“Just relax.” Marcus commanded. “Breath in and out. Just focus on the breath.” I rolled my eyes.
“Yes sensei. Whatever you command.” I looked to Zoe with a wink, but she just scowled at me. Marcus seemed similarly displeased, crossing his arms in front of him like a disappointed parent.
“It’s not going to work if you don’t let it, babe.” Zoe pouted. “Don’t be a loser. Just do what he says.” My girlfriend had always been into this sort of stuff—astrology, crystals, tarot cards, and more to the point—hypnosis. I had never really bought into it. It seemed to occupy that semi-spiritual space of scams and quackery that only hippies and 20-year old studio art majors truly believed. I guess at that time, I thought I was above it all. I’d mostly play along with her, let her read my fortune, sleeping with purple-quartz under my pillow when I got a headache, stuff like that. It doesn’t mean I wouldn’t gently tease her about it, though, much to her continuous annoyance. So when her old college friend casually mentioned he was a hypnotist (I’m not kidding, that’s like, his actual job apparently), Zoe immediately volunteered herself to be his test subject. Marcus just chuckled.
“Zoe, please.” He said. “It’s my day off—don’t make me work for free, now.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Something funny?” Marcus asked. He was smiling, but I could see a twinge of annoyance in his face.
“No, I’m sorry. It’s just…” I chuckled. “Is it really, like, work? Does your arm get tired from swinging a little pocket watch around, or?”
“Babe!” The look on Zoe’s face was like I had just blasphemed in the highest degree. “Don’t be rude! Hypnotism is an art form. People use it to cure addiction, to break bad habits, even as a form of therapy. Right Marcus?” She turned to him with child-like wonder that I had to admit was a little cute.
“That’s right.” Marcus replied. “I take pride in what I do. Feels good to give back, you know.” He said this with an air of faux-humility made me giggle. Yeah, you’re a real saint. Scamming desperate people out of their money with your hocus-pocus. Great work, man. Zoe, on the other hand, was clearly taken with the whole idea. “We have a skeptic in the room, I see.” He fixed me with an icy smile.
“Yeah, not really my thing. You do you though, brother. If that’s how your bread is buttered, all power to you.” Not one to back down from a passive-aggressive contest, I shot him back a fake smile of my own. I had known this guy for all of an hour, and he was already starting to get on my nerves. He had basically ignored me thus far, just laughing with Zoe about some asinine inside jokes from the past. Here he was, in my apartment, drinking my beer, laughing with my girlfriend, putting his feet up on my coffee table. I eat my food off of that table, I like to keep it a foot-free zone. I even had to ask him to take his shoes off when he walked through the door—was this guy raised in a barn, or what?
“Well, I think it’s very cool. At least someone has a job that helps people.” My girlfriend stuck her tongue out at me, and I blew back a kiss.
“I do help people, thank you very much.” I shot back, taking a sip of my beer. Zoe just scoffed.
“You’re a financial consultant. How exactly are you helping people, again?” Her irritation was palpable.
“I help people with a bunch of money get a bunch more money. That counts.” Zoe couldn’t help but crack a smile. She rolled her eyes, but I could tell my charm was winning out. Even Marcus laughed.
“How noble of you.” I raised my glass as if to say oh, why thank you. “You know…” He eyed me up and down. “Maybe I could demonstrate tonight. If you were down.”
“Oh! Please, please, please!” Zoe squealed. “I’ve never been hypnotized before, not really. I mean, I’ve watched a few YouTube videos on it, but I think they barely worked.”
“Why don’t I hypnotize you, Jeff?” He stared right past his adoring fan, locking his eyes right on me. “Since you’re so certain it’s bullshit.” I raised my eyebrows, but he continued before I had a chance to tell him to fuck off. “See, if I hypnotize Zoe here, that won’t convince you I’m the real deal. You’d chalk it up to her pretending, or at the very best her wanting it to be real hard enough that it had some sort of placebo effect. Am I right?” I shifted in my seat as Zoe looked to me expectantly.
“I mean, yeah. I guess. No offense. I’m sure it works for people who believe in it. Probably some real benefit to that, I’d imagine.” I swirled my beer around in my hand. “Just gonna level with you though, I feel like this has the potential to be a little awkward. You’re going to try to hypnotize me, it’s not going to work, you’ll probably get all upset and tell me I somehow messed it up or something. Let’s just skip to the part where you both think I’m a stick-in-the-mud asshole and move past it, yeah?” Zoe was about to scold me again, but Marcus put up his hand.
“It’s alright, Zoe. None taken.” He smiled at me again, a genuine one this time, full of a smugness that made me want to clock him. “I propose a friendly wager, in that case. Here’s the bet: I’ll put you under. It will feel something like ‘twilight sleep’. You’ll be not quite awake, but not asleep either. Once there, I’ll plant a notion in your subconscious. Don’t worry, nothing nefarious. Just a little something to show you that I’m legit. If I get you to admit that hypnotism is real, I win. If you’re unaffected—“ He shrugged. “Then I guess I am full of shit. You can have bragging rights till the end of time.” I considered his offer.
“Not really a bet without wagering something, though, is it? 100 bucks sound good?” Might as well make some money off of this charlatan, I thought.
“That’s a little rich for my blood, Jeff. I’m on a hypnotist’s salary, remember? How about…” He pondered for a moment. “Ah. If I win, you have to give me a foot massage. I’ve been walking around all day, these guys are sore.” I cringed as he wiggled his toes at me.
“I’m not touching your feet, bro.” I said with disgust. What a freak. Why is Zoe friends with this guy?
“Jeff hates feet.” Zoe giggled. “You picked pretty much the worst thing to wager. Or like, the second worst.”
“Well, that’s sort of the point.” Marcus laughed. “The loser has to do something they don’t want to do. But I get it, man. If you’ve changed your mind about my profession, just say so. We can end this right here. You know…” He smiled linking his fingers behind his head. “Since you’re clearly scared you’d loose.” Zoe let out a goading oooooh. He was really starting to piss me off now. Phony spiritual bullshit aside, this guy was 1) much too familiar with my girlfriend, 2) arrogant as shit, and 3) not half as clever as he thought it was.
“How about this: When I win, you go on home for the night, aching feet be damned. We have ourselves a deal?” I immediately regretted saying it. Zoe looked like she wanted to kill me; I had basically just told her guest to get the fuck out of my apartment. But Marcus didn’t seem bothered in the slightest.
“Deal!” He said with no hesitation whatsoever. He clapped his hands together. “Let’s get started.” Zoe seemed thrilled, like she was about to be proven right after all these years of mockery.
“You’re gonna have to massage his feeeeeet.” She said in a sing-song voice as Marcus positioned me in my chair. I just sighed and scoffed, but did as he instructed. Well. Mostly. Besides for the sensei comment, and stuff.
“Jeff.” Marcus said impatiently. “The bet doesn’t count if you don’t give it an honest try. Follow my commands. Breath in and out. Slowly.” Seeing the look on my girlfriend’s face, I decided my best option was to comply. “Close your eyes. That’s right.” He continued, his voice taking on a softer, more intentional tone. “Five seconds in, a deep breath. Hold it. Now out. That’s perfect. Keep that rhythm going.” He went silent for a few moments as I got it down. “Good. Feel the weight of the air in your lungs as it flows, in and out. Feel your muscles contracting as the breath takes you; feel them tighten, and release. Tighten, and release.” A sense of calm began to wash over me as the minutes passed. Hey, maybe he should be a sleep therapist. I thought drearily, stifling a yawn. “You’re starting to get tired. Don’t fight that feeling. Let yourself drift off. I was vaguely aware of Marcus coming closer to me, and I even thought I heard Zoe say something. “Focus.” That word snapped my attention back to me breath. “Imagine a light at the top of your skull. It’s a warm light, a soft glow of energy. Do you feel that? Good. The light is going to travel from your head to your face, slowly, making its way down all across your body. Feel each muscle loosen as the light passes through. Wherever the light touches, that part of you is now weightless, motionless, without tension and full of warmth. Do you feel that, Jeff?” I muttered an affirmative response. I really was starting to get tired. I didn’t feel a magic light or whatever, but my limbs were starting to feel heavy, my breath seemingly coming and going without my consent. Marcus’s voice seemed different now, deeper, both quiet and loud, like he was standing right next to both of me ears, speaking directly into me. “You’re going to drift off. Drift…off.”
Drift….
….Offfff.
SNAP. The sound was deafening, and my eyes flung open.
“Jesus.” I whined. “Right in my ear, dude.” I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the lights. “I mean, congrats—you almost put me to sleep at least.” Zoe and Marcus both grinned smugly at me. He was now standing directly in front of me, his face only a few inches from my own. I scooted back on my chair with a scowl.
