waterman
TMF Expert
- Joined
- Feb 11, 2006
- Messages
- 483
- Points
- 43
After leaving the world of the living, an eternity of calm, unmemorable emptiness awaited them, an endless sadness with no possibility of redemption.
But something had intervened. A higher power had decided to grant them a second chance.
And now they stood before their final test. The feat on which their salvation depended.
The Grinning Demon had informed them that “The Other” who reigned in that state of existence had forced it to grant them an escape route from its shadow realm. But it would not be a gift. They would have to prove themselves worthy of salvation by succeeding in climbing the summit of the Peak of Joy. The three unfortunate ones did not know why that purple mountain full of rocky ruggedness was named that way.
Asked about it, the Grinning Demon had enigmatically replied:
<<Everyone laughs, before they reach the top.>>
They had no choice but to attempt that feat. Mark, Lyla, and Mary Flora looked at each other. They had no clothes on but somehow sensed what they looked like when they were alive. They belonged to different human ethnicities and showed different ages, with Mary Flora undoubtedly the oldest of the group. Although they were not their physical bodies, those simulacra that had assumed their souls mirrored every characteristic of them, sense of touch included.
And they noticed this when they began their climb. The mountain's ledges were smooth, and it was easy to lose their grip. But their determination did not waver. The further they pushed upward, the more the bottom from which they had started turned into a kind of black abyss, a muddy sea of mists that seemed to be waiting for nothing more than to swallow them up, to take them back to the everlasting oscurity in which so many others before them had fulfilled their destiny.
A light breeze brushed the climbers' bodies. Mary Flora thought of how good it felt to feel a light touch again along their necks, backs, thighs and buttocks, and inwardly foretasted the salvation that awaited them at the gate.
But it could not be that simple.
Distracted by hearing mournful howls, the old woman turned her gaze to the purplish void stretching nearby, immediately regretting her own villainy. From the ethereal depths of the entities, somewhere between spectres and feline creatures with truncated and unholy smiles plastered on their faces, had made their appearance, heading toward her companions.
Mark was the first to be caught up, initially unaware of what was happening.
A shiver ran down his spine, immediately supplanted by the feeling that something slimy and silky was brushing against his skin. The lower body of that feline creature stretched out, encircling the hapless man's torso. Cleverly, that hairy python took to running along his body, enveloping him with no way out. What might have seemed a harmless embrace soon turned out to be a serious threat to the success of the venture. The rubbing of that unnatural tail began to have an unpleasant effect on poor Mark, although his reaction had a hilarious tone.
Mary Flora saw him begin to giggle, his climb becoming more and more hesitant. The sneering cat was not hurting him, but rather was passing its tail up and down along the climber's naked body, who hanging as he was from the rock face had no way of driving off his attacker.
His sweaty ebony-colored muscles seemed strained by the need to remain tense but also at the urge they had to contract to defend themselves against that treacherous rubbing.
The demon-the demon-had told them he would not harm them as they climbed the Peak of Joy. Peak of Joy...
Perhaps Mark was thinking of that name, too, when laughter began to gush out of his chest. Initially little grumbles that gave way to subdued contrite giggles.
That furry tail caressed him at all the sensitive points of his helpless body, rubbing his belly, enveloping his thighs, rubbing his member away from blood and attention from the extremities that ensured his balance.
Mary Flora produced an expression of horror, although Mark's was against it.
It had to-it had to be a terrible, unnatural tickling, worse than what one normally experienced in life. Mark was a strong, muscular man, but his lankiness did not help him against that urge to laugh wildly.
With her heart in her throat, Mary Flora turned toward the other woman, noting with horror that she too had ended up a victim of the devious attacker.
