Ticklish Little Spy (Patreon)

(FF/M, foot tickling)

‘Darkness is my canvas and fighting is my art’. This was the motto that flashed through Troy’s mind as he swiftly darted through the ultra super secret government facility. He stayed low. Hidden. Listening to the ground for his pursuers. No matter how quietly he moved, Troy could do nothing to silence the pounding of his heart against his chest. His mouth hung open to ease deep gulps of air in and out. Sweat fell down the side of his face. Stealthily, he glided through the halls, keeping a close ear out for any footsteps following him. He became wary of every creek of the floor. He noted every little shift of his environment, down to the slightest change in temperature. Being as observant as a hard taught lesson from his early days training at Spy Academy.

For still being a junior on the force, Troy Yates was heavily prided for being one of the greatest spies ever from the day he joined. He was swift and nimble. He was quick on his feet, his skills even earning him a spot on the JV baseball team. Being as young as he was, many of the assignments he was given to carry out involved his specialty in blending in where others would stand out. Places like parks, youth centers, and high schools were often where he was sent for dangerous missions. Troy was a self-described expert at undercover espionage. He would often isolate himself at home and in classrooms to listen in on the conversations around him, covertly collecting information. He was always a meek, smaller boy, which made him perfect for blending in and retaining a trustworthy rapport.

But with how much he knew, Troy often had a target on his back. Troy’s mind was an endless vault of valuable information. Fortunately, much of his spy training involved withstanding nearly all forms of torture to make sure none of it leaked. Many organizations hunted him down. Some even managed to catch the boy, torturing him endlessly to get him to share what he knows. But Troy never did. With the help of his Maternal Operative Monitor to assist him on his missions, Troy continuously proved himself to be the best spy at Spy Academy.

Troy flew through the shadows of the darkened ultra super secret government facility. Luckily for him, the plush carpet seemed to muffle the sounds of his footsteps. Troy had taken extra precaution in the matter by removing his shoes, electing to complete the mission in only his short, white ankle socks. The layout of the building was strikingly similar to that of his aunt’s house, going so far as to replicate the family pictures of the two of them at Disneyland and the beach. Troy’s mission was one of reconnaissance. He had been sent by his Maternal Operative Monitor to gather information on a super dangerous threat to national security. Luckily, he had completed his mission in overhearing the plan of attack. Unfortunately though, he knew that they had discovered his infiltration. They were actively scanning the facility for his whereabouts. The head of the facility personally was on the job hunting him down.

Troy ducked into the shadows of what looked to be an ordinary guest bedroom, but he knew better than to trust their disguises. What seemed to be a quaint little bedroom was simply a cover for a weapons manufacturing plant. Footsteps from the hallway closed in on his location. Honing in on his heightened reflexes, Troy dropped down to the floor and slid himself under the bed. He had plenty of room to fit and did so at an angle where he could keep an eye on the door. The boy steadied his breathing. He wiped his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes. As proficient as he was at camouflage, he had found himself in a compromising position, unable to adequately hide if he were to be caught. Troy made a contingency plan on the fly. Should he be found, he would make a mad dash for the door and hope for the best.

His heart jumped a little as the door slowly creaked open. Troy placed his hand over his mouth. He watched as the feet of the facility head herself walked into the room.

“Oh Troy,” she said, in an almost sing-songy voice. “Come out, come out, wherever you are…” Troy stayed perfectly still and absolutely quiet. He kept an eye on her feet as she walked in and around the bed. “Come on out Troy. We just want to talk.” It was a trick. Sounding like a sweet older lady not unlike his aunt Cassidy was simply a ploy to get him to let his guard down. But Troy was an expert spy, determined to not fall for such a trick a second time. He stayed as quiet as a mouse.

“Oh well, I guess Troy’s not here either,” the woman said with a sigh. “I guess I’ll just have to…” Her voice trailed off. Troy breathed an air of relief. He kept his eyes on the woman’s feet. She walked to the far corner of the bed. Troy’s heart nearly burst at feeling a hard grasp latch onto his ankle. “Gotcha!”

Troy yelped. He scrambled to his hands and feet as quickly as he could to dart out from beneath the bed. He tried to pull his ankle free from the facility head’s grasp, but she held on tight.

