Note:
This story is the first in what I hope to be a several episode series. It does a fair amount of context/stage setting before things kick off. If you just want to skip to the start of the game show, search for "Round 1". If you want to skip to just before the tickling actually starts, search for [tklst].
Prologue
Stacy looks at herself in the mirror and sighs as she pulls her brown hair back into a ponytail, preparing for her shift at the burger shop down the street. She’s pulled up short as her phone rings.
"Hel—"
“Stacy! Are you sitting down? You better be sitting down,” the gravelly voice of her agent blasts from her phone, cutting her off. Stacy perks up. “What’ve you got for me? Please tell me it’s a speaking role this time?”
A year ago, Stacy moved to Los Acebosques with a BA in Communications and a minor in Theater planning to become an actress. She'd managed to land a few background parts, but it was her diner job while kept her in her small studio apartment.
“Even better,” her agent replies. “You’ve got a chance to be a contestant in the pilot episode of a new game show. You don’t even need to audition, just agree to show up and sign the contract!”
“Nothing’s ever this good. What’s the catch? Am I going to be eating rat testicles or getting my skull caved in by flying tennis balls?” Stacy asks warily.
Her agent laughs. “Nothing like that as far as I know. There is some physical exertion involved and you have to be willing to show some skin, but nothing that you couldn’t wear to a beach. And here’s the best part: the show is shot over one day and the prizes range from a thousand bucks up to ten grand. That’s a grand for a few hours of work at worst. Who knows, maybe you’ll even win the whole thing.”
Stacy looks at herself in the mirror again, then shrugs.
It’s basically our cheerleading outfit. Hell, I’ve kept in good enough shape since then that I’ll look fine. Who knows, maybe a director will see something they like and it’ll at least get me in the door. A grand would definitely let me put a little aside for the next time my phone breaks. And ten grand… I mean, I doubt I’ll win but that’d let me take an acting class or two…
“Okay, I’m in.”
“Great. I’ll let them know you’re interested. Keep an eye on your email for a contract and let me know when you’ve signed it and sent it back to them. Make sure you can get the day off from work. They’re planning to shoot it three weeks from Monday.”
“Than—” is all Stacy gets out before her agent hangs up. After checking the time to make sure she won’t be late for work, she walks out the door with a new bounce in her step.
Stacy checks her email after getting back from work and is excited to see the contract waiting for her. It begins like a typical contract, giving them the right to use her likeness in promotional material, limiting their liability if she’s injured due to anything other than neglect, and so on. She confirms the payment rate then scrolls to the next page, where her eyes widen in surprise.
In surprisingly clear and straightforward language, the contract states that the contestant agrees:
- to allow other contestants to make (non-forceful) physical contact in locations not covered by clothing and be willing to make physical contact with other contestants
- to allow devices to induce mild physical discomfort
- to be restrained in non-painful conditions
- to wear the outfits provided by the show, with the guarantee that all outfits would be acceptable at most beaches
- to provide a safe word that, when uttered, would immediately stop the current event
- that uttering a safe word would result in the contestant losing that event
- that in the event the contestant clearly and intentionally violates the spirit of fair competition, appropriate compensation will be paid
She pauses and thinks for a minute, then calls her agent.
“What’s up, Stace?” her agent asks.
“Have you seen this contract? It’s what I expected up to the last page… that one’s a bit weird.”
“Oh that,” the agent laughs. “It’s just to cover their bases. Remember that show last year where they threw rotten eggs at the contestants while they were chained to a wall… what was it called, ‘People Will Do Anything for Money’?”
“Money Grubbers?” Stacy asks. “I hate that show…”
“Yeah, that’s the one. Anyway, one of the contestants sued them for wrongful imprisonment, mental and physical trauma, the whole nine yards. The guy lost the suit, but the show got cancelled anyway. So these game shows are being VERY careful these days. And don’t worry, this isn’t anything like that. I think it’s more like an obstacle course run or a race or things like that.”