Lyla's delicate face began to twitch as the being's tail began to rub under her nose. A seemingly innocent gesture, except that at that juncture it threatened to dangerously undermine the girl's concentration. Caught up in the need to sneeze, she was forced to close her eyes just when she had to choose which rock to cling to. And so, she accidentally grabbed a crumbly ledge and found herself with one less handhold. Only one hand to support her over the void. But the demonic cat was not finished. It clung to her legs, and from its jaws stretched a forked tongue, which extended to her lower extremities. Soon those viperous protuberances expertly took to licking the feet of the helpless panicked girl.
She forcibly began to flail her legs in a vain attempt to drive away that being, which like a tick remained anchored to its female host.
<<Uh uh uh, no oh oh oh!>> she giggled as her feet suffered the merciless assault.
Mary Flora tried to banish that horrible vision from her mind and resumed her climb, faster and faster, more and more determined. Perhaps she would succeed in beating the monster to the top, and so would her companions. But the laughter that reached her ears mixed with cries of terror and calls for help made a new part of herself die, as if it had been life, every minute.
One last male cry suddenly held her back. The old woman saw her male companion gasp vainly in the air as he plummeted toward the ominous leaden blanket rising from the bowels of the mountain toward their direction.
Exploiting that weakness inherent in their human bodies, the demon counted on having won.
For a moment, the desire to get the better of that devious monster prompted Mary Flora to abandon the venture and devote herself to rescuing her companion. She could still climb back down following the safe ledges and join her female friend. Together, they could have hoisted each other along the wall and driven the demon away, being able to rely on four arms. But her hopes were soon dashed.
<<Uhuhuhu ooooh, no no, enough enough enough aaaaaah!>>
Lyla's forced laughter stopped only when, giving in to the impulse to chase away the demonic cat, she lost her proper foothold and plummeted toward the meandering purple cloud that by now had covered half the mountain and showed no sign of wanting to stop.
She had been unable to do anything for her companions, but she could at least save herself. All the energy she had been unable to help them flowed down her arms and legs, giving her a strength she did not believe she possessed. Like a monkey she continued to advance vertically, clinging easily to every rocky hollow. The cloud seemed farther away and the summit closer and closer.
Now she could finally see the peak of the mountain! A few more efforts and salvation would greet her. Driven by haste she put her foot down, losing an inferior foothold. It was not that however that would stop her, but another threat.
They looked like sharp little spikes resting along the edge of her body, but they were claws, claws of a feline beast whose unnatural smile was growing wider and wider.
<<Whooaah! Ahahaha! Aaaaah!>> shouted Mary Flora as soon as she felt the assault on her armpits.
It was certainly not the first time someone tickled her, she remembered the playful battles with her husband, with her grandchildren, but this time was different. She was suspended in the void, clinging to two slender rock ledges, with the spirit entity crouched on her back, its claws intent on scratching the hollows of her arms.
The tickling was targeted, light but relentless, focused on the center of her armpits, frantic to exploit the weakness of the physical simulacrum that made up her body.
<<Let go aha ah aha stop bast ah ah rd! Ahahahahahah!>>
Her heart was pumping wildly. She should have screamed in terror at the risk she was taking but she could not stop laughing.
Big tears gushed from her eyes. That feeling of vulnerability was an indescribable torment. Her muscles were losing precision, her arms instead of clinging even tighter were doing everything they could to let go and hurry to defend the area under attack.
<<It's nothing but tickling, it can't do anything to you! Go on, go on!>> she repeated herself, in vain, to give herself strength.
The monster increased its speed, continuing to torture the woman's armpits with one paw, her hips with the other. Driven progressively to delirium, Mary Flora screamed and laughed, screamed and cried.
As a last move dictated by desperation, she turned around suddenly, attempting to strike the monster by surprise with a fist, but it was waiting for nothing else.
Easily dodging the blow, he got to the height of her torso and, with a very quick gesture, quickly scratched with his paw the armpit of her left arm with which she was holding on to the rock wall. Taken aback by that instinctive tickling, Mary Flora instinctively closed her arms, thus losing the only way she had to hold herself firmly anchored to the mountain.
