Featherscape
patreon
Shrieking Manor Chapter 13
🕑 Added 2022-10-24 06:01:01 +0000 UTCWhen Rebecca woke, she could see nothing around her. The room was just as black as she had left it. Her only clue that she was actually awake was the uncomfortable position in which she found her place in Dylan’s body. He was standing and forced to do so by an archaic contraption keeping him as such. Dylan opened his eyes to nothing but darkness behind a thick blindfold. He tried to move his head, but even that was stuck in place. A caged box held his head facing forward. He tried to scream, but a thick end of a tube had been thrust and locked into his mouth via a guard. He drooled around the sides of it, his voice running raspy as he growled and grumbled angrily through the hollow, plastic chamber.
“Mmmmpppggghhhh!?” Dylan's body dripped with sweat. The more he moved, the more he discovered just how little he could. His arms were splayed out and thrust upwards in a ‘V’ formation, locked in place by thick metal cuffs. He pulled at them, able to move them just slightly before they were jerked right back into place. His muscles trembled at the strain. Dylan could still twist his hips at least, but his feet were also locked in their own metal boot-like compartments, keeping his legs spread and firmly in place. At the bottom of each, his toes could rest against a supportive plate while his arches faced a hollow opening, keeping the boy from being able to take any protective action for them.
Dylan stood this way for several minutes, sweat trickling down his body more and more as the time passed. In being unable to see, the room seemed deliberately heated, leaving his muscles fatigued and skin moist. From what he could feel, Dylan only had on a pair of the white pants the facility assigned him and nothing else. He shook in his binds. The cage holding his head rattled as he jerked against it. Chains creaked every time he pulled at his arms, seemingly being held up by heavy weights. His bare chest rose and fell faster and faster. He breathed deeply through the tube, thankfully able to suck down air as he needed it. Several beads of sweat trickled down his body that made the boy twitch slightly, even gasping a little against his gag. He only started fussing again when he heard the door to the room finally open an indeterminable amount of time later.
“Dylan Bellamy,” Mommy’s soothing voice read aloud. Dylan rattled more against his bindings, grumbling furiously through the tube in his mouth. The door closed and locked behind the woman walking in. “Aww, sweetie, you can yell and cuss all you want in here. No one is going to understand you. No one else is going to even hear you. Though I’d advise such a rageful boy such as you to perhaps rethink how he immediately addresses his circumstances. You are in here for your anger issues after all. If you want to get better, then maybe you should start by how you talk.” The words were lost on Dylan’s reactions. He yelled and pulled and growled deeply into the tube feeding behind him. Mommy could almost make out certain unfavorable words, though none swayed her the way Dylan wanted.
“But we’re not here to get you better,” Mommy said with a little laugh. “Oh no. You’re just another part of my problems here. You not getting better is keeping my family away from me. But we’ve tried their methods, haven’t we? Perhaps… boys like you are unfixable. Perhaps boys like you just need to be punished…”
A light skittering of nails against Dylan’s stomach sent the boy into a burst of twitches. His body pulsed before the woman, stretched out and glistening and completely helpless to her whims. Dylan fought back against the urge to laugh. He closed his throat and strained, his body jerking against the teasing tickles that danced around his tight, muscular stomach. His arms pulled at the chains. His hips twisted uselessly. It was only at the surprise, ticklish scribbling was the weight of Dylan’s predicament truly apparent.
“Turns out, my bastard husband was onto something,” Mommy said close to Dylan’s caged head. Five nails gave gentle, feathery brushes up and down his abdomen. “Tickling is quite the effective method… to correct, punish, and have fun.” Mommy’s tickling was passive, just barely abrasive against Dylan’s ticklish body. Still, Dylan groaned into the tube to deny his voice of the laughter that it craved. His body shifted in an endless state of unrest. His hair draped in wet clumps across his face. Mommy giggled. She watched the boy’s clenching reactions closely. Dylan could only feel her presence, wholly without sight’s mercy of knowing the world around him.