“Almost?” Zoe smirked. “Look at the clock, Mr. Know-it-all.” I was a little surprised to see that it was now 9:30PM, some 15 minutes after we had started. “You were out like a light, doofus. I think I heard some snoring.” She playfully punched me in the arm.
“W-wait. I didn’t—I was awake that whole time. I was just relaxed, is all.” I insisted. Maybe I had misread the clock?
“Afraid not, buddy. I put you under.” Marcus looked pleased with himself, though I imagine that’s how he looked most of the time. “It was real easy, too. You’re very susceptible.” He tussled my hair like I was a child.
“Right.” I batted away his hand angrily. “So I suppose you ‘incepted a notion in my subconscious’? What, am I going to relive my past lives now or something?” My voice dripped with sarcasm. He had done a great job of relaxing me, I had to give him that, but there was no way that shit had worked. Their reaction troubled me, though. They looked at each other with devious smiles, giggling like they were privy to another stupid inside joke at my expense.
“That’s not quite it, no.” Marcus said between chuckles. “I did plant a notion, of course. A rather strong one, as it were—again, you’re one of the most susceptible people I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with.” Marcus wrapped a friendly arm around my girlfriend, and she rested her head on his shoulder. I was about to protest, but he spoke over me. “See, Zoe said something earlier that peaked my interest. She said that massaging my feet was the only the second worse thing I could do to you, right? Soooo…” He trailed off. “Once I had you under, she and I had a little chat about the worst thing.” Even though I still didn’t believe in this shit, I couldn’t help but feel uneasy. I looked at Zoe. What did you tell him? I said with my eyes.
You’ll see. She winked back
“Hey, Jeff.” Marcus wiggled his fingers in the air. “I’m tickling you.” The sensation was immediate.
“Hehehehe-whahahaat!?” The giggles escaped my lips, forced out by the awful tingling feeling on my stomach. It was like insects were crawling on me, little fluttering legs gently brushing all over. I pulled up my shirt, expecting to find something there, but to my horror it was just my bare stomach. Save for the twitching of my abdomen, nothing was in contact. “Whahahahat the fuck! I-hahahaha!” I looked back up to Marcus in disbelief. He was still wiggling his fingers, a good three feet away, absolutely not making contact with me…but against all sense, my brain clearly perceived these touches to be real. It’s his fingers, I thought, I can feel his fingers tickling my stomach. As I struggled to wrap my head around this, panic setting in, Zoe wrapped my tormentor in an enthusiastic hug.
“Holy shit!” She exclaimed, giddy with excitement. “You did it! It really worked! The tickling hypnosis worked!” He hugged her back, holding her in a way that certainly would have started a fight if I hadn’t been so preoccupied.
“Of course it worked. I’m the real deal, remember.” He pinched her cheek before turning back to me. “So, as you might have gathered, Zoe told me about your little weakness, kiddo. Some one is a bit ticklish, huh?” My mind started to spin. I was more than a little bit ticklish. Zoe had tickled me exactly one time in our relationship, when we had first gotten together. She just playfully poked one of my armpits, wiggling her fingers for a mere second or two. I had reacted so violently that I made her promise never to do it again, confiding in her that it embarrassed me to no end how sensitive my body was. The fact that she had revealed this to such an arrogant prick was enough to make my cheeks burn red. “I implanted a simple little suggestion, really.” His hand slipped around Zoe’s waist, who either didn’t care or was so wrapped up in excitement that she didn’t notice. “When I say the code phrase, you would feel me tickling you, hands free. Anywhere I like, however long I like.” Fear started to truly set in as the ticklish sensations continued, a churning pit in my stomach. He’s controlling this? He can make me feel this without touching me? It wasn’t possible, it couldn’t be happening—and yet, as I felt his ghostly fingers probe my stomach, the horrible truth seemed to call out to me. “For example: I’m tickling your armpits.”
“WOAHAHAH FUCK!” The feeling of fingers galloping across my pits made me jump out of my seat. I flailed my arms wildly, desperately trying to halt the source of ticklish torment. It didn’t work. Wherever my armpits went, Marcus’s ticklish power followed. I even clamped my arms down hard at my sides, and yet the wiggling persisted, the unmistakable feeling of grasping, clawing, poking digits not letting up for even a second. “JEHEHESUS! W-wait, I-heheheh! No!” Zoe and Marcus laughed uncontrollably at this, almost as loud as I was. It must have been quite a pathetic sight for her to see; her big, strong boyfriend, struggling wildly against the mere thought of tickling.
“Yeah, his armpits are pretty bad.” She said, clearly enjoying herself. “Babe, you—haha! You sound like a little girl right now.” She snorted. There was an element of cruelty to her words, like she was taking her revenge for all the times I had doubted her new-age interests. Marcus looked just pleased as punch, an almost hungry expression on his face, reveling in the power he had over me.
“Are you a little girl?” Marcus sneered. “Let’s find out. Maybe your feet would like a turn, Jeffy-boy. Cootchie coo, you girly little man.” He grinned wide as my feet exploded into ticklish agony. Finger nails were raking from heel to toe, no matter that my feet were planted firmly to the floor. I picked one foot up, trying to cover it with my hand, still holding on to some vague notion that I could logic my way out of this nightmare. Scrape, scrape, scrape. Up and down the fingers went, completely unaffected my attempts to stop them.
“Ok, ok, I-hahah, I--I, Marcus, plehehehaheas man, s-stop!” The pathetic begging came pouring out of me, but it only seemed to egg the pair on.
“There are feathers between your toes.” Marcus commanded. I fell to the ground as the feeling began, fluffy bristles sawing back and forth across each digit. I howled, not even managing to get a word out. “Now there’s poking right in your pits, just like this.” He motioned with his index fingers, poking the air in front of him. “Poke, poke, poke. Riiiight in the center of your ticklish little pits. You feel that?” With each poke of his fingers, I yelped a little louder. “I’m brushing your stomach with a feather duster, the softest, most tickly duster in the world.” I covered my stomach, but it did nothing to stop the feeling of a thousand feather soft touches. “Now its on your neck. Now your ears. Now your pits. Now your feet. Now your stomach again.” They left me like that for several mote minutes; me, flailing around helplessly on the ground, gasping out pleas for mercy through shuddering laughter. Marcus and Zoe laughed all the while, mocking and taunting while I suffered.
“Wooow. So manly, darling.” Zoe cooed. “I’m really impressed by your stoic rationality right now.” She wrapped her arm around Marcus’s waist. “You deserve this, babe. Sorry. You can’t be this arrogant and this ticklish. Pick one.”
“Uh oh, buddy.” Marcus chimed in. “I think your girl likes this a little too much. Better stay on her good side from now on. You know she can use this too, right? Anyone that says the code phrase can totally wreck your shit.” The minutes continued to tick by, until tears started to form in my eyes, a million ticklish sensations raping my body from head to toe. “Stop.” As quickly as it began, the tickling halted. “That’s how I turn it off. When I say stop, the tickling ceases. Neat, huh?” I took heavy, ragged breaths. Sweat was dripping down my forehead, and I felt like I had just been through hell. I meekly looked up at Marcus, the startled look of a fearful child no doubt plastered on my face. He ate it up with relish, enjoying how easily he had snuffed my bravado.
“Well, honey? Still think it’s fake? Get those fingers ready. You’re massaging sweaty feet tonight.” Zoe stuck her tongue out at me before laughing innocently. I stared up at her as well, baffled. Did she not understand how torturous this was for me? How humiliated and afraid I was? She was acting like this was all a harmless prank, like I was totally in on the joke with her. Could she really be this dense? No, I thought bitterly, she knows. She’s just actually enjoying this. She...likes it. Something resembling fight or flight kicked in, and I shakily pushed myself to my feet.
“Get…the fuck…out.” I said, still breathing hard from the exertion. I stared daggers at Marcus, putting my hands up like I intended to fight him. His response sucked all the wind of the attempt however.
“HAHAHA! Violent! What, you gonna kick my ass, kiddo?” He chuckled.
“Get the fuck out, right now! I’m serious!” I took a step towards him, wheeling my fist back to strike—
“I’m tickling you.” It came as no more than a mere whisper, but the power it carried was immense.
“Hngh!” My arm clamped back to my side as the tickling in my pits began once more. All that masculine rage dissipated in an instant as I started squealing like a little girl once more. Zoe looked almost disgusted with me.