And, as she plummeted toward the void, she swore she could hear a voice, warm and hissing, whispering in her head:
<<Everyone laughs, before they reach the top.>>
But something had intervened. A higher power had decided to grant them a second chance.
And now they stood before their final test. The feat on which their salvation depended.
The Grinning Demon had informed them that “The Other” who reigned in that state of existence had forced it to grant them an escape route from its shadow realm. But it would not be a gift. They would have to prove themselves worthy of salvation by succeeding in climbing the summit of the Peak of Joy. The three unfortunate ones did not know why that purple mountain full of rocky ruggedness was named that way.
Asked about it, the Grinning Demon had enigmatically replied:
<<Everyone laughs, before they reach the top.>>
They had no choice but to attempt that feat. Mark, Lyla, and Mary Flora looked at each other. They had no clothes on but somehow sensed what they looked like when they were alive. They belonged to different human ethnicities and showed different ages, with Mary Flora undoubtedly the oldest of the group. Although they were not their physical bodies, those simulacra that had assumed their souls mirrored every characteristic of them, sense of touch included.
And they noticed this when they began their climb. The mountain's ledges were smooth, and it was easy to lose their grip. But their determination did not waver. The further they pushed upward, the more the bottom from which they had started turned into a kind of black abyss, a muddy sea of mists that seemed to be waiting for nothing more than to swallow them up, to take them back to the everlasting oscurity in which so many others before them had fulfilled their destiny.
A light breeze brushed the climbers' bodies. Mary Flora thought of how good it felt to feel a light touch again along their necks, backs, thighs and buttocks, and inwardly foretasted the salvation that awaited them at the gate.
But it could not be that simple.
Distracted by hearing mournful howls, the old woman turned her gaze to the purplish void stretching nearby, immediately regretting her own villainy. From the ethereal depths of the entities, somewhere between spectres and feline creatures with truncated and unholy smiles plastered on their faces, had made their appearance, heading toward her companions.
Mark was the first to be caught up, initially unaware of what was happening.
A shiver ran down his spine, immediately supplanted by the feeling that something slimy and silky was brushing against his skin. The lower body of that feline creature stretched out, encircling the hapless man's torso. Cleverly, that hairy python took to running along his body, enveloping him with no way out. What might have seemed a harmless embrace soon turned out to be a serious threat to the success of the venture. The rubbing of that unnatural tail began to have an unpleasant effect on poor Mark, although his reaction had a hilarious tone.
Mary Flora saw him begin to giggle, his climb becoming more and more hesitant. The sneering cat was not hurting him, but rather was passing its tail up and down along the climber's naked body, who hanging as he was from the rock face had no way of driving off his attacker.
His sweaty ebony-colored muscles seemed strained by the need to remain tense but also at the urge they had to contract to defend themselves against that treacherous rubbing.
The demon-the demon-had told them he would not harm them as they climbed the Peak of Joy. Peak of Joy...
Perhaps Mark was thinking of that name, too, when laughter began to gush out of his chest. Initially little grumbles that gave way to subdued contrite giggles.
That furry tail caressed him at all the sensitive points of his helpless body, rubbing his belly, enveloping his thighs, rubbing his member away from blood and attention from the extremities that ensured his balance.
Mary Flora produced an expression of horror, although Mark's was against it.
It had to-it had to be a terrible, unnatural tickling, worse than what one normally experienced in life. Mark was a strong, muscular man, but his lankiness did not help him against that urge to laugh wildly.
With her heart in her throat, Mary Flora turned toward the other woman, noting with horror that she too had ended up a victim of the devious attacker.
Lyla's delicate face began to twitch as the being's tail began to rub under her nose. A seemingly innocent gesture, except that at that juncture it threatened to dangerously undermine the girl's concentration. Caught up in the need to sneeze, she was forced to close her eyes just when she had to choose which rock to cling to. And so, she accidentally grabbed a crumbly ledge and found herself with one less handhold. Only one hand to support her over the void. But the demonic cat was not finished. It clung to her legs, and from its jaws stretched a forked tongue, which extended to her lower extremities. Soon those viperous protuberances expertly took to licking the feet of the helpless panicked girl.
