City Boy's Ticklish Feet (Patreon)

FF/M

Trevor thought he knew the meaning of ‘nothing to do’. The phrase was a popular hyperbole for general boredom, often getting thrown around lazy, rainy days or long car rides with barren understanding. However, upon visiting Uncle Merle’s and Aunt Girdy’s farm, a more transparent meaning to the phrase began to take shape, as he truly felt that there was nothing to be done. Nothing to engage his interests, nothing to make the time go by faster, nothing to really even accomplish moment by moment. Nothing worthwhile, anyway. His aunt and uncle had made accommodations to provide board games to play, music to listen to, food to eat, and local activities to occupy the time. But Trevor grew bored of the games upon looking at them, groaned through the twangy droning of country music, had no taste for the dried fruits and vegetables provided, and wanted little to nothing to do with the local community.

There was no wifi where Trevor’s parents had sent him. He checked on his phone about every five minutes. The boy being there was an effort to expose him to distant family, relatives that he had not seen in years and who never got around to visiting him in the city. The two worlds could not have been more different. An hour out in the lifeless countryside of his aunt and uncle’s farm felt like a day in his time. His cousins did what they could to entertain the boy while his uncle worked the fields and his aunt tended to the chores. To Trevor, it was like being sent back in time.

“Hey, Trevor, wanna go stick fishin’ tomorrow?” asked his cousin, Brett. Brett’s question snapped Trevor out of a daze of staring out of the boy’s bedroom window. At sixteen, both Brett and Trevor had grown into completely different people, more strangers than actual strangers. Brett was tall and built wide, both in muscle and gut. His hair was a mess and he smacked his lips when he spoke. Trevor looked over at him, truly puzzled as to whether he was serious or not.

“‘Stick fishing’?” Trevor asked, as if trying to replicate speech from a language he had never heard before. “What’s that?”

“You never been stick fishin’?” asked Dale, piping up from the other end of the room. Dale was the younger brother, a feisty little creature beaming with energy. He was careless and wild and always seemed to have a little bit of dirt smeared somewhere on his body. He wore ripped overalls and went everywhere barefoot. Both brothers did. In contrast, Trevor sat around wearing designer shorts, a tee shirt with the New York Giants logo on the front, and a clean pair of Nikes. His shaggy brown hair hung down against his neck and partially in front of his face.

“No,” Trevor said, pushing his hair out of his face. His voice had a passive aggressive bite to it that may have been noticeable to his friends back home, but both cousins seemed to gloss right by it.

“Oh, it’s so much fun, Tre,” Brett said. “It’s a game. You see, you go out and you find the best stick you can find. Then you make yourself a lure outta some string or twine and a hook or somethin’ and you see who can catch the biggest fish in the pond.”

“It’s the best, Tre,” Dale added. “I once caught me a sucker carp the size of my leg with a boot lace and a rusty nail!”

“Ye can’t keep tellin’ that story,” Brett fussed. “Ye never measured it and it don’t count if ye lose it before you measure it.”

“But I did catch it,” argued Dale. “And it was jus’ as big as yours. Maybe even bigger.” The bickering between the two was a consistent noise throughout the house, cut off from any surrounding ambient noise. Trevor found it almost entertaining adjacent, if also serving as a constant reminder of the lack thereof.

Trevor stared off in the bedroom. The room had a few amenities that Trevor recognized, though horrendously out of date. Both of his cousins shared a computer, an older model fatback desktop. They had a Sega Genesis hooked up to a CRT with burned screen distortion. They had a small collection of comics, various issues in the middle of different stories. Everywhere he looked, Trevor found something new to kill more of his interest. He turned back to his phone, chipping away at the evening with offline mobile games.

"But naw, Tre, it's so much fun," said Brett. "But we gotta get up early. That's when all the good bitin' happens."

"No thanks, I'm good," said Trevor, not looking up from his screen. "You guys go have fun with that."

"Ooh, or we can go messin’ ‘round on Old Man Barry’s farm,” Dale said. Brett sniffled and wiped his nose on his arm.

“You know he hates it when we go over there,” Brett said.

“Aww, but it’s so much fun, and Tre hasn’t been,” said Dale. He turned his attention toward Trevor. Old Man Barry’s got all kinds of neat stuff. Old cars, a bunch of old stuff actually, plus a bunch of different critters. Pigs, goats, sheep, he keeps ‘em all!”

“Yeah?” Trevor asked blankly. The prospect of seeing something new certainly got his attention.

“Yeah,” said Dale. “Ye ain’t tired, are ya? It’s not that far, but still a walk.”

“No,” said Trevor, shrugging his shoulders. “You planning to go now?”

“Yeah, ye gotta go at night or else he’ll catch ya,” Dale said. “Wha’dya say?” Trevor thought for a second. He huffed and smirked, the itch to do or see anything exciting driving a reserve of unspent energy.

“Alright, sounds good,” Trevor said.

“Yeah, aight get up,” said Dale.

“That sounds better than stick fishin’?” Brett asked.