“Can’t run away now, can you?” she taunted. Troy managed to crawl out from beneath the bed, but not out of the woman’s tight hold. With one hand around his ankle, she managed to rip off his sock with the other. Troy’s eyes widened. He knew that the woman who caught him specialized in a specific kind of torture, the only one that he was never able to endure.

“No!” Let me go,” Troy pleaded. The woman chuckled.

“Uh oh, look what I found,” she continued. Troy watched her smile as she kept a tight grip on his foot. He saw it bare in her hand, vulnerable to her will. Her other hand scribbled her nails in the air just off of his sole. For a moment while watching, a smile crept onto Troy’s face.

“Nooooheehee, anything but that,” he said, already starting to laugh.

“Awww, is the baby boy giving up already?” she asked him. Troy bit his lip and thought for a moment.

“N-no?” he said, smirking. He clenched up and prepared himself.

“Okay!” the playfully acting facility head said. Five long, candy red nails descended onto Troy’s bare sole. They were still scribbling and did so rapidly against his foot. Troy squealed out loud, falling back onto the floor and yelping with laughter.

“Naaaahahahahahahahahaaaaaa!!” Troy laughed. The boy thrashed against the floor, rolling side to side while his aunt kept a firm grip on his foot. She braced it further by wrapping her arm around his ankle, able to more freely scratch at his bare sole with all five nails. She traced all over his squirming foot. She skittered her fingers across his velvety soft heel and worked her way up his arch. She laughed as she dug into the little wrinkles that formed. Her nails feasted wildly on the boy’s ticklish foot.

“You ready to get caught?” the woman asked. Her nails drove down into the soft, humid crevasse beneath his toes, scribbling against the short stems. Troy howled louder. His laughter filled the bedroom and most of the upstairs hall.

“Aaaaaahhahahahahaha nahahahat there!!!” Troy screamed. His hands reached for his foot, but fell back with the impulsive flailing of his body. His aunt explored his whole ticklish sole, expertly navigating some of the most responsive nerve endings of his entire body. “Okaahahahahahay!! Okaaaakakakayy!! You got meeeheheheheheee!!”

Troy’s aunt Cassidy gave the boy’s foot a few more devious tickles for good measure before letting go. Troy fell back against the carpet. His body laid limp. He held his hand to his chest as he panted heavily.

“Alright then,” said Cassidy, “you know what happens to spies that get caught.” An instinctive grin came to Troy’s face. It was already starting to blush a cheeky shade of pink. He pushed himself to sit up.

“Oh boy,” Troy said a reactionary phrase riding a hard exhale.

“Unless you’re too big now that you’re in high school,” Cassidy said. Troy rubbed his head and looked away.

“No, no, I… I wanna…” Troy said. His voice was meek and low, shyly fading off to the side.

“Oh you ‘wanna’, huh?” Cassidy asked, her eyebrow cocked upward. “Well then maybe I need to step my game up.”

“N-no, I mean… you’ll never make me talk,” Troy said, half-heartedly trying to stay in character. “N-no matter what you do, I’ll never talk.” Cassidy chuckled.

“We’ll see about that,” she said with a snicker.

‘Spy Interrogation’ was one of several games that Troy would play with his aunt Cassidy, all following a similar theme. Both would entertain one another with various characters and scenarios, yet the games always ended the same way. As a boy, Troy had developed an affinity toward tickling. Specifically being tickled and more specifically being tickled on his feet. Once he discovered this passion through passive experience, the itching to be tickled kept recycling through his mind. He would often go around barefoot, drop hints at how ticklish he was, and would always seem to have his feet put into vulnerable positions wherein they would fall victim to some scribbling fingers.

As much as Troy unabashedly loved the rush, aunt Cassidy always seemed to love it just as much. Troy’s mother would also entertain his impish attempts at making himself a tickle victim, but the act became a special bond between him and his aunt. She was a youthful, energetic woman, always striving to put on a good show. Troy was no exception. She would pin the boy down and tickle him into a squirming, giggling mess. She would catch one of Troy’s attention-craving feet and play particularly ticklish rounds of ‘this little piggy’. Many games the two would play would involve tickling in one form or another, many of which the pair invented themselves.