“Huh, okay. But what’s this last bit about ‘fair competition’?”
“That’s standard in game shows these days. It’s basically there so that if you cheat and ruin the show or show up and just refuse to even try to participate, they get compensated for you wasting their time and ruining their shoot. You’ve got nothing to worry about there.”
“Sounds good. Than—”
Stacy stares at her phone and mutters, "And she hung up on me again… someday I’m gonna finish a conversation with her normally." Stacy thinks for a moment, concluding, “Eh, it’s TV, it can only be so bad. And, as long as I try, I get at least a grand.”
With that thought, she signs the contract and sends it back.
* * *
Several weeks later, Stacy gets out of her ride on the outskirts of Los Acebosques. She and the driver look around the dubiously industrial park that appears to be abandoned.
“You sure this is the place, lady?” her driver drawls.
Stacy looks around at the eerie buildings dubiously, “I think so… it’s not really what I was expecting though.” She checks the email again, confirming that she’s on the right street, and starts looking around for numbers. She spins slowly then starts to walk back to the car. “Can you stick around for a few minutes?” she asks with a frown. “I might need a ride home.”
Before he can reply though, they hear the sound of a creaky metal door opening. Stacy turns to see a young man peering out at her.
“Stacy?” he yells. When she nods, he continues, “Great, come on in. You’re the first one here. We’ll get you into your dressing room and get started once everyone’s arrived.”
She looks at the huge warehouse around the door and waves. She looks over her shoulder at the driver. “Apparently, I have a dressing room. That’s a first!” she laughs.
“Congrats and good luck!” he calls out before starting to drive away.
Stacy joins the man, who introduces himself as Jim. As Jim leads her down the hall, he explains that he’s a PA for the show, focused on the contestants, and to let him know if she needs anything. Stopping at a door labeled “Contestant 1,” he opens it and gestures for her to go inside.
Stacy enters to find a small but comfortable room.
“The outfit?” Stacy asks Jim, gesturing to the brown sports bra and short athletic shorts lying on the desk to the left of the door.
“Yep, just let me know if anything doesn’t fit right and we’ll try to get you something that does. Please change into it so we can get started as soon as everyone’s ready. You’ll need to remove your shoes and socks. I’ve heard our director really likes to keep to the schedule.”
Stacy nods and smiles at Jim.
Jim continues, “The door straight ahead will take you to the competition area. Someone will come get you when it’s nearly time. The door on the right is the bathroom. There’s a nice shower in there too if you want to clean up between the events. Any questions?”
As Stacy shakes her head, Jim hands her the clipboard.
“Okay, then we just need you to write down your safe word. You know what that is, right?”
Stacy nods and focuses on the clipboard.
Red’s the obvious choice, right? Or maybe something like ‘banana,’ I can’t see why I’d ever say that accidentally.
An idea suddenly pops into her head.
If I can’t remember the safe word, then I can’t say the safe word…
And if I can’t say it, I can’t lose.
Perfect!
She quickly scrawls ‘xqpssdzxxlktrgbmndrft’ on the paper under her name and hands the clipboard back to Jim.
“Thanks,” Jim says as he turns to leave. Glancing down, he stops and turns back to Stacy. “You’re sure this,” he waves the clipboard in her direction, “is your safe word? Once I leave with it, there’s no changing your mind.”
Stacy nods, the battle between her nerves and determination making her movements jerky. Jim smiles at her and turns to leave. As he closes the door, he says, “Good luck. And make sure to have fun—it’s what makes these shows worth watching.”
Stacy looks around for a moment, taking in the experience of having her own dressing room for the first time. Then she quickly changes into the provided clothes. Both items fit her well, though the top shows a bit more cleavage than what she usually chooses. She reaches down, feeling the shorts end just an inch or so below her cheeks.
These are almost more hot pants than shorts- Whatever, they’re comfortable and I won’t flash anyone.
She settles into the comfortable chair beside the desk to wait for the game to start.
