#ticklestory

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Kickpuncher exchanges a few brief words with Punchkicker. The dialogue is clunky but establishes Kickpuncher’s growing awareness of his own humanity despite denying it in the last movie. This will lead him down the path-

The cold foot is once again there and Abed glances over at Troy who shows no signs of being aware of what he is doing, totally engrossed in the movie as he is. Abed decides to get Troy’s attention this time, and runs a finger up the socked sole causing Troy to let out a squeal before shooting him a dirty look.

“Abed!”

“Troy.”

“What the hell?”

“You’ve been putting your cold foot on me over and over.”

“So you tickled me?”

He sounds incredulous and Abed replies plainly, “I did.”

“Well-”

Abed probably should have known something would come of provoking Troy but he doesn’t expect the other man to grab both of his feet and run his fingers over them.

Nor does he expect to throw his head back and start laughing at how much it tickles! He doesn’t think anyone has ever touched his feet before, he had no way of knowing he was this ticklish. He doesn’t let that stop him though, and is able to snag Troy’s feet and rip the socks off before tickling Troy’s now bare, and still cold, feet.

“Hey don’t take those socks- Fine!”

Abed feels his being pulled off but he has Troy’s feet in a headlock, and he’s always liked the sound of Troy’s laughter, so even though Troy is now tickling him, he’s enjoying giving as good as he is getting, even as his socks finally come off.

It continues for a bit longer before Troy finally yells, “Time.”

He turns to face Troy, who is panting like he is.

“If we are going to do this- we’re going to do it right.”

“I was unaware there was a right way to do this.” Abed isn’t really sure he knows what ‘this’ even is beyond a tickle fight Troy started by being unable to keep his feet to himself.

“No, there is. First we need rules, a point system, a way to determine the winner-”

This sounds involved. Abed checks the clock.

“I have until seven tomorrow morning.”

Troy nods and says, “We can make that work.”

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Troy looks over the list of rules, his feet now slightly sweaty from being pressed against the radiator for the past fifteen minutes.

“So, we agree that the first to get the other to call ‘uncle’ is the winner.”

“Even though it is very cliche and this is probably the first time it has ever been done outside of TV.”

“Right. We agree that the winner gets one request, within reason, from the loser.”

“Something to make sure this stays interesting.”

“Agreed. We agree prior to starting that we make sure our bodies are as ticklish as possible- I still hate this one.”

“Your feet were too cold. It shows poor circulation. Warmer parts of the body are more sensitive and will make this more interesting.”

It sort of bothers Troy about the robotic way Abed assess his feet and how ticklish they are or aren’t and then makes a move to correct them. “Yea but it seems to benefit you!”

“You still agreed to do it. And now it’s too late to go back.”

Troy also kind of hates that he agreed so easily, he might as well have been downright eager, but there isn’t anything he can do about that now. “Anything is fair game below the knees and above the waist unless agreed otherwise.”

“Keeps options open.” Abed comments neutrally and Troy gives a nod.

“And that’s it. Are we agreed on all the rules then?”

Abed nods and to sign the deal, they do their handshake. Troy puts the notebook back before saying, “I think my feet are warm enough. If you’re ready-”

He’s suddenly pinned on his back, Abed sitting on top of him, long, slender fingers poking and prodding away at his ribs which has him squealing and squirming from side to side in a frantic attempt to escape, but as he goes left to escape some fingers, there are others waiting for him to bump right into, and when he goes right to escape those, he runs right back into the original pair he was trying to get away from.

“ChEHehEAteR!”

“Not really. We didn’t agree to anything else in the rules.”

Troy is stuck for several minutes squirming back and forth before he finally manages to flip Abed off of him and now sits on him. He really needs a minute but he knows Abed won’t give him that minute so he digs his fingers into his buddy’s armpits earning deep laughter from Abed.

Troy likes it. Abed doesn’t laugh, and Troy thinks it’s a shame cause he could listen to it all day. He’s so engrossed in the laughter that he ends up getting thrown off by Abed pretty easily. They grapple for a bit, getting random pokes and prods in. It turns out that his belly is really bad but Abed’s armpits are equally problematic.

Troy eventually manages to get on top of Abed again and can’t stop himself from fluttering his fingers lightly around Abed’s neck which produces the most adorable set of giggles he thinks he’s ever heard.