As Troy grew older, his enthusiasm in such childish acts started to fade away, but the memories played over and over again like dreams of better days. The play, the games, the days filled with carefree laughter all became home movies to replay in his mind. While he continued to mature into a sprouting, quiet teenager, Troy never shook the underlying desire to be tickled. It had started to seem strange to him, like something he could no longer be so open with. Troy chalked the change to just another part of growing up, just another example of suppressing childish behaviors. Still, the thought lingered within him whenever he would see tickle scenes in movies and remember the ‘interrogation’ plays his aunt would put him through. Or when he would see a feather and recall back to how much her feathers always tickled. Or just whenever he would hear the word ‘tickle’ and could hear the baby talk teasing that would make the tickling so much more intense somehow.

Though he often found himself suppressing the thoughts around his peers, Troy’s love for being tickled never became diminished by maturity in the eyes of his aunt. Well into his sophomore year, he could still rely on her to treat him just like she did when he was little. She would sneak little tickles here and there. He would still ask to play the games that they used to. Both would spend hours reliving those more carefree days as if no time had passed at all.

Cassidy led Troy by the arm downstairs. Her house was impressively sized for a suburban contemporary. Having most of her work being done from home, Cassidy was keen on keeping it clean and well decorated. She would often host gatherings, both for business and pleasure, and put a significant amount of effort into its presentation. Keeping a firm hold on Troy, she eagerly led him down into a room that she referred to as ‘her studio’. Surrounded by red walls with vaguely floral patterns, cameras along with lighting and sound equipment stood around waiting for the next big job. A large wardrobe stood against one wall. Screens and set pieces took up whole sections of the room, but the furniture stationed throughout was much more prominent and eye-catching. They were all a part of a collection of utility pieces that Cassidy would use for work, her ‘shoots’ as she called them, but for the day, they were devices that served to interrogate clumsy spies into spilling all of their secrets.

“In here,” Cassidy ordered, pulling Troy along. Troy pretended to struggle slightly, but made no real effort to get free. She giggled slightly at the sight of her own padded stockade, an adjustable seat fitted with a sturdy pair of stocks at the bottom. The leather of the pads was slightly worn and the belted straps at several junctions showed signs of tensile stress, but the device sat in the center of the room, as sturdy as it had been for years. Troy struggled to keep up with his character through the smirk that tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Do whatever you want with me, I’ll never talk,” Troy said. They were lines he had said time and time again. It was usually around this time that the authenticity of his character would start to break for a giddiness not conducive to professional spy work.

“Oh I think you will,” Cassidy said, leading him over to the stockade. “We have ways of making cute little spies like you talk.” Troy blushed. His aunt playfully forced him down onto the seat. He maintained just enough of a role by having his aunt move him how she needed him, but not so much that he struggled against her. Cassidy was not a frail woman of her age by any means. She boasted a body sculpted by years of daily workouts to keep her looking fit and young. She quickly had Troy sitting upright in the stockade. He sat with a defiant expression while she ran straps across his chest and waist, pinning his arms down by his sides.

“You’ll never get anything out of me,” Troy said. “Whatever you’re going to do to me, I can take it.” He turned his nose up proudly.

“Aww, you’re cute,” Cassidy commented. She smirked as she lifted his legs and forced his ankles down into the grooves of the open stocks. Cassidy closed the stocks down around the tops of his ankles, locking them shut. Troy’s heart leapt. He looked down and could just barely see the tips of his toes poking up over the top, still only one protected by a sock. “You see, I know just how to get cute little spies like you to spill all kinds of secrets.” Troy’s eyes widened as he observed Cassidy inch closer to his trapped, stocked feet. Her fingers wiggled eagerly in the air.

“You’re bluffing,” Troy said, his voice starting to waver. “Y-you know nothing…”

“Oh, but I know enough, I assure you,” Cassidy said. “And I believe you already know my methods…” Her tone as the ‘villain’ was light and playful, teasing and sadistic. She looked down to Troy’s feet and pinched the tip of his sock. “Now, what do I have here, I wonder…” She slowly began pulling it up, unveiling Troy's other blushing sole like a curtain. Troy felt every little bit of the sock sliding off. He experienced every second of his foot becoming more and more prepared for torturous tickles.