“I’m sure you hate me right now, Dylan,” Mommy said solemnly. Her nails tapped along the ridges of his abs, leaving ticklish scrapes in their wake. “I understand. Truly, I do. I hate too. The doctor. The nurses. All of you. But I’ve found there’s joy to be found in all that hate as well. I’ve found mine here, doing this. Maybe you will too.” Her touch trailed between the grooves of his muscles, hitting a hard yelp and jerk when she slipped a nail briefly into his belly button.
“Mmmmppphhhhgghhh!” Dylan moaned. He tried to speak, but refrained to keep from letting the giggles slip from his throat.
“Oh, I almost forgot…” Mommy said. She stopped tickling for a moment, pulling back to let Dylan breathe. When she spoke up again, her voice echoed clearly right outside of Dylan’s ears. Mommy adjusted a brass bell closer to her mouth in front of him. She spoke into it, her words carrying to inside the cage, positioned to amplify noise right at the sides of his head. “Can you hear me better now? Not that you couldn’t before, but I don’t want what I have to say to be lost on you once the fun really starts.” Mommy spoke softly, but it was more than loud enough to carry to Dylan, as if resonating within his own head. Dylan grumbled and winced. He braced himself for another sudden burst of tickles, unable to anticipate when they would start up again.
“Now then,” Mommy said, her voice whispering right into Dylan’s ear. “Let’s see…” Her nails fell upon the boy’s body once again. Five tapped and teased around his stomach, leaving Dylan squirming and groaning into the tube. The boy danced in place, swiveling his hips and fighting back laughter. “No need to fight it, darling. I have your file. I know all about where you’re ticklish. No sense depriving us both of what we want.” Mommy continued the light, scribbling tickling of five nails all over his stomach. They teased every little inch with maddening skitters. They played with each divot of muscle, every little plush mound, and all of the shallow valleys in between.
“Mmmmmmmhhhhggghheheehee!” Dylan started to give in. His body pulled against the oddly specific binds holding him in place. His arms yanked against the chains, lifting the weights at the other ends, before tiring and stretching them back out.
“I know how much you like to exercise, little Dylan,” Mommy whispered. “I thought that I’d rig up some weights for you to lift while you’re down here. If you get them all the way up, maybe I’ll let you go. Shouldn’t be hard for such a strong young man like yourself.” Her nails danced over to one of Dylan’s sides. They toyed with the skin, delicately brushing against it for far more irritating than excruciating tickles. They scribbled up and down like little bugs playfully racing up and down a meal.
“Mmmmmppphhhgggnnnnheheeheheheheeeee!” Dylan started to release small bursts of giggles. He continued to strain, to force them back, but slowly his efforts began to falter. His hips twisted and pulled away as much as they could, but the rest of his bindings down below kept him firmly standing in one place. Mommy laughed as she watched him wiggle.
“Awww hehe, you like the little setup I have here?” Mommy said into Dylan’s ears. Her nails fluttered all over one side before switching to the other. Dylan jerked in the opposite direction. More and more giggles slipped through his efforts to restrain them. “All for you, dear. It’s quite impressive, really. Wish you could see it. I bet you would love to step away right about now. You know, there’s something very special about what’s keeping your feet on the ground right now. Here, let me show you.” The tickling of his side stopped. Dylan heaved a relieved sigh, panting from just a few minutes of teasing. Sweat trickled down his chest and back. In the dark of his blindfold, Dylan waited. He whimpered and grumbled, wondering if the night was all just an especially vivid nightmare.
When the tickling started up again, it came where Dylan had not expected. Dylan jolted into another fit of twitching and fighting back giggles. At the bottom of the boot-like devices holding his feet in place, the devilish brush of a feather traced across his arches. As if beneath the floor itself, another feather slowly grazed both of his bare soles. Followed by another. And another. Each came within seconds of each other at a mechanical pace. Each little drag sent a ticklish shock up through Dylan’s body.
“Mmmmppphheheheheheeeheee!” Dylan laughed into his tube. He twitched in place, pulling at his arms as much as he tried to jerk back his legs. The boots were locked to the floor, directly above an opening where a pair of wheels with feathers turned metronomically against his bare soles. Mommy stood back and watched the boy deal with the light, feathery tickles against his feet.