Round 1
Stacy looks up as she hears on a knock on the interior door. Opening it, she sees the smiling face of Jim. “Great, we’re ready to go -- I see you are too. Thanks for making this so easy." Jim points to a spot on the floor and says, "Just wait here, behind the curtain."“In a minute, you’ll hear our host start her spiel. When she introduces you, the curtain will part and you’ll walk through the door ahead of you to join her and the other contestants for a brief introduction and interview. Good luck!”
Her heart racing, she walks to the indicated spot and waits. Suddenly, a chipper, high-pitched voice with a slight British accent emanates from a speaker behind her,
“Hi everyone! My name is Racquel. Welcome to the first episode of TIGS, the game show that couldn’t be arsed to figure out a better name” she adds with a laugh. “We’ve got a great group of contestants for y’all to enjoy tonight, so let’s meet them. First, we have Stacy, come on out!”
The curtain before Stacy pulls back smoothly. Blinking into the bright lights, she pads forward. A glass wall separates her from a larger, square, central room. She sees three other rooms like hers surrounding it. In it, A young woman, a little taller than herself dressed in a black sequin gown, beckons her to join her. She quickens her steps to join her.
“Welcome Stacy, thanks for joining us tonight. Can you tell us a little about yourself?”
“Sure Racquel,” Stacy replied, relying on her training to stay composed in front of the cameras. “I moved to Los Acebosques about a year ago and I’m trying to become an actress.”
“And how’s that going Stacy?”
“Well, I’m no star yet” Stacy laughs, then continues more seriously, “I’m hoping that the prize I win will let me take some more acting classes and get real roles.”
Racquel nods at Stacy. “I hope it works out for you! And next, we have Rachel,” Racquel turns and beckons to the wall to Stacy’s left. Stacy admires the bounce of the fit woman’s curly red hair as she comes to join them. Rachel and Racquel have a similar brief conversation. Then Racquel invites Olivia to come to the center room.
Stacy watches Olivia’s trim but muscular frame as she strides confidently towards the host from the door opposite hers, beyond the central room. She admires Olivia's obvious six-pack and clear muscle definition -- her time in the college gym giving her a healthy respect for that level of dedication. As Olivia and Racquel chat, Stacy muses,
She's going to be a challenge. She's got confidence and clearly a body deserving of it.
“Finally, we have Amber.” All four women turn to watch as Amber struts into the room. She ignores the other contestants.
Racquel asks, “And what inspired you to try your luck in TIGS Amber?” There’s a brief pause as Amber tries to take the mic and Racquel refuses to hand it over to her. With a huff, Amber says “I was bored and money’s good, I can always use more money, even if it is a pittance like the prize here.”
“Uh-huh. Well… thanks for gracing us with your presence.”
Stacy can barely keep herself from laughing out loud as Amber replies “Of course,” totally missing the sarcasm.
“Anyway! Tonight's contest has three rounds. Each round eliminates one contestant until we have our winner! The first one out doesn't walk away empty handed though, they get 1000 bucks just for trying their best. The stakes rise from there to a grand prize of $10,000. Of course, we want to make sure everyone’s trying their hardest in each round, so there’s a bonus for the winner in each round and consequences for the other contestants.”
“Um, what kind of consequences?” Stacy asks.
“Just, you know, incentives to try your best!”
“Oh, and for all you watching at home, just a reminder that this show is adults only. There’s a reason we’re not on network TV,” she adds with a wink.
“Now, I know everyone’s excited to get started so please return to your rooms and stand on the marked pads so we can begin the first game!”
Stacy watches the other contestants turn to head back to their rooms, then follows their lead. She’s surprised as the door in the glass wall hisses shut after she crosses the threshold. She places her feet on the two yellow footprints on the ground, facing the center room. Shivering as a chilly breeze blows across her exposed skin, Stacy looks across to see Olivia watching her as they wait for the game to begin.