“Seriously? Ok, that…was kind of pathetic. Stop trying to be a tough guy, tickle-pits. Marcus would beat you up anyway. He’s way stronger than you.” She said matter-of-factly. I couldn’t tell what was worse; her cruel words, or the awful tickling. Marcus just sighed.
“I thought you would have learned your lesson by now, but alright. Suit yourself. Your socks are tickling you. They’re full of tiny little brushes, swishing back and forth.” Just as he said, the fabric of my socks was magically replaced by a flurry of ticklish brushes.
“EEEEE!” I squealed with a pitch that was three octaves higher than my normal voice. “Plehehease! Ok! OK! OK!” I ripped the socks off, throwing them across the room like they were radioactive.
“Your shirt is made of feathers. They’re stroking you everywhere the fabric touches your skin.” Pits, nipples, stomach, chest, back—his words spoke the feeling into existence. My clothes were a prison of ticklish-hell; every slight movement I made amplified the sensation, dragging soft, tickly touches over me. Now covered in hundred wiggling feathers, I was forced to desperately remove the shirt as well.
“Do his pants, too!” Zoe demanded with a glean in her eye. I looked at her, pleading for some mercy, but the I only found cruelty and enjoyment. “He tried to punch you. He needs to learn his lesson. Ticklish little wanna-be tough guys should be stripped to their underwear, right Marcus?”
“Excellent idea, Zoe. You ready?” He grinned at me.
“Wait, no!” I cried. “I’m sorry, guys. Seriously. Don’t do it.” The words were pouring out in a pathetic drivel.
“Here it cooooomes.” Zoe said softly. “Oh its going to tickle sooooo bad, honey. Think of all those feathers, on your knees, on your legs, on your butt.” She giggled. “You might piss yourself, baby.” I could already feel the tickling starting, even without the command. The rough denim on my legs started to take on a softer quality, like they were made of bristling furs. I started to squirm.
“Three. Two. O—“ I interrupted Marcus’s countdown with a screech.
“AHH!” Looping my hands into my jeans, I ripped them down to my ankles. Zoe gasped; I had just willingly exposed myself in front of another man out of fear. I struggled to pull them off of my feet, nearly falling to the floor in the process. Marcus and Zoe looked at each other for a moment, sharing a shocked glance between them—before they both burst out laughing. I suddenly became painfully aware of how exposed I was. As the fear of tickling was replaced by shame, I covered my crotch with both hands. This was the lowest moment of my life, almost naked, putting on a show for my treacherous girlfriend and her sadistic friend. They laughed on and on as I stood there, meekly covering my bulge, cheeks burning red.
“Oh. My. God. You’re pathetic.” Zoe tittered. “He didn’t even tickle you yet, loser. You’re in your little tighty-whiteys!”
“Don’t be shy, kiddo. Let’s see the goods.” Marcus said casually. Zoe looked to him with an expression I couldn’t place. Mischief? Arousal?
“What?” I stuttered.
“I want to see what all the fuss is about. What does Zoe see in you? Can’t be your personality.” He laughed. “And I know it’s not your masculinity, tickle-boy. So let’s see it, is your man packing down there?”
“I-I’m not—“ My hands wrapped tighter around my privates.
“I can make your underwear tickle you, Jeff. Let’s not make this harder than it has to be. Arms. Up.” He spoke the last words with that same even tone he used while hypnotizing me. Completely out of my control, my arms shot high into the air, raised above my head as if they were held there by invisible marionette strings. I struggled, but my arms wouldn’t obey my commands, my body now the property of another man’s will. My bulge hung there, now totally exposed for all to see.
“I may have planted a few other suggestions, big guy. Like, you have to follow my instructions. Sorry, might have forgotten to mention it.” Marcus looked down to my crotch with a smirk. “Or should I say, little guy?” My cheeks burned crimson at the remark. Perhaps due to the anxiety of the situation, my cock was as soft as it could possible be. There was barely a hint of a bulge in my underwear. Zoe looked embarrassed, even a little ticked off, as if my size reflected poorly on her. “So, it’s not his dick, either.” He continued. “What do you see in this guy, cutie?”He tussled her hair playfully. “You into tiny-dick, ticklish wimps?”
She wrinkled her nose, staring at me with disdain. “Not so much, Marcus. I guess you’re right…he is a little below average in that department.” Her words felt like a dagger piercing through my heart, stripping me of any dignity I may have had left. I hung my head in shame as the two walked closer, inspecting their handy work. “This is interesting, though.” Zoe mused, putting her face close to my naked pits. I shuddered as she drew near, my body so sensitive that even her breath on my pits was enough to tickle. “He really can’t lower his arms? Not an inch?”
“Give it a try.” Zoe cocked her head to one side, as if thinking. Then, she simply blew a little air onto my pit hollow.
“EEE!” I squealed. Even that slight gust of wind on my pit hairs was enough.
“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes. “Man the fuck up. Jesus, I didn’t even touch you. See?” She wiggled her fingers a few centimeters from my pits, not making contact, but threatening too with every moment. I burst into laughter; this wasn’t even the hypnosis at work, just the horrid anticipation of her manicured nails wrecking my pits. “I’m not touching you. Not touching you. Stop laughing. Nooooot even making contact, buddy. You’re literally laughing from not being touched. Fuck, I’m like, embarrassed to be your girlfriend right now.” She sneered.
“Stohahahap! Baby!” I pleaded. “Heeheeha! Please, get out! Get out of my pits!”
“I’m not in your pits. Not yet, at least. Prove to me you can be a man. Just stop laughing. A real man wouldn’t be begging from this. Mind over matter, right? Just lower your arms. This is all bullshit right? You should be able to lower your arms. You should be able to control yourself.”
“Keep that up, Zoe. I have an idea.” The look on Marcus’s face sent to me to new heights of paranoia. “Breath in.” As the command came, I felt my breath come in an out in arhythmic fashion, just as it had when he put me under. “Now out. Good. With each passing second, your armpits are becoming more ticklish.” Fuck. Nononono fuck. I thought. Please don’t make me more ticklish, for the love of god. Fifteen minutes ago, I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but now I was a true believer—this man could do whatever he wanted to me. “As her nails rake through the air, all the nerve endings in your body begin to concentrate. They’re moving to your armpits; every inch of your body will feel what she does to them. You’re becoming more and more ticklish now. Your feeling starts and ends right in the center of your armpits. That’s all you are right now, not a person any longer, just two ticklish pits.” I could feel his words seep into my brain, drawing every ounce of attention into the growing sensation in my underarms. “You’re so ticklish, that even the air is too much to handle. You can feel the slightest perturbation of wind on your armpits.” Exactly as he described, the feeling of the rest of my body began to fade into the background. I was suddenly hyper-aware of the draft breezing through the room, giggles escaping my mouth as it brushed gently through my pit hairs. Zoe had a mesmerized look on her face, estatic to be a part of the process. It was clear that she was drunk on the power, relishing in the fear in my eyes. “When she touches them, its going to tickle more than anything you ever felt.” Marcus continued. “It will be a feeling so intense, so all consuming, that you will do anything to make it stop.” He walked behind Zoe, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. She stopped the wiggling of her fingers.
“Marcus…” She blushed at his overt flirtation. There had been something simmering between them from the start, but now it had crossed the threshold. Neither person could deny the magnetic attraction they were feeling; the shared power of humiliating a lesser man acting as a catalyst. Who could blame him? There’s nothing more attractive than a man in charge, and with how thoroughly he had dominated me, how completely he had shown his superiority at my expense, the electric feeling of arousal started to swell up inside of her.
“Shhh.” He whispered in her ear, eliciting a small moan from her lips. “You wanted to teach him a lesson, right?” I could see the goosebumps running down her neck as he gently ran his beard across it. “Well, he’s all yours. Completely at your mercy. Look at those pits. Just begging to be punished, yes? You said it yourself: A real man could take it. Go ahead. Show him what kind of person he is.” He planted a small kiss on her cheek. She looked up at him with an expression bordering on feral, all that was morally wrong with the situation making it all the more desirable. But there was something else there, too; admiration, maybe even compassion, like she was grateful that he had given her this opportunity. And then, she turned to me. All that arousal was channeled into a vicious grin. She extended her index fingers, manicured nails filed down to a sharp point, and began slowly wiggling them towards the center of my pits, the place where all my sensation had been so maliciously concentrated. More fear than I thought was humanly possible to experience flooded my mind as they approached, knowing full well that this would be my destruction.