Cassidy squeaked with delight as she popped it off of his foot completely. She looked down to both of Troy’s soft, blushing bare feet like kittens ready to be played with. A distinct tingle began to sparkle through his feet, as if his nerves were making him wholly aware of just how ticklish and vulnerable he was.

“Uh oh, looks like someone lost his other sock,” Cassidy said. Troy shifted anxiously in his seat. “What ever should I do with such precious looking feetsies all locked up and helpless? Sure would be a shame if they were just as ticklish as they are adorable. Because I just love tickling little spies that won’t tell me what I want to hear.” One long nail ran a swift swipe against his bare sole. Troy's body jerked against the straps holding him down. He let out a sharp yelp, followed by a series of twitching giggles. Cassidy giggled back with her own taunting laughter. “Oh that’s right, I almost forgot… they are.”

Five nails suddenly launching into a scribbly flurry against Troy’s sole made the boy jump in his seat. He gave fleeting, half-hearted pleas, before succumbing to a flood of ticklish laughter. Cassidy snickered and grinned through her own playful indulgence. She scratched lightly with a wide clawing motion all over Troy’s helpless foot. Any tough spy character that Troy had managed to hold onto until that point was dropped completely. Suddenly, he was just a severely ticklish boy at the mercy of the best tickler he knew.

“Eeeehhheheehahahahahaaaaa!!! Nahahahahahaaaat my feeeheehhehehehehet!!” Troy cried out. He shifted against the straps holding him in the stockade. He was no stranger to the stocks, or any tools in his aunt Cassidy’s collection of tickle toys, but not being able to move his feet always added a thrilling degree of intensity to their play. Cassidy, a professional in the world of tickling, knew well how to make the most of Troy’s position.

“Aww, look at baby boy Troy and his ticklish widdle feet,” Cassidy taunted. The ‘baby’ tone in her voice left Troy blushing and screaming louder. Her nails skittered and scratched, but even at a casual pace, the tickles that shot up from his sole had him begging through his laughter. His shaggy brown hair flung side to side with his head. His slender frame sat powerless in the stockade that held him down. Cassidy smirked and watched his foot closel as it tried to flail its way to freedom.

“Pleehehehehahahasseee!!! Thahahahaaat ticklesss soooaahahahah maahahach!!” Troy shouted. Cassidy laughed.

“I know it does, sweetie,” Cassidy said. “Maybe baby boy spies shouldn’t have such ticklish feetsies. Makes it really easy to get information out of them. And really, really fun.” Cassidy smiled a devilish grin. Her nails scribbled up and down Troy’s defenseless sole. I blushed bright pink as if signaling the best places to tickle. Troy’s foot was as warm and soft as it had always been. The quick darting of her nails up from his heel to the base of his toes left Troy thrashing in his seat. Every little swipe became another flurry of laughs forced out of the boy. When she reached up to the base of his toes, she pulled back to let him breathe. “Tsk, tsk, can’t have you passing out on me. These adorable little feetsie weetsies are just too much fun to play with. Plus, we don’t want to leave out the toesie woesis.” Troy’s breath got caught in his throat.

“N-no… pl-please… not… my toes…” Troy begged. Cassidy gave him a coy look, as if she had not heard him beg to have his toes tickled a thousand times before. But she played her role just as he kept playing his.

“Aww, but these toesies look so cute,” Cassidy said. “And look. They’re all mine. And I’m gonna tickle them extra now that you asked so nicely.” Still sticking to one hand per foot, she raised her nails once again. She danced them in the air for Troy to see before bringing them down on his bare toes. Troy immediately let out a howling scream that quickly melted into a flurry of wild laughter.

“Aaaaaaahhhhhahahahahahahahaaa!!! Naahahahahahaha!!!” Troy cried out. His toes wiggled and squirmed against the fingers toying with them. He could move them in no way that would stop Cassidy from releasing wave after wave of tickles through him. Cassidy’s nails scraped against his bubbly, pink pads. They danced across the tips and fidgeted their way underneath. Troy squealed and bucked, shrieking with laughter to the ticklish teasing of his toes.