* * *[tklst]
After a moment, the instructions begin. “For our first game, your task is to hold onto the bar for as long as you can.”
Stacy is puzzled for a moment, but hearing a soft mechanical whine from above her, looks up and sees that a panel in the ceiling has opened, revealing a metal bar and attached headphones that slowly lower, coming to stop about chest height. The bar hangs horizontally from a long chain, attached by a pivot at the center of the bar.
“First, put on the headphones.”
Stacy complies and, as she looks around, sees that the other contents have done the same. Through the headphones, she hears:
“Contestants must keep one hand on the bar to continue in the competition. Additionally, there are incentives for keeping the bar level, so try not to lean. We’ll begin in 10, 9, 8 …”
As the voice counts down, Stacy quickly reaches out and grabs the bar comfortably, about shoulder width apart. She watches as the other contestants mirror her actions.
“3, 2, 1…, begin.”
Stacy tenses as the game begins, expecting to feel a shock or something else terrible to make her drop the bar. Instead, the bar just begins to rise. Within 10 seconds, it’s above her head.
Oh no, are they going to lift and drop us!
Seconds later though, she takes a relieved breath as the bar stops moving. The balls of her feet just touch the ground, barely supporting her weight if she stretches. Looking around, she’s relieved to see that the other contestants are in the same predicament- Olivia’s greater height hasn’t given her any advantages.
Stacy looks around puzzled. Huh, I thought they’d want this to go faster…
A moment later, she hears a click in the floor below her. Looking down, she can see another panel has opened and a long mechanical arm is rising out of the hole.
Huh, that kind of looks like a feather? Oh… oh no…
Stacy watches the feather arm rise out of the hole and turn towards her belly. The feather begins a slow circle around her stomach. Her grip tightens, her skin twitching, as she tries not to giggle from the feather’s relentless path. She sucks her tummy in involuntarily, but the feather follows smoothly as it spirals in towards her belly button. She glances up and watches the same thing happening to the other women. To her dismay, the others seem unbothered. The tip of the feather licks the outer rim of her navel, making her quake. Much to her relief though, the feather pulls back and sits idly a few inches from her skin.
Stacy hears a soft click behind her. She turns her head, but only sees the wall behind her. Suddenly, she feels light brushes across the soles of her feet. Stacy relaxes a little.
At least my feet aren’t as ticklish as my belly, I can handle this.
Feeling confident, she checks on Olivia. Her smile widens as she watches Olivia hop and dance, trying in vain to elude the feathers.
Stacy feels the feathers at her feet stop, only to be replaced by two more starting at her wrists and slowly gliding down her arms. She giggles and twists as the feathers approach her underarms, their tips undulating slowly. Just as they start to circle the rim, from her right, she hears:
“Fuck this.” Amber throws her arms down.
Stacy blinks, laughing softly as the feathers continue stroking her armpits. She gave up already? Why show up if you’re not going to try?
“Still the easiest 1,000 bucks I’ve ever made,” Amber laughs. “Now give me my money so I can get out of here.”
Amber gets no response but Stacy sees a long bar fold down from the ceiling. A timer appears on the bar and starts counting up. “What the hell is that?” Amber yells.
“Amber has been eliminated at one minute, twenty-seven seconds,” a voice announces. “Three contestants remain.”
* * *
The feathers circle Stacy’s armpits for a few more seconds as she giggles and squirms, then withdraw briefly. Looking around, Stacy’s eyes widen as she sees several additional arms appearing from the floor and ceiling around the other contestants. Looking down, she sees that round brushes have replaced the feathers.
Those look like oversized electric toothbrushes.
From her headphones she hears, “Proceeding to phase 2.”
Stacy bursts out laughing as the brushes simultaneously land on her armpits, sides, and the soles of her feet and start rotating. Through her headphones, she can hear Rachel’s high-pitched squeal and Olivia’s lower guttural laugh join her own. After a moment, a fourth, teasing voice chimes in.