She forcibly began to flail her legs in a vain attempt to drive away that being, which like a tick remained anchored to its female host.
<<Uh uh uh, no oh oh oh!>> she giggled as her feet suffered the merciless assault.
Mary Flora tried to banish that horrible vision from her mind and resumed her climb, faster and faster, more and more determined. Perhaps she would succeed in beating the monster to the top, and so would her companions. But the laughter that reached her ears mixed with cries of terror and calls for help made a new part of herself die, as if it had been life, every minute.
One last male cry suddenly held her back. The old woman saw her male companion gasp vainly in the air as he plummeted toward the ominous leaden blanket rising from the bowels of the mountain toward their direction.
Exploiting that weakness inherent in their human bodies, the demon counted on having won.
For a moment, the desire to get the better of that devious monster prompted Mary Flora to abandon the venture and devote herself to rescuing her companion. She could still climb back down following the safe ledges and join her female friend. Together, they could have hoisted each other along the wall and driven the demon away, being able to rely on four arms. But her hopes were soon dashed.
<<Uhuhuhu ooooh, no no, enough enough enough aaaaaah!>>
Lyla's forced laughter stopped only when, giving in to the impulse to chase away the demonic cat, she lost her proper foothold and plummeted toward the meandering purple cloud that by now had covered half the mountain and showed no sign of wanting to stop.
She had been unable to do anything for her companions, but she could at least save herself. All the energy she had been unable to help them flowed down her arms and legs, giving her a strength she did not believe she possessed. Like a monkey she continued to advance vertically, clinging easily to every rocky hollow. The cloud seemed farther away and the summit closer and closer.
Now she could finally see the peak of the mountain! A few more efforts and salvation would greet her. Driven by haste she put her foot down, losing an inferior foothold. It was not that however that would stop her, but another threat.
They looked like sharp little spikes resting along the edge of her body, but they were claws, claws of a feline beast whose unnatural smile was growing wider and wider.
<<Whooaah! Ahahaha! Aaaaah!>> shouted Mary Flora as soon as she felt the assault on her armpits.
It was certainly not the first time someone tickled her, she remembered the playful battles with her husband, with her grandchildren, but this time was different. She was suspended in the void, clinging to two slender rock ledges, with the spirit entity crouched on her back, its claws intent on scratching the hollows of her arms.
The tickling was targeted, light but relentless, focused on the center of her armpits, frantic to exploit the weakness of the physical simulacrum that made up her body.
<<Let go aha ah aha stop bast ah ah rd! Ahahahahahah!>>
Her heart was pumping wildly. She should have screamed in terror at the risk she was taking but she could not stop laughing.
Big tears gushed from her eyes. That feeling of vulnerability was an indescribable torment. Her muscles were losing precision, her arms instead of clinging even tighter were doing everything they could to let go and hurry to defend the area under attack.
<<It's nothing but tickling, it can't do anything to you! Go on, go on!>> she repeated herself, in vain, to give herself strength.
The monster increased its speed, continuing to torture the woman's armpits with one paw, her hips with the other. Driven progressively to delirium, Mary Flora screamed and laughed, screamed and cried.
As a last move dictated by desperation, she turned around suddenly, attempting to strike the monster by surprise with a fist, but it was waiting for nothing else.
Easily dodging the blow, he got to the height of her torso and, with a very quick gesture, quickly scratched with his paw the armpit of her left arm with which she was holding on to the rock wall. Taken aback by that instinctive tickling, Mary Flora instinctively closed her arms, thus losing the only way she had to hold herself firmly anchored to the mountain.
And, as she plummeted toward the void, she swore she could hear a voice, warm and hissing, whispering in her head:
<<Everyone laughs, before they reach the top.>>
