Ticklish Inspiration - F/M (Patreon)

“I have you now, Protector Pete!” declared the aged, witchy villainess, Madam Lucia. She grinned smugly, flowing locks of her blackened crown pouring down her back as she walked with clicking steps throughout her dark castle lair. Fiery torches blazed against the walls. Chains dangled from the ceiling, the scene below being watched over by a squirming concentration of bats. The young hero, Protector Pete, wriggled in a device as medieval as it was crude and uncomfortable, trapped by the devilish sorceress who had come to be one of his most frequent adversaries.

“You’ll never get away with this, Madam Lucia!” Protector Pete grunted. The young superhero tossed his head side to side as he struggled in the device in which Madam Lucia had him trapped. He grunted and strained, his incredible strength weakened by the Siphys lamps hanging by his sides. The contraption was a simple torture rack, fortified with Madam Lucia’s own power-sapping magic that left the boy struggling to free himself. His wrists were kept as far over his head as his arms could stretch. His ankles were shackled in a pair of wooden stocks pulling in the other direction. Peter Nelson struggled with all the might that Crystal of Gargax gave him to turn him into the brave hero known as Protector Pete, but found much of that additional strength being drained from him more and more by the second.

“Oh, but I already have,” Madam Lucia said. She wore a long, dark purple cloak with a shade of lipstick to match. She was an older woman who, despite often being called a ‘hag’ by Peter and his allies, was still quite alluring in appearances. She held herself strong and assured, now that she had her nemesis in her grasp. She smiled as she walked around the boy, squirming in her own personal dungeon. “Don’t you see, Protector Pete? You have lost. Now there’s nothing keeping me from charming every last person in Hamleton into becoming my slaves for all time!” 

“You’re wrong!” Protector Pete shouted. “Once my friends find out where you are, you and your evil plans are toast!” Lucia recoiled and thought for a moment.

“Ah yes, the rest of the Righteous Brigade,” Lucia said sourly. “I’ll have to prepare for their intrusion as well. I suppose you will know exactly what their weaknesses are too…”

“Like I’d ever tell you, Madam Lose-ia,” Protector Pete said snarkily. The boy watched and expected Lucia’s smirk to fade only to be met with a cold dread as he watched it grow across her lips. 

“Oh, but you will,” Madam Lucia said. “You’re going to tell me all of your friends’ secrets. Each and every one of them.” She walked closer, looking over the squirming boy.

“You’ll never get anything out of me, witch!” Pete said as he continued to pull at his binds. “I don’t care what you do to me, you’ll never get me to tell you anything!”

“We’ll just see about that,” Madam Lucia said, her confidence beaming. She walked around the young man where he laid wriggling in her trap, her heels clicking against the stone floor beneath her. “You know, my magic is all around us here, and the Siphys lamps are sapping you of your power. It’s only a matter of time before all that is mine to command. In the meantime, I could enter your mind and twist your thoughts to control your every move. I could break you with mystic tortures more horrible than you could ever conceive. But there is one particular torture I happen to prefer, one that I just know will work wonders on you and your… current disposition.”

“Do your worst, Madam Lucia!” Protector Pete shouted. “No matter what you do, you’ll never get me to betray my friends!” 

“You may regret that, Peter,” Lucia said. She stopped down at the far end of the contraption. She waved one hand over his sneakers, sending a small but dense purple cloud around them. When the cloud dispersed within seconds, Pete’s sneakers and socks were gone, leaving behind only his bare feet trapped inside the stocks. Pete looked down with a brief expression of horror, seeing his feet bared before the woman. He swallowed and quickly recoiled, shakingly forcing a more brave look.

“Is… is that supposed to scare me, w-witch?” Pete asked, his voice beginning to tremble nervously. Lucia’s eyes feasted on the sight of Peter’s bare feet, locked within her stocks. She grinned, her hands raising and fingers excitedly wiggling in the air. 

“We’ll just have to see how well this particular treatment works on you,” Lucia said. She held out her hand and produced another puff of smoke. As it cleared, a stiff, shimmering feather was left over, the quill pinched between her fingers and thumb. Peter’s eyes widened as he witnessed the feather, a drop of sweat forming against the side of his face. “But I suspect that it will be more than enough to get you to divulge every secret you’ve ever had.” 

Madam Lucia chuckled with sinister pride. She lowered the feather down to Pete’s bare sole, beginning to stroke it up his heel to the base of his toes. Protector Pete’s expression of horror darkened as he squirmed, unable to do anything to save himself from the ticklish fate. He clenched up and shook his head, only beginning to submit to laughter when the feathery tool brushes up and down the length of his sole, proving to be a constant in the witch’s torture. The boy squealed as he fought back the giggles, laughter that quickly deepened into a sound of forced mirth.

“No!” Protector Pete said. “No, not my feet! Anything but my fee-eeeeehhhhehehhahahahahahahahahaaa!!” Protector Pete howled. Madam Lucia snickered. She ran the feather all over the boy’s delicate, bare sole again and again, her expression gleeful at the hero’s ticklish torment. With the slightest of effort, she induced upon him a hysteria that left his body thrashing in his binds. His arms and legs pulled at the devices that held them apart. Pete’s face contorted into manic hysteria, the tickles flushing up and through his tender senses. The witch snickered as she teased the boy’s dwindling composure, able to break down the strong and brave hero so easily. 

“Awww, what’s the matter, Protector Pete?” Madam Lucia taunted. “Too ticklish for your own good. Heh heh, coochie coochie coo…” The feather fluffed up and down, over and over again. Its mystically charged fibers reached all over Pete’s helpless sole, plunging each and every nerve they encountered into an absolute ticklish abyss with every swipe. Pete’s heroic composure rapidly deteriorated with wild, ticklish laughter, reducing his image into one of a hopeless, flailing captive whose ticklish senses were all Lucia’s with which to play. 

“Noooaaaaahhhahhahahahahahahaaa!!” Peter screamed with laughter. Lucia continued swiping the feather up and down his soft, captured sole. Pete tossed his head side to side, trickles of sweat beading around his temples. The boy, once a strong and gallant hero, had been reduced to desperate fits of laughter with just a few strokes from Lucia’s magical feather. The witch snickered as she tickled the fallen hero’s bound sole with minimal effort. Lucia smiled smugly and laughed along with the hero’s ticklish display. 

“Ticklish Pete and his ticklish feet!” Lucia laughed. “The mighty hero brought down with the mere swipe of a single feather. Tickle tickle, my ticklish little tootsies!” The boy squirmed within the cuffs that held him down. He squeaked with boyish laughter, his face darkening several shades of red beneath beds of freckles across his cheeks. Reduced from a notable hero to a giggling mess of ticklish nerves, Protector Pete cried out with desperate laughter, unable to save himself from the gentle and devastating licks of the feather.

“Neeaaaaahahahahahahaaa!! Naahahahahahahat my feet!! Pleeehehhahahahahahseee!!” Protector Pete begged. His feet remained pulled back at the bottom of the rack, twitching slightly as the feather continued to tease his vulnerable sole. Madam Lucia snickered. She reveled in her victory over her nemesis almost as much as she savored the boy’s strained, hapless laughter. 