“Hey Jeff.” She said, moments before impact. “I’m tickling you.” With that, she plunged her fingers in. Just the tips, just barely scraping the center of my hollows—
—and it felt like a bomb had gone off inside my brain.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” I only managed to laugh for the first few seconds before I went silent, just pitiful, shuddered gasps as my entire world became tickling. It was indescribable torment, a lifetime of tickle-torture distilled down to one moment, one spot on my anatomy. Waves of ticklish electricity crashed down over me, again and again. My eyes rolled back into my head as I howled. I would have done anything to make it stop: My mind flashed with visions of submission as I tried to think of a bargaining chip. Massaging Marcus’s feet. Becoming his servant, doing his laundry and cleaning his house. Standing meekly by as he kissed my girlfriend. Licking the sweat off his soles as he fucked her, wearing a little maid outfit while I did his chores, stripping myself naked and dancing for his amusement, kissing his hairy armpits after a workout. The images rolled through my head, crisp and clear as any real memory. I tried to tell myself this was another implanted subconscious suggestion, that he had engineered the collapse of my manhood, but truth be told I had simply been pushed to the brink. I don’t know how long it went on for. Maybe minutes, maybe hours, potentially several eons. I writhed, and begged, and cried, and screamed, but nothing seemed to move Zoe, who kept her fingers nailed to my helpless armpits.
“Stop.” I shot back to reality. Zoe had withdrawn her fingers. She was standing face-to-face with Marcus, her arms now wrapped around him as well. They gazed into each others eyes as I gasped for breath, the sweat from my forehead nearly blinding me. I should have felt something, anger, betrayal, despair…but I only felt relief. I found that my arms once again responded to my commands, and they came crashing down to my sides. As I tried to piece myself to together again, Marcus spoke. He didn’t even look at me, eyes still locked on my girlfriend, face awash with pride. “Jeff. I think it’s time for that foot massage.” Zoe giggled.
That night continued, mercifully, without any more tickling. They plopped down on the couch, Marcus propping his feet up on the coffee table, my coffee table, and stripping off his socks. My hands griped the massive, sweaty size-13s, and I gave an honest try to give him the best damn massage he had ever received. So total was my submission that I didn’t even try to fight it. I didn’t even comment about how close they were sitting, his arm wrapped around her, her head resting on his chest, her fingers tracing circles on his thigh. I just kneeled there in my underwear, rubbing the disgusting feet of my mortal enemy, the man who made me his bitch without ever laying a finger on me. They mostly ignored me. In between rounds making out, they reminisced about old times. The only time they drew reference to me was to laugh at my sorry state, to comment on how pathetic it was that I was giving another man a foot massage, in my underwear, while he cuddled with my girlfriend.
“How do they smell?” Zoe asked casually. “As bad as you thought?” Marcus placed his foot on my face. I gagged, repulsed by the stench of sweat, but didn’t dare shoo him away.
“Well?” He asked, running the length of his foot up and down my face. “Pretty bad, right? Just be glad it’s not my armpits.”
“I can’t believe you’re letting this happen, baby. In your own home. Another man is touching me, aren’t you going to do something? He’s just a silly hypnotist, right?” She goaded, dripping with arousal. I had never seen this side of her, and if not for the male feet in my face, I may have been turned on myself. “Kiss it.” Zoe commanded. Her voice was stern, cold, completely devoid of affection. “Kiss his feet while I kiss him.”
“Jesus.” Marcus laughed. “You are mean. I like it.”
“N-no…please.” I whimpered. “Don’t make me.” My voice was higher pitched than usual, like I had regressed from man to boy.
“If you don’t, I’ll tell all my friends about your new…condition.” She threatened. “I’ll expose you in front of everyone. I’ll make all your clothes tickle you so bad you have to strip naked in public.” I shuddered at the thought, tears forming in my eyes. Seeing this, Zoe softened for a moment. “Oh, baby.” She cooed. “Don’t fight it. This is how it should be. Don’t you see that you deserve feet? You know I’m right. Just let it happen. This is what happens when you beg from a little tickling, right? You can’t really tell me you deserve my body after that, can you? Some men deserve pussy, but you…you’re only good enough for feet. He could just make you do it anyways. Save yourself the trouble.” The look she was giving me, an almost nurturing approval, was the closest thing to love I had felt all night, and so melted my resolve.
I couldn’t find a gap in her logic, anyway. Against every ounce of pride I had left, I placed my lips against the soles.
“That’s a good boy. You’re my good little foot bitch, aren’t you? That’s right, just—“ Her words were cut off as Marcus shoved his tongue down her throat. They kissed, groped each other, the taboo bliss of infidelity driving their passions to new heights. My lips traveled up and down his soles as tears streamed down my face. The visions returned to my mind as I kissed, clear as day: Marcus ripping off her clothes, entering her, making her moan his name, pleasing her in ways I never could. Me, standing in the corner still as the dead, my body locked in ticklish torment as another man enjoyed what used to be mine. It seemed such an obvious progression of events that I could not stop myself, the images of humiliation and cuckoldry, endless tickling, Marcus’s feet as the only thing I would ever kiss again. How easily my manhood had been stripped from me; demoted from boyfriend to ticklish, foot-kissing loser in less than an hour. As clothes began to fall on the ground, I kept kissing feet. As the moans became louder, I kept kissing feet. As my girlfriend screamed his name, gripping the back of his head while he pounded into her, I kissed feet. There was no longer any denying it: This was my life now.
—
As the days turned into months, Marcus became a more permanent fixture in our lives. His date nights with Zoe become frequent, and he started hanging around the house more. It was a rough adjustment going from Zoe’s boyfriend to a live-in tickle slave; the first few times they asked me to make them breakfast, or do their laundry, or be their foot rest while they cuddled on the couch, I did put up a bit of a fight. I told Zoe we were over, that I just wanted them out of my life, and I even tried to kick them out of my house. But after a few hours of full-body hypnosis-induced tickle torture, I was basically begging to put on the maid outfit. Wearing that frilly little skirt did make the humiliation worse, but honestly, there wasn’t much lower for me to go. After you’ve been forced to kneel at the foot of a bed, face buried in another man’s feet while he fucks the girl you love, anything was fair game. Even worse was the invisible fingers lightly dragging over my own denied cock, keeping me on the ticklish edge without ever letting me cum. My orgasms were a rare occurrence these days, doled out sparingly at the whims of another man. When I was allowed to cum, it was always with his stinking, sweaty feet in my face, so I eventually stopped asking for it. He continued to have his way with me, of course. He delighted in finding new, creative ways to ruin me even further. He regularly put me under to root around in my subconscious, planting the next humiliating subconscious impulse that would destroy my life. One day I would awake to find I couldn’t get an erection without Marcus’s permission. The next, I could only get hard by licking his feet. One particularly awful day, I felt horrible tickling all over my cock and balls unless I shoved my face directly into his hairy armpit. Imagine that—begging your worst enemy to put his pits in your face just to abate the horrible, feathery touches on your manhood. They’d leave the house to go clubbing, only to give the code phrase seconds before leaving—I’m tickling you. The door would wing shut, and while they danced the night away, using my credit card to buy bottle service, I was writhing on the ground, feeling Marcus’s ghostly fingers exploring every inch of my body.
Somehow, Zoe was even worse. She would take particular delight in teasing me, knowing full well that I couldn’t get it up, much less cum. She’d walk around the house naked, flaunting her perky breasts right in front of my face, inviting me in to touch them, only to wiggle her fingers near my pits at the last second, causing me to fall to the ground in a ticklish heap. She’d pretend to want to fuck me, putting her pussy inches from my flaccid cock, begging me to get it up. Come on, baby. She’d moan. I’m right here waiting for you. Just fuck me. You want me, right? Come inside me. Take me back from the mean tickle-monster. Through tears I would stroke myself, desperately trying to make my cock hard enough for penetration, but it was no use. Without male feet in my face, I was as chaste as a monk. After a while, she would give a big sigh. I guess you’re not up to it. You only like Marcus’s feet now, right? That’s ok. I’ll just have to have a real man tonight. I’m tickling you! As the tickling began, tears streaming down my face, she would enter the bedroom where Marcus was waiting. Don’t worry hun. I’ll come get you when we’re done. Once I’ve orgasmed a few times, you can come in and clean up, ok? She said with a wink. The door would shut, and as I listened to the moans within, the tickling would increase. Fingers in my pits, on my feet, my stomach, my cock. Denied, frustrated, humiliated and crying. The ticklish torments never did cease. I wish I could tell you that one day I broke free of all this. That I won Zoe back, overpowered Marcus, that his hypnosis eventually wore off. But I won’t lie to you; my life now consists of tickles, feet, pits, and torment. I’ve accepted that Zoe and I are over, that Marcus is my new master, even that I won’t ever feel the touch of a woman again. The words that she said to me that night have become my new reality. Some men deserve pussy, but me?
I only deserve feet.