“You like that, dear?” Mommy asked. “Surprising that such a rageful young man can be reduced with just a few feathers against his feet. Really all it is for me is just a flip of a switch. I told you the setup here is impressive, didn’t I?” Dylan could only twitch and laugh in place, his voice echoing through the tube feeding behind him. The wheels below him rotated at a casual pace, each dragging about six feathers endlessly across his trembling, immobilized soles. Mommy let the wheels run. Their effect on the boy had him squirming in place as far as he could. She stood back watching Dylan dance and sing for her, the feathers stroking his soles belittling the boy to a more infantile composure.
After a while, Mommy flipped the switch for the wheels off. Dylan could still feel the feather effects tingling his soles, knowing full well that his feet could fall victim to them again at any moment. He huffed through the tube, sweat still dripping down his body. Mommy approached the boy closely once more. She walked behind him, her heels clicking against the hard floor beneath them. A single nail rose to touch the underside of Dylan’s arm. The boy twitched again, pulling away from that direction.
“Aww, what’s the matter?” Mommy asked. “These pits don’t want to play with me?” She giggled, her voice whispering just behind his head. Her nail traded downward, slowly inching across Dylan’s strained muscle. It snaked teasingly toward his armpit. Dylan’s breathing picked up. He whimpered and clenched, bracing himself for the worst. Mommy’s nail paused just outside of the sensitive region. Her stare lingered on Dylan’s anxious state. She watched a bead of sweat fall down the nape of his neck. Seconds ticked by before Mommy could no longer withhold her indulgence. She lightly scraped the nail down into the boy’s exposed armpit. Dylan whimpered louder before succumbing his voice to short bursts of laughter.
“Mmmpphhheheeheee! Mmmhhhhheeeehehehehee!” Dylan giggled. His body jerked against the armpit tickles, her hands clenching as his arms pulled against the weights holding them apart. Mommy smiled. She delighted only one nail against Dylan’s sensitive armpit, scribbling and scratching innocently.
“Heehee, tickle, tickle, tickle…” Mommy teased. Her nail scratched around, scraping gently all over with short contractions. “Aww, big boy can’t handle some tickles by a sweet old lady. I’m barely touching you.” She chuckled at her antics, exploring all over Dylan’s plush, exposed pit with the lightest of tickles she could manage. Even still, Mommy had found the spot Dylan could handle being tickled the least, and her delicate tickles still left him giggling wildly and straining his body to be free of them.
Mommy only toyed with the one pit before she pulled away again. Dylan heaved hard breaths through the tube, tears starting to seep into the cloth around his eyes. His body burned with the dense humidity surrounding him. Mommy walked away from the boy and dabbed her forehead with a small white handkerchief. She brought it up to him before wiping down his neck, chest, and upper back.
“There, there, I know it’s warm in here,” Mommy said. “But it’s all for the best. Have to keep that skin slick and sensitive.” Mommy chuckled. She wiped away stray beads of sweat before putting away the handkerchief. “But now it’s time to have some fun.” Mommy’s heels clicked in a stride that circled around Dylan. She came up behind him and picked up the tube connected to his mouth. She plugged it into an oxygen tank behind him. Mommy twisted the knob and released a flood of the gas into the tube and subsequently Dylan’s mouth. Dylan sucked it down unknowingly. He struggled for air through the tube and got it anyway he could. As the oxygen hit his system, Dylan felt his fatigue starting to fade. His body and mind steadily became more alert the more Dylan breathed in. Mommy let the tank run naturally, coming back around to the front of Dylan. She spoke into the brass bell feeding toward his ears.
“Isn’t that nice, dear?” Mommy asked. “Just breathe. This will help keep you awake for me. Don’t need you passing out too early now.” Dylan drank in the gas, relieving his mind and a small portion of his aches. He tried to relax. His head rested as comfortably as it could within the cage that held it facing forward. Mommy ran her hand across a single bar and giggled, as if stroking his cheek.