“My, my, who knew the mighty Protector Pete could be beaten with just a few tickles,” the witch cackled. Madam Lucia held out her other hand. A puff of smoke in her palm magically produced another feather, matching the first plume perfectly. She twirled it between her fingers before letting go of both. The plumes remained hovering in the air for a moment, suspended upright and at attention. “Keep tickling these adorable feet while I prepare more ticklish amusement for his little friends.”

The feathers, hovering by nothing more than invisible magic, returned to Protector Pete’s bare soles. They continued to swipe up and down from his heels to the base of his toes and back again, second by second. Protector Pete’s laughter resumed, the boy’s face blushing in his own defeat as his head tossed side to side.

“NAAHHAHAHAHAHAHOOOO! STAHAHAHAP TICKLING MY FEEEHEEHEEHEET!!” the fallen hero cried. The boy continued to flail atop the rack. The tickles blocked his mind from accessing his powers. He pulled at the cuffs to summon his super strength, but remained firmly in place within the dungeon. He tried to shake the cuffs loose with the telekinesis he had developed with his mentor, but failed to focus hard enough on the bolts to set himself free. The tickles pouring through his senses rendered the young man powerless against the witch’s plans. He watched her walk away, through teary eyes, into the darkened corridors of her castle, as the feathers continued to riddle his tender feet with endless, ticklish strokes. Protector Pete, the brave hero of Halmeton, could only hope for his friends to not fall into the same fate daring to save him.

~~~

The scene played again and again in Kyle’s mind. At least once a day, elements of the scene would flash back into Kyle’s memory through seemingly random means. The old Protector Pete show had long since been taken out of regular programming circulation, a relic of his childhood forgotten in the general consciousness of the modern cartoon viewer. It gained a slight bounce when the live-action remake was announced, but as much as Kyle had expressed excitement for the project, what awaited him was twice as much disappointment, not the least of which came from the omission of ‘the scene’. 

The Protector Pete tickle torture scene was one that featured heavily in the minds of mostly tickle enthusiasts online. Kyle found a sense of comradery that such a scene had awakened similar feelings in many people that they had in him years prior. He discussed it with others in forum posts, told his version of largely the same reactions, and would preserve it by continuing to upload copies of the scene to video sharing sites after it would inevitably keep getting taken down. Kyle would watch the clip about once every other day, making sure that he would never forget such a formative moment in his upbringing. He and the other fans of the scene would share stories that they would write regarding Pete’s ticklishness, art depicting the scene playing out in different ways, and doing all that they could to honor the scene that had been one of the community’s, and generation’s, most prominent moments of awakening. 

As fondly as Kyle would reflect on the scene, a dourness loomed over the moment that seemed to exist only in fiction. He would often play out the clip in his mind as if he was in Protector Pete’s position, wondering how he would react, what kind of faces and noises he would make, and even pondering whether or not he would want the torture to stop. Outside of his forum friends, Kyle kept this largely to himself. He went all through his developmental years without ever bringing up the clip or his fancy toward the idea of being tickled to any of his friends or peers at school. Kyle imagined that keeping this side of him buried not only made it easier to hide but would eventually fade away like any other phase. But as the years went by, he continued to think about the clip every day, and he was only left with the undying urge to experience a moment even slightly like it for himself. 

“Kirkland,” a familiar voice snapped Kyle back into the present. The boy shook his head, only just realizing how long he had been staring into the flame of a candle sitting on his aunt Vivian’s coffee table. It flickered playfully, being all that Kyle needed for his mind to replay the way that the torches in Madam Lucia’s dungeon sparkled in the waves of Protector’s Pete’s ticklish laughter. The scene had played again in his mind while sitting on her lush, cream-colored sofa, drifting him off to a space more familiar than his aunt’s new house. “That’s so cool. Are you excited?” 

“Mhmm,” Kyle said, engaging in a classic response of friendly dismissiveness. He nodded and smiled, actions that seemed more obligatory than natural when discussing the mundanity of school plans. His aunt Vivian sat back in a plush chair off to his right. She smiled back at him, her ruby red lips curling up at the end. 

“That’s where your dad went to school,” Vivian said, “but I’m sure everyone’s already told you about that, huh?” Kyle chuckled. Not out of genuine humor but more out of an anxious confusion for how to better respond. 

“Oh yeah,” Kyle said. “He’s already told me all about the teachers he had, those that he could remember, all the crazy stuff he and his friends got into. All of that.” Vivian laughed.

“Well, maybe not all of it,” she said. “Did he tell you the time I had to come get him naked out of a tree?” Kyle smirked as his eyes furrowed.

“No?” he responded. “You did?” Vivian nodded, bearing an amused yet exhausted expression.

“His friends had dared him to get naked and climb the big tree on campus, I think they called it Old Reggie or something,” she said, going off on her anecdote. “They may have been a little… ‘influenced’ at the time, but yeah, stripped down and climbed the whole damn thing. So naturally, his friends found a phone and called me at, like, two or three in the morning to drive out and get him down.”

“Why you?” Kyle said, laughing at the story. “Why not, I don’t know, the fire department or something?”

“Oh believe me, I yelled at them all the next time I saw them,” Vivian said. “But by the time I had gotten there, they had all bailed the naked dumbass and I was the one who had to call 911 to come get him down. I was… whoooo buddy, I was mad.”

“I bet,” Kyle said, chuckling along and staring down into the still reflection of a cup of tea sitting in front of him. Aunt Vivian had offered him one upon his arrival. Not wanting to turn down an offer, he accepted, despite not liking tea as much as juice or soda.

The pair sat in Aunt Vivian’s living room. The house itself was new and larger than her own. It was still in the stages of being decorated, but most of the boxes had been unpacked in the weeks prior. The weekend had been planned to give Kyle and his aunt some time to bond while his parents enjoyed a relaxing retreat away in the Caribbean. The boy sat in khaki shorts and a weathered Mayday Parade graphic tee shirt. He wore slightly darkened ankle socks that were on the verge of growing holes. Aunt Vivian sat with an upstanding elegance. Even when enjoying a relaxing day at home, she always seemed to dress to impress. A dark purple blouse complimented the alluring shimmer in her flowing black hair. She kept her nails long and to dark colors that tended to contrast the vibrant reds of her lips. As a public figure, Aunt Vivian knew the importance of appearances and always seemed to take an instant command of everyone else in which she shared a room.

“Well, it’s really good to have you here, Kyle,” Aunt Vivian said. Kyle smiled. He had always had that fun connection with his aunt. She remained a reliable pillar in his life. With Kyle as her only nephew, she strived to be the kind of figure to which he would turn should he ever need a place to stay, ask advice on difficult topics, or just to offer some entertaining company. Despite maturing into an upstanding figure in local political circles, Vivian always retained a sense of youthful playfulness, a well-maintained immaturity that she could call on to help keep spirits high. Kyle’s smile waned as he heard a brief line from the clip.