“Yes sensei. Whatever you command.” I looked to Zoe with a wink, but she just scowled at me. Marcus seemed similarly displeased, crossing his arms in front of him like a disappointed parent.
“It’s not going to work if you don’t let it, babe.” Zoe pouted. “Don’t be a loser. Just do what he says.” My girlfriend had always been into this sort of stuff—astrology, crystals, tarot cards, and more to the point—hypnosis. I had never really bought into it. It seemed to occupy that semi-spiritual space of scams and quackery that only hippies and 20-year old studio art majors truly believed. I guess at that time, I thought I was above it all. I’d mostly play along with her, let her read my fortune, sleeping with purple-quartz under my pillow when I got a headache, stuff like that. It doesn’t mean I wouldn’t gently tease her about it, though, much to her continuous annoyance. So when her old college friend casually mentioned he was a hypnotist (I’m not kidding, that’s like, his actual job apparently), Zoe immediately volunteered herself to be his test subject. Marcus just chuckled.
“Zoe, please.” He said. “It’s my day off—don’t make me work for free, now.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Something funny?” Marcus asked. He was smiling, but I could see a twinge of annoyance in his face.
“No, I’m sorry. It’s just…” I chuckled. “Is it really, like, work? Does your arm get tired from swinging a little pocket watch around, or?”
“Babe!” The look on Zoe’s face was like I had just blasphemed in the highest degree. “Don’t be rude! Hypnotism is an art form. People use it to cure addiction, to break bad habits, even as a form of therapy. Right Marcus?” She turned to him with child-like wonder that I had to admit was a little cute.
“That’s right.” Marcus replied. “I take pride in what I do. Feels good to give back, you know.” He said this with an air of faux-humility made me giggle. Yeah, you’re a real saint. Scamming desperate people out of their money with your hocus-pocus. Great work, man. Zoe, on the other hand, was clearly taken with the whole idea. “We have a skeptic in the room, I see.” He fixed me with an icy smile.
“Yeah, not really my thing. You do you though, brother. If that’s how your bread is buttered, all power to you.” Not one to back down from a passive-aggressive contest, I shot him back a fake smile of my own. I had known this guy for all of an hour, and he was already starting to get on my nerves. He had basically ignored me thus far, just laughing with Zoe about some asinine inside jokes from the past. Here he was, in my apartment, drinking my beer, laughing with my girlfriend, putting his feet up on my coffee table. I eat my food off of that table, I like to keep it a foot-free zone. I even had to ask him to take his shoes off when he walked through the door—was this guy raised in a barn, or what?
“Well, I think it’s very cool. At least someone has a job that helps people.” My girlfriend stuck her tongue out at me, and I blew back a kiss.
“I do help people, thank you very much.” I shot back, taking a sip of my beer. Zoe just scoffed.
“You’re a financial consultant. How exactly are you helping people, again?” Her irritation was palpable.
“I help people with a bunch of money get a bunch more money. That counts.” Zoe couldn’t help but crack a smile. She rolled her eyes, but I could tell my charm was winning out. Even Marcus laughed.
“How noble of you.” I raised my glass as if to say oh, why thank you. “You know…” He eyed me up and down. “Maybe I could demonstrate tonight. If you were down.”
“Oh! Please, please, please!” Zoe squealed. “I’ve never been hypnotized before, not really. I mean, I’ve watched a few YouTube videos on it, but I think they barely worked.”
“Why don’t I hypnotize you, Jeff?” He stared right past his adoring fan, locking his eyes right on me. “Since you’re so certain it’s bullshit.” I raised my eyebrows, but he continued before I had a chance to tell him to fuck off. “See, if I hypnotize Zoe here, that won’t convince you I’m the real deal. You’d chalk it up to her pretending, or at the very best her wanting it to be real hard enough that it had some sort of placebo effect. Am I right?” I shifted in my seat as Zoe looked to me expectantly.
“I mean, yeah. I guess. No offense. I’m sure it works for people who believe in it. Probably some real benefit to that, I’d imagine.” I swirled my beer around in my hand. “Just gonna level with you though, I feel like this has the potential to be a little awkward. You’re going to try to hypnotize me, it’s not going to work, you’ll probably get all upset and tell me I somehow messed it up or something. Let’s just skip to the part where you both think I’m a stick-in-the-mud asshole and move past it, yeah?” Zoe was about to scold me again, but Marcus put up his hand.
“It’s alright, Zoe. None taken.” He smiled at me again, a genuine one this time, full of a smugness that made me want to clock him. “I propose a friendly wager, in that case. Here’s the bet: I’ll put you under. It will feel something like ‘twilight sleep’. You’ll be not quite awake, but not asleep either. Once there, I’ll plant a notion in your subconscious. Don’t worry, nothing nefarious. Just a little something to show you that I’m legit. If I get you to admit that hypnotism is real, I win. If you’re unaffected—“ He shrugged. “Then I guess I am full of shit. You can have bragging rights till the end of time.” I considered his offer.
“Not really a bet without wagering something, though, is it? 100 bucks sound good?” Might as well make some money off of this charlatan, I thought.
“That’s a little rich for my blood, Jeff. I’m on a hypnotist’s salary, remember? How about…” He pondered for a moment. “Ah. If I win, you have to give me a foot massage. I’ve been walking around all day, these guys are sore.” I cringed as he wiggled his toes at me.
“I’m not touching your feet, bro.” I said with disgust. What a freak. Why is Zoe friends with this guy?
“Jeff hates feet.” Zoe giggled. “You picked pretty much the worst thing to wager. Or like, the second worst.”
“Well, that’s sort of the point.” Marcus laughed. “The loser has to do something they don’t want to do. But I get it, man. If you’ve changed your mind about my profession, just say so. We can end this right here. You know…” He smiled linking his fingers behind his head. “Since you’re clearly scared you’d loose.” Zoe let out a goading oooooh. He was really starting to piss me off now. Phony spiritual bullshit aside, this guy was 1) much too familiar with my girlfriend, 2) arrogant as shit, and 3) not half as clever as he thought it was.
“How about this: When I win, you go on home for the night, aching feet be damned. We have ourselves a deal?” I immediately regretted saying it. Zoe looked like she wanted to kill me; I had basically just told her guest to get the fuck out of my apartment. But Marcus didn’t seem bothered in the slightest.
“Deal!” He said with no hesitation whatsoever. He clapped his hands together. “Let’s get started.” Zoe seemed thrilled, like she was about to be proven right after all these years of mockery.
“You’re gonna have to massage his feeeeeet.” She said in a sing-song voice as Marcus positioned me in my chair. I just sighed and scoffed, but did as he instructed. Well. Mostly. Besides for the sensei comment, and stuff.
“Jeff.” Marcus said impatiently. “The bet doesn’t count if you don’t give it an honest try. Follow my commands. Breath in and out. Slowly.” Seeing the look on my girlfriend’s face, I decided my best option was to comply. “Close your eyes. That’s right.” He continued, his voice taking on a softer, more intentional tone. “Five seconds in, a deep breath. Hold it. Now out. That’s perfect. Keep that rhythm going.” He went silent for a few moments as I got it down. “Good. Feel the weight of the air in your lungs as it flows, in and out. Feel your muscles contracting as the breath takes you; feel them tighten, and release. Tighten, and release.” A sense of calm began to wash over me as the minutes passed. Hey, maybe he should be a sleep therapist. I thought drearily, stifling a yawn. “You’re starting to get tired. Don’t fight that feeling. Let yourself drift off. I was vaguely aware of Marcus coming closer to me, and I even thought I heard Zoe say something. “Focus.” That word snapped my attention back to me breath. “Imagine a light at the top of your skull. It’s a warm light, a soft glow of energy. Do you feel that? Good. The light is going to travel from your head to your face, slowly, making its way down all across your body. Feel each muscle loosen as the light passes through. Wherever the light touches, that part of you is now weightless, motionless, without tension and full of warmth. Do you feel that, Jeff?” I muttered an affirmative response. I really was starting to get tired. I didn’t feel a magic light or whatever, but my limbs were starting to feel heavy, my breath seemingly coming and going without my consent. Marcus’s voice seemed different now, deeper, both quiet and loud, like he was standing right next to both of me ears, speaking directly into me. “You’re going to drift off. Drift…off.”
Drift….
….Offfff.
SNAP. The sound was deafening, and my eyes flung open.
“Jesus.” I whined. “Right in my ear, dude.” I blinked as my eyes adjusted to the lights. “I mean, congrats—you almost put me to sleep at least.” Zoe and Marcus both grinned smugly at me. He was now standing directly in front of me, his face only a few inches from my own. I scooted back on my chair with a scowl.
