What if...there was a real place called "Tickle City"??? Well, that thought's given me numerous ideas for what would go on there, in a metropolis devoted to our peculiar interest.
CHAPTER 3- (No, I haven't written Chapter 1 or 2 yet)
The Stenographer
Gotta not laugh! Gotta hold it in! She's brushing my helpless feet with a feather duster, it's not that intense yet but if I crack, she'll start typing and then I'm done for!
"Come on" she teases "that's it, you can't hold out forever!"
My situation? I'm strapped into a very retro-looking torture device like the guts of a giant typewriter, oily arms and springs everywhere, controlled from a small metal console just in front of me. My tormentor is a very professional looking young-ish woman who's come out from behind her desk to "get me started".
Once I start laughing, even the slightest bit, she will begin typing on her infernal machine. Each letter she types, each combination of letters and words will activate the arms of this machine... tickling me beyond endurance...
"Ah!" I blurt out, involuntarily. Oh No!!
"Oh good!" She grins, takes her seat at the controls (OMG MY controls now! In a sense she controls ME!!) and types "Ah!"
Immediately, a few arms of the machine assault me, ribs and toes first...
"Please!" I gasp "A hahaha..."
She types my exact words "Please! A hahaha..." and more arms activate- ribs, toes, feet, soles, navel- some mechanical arms have little moving fingers, others feathers, scratchers, brushes, who-cares-what-else, it all tickles insanely, and unless I can keep silent I'm DOOMED!
Partial Transcript-
"A hahahaha please no (gasp!) Not there! Oh hohoho nooooooo... Please Ahahahahahaha.... x x x x Not--No-hott-no ahahahahaha (gasp) Stop! Stop it pleeeease! AAAaaaaaaa...."
The arms and hands and feathers all move in reaction to my words, my gasps and pleas, but I'm helpless to stop. It's a reflex, it's beyond my control! I writhe naked like that, pleading and begging for an eternity...
"Please! Hahaha..Ju-hust a little (gasp) Bree-hee-ther.. hoo hoo hahaha Pleeeease!!!" Type type, click click...
It eases for a few seconds every time she pauses for a sip of coffee, but then she has to type faster to get caught up, and I'm in agony once again...
"Nooooo...hahahaha...Stop it! Haha Sto-ho-hopittno pleasseee Haaaaaahahahah (gasp) Aaaaaaaaaaahhh! Hoooo! hoo hoo (gasping, panting) N-no! Ha ha ha ha ha ha.....Anything but that! Oh no! not-ha ha ha-Not there he he heheeeheheeeee...Please!..." clickety-click, type type type... and on it goes...
(READER, USE YOUR IMAGINATION HERE....This goes on for a while)
Finally I'm spent- totally spent, the laughter won't come anymore and I'm about to pass out. She stops, releases me from the machine, and an aide helps my limp body onto the couch out in the waiting room.
"Your transcript will be ready in about 20 minutes" my torturer announces..."We have a special this week- you get a framed printout of the first transcript page at no extra cost! Will Sir be using cash or credit to pay this time?"
I can barely talk, I just hold out my Tickle City One debit card, and collapse into the comfy sofa cushions.... (Hey, it keeps our economy going!)
CHAPTER 3- (No, I haven't written Chapter 1 or 2 yet)
The Stenographer
Gotta not laugh! Gotta hold it in! She's brushing my helpless feet with a feather duster, it's not that intense yet but if I crack, she'll start typing and then I'm done for!
"Come on" she teases "that's it, you can't hold out forever!"
My situation? I'm strapped into a very retro-looking torture device like the guts of a giant typewriter, oily arms and springs everywhere, controlled from a small metal console just in front of me. My tormentor is a very professional looking young-ish woman who's come out from behind her desk to "get me started".
Once I start laughing, even the slightest bit, she will begin typing on her infernal machine. Each letter she types, each combination of letters and words will activate the arms of this machine... tickling me beyond endurance...
"Ah!" I blurt out, involuntarily. Oh No!!
"Oh good!" She grins, takes her seat at the controls (OMG MY controls now! In a sense she controls ME!!) and types "Ah!"
Immediately, a few arms of the machine assault me, ribs and toes first...
"Please!" I gasp "A hahaha..."
She types my exact words "Please! A hahaha..." and more arms activate- ribs, toes, feet, soles, navel- some mechanical arms have little moving fingers, others feathers, scratchers, brushes, who-cares-what-else, it all tickles insanely, and unless I can keep silent I'm DOOMED!
Partial Transcript-
"A hahahaha please no (gasp!) Not there! Oh hohoho nooooooo... Please Ahahahahahaha.... x x x x Not--No-hott-no ahahahahaha (gasp) Stop! Stop it pleeeease! AAAaaaaaaa...."
The arms and hands and feathers all move in reaction to my words, my gasps and pleas, but I'm helpless to stop. It's a reflex, it's beyond my control! I writhe naked like that, pleading and begging for an eternity...
"Please! Hahaha..Ju-hust a little (gasp) Bree-hee-ther.. hoo hoo hahaha Pleeeease!!!" Type type, click click...
It eases for a few seconds every time she pauses for a sip of coffee, but then she has to type faster to get caught up, and I'm in agony once again...
"Nooooo...hahahaha...Stop it! Haha Sto-ho-hopittno pleasseee Haaaaaahahahah (gasp) Aaaaaaaaaaahhh! Hoooo! hoo hoo (gasping, panting) N-no! Ha ha ha ha ha ha.....Anything but that! Oh no! not-ha ha ha-Not there he he heheeeheheeeee...Please!..." clickety-click, type type type... and on it goes...
(READER, USE YOUR IMAGINATION HERE....This goes on for a while)
Finally I'm spent- totally spent, the laughter won't come anymore and I'm about to pass out. She stops, releases me from the machine, and an aide helps my limp body onto the couch out in the waiting room.
"Your transcript will be ready in about 20 minutes" my torturer announces..."We have a special this week- you get a framed printout of the first transcript page at no extra cost! Will Sir be using cash or credit to pay this time?"
I can barely talk, I just hold out my Tickle City One debit card, and collapse into the comfy sofa cushions.... (Hey, it keeps our economy going!)
