Naughty November Part 2/4 - The Coming of the Tickle God (Patreon)

Every century, when the sky turns pink and the moon blushes brightly, the great Tickle God H'utrajik awakens, ready to spread their seed. A new legion of tickle monsters will spring forth from their chosen vessel, birthed in a great ticklish burst after a nine-month pregnancy ritual. They will wreak havoc on the world and, in turn, breed to grow their numbers, overwhelming the humans in ticklish droves.

But first, the vessel must be chosen, and the impregnation ritual must take place.

A strong vessel is needed to carry H'utrajik's seed. Fertile, pure of heart, sweet of laugh, and most importantly, very very ticklish. Volunteers are tested rigorously - tied down, tickled with feathers and fingers, trained to withstand the hours of tickling in store. Eventually, a vessel is picked. Usually - but not always - a young woman.

She is then trained to be able to finish while being tickled, to focus on the pleasure of being fucked and not on the excruciating skitter of fluffy toys up and down her body. She needs to be able to climax during the ordeal, and accept the tickle god's power into her womb to fertilise her with their young. It takes days of torture before she's ready, but when the time comes, she will be thankful - better for the Temple of H'utrajik to teach her to ticklegasm than to have the god themselves tickle-edge her for hours.

Finally, when she's prepared, she waits. In the temple, on her knees, bowing her head.

"Great Tickle God H'utrajik, I am ready. Let me bear your army. Let me appease your hungry fingers."

The god appears in a rose-scented crash, unwinding their huge, coiling body from the ceiling like a giant snake eyeing up prey. Their eyes size her up. Gulping, she can see three hard lengths, dripping with excitement, as feathery as the rest of its form. This is purely business. This is what she's been waiting for. But she can feel herself get desperate already - she needs to take the deity's power. Now.

Nothing, not the hours of tickling and training, nothing could have prepared her for the ordeal ahead of her. Every inch of their body, even their gaze tickles her. Each nerve ending catches fire. Fluffy fingertips pinch and squeeze her nipples. They're not even trying to tickle her. When they try, she quickly learns how ticklish she can be, and it's maddening - she quickly learns to appreciate the phrase tickled to insanity.

They slowly plunges one of their three members into her tight, wet, needy hole. Even that tickles - she never thought she could be ticklish on the inside, but it's almost too much to take - so, so good, tickling each delicate spot, tearing the moaning laughs from her body as she arcs away from their inescapable ticklish touch. The more she squirms, the more she fucks herself. The more she squirms, the deeper she sinks onto them.

There are still two more to fit in there. And they're all going in. Either that will break her, or the tickling will, but she'll break. She'll break, and she'll beg for more.

Everyone told her she was doing this for the greater good, for some honorable, noble, dignified cause - but there's nothing dignified about being turned into a god's tickle-tortured cocksleeve.

And she loves it.

She loves H'utrajik.

Hail H'utrajik, the Great Tickle God.