Spooktober Part 2/4 - House of Mirrors (Patreon)

The house of mirrors is a staple of any halloween attraction. Mysterious mazes of rides and stalls that seem to pop up overnight in the month of October - nobody knows where they come from, but just the same, nobody can resist the amber glow of pumpkins grinning in the gateway and the whirling squeal of carnival music, drawing them in to get lost in the maze of bright colours and whirling lights and the sweet smell of cotton candy.

Stumbling from stall to stall, ear-stuffing clamour surrounding you at all sides, it's easy to wind up somewhere they didn't intend to go. One second they're watching balloons swell and bob at a water pistol game, then suddenly they're standing in the doorway of a neon-lit mirror maze. Its quietness and stillness are like an island in the sea of bright flashing lights and braying ride-assistants. Without thinking, they might even head inside.

Inside, the din of the halloween carnival is like a foggy memory, like the faint idea of a lost belonging's whereabouts. The walls are covered in mirrors, forming a zig-zagging labyrinth of reflections, thousands of iterations of the trespasser all equally bewildered. The mirrors twist and distort, faint whispers are heard deep within the maze, the intrepid explorer searches deeper, deeper...

Glass tinted red, pink, green, blue, seemingly ebbing and thrumming like a heartbeat. Some mirrors are bent and warped to distort the reflection within, transfixing the carnival-goers with strange image of themselves, moulded like putty by the mirror's whim. When the reflections begin to murmur, they barely even notice.

"Shhh... aren't the colours soooo pretty? Come take a close look... so pretty and colourful... watch them change and dance... don't they make you feel warm? So warm in here, I need to take off my clothes... mmm, that feels better, don't you wish you were nice and cool too? Nice and cool and light... that's it... deeper, deeper... let the cool air tickle that skin...."

Deeper, deeper.

Even with their minds full of fog, the mirror's prey can still feel the tickling. Fingers dancing over their skin as their hands seem to move on their own - whose hands? There's so many, so many hands, so hard to keep track of... might as well just give up on trying to count the hands and lean in, let the giggles flow out, let the colours and pretty lights seep into their minds, leaving nothing but happy giggles and mind-numbing arousal.

"Sooo cute and wet, so pretty~ Isn't your tummy so ticklish? Don't you loooove being tickled? It must feel so good to giggle like this, and wriggle and squirm, you're so wet, it must be turning you on so much, what a good tickle pet! I bet you'd love to be tickled more, for a nice long time... that's it... relax... and giggle..."

People go missing in the house of mirrors. Not for long; they usually pop up about ten minutes or so after they've headed in. This confuses them; all those who come out swear they could've been in there for hours, but few will say what exactly happened, blushing too hard to explain. Something happened in there.

Something that made them permanently ten times as ticklish as they went in.

Something that conditioned them to get head-dizzyingly horny when they even hear the word 'tickle'.

Something that sends them into a trance if they're tickled from now on; a desperately horny state of ticklish hypnosis that turns every ticklish touch into body-wracking pleasure.

Deep, deep, deeper, deeper.