“You should laugh more,” he blurts out before thinking about what he is saying. In his embarrassment after that, he pauses a mistake because Abed doesn’t hesitate to capitalize on this.

“You too,” his friend replies and once again, he is flipped under the taller man who shows a total lack of mercy, poking and prodding at Troy’s muscled belly, muscles which aren’t helping him at the moment.

“Your laughter is very boyish, like school boy boyish,” Abed comments absently as he works Troy over. Something about the comment is both embarrassing because he’s a man now, but also flattering because Abed meant it to be a compliment and he likes to store up Abed’s compliments for days when he’s feeling low.

Still, as the nimble fingers continue to drill into his tight belly, he knows he needs to get out of this before he totally loses his mind, which feels like it might happen any time.

It’s only when Abed pokes into his belly button that Troy manages, through sheer ticklish induced strength, to burst free. Bucking Abed off of him stuns the other man long enough for Troy to jump on him- in a very manly, totally straight way- to take his revenge.

It’s strange, he’s never tickled anyone before, but right now, it feels like he might as well have been doing it his whole life. He just knows what to do- and it’s kind of awesome. That’s how things are with Abed though, the right thing to do just sort of comes and it makes his friendship with Abed easily the most low pressure one he’s ever had.

At some point he ends up under Abed again who leans down to blow hard on his belly.

He’s torn at laughing because it tickles so much, and because it sounds like a really wet fart, but when Abed pauses for a moment to breathe, Troy can’t stop himself from asking, “What was that?”

Abed frowns and then says, “I have no idea, I saw a boyfriend do it to his girlfriend once at a party.”

“Oh, I thought maybe it was something your dad did to you.”

Abed shakes his head. “No. My dad never did anything like this.”

Troy frowns and then says, “Yea, mine neither. If he saw me now he’d be super disappointed.”

Abed hums and then says, “Well he can’t see you right now.”

A wave of relief washes over him but before he can figure out how to properly thank Abed for getting rid of any shame that thought carried, his friend continues.

“And do you know what?”

“No, what?”

“I think it’s time we get back into it.”

Troy’s brain only catches up with what that means too late as Abed digs into his sides again and he is once again howling and thrashing around but even though Abed looks tall and lanky, he’s surprisingly strong and hard to throw off. It doesn’t stop Troy from trying as he squirms more and more but it isn’t until Abed goes to shift that he seizes his chance and is able to buck him off.

What follows is a mad scramble where they both end up poking and prodding anywhere they can find trying to distract the other long enough to get the upper hand. He feels several sharp tickles on his sides, armpits, and Abed even brushes a hand against his thighs which almost causes Troy to space out long enough to get pinned. He didn’t know they were ticklish, but apparently, all that muscle doesn’t help much against tickling.

At one point, Abed pulls out of reach and asks, “You’re still good with this?”

Troy frowns. “Yea.”

“Okay. Cool, cool, cool, cool.”

“Why'd you ask?”

“Well you’ve been shouting ‘stop’ and ‘cut that out’ so figured I should ask.”

Troy blinks, wide eyed for a moment. He didn’t remember saying any of that.

“Anyway, if you’re good-”

Abed leaves the sentence hanging, and lunges at Troy, who falls for it like he always does. It doesn’t take long for the taller man to wind up on top of him and he’s once again pinned as Abed’s skillful fingers find a new point of interest, Troy’s nipples.

Apparently, they are stupid ticklish, and unfortunately, he now understands why Jeff likes nipple play and he really wants Abed to stop but the nails continue to swirl teasingly around his nipples so lightly, he can barely feel it and that’s the most infuriatingly ticklish part about it, because he can’t do anything but laugh!

Troy realizes he needs to do something or he is going to lose and Abed’s foot is just barely in arm’s reach. He makes his gamble and lunges at it.

As his grip closes around the ankle, he lets out a crow of triumph. Abed's feet seemed a lot more ticklish than his upper body when they were on the couch, maybe he can get his buddy to give up by tickling him here.

He digs in, surprised that he kind of likes it? Abed’s soles are smooth to the touch and not gross sweaty, but slick enough that his dull fingernails slide across them with no resistance and Abed again produces a wonderful laughter, this one honest to goodness uncontrolled and it’s more musical than anything Troy has ever heard before and he loves it.