“Who’s my little ticklish baby? Coochy coo! Are our little brushes too much for you?”
Stacy blushes, the tone reminding her of being teased as a child. She twists and bends, trying to get some distance from the brushes on her belly. Two brushes start at the outer limits of her tummy, one just below her bra line and the other on her lower belly just above her shorts. She notices that the brushes on her stomach seem to be rotating faster than the others moving around her feet and arms. As they spin clockwise, the stomach brushes start picking up speed and, to Stacy’s horror, she realizes that they’re spiraling in again, heading straight for her navel.
As the brushes spin ever faster, Stacy’s laughter flows non-stop from her mouth.
“Please, not my belly button,” she begs helplessly.
In her ears, the voice taunts her, “To make it stop, you just have to let go. But are some silly brushes going to make you quit? Your laughter’s so sweet, it’d be a shame for you to give up too easily.”
Stacy’s world shrinks to an ever-smaller circle focused on her navel. She can barely breathe as the rapidly spinning brushes near her center. A desperate breath erupts as a loud shriek as one brush dips directly into her button. Stacy feels her grip and will both slipping as the brush’s bristles glide over the sensitive flesh.
Suddenly, the sensation’s gone. Blinking to clear the tears in the corner of her eyes, Stacy catches her breath as the brushes return to their original position, lazily teasing her skin. Moments later, the brushes in her armpits start spinning more and more rapidly.
This is SOOOO much better, Stacy thinks while laughing softly and wriggling to try and get a break from the brushes.
Regaining her composure, Stacy surveys the other competitors. To her dismay, Olivia and Rachel both seem to have been mostly unaffected so far.
I’m a sweaty mess and they’re barely breathing hard.
Stacy watches the other women as the brushes continue increasing their pace and start dipping into the center of her pits. As the underarm brushes slow down and return to their original position, Stacy’s focus briefly returns to the brushes idling their ticklish way around her belly.
That only lasts a moment though before the brushes on her soles noticeably pick up speed. The brushes focus on her arches, initially moving slowly up and down her foot from arch to the balls of her feet. Stacy’s laughter increases as the stiff bristles flick over the stretched skin. She hears screeches of laughter in her ears and, looking up, sees that Olivia’s calm demeanor has broken. She’s dancing around, screaming, “No! Make it stop! Not my feet!”
I can’t believe she can do a pull-up like that.
The brushes just follow Olivia’s feet up into the air, never losing their touch even as she kicks and thrashes. Far too soon, in Stacy’s opinion, the foot brushes slow and return to their teasing rotations. Stacy watches as Olivia just hangs from the bar, clearly exhausted.
Stacy nearly loses her grip as her left hip is suddenly pinched, causing her to pull away. Moments later, Stacy hears screaming laughter to her left as the pinches continue, alternating between the left and right sides. Looking over, Rachel had fallen to her knees.
What happened? She was fine a moment ago?
One hand props her up while her other hand clings desperately to the end of the bar, now nearly vertical, her one-handed grip tilting it severely.
She must've let go and collapsed on that first squeeze. I can't believe she's hanging on under all that. Why is she getting tickled so much? Wait, they mentioned something about keeping the bar level.... is THAT what happens if I don't? Crap. I better check now while I can think.
She ever so slightly pulls down with her right hand, slightly tilting the bar. The brushes immediately start tickling much faster, the ones on her belly making a beeline for her navel. Barely keeping her composure, she levels the bar and the more sedate tickling returns.
Stacy settles down and watches Rachel, fascinated. Rachel falls silent as the severe tickling robs her of even the relief of laughter. Her flushed skin nearly matches her red hair as she squirms, clearly trying to find some relief— some brief respite that would give her a chance to regain her footing. Stacy can only admire the technique of the arms as they never allow a moment of respite. As Rachel curls over, trying to protect her stomach, the arms simply tickle her butt and back instead, making her arch backward in agony. With a last gasp, her fingers slip from the bar and she collapses to the floor, panting.