“Someone’s got ticklish little toesies,” Cassidy said, laughing along. “Mmm, you know what? Take your time giving in. I do love playing with ticklish spies who won’t cooperate. Coochie coochie coo….” Every word was like its own tickle to the senses, a multiplier in Troy’s overall stimulation. His cheeks glowed a bright red. His chest heaved. Tears began forming in the corners of his eyes. Troy had quickly reached one of his favorite moments in the game, laughing too hard to be able to speak even if he wanted to. He always knew that his aunt Cassidy would be an excellent real world interrogator.

Cassidy delighted herself in Troy's sweet laughter until it began to fade. She chuckled and pulled back, giving him another chance to catch his breath. Troy sucked in deep gulps of air. He knew that Cassidy was far from done, or at least he hoped. He smiled weakly back at her. His face gleamed with sweat. His arms and legs shivered in their binds. His feet tingled, residual tickles from knowing how trapped he still was in a room with a professional tickle torturer.

Before Cassidy could open her mouth to speak, the distant sound of a door opening upstairs caught them both by surprise. A voice chimed out to lift the mystery almost instantly.

"Hello? Cass?" rang out the voice of her sister and Troy’s mother. Cassidy looked back to the boy and grinned.

"We're in the studio," Cassidy called out. "Come down here and join us." Troy swallowed, his face burning brighter than before. His heart jolted upon hearing the footsteps of his mother clicking closer against the stairs.

"What are you guys up to down here?" Rosie asked from about halfway down. When she reached the bottom, she paused. Her eyes narrowed curiously onto the scene.

"Well, I've caught a little spy that snuck into my office to steal some top secret government files," Cassidy said, playing up her role with campy exaggeration. "So I brought him down here to see if he'd be so kind as to share with me what he knows."

Troy gazed upon his Maternal Operative Monitor, the agent who had sent him to gather the intel. His strong, stoic demeanor stood firm in the face of his own supposed downfall. He looked to his ally, clearly having infiltrated the facility to provide backup. He knew he needed to communicate to her the direness of the situation, but he needed to do so as subtly as possible.

“Mom, let me out!” Troy said with an air of desperation that betrayed his disposition. “She’s torturing me. Please help me!” Rosie stared back at her son and sister. She let out a soft chuckle before giving Troy a distinctive look.

“I know, sweetie,” said his mother Rosie, slipping into character. “You see, it was me that told her that you’d be here.” Troy’s heart leapt. Rosie walked up to the bottom of the stocks, where Troy’s feet hung isolated and trapped. “And it was me who told her the best way to get you to talk.” Hearing his mother assume a role on the fly caught him off guard. He sat speechless. The women chuckled at his shocked expression.

“It’s true,” said Cassidy, improving along. “She told me all about your little weakness, about how ticklish you are on your widdle feetsies.”

His mother Rosie shared many of Cassidy’s features, but held herself with a hardened posture. She had several years over her younger sister, a bridge of time that left her with a more mature and conservative demeanor. Though when it came to Troy and Cassidy’s bouts of ticklish play, Rosie always found the stories quite amusing.

Troy gulped. He struggled in his straps, harder than before against Cassidy’s professional-grade bondage equipment. Cassidy put her hands on her hips and watched the boy continued to squirm. His chest rose and fell in deep, rhythmic patterns. His eyes darted back and forth between his mom and his aunt staring down his bare feet with devious intent.

“Looks like you’ve both been having so much fun,” Rosie said. Up next to the stocks, she reached down and ran the pads of her fingertips swiftly up Troy’s sole. He let out a hard gasp and flinched against the straps. His eyes fell to her hand, watching it without so much as a single blink. “Aww, shame I couldn’t be by sooner.”

“You want a turn now?” Cassidy asked. “These little tootsies can take a lot of tickling.” Troy shivered. He swallowed through a nervous lump in his throat. His mother turned to him with a cheeky grin.

“Oh I know they can,” Rosie said. “How could I pass up such an opportunity to tickle these adorable little feetsies?” Troy’s mother chuckled and knelt down at the end of the stockade, coming face to face with her son’s stocked bare feet.