Somehow it comes naturally to him too. Abed’s feet are massive, way bigger than his and super soft, he remembers Abed almost always wears socks or slippers in the apartment so he guesses that makes sense, and also tracks with how soft his feet are since he does the same.

He just knows though, where to poke, where to scratch, where he can do the most tickling without hurting Abed and it’s amazing. At one point, he gets bold enough to say, “Coochi-coo!”

Abed shouts something incoherent in reply but Troy doesn't pay any attention to it as he continues exploring. Abed’s toes are long and kind of pretty somehow. He doesn’t know what it is about them, but he’s sure they’ll be fun to tickle and doesn’t think twice about wiggling his fingers between the squirmy digits and flossing the space between with his fingers.Abed seems to melt and Troy likes not only being in charge, but being able to make Abed laugh.

Unfortunately, he makes the mistake of not paying enough attention to his own feet and suddenly lets out a shriek and is suddenly thrown off and before he knows it, his feet are in Abed’s arms in a headlock and all he can do is watch in exhilarated terror as Abed’s nails start tracing up and down while he’s helpless to do anything other than watch.

The sensation is indescribable. He’s never really been tickled before this and on his upper body it was like his body would move without him thinking to escape the tickling, not it’s the same except he is watching Abed’s every move but is too damn ticklish to fight back effectively and all he can do is watch his own feet get tickled madly.

Everything he did to Abed’s feet, Abed does back to him, but with his being much smaller, he knows it has to tickle him more. All his nerves must be bunched up more so his feet have to be more ticklish! And it really sucks right now because Abed is easily dominating his feet with just one hand, using the other to control them and Troy is too tired from all the rolling around earlier to make much an effort and Abed is sitting cross legged, his own feet well protected against anything Troy might even think of doing.

He holds out for a while though, as Abed investigates each of his toes, pads, between, and underneath. Pokes, scratches, flossing, he even puffs a few breaths of cool air on them and lets it slide effortlessly between them.

Abed doesn’t contain himself to just Troy’s toes though, he takes a full tour of the ticklish feet, with Abed like meticulousness no matter how silly this all is. He works the heels with nails, pokes at the silky arches, and half massages, half tickles the balls of the feet until Troy’s world becomes limited to tickling and nothing else.

“UnHAHCLE!” He bellows, unable to take it anymore and like clockwork, his feet are released and he’s able to roll away from Abed in the least dignified way possible, panting against the couch as he has to catch his breath.

“I win,” Abed announces calmly, and needlessly.

Troy feels his face heat up as he says, “Yea, I guess you do.”

Abed stands up and goes to find his socks, pulling them over his feet before observing, “We made a mess.”

Troy glances around and it’s sort of true, they pushed things out of the way to make room and there are now stray articles of clothes that he doesn’t even remember taking off or having taken off. He half expects Abed to start putting things back together, but all his friend does is reach up to the top bunk and take the TV down and plug it back in.

“Doommaster Defeats the Forces of Good marathon?”

Troy puffs out a breath and nods, pulling his shirt back on and remembering that he technically owes Abed something and hoping that somehow- incredibly, his meticulous friend has forgotten. Sitting back down, he props his feet up on the coffee table that never holds coffee, still bare because he can’t be bothered to find his socks and doesn’t trust them not to tickle a bit since his feet still feel tingly.

He can’t stop himself from looking at them, and sometimes at Abed’s socked feet. He kind of hates to admit it, but the whole rolling around on the floor thing was fun. He’s an only child, growing up was kind of lonely sometimes. He had friends, but none like Abed… and his parents didn’t really tickle him either- it was new and he didn’t totally hate it even though he kind of hated it at the same time.

They get about ten minutes in before Abed speaks up, but keeps his eyes fixed on the TV, breaking the silence between them as he asks, “Did you have fun?”

Troy starts and then bluffs, “Fun? With that- no way! How could you think I did?”

“You keep looking at our feet, and didn’t even notice that I continued Kickpuncher.”

Troy does a double take at the screen before realizing that this is in fact the same movie they were watching before and is about to end.

“I- didn’t hate it. But I didn’t like it either!”

Abed hums, still watching the TV.

“I’m serious!”

He isn’t sure what he is serious about- both probably but he sort of wants Abed to assume it’s about not liking it, but also sort of hopes Abed knows he means not hating it so he doesn’t have to say it.

They lapse into silence for a bit longer, his eyes still mostly studying his and Abed’s feet before Abed speaks up again and says, “Hey Troy?”