“I have you now, Protector Pete!”

Kyle blinked and squinted a bit. He scratched at the side of his cheek and smiled once more.

“Thanks, it’s good to be here, seeing your new place,” Kyle said. He looked back to his aunt Vivian. She sat staring back at him, her eyes scanning the boy as if assessing more on her own than she asked.

“It’s much nicer than the old place,” Vivian said. “Bigger, neighbors are quieter, don’t have to deal with that awful freeway backup. Is the guest room good for your stay? I know not everything is set up yet, but just want to make sure you’re comfortable.”

“Oh, sure,” Kyle said. “I don’t need much.”

“Great,” Aunt Vivian said. “But don’t worry, we’re going to have fun around town, go see the campus, maybe even make some friends along the way.” 

“...your friends’ secrets, each and every one of them…”

The voice echoed again in Kyle’s head, strikingly similar to that of Madam Lucia from the clip. He chuckled thoughtfully to himself before glancing back at his aunt. She sat with a confident and composed smile, bright and welcoming. Kyle paused and blinked once more. Remember the clip once more stirred a faint recollection of the feelings associated. With his aunt sitting before him, strong and assured within the confines of her own home, her domain, Kyle began picturing the scene again. He started to imagine Vivian’s face planted on the evil witch’s head. He pictured her grin shining up at him from the bottom of the device, her glee at having finally caught her do-good nemesis, and her laughter as she were to feather the hero’s soles. Kyle shook his head and shifted anxiously in his seat, pulling his mind away from the brimming contemplations. 

“Heh, yeah, I… I doubt that,” Kyle said. He looked down and scratched at the side of his cheek. Vivian looked away.

“Well, you’re welcome to use my computer or take whatever you want out of the fridge while you’re here,” she said. “You know, make yourself at home.” 

“I’m perfectly fine staying in most of the time,” Kyle said. “No need to entertain me or anything, I’m kind of a homebody like that.” Vivian nodded and turned to look out a window stationed above an adjacent loveseat. The blinds were open, letting in a glowing cascade of natural light. 

“Suit yourself,” she said. “But it is a nice day, wouldn’t want you to regret letting it slip by.”

“You may regret that, Peter…”

The line pulled Kyle's attention away from the woman sitting across from him. Once again, Madam Lucia’s voice resonated in his head, much more clearly than before. The moment appeared to haunt his memory with a much more sincere clarity. The flash came across as more hopeless than typically exciting, as if taunting Kyle’s inability to see the scene play out as he wished. Aunt Vivian leaned forward to take a sip from her own cup of tea. Her warm, welcoming nature, coupled with her insistence to remain an open source of conversation with the boy, ignited an idea that Kyle struggled to rationalize. Yet, as he sat among his aunt’s new home, a new environment entirely, far removed from the weighty eyes of his parents and peers, a rush of encouragement rose within Kyle’s chest.

“H-hey, um…” Kyle began, knowing what he wanted to say though not at all with how to proceed. He paused, long enough for Aunt Vivian to reply in kind.

“Yes?” his aunt asked.

“There’s… uhh… been something on my mind lately…” Kyle started. Aunt Vivian sat forward slightly, setting her cup back down on the table between them.

“Is everything okay?” Aunt Vivian asked. Kyle nodded.

“Oh, yeah,” he said, realizing how his precursor must have sounded without context. “Yeah, everything’s fine. It’s not about home or school or anything. In fact, it… heh, it’s kind of silly, a little…” 

“Well, if it’s something that’s bothering you, I’m sure it’s not silly,” Vivian said. Her tone shifted into one much more soft and hushed. She smiled warmly at the boy. “You can tell me anything.”

“Thanks,” Kyle said. He centered his thoughts and calmed the pounding within his chest and temples. He sat hunched over, staring down at his socked feet and his fingers weaved in his lap. Vivian gave the boy the silence he needed to collect himself, calmly sipping from her mug. Eventually, Kyle realized that there would be no easy way to ask and knew he would regret letting the moment pass him by. He knew the best way to go about it was simply getting the words out, no matter how difficult or painful it may be. “Um, Aunt Viv?”

“Yes?” Vivian asked. Kyle sighed. He closed his eyes to calm himself once more. Upon opening them again, he sat up.

“So, I… I’d like to do something with you,” Kyle began to say, stumbling over his words, “and I’d really like it not getting out to mom or dad or anyone, really.” 

“Okay,” Vivian said, supportive yet curious. 

“This may sound strange, but… I… I’d like to be tickled,” Kyle said, trying to make the heavy words sound as casual and normal as possible. Vivian sat back. She blinked and stared over the boy. 

“Tickled?” she asked. The assumed skepticism made Kyle want to bail on the whole conversation, to run out the door and never speak of what he had said again. But Kyle knew well how locked in he had become, all to his benefit.

“Yeah, I… I know how it sounds,” Kyle said. “I promise, it’s not anything weird or anything. I just… I’ve always wanted to try something that I had seen in an old cartoon I used to watch and I don’t know if I’ll ever really find someone I trust enough for it. It’s just to see how it feels, I promise, it’s not–” Vivian held up her hand. She leaned forward and smiled warmly back at Kyle.

“There’s nothing to be worried about,” she said, with all the tender kindness of which Kyle knew she was capable. “I totally understand where you’re coming from.” Kyle paused. He looked up to meet his aunt’s eye.

“Really?” Kyle asked, speaking as softly as he felt small sharing the room with Vivian.

“Frankly, I’m flattered that you would come to me with something so clearly sensitive,” Aunt Vivian continued. “I’d love to help you do whatever you want. And I promise, I’ll keep it between us.” Kyle’s expression steadily brightened. His shoulders fell. A heavy sigh escaped his lips. He continued to sit forward, his fingers trembling and jittery, but his mood reflected a young man at ease.

“Thank you so much,” Kyle said. “I really hope it’s no trouble at all. I just wanted to try out a few things.” Vivian chuckled.

“Of course, dear, no trouble,” she said. “Could be quite fun, actually. I assume you’re ticklish then?” Kyle’s cheeks began to warm, his aunt’s playful tone in asking him such a personal question stirring his feverish ideas.

“As much as I’ve always been,” Kyle said.

“Oh yeah, I used to tickle you all the time when you were little,” Aunt Vivian said, smiling wide. “It’s all making sense now.” 

“Yeah…”

“Glad to see that you enjoyed it as much as I did,” Vivian said. “I was just telling your mother how I missed the days when you were little and you’d make up these tickle games and always seemed to lose. You were so cute.” Kyle looked away. The heat in his cheeks continued to beam as he raided the tip of his thumb to his lips, nibbling on his nail. Vivian watched him squirm in his seat. She grinned and stood up, taking both mugs with her to the kitchen. “I assume you can take more now, then? I don’t have to go so easy on you?”