“M-mom…” Troy stuttered. He challenged the urge to beg, confused by what he would end up begging for. Rosie ignored him. She studied the foot in front of her.

“Awww, look at these cute little tootsies,” she commented. “All wrapped up for me to play with.”

“I know,” Cassidy said. “Except they’re not so little anymore.”

“I know, when did these feet get so big?” Rosie asked. The women laughed.

“All the more to tickle, I say,” Cassidy said.

“You know what I heard?”

“What?”

“I heard that Troy here has especially ticklish piggies,” Rosie said. Cassidy laughed.

“I was just playing with some piggies when you came in,” she said. “I could have sworn I heard them squealing.”

“Oh, they do,” Rosie said. “They like to dance around shouting ‘tickle me, tickle me’ all day long!”

“Haha, you know, I think I heard that too,” Cassidy added. "Just look at those little toesies squirm. Such adorable little pink piggies just begging to be tickled."

"And I know for a fact that Troy here absolutely loves having his cute little piggies played with," Rosie continued. Troy panted and shook his head.

"N-no, please," he begged. "D-don't… don't play…" Rosie, kneeling down in front of her  teenage son's blushing soles, reached up and pinched his big toe. Cassidy watched on, her lips pulled up high in a wide smile.

"This little piggy went to market…" Rosie said, wiggling his big toe. Troy clenched up, his cheeks turning a brighter pink. Rosie added soft scratching from her nail to each toe as she worked her way down the row.

"Nnneeeeheheheheeeeee!!" Troy squealed. His giggles poured into a continuous stream as his mother gave him little time to compose between toes.

"This little piggy stayed home," she continued. She wiggled the next toe and gave the stem a little scribble. Troy's toes curled into little pink pearls. As Rosie pinched the next, they loosened back up, as if encouraging her on. "This little piggy had roast beef."

"Naaahahahhe-aaahhht my toes-eeehaha!" Troy continued to laugh. His eyes clenched. His head shook side to side. Each little pinch of the tips of his toes sent bursts of tickles all through his body, but it was the added scratches that left him perpetually laughing.

"This little piggy had none," Rosie said. Her grin was devious; impish yet sweet. Each of Troy's ticklish toes were entirely under her mercy. She slowly glided from the forth to the fifth, the smallest toe. Troy barely had enough time to brace himself before her limerick started coming to an end. "And this little piggy…" Rosie loaded up on his anticipation. She bit her lip and met her son’s nervous glance. “Went ‘weeee weeee weeeee’ all the way home!”

Rosie wiggled Troy’s smallest toe for a moment before launching into a frenzy of scribbling tickles all over Troy’s sole. The eccentric loading of the tension all came to a head. Troy exploded with a mad surge of wild laughter.

“AAAAAHHHAHAHAHHAHAAAAAHAHAHA!!! NAHAHAHAHAHA THEHEHEH PIGGIESSSHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!” Troy yelled. His laughter filled the room, loud enough to be heard throughout the whole house. He twisted and pulled in his binds. His head flailed. His toes curled, but could do nothing to stop the flood of tickles from filling his body. His mother relentlessly attacked his warm, delicate sole with an onslaught of tickles. Cassidy watched on and giggled.

“Awww, I love that game!’ she said. “I wanna play now!” Cassidy came down to her knees and inched closer to Troy’s other foot. She watched the boy melt into hysterics, his face beaming red.

“Please do, it’s so much fun,” Rosie said. Cassidy followed through the limerick to the motions slowly, deliberately making sure Troy felt every single touch.

“This widdle piggy went to market…” Cassidy started. Rosie was still scratching tickles all over Troy's other sole. His laughter became more desperate and exhausted, but still with a slight twinkle of enjoyment.

“NNNAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!!! STTAHAHAHAHAHAPPP!! NNAAHAHAHAOO PIGGIESSS!!!!” Troy pleaded. The women smirked, looking at each other with each new explosive reaction.

“This widdle piggy stayed home..” Cassidy said, still mocking with her baby voice. She wiggled each toe back and forth before sliding one nail underneath for quick scribbles. Troy threw his head back with booming laughter, unable to fight back against the tickles dancing along his nerves.

“EEEEKKKKAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!” Troy screamed. Tears began falling down his cheeks. His hands clenched into fists. His body pulled at the straps, unable to achieve much more than a twitch.

“This widdle piggy had roast beef…” Cassidy continued. She gave special attention to each toe, each bringing a new, yet no less intense, surge of tickles. “This widdle piggy had none…”

“NAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!! NOOO MORREEHHEEEHEEAHAHAH!!!” Troy shouted. Cassidy wore an eager, impatient grin. She lightly pinched the smallest of his little toes.

“And this widdle piggy…” she said, louder than before to make sure he could still hear. “We ‘weeeeeeeee weee wee’ all the way home!” As she had before Cassidy unleashed all five scribbling nails against the boy’s sole. Troy’s laughter, for a moment, fell silent. It had been reduced to but a few gasps and cries. Soon after though, as both women treated themselves to Troy’s hyper sensitive soles, the screaming laughter returned.

“NNAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAAA!!!!” Troy screamed. As much as he enjoyed being tickled and would often instigate it, he was almost positive that his feet could not handle so much from both at once. An explosion of tickles shot through him from both soles. The scribbles were constant, yet still reserved to a degree lost on Troy’s fractured mind. All he knew, all he could comprehend, were the raging sensations that tortured his most sensitive spots.

“Tickle, tickle, tickle, little baby boy Troy,” said Cassidy, raking her nails from the base of his toes down to his heel. She used her other hand to hold the foot steady. Rosie focused her nails to work in between the boy’s toes. She flossed each one with delicate, mind-melting scratches. Troy continued to burst with screaming laughter. Tears rolled down his burning cheeks. His body, tired from jerking against the binds, almost slumped back in defeat. His chest heaved deeply to keep up with the uncontrollable laughter tearing through him.

When Cassidy and Rosie finally pulled back, Troy sucked in a deep, groaning breath. His eyes had begun to roll back. Sweat clung his hair to his forehead. Troy could only gasp until he began breathing normally.

“Do you think he’s ready to talk yet?” Rosie asked. Cassidy smirked.

“Hmmm, I don’t know,” she said. “But I think I might have a few things that could convince him. Something baby boy Troy will really love.”

She stood from where she knelt and walked over to the side of the room. She walked up to the wardrobe standing against the wall between some discarded sound equipment and an old trunk of sorts. Cassidy opened it to reveal a colorful collection of tools and toys. Brushes, pinwheels, coils of rope. Against the interior of the door hung an assortment of feathers all ranging in different sizes, shades, and textures. Cassidy stood before them and examined her assembly.

"Now which one, I wonder," she pondered out loud. She let the moment last to allow Troy time to recover. He watched her closely as she contemplated her options. “Hmmm, how about… all of these.” Cassidy grabbed four long, stiff feathers. Two were white, one was darker and more gray, and the other was a light yellow. All were large with slivered, firm edges. Cassidy made sure Troy saw her selections.

“N-no… not… the feathers… ple-please…” Troy begged.

“Aww, but I know how much you love the feathers,” Cassidy said. She walked back over and held them out for Rosie. “Here you are, miss. Pick two.” Rosie looked over the four. She thought for a moment, or at least pretended to, before picking up the yellow feather and one of the white ones.

“These seem good for tickling little feetsie weetsies,” Rosie said. Her giggle was unusually cheerful. Her eyes gleamed. Through his own fluttering gaze, Troy thought he saw her wink.

“Oh, very,” Cassidy said. “Troy’s especially are very responsive to the feathers, aren’t they, Troy?” Troy swallowed again. His face burned. His hands shook. His eyes looked warily onto the colorful plumes in the hands of his captors, but his lips still managed a smile.

“Please not the feathers… please, my feet can’t handle it…” Troy said through deep heaves. His voice shook. Troy was not sure when the game ceased being a spy interrogation and started being nothing more than his own ticklish torment.

“You realize that saying that only makes us want to tickle you more, right?” Cassidy asked. Troy stared back speechless.

“I think that’s what he wants though,” Rosie replied. Cassidy laughed.

“Aww, I know it is,” she said, waving her feathers in the air. “Let’s not keep him waiting then.”