“We can still go stick fishin’ later,” said Dale. “We gotta go see the animals.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ve seen a pig up close before,” Trevor said. The boys guffawed.

“Dang city boy, you gonna get an eyeful out in Old Man Barry’s,” said Brett with a deep, belly laugh.

“If you say so,” said Trevor, hopping up from the dingy chair in the corner of the room. He stretched out his back. He had been sitting longer than he anticipated. Trevor sighed.

“Aight, but we gotta be quiet,” said Brett. “Don’t want to wake ma ‘n pa.”

“Yep,” Dale added with a nod. The boys approached the door to the bedroom. They seemed to grab nothing, a mundane yet remarkable shift in character from Trevor who took to checking his pocket for his phone about every ten minutes through the day.

“Don’t say nothin’,” Brett said in a whisper. Dale nodded and Trevor simply trailed behind, nothing having much to say anyway. As the boys slipped out of the bedroom, Trevor began to feel the rush of sneaking out, the high from leaving to do something that might get them into trouble. He tried to play it cool and rely on the idea that his cousins knew what they were doing. He walked quietly behind them. They snuck from the bedroom and down the stairs. The old floorboards creaked beneath their feet. A few hesitant pauses between was all the boys needed to know that they were in the clear. They steadily made their way outside into the cold, pitch night.

The boys giggled and raced across the open fields. They had picked up some flashlights from Uncle Merle’s shed. The lights danced and flashed every which way as they raced toward Old Man Barry’s farm. They reached a dirt path and followed it. Brett and Dale giggled as they raced each other. Trevor trailed behind. His breath puffed out from his lips in small clouds that he could barely see. He managed to keep up with his cousins, but not knowing where he was going in the dead of night was weighing on his composure. After about twenty minutes of following the path, they made out the house for Barry’s farm in the distance.

“This is… longer than I expected,” said Trevor, huffing in the back.

“This is nothin’,” said Dale. “Enid’s lake where we go fishin’ is, like, twice as far.” Trevor groaned. His enthusiasm to go fishing greatly lessened, especially after the run in the middle of the night. The boys made their way closer to Old Man Barry’s farm. They passed by grain silos, old car parts gathering weeds, and chicken coops at which Trevor stopped and stole a curious glance. The farm house itself was dark, save for a single light shining from a room on the second floor.

“Is it just the guy?” Trevor asked quietly.

“Naw, he’s got two daughters,” Brett said. “The Mischen Girls, we call ‘em.”

“More like ‘Mischief Girls’,” said Dale.

“They’re not so bad,” Brett said. “Caught us a few times out here. They’re pretty sweet most of the time. They help their old man out on the farm.”

“Remember what they did when we took Jake out this way?” Dale asked. He chuckled. “That was funny!”

“Oh, yeah,” Brett said. “They get into all sorts of things.”

“Oh, okay,” Trevor said, rethinking the plan with more variables with which to get caught. He spoke questingly, still a stranger to the customs of rural life. He stuck to staying behind his cousins. They led him across the yard to the barn behind the house. Along the way, they passed empty pens and more scrap metal.

“Watch yer step,” Brett whispered loudly. “Gotta watch out for rattlers.” Trevor was far too preoccupied on watching the house to pay attention. He merely followed the boys as they came up to the doors of the barn. They quickly loosened the hatch and pulled the door open just enough to slip inside.

“Whew, that took longer than expected,” Trevor said, sighing heavily. Brett laughed heartily.

“Heh heh, yeah, that’s always the hardest part,” Brett said. He and Dale shined their flashlights around the barn interior. They pointed out empty stalls, old equipment, and a sturdy milking station in the center. Hay covered the ground. Rusty tools hung from nails covered in webbing. Another door marked an alternate entrance toward the back of the barn. Trevor caught his breath. He wiped his hair out of his face, his sweat-coated mane weaving between his fingers.

“So, this is it?” Trevor asked, looking around.

“Yup,” said Brett. “Cozy, ain’t it?”

“Looks just like a regular barn, I’d imagine,” said Trevor.

“Nah, there’s tons of cool stuff in here,” Dale added.

“Alright, so, what do you usually do here?” Trevor asked. He proceeded to look around cautiously, not wanting to touch anything anymore than he had to. Dale found a ladder up to the loft above while Brett inspected a collection of tools near the back.

“Usually just hang out,” Dale said. “Sometimes we have cow pie fights.”

“What’s a… cow pie?” Trevor asked. Brett and Dale burst into laughter.

“Man, they don’t teach you city folk nothin!” Brett said loudly.

“No, just… grammar,” Trevor muttered under his breath.

“Cow pies are turds,” Dale said with a little, boyish chuckle.

“Ah,” Trevor said. “Well, I’m not interested in doing that.”

“Nah, we wouldn’t,” said Brett. “Could put you in the milking stand though.”

“The what?” Trevor asked. Brett turned back. She shined his light on the milking stand in the center of the barn. It was propped up slightly on a platform and reminded Trevor of olden style stockades he would see in pictures from Colonial times, used as public punishments. It was wide enough for two animals at once, hosting a pair of holes in between planks of wood that could tighten to fit the size of the animal.