“I… n-no?” Kyle replied, wanting to speak more casually about his request but struggling to find the words to do so. He sat nervously on the sofa, his anxiety over bringing up the topic replaced with anxiety regarding the direct consequences of the topic. His mind raced, wondering what all his aunt would end up doing to him, if she would truly fulfill his requests, and if she could do so without judging him how he feared. Kyle began to feel the giggles rising in his throat, eager and anxious, as if suffering a phantom preview of events to come. He began to rightfully imagine being tied and helpless and completely vulnerable to the tickles for which he had spent so many years pining. He pictured his aunt’s face hovering over him, her smirk taking the place of Madam Lucia’s evil, sadistic grin. He wondered what measures she would take on her own, if she was going to enjoy herself and act on her own impulses. 

As Kyle’s mind raced across ideas that began to feel more real than ever, Aunt Vivian returned, having washed out both mugs in the sink. She walked up to Kyle, reaching her hand down to him.

“Are you ready then?” Aunt Vivian asked.

“W-what, n-now?” Kyle asked.

“Why not?” Aunt Vivian asked with a pleased smirk. “You’re mine for the whole visit after all.” Kyle swallowed. He only faintly considered the possibility of the trip going in the direction of the strained topic, prepared for the patience of giving his aunt enough time to think over the proposition and get herself ready for it. Yet the enthusiasm in Vivian's voice echoed his own, catching Kyle by a strong lead to allow his fantasy to finally commence. Kyle blushed a bit and took his aunt's hand.

“If… if that's okay,” Kyle said.

“More than okay,” Vivian said. “This'll be fun.” Kyle stood with a heavy sigh, easing his nerves to ground himself in the moment, drinking in all of the active elements of anticipation. that glistened the seconds in a glow of wonder. She pulled the boy toward the guest bedroom that the two had already begun to set up as Kyle’s for the visit. “And don’t worry, it’ll stay our little secret.”

Vivian’s guest bedroom was as humbly decorated as the rest of the house. As a relic of clean, suburban lavish, the beige walls welcomed the two into a quaint lair of basic convention. The bedspread was a cozy, plush escape, finished with a blue and white floral array across the comforter. The pillows sat leaning against the head like inviting palms for the weary and fatigued. The bed sat facing a dresser and flatscreen hanging on the wall. Decorative amenities sat across every surface. One wall hoisted another fainted landscape with another displayed framed pictures of Vivian, Kyle, and close family. The air was crisp with the clean, cool scent of hospitality. While the room conveyed an average sense of comfortable mundanity, Kyle’s mind could only focus on what it was that was to happen within those walls. 

“So tell me about this cartoon you mentioned,” Vivian said, entering behind Kyle. Kyle turned his head away, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Oh, it… it’s nothing,” she said, not wanting to venture into the details that made the idea sound too childish. “Just an old cartoon I used to watch…”

“Protector Pete?” Vivian asked. Kyle paused and sighed.

“Y-yeah…”

“Awww, you used to love that show!” Vivian said gleefully. “I had thought you might have forgotten about it by now. I remember you coming over and watching it for hours. Your mom was not so happy that I’d let you watch that much tv, but you know as well as I do that Aunty V has her own rules, right?” Kyle turned toward her. Standing, Aunt Vivian seemed to tower over him. The woman was only about a couple inches taller, but in the moment, Kyle felt much smaller compared to her. Smaller, yet more safe then and there than anywhere else in the world. He smiled and nodded.

“Y-yeah, I remember that,” he said. Vivian walked over to the dresser. She bent down and reached under a small opening between the bottom of the dresser and the plush, brandy carpet. 

“You had your… what was it, fifth birthday party?” Vivian asked. “Fifth or sixth, one of them was Protector Pete themed.”

“Sixth, I think,” Kyle said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I… I’m not still ‘into’ it now, it’s just that… one scene…” Vivian withdrew her hand and pulled out a small, brass key. She inserted it into a keyhole on the bottom drawer, the only drawer with an apparent keyhole. 

“Right, and what was it?” Vivian asked, her voice and tone as pleasant as always. Kyle sighed and shuffled his socked feet against the carpet. Recalling the events of the scene out loud felt as though he were reliving the confession all over again. He centered his mind, grounding his racing thoughts on the idea of the ice having already been broken, that the theme of tickling had already been introduced. With that, the boy felt that expounding on his secret would not be as cumbersome of an experience.

“Um, well, P-Pete was being held down and… tickled by an old witch character…”

“Old?” Vivian said sourly, stopping and staring back at the boy. Kyle recoiled.

“Oh, no, I… I mean a young and very cool witch character…” Kyle chuckled and scratched at the side of his nose. Vivian smirked and opened the drawer. “She was really… like, cruel about it and it just kind of seemed like… fun, in a way. The show portrays it like real torture, but you know, the ‘kid’ version. She only used, like, feathers on his feet, and even that drove him crazy, but I always kinda wondered what different, um, tickle tools would feel like, you know, all over…”

“I see,” Vivian said. “Well, if that’s what you want, then you’re in luck. I may have just the toys for the job.”

“You do?” Kyle asked. Vivian began pulling out several coils of ropes, all black and made of silky soft linen. They appeared weathered in places as she tossed them out onto the bed. Kyle came closer to look, seeing several fibers frayed and splitting.

“I may have gotten into… activities in my own youth,” Vivian said. “Never felt the need to get rid of all that I had collected. Too sentimental, I guess, or perhaps I’ve been holding out for some… new usage.” Vivian retrieved a few other objects from the drawer before closing it. Atop the dresser, she laid out a couple of hairbrushes and a pair of gloves ornate with fine, black feathers. Vivian tossed her hair back and smiled reflectively at the items. Kyle glanced over to see what all his aunt had pulled out.

“You’ve… tickled before?” the boy asked.

“Of course, dear, I used to tickle you all the time,” Vivian said. Kyle blushed a bit.

“No, I… I know, but like really tickle-tickled before?” Kyle asked. Vivian chuckled.

“Maybe you’re not the first boy who’s asked me this, coincidentally,” Vivian said. “Call it fate, if you’d like.” She turned to face her nephew, staring up at her with reddened cheeks and a glimmer of sweat resting across his brow. “Now, go ahead and take off your shirt. Then, you’re going to get up onto the bed and spread your arms and legs out to the corners so Aunty V can get you all set up. Okay, sweetie?”

“Okay!” Kyle said, excitedly. The boy lifted his tee shirt up over his head and threw it onto a chair in the corner of the room. He then leapt up onto the bed, his weight bouncing and sinking enthusiastically into the mattress. With his questions set aside for the meat of the event, Kyle laid himself out in the center of the bed, spreading his arms and legs out as wide as he could. Vivian smirked at the boy’s beaming eagerness, his expression giddy and impishly awaiting an experience of which she harbored distant memories. 

“Very good,” Vivian said. She smiled down upon the boy like Madam Lucia grinning over her prized capture. Kyle’s heart raced, staring up at the woman, her eyes feasting over his figure dressed down to shorts and socks. She returned to the coils of rope, beginning to unspool and coming closer to the first corner. Kyle watched on as his aunt took his wrist and laced the soft rope around in a tightened knot. She pulled with a strength that held him firmly, doing the same after to the corner post of the bed. “Here, tug on that for a second.”