“Yea?”

“I know what I want- for winning.”

Troy holds his breath as Abed continues.

“I want to do this again sometime.”

He exhales slowly, relieved that somehow, Abed knew what he wanted but didn’t know what to say. And also thankful that he can comfortably slip into the role of macho man without Abed calling his bluff as he replies, “You’re on. I’m not losing round two!”

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At study group on Monday, they are chatting about their weekends when Annie asks, “So how did the movie marathon go?”

Abed looks at Troy who predictably looks shocked at being asked. The group watches them with varying levels of concern and confusion before Abed says, “We didn’t do it.”

Shirley frowns and starts reaching across the table to put her hand on Troy’s forehead as she asks, “Are you sick? Are you still sick?”

Troy bats the hand away and says, “We got busy with something else.”

Abed knows that wasn’t the right thing to say, and it was the wrong tone to say it in. Troy sounded guilty about it which was sure to get the nosier members curious and sure enough Pierce demands, “Got busy doing what? I didn’t think anything stopped your movie nonsense.”

Troy stalls so Abed says, “We had a tickle fight.”

Troy looks at him in horror but Abed doesn’t really care.

Britta is the first to recover as she says, “And you filmed it for money?”

Abed frowns and looks at Troy who looks equally confused while a chorus of ‘ews’ arise from the table.

Britta defends herself. “I’m just saying that they are somewhat conventionally attractive men and people would pay money for a video of them doing that kind of thing.”

Deciding to end whatever conversation is going on Abed says, “I don’t think a tickling based movie exists. Actually, statistically speaking, many movies will avoid the topic of tickling because the hands on nature of it may make some people uncomfortable.”

“So you just… did it for fun?” Annie asks, obviously confused.

Troy shrugs and replies, “Yea.”

“Gay.” Pierce mutters.

“I’m not kissing you,” Carly says immediately and Freddy nods along because she shouldn’t have to.

“I don’t want a kiss from you, Carly Shay. You didn’t want one from me all the times I offered it to you and now you will rue the day!”

Carly looks a little startled and honestly, he is too. Nevel has been trying to kiss her for almost as long as he has been messing with them and now that he has the perfect can’t-be-refused opportunity, he turns it down? That is next level spite.

“So what do you want then?” His voice wavers a bit as he asks it and when Nevel’s eyes fall on him, he squirms a little.

The other boy crosses the small distance between them and brushes up against him as he announces, “I want you, Freddy Benson.”

His brain short circuits because gross, Nevel, and also why?

“Deal.”

Sam takes less than thirty seconds to decide as much, and his jaw drops. He looks at Carly, both in shock and for help but she shifts uncomfortably and asks, “For how long?”

“Carly!”

“Two hours. Less time than we spent together the first time we met.” Nevel’s voice is slick and persuasive, and it’s obviously working.

Carly looks at him helplessly and he feels sick to his stomach as she says, “It isn’t that long, Freddy. I had to deal with him on the shame date for longer.”

Nevel interjects and pushes, “Do I have a deal then?”

“Don’t I get a say in this?”

All three people in the room reply with a resounding, ‘no’, in unison.

“Wait-” he says, but the girls are already out the door, which Nevel closes behind them and looks at Freddy who feels empty- there’s a feeling of betrayal that he isn’t sure he knows how to deal with, combined with a dread of being left with Nevel.

“You still lose. iCarly will continue.”

It’s the only thing he can think to say because honestly, he’s confused. Nevel had them, and he gave it up?

The other boy ignores the statement, or maybe starts explaining in a roundabout way.

“I am going to start my own show, iNevel.”

Freddy rolls his eyes. “And you need a tech person.”

“No.”

Freddy blinks. “No?”

“No.” Nevel clarifies. “I need a partner.”

With a delicate finger beckoning, Nevel begins leading him down into the basement.

Freddy hates basements. He hates the one at the apartment, he hates all the ones he has been locked in over the years, he has no reason to suspect he will like this one.

Downstairs is a simple studio, it has none of the bells and whistles that the iCarly studio has. A simple camera, and a stage against an odd brick wall. It’s odd because it’s just there… The wall is in the middle of the room, so it isn’t load bearing. It seems like it was just created for a backdrop. On the wall is a mount of some kind. It looks a bit like a trophy plaque. It’s made of wood, but has nothing on it except three holes arranged in a triangle.