“This ‘ere,” he said. “They use it to milk the goats.”

“And how would I fit in this thing?” Trevor asked.

“He could do the thing we did to Jake that one time,” Dale commented, circling the spot.

“Oh yeah, we could do that,” said Brett.

“Do what?” Trevor asked.

“Nah, this’ll be fun,” said Brett. “Alright get up on it, that big part right there.” Trevor sighed and rolled his eyes. He stepped up onto the wide platform on one side.

“Okay,” he said, disenchanted by their antics.

“Alright, so ye gotta sit, right?” Dale said. Trevor paused before realizing that the boy wanted him to sit. He did so, facing the direction of the planks.

“And then you put your feet in the holes,” said Brett.

“My feet… where?” Trevor asked. He turned to examine the contraption before pointing to the two holes made for the animal's heads. “Here?”

“Yeah,” said Dale. He bounced up and down excitedly.

“And that’ll do what, exactly?”

“Make it so you can’t get out,” Brett said. Trevor furrowed his eyebrows at the boy.

“Okay?” Trevor questioned. “Why would I want that?”

“Cus it’s all in good fun!” Dale said cheerfully.

“Yeah, it’s not like we’re just gonna leave you there,” said Brett. “We just wanna show you.” Trevor used his flashlight to inspect the device further. He groaned a little and rubbed his eyes.

“Alright, what the heck,” Trevor said. “We came out all this way anyway.” He took a seat and managed to slip both of his feet through the holes with ease. Dale came around with Brett to watch. “Okay, now what? I’m just sitting here.”

“Now, we do this,” Brett said. He turned a crank on one side of the device. Steadily, the holes tightened. Trevor merely sat and allowed the crevasses to close around his ankles. Only when he felt all sides tighten to his skin did he start to question further.

“Oh wow, that’s… that’s really tight,” Trevor said. He waved his feet sticking out of the other side of the stand.

“Not too tight, right?” Brett asked.

“I mean, it doesn’t hurt,” Trevor said. “But I can’t… I can’t get them out.”

“That’s the idea,” said Dale.

“The idea for what?”

“We wait to see how long you sit in the stand before telling us to let you out,” said Brett. “It’s a game. Like chicken.”

“Okay,” Trevor said. “Not sure how that’s like chicken if there’s no, like, threat or anything.”

“Hello?” a voice called out from the front double doors. “Who’s there?” Brett and Dale darted their heads toward the voice. Their eyes widened, their necks stiffening at the sound.

“Uh oh,” Brett muttered.

“What?” Trevor asked frantically. “What’s ‘uh oh’?”

“The older one,” said Dale. He turned toward Brett and swallowed. “We gotta go.”

“Yup,” said Brett. He scratched the nape of his neck and backed away toward the other door.

“What?” Trevor asked. “What do you mean, ‘go’? Get me out of here!”

“Sorry Trev,” said Dale. “We’ll… uh… come back for you.” Dale took off running toward the other door with his brother following quickly behind him. They slammed into the wood, unlodging the door from its bar and slipping out into the night. Trevor pulled violently at the stand. He tugged hard to try and get his feet free. He reached up to attempt to turn the crank the other way to loosen himself, but it was just out of his reach from where he sat. Before he knew it, he was briefly alone before staring back at two figures entering the barn from how he had just moments prior.

“Hello?” said another voice. As the door creaked open, a light flickered on above Trevor’s head. He squinted uncomfortably, raising one hand to his eyes.

“H-hey, I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to… be here…” Trevor stammered. He looked to the two entering the barn. His eyes shifted between both. One stood tall and broad. She wore a baggy pair of overalls and a straw hat over a head of rosy red hair. The other was smaller and younger with wider eyes. A pair of pigtails swished across her shoulders and a bed of freckles brushed across the bridge of her nose.

“Aww, look at what we have here,” the taller of the two said. She looked down at Trevor with an amused grin. “Looks like the boys left us another toy.”

“No, listen, I’m sorry for… breaking in, or whatever…” Trevor stammered nervously. “They did this to me, I didn’t even really want to…”

“That accent though…” the other girl said, giggling slightly. “It’s cute.”

“Yeah, you’re not from ‘round here, are ye, sweetie?”

“No, I’m just visiting,” Trevor explained, trying to remain calm. “They’re family, those two. Distant family. I’m coming in from Staten Island, I’ve never really been here before.”

“Staten Island?” the taller girl asked. “You look mighty light for an ‘island’ boy.” Trevor stared back sourly.

“N-no, Staten Island,” Trevor said. “You know, New York.”

“Ohhhh, city boy,” the smaller girl chimed.

“Aww, and ye didn’t want to visit us, city boy?” the taller girl asked again.

“I… I didn’t know, I… “ Trevor said. He coughed slightly, still struggling to get out of the milking stand. “Listen, just let me go and I’ll never come back.”