“Wow…” Kyle said, pulling at the rope holding out his arm. He pulled playfully at first, then more roughly, yielding the same inability to free himself with both. As Kyle played with and tested the knots, Vivian began doing the same around this ankle. Limb by limb, the experienced woman tied Kyle down to the bed, each section bestowing a greater degree of helplessness onto his body. By the time she finished, Kyle had thoroughly tested each strand and became flushed with a playful dread of being completely and entirely helpless before the woman who had become his captor.

“There, you’re not going anywhere,” Vivian said. She spoke with a deeper sincerity than normal, her eyes beginning to glisten over her trapped prey. Kyle’s heart raced in his chest. Sweat had begun to bulb around his face and neck. His throat grew dry through bouts of open mouth panting. Vivian watched him adjust to the ropes for a moment. She drank in Kyle’s realization of his own predicament like a ticklish treat, all laid out for her to enjoy to the fullest extent possible. “Now, I don’t want to be too mean to you, sweetie. How about we start slow first?”

“N-no, I… I wanna really go through it!” Kyle said, his eyes locking onto hers with stern intention. “Please, don’t hold back. No matter what I say or do. I promise, I can take it.” Vivian raised one eyebrow. She chuckled to herself, amused by the naive insistence.

“If that’s what you want,” Vivian said. The woman peered down the boy’s body. She laid her hand gently on his bare shin before tracing her touch down to his ankle, stationed as far away from the rest of him as the boy could stretch. A dense twisting of nerves churned in Kyle’s chest as Vivian pinched at the elastic of his sock and began peeling it down his foot. Kyle braced himself. His heart fluttered with increasing ferocity as more of his foot became bared before the woman with ticklish intentions. A nervous smile stretched across his lips. He watched as the sock popped off of his foot, leaving the sensitive target as exposed as it was helplessly kept in place.

“Awww, such a cute little foot you have here…” Vivian teased, grinning widely as she stared down at it. It was small; larger than the last time she had inspected it for tickles, but still relatively small. Demure and vulnerable, she admired the pasty shading and the smoothness that coated the skin of the area in an inviting texture. Vivian let her long nails whisk against the warm, blushing sole. Kyle squeaked as the foot tried to jerk away, instead curling into a useless display of bubbly toes pressed against a bed of creamy wrinkles. 

“Eeeeaaahhhh!” Kyle yelped. His eyes widened as the reality of his ticklishness returned to him. The residual tingles flitted with the pleasant stare that resided across Vivian’s face, detailing how much more there was to come.

“So ticklish too!” Vivian said, almost laughing. “Oh, we’re going to have so much fun, aren’t we?” Kyle paused, not sure if he should answer or not. His smile did so for him as Vivian made her way to his other foot. Once again, she took her time in peeling away the sock, revealing the boy’s bare sole trapped for her ticklish delight, and let it fall to the floor. Vivian admired all of the familiar qualities once more before giving the foot a subtle, but noticeable, swipe of her nails. Again, the foot jerked against the rope, moving very little in place, as Kyle’s body clenched into a sharp squeal of giggles.

“Neeaaahhhhh!!” Kyle laughed. Vivian laughed.

“Aww, I just love your little laugh,” Vivian said. “I can’t wait to listen to it all day long.” She smiled and turned her back to the boy, warm and panting heavily against the bed. She retrieved the pair of gloves, slipping them onto her hands. She waved her fingers a bit in the air, the articles themselves covered with a flourish of small, black feathers. She turned to show Kyle. The boy’s mind flashed back to the feathers that Madam Lucia used on Protector Pete. They bore few similarities, the feathers in the cartoon being long and full and not many covering a pair of gloves, but his mind painted an expectation of effectiveness all the same. 

“I’ve tickled quite a few ticklish boys and girls in these when I was younger,” Vivian said. She came closer, her eyes falling once again onto the boy’s bare feet. Kyle stared back at her hands. His teeth sunk into his lip, bracing his nerves to the best of his ability. He watched as her fingers scribbled in the air, the feathers wafting stiffly attached to her fingers. “Ready?” 

“Uhh… mhmmm…” Kyle said, hesitantly. His expectations left his nerves set ablaze, heightened and anxious. Vivian smiled down at her dear nephew. With all the permission she needed, her gloved hands fell upon Kyle’s bare soles. 

With a gentle waving of her fingers, the feathers lining the gloves brushed against Kyle’s blushing feet. The small plumes were delicate enough to be many working together in tight concentration, yet stern enough for each to be noticeable when dragged along skin, particularly overwhelmingly ticklish skin. Kyle’s feet jerked back instinctively. Another sharp squeak escaped his lips as the many small feathers fluffed and scraped across his incredibly sensitive soles. The boy reeled back, his limbs pulling against the ropes and his muscles contracting, as his head collapsed into a fit of untamed giggles.

“Gaaaaaahhhheeehehehehhahahahahahaa!! Ohhhh gahahahahahaha!!” Kyle laughed. The boy began twisting in the binds that kept him pressed against the bed. His body entered a state of restlessness as a flurry of giggles rose to his lips, ignited by the ticklish tingles that rushed up through him. Kyle knew well of his own ticklishness, but his experience had mostly been constrained to simply a few seconds at a time. At ten seconds of continuous exposure of the feathers against his feet, he had already been tickled longer than he ever had been at one time, relishing the new experience that he had sought after for so long.

“My, my, you are a ticklish one, aren’t you?” Vivian teased. “Tickle, tickle tickle…” Her fingers, laced with the feathers fluffy and scraping against Kyle’s bare soles, skittered and scribbled lightly up and down both feet at once. Her arms spread to both edges of the bed, her hands keeping up with the side-to-side flailing of both feet in their ticklish mania. She laughed along with his immediate reactions to the light, feathery tickles, looking forward to seeing just how much the boy could take. “That’s right, laugh for me. Coochie coochie coo, ticklish boy…”

“Neeeahahahahahahahaa!! Naahahahahahahhaoooo!! I’m saahahahahaooo ticklish!!” Kyle cried. His laughter only grew with the compounding exposure to the tickles, ranging more and more than he had ever known by the second. The feathers across the gloves, spread across both of his creamy, soft soles, attacked all of the ticklish nerves throughout. Every gentle swipe and whisking prick sent bursts of tickles up through his senses, dozens of which covered his feet at all times. His soles became enveloped in a steady stream of feathery tickles. Kyle’s legs pulled and pulled at the ropes, yet remained within easy reach of the woman’s spread arms and scribbling fingers.

“Aww, I do love a cute, ticklish laugh…” Vivian said, her expression beaming with her own bouts of laughter at Kyle’s explosive reactions. Her feathers traced across the delicate regions of Kyle’s blushing soles in chaotic bouts. No matter how they flailed or kicked in place, she could keep up with them well, making sure that Kyle’s ticklish soles remained perfectly stimulated. The boy howled with laughter. His voice quickly filled the room, a faint heat bearing down on both host and guest.

“Gaaahhehehehahahahaahahaaa!!” Kyle could only laugh. His body flew into a more panicked state than he had ever experienced, the tickles building into a singular sensation from which he fought to squirm away, despite enjoying himself and after having asked for it specifically. He bucked and twisted against the bed, the ropes working thoroughly in holding him down to remain vulnerable for all of Vivian’s ticklish intentions. His toes curled against the feathery fingers. His arches bunched into wrinkled beds before flexing back in varied bursts of impulsive defensive measures.