“Almost?” Zoe smirked. “Look at the clock, Mr. Know-it-all.” I was a little surprised to see that it was now 9:30PM, some 15 minutes after we had started. “You were out like a light, doofus. I think I heard some snoring.” She playfully punched me in the arm.
“W-wait. I didn’t—I was awake that whole time. I was just relaxed, is all.” I insisted. Maybe I had misread the clock?
“Afraid not, buddy. I put you under.” Marcus looked pleased with himself, though I imagine that’s how he looked most of the time. “It was real easy, too. You’re very susceptible.” He tussled my hair like I was a child.
“Right.” I batted away his hand angrily. “So I suppose you ‘incepted a notion in my subconscious’? What, am I going to relive my past lives now or something?” My voice dripped with sarcasm. He had done a great job of relaxing me, I had to give him that, but there was no way that shit had worked. Their reaction troubled me, though. They looked at each other with devious smiles, giggling like they were privy to another stupid inside joke at my expense.
“That’s not quite it, no.” Marcus said between chuckles. “I did plant a notion, of course. A rather strong one, as it were—again, you’re one of the most susceptible people I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with.” Marcus wrapped a friendly arm around my girlfriend, and she rested her head on his shoulder. I was about to protest, but he spoke over me. “See, Zoe said something earlier that peaked my interest. She said that massaging my feet was the only the second worse thing I could do to you, right? Soooo…” He trailed off. “Once I had you under, she and I had a little chat about the worst thing.” Even though I still didn’t believe in this shit, I couldn’t help but feel uneasy. I looked at Zoe. What did you tell him? I said with my eyes.
You’ll see. She winked back
“Hey, Jeff.” Marcus wiggled his fingers in the air. “I’m tickling you.” The sensation was immediate.
“Hehehehe-whahahaat!?” The giggles escaped my lips, forced out by the awful tingling feeling on my stomach. It was like insects were crawling on me, little fluttering legs gently brushing all over. I pulled up my shirt, expecting to find something there, but to my horror it was just my bare stomach. Save for the twitching of my abdomen, nothing was in contact. “Whahahahat the fuck! I-hahahaha!” I looked back up to Marcus in disbelief. He was still wiggling his fingers, a good three feet away, absolutely not making contact with me…but against all sense, my brain clearly perceived these touches to be real. It’s his fingers, I thought, I can feel his fingers tickling my stomach. As I struggled to wrap my head around this, panic setting in, Zoe wrapped my tormentor in an enthusiastic hug.
“Holy shit!” She exclaimed, giddy with excitement. “You did it! It really worked! The tickling hypnosis worked!” He hugged her back, holding her in a way that certainly would have started a fight if I hadn’t been so preoccupied.
“Of course it worked. I’m the real deal, remember.” He pinched her cheek before turning back to me. “So, as you might have gathered, Zoe told me about your little weakness, kiddo. Some one is a bit ticklish, huh?” My mind started to spin. I was more than a little bit ticklish. Zoe had tickled me exactly one time in our relationship, when we had first gotten together. She just playfully poked one of my armpits, wiggling her fingers for a mere second or two. I had reacted so violently that I made her promise never to do it again, confiding in her that it embarrassed me to no end how sensitive my body was. The fact that she had revealed this to such an arrogant prick was enough to make my cheeks burn red. “I implanted a simple little suggestion, really.” His hand slipped around Zoe’s waist, who either didn’t care or was so wrapped up in excitement that she didn’t notice. “When I say the code phrase, you would feel me tickling you, hands free. Anywhere I like, however long I like.” Fear started to truly set in as the ticklish sensations continued, a churning pit in my stomach. He’s controlling this? He can make me feel this without touching me? It wasn’t possible, it couldn’t be happening—and yet, as I felt his ghostly fingers probe my stomach, the horrible truth seemed to call out to me. “For example: I’m tickling your armpits.”
“WOAHAHAH FUCK!” The feeling of fingers galloping across my pits made me jump out of my seat. I flailed my arms wildly, desperately trying to halt the source of ticklish torment. It didn’t work. Wherever my armpits went, Marcus’s ticklish power followed. I even clamped my arms down hard at my sides, and yet the wiggling persisted, the unmistakable feeling of grasping, clawing, poking digits not letting up for even a second. “JEHEHESUS! W-wait, I-heheheh! No!” Zoe and Marcus laughed uncontrollably at this, almost as loud as I was. It must have been quite a pathetic sight for her to see; her big, strong boyfriend, struggling wildly against the mere thought of tickling.
“Yeah, his armpits are pretty bad.” She said, clearly enjoying herself. “Babe, you—haha! You sound like a little girl right now.” She snorted. There was an element of cruelty to her words, like she was taking her revenge for all the times I had doubted her new-age interests. Marcus looked just pleased as punch, an almost hungry expression on his face, reveling in the power he had over me.
“Are you a little girl?” Marcus sneered. “Let’s find out. Maybe your feet would like a turn, Jeffy-boy. Cootchie coo, you girly little man.” He grinned wide as my feet exploded into ticklish agony. Finger nails were raking from heel to toe, no matter that my feet were planted firmly to the floor. I picked one foot up, trying to cover it with my hand, still holding on to some vague notion that I could logic my way out of this nightmare. Scrape, scrape, scrape. Up and down the fingers went, completely unaffected my attempts to stop them.
“Ok, ok, I-hahah, I--I, Marcus, plehehehaheas man, s-stop!” The pathetic begging came pouring out of me, but it only seemed to egg the pair on.
“There are feathers between your toes.” Marcus commanded. I fell to the ground as the feeling began, fluffy bristles sawing back and forth across each digit. I howled, not even managing to get a word out. “Now there’s poking right in your pits, just like this.” He motioned with his index fingers, poking the air in front of him. “Poke, poke, poke. Riiiight in the center of your ticklish little pits. You feel that?” With each poke of his fingers, I yelped a little louder. “I’m brushing your stomach with a feather duster, the softest, most tickly duster in the world.” I covered my stomach, but it did nothing to stop the feeling of a thousand feather soft touches. “Now its on your neck. Now your ears. Now your pits. Now your feet. Now your stomach again.” They left me like that for several mote minutes; me, flailing around helplessly on the ground, gasping out pleas for mercy through shuddering laughter. Marcus and Zoe laughed all the while, mocking and taunting while I suffered.
“Wooow. So manly, darling.” Zoe cooed. “I’m really impressed by your stoic rationality right now.” She wrapped her arm around Marcus’s waist. “You deserve this, babe. Sorry. You can’t be this arrogant and this ticklish. Pick one.”
“Uh oh, buddy.” Marcus chimed in. “I think your girl likes this a little too much. Better stay on her good side from now on. You know she can use this too, right? Anyone that says the code phrase can totally wreck your shit.” The minutes continued to tick by, until tears started to form in my eyes, a million ticklish sensations raping my body from head to toe. “Stop.” As quickly as it began, the tickling halted. “That’s how I turn it off. When I say stop, the tickling ceases. Neat, huh?” I took heavy, ragged breaths. Sweat was dripping down my forehead, and I felt like I had just been through hell. I meekly looked up at Marcus, the startled look of a fearful child no doubt plastered on my face. He ate it up with relish, enjoying how easily he had snuffed my bravado.
“Well, honey? Still think it’s fake? Get those fingers ready. You’re massaging sweaty feet tonight.” Zoe stuck her tongue out at me before laughing innocently. I stared up at her as well, baffled. Did she not understand how torturous this was for me? How humiliated and afraid I was? She was acting like this was all a harmless prank, like I was totally in on the joke with her. Could she really be this dense? No, I thought bitterly, she knows. She’s just actually enjoying this. She...likes it. Something resembling fight or flight kicked in, and I shakily pushed myself to my feet.
“Get…the fuck…out.” I said, still breathing hard from the exertion. I stared daggers at Marcus, putting my hands up like I intended to fight him. His response sucked all the wind of the attempt however.
“HAHAHA! Violent! What, you gonna kick my ass, kiddo?” He chuckled.
“Get the fuck out, right now! I’m serious!” I took a step towards him, wheeling my fist back to strike—
“I’m tickling you.” It came as no more than a mere whisper, but the power it carried was immense.
“Hngh!” My arm clamped back to my side as the tickling in my pits began once more. All that masculine rage dissipated in an instant as I started squealing like a little girl once more. Zoe looked almost disgusted with me.
“Seriously? Ok, that…was kind of pathetic. Stop trying to be a tough guy, tickle-pits. Marcus would beat you up anyway. He’s way stronger than you.” She said matter-of-factly. I couldn’t tell what was worse; her cruel words, or the awful tickling. Marcus just sighed.