“No, no, you came for a visit, and we’d hate to see you go so soon,” said the smaller of the two. “I’m Mallory, by the way. What’s your name, city boy?”

“I… I’m Trevor,” he said.

“Nice t’ meet you, Trevor,” said the other sister. “I’m Savannah. Savannah Mischen. That there’s my sister. And you’re here on our farm.”

“Yeah, I know,” Trevor said, shaking his head. “Listen, I’m sorry. Just get me out of this thing and I’ll never come back. I promise.”

“Oh, I believe you,” said Savannah, “and that’s why we can’t let you leave just yet.”

“Ohh, we gonna do what we done to that other boy?” said Mallory. Savannah smirked.

“If he’s good for it, yeah,” she said. “Don’t that sound like fun?” Mallory giggled and jumped up and down, her pigtails bouncing against her shoulders.

“What, do what?” Trevor asked. “You don’t have to do anything to me. Just let me go. Please.”

“No, no, no, not yet, city boy,” said Savannah. “We got to teach you some respect first, breaking into other people’s barns and whatnot.” Savannah walked around behind Trevor. He tried to follow her movements, but his attention was forced back in front of him just as Mallory bent down in front of the milking stand. She hummed with a wide smile while untying Trevor’s sneakers.

“Wh-what… what are you doing?” Trevor asked. His voice crackled with nerves, sweat beading against the back of his neck.

“Just making the city boy more comfortable,” said Mallory. “These are neat though. We don’t see many shoes like this around.”

“You really don’t need to,” said Trevor, his voice starting to raise. “Seriously, just let me go.” Savannah came up behind Trevor. She bent down right behind his back and snatched one of his wrists with a tight grip.

“Now, now, don’t be so loud now, city boy,” she said. “Don’t wanna wake daddy. He can be pretty mean when he don’t get his sleep.” The course texture of a rope coiled around Trevor’s wrist. He pulled back, struggling against Savannah’s hold over him, but the girl was remarkably strong for how she looked. He pulled violently as the rope was tied onto his wrist. Savannah laughed. She grabbed at his other wrist and pulled it behind him next to the tie.

“Wha-what are you doing?!” Trevor shouted.

“Ohh, city boy’s puttin’ up a fight!” Savannah said with a soft chuckle. “I’ve wrestled bigger than you before, city boy.” Trevor continued to fight back against Savannah tying more rope around his other wrist, but before he knew it, both had been sufficiently knotted. With a few additional ties, Savannah leaned back to examine her work. Both of Trevor’s wrists had been tied behind his back in a hold that mimicked Savannah’s own strength. Trevor’s eyes widened as she circled around in front of him. He struggled and pulled at the knot, trying to twist his hands free, but could find no wiggle room which to exploit.

“H-hey!” Trevor shouted. “Let me go!”

“Hush now,” Mallory said. “Please don’t wake daddy. You don’t want to find out what he’s like to boys who sneak over.”

“I’m trying to leave,” Trevor said. “You’re the ones keeping me here. Please, just let me go!”

“But you did sneak over,” said Savannah as Mallory loosened one shoe from Trevor’s foot. She revealed a clean white cotton sock wiggling in the binding stand. She giggled as she watched Trevor’s foot strain to free itself against the pressure.

“Aww, how cute!” Mallory said. She immediately started working on untying the other shoe.

“And now, you’ll stay here, since you wanted to be here so bad,” Savannah said, her hands placed on her hips.

“N-no, please… don’t take my shoes,” Trevor said. The girls giggled.

“Aww, honey, we don’t want your shoes,” Savannah said. “We just wanna teach you some respect… and maybe have a bit of fun with you while you’re here.”

“F-fun?” Trevor asked.

“Yeah,” said Mallory. The girl lifted Trevor’s other shoe off, setting it down on the hay-covered ground. Both girls gazed down at Trevor’s bound, socked feet. He stared back curiously at them both.

“D-doing what?” Trevor asked nervously. He swallowed. “What are you going to do to me?” The boy struggled against the rope holding his wrists together behind his back. The girls smirked and inched closer, each facing one of Trevor’s bound feet.

“Just something that we can all laugh about,” said Savannah. She reached up to brush a single finger up the length of his foot. Trevor recoiled. His muscles tensed, his face clenched as a sudden, squeaking giggle escapes his lips. The girl’s expressions brightened. They smirked back at the boy’s reaction.

“Uh oh, is city boy ticklish?” Mallory asked.

“Pl-please… don’t do that…” Trevor pleaded.

“Oh no, I think the city boy’s got ticklish little feet,” Savannah added with amusement. She tossed her hair out of her face, a gentle pinkish hue blooming beneath her freckles. She gave Trevor’s sole another swipe of her finger. The boy’s toes curled, bunching his socks slightly. He squealed again, another pipe of laughter coming louder than the last.

“Heehee, I think so too,” said Mallory. She came closer and twiddled the tips of her fingers against Trevor’s sole. The boy fought back the giggles rising from his chest. His feet squirmed against her touch, but could do little to flee from their binds.