Nevel motions for him to follow around to the back side where there is a seat set very far forward and the three holes.

“Sit.” Nevel commands and Freddy frowns but does. Nevel moves back to the other side of the wall and then the holes get bigger.

“Put your head and feet in.”

Freddy grumbles but he does, a moment later sitting uncomfortably with his head and feet sticking out. He doesn’t think he has ever seen his feet this up-close before. Nevel shifts something and Freddy realizes the plaque opened somehow and is now closed around him.

There is a camera now pointed at them, the light flashing to indicate it is recording.

“Welcome to the first iNevel broadcast where today we have Freddy Benson, the tech wiz of the iCarly channel. Like many of you, I too watch the weekly live streams, and I too have had my fair looks at the feet of the most famous tech nerd in Seattle and like many of you, I also fell in love.”

Freddy’s brain freezes up because what?

“And even though I have them all to myself, I thought it would be better to share them with all of you.”

He notices a monitor set up where he can see the comments section of the stream which is blowing up. They… really like his feet. He feels his toes curl at comments about licking them and worshiping them, but tickling comes up the most often and that makes him cringe.

“So today, we are going to tickle these feet all stream. You post in chat what you want to see, and Freddy will get to pick what happens to his pretty feet.

“This is so messed up,” Freddy groans as the comments continue to fly.

It doesn’t matter what he says though, because it changes nothing.

“Alright Freddy Benson, pick. My fingers on your handsome feet for three minutes, or this brush for one minute?”

Nevel holds up a plastic brush. It’s intimidating, but Freddy growls. Nevel may have him here but he doesn’t have to play along. He isn’t about to make this easy for the punk.

Unfortunately, Nevel seems to have anticipated that and when it becomes clear he isn’t going to get an answer, Nevel’s fingers lay into his feet with no warning. The fingernails aren’t sharp, not like Sam’s when she scratches him, but sharp enough to light up every nerve in his foot as they pass over it, driving Freddy wild.

It feels like it takes forever for the tickling to stop but as soon as it does, Freddy feels the brush make contact and like lightning, starts thrashing and squirming. He tries to kick but the stocks that hold him prevent any movement of his feet other than flicking his soles up and down at the ankles which he does in a desperate but ultimately futile attempt to protect his poor feet from their tickling.

When it stops, he’s gasping for breath as Nevel asks, “Do you want your soles tickled by my fingers for three minutes, or your toes for one?”

“Soles-” Freddy gasps out, not even really thinking about the fact that he is consenting to the tickling just knowing Nevel will go for his toes otherwise and that can’t happen.

He does regret the decision right away though as the nails return to their abuses of his soles. Nevel goes so far as to grab one sole in a headlock and press his thumb and index finger together before drilling into the perfect center of his sole. He can’t even throw his head back to laugh because of the headstock and the total lack of movement adds to the heightened tickling.

“Toes for thirty seconds or brushes for three.”

Freddy pales and Nevel smirks and says, “Tick-tock Freddy Benson. You know what happens if you don’t decide.”

The brush was terrible, but his toes- this is impossible!

“Umm- toes!”

He curses himself the second he says it because Nevel does nor spare his toes at all, going right at them with feverish delight and even though Freddy tries to clench his toes, it isn’t anywhere near enough to dull the sensation to something manageable.

“Tell us a story about your feet, or tell us how you take care of them to keep them so perfectly ticklish.”

Freddy blushes and then says, “I don’t really think I have any stories about them being tickled so I guess I apply lotion before I go to sleep and after I shower.”

Not by choice, another of his mom’s many weird idiosyncrasies. It isn’t just to his feet, it’s everywhere and it does mean he doesn’t have dry skin like other people have to deal with.

“Really? No guy has ever seen these feet and given them a good tickling? What a shame.”

Freddy thinks Nevel might be flirting with him but luckily he isn’t given much time to think about that because the next challenge is up almost right away. “Feather five minutes or brush for three?”

“Feather.”

There is no way a feather is that bad and as Nevel brings the fluffy part down on his sole, Freddy smirks, confident for the first time because he feels it, but it isn’t nearly as ticklish as any of the other things.

His victory is short lived because Nevel flips the feather upside down and goes at him with the point of it which Freddy decides is like a worse finger nail. It’s pointer, and more tickly, there’s only one of them which is a relief but not much of one.