“I thought you would have learned your lesson by now, but alright. Suit yourself. Your socks are tickling you. They’re full of tiny little brushes, swishing back and forth.” Just as he said, the fabric of my socks was magically replaced by a flurry of ticklish brushes.
“EEEEE!” I squealed with a pitch that was three octaves higher than my normal voice. “Plehehease! Ok! OK! OK!” I ripped the socks off, throwing them across the room like they were radioactive.
“Your shirt is made of feathers. They’re stroking you everywhere the fabric touches your skin.” Pits, nipples, stomach, chest, back—his words spoke the feeling into existence. My clothes were a prison of ticklish-hell; every slight movement I made amplified the sensation, dragging soft, tickly touches over me. Now covered in hundred wiggling feathers, I was forced to desperately remove the shirt as well.
“Do his pants, too!” Zoe demanded with a glean in her eye. I looked at her, pleading for some mercy, but the I only found cruelty and enjoyment. “He tried to punch you. He needs to learn his lesson. Ticklish little wanna-be tough guys should be stripped to their underwear, right Marcus?”
“Excellent idea, Zoe. You ready?” He grinned at me.
“Wait, no!” I cried. “I’m sorry, guys. Seriously. Don’t do it.” The words were pouring out in a pathetic drivel.
“Here it cooooomes.” Zoe said softly. “Oh its going to tickle sooooo bad, honey. Think of all those feathers, on your knees, on your legs, on your butt.” She giggled. “You might piss yourself, baby.” I could already feel the tickling starting, even without the command. The rough denim on my legs started to take on a softer quality, like they were made of bristling furs. I started to squirm.
“Three. Two. O—“ I interrupted Marcus’s countdown with a screech.
“AHH!” Looping my hands into my jeans, I ripped them down to my ankles. Zoe gasped; I had just willingly exposed myself in front of another man out of fear. I struggled to pull them off of my feet, nearly falling to the floor in the process. Marcus and Zoe looked at each other for a moment, sharing a shocked glance between them—before they both burst out laughing. I suddenly became painfully aware of how exposed I was. As the fear of tickling was replaced by shame, I covered my crotch with both hands. This was the lowest moment of my life, almost naked, putting on a show for my treacherous girlfriend and her sadistic friend. They laughed on and on as I stood there, meekly covering my bulge, cheeks burning red.
“Oh. My. God. You’re pathetic.” Zoe tittered. “He didn’t even tickle you yet, loser. You’re in your little tighty-whiteys!”
“Don’t be shy, kiddo. Let’s see the goods.” Marcus said casually. Zoe looked to him with an expression I couldn’t place. Mischief? Arousal?
“What?” I stuttered.
“I want to see what all the fuss is about. What does Zoe see in you? Can’t be your personality.” He laughed. “And I know it’s not your masculinity, tickle-boy. So let’s see it, is your man packing down there?”
“I-I’m not—“ My hands wrapped tighter around my privates.
“I can make your underwear tickle you, Jeff. Let’s not make this harder than it has to be. Arms. Up.” He spoke the last words with that same even tone he used while hypnotizing me. Completely out of my control, my arms shot high into the air, raised above my head as if they were held there by invisible marionette strings. I struggled, but my arms wouldn’t obey my commands, my body now the property of another man’s will. My bulge hung there, now totally exposed for all to see.
“I may have planted a few other suggestions, big guy. Like, you have to follow my instructions. Sorry, might have forgotten to mention it.” Marcus looked down to my crotch with a smirk. “Or should I say, little guy?” My cheeks burned crimson at the remark. Perhaps due to the anxiety of the situation, my cock was as soft as it could possible be. There was barely a hint of a bulge in my underwear. Zoe looked embarrassed, even a little ticked off, as if my size reflected poorly on her. “So, it’s not his dick, either.” He continued. “What do you see in this guy, cutie?”He tussled her hair playfully. “You into tiny-dick, ticklish wimps?”
She wrinkled her nose, staring at me with disdain. “Not so much, Marcus. I guess you’re right…he is a little below average in that department.” Her words felt like a dagger piercing through my heart, stripping me of any dignity I may have had left. I hung my head in shame as the two walked closer, inspecting their handy work. “This is interesting, though.” Zoe mused, putting her face close to my naked pits. I shuddered as she drew near, my body so sensitive that even her breath on my pits was enough to tickle. “He really can’t lower his arms? Not an inch?”
“Give it a try.” Zoe cocked her head to one side, as if thinking. Then, she simply blew a little air onto my pit hollow.
“EEE!” I squealed. Even that slight gust of wind on my pit hairs was enough.
“Ugh.” She rolled her eyes. “Man the fuck up. Jesus, I didn’t even touch you. See?” She wiggled her fingers a few centimeters from my pits, not making contact, but threatening too with every moment. I burst into laughter; this wasn’t even the hypnosis at work, just the horrid anticipation of her manicured nails wrecking my pits. “I’m not touching you. Not touching you. Stop laughing. Nooooot even making contact, buddy. You’re literally laughing from not being touched. Fuck, I’m like, embarrassed to be your girlfriend right now.” She sneered.
“Stohahahap! Baby!” I pleaded. “Heeheeha! Please, get out! Get out of my pits!”
“I’m not in your pits. Not yet, at least. Prove to me you can be a man. Just stop laughing. A real man wouldn’t be begging from this. Mind over matter, right? Just lower your arms. This is all bullshit right? You should be able to lower your arms. You should be able to control yourself.”
“Keep that up, Zoe. I have an idea.” The look on Marcus’s face sent to me to new heights of paranoia. “Breath in.” As the command came, I felt my breath come in an out in arhythmic fashion, just as it had when he put me under. “Now out. Good. With each passing second, your armpits are becoming more ticklish.” Fuck. Nononono fuck. I thought. Please don’t make me more ticklish, for the love of god. Fifteen minutes ago, I wouldn’t have thought it possible, but now I was a true believer—this man could do whatever he wanted to me. “As her nails rake through the air, all the nerve endings in your body begin to concentrate. They’re moving to your armpits; every inch of your body will feel what she does to them. You’re becoming more and more ticklish now. Your feeling starts and ends right in the center of your armpits. That’s all you are right now, not a person any longer, just two ticklish pits.” I could feel his words seep into my brain, drawing every ounce of attention into the growing sensation in my underarms. “You’re so ticklish, that even the air is too much to handle. You can feel the slightest perturbation of wind on your armpits.” Exactly as he described, the feeling of the rest of my body began to fade into the background. I was suddenly hyper-aware of the draft breezing through the room, giggles escaping my mouth as it brushed gently through my pit hairs. Zoe had a mesmerized look on her face, estatic to be a part of the process. It was clear that she was drunk on the power, relishing in the fear in my eyes. “When she touches them, its going to tickle more than anything you ever felt.” Marcus continued. “It will be a feeling so intense, so all consuming, that you will do anything to make it stop.” He walked behind Zoe, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. She stopped the wiggling of her fingers.
“Marcus…” She blushed at his overt flirtation. There had been something simmering between them from the start, but now it had crossed the threshold. Neither person could deny the magnetic attraction they were feeling; the shared power of humiliating a lesser man acting as a catalyst. Who could blame him? There’s nothing more attractive than a man in charge, and with how thoroughly he had dominated me, how completely he had shown his superiority at my expense, the electric feeling of arousal started to swell up inside of her.
“Shhh.” He whispered in her ear, eliciting a small moan from her lips. “You wanted to teach him a lesson, right?” I could see the goosebumps running down her neck as he gently ran his beard across it. “Well, he’s all yours. Completely at your mercy. Look at those pits. Just begging to be punished, yes? You said it yourself: A real man could take it. Go ahead. Show him what kind of person he is.” He planted a small kiss on her cheek. She looked up at him with an expression bordering on feral, all that was morally wrong with the situation making it all the more desirable. But there was something else there, too; admiration, maybe even compassion, like she was grateful that he had given her this opportunity. And then, she turned to me. All that arousal was channeled into a vicious grin. She extended her index fingers, manicured nails filed down to a sharp point, and began slowly wiggling them towards the center of my pits, the place where all my sensation had been so maliciously concentrated. More fear than I thought was humanly possible to experience flooded my mind as they approached, knowing full well that this would be my destruction.