“Eeeeehhhheheeheehee! Staahahap!” Trevor laughed reluctantly. He pulled more at the ropes holding his hands behind him. He tugged his legs against the station, unable to slip them free. As the tickles grew into a mischievous constant, Trevor found himself giggling and squirming more freely.

“Haha, aww, city boy’s got ticklish feet,” Savannah reiterated. “Ain’t that adorable.” She added her own hand to Trevor’s other foot, delivering light, casual tickles against his sole. Her and her sister’s nails were cut short, but their experienced fingers proved quite effective against Trevor’s ticklish feet. Their tickles were casual and easy, displaying a lack of concern for how much time they would have to play with him.

“Yep, already he’s lots more ticklish than the last boy,” Mallory said, wearing a wide smile. Both sisters only used one hand each. They scribbled their fingers lightly against Trevor’s warm, socked feet. Their ticklish strokes were feathery light and quickened with enthusiasm. The tickles teased the boy’s senses. They grew more and more predominant at a steady pace, the sensation of being unable to stop the tickles from the devious strangers compounding the overall effect.

“Aaaaahheeeeheheheheheeeeeheee!! Knahahack it off!!” Trevor laughed. He writhed back and forth. He swung his body side to side to try and weasel from the rope or the stand, whichever would come first. The girls tickled as if unconcerned by his efforts.

“Nuh uh, you came here, remember?” Savannah teased. “Now you gotta be ours.”

“Yeah, them’s the rules,” Mallory added. Savannah’s ticklish touch was careful and meticulous. She scribbled in highly concentrated spots, releasing all five clawing fingertips against different sections of Trevor’s foot. Mallory was far more liberal with her technique. She skittered her fingers up and down Trevor’s sole, from his heel to the base of his toes and back again. Trevor knew not which style tickled more, only that his body was quickly being taken over by the sensations. The teen boy squealed with laughter. His feet flailed and curled. He writhed every which way he could in reaction to the tickles filling his body, none of which helped in setting him free from the tickling sisters.

“Gaaaaahhhhahahahaa!! Stahahap!! Nahahat my feeheeheeeet!” Trevor laughed. The boy blushed deeply. The diminutive feeling of being a little boy again flashed over him. It reminded him of the shame he felt from being the target of his sister and her friends growing up. Being picked on, teased, and countless nights of being the focus for many humiliating tickle attacks. Trevor knew exactly how ticklish he was and where he was most sensitive. And so did the Mischen sisters.

“I wonder if all city boys are this ticklish,” Mallory said. She added her other hand to Trevor’s foot. One scribbled up beneath his toes while the other clawed at his heel and arch. She pushed back to keep the boy’s foot flexed and relatively still against its constant flailing.

“Prob’ly,” said Savannah. “They never get hardened from work, from what I hear.” She held Trevor’s foot steady with one hand while the other focused on her concentrated scratching. Being further unable to move his feet only added to the intended effects and the overall sensation of helplessness. Trevor squealed. The tickles flowed up through his body from his feet. As cool as he always tried to make himself seem, both girls found the best way to break him down into a whiney, hapless, ticklish plaything.

“Staaaahahahahahahaap!!” Trevor laughed out loud. “I caaahahahan’t staahahahand it!!!” He shook his head and kept writhing in his ropes. Sweat clung to his hair and clothes. As much as his body stayed moving in the stand, nothing he did freed him from its hold. His feet were perfectly trapped and vulnerable to face their ticklish fate. The girls just laughed. They giggled and teased the boy as they tickled, bonding over his hysteria.

“Awww, whas’a matter?” Mallory asked. “City boy can’t take a little ticklin’ on his feet?” Their fingers scratched harder and faster steadily, leaving Trevor little means of getting used to the tickles.

“I bet his feet are really soft too,” Savannah said. “Wanna check?” Mallory laughed.

“You bet!” the little sister replied. Both girls eagerly peeled off Trevor’s socks. The boy’s eyes widened. Savanna and Mallory stopped tickling for just enough of a break to pull his socks off and leave him with the dread of doing so. The night’s crisp air tingled against his humid, bare feet. The sudden drop in temperature highlighted just how sensitive his feet were. He sat up and shook his head.

“Pl-please, no…” Trevor begged through heavy panting. “Please, not my bare feet. Please, I can’t take it.” The girls admired the sight of his blushing bare soles. They were nearly clean, looking like they had never seen so much as a scratch or a spec of dirt. Coupled with the boy’s pathetic pleading, both appeared to find the display quite endearing.

“Aww, they’re so cute,” Mallory said.

“All clean and soft lookin’,” Savannah remarked. “Not a day’s worth of work on these feet. Tsk, tsk.” Trevor continued to beg.

“Don’t tickle my bare feet, please!” Trevor said loudly. “Please, I’ll do anything!”

“Oooh, anything, huh?” Mallory asked. “What should we make him do?”