“Mmmpphhh…. Mmmmpphhh?” Dylan groaned as he sucked in the oxygen. His voice, even muffled, was soaked in desperation and confusion. His chest pounded as his heart raced fearfully.
“There’s no one else here but us, dear,” Mommy said. “No need to feel shame. No need to feel anything beyond what you’re supposed to. Just let it out.” Mommy flipped the switch to get the feathers at Dylan’s soles spinning again. Instantly, the boy reacted in uncomfortable twitches and hollowed giggles. His feet could barely flinch where they remained housed in metal plates. Only his arches were left exposed where they were subjected to the feathers’ touch. Dylan tried to flex his toes, to move in any way that would protect his soles from the feathers' mechanical swiping, but the boots locked onto his feet left no room whatsoever to squirm away.
“Mmmmppphhhggghheheheheheheheeeeee!” Dylan laughed, starting to give into his ticklish plight. Mommy stood by the door where the switch was one of several in a row. By the one running the wheels was the one keeping the lights on, and another keeping the room warm. Other switches rested in their idle and off positions.
“Just give into the giggles, dear,” Mommy said. “It’s so much more fun to watch.” Dylan seemed to fight back the laughter out of sprite. His arms and legs trembled. He grumbled to mask what laughter did manage to slip out. The feathers continued to brush against the boy’s slick, humid soles one right after the other. Mommy let out a small chuckle. “Then again, I do like it when they put up a fight.” Mommy flipped another switch. The feather wheels began to rotate faster against Dylan’s feet. The effect became instantly apparent at Dylan’s more frantic giggling and twitching in his binds. More feathers were swiping across his soles per minute, locked into a merciless rhythm.
“Mmmmppeeeeehheheheheheheheheeeeee!” Dylan let more giggles slip through his forcibly stoic composure. He continued to fight against them as best as he could, but knowing how long the feathery brushes could last, his will to keep up the front was quickly crumbling. Mommy laughed at his change in reactions. She walked closer, up to the bell right in front of the boy. She stood where she could both reach him and talk into the brass chamber feeding into her earshot. He could have still heard her, but Mommy relished the added effect of speaking right into the boy’s ear.
“Heehee, someone’s feetsies sure are sensitive,” Mommy said. She reached out and fluttered a single hand’s worth of nails against his stomach again. Dylan gasped and jerked, still giggling at the perpetual tickles against his soles. “I could just keep the feathers going and leave the room. Hehe, you wouldn’t even know. Just leave you here giggling and writhing at having your feet feathered endlessly. I may one night… but no. No, I need to be here. I need to see you take your punishment.”
Mommy’s other hand caressed the outside of the cage holding Dylan’s head. It lowered slowly down his neck and chest. When it joined the other at Dylan’s stomach, all ten nails launched into a flurry of tickles against the slick, sensitive area. Dylan’s composure broke. Any evidence of a tough, cynical exterior shattered away, revealing only a ticklish, squealing boy. Dylan shrieked into the tube. A flurry of giggling laughter poured from his throat, completely surrendering to the effects of the tickles racing through him.
“Mmmmmmppphheheheheheheheheheeeheeheheeheeee!!” Dylan bellowed. His chest and stomach quivered with the laughter he endured. It danced beneath Mommy’s devious fingers. Her nails flew into an onslaught of scribbling against the toned surface of his abdominals. Both hands explored all over, her fingers scraping rapidly in singular spots before moving to the next. Dylan’s nerves exploded through the area. Tickles bloomed out from every single little touch.
“Heehee, that’s it, dear,” Mommy spoke into the bell. “Let it all out for Mommy.” The woman worked up a sweat of her own, scribbling her nails all over Dylan’s midsection. She traced tickles up and down the boy’s stomach. She circled around the plush skin, quivering and trembling to the bounciness of his laughter. Mommy giggled, her eyes glimmering as she drank in the elements of Dylan’s ticklish suffering.