Five minutes of that give Freddy plenty of time to see the error in his ways and it feels like much longer than five minutes. Nevel is also cooing softly to him but Freddy can barely hear over his own laughter which is a mixed blessing.

As soon as it finishes Nevel says, “People must have liked my feather work because it might be back for round two. Feather between your toes for three minutes, or brush under your toes for the same time?”

“Feather?”

At this point he isn’t sure there is a right choice but once the feather saws between his squirming toes, he can’t help but hope this was the right one because that would mean something could tickle worse than this, and Freddy isn’t ready to contemplate that possibility.

Nevel doesn’t even have to do anything fancy… not that Freddy is sure there is a fancy way to tickle someone but Nevel just saws the feather back and forth and that is more than enough to keep Freddy in hysterics with milliseconds of peace when Nevel moves the feather to torture a different pair of toes.

“Brush under your toes for one minute or on your soles for five.”

Freddy groans because he is almost tempted to let it happen to his toes but that would be madness so he reluctantly says, “Soles.”

“Desperate to protect those toes, huh? I can’t wait to get at them more.”

Nevel’s teasing is the least of his worries as the brush bristles assault his soles and Nevel makes sure to cover his whole foot this time, heels up to the balls of his feet. Only his toes escape and while Freddy is happy for that, the rest is pure torture. Especially since Nevel never keeps things predictable, he always targets a new area or changes the speed just enough that any mental prepping Freddy tries to do is totally pointless and the five minutes feel closer to five years.

“Give Nevel ownership to your feet and let him sign them, or five minutes with the brush.” Nevel smirks when he finishes reading and taunts, “I know what I want.”

Freddy grumbles and says, “Sign them.”

“That isn’t it, Freddy Benson. You have something else you need to say.”

He wrinkles his nose and says, “Nevel owns my feet? You are doing what you want with them anyway, so what does it maThEHR!”

“Careful or you’ll make me write it sloppy and then I’ll have to start again.”

Freddy tries his best to hold still but the cool, damp pen tickles- maybe not worse than the brush or the feathers, but different and still terrible. There’s a few moments where Nevel blows puffs of cool air on his sweaty feet that have him ready to jump out of his skin as well. He has no doubt that tomorrow morning when he has to wash the message off that he will feel a rush of shame, but that sounds like a humiliation for later.

“Get your toes kissed, or sucked?”

Because apparently there is still humiliation for today to deal with. He has no idea which he is supposed to pick so Freddy blushes and says, “Kissed I guess.”

It sounds less invasive but Nevel seems all too delighted to work his way down the line and leave a sloppy, wet kiss on each toe which has Freddy giggling and feeling conflicted about not totally hating or being disgusted by the feeling.

It occurs to Freddy how messed up this is, making him pick what form of tickling he has to suffer through. He has to choose, or Nevel will do both, but there is a humiliating level of having input into it at all. Instead of a passive position, he is forced to take an active part in it. He doesn’t want Nevel’s mouth anywhere near his feet, and yet here is choosing to have his toes kissed by his nemesis.

“Fuzz thread? Or lickled?”

Freddy blinks for a moment and then says, “Thread?”

He has no idea what the thread is, but he can only guess which two words are put together to create lickled and he is all too happy to avoid that.

The thread Nevel pulls out is exactly as advertised, pink and fuzzy and for a blissful moment, Freddy fails to understand its true purpose because it doesn’t look like it will be too bad on his soles. And then Nevel laces it between his toes and he realizes what a grace mistake he made, “No- Lickle- lickle!”

But too late the murderous thread slides between his big toe and it’s neighbor and he can hear Nevel taunting him but can’t really make it out because the fluff between his toes sawing back and forth is new levels of maddening.

If he had been curious about what Nevel said, which he isn’t, he ends up getting an answer anyway in the form of Nevel’s warm, wet tongue on his soles and that, combined with the thread, nearly causes him to pass out from sensory overload.

Nevel gives him a break after that and Freddy feels weirdly thankful to his tickler for it because he isn’t sure he could have gone back into another round of it right away. Of course, it doesn’t last nearly long enough and Nevel is quickly giving him the next choice.

“Lotion or oil?”

Freddy frowns and then says, “Lotion?”