“Look at these ticklish little tootsies dance for me!” Vivian teased with a little giggle. “My, my, with this musical laughter, it’s like a ticklish little puppet show.” Vivian’s gloved fingers spread and scratched across the boy’s feet, light scratches fluttering and wafting the many short, stiffened feathers against the squirming surfaces. Dozens, if not hundreds, of faint feathers riddled playful tickles across Kyle’s wriggling feet, swiping more so the quicker they shifted in place.

“Ahahaaaaahahahahhahaha Ahahaha – Aunt Veeeeehhahahahahahaha!!” Kyle called out through his laugher. His body bounced against the bed, his nerves set ablaze by a tickling that had already exceeded both his experience and his expectation; only just bearable enough to withstand reservation. Vivian watched as the boy squirmed and laughed atop her guest bed, how much more ticklish her nephew had become over the years and how he was able to retain the eagerness to continue within his apparent hysteria. She smirked, amused by the drive that she witnessed. The older woman tossed back her hair as she pulled her hands away from Kyle’s bare feet.

“My, my, such a tough young man I have in my ropes,” she taunted. “Ticklish, but tough enough to deal with it. I like that.” As Kyle laid back against the sheets, his eyes closed and face dark red while sucking down deep gulps of air, she glanced down to his blushing feet once more. Having been covered by her feathery gloved hands, she had to do very little with the toys in order to activate the senses across his soles. The pair blushed a warm shade of pink, his senses singing with stimulated sensitivity. Her gaze fell upward toward his equally bare torso as she made her way around the bed. 

“You… y-you’re good…” Kyle said, panting heavily.

“I know,” Vivian said. “Toying with ticklish boys is actually what I’m best at.” She came around to the side of the bed, leaning over and propping herself up on her elbows for comfort. Kyle witnessed the gloves up close. So many feathers, all having proven their effectiveness against ticklish skin. His eyes widened as her hands came close to his exposed tummy.

“I… I can tell…” Kyle said, a drop of sweat falling down the side of his neck. Vivian giggled.

“Let’s hope you can take everything else I can do,” she said. “I’d hate to cut our fun so short…” Her gloved hand raised, the feathers fluffing in the air, and came down upon Kyle’s side. A sudden jerk and a swift snort was all with which Kyle was able to respond before finding another fit of giggles rising up through his throat.

“Mmmppphhhtthhehehehehehhahhhhahahaha!” Kyle quickly surrendered to the laughter enticed by his aunt’s light, feathery scribbling against his midsection. Her delicate fingering was half-hearted in effort, but the feathers did more than enough to instill those same ticklish sensations of which Kyle had grown so fond. The boy shifted in place, the feathery tickles flushing up through his body from the singular spot, his nerves being awakened by the soft kisses of the many feathers adorning each glove.

“Coochie coochie coo…” Vivian said, loud enough for Kyle to hear over his laughter. “Who’s my helpless, ticklish boy?” Her inquiry came with her other hand arriving to help. As one hand’s worth of tiny feathers began grazing across the boy’s naked belly, the other rose to Kyle’s closest armpit. The boy tried to inch away from the approaching tool, but the ropes holding him down continued to best serve their intended purpose. Her fingers, covered in the small, black plumes, started lightly scribbling against the soft, supple hollow of Kyle’s completely exposed armpit. In an instant, the new wave of tickles exploded through the boy, erupting from his mouth as the small of his back lifted up off of the bed.

“Ohhh gaaaahhahahahahahahahahahaha!!! Nahahahahahahat thereeeeehahhahaha!!!” The new vocalization came with a rise to intensity that easily matched, if not exceeded, that of his feet. The tickles shot through him in flurries that renewed every passing second. The feathers teased and stroked his spots in a way that nothing ever had before. One of the feathers may have made him twitch, two possible would have made him giggle if placed in the right area. The hundreds that lined the combined force of both gloves created a sensory whirlwind that raged through his nerves with all the sadistic pleasure an evil witch might have for torturing the kingdom’s chosen hero.

“You never answered me,” Vivian said, shaking her head. “Who’s my ticklish little boy?” Her efforts were, once again, minimal. Her fingers tapped and lightly wafted over the spots, letting the feathers do most of the work. She brushed them across Kyle’s trembling belly, making sure to glide across every last ticklish inch before circling once more. She dug a little harder against Kyle’s pit, loving the near screaming reactions he had to the faintest of scratches. The boy’s ticklishness was paramount, almost as much as his enthusiasm over the whole ordeal.

“Haaahahahahahahaaahaa!! MEEEEE–ahahahahahah!! I AM–aaaahahahahahahaaa!!” Kyle answered. His face had fallen into a darker shade of red. Tears began beading in the corners of his eyes as his body flailed and fought to defend the vulnerable areas and all of the highly ticklish nerves throughout. Nevertheless, the ropes kept the boy splayed, and Aunt Vivian’s somewhat sinister plot to tickle the boy was playing out almost exactly as he had imagined it would.

“That’s right, my ticklish little man,” Vivian said, teasingly. “Tickle, tickle, tickle…” Her fingers began dancing slightly more firmly across the ticklish regions. She darted them in scribbling concentrations across his belly, attacking spot after spot at random will. Kyle’s stomach pulsed and wriggled, yet was in no position to avert itself away from his aunt’s tickling fingers. The feathers continued to work by gliding across his skin, tickling in the faintest of ways as one continuous storming surge of stimulation.  The longer she exposed him to such experiences, the more potent they became under the sinking realization that, much like Protector Pete, there was little to nothing Kyle could do to stop it.

“Gaaaaahahahahahahaaaa!!! Aaaaahhhhwwwwwhhahahahahahaahahaha it ticklessshhahahahaha!!” Kyle cried out again. His head fell side to side, his back twisting and rising against the sheets. Vivian laughed along with him as her fingers dug into the tender valley of Kyle’s helpless armpit. She alternated between harsh scribbling and allowing the feathers to simply brush over the spot. While both methods proved effective, the subtle act of alternating haphazardly, unable for Kyle’s racing mind to predict, or adjust to, the madness, served his responses best. 

“Heehee, awww, ticklish cutie tied to my bed all weekend long,” Vivian said. “We’re gonna have so much fun!” The woman continued to push Kyle’s senses, along with his enthusiasm to continue, second by second. She watched his reactions closely to make sure that her methods were still restrained enough to provide an enjoyable experience for the relatively unusual request, in as much as she remembered that he stated that he wanted all that she had to offer. Vivian smirked at the proposition, and found herself more than prepared to act on it, but also reserved the experienced element of maturity and resistance to her own delights. The boy’s laughter filled the room until it began to become strained and gasping, desperate for air. Vivian recalled her hands once more, watching over Kyle as he proceeded to recover before her eyes.