* * *
Stacy watches as a timer, like the one above Amber, appears above Rachel and also begins counting up.
The announcer comes over Stacy’s headphones once more, “Preparing for phase 3,” it intones, the tickling briefly stopping.
As Stacy catches her breath, she feels a click above her head and glancing up, sees a round black panel begin to extend from the band of the headphones. It extends fully to encase her head in a black helmet. A bright flash just in front of her eyes startles her as an image comes into focus on, what she realizes now, is a screen. Two feet appear in front of her, the soles tautly stretched. Experimentally, she lifts her foot and wiggles her toes and watches the foot in front of her do the same.
The headphones proclaim, “Warning: Keeping your eyes closed for an extended period of time will lead to punishment.”
I think I know what ‘punishment’’ means
“Proceeding to phase 3.”
Stacy watches nervously, as several hand-shaped back scratchers rise from the floor and hover above her soles. In a single motion, they all scrabble across her feet, causing immediate laughter to flow from her lips. Each foot has a scratcher focusing on the balls of her feet and she forces herself to watch it as it slides back and forth. The other scratchers flow up and down her arches and she’s surprised that the one that seems focused on just circling her heel tickles so much. She lifts one foot, trying to get a break but the devilish scratchers just follow, never giving her a moment’s rest. Feeling herself teetering, she forces her foot back to the ground, gritting her teeth as she tries to absorb the tickling.
After a while, the scratchers withdraw and Stacy hangs there, desperately trying to catch her breath to prepare herself for whatever they dreamed up next.
“Oh god, no” she mutters as the screen flickers. She sees her own belly, sucking in and out roughly. She tracks a small bead of sweat as it falls towards her shorts.
Long arms flow into view from the bottom of her screen. The two hovering next to her sides have soft, pincer-like appendages while the two sitting just above the waist of her shorts have what looks like a very soft and fluffy painters roller attached to them.
The arms attack again without warning, Stacy shrieks, her entire body doing a crunch as her hips are tickled at the same time. As her legs fall, the rollers engage her belly. They start below her belly button teasing the sensitive skin and making her cry out once more. The rollers move slowly up her belly in tandem, making sure every inch of her sensitive skin is thoroughly tickled. The rollers press into her harder as they reach the ribs just below her bra line. Stacy’s eyes tear and she closes them, shaking her head to block out the terrible tickling.
The announcement, “Warning: Eye closure detected, punishment level 1 commencing,” sends a jolt of fear through Stacy. The scratchers return to furiously torment her feet. Nearly at her limit, she forces her eyes open. The assault on her feet stops immediately and she’s able to regain a measure of composure as the rollers slide back down her belly, tickling ever so slightly less.
“Is this really worth it? The helpless laughter flowing out of her.
This cycle continues several times, though Stacy manages to keep her eyes open even during the terrible rib tickling. Her only solace is that the rollers stay to each side of her navel. She dreads how bad it would tickle if the soft fibers of the roller slipped inside it. As suddenly as it began, the rollers and pincers stop. Covered in sweat from head to toe, Stacy forces herself to breath deeply as she tries to muster her reserves for whatever comes next.
I can’t give up. I need the money, I need to win. I made sure I couldn’t quit with their stupid safeword, I’m sure as hell not going to just let go.
The screen flashes, the view changing to side-by-side views of her underarms. Two other arms, each with a bottle, clearly labeled as ‘Oil’, attached on the end descend into view. Each bottle sprays oil up and down her armpits.
Oi, that’s cold
She shivers as the droplets trickle and merge, slightly tickling on their own. The bottle arms withdraw, and are replaced by arms with nubby balls on the end. To Stacy’s horror, the balls start rotating rapidly, slowly approaching her vulnerable hollows.