He isn’t sure what the point is but judging from Nevel’s look of glee, there is one, or he’s just happy for any excuse to touch Freddy’s feet. He pumps a generous amount into his hand and then starts to massage it into Freddy’s soles, taking more time than Freddy thinks is necessary. Once finished, Nevel continues by asking, “Fingers for five or brush for three?”

Freddy sighs and says, “Brush.” At this point, he figures the shorter tickle challenges he takes, the more chances he has for non tickle ones to pop up and that might keep him sane through all of this.

It’s only after the brush makes contact that he realizes what the point of the lotion is and that he’s made a terrible mistake because if the brush was murder before, the frictionless surface of his now lotioned feet make it doubly so. He had assumed it couldn’t get any worse, but the way the brush just slides across his soles with no effort at all means that it tickles even more and even faster and Freddy is howling but still totally trapped and now more ticklish than ever.

It isn’t even the brush, every tool is far more menacing with the lotion all over his feet and the only minor consolation is Nevel won’t put his mouth on Freddy’s feet over the oil which isn’t much of a prize.

Eventually, he stops paying attention to the options and just picks the first one each time, too tired to try to figure out which will tickle less.

Freddy is nearly hysterical when the stream ends, tears sting the corners of his eyes and sweat has dripped into them, making them sting. He feels the pressure on his ankles and neck let up and he pulls himself out. He reaches for his socks, eager to get them on and get out of this whole, humiliating ordeal when Nevel grabs his hands and leads him over to a couch where he pulls Freddy’s still bare and very tingly feet onto his lap.

“No way- no more tickling.”

The horror of saying the word has worn off after having it done to him for an hour straight but Nevel’s hands grasp his soles and instead start massaging them, leading to a groan of pleasure from Freddy.

“I meant what I said. People will pay good money to see these feet tickled. The stream made several hundred, and I will of course be sending half of it your way.”

Freddy’s eyes widen, both at the amount made, and the fact that Nevel is just giving him a cut.

“I told you. I was looking for a partner, not a tech person.”

He flushes a darker red as Nevel continues.

“I have had a crush on these feet for a long time, and maybe on the boy who owns them.”

Deflecting, Freddy replies, “You would have a crush on yourself.”

It’s awkward to use all of that to escape the idea that Nevel might have a crush on him.

He feels two wet kisses placed on his big toes and turns an even darker shade of red. “On air I might, but I don’t think so off air, at least not until you let me.”

The world is truly a messed up place if Nevel Papperman would be sweet talking him, and Freddy might be falling for it.

“You have a crush on Carly,” he says, hoping to get Nevel to admit this is all bull.

“I did. But then I saw you. At first it was strictly a foot thing but then I realized that you have something she doesn’t have, loyalty. Imagine if you gave that to someone who appreciated it, instead of trading you to me for two hours without more than three minutes of thinking about it?”

“I don’t know that you’ll be loyal.”

“I will prove it. Over time at least. You’ll see.”

Freddy rolls his eyes here and says, “Or I’ll rue it?”

Nevel shrugs. “I can’t say. I have no plans on getting revenge on you if you don’t, but you already know how appreciated you are by your friends.”

Freddy doesn’t have a reply to that. Nevel massages his feet until the phantom tickles are finally gone, he talks a bit, not seeming to mind that Freddy gives no replies. Some of it is about Freddy and is cute feet, which is awkward. Some of it is about things he realized he admired about Freddy, which is more awkward because it’s compliments no one has ever given to him. Mostly it’s idle chatter about nothing in particular and it’s strange that Freddy is more at ease here, knowing he can just relax and Sam isn’t going to come attack him or Carly isn’t going to need his help in some scheme.

Nevel lets him out shortly after and the whole way home, he thinks it all over in his head.

iNeveliNeveliNeveliNeveliNeveliNeveliNeveliNeveliNeveliNeveliNeveliNevel

            They were disturbed by pounding on the door followed by fits of laughter. Joe rolled his eyes annoyed but went to open the door. A large man stumbled inside with a massive grin on his face. He looked around the room smiling widely at the boys. He was dressed in a large overcoat and dark pants. “Hello.” His voice was happy, but strange, not quite human somehow. Joe still looked annoyed and without even trying to be polite asked “What do you want.” The man looked a little taken aback by the rudeness but a smile quickly reappeared, even though this one seemed more malicious and less jovial. “Well I was here to relieve you all of your stress, but now I feel there is punishment in order now.”

