down through his glasses.
"Are you being to learn, my Girl?"
"YES!" she shouted through giggles. He looked up and signalled the tickling to cease. Then he reach ed his finger down to her exposed underarm again. Pinky began to whimper and giggle at the same time.
"No, Please," she pleaded. "I beg you. I'm sorry. I'll be good. Not under my arm. Please. I can't take it there."
The Doctor looked at her underarm as she said that. It was smooth and stretched. He had seen many armpits in his day and sometimes pondered why the tickle reaction was so strong there. He understood about the feet, since they needed to be extremely sensitive so as not to introduce any foreign objects through walking. Then, he reached his finger down to touch the smooth surface and Pinky began to giggle again desperately pulling at her arm to get it loose.
"Hmmm, fascinating," was all he could mutter. Then he snapped out of his scientific wonderment and addressed the group.
"And so it goes..." he began. Pinky was thankful that it was all over. "The end of this Phase. But the fear of tickling will always be present as Pinky continues her stay here."
***
Continues my stay?
***
"Let her loose for now. We will continue her therapy later."
Pinky didn't like the sound of that last statement as she was realeased and sat up on the padded table. He hair was loose from one pigtail. Her puffed sleeves were pulled over her shoulder. She pulled them down to cover her vulnerably tickle spots. Her shirtails were coming out and her bare kees were shaking.
Pinky didn't like the sound of the Doctor's last statement. She didn't like it one bit.
