June Rewards 1/4 (Summer Fun) - Life's a Beach (Patreon)

"Snzz... w... so warm... lovely and... snzzz... wait- huh?"

Mae wakes up with a start, feeling the foam of the ocean lick at the sun-cracked heels of her feet. How long has she been asleep-?! The sun is already slipping down past the horizon line, dyeing the sky a fruity raspberry pink. There are very few clouds, but the moon is dim and barely visible, blinking in the softening light.

"H-hey! Charlie? Sam? ... Kris...?"

She calls out, slowly adjusting to consciousness, snapping out of her sun-induced dreams. What time is it? She came down to meditate at six! Just after supper with the gang! Surely they'd be worried - well, Charlie at least, always the paranoiac of the group - but she had to get back to the cottage they were all renting before someone got frightened!

... Mae realised she couldn't move.

"What the-?!"

Sand, tight-packed, hugged her frame. Two mounds cartoonishly mimicked her chest, making her cheeks flush red; who did this? She could just about move her torso within the prison built around her, but only a half-inch one way or the other, and she couldn't make up the torque to break out: her ankles were pinned firmly. The sand was piled even higher, made heavier by a fine coat of water, almost cementing it to her calves. Her feet were free, though; she could see her toes wiggling over the top of the mound.

Cool air danced across her soles. They faced the open sea, blushing under the gaze of the waves, sweating slightly in the dusky warmth.

"H-hey, guys? Th- this is pretty funny, but you should-!"

The sea bubbled. Mae looked around, increasingly frantic.

"Y- you guys should let me out s- soon! You've had your laughs, but- um-!"

Frothy, the tide ebbed and twitched. It wasn't coming in; she knew the beach was dramatically inclined, rolling dunes forming a valley to the pretty cobbled streets of the village, just like how her sandy 'breasts' created a valley to her helpless wiggling toes.

But something was definitely down there. In the water. Swirling. Subtle.

"H- hello...?"

Mae squeaked as something prodded her foot. She couldn't see anything there, only the flash of her toes vanishing from sight as they reflexively curled to protect her arches. The sand was soft, a natural exfoliant; a day of playing volleyball and tickle-tag had scrubbed her feet to a sensitive, supple perfection. Another gentle prod. Another squeak.

"P- please- whoever's back there, you- you-!"

She let out a squeal that turned into a laugh as something glided down her sole, running heel to toe swiftly without tiring. Her heart raced - no, nonono, she was too ticklish for this, to be completely helpless with someone or someTHING poking around her peds! Being pinned and having her belly tickled by her friends, or even having her girlfriend goose her ribs as they kissed, that was fine, but nobody ever went for her feet - even the thought of it was driving her insane!

She kept them in socks, usually, nice and thick, but the beach was far too warm to walk around besock'ed. The socks also ensured that her feet were never exposed to the harsher elements, therefore continually sensitive and sweet; even the touch of the fine, silky sand was nearly too much for her. Good thing nobody had noticed... or so she'd thought.

"Ple-he-hease be nice! They're- EEK! They're too ticklish! B- be ni-hi-HI-ice!"

Whatever was tickling her didn't listen, or didn't hear. Something stiff and rubbery, yielding like the springy cool touch of a waterbed, tested the plushness of her other foot. Giggles forced their way out of her chest as something harder scratched at her arch, like a quill or a pen, drawing long wavy lines along the warm creased skin. Her toes spasmed as she tossed her head back, cushioned by her rolled-up yoga mat.

"Wh- what are you do-ho-ho-ing? Not my fe-he-he-eet! Who a-ha-are you?!"

It didn't reply - well, not verbally. Maybe the gentle swipe of a feather was a means of responding? Replying to her giggling and squeals by continuing to explore her defenseless feet? The fluffy barbs split against her sole, drawing high-pitched whimpers as she thrashed within her sandy coccoon. The rubbery digits continued to massage up and down her feet, slipping around them to play with the tops of such peds, dancing up and down, seemingly relishing in her peals of laughter. And then-

"W- wha-?!"

The sensation of- sucking?! Like a hickey, lips fluttering against the ball of her foot, lovingly. And it tickled, it tickled far too much, she tried to pull her ankles into the miniature dune they were ensnared in, to no avail! Long strokes, firm, coupled with feather-flutters and sucking kisses that ended with ticklish raspberry POPS.

Tentacles...?

"Ohmygod what are you- WAIT-!"

Her questioning was cut off by a shriek as a feather played between her toes. If she didn't think it could get worse, she was wrong - the torture only increased tenfold as one of those soft, pliable points squirmed its way between her big and second toes, scribble-scribble-scratching at the hyper-sensitive skin there. Trying to curl her toes to stop the torment was out of the question, as a tendril - she could see it over the mound, pink and glistening like a soft, kissable lip - wrapped around her big toe and held it back, punishing her attempts to flee by laving at the precious stem.

"N- NHAHAHA! MERCY! MERCY-IHIHI! I GIVE! I GIVE! IT TI- HIHIHI-! TICKLES-! PLEHEHEASE-!"

Something had filled the air, beside the sound of rushing waves and screaming laughs. A humming. Low, harmonic. Muffled, as if by the gently foaming waves. Like the sound of singing glass.

"Mae?"

And then something else.

"Mae-Mae? Where are ya?"

Hoarsely, Mae tried to giggle out an indication, but all that she could muster was a weak snort of laughter. The tendrils relinquished their grip on her toes, and she panted for breath, assuming herself saved - the monster had had enough, it'd drunk its fill.

The tip of the feather was still moving. Mae trembled.

It was't tickling, though. It was... writing?

The tentacle tucked the feather between Mae's toes, giving her left arch one last sucker-kiss goodbye before slinking below the waves. Mae immediately knew what the creature had written, and her blood pumped like liquid lightning: messy, a sloppy facsimile of human script, learned over years of careful covetous observing, but legible.

♥ TICKLE ME! ♥