“Mggghhhhmmhhheeeeheeheheheheeheeheeeheeheeeee!!” Dylan could only laugh. Occasionally his arms would lift the weight gently from their rests, only to have them come crashing down again in defeat. Mommy’s nails skittered around, carefully picking at the tender, ticklish nerves. She kneaded into Dylan’s belly before raining more light, feathery tickles across the area. Mommy snickered playfully when dipping one scribbling nail into Dylan’s navel. It scratched away at the inner walls of the boy’s belly button. Dylan screamed into the tube, his voice quickly filling the room in echoing laughter. Every little scrape of her nail inside his navel burst like hundreds of tickles flooding his body throughout. The highly sensitive area yielded pure, hysterical desperation in Dylan’s expressions. He screamed into his laughter, tears bleeding into the blindfold keeping him in the dark to it all.
“Ohhh heehee, not so tough now, are you,” Mommy taunted into his ears. “Coochie coochie coo…” Her voice was captivating, yet sinister; the alluring shimmer on the side of a blade. Her nail twisted and dug into his shallow belly button. It scratched away inward, attacking every single ticklish nerve pressed against the surface over and over again. Her other hand riddled the rest of his stomach with rapid tickles, completely feeding off of Dylan’s pitiful laughter. She scribbled faster and faster over the spots. The feathers at his feet continued to brush their own delicate tickle spots. Dylan screamed with laughter. He cried and clenched and thrashed as best as he could, fighting back the hopelessness of his situation. Mommy delighted in it all. She breathed deep the musk baking the room in more heat, the perspiration of Dylan’s ticklish torment.
Mommy’s nails fell from Dylan’s belly. This was all Dylan knew of the moment through his blindness. The wheels stroking feathers against his feet continued to turn, reducing his screaming laughter to faint, constant giggles. Even through the hollow echo of the tube, his unrestrained laughter was boyish with an almost whimsical quality. His body twitched to the power of the feathers brushing endlessly against his soles. Mommy watched. She stood back and watched with a patient smile for as long as she could withhold her torturous regime.
“Poor, poor boy,” Mommy said, her voice weak yet clear in Dylan’s ear. “So ticklish and nowhere to go. Pity. Maybe it wasn’t your fault that you were brought here specifically… but here you are… and you must be punished…” Mommy came closer. She raised both hands to Dylan’s chest. It shimmered with a fine layer of sweat. All ten nails touched against the boy’s breasts before inching downward. Dylan gasped through his giggles. His voice broke into soft whimpers. Mommy smirked as she let her nails drift off to the sides. She reached Dylan’s ribs, letting her fingers trace over the shallow ridges rising and falling.
“Mmmmpphheeheheeeehehhggggghhhhhhhnnn!!” Dylan clenched through his giggles as the nails traced across his ribs. One after another, Mommy’s nails picked and pinched at each. She played Dylan like a ticklish instrument, a percussive vehicle of laughter. She skittered up and down both sets of ribs, lightly tracing her nails over top of each little rivet and digging down into the dips between them. Mommy giggled in his face. She brushed her fingertips all over the wavey, sensitive racks, stretched and vulnerable for her to play with.
“Tickle, tickle, tickle…” Mommy’s voice cooed. Her nails danced across his skin. Every little swipe and pinch shot a flurry of tickles all through the boy’s body. Her fingers worked effortlessly as ten devious and experienced tickle tools coupled with Dylan’s slick frame. Dylan jerked in place. He howled with laughter into the tube feeding him oxygen. His mind was alive and awake to experience every little tick.
“Mmmmppppgggghheheheheheeeeeheheeeheeheeeeeeheheheheheee!!!” Dylan laughed more and more desperately. His eyes watered and rolled behind his blindfold. His arms pulled again and again at the chains being dragged down by the weights. Through it all, the feather wheels beneath his soles continued to turn, brushing each foot with dragging tickles once per every other second. Mommy watched Dylan’s body writhe in its binds. She observed his chest heave and stomach quiver with rapid, unending laughter. One by one she toyed with his ribs. She scribbled her nails all over one before moving down to the next, letting her nails skitter devilishly side to side.