Stacy feels a sudden cold spray on her feet. Before she can process what that means, explodes with laughter as what feels like a thousand tiny fingers fly up and down her soles. Her eyes involuntary close but she forces them back open just in time to see the screen flash the text “Just kidding.” The view switches again. Stacy can barely see her feet behind the two large hair brushes covering them. The brushes are just a blur as they slide up and down her slippery soles. Stacy’s only coherent thought is to just keep holding on as the sensations overwhelm her. Her body dances and twitches, legs jerking involuntarily to try and elude the tickling to no avail. She quickly enters silent laughter, broken only occasionally when she manages to take a deep breath only for it to escape in a scream.
Several minutes later, Stacy comes back to herself, realizing that the brushes have stopped. To her own amazement, she’s still got a death grip on the bar. She flexes her fingers, releasing some of the tension in her burning forearms.
I can’t believe Olivia made it through that… I can’t believe I made it through that…
Stacy’s interrupted as the view changes again. She sees her damp belly once more. She shudders as she watches the dreaded oil bottles cover her stomach in a thin layer of oil, including several shots directly in her belly button.
This is going to suck so bad.
She watches two hair brushes settle next to her ribs. Surprising Stacy, they start gently, alternating between sliding along and in between her ribs to scrubbing up and down them. While laughing, she realizes that compared to what happened to her feet, this is downright pleasant. She feels a soft feather duster begin to spin on her chest, starting at her neck and working down the cleavage exposed by her bra, making her laugh a bit harder. Stacy jumps as two arms pinch her inner thighs, up near her crotch.
That’s new.
The arms poke and grab along her thighs, briefly tickling the backs of her knees before starting back up.
Stacy laughs freely as the tickling continues. As the feather duster reaches the bottom of her bra, she’s surprised to feel her nipples slightly puckering under the teasing of the dusters. She’s almost disappointed as the duster starts moving back towards her neck. As the arms near her crotch and start tracing along her panty line and squeezing her thighs once more, she realizes that her twisting and jerking are causing the arms to occasionally brush her pussy, which feels surprisingly good. Her hips occasionally thrust forward involuntarily, seeking additional contact and a distraction from the ever increasing tickling that’s beginning to dominate her mind once more.
After several minutes, Stacy’s head hangs forward as she forces herself to hang on. “
I need to win this round so I don’t get more punishment. I want the reward… I’ve got to hang on, Olivia’s got to be close to giving up.
Stacy’s thoughts crash to a halt as she feels several shots of oil directly into her belly button once more. As the bottle disappears from view, she sees a new tool gliding slowly towards the target. It’s a long, thin probe, but seems to have thousands of tiny, stiff, bristles coating the bulbous head. Stacy’s breath hitches as she realizes it’s headed directly for her most sensitive spot, her navel. She desperately sucks her tummy in, delaying its entry for a moment or two, but it’s shortly firmly nestled in her navel, resting lightly against the bottom and barely touching the walls.
“Ready for this?” pops up on her screen.
Stacy quivers in fear, whispering, “No please…”
“Too bad” is all the reply she sees before her entire world collapses to focus on her core as tickles explode from it. No thought in her head before making the awful sensation stop, Stacy curls into a ball and falls to the floor panting explosively.
Damn it! is her only thought, lying on the cool, sweat covered floor. She feels a click above her head and as the screen retreats into the headphones, she sits up blinking as she takes in her surroundings. Looking across the room, she’s puzzled to see Olivia glaring at her. To her surprise, Olivia looks far more composed than she feels herself. She glances up, above Olivia’s head, to see a timer reading ‘7:26’.
Wow, she's way fitter than me ... or ..., Stacy's eyes flick back to the timer, maybe she's had more time to recover?
At that moment, Racquel announces, “Congratulations Stacy! You’ve won round 1!”
Author's Note:
Thanks for making it this far! I hope you enjoyed the first part of the story. I plan to post a new section about once a week. This is my first attempt at writing, well, much of anything frankly, so I'd appreciate any thoughtful/constructive feedback you have.Next Entry:
https://www.ticklingforum.com/threa...e-round-1-part-2-tigs-f-f-mostly-feet.452959/
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