Kyle fell into another panting fit, his face darkened with color still. Sweat left his skin shimmering in the natural light cascading in from the curtained window. He laid out weak and limp, his eyes closed as the bodily stress, even in the aftermath, was glowingly apparent. Vivian sighed and rose to her feet, having to push herself up by the edge of the bed with a faint groan. She twisted to crack her back a bit as Kyle’s weary eyes opened, a smile still resting across his lips.

“You good, dear?” Vivian asked, bearing a smirk of her own. Kyle took a moment to answer, though his expression displayed that of fatigued satisfaction.

“Mhmm…” Kyle said, the sound all he could muster.

“You’re really quite ticklish,” Vivian commented. “That really wasn’t a lot, you know?” Kyle sighed through his nose. He nodded as his eyes fluttered a bit.

“I… I know…” Kyle said. “I-I am, but… you’re also really… really… good.” Vivian chuckled. She began to peel the gloves off of her hands.

“That wasn’t anything sweetie,” she said, “but I appreciate it.” Kyle shifted a bit, his smile fading as he watched his aunt remove the gloves.

“Y-you’re… not done, are you?” Kyle asked, his voice breaking a bit. Vivian raised one eyebrow.

“I don’t know how much more you can take…” Vivian said. Kyle was quick to shake his head.

“No, please, don’t be done,” the boy began to beg. “Please, I… I can take it, I promise! Please, can we keep going?” Vivian chuckled as she listened to the boy’s plea. She considered the responsible route of simply ending the session and perhaps promising one another day. But as she stood back and watched the boy already tied to her bed, all by his own eager fulfillment, she considered the glaring and inviting alternatives.

“You really want to keep going?” Vivian asked. Kyle nodded with an energy of someone not having just undergone the most intensive tickling of their life. 

“Yes please, I’ll do anything!” Kyle begged. “Please keep tickling me!” The boy spoke as an opportunist, as if he was worried that this time might become his last and he wanted to make it as long as possible. Vivian spent a moment considering such a position from his perspective, grinning as she came to her answer.

“Alright then, but remember: you said you wanted this,” Vivian said. “I won’t be going easy on you this time.” 

“Yes please!” Kyle said, his demeanor that of a dog being handed a freshly refilled food bowl. Vivian grinned. She laid the gloves out on the dresser, exposing her hands once more. Her nails were long and stiff, a bright sheen of candy red glistening in the pouring daylight. She looked to the brush that she had pulled out of the bottom drawer. She began to reconsider her position on using it, knowing that the boy would be too ticklish for its effects, but also wanting to provide him an experience that respected his wishes and his budding maturity, no need to continue treating him like a child. If he was asking for utmost intensity, he was certainly old enough to know what that entailed. 

“Alright then,” Vivian said. She picked up the hairbrush and brought it up to the foot of the bed. A rush of nervousness raced through Kyle’s body, cool and tingling, as his eyes fell upon the large, wide tool. Many ball-tipped teeth stared back at him, as many as one glove had feathers. His eyes widened as he stared back into the blackened maw of the brush, its hunger for his ticklish laughter radiating from the sight of the beast alone. Kyle braced himself, his teeth sinking back into his lip and his hands balling into fists. Vivian grinned as she knelt down against the foot of the bed once again. 

“Now… which foot should I tickle first… hmmmm…” Vivian continued. She drew out the moment by looking back and forth between Kyle’s bound, bare feet, seeing which one looked more inviting to the tickles planned for both. After several seconds of internal deliberation, she decided on Kyle’s left foot, inching closer to hold it steady. “This one looks like it really, really, really wants to be tickled. Tickled crazy. Can’t you hear it? ‘Please, oh please, tickle me until I can’t stand it anymore, and then just keep tickling me!’” Vivian’s squeaky tone as if talking for Kyle’s left foot left the boy squirming in anticipation. She continued as if answering its desperate plea for attention. “Alright, Mr. Foot, but only because you’re just so much fun to tickle!”

The wave of tickles that followed crashed through Kyle’s tender senses faster and harder than his mind could even comprehend in the coming seconds. Vivian had taken a stern hold over the foot, bending it back, and had begun scrubbing the plastic, bulbed bristles of the tool up and down Kyle’s taut sole. Still still started slow, easing the passes of the brush with brief breaks at each end. Still, the bristles brutally attacked the heightened nerves of Kyle’s feet, each scraping and riddling his nerves with tickles beyond what he had previously thought capable.

“NYYEEAAAHHHHHAHAHHAHAHAHAAAA!!” Laughter erupted from Kyle’s throat. A surge of tickles rushed through the boy’s body. In a fleeting second, the scraping bristles of the brush against his taut, immobile foot sent him deep into a flailing scourge of ticklish hysteria. Every pass felt as though hundreds of fingernails were scribbling against the one foot at once. It was a new, straining intensity of tickle, one that blinded Kyle to all other feelings or conscious motions within just a few seconds. Immediately, Kyle compared it to the level of tickle that Protector Pete was forced to endure, if not worse.

“Awww, such a good, ticklish little foot,” Vivian teased gleefully as Kyle screamed with laughter and thrashed against the bed. “You love the brush, don’t you? Oh, I know you do.” The woman continued to scrape the brush up and down, back and forth, each pass sending vicious fits of tickles raging through Kyle’s body. Despite it being just from the one foot, the reactions thrust upon the ticklish captive were explosive, as if his entire body were being enveloped by maddening tickles. Vivian kept a close eye on him as her methods pushed Kyle’s understanding of what real tickling could be, eager to see just how much he could take before his enthusiasm waned.

“NAAAAAHHHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!!!! GAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA!!!” Kyle’s voice poured out of the room’s open door and bounced off of the walls of the house’s common areas. The bed creaked as he bucked and pulled at the ropes holding him. Vivian kept a stern grip over the foot. Unable to move or squirm much at all, it remained a near completely immobile victim to the insidious licking of the thick, heavy brush. Steady, she passed the bristles across the soft, creamy underside of Kyle’s ticklish sole. Every prong scraped across the delicate skin, leaving behind radiating trails of pure ticklish sensation and the surface of the sole itself blushing a bright pink from the constant, ravaging exposure.

“Tickle, tickle, tickle!” Vivian continued to chant. Her nephew’s apex hysteria was met with a watchful eye and a careful investment of her own, a morbid curiosity whispering for her to keep playing with the boy. When she finally drew back, only a few minutes had passed. In them, Kyle’s foot glowed a bright shade of pink and continued to tingle with residual tickles left over from the brush’s crude affection. Kyle huffed desperately as Vivian made her way over to the other foot. Without instigation, she took a hold of it and pulled it back, lowering the brush once again to feast on the ticklish nerves within.

“GEEEEEAAAAHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!!” Kyle laughed. His body was left little time to recover before being thrust back into absolute ticklish hysteria. Despite his fatigue, his body resumed bouncing and pulling instinctively, his muscles fighting against their own forced contraction. Sweat flung off of his hair with each violent shake of his head. His chest and stomach ached from the ceaseless laughter, his arms and legs tiring quickly as they kept tugging at the ropes keeping him vulnerable.