“Awww, such a sensitive young man,” Mommy teased. “Let’s see if we can really get you laughing.” Mommy snickered. As she finished pinching the bottom rib on each side of his torso, she pulled away. Mommy walked back over to the wall and flipped another idle switch, leaving only one still left off. The feather wheels picked up faster, the hum of the motor vibrating up through the boots themselves. Their presence became more apparent in Dylan’s mind as his feet were subjected to more feathers brushing against his sole, one per second. His laughter picked up again. His voice broke into more pitiful cries, the feathers against his feet alone leaving the boy squirming in ticklish agony.
“Mmmppphhgghghghhhhhheheheheheheeeeee!!” Dylan’s voice echoed. Mommy watched and allowed the feathers to work the boy further into a quivering ticklish mound of nerves before approaching him again. She spoke clearly into the bell.
“That’s it, ticklish boy, let it all out,” Mommy said, coming closer. “You and I both know that we’re not nearly done here.” Her voice was jovial and calm, despite secreting the misery plaguing Dylan’s mind. Coming back within arm’s reach, Mommy looked over Dylan’s ever-shifting frame. His midsection danced restlessly through his forced laughter. His arms clenched and fought against the weights holding them up. Mommy absorbed all of it. She smiled and reached to the boy’s sides. “Especially when I haven’t even gotten to the good spots.”
Her nails tapped delicately against Dylan’s sides. Once again, the slightest gesture had the boy squirming in place, more so than his prior state of unrest. Dylan gasped through his laughter, whimpering pitifully as Mommy’s nails grazed down his sides. Her fingers spread across both. Out and in, gauging Dylan’s reactions to toy with the boy and find his most sensitive spots. She drew out the moment, her eyes studying every little twitch, giggle, and trickle of hope leaving his body. Mommy grinned. Her fingers spread across both sides, wide talons ready to strike. When Mommy had tasted enough anticipation, she clawed both hands onto Dylan’s sides in a rapid, squeezing motion. Dylan screamed into the tube until his broken voice subsided to unstable laughter.
“MMMPPPHHHEHEEEEEHHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAHHEEHE!!!” Dylan shrieked. His body continued to thrash about as much as it could. His chest heaved and stomach quivered painfully, unable to keep up with the boy’s hyper ticklish nerves. His laughter filled the room. He sucked down more and more of the gas keeping him awake, his arms tiring from constantly pulling at the weights.
“Silly boy,” Mommy said with a sly chuckle. “You keep moving around as if you haven’t realized that there’s no escape. Even if the doctor cures you, you’ll still be here with me… taking your punishment.” She squeezed on Dylan’s sides violently. Each pulse sent tremors of tickles all through the boy’s body. He shrieked with ticklish laughter, jumping and dancing in place at the clawing tickles. Mommy cackled in his face. She kneaded her fingers into the soft, delicate sides. She fed off of the desperation in Dylan’s laughter, encouraged to tickle faster and harder with each screaming fit.
“MMMMPPPHHGGGHGHHHHHHHEHEHEHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAAA!!!” Dylan was reduced to just a vessel of laughter. Sweat poured down his body. His arms quaked and tired of pulling instinctively against the weights. The feathers at his feet turned with a devilish persistence, showing no mercy for the tickles Dylan’s upper half was suffering. Every inch of Dylan’s body screamed with slickness and sensitivity. His mind could only comprehend the torturous present. His perception was limited only to the tickling at hand, painting images in his mind of such ticklish torment continuing forever.
“Don’t be such a baby boy about it,” Mommy said, still squeezing up and down Dylan’s tender sides. “Surely a strong young man like yourself can handle some tickles, or are you just a helpless little boy at heart?” She giggled to herself. Her voice pierced with a sting of subtextual animosity. Such subtleties were lost on Dylan, enduring more tickles bursting through his bound, helpless body than he ever had before. He began to suspect that there was truth to her humiliating, ticklish degradation.