“Hey Jeff.” She said, moments before impact. “I’m tickling you.” With that, she plunged her fingers in. Just the tips, just barely scraping the center of my hollows—
—and it felt like a bomb had gone off inside my brain.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” I only managed to laugh for the first few seconds before I went silent, just pitiful, shuddered gasps as my entire world became tickling. It was indescribable torment, a lifetime of tickle-torture distilled down to one moment, one spot on my anatomy. Waves of ticklish electricity crashed down over me, again and again. My eyes rolled back into my head as I howled. I would have done anything to make it stop: My mind flashed with visions of submission as I tried to think of a bargaining chip. Massaging Marcus’s feet. Becoming his servant, doing his laundry and cleaning his house. Standing meekly by as he kissed my girlfriend. Licking the sweat off his soles as he fucked her, wearing a little maid outfit while I did his chores, stripping myself naked and dancing for his amusement, kissing his hairy armpits after a workout. The images rolled through my head, crisp and clear as any real memory. I tried to tell myself this was another implanted subconscious suggestion, that he had engineered the collapse of my manhood, but truth be told I had simply been pushed to the brink. I don’t know how long it went on for. Maybe minutes, maybe hours, potentially several eons. I writhed, and begged, and cried, and screamed, but nothing seemed to move Zoe, who kept her fingers nailed to my helpless armpits.
“Stop.” I shot back to reality. Zoe had withdrawn her fingers. She was standing face-to-face with Marcus, her arms now wrapped around him as well. They gazed into each others eyes as I gasped for breath, the sweat from my forehead nearly blinding me. I should have felt something, anger, betrayal, despair…but I only felt relief. I found that my arms once again responded to my commands, and they came crashing down to my sides. As I tried to piece myself to together again, Marcus spoke. He didn’t even look at me, eyes still locked on my girlfriend, face awash with pride. “Jeff. I think it’s time for that foot massage.” Zoe giggled.
That night continued, mercifully, without any more tickling. They plopped down on the couch, Marcus propping his feet up on the coffee table, my coffee table, and stripping off his socks. My hands griped the massive, sweaty size-13s, and I gave an honest try to give him the best damn massage he had ever received. So total was my submission that I didn’t even try to fight it. I didn’t even comment about how close they were sitting, his arm wrapped around her, her head resting on his chest, her fingers tracing circles on his thigh. I just kneeled there in my underwear, rubbing the disgusting feet of my mortal enemy, the man who made me his bitch without ever laying a finger on me. They mostly ignored me. In between rounds making out, they reminisced about old times. The only time they drew reference to me was to laugh at my sorry state, to comment on how pathetic it was that I was giving another man a foot massage, in my underwear, while he cuddled with my girlfriend.
“How do they smell?” Zoe asked casually. “As bad as you thought?” Marcus placed his foot on my face. I gagged, repulsed by the stench of sweat, but didn’t dare shoo him away.
“Well?” He asked, running the length of his foot up and down my face. “Pretty bad, right? Just be glad it’s not my armpits.”
“I can’t believe you’re letting this happen, baby. In your own home. Another man is touching me, aren’t you going to do something? He’s just a silly hypnotist, right?” She goaded, dripping with arousal. I had never seen this side of her, and if not for the male feet in my face, I may have been turned on myself. “Kiss it.” Zoe commanded. Her voice was stern, cold, completely devoid of affection. “Kiss his feet while I kiss him.”
“Jesus.” Marcus laughed. “You are mean. I like it.”
“N-no…please.” I whimpered. “Don’t make me.” My voice was higher pitched than usual, like I had regressed from man to boy.
“If you don’t, I’ll tell all my friends about your new…condition.” She threatened. “I’ll expose you in front of everyone. I’ll make all your clothes tickle you so bad you have to strip naked in public.” I shuddered at the thought, tears forming in my eyes. Seeing this, Zoe softened for a moment. “Oh, baby.” She cooed. “Don’t fight it. This is how it should be. Don’t you see that you deserve feet? You know I’m right. Just let it happen. This is what happens when you beg from a little tickling, right? You can’t really tell me you deserve my body after that, can you? Some men deserve pussy, but you…you’re only good enough for feet. He could just make you do it anyways. Save yourself the trouble.” The look she was giving me, an almost nurturing approval, was the closest thing to love I had felt all night, and so melted my resolve.
I couldn’t find a gap in her logic, anyway. Against every ounce of pride I had left, I placed my lips against the soles.
“That’s a good boy. You’re my good little foot bitch, aren’t you? That’s right, just—“ Her words were cut off as Marcus shoved his tongue down her throat. They kissed, groped each other, the taboo bliss of infidelity driving their passions to new heights. My lips traveled up and down his soles as tears streamed down my face. The visions returned to my mind as I kissed, clear as day: Marcus ripping off her clothes, entering her, making her moan his name, pleasing her in ways I never could. Me, standing in the corner still as the dead, my body locked in ticklish torment as another man enjoyed what used to be mine. It seemed such an obvious progression of events that I could not stop myself, the images of humiliation and cuckoldry, endless tickling, Marcus’s feet as the only thing I would ever kiss again. How easily my manhood had been stripped from me; demoted from boyfriend to ticklish, foot-kissing loser in less than an hour. As clothes began to fall on the ground, I kept kissing feet. As the moans became louder, I kept kissing feet. As my girlfriend screamed his name, gripping the back of his head while he pounded into her, I kissed feet. There was no longer any denying it: This was my life now.
—
As the days turned into months, Marcus became a more permanent fixture in our lives. His date nights with Zoe become frequent, and he started hanging around the house more. It was a rough adjustment going from Zoe’s boyfriend to a live-in tickle slave; the first few times they asked me to make them breakfast, or do their laundry, or be their foot rest while they cuddled on the couch, I did put up a bit of a fight. I told Zoe we were over, that I just wanted them out of my life, and I even tried to kick them out of my house. But after a few hours of full-body hypnosis-induced tickle torture, I was basically begging to put on the maid outfit. Wearing that frilly little skirt did make the humiliation worse, but honestly, there wasn’t much lower for me to go. After you’ve been forced to kneel at the foot of a bed, face buried in another man’s feet while he fucks the girl you love, anything was fair game. Even worse was the invisible fingers lightly dragging over my own denied cock, keeping me on the ticklish edge without ever letting me cum. My orgasms were a rare occurrence these days, doled out sparingly at the whims of another man. When I was allowed to cum, it was always with his stinking, sweaty feet in my face, so I eventually stopped asking for it. He continued to have his way with me, of course. He delighted in finding new, creative ways to ruin me even further. He regularly put me under to root around in my subconscious, planting the next humiliating subconscious impulse that would destroy my life. One day I would awake to find I couldn’t get an erection without Marcus’s permission. The next, I could only get hard by licking his feet. One particularly awful day, I felt horrible tickling all over my cock and balls unless I shoved my face directly into his hairy armpit. Imagine that—begging your worst enemy to put his pits in your face just to abate the horrible, feathery touches on your manhood. They’d leave the house to go clubbing, only to give the code phrase seconds before leaving—I’m tickling you. The door would wing shut, and while they danced the night away, using my credit card to buy bottle service, I was writhing on the ground, feeling Marcus’s ghostly fingers exploring every inch of my body.
Somehow, Zoe was even worse. She would take particular delight in teasing me, knowing full well that I couldn’t get it up, much less cum. She’d walk around the house naked, flaunting her perky breasts right in front of my face, inviting me in to touch them, only to wiggle her fingers near my pits at the last second, causing me to fall to the ground in a ticklish heap. She’d pretend to want to fuck me, putting her pussy inches from my flaccid cock, begging me to get it up. Come on, baby. She’d moan. I’m right here waiting for you. Just fuck me. You want me, right? Come inside me. Take me back from the mean tickle-monster. Through tears I would stroke myself, desperately trying to make my cock hard enough for penetration, but it was no use. Without male feet in my face, I was as chaste as a monk. After a while, she would give a big sigh. I guess you’re not up to it. You only like Marcus’s feet now, right? That’s ok. I’ll just have to have a real man tonight. I’m tickling you! As the tickling began, tears streaming down my face, she would enter the bedroom where Marcus was waiting. Don’t worry hun. I’ll come get you when we’re done. Once I’ve orgasmed a few times, you can come in and clean up, ok? She said with a wink. The door would shut, and as I listened to the moans within, the tickling would increase. Fingers in my pits, on my feet, my stomach, my cock. Denied, frustrated, humiliated and crying. The ticklish torments never did cease. I wish I could tell you that one day I broke free of all this. That I won Zoe back, overpowered Marcus, that his hypnosis eventually wore off. But I won’t lie to you; my life now consists of tickles, feet, pits, and torment. I’ve accepted that Zoe and I are over, that Marcus is my new master, even that I won’t ever feel the touch of a woman again. The words that she said to me that night have become my new reality. Some men deserve pussy, but me?
I only deserve feet.