“Hmm, well, city boy’s gotta put in some work to rough these feet up,” Savannah said. “Maybe we have him shovel out the pig pen after we punish these adorable little tootsies for skippin’ onto our farm.” Mallory giggled. Trevor kept shaking his head and begging, but the girl’s pressed forth anyway. They raised both of their hands again, this time to Trevor’s near pristine, blushing soles. In an act of bonding, both sisters brought their fingertips up to Trevor’s bare soles. The initial impact sent a ticklish shock through the boy’s body. He jolted, pulling at the stand as well as the ropes behind his back the moment the touch flushed tickles all throughout his senses.

“Gaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhaaahahahahaaa!!” Trevor cried out. The feeling of their tickles on his bare skin came as far more personal and intimate. The sisters knew better just how ticklish the boy was and they were not prepared to let that go.

“Oh wow, city boy really does have ticklish feet!” Savannah said with a hearty laugh. Her fingers danced with a more wild abandon than before. Each little flick tasted more of Trevor’s sensitive foot, lapping at the delicate nerves that screamed with tickles. A smile stretched across her face, as did her sister’s.

“Oh yeah, he’s much more fun than the last boy,” Mallory said. “I think I wanna keep this one here longer.” She scratched at Trevor’s delicate sole recklessly. She was efficient at keeping up with the flailing and the curling of his toes, none of which seemed to stave off the tickles that wrecked his composure. Trevor nearly doubled over. His face glowed a brighter shade of red. Tears formed in his eyes as his hair sweatily clung to his neck and cheeks.

“Naaaaahahhahahahahahaha!!! Stahahahahp!! Pleehehehahahsssee!!!” Trevor shouted. He continued to pull at his binds, but most of his reactionary impulses were commanded by the tickles flooding his mind. The gentle scratching against his soles had turned Trevor into a ragdoll, a toy with which the sisters were determined to play. Both scratched faster and faster against his soft, tender soles. Their fingering strokes slipped effortlessly across Trevor’s delicate feet. They each skittered their fingers up and down the warm, plush surfaces. Trevor rocked back and forth as he laughed. He twisted fruitlessly about, trapped within the makeshift design. His face darkened red, sweat dripping down his skin. His feet continued to flail as much as they could, but never seemed to move fast or far enough to escape the tickles.

“Ohhh, he’s a real wiggler, this one,” Mallory said. She drove her scribbling fingers deep into the boy’s toes. The humid slickness beneath his delicate pads made for an easy target to get in many tickles in all the same spot. The girl continued to skitter her fingers up and down his arch, but dancing her shallow neals beneath his toes made the boy jump and yelp.

“GAAAAHHHHhhahahahahahaaaa!!! Naahahahahat there!!!!” Trevor cried out. Tears trickled down his cheeks. His arms grew tired of pulling at the rope holding them so tightly. His chest ached from the constant surges of laughter pouring from him. The girls merely giggles along as they pushed his ticklish senses farther and farther than they ever had been before.

“He really is a cutie, there here city boy,” said Savannah with a playful chuckle. “Love that adorable laugh.” Her technique was still to hold his foot steady while unleashing highly concentrated bursts of tickles all over his foot, exploring every inch of the delicate sole. She scribbled his nails against each of his toes, making sure to savor the changes in his laughter as she moved down the row.

“Staaaaahhhahahahahp!! Oh gaaahahahahahahahaad!!!” Trevor squealed. His laughter broke through his voice. He bounced and pulled to the impulsive reactions to the tickles raging through him. He knew well how ticklish his feet had always been, but never before had they been tickled to that extent. His sandy brown hair darkened with sweat. Tears still trickled down his burning cheeks. He laughed along with the sisters playing out his very ticklish torment.

“So cute,” Savannah commented again. “Here, you take both feet. I wanna try somethin’.”

“Aight!” Mallory said. Savannah hopped up as Mallory shifted over in the middle of both Trevor’s blushing soles. She raised a hand to each and made up for the lack of fingers with quicker, more clawing scribbles. Savannah hurried up to the platform upon which Trevor sat. She bent down behind him, coming in close. Trevor giggled through the constant tickling against his feet. Savannah admired how the boy laughed and moved so whimsically. She slid up right behind him. She placed her hands on Trevor’s sides and leaned in toward his ear.

“Coochie coochie coo, city boy,” Savannah whispered. She gave Trevor’s cheek a small, pecking kiss before her hands began to violently squeeze at his sides.

“AAAAAAHHHHHAHAHAHHAAHHAHHAhahahahahaaaa!!! Ohhhh gaaahahahahahahahahahahahahaa!!!!” Trevor screamed. His shrieking laughter seeped out of the barn and into the night. The kneading tickles against his sides bloomed out to gnaw at his entire upper half. Each rapid squeeze made him yelp and jump. He twisted and pulled more and more, trying his best to fight back the ticklish assault. The girls continued to laugh. Savannah giggled right into the boy’s ear as she kept reducing him with more and more teasing phrases.