Once Dylan’s breathing became challenged, even through sucking down the oxygen, Mommy finally pulled back. Sweat fell from the tips of his hair. His body continued to twist and writhe from the feather wheels stroking his vulnerably bound soles. His twitching and giggles grew exhausted. Tears soaked through his blindfold. Drool dripped from the corners of his lips. Mommy dabbed his chest once again with the handkerchief. The boy panted with exaggerated, groaning breaths, sucking in more and more of the gas fighting to calm his nerves and keep him awake. He felt more and more surrendered to the sadistic woman as the seconds ticked by.
“There, there, that’s not so bad, is it?” Mommy asked dryly. “Of course not. Because you still need to be punished… and we still have one more place to play. Oh, but first…” Mommy chuckled. Dylan could hear the clicks of her heels go farther away, back over toward the switches. Dylan tried to shake his head. Even as his perception deteriorated into a whirlwind of hysterical nonsense, his mind picked up on the clues and his body reacted with sharper breaths. Mommy snickered. She walked up to the switch box by the door. She pressed her finger against the final switch and gracefully flipped it up. The motors beneath Dylan roared. The wheels with the feathers started to speed up. The plumes flipped across Dylan’s soles with more speed, more feathers tickling his arches per minute. The constant stream of stimulation against his ticklish feet left Dylan nearly screaming with laughter once again.
“MMMMMPPHHHHeheheheehehe!!! MMPPPHHHEHEHEHheheheheeeeee!!!” Dylan laughed into the tube. His composure had lost all evidence of stoicism. He blubbered through his laughter, tears rolling down his rosy red cheeks through his blindfold. The tough boy quivered and struggled to endure the feathery tickles against his soles. Mommy watched as she slowly made her way back up to him, speaking into the bell.
“There, there, no need to worry your little head,” Mommy said. “You deserve this. Remember that. Now then, where have I missed…” Mommy’s nails made their way back to Dylan’s ribs. Delicate taps got Dylan giggling harder, his chest jerking side to side. The weights clanged. The chains rattled. Mommy giggled along with him. She rested two nails on each of his ribs and walked her fingers up slowly toward his pits. “Oh yes, how could I forget? Your special spots.” Dylan panicked through his laughter. Her nails walked closer and closer, taunting with each little step. Once they reached the outer perimeter of both pits, they stopped. They lingered in place, once again letting the anticipation seep in and corrode Dylan’s expectations. The seconds painfully passing by tickled into his mind. Dylan whimpered and whined through his laughter. He grunted in frustration, his mind begging for just the anticipation to end.
Mommy started lightly on the boy’s pits with soft skitters and scribbles. Unable to hold back any longer, she smirked and released ten dancing nails against Dylan’s slick hollows. Dylan’s body clenched. His arms pulled once again at the weights. His head jerked against the cage. Several metallic clangs accompanied a sudden shrieking into louder, more anguished ticklish laughter.
“MMMMMMGGGHHHHHEHEEEEHEHEEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!!” Dylan howled into the tube. More and more oxygen pumped into his lungs with each needful inhale. His heart pounded against his chest. Tickles poured into his body from his most sensitive areas, leaving his mind lost in a tempest of ticklish turmoil. The boy could only laugh, reduced to nothing more than a pitiful, blubbering mass of nerves.
“Heehee, coochie, coochie, coo…” Mommy taunted. “Remember dear, you brought this on yourself.” Her nails steadily scratched faster at Dylan’s soft, tender pits. The sweaty skin made quick scribbles easier and more destructive to his hyper ticklish nerves. A devious sneer stretched across the woman’s shallow face. She scribbled her nails faster and faster across both pits, thoroughly exploring every ticklish inch. Dylan screamed into the tube. Tickles exploded through him like wave after wave of eruptions. He thrashed as much as he could, his body wearing down the last of its reserved energy.
“GGGHHHHMMMMHEEHEEHEEHHEHEHEHEEEEEHEEHEHEHEEEE!!!! MMMNNNHEEHEEHEHHEHEHEHEHEHEHEH!!!” The boy’s screaming laughter exploded through the room. He wept through it, shrieking with manic hysteria as the nails traced over his ticklish pits again and again. Rapid, clawing scribbles decimated his cognition. His perception was purely the ticklish hell in which he had found himself, his mind unable to process anything else. Mommy kept Dylan locked in such a ticklish tomb as her fingers dug into his stretched, vulnerable armpits.