“Can’t leave out this other foot,” Vivian said, playfully. “I think he was starting to get jealous.” She snickered as she passed the hardened bristles across the taunt sole of Kyle’s other foot, keeping it steady and his toes pulled back by the crook of her thumb. She scrubbed the brush slightly harder than she did the other one, continuing to increase the tickles that served them both in their own macabre curiosities. Vivian threw her hair back. She smirked as the shade of Kyle’s other sole began to glow more and more with each rushing pass of the brush.

“FAAAAHHHAHAHAHHAHAH!!! PLEEEAAHAHAHAHHAHASEEEE!!” Kyle pleaded. He gasped for air, the tickles ravaging his foot storming through worse than all the other tickles he had ever experienced combined. He pictured being Protector Pete in such a helpless situation, unable to do anything but endure the ticklish torture as Madam Lucia would prepare the same for those supposed to save him. It was a dark, yet provocative thought, one that served to contextualize the brutal licking of the brush against his foot in an air of fantasy. Yet, as the tickles persisted, the ability to think or picture anything beyond the present turmoil became harder, to the point where all Kyle could think about was the tickles gushing through his senses.

The scrubbing against his other foot lasted for about as long as the first, if not a little less. Vician kept a close watch on Kyle’s overall composure, yet as the tickles continued, she found a youthful drive within her to keep playing. After she pulled the brush away from Kyle’s foot, his sole beaming a similar shade of pink as the first, she hastily tossed the brush back onto the top of the dresser. Kyle fought to catch his breath, sweat drenching his face and starting to seep into the pillow beneath his head. A dense heat filled the air where the laughter had ceased into echoes. Vivian grinned as she eyed the boy’s dwindling constitution.

“You’re doing great,” Vivian said, coming up on Kyle’s side, “but you wanted it bad, so…” Her hands fell into both of Kyle’s pits at once. Her nails, long and firm, scribbled ferociously against the slick, tender skin within, sending a fatigued Kyle into another gasping assault of thrashing laughter. 

“WHHAAAAAHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!” Kyle threw his head back as his hips lifted off of the bed. His arms pulled desperately at the ropes, his body fighting to protect his particularly sensitive underarm hollows. His pits were damp against Vivian’s clawing nails, scratching skittering faster and faster as they pressed into the tender dips. Vivian herself hovered over Kyle’s figure. She smiled down at the boy as she tickled, drinking in every expression and reaction gifted for her efforts. 

“Coochie coochie coo, my ticklish boy,” she teased with a droning, patronizing tone. Her laughter taunted as much as her words, a gesture indicating her intentions to merely continue as per her own delights. Her nails plunged into Kyle’s bare pits. They scribbled and scraped against the skin as quickly as she could manage, holding little back as she admired the adorable fits of laughter that he provided. Kyle’s mania surged into one that eventually surpassed even the hairbrushes. He thrashed and bucked and screamed with laughter.

“NAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!! I CAAHAHAHAHAHAHAN’T!!!” Kyle bellowed. The scurrying tickles sent surges of tortured nerves from both sides of his body crashing and radiating outward, consuming his senses in a blinding state of ticklish rage. Kyle cried and screamed as the tickles ravaged through him with every swipe of Vivian’s long, capable nails. Her scratching bore against the tender hollows of Kyle’s bare, exposed pits, gnawing at his composure. The tickles, more than Kyle had ever known or even imagined, tore through his senses like a storm riddling a small town to splinters. 

“That’s right, my ticklish little man, laugh for me,” Vivian taunted. She took on a more sinister approach while still keeping an eye on her nephew’s overall state. She gave herself sets of seconds with which to continue before assessing the boy’s mood again and again. His face beamed a bright red, glistened with sweat and tears. His laughter bellowed through gasping fits of desperation. Several stretches of hysteria passed in brief silences before his voice fell back into the deep cacophonous bouts of laughter once more. 

“NEEAAAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAH!!! STAHAHAHAHAHAHPPPP!!!” Kyle thrashed in place as much as his tired body allowed. His aunt’s nails skittered and scribbled deeply into his stretched pits, every moment seared with an assault of tickles flushing through his senses. His mind went dark from all thought and memory, only able to process the present in which the tickles commanded him in subjective entirety. His arms and legs flailed beneath the hovering woman. His toes curled and hands balled into fists as he bared his way through the ticklish onslaught, worsened to the point beyond what he had ever imagined possible.

“Awww, but you wanted it to be hard, didn’t you, ticklish boy?” Vivian asked, sweetly. “I’m gonna give you all the tickles you could ever want. Coochie coochie coo!” Kyle bucked violently against the bed, up until the moment where his fatigue rendered his reactions flaccid and weary. As the tickles continued to pour in through his pits from every scribble of Vivian’s ten sharp, sturdy nails, Kyle’s natural response fell into a crying surrender. His body, little more than a quivering vessel for the tickles to rush through, twitched and churned against the bed, unable to keep up with the ravaging whirlwind of sensations gushing through him.

“STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAPPPP!! PLEEAAHAHAHAHSSEEE!!!” Kyle yelled. With a watchful eye, Vivian gave Kyle’s delicate pits one lasting moment of vicious, ticklish clawing before finally pulling back. The boy had had enough, possibly more so. Tears stained his cheeks that gleamed with sweat and blush. His hair matted in clumps, his chest rising and falling in egregious intervals. Kyle, still pressed against the bed, collapsed in exhaustion. His eyes fell closed, his arms and legs no longer pulled. The boy resided to a stasis of simply wheezing deeply to catch his winded breath.

“You did so good,” Vivian said. The woman sat by his side. She stroked his sweat-drenched hair out of his face and smiled. “It’s over now. You’ve had enough.” Through Kyle’s fatigue, he managed the faintest of agreements with a slight nod and a restful smile. He sniffled a bit, his cheeks still red and puffy. 

“Th… that… was…” Kyle began, “... r-really… good…”

“Awww, you liked it, huh?” Vivian asked. “Was it what you were expecting?” Kyle paused between sounds, still breathing heavily as Vivian stayed with him in his recovery.

“B… better,” he muttered. “Y-you’re… really good…” Vivian smiled.

“Thanks, sweetie,” she said. “As long as you still liked it, that’s all that matters.” She stroked his hair some more, beginning to unlace the knot around his wrist on that side of the bed. 

“C-can we… do more later?” Kyle asked. Vivian recoiled a bit and grinned. The devilish extent of his torture seemed to do little to diminish his enthusiasm. She began to conceive of other ways to indulge the young man’s ticklish fantasy, all of which she recalled being fully doable within her means. Vivian snickered a bit.

“We’ll just have to see,” Vivian said, her tone mirroring that of Madam Lucia in Kyle’s mind. Behind closed eyes, he could see the character’s face looming over him as she plotted his devastating tickle torture, the warmth from her body closing in around him, and the touch that rendered the fallen hero as helpless as Kyle wished to remain. “But I suspect that it will be more than enough to get you screaming even louder than this.”