“Heehee, tickle, tickle, tickle…” Savannah chanted. Trevor twisted side to side. The boy fought weakly against the tickles waged against him. He shifted and squirmed, but mostly fell under the total control of the hysteria gushing through his senses. The girls laughed along with him, treating the boy as little more than a toy with which to play, no matter what kind of distraught it plagued him.

“Heehee, get ‘em, sis!” Mallory cheered. She continued violently scribbling down at Trevor’s soles. His feet kept wiggling, but did so through a weary exhaustion that slowed him down. His body gradually gave more and more of itself over to the acceptance of his fate, outside of the involuntary responses that ruled over his reactive motions. Mallory giggled along. Her freckled cheeks were lifted in high, rosy mounds, bookending a wide smile. Her fingers scratched at Trevor’s ticklish soles, leaving no spot unexploited for its overwhelming sensitivity.

“Gaaaaaaahhhhahhahahahahahahaaaa!!! Leeehehehet me gaaaaahhahahahahahahaaaa!!!” Trevor shouted. He squirmed against Savannah, but Savannah’s clawing tickling at his sides kept him further pinned in place. She squeezed at the spots with vicious disregard to his ticklish state. She worked up to his ribs and back down again, still whispering ticklish phrases in his ears.

“Uh oh, is the ticklish little city boy gonna stay here with us now ‘n be our new tickle toy?” Savannah said. She chuckled, her hands never leaving Trevor’s body. Trevor shook his head but could only laugh, his face turning an even darker shade of red. “Aww, no? Looks like ye don’t have much say now, does it? Coochie coochie coo!” Her fingers spread wide and clawed faster and faster. They squeezed and scribbled across the boy’s midsection, rising as high as to his armpits to dip within and deliver even more surprise tickles. Trevor shrieked. He bounced and struggled in place, unable to do much against the devious sisters playing with their new tickle toy.

“AAAAHHHHAHHAHHAHahahahahaaaa!!! Staaaahahahahahaha!! Pleehehehhahahahssee!!!” Trevor cried. More tears poured down his face. He swung and twisted and did everything he could to at least block out the tickles, but the tickles kept coming harder and faster than before, proving the sensation impossible to ignore. The girls flooded his senses with minute after minute of constant tickling. Their touch stayed on him consistently, never letting Trevor recover from the tickling for much more than a moment with which to reassume a comfortable position. Trevor stayed bound to the milking station, unable to do much more than squirm and laugh.

The girls paused and pulsed back suddenly when the door to the barn groaned open. They turned their attention toward it while Trevor sat slumped over, heaving and gasping to catch his breath. Sweat dripped from the tips of his hair. He trembled and shook, merely trying to assume a state of normalcy from such a feverish mania. The girls’ eyes widened. They drew back, assuming a more innocent demeanor.

“Wha’ th’ heck’s goin‘ on?” fussed an older man. He wore a dirt-stained pair of overalls, long johns, and boots. Wrinkles covered his face, most branching from the corners of his squinting eyes. He stepped forward and placed his hands on his hips.

“D-daddy,” Mallory said nervously. Savannah stood up straight. She cupped her hands in front of her body and stared down at the ground.

“S-sorry to wake you, d-daddy,” Savannah said. Trevor looked back. A chill brushed across his sweat-drenched skin from the cold air of the early morning, still as black as the night that he had last seen. Old Man Barry smacked his lips a little before spitting a black wad of chew out into the hay.

“‘Nother one of them boys breakin’ in ‘gin?” the man asked. The girls nodded.

“We were j-just playin’, daddy,” Mallory said. “We didn’t mean t’ wake you up.” A blank stare rested across the man’s face. He spit out another wad and shot his girls a grin with unkempt gums and a few teeth missing.

“When will them boys learn?” he asked quietly.

“This here’s a city boy, comin’ from Old Merle’s boys,” Savannah said.

“City boy, eh?” Barry asked. He approached the stand and looked over Trevor. Trevor heaved and slumped over. He looked up to the man and tried to speak.

“Pl… please… l-let me go… th-they’re crazy…” Trevor stammered. Barry assessed Trevor like a piece of livestock.

“Eh, he city boy, a’ight,” Barry said. “He soft.”

“And super duper ticklish too,” Mallor said. Savannah smiled and sent her sister a hushing glance.

“Yeah, well,” Barry started before walking away. “That’s his fault for breakin’ onto my farm. Yall can keep ‘em like th’ last one, but I don’t want ‘em causin’ no trouble, ye hear?” The girls both hopped jubilantly, clapping their hands together.

“Oh yes, daddy! Thank you, daddy!” Mallory cheered.

“‘Course,” said Old Man Barry. “How ‘bout you set him up with the goats like y’un did with th’ last boy? Plenty funny ‘n put ‘em to some good work while yall get going pickin’ eggs.” Mallory and Savannah's expressions illuminated. They wore cheeky grins that pushed into freckled dimples.

“Oh, yeah!” Mallory said.