Troy regained just enough composure in the moment to watch the two women bring the feathers down to his feet. The first swipe against his sole, Troy lurched in the seat. All of his most exhausted muscles contracted at once. He threw his head back again for another shriek into silent hysteria. A bursting surge of tickles shot up through him. The nerves of his feet ignited, exploding in a furious storm of absolute ticklishness. After the moment of initial contact had passed, Troy ‘s screaming laughter returned in full force.

“NNNNAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAAAAA!!!!!! NAAHAHAHAHAHATTT THE FEAAAAHAHAHATHERSSS!!!” Troy cried out. The feathers brushed slowly down the lengths of his arches, tormenting every ticklish nerve they passed over. His laughter sang out with complete desperation, mirroring the paramount extents it would reach when he was a little boy. The women drank it all in. They giggled and teased, encouraged by his heightened pitch.

“It seems Troy’s tootsies really like the feathers,” Cassidy said, tracing the plume around his heel and across his arch. “Tickle, tickle, tickle!”

“I think so,” said Rosie. “Look at Troy’s big boy feetsies squirm around. Coochi coochie coo…”

“How about we give them more feather tickles?” Cassidy asked. “Maybe in these widdle piggies.”

“Good idea!” Rosie said. “I think they can handle it.” Troy thrashed his head side to side. Before his mind could fully grasp what had all been said, the other feathers came down onto his toes. One seemed to lightly tease along the pads, bubbly and clenched for protection. The other was plunged down in between his toes. The fibrous edge flossed and sawed between each one back and forth, over and over again. The other feathers kept a lazy pace in brushing up and down his soles. Troy’s mouth burst another eruption of shrieking laughter.

“AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!!!! NANANANANAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAHA!! STAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!” Troy exploded into an hysterical frenzy. All four feathers feasted on the delicate nerves cursing his feet. With one at each sole and another at each set of toes, Troy’s feet became engulfed in a ticklish inferno. The women giggled along and continued to tease him.

“Look at those cute little piggies,” Rosie said. “I think we should go through each of them again, don’t you, Cass?”

“Oh yeah, totally!,” Cassidy said. “I’ll start! This widdle piggy went to market…”

Cassidy started up the limerick again, but elected to lick each toe with the feather instead. The flared end brushed all along each toe, working in between and underneath for each ‘widdle piggy’. Troy howled through it all. Cassidy’s round seemed to last much longer than the previous one. Sweat poured down the boy’s face. His arms and legs grew sore, jerking against the straps holding him down. Rosie started her own round of piggies as soon as Cassidy finished hers. She did much the same, using the feather to tease Troy’s squirmy toes. The pair continued to taunt the boy with baby talk and teasing phrases. Troy’s laughter began to fall silent again after Rosie finished the lines.

“You give up?” Cassidy asked loudly. Troy could still only laugh. It took about another minute before he could manage a real word.

“AAAHAHAHAHAHAAAHAHAHAHAHAAA!!! YEEHEHEEHSSSS!!!” Troy shouted.

All at once, the feathers fell from Troy’s feet. They hung limp in the stocks, blushing a bright, warm shade. Troy could only breath, first in gasps, then in deep, gulping heaves. His head fell back. His eyes closed. His chest and stomach ached while his throat ran sore from the constant streams of laughter. He still managed a smile, though the aftermath of his ticklish exhaustion left him unable to do much else.

“I knew you’d break eventually,” Cassidy said. She stood and took her and Rosie’s feathers back to the wardrobe.

“Here, let me get him some water,” Rosie said. She pushed herself to her feet and made her way up the stairs to the kitchen. Cassidy walked up to Troy to begin loosening his straps.

“Such a sleepy boy now, aren’t you?” Cassidy said with a light chuckle. Troy remained silent, though responded by widening his grin. “Just rest now. You’ll be alright.”

“Th-thanks…” Troy said through a hard sigh. “Y-you’re… good….”

“I know,” said Cassidy. She stroked his hair out of his face. She wiped his forehead of its sweat before pecking the boy with a little kiss.

“C-can I… c-come over… next week?” Troy asked, his voice grainy and sleepy. Cassidy grinned.

“Of course,” Cassidy said. “My ticklish little spy.”