“Awww, not such a tough boy anymore, are you?” Mommy said, speaking right into the bell so Dylan could hear her clearly. “You should be thanking me. After we’re done, you may not even have the energy to be such a menace.” The feathers continued to work over his feet, stroking his soles endlessly whirring by the power gushing through the motors below. Mommy laughed as she danced her nails all over Dylan’s pits. She took full advantage of his most ticklish spots, standing comfortably to be able to tickle the boy for as long as she pleased.
“MMMMPPPHHEHHEEHHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEEEHEEE!!!! PLEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEGGHGHGHEHEHEHE!!!!” Words could not penetrate Dylan’s consistent laughter. Unable to beg or move or do anything else, Dylan was purely a vehicle for Mommy’s vengeful desires. He cried like he had not been able to since he was a little boy. Humiliation washed over him as Mommy’s reduced him to just a squealing, ticklish mess. Dylan shuttered and wailed through it all. His laughter poured through the room. It boomed with the vocals of a man yet the pitiful helplessness of a boy. He could do nothing but hang before Mommy and shriek with laughter
“Laugh for me,” Mommy taunted with a smile. “Coochie coochie coo.” Her voice was dry and clear through the brass echo chamber. It pumped directly into Dylan’s ear, allowing him to experience Mommy’s teasing phrases with the utmost of intimacy. His body burned throughout. The constant tickles against his soles served as a reminder of his inescapable plight. Those of his pits were more personally orchestrated and conveyed the direct approach of delivering his supposed punishment. Both riddling his body with flurries of tickles left Dylan’s mind blank beyond the ticklish sensations.
“MMMMMGGHHHHHHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHHEHEAHAHAAAA!!!! PPPPHHHMMMGGEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEEEEE!!!!” Dylan tried to beg through his laughter. The punishment had become far too much for his body to handle, and yet it was all too transparent that it was only just getting started. The idea that he would be there forever tickled his minds the way that Mommy’s nails skittered over his pits and the feathers swiped across his soles. Dylan groaned through his laughter. Every passing minute, his laughter became more tired and pathetic than the last. Mommy merely giggled. She smirked and enjoyed watching Dylan succumb to his ticklish fate. Her nails rapidly scraped against his pits. They danced across the skin and dug into the plush hollows. They seared Dylan’s senses with ticklish torment.
“So sad that it has to come to this for you all,” Mommy said. “But it’s nothing compared to what you all, all this, has put me through. You should be grateful.” Her smile was all too present in the moment, but her eyes stared vacantly. Soulless darkened pits that burned through Dylan’s form with sadistic intentions. Her fingers scribbled inhumanly fast. The steadiness of the feathers brushing across his slick, supple soles, sending bursts of tickles up with every pass, bore into his mind. It was torture of both undulation and persistence, of the predictable and the unpredictable working in tandem.
“MMMMMPPPGGGMMMMHEEEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEAHAAAAAA!!!!!!” Dylan screamed with an energy he had long since spent. His body twisted and pulled at its binds. Sweat continued to fall down his skin and drip onto the ground below. He howled like a caged animal. His ticklishness only seemed to worsen with time, exacerbated by shame and exposure. Tears soaked into his blindfold. He sucked down large gulps of the oxygen, each working to keep him from passing out. His body and mind begged for the mercy of unconsciousness, but Mommy tickled with the fury of a woman too hateful to concern herself with mercy.
Mommy scribbled and scraped her nails across Dylan’s pits with absolute apathy to his ticklish shrieks. She laughed along with him. She watched the boy suffer his punishment closely, repeating to him how much he deserved it for being there. Her voice turned sinister. Her nails worked as tirelessly as the feathers against his feet. Dylan’s mind began to crumble. His chest and stomach ached from the perpetual laughter. His body burned with fatigue, slipping deeper and deeper into a torturous surrender for which no end could be seen.
“Coochie coo…” Mommy’s voice echoed in his mind. “That’s right, suffer. They’ll all suffer…”