“Mighty fine idea there, daddy,” said Savannah. She shot Trevor a sneaky smirk before skipping out of the barn. She was followed by Mallory and Barry. Alone in the barn, Trevor, whimpered. He continued to strain while pulling against his binds, but could do even less in his fatigue. The sisters came back several minutes later. Mallory carried in two metal buckets full of a thick, gritty substance while Savannah came in behind her, leading two goats by a leash.

“Girdy, Gigi, meet the city boy!” Mallory announced. Trevor sat up. His eyes widened as the goats drew nearer to his bound, bare soles.

“Wha- n-no, no, wait!” Trevor said, his face drawing pale. The girls giggled at his reaction, bringing the goats up to the milking stand.

“Now, I know you girls normally eat out back with the others, but today’s going to be another special treat,” said Savannah. Mallory sat down the buckets. She flicked a pigtail out of her face and turned to Trevor.

“Last time, we had Gregory and Geddy with the boy for, like, three hours,” Mallory said. “They were so full by the end of it and the boy darn near passed out. It was so funny” Figured we’d let some of the girlies have a turn.” Savannah chuckled. She tied each of the goats to the milking stand, one in front of each of Trevor’s soles. Malloy plucked some twine out from her back pocket. She reached over and tied a strand around each of Trevor’s big toes.

“N-no, please… a-anything… anything but that…” Trevor begged.

“Awww, hush now,” Savannah said. “You oughta toughen up, city boy. We might end up keeping you here a while.” Mallory pulled at each strand of twine. She stretched back Trevor’s feet, keeping his blushing soles perfectly pointed outward. She tied the ends to the stand as Savannah brought over one of the pails. The goats were already trying to get at the mixture within, but Savannah kept them away and scooped out some in her hand.

“Heehee, this is going to be so much fun!” Mallory said.

“We’ll let the girlies have a go before we come back later and have some more fun with our new city boy,” said Savannah. She laughed some more as she slathered the mixture across Trevor’s soles. A sweet, salty aroma caught the attention of the goats, still trying to get at the substance. Savannah loosely covered Trevor’s feet in the feed, leaving no spot without several lasting coatings.

“No, please, get it off!” Trevor shouted. “Please, I can’t take any more!”

“Sure you can, city boy,” said Mallory. “We gots lots more critters to feed too. I’m sure you’ll get mighty familiar with ‘em while you’re here.” Savannah finished painting the mixture across both of Trevor’s bound, taut feet. Immediately upon pulling away, taking the pail with her, the goats latched themselves onto Trevor’s feet, hungrily lapping at the feed.

“NAAAAAAAHHHHHHHAHHAHAHAHHAHAA!!!! OHHHH GAAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!” Trevor shouted. Every preconceived notion of what ticklish torment could be came crashing down on top of him. The goats’ tongues were raspy and scraped across the surface of his delicate soles. Each swipe came fast and bursting with tickles that ravished his senses. Trevor’s body jolted. He bounced and pulled at the binds. He struggled once again at the rope holding his wrist. His feet tried desperately to move out of the way of the goats, but the twine kept his feet perfectly stationary from which to feed the goats. The beasts licked hungrily and unsympathetic to the boy’s shrieking cries of ticklish hysteria.

“Haha, look at ‘em!” Mallory said. The girls stood back and watched the goats lick and Trevor squirm uselessly against the stand.

“I know, cute, ain’t he?” Savannah asked. They watched for several minutes. At no point did the goats slow down or show any sign of mercy. They simply licked the yummy treat off of Trevor’s helpless, sensitive soles.

“STAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! MAAHAHAHAHHAAAAKE THEM STAAHAHAHAHHAAP!!!” Trevor cried. Savannah left the pails just out of reach from the goats and their tethers to the stand. Both girls came up next to Trevor. They brushed at his hair and stroked his chin.

“We gotta go help daddy now, city boy,” said Savannah. “You be good to our girlies here now.”

“We’ll be back in an hour or two to play some more,” Mallory added. Both girls snickered. They each leaned in to plant a little kiss against Trevor’s cheeks as the boy’s laughter echoed through the barn. They giggled. The girls hopped down and started toward the door to the barn. They looked back as Trevor’s laughter continued with little sign of diminishing. The goats licked on at the boy’s bound feet and the resulting tickles coursed through his body, reducing him more and more to pitiful fits of belting laughter. Mallory and Savannah smiled at their newest toy and walked out, leaving Trevor alone to help feed the goats.

“NAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA!!! WAAAITAAAAHHAHAHAHAA!!!” Trevor shrieked with ticklish laughter. Tears coursed down his blushing cheeks, his body quickly growing weary from pulling so fruitlessly at the makeshift binds. The door to the barn closed behind the girls. Trevor could only laugh, the music of which serenaded the girls’ morning chores.

Trevor thought he knew the meaning of ‘nothing to do’. The phrase was a popular hyperbole for general boredom, often getting thrown around lazy, rainy days or long car rides with barren understanding. However, upon visiting Uncle Merle’s and Aunt Girdy’s farm, a more transparent meaning to the phrase began to take shape, as he truly felt that there was nothing to be done… but laugh.