            The man advanced menacingly towards Joe who continued to glare at him. As he got close, he reached out and grabbed at Joe. The college student stepped back and growled “Don’t touch me.” The man’s face contorted and from his back and sides emerged another three pairs of arms. The boys in the room screamed and Joe’s face lost its color. The monster reached out and grabbed at Joe again, this time securing him. The arms that emerged from the monster’s back were long enough to teach over his shoulders and grab Joe’s wrists, holding them in the air above his head. The remaining sets of arms set to work kneading and poking the suspended boy’s sides and ribs. The result was Joe glaring at him more and saying “I’m not ticklish you weirdo, let me go and get lost. The monster’s cold smile never changed as his arms moved back to lie at his sides. “Well I guess I just have to fix that. This dimension isn’t suitable to punish you all anyway, too much of a chance for interruption.”

            The building shook and the boys not being held were thrown to the ground. Senghoon recovered the fastest and rushed to the door leading outside. He threw it open only to find that everything outside of the building was gone, and was instead replaced with a black void. He slammed the door shut and turned back around when Joe’s voice got his attention. “I don’t know what you are but put me down and get lost!” The monster had said nothing for a few moments but now he spoke up not particularly addressing Joe but giving a warning to all of them, “This is my play pen; in here, everything is how I want it, and I want my new plaything to be ticklish,” he reached out and poked Joe’s side with one finger and got a giggle. Joe looked surprised while the monster the chucked unpleasantly. “I told you, this dimension makes whatever I want reality.” With that, the monster’s arms assaulted Joe’s sides with pokes and squeezes turning the glaring college student into a laughing wreak. Austin and Mike both grabbed Joe and tried to pull him away but found the monster much stronger than they were.

            The monster looked at the remaining three boys while still torturing Joe, “I suggest you boys start running, when I’m done with him, it’s your turn.” Mike, although obviously scared managed to say, “We won’t leave without Joe.” The declaration sounded almost bold but as the monster’s eyes locked with his, any bravery vanished, “Your welcome to try to get him back, your tickling will only come sooner.” With that comment the three boys fled the room. The monster turned his turned his attention back to Joe. “Don’t think too badly of them, I don’t want them here right now, so they won’t stay. Now to deal with your punishment properly, I can’t stand rudeness.”

            A pair of hands pulled Joe’s shirt off while the other’s backed off to give a short break. “Fuck you.” Joe’s voice was cold even though his face was red with embarrassment. “That was the wrong thing to say little man.” With Joe’s shirt off, the monster had access to the bare flesh underneath. The hands returned with a vengeance, all six on his sides abusing the ticklish skin there.

“hahehahehaheha” Joe’s laughter was immediate. He squirmed trying to get away from the hands but being held the way he was, there was no escape. He continued to twist and pull, getting nowhere while the monster taunted him, “What’s wrong tough guy, you had a lot of nerve when all I wanted to do was help. Now you and your friends are in big trouble.”

“Plehehehehase stahahahahap.” Joe’s face had quickly turned red and tears had started leaking from his eyes. “Oh now you’ve learned some manners, too bad it’s too late.”

            The monster’s fingers continued to torment his ribs until one pair moved up more and started tickling his underarms. Joe’s laughter increased and his face only got redder. “Stahahahap.” The soft skin, not well protected by the light hair, was sensitive in ways Joe had never felt and the sensation was driving him crazy. His body had never been sensitive like this before but now, ever nerve ending was alive and ticklish. “The best part was that this was all avoidable if you had just been more polite, but now all of you are doomed to a ticklish nightmare beyond what you could imagine. Well, not doomed, there is a way out of course.”

 Joe’s mind was beginning to feel foggy but it did seize on that comment. “Whahahat dohohaha yohahohaho mehehehen?” “Again with the issue with manners, maybe this will help.” The monster raised Joe so that his belly was in front of the monster’s face. The creature’s lower pair of arms went to torment Joe’s thighs and knees and the creature’s mouth started blowing raspberries into the boy’s belly button. Joe produced a squeal he had not known he was able to make. In between the raspberries the monster taunted him, “Poor little ticklish boy, if only you had shown some manners.” Fuhahahack yohohohohu!”

            The tickling suddenly stopped and Joe opened his eyes for a moment only to see the full rage on the monster’s face. “That was the worst mistake you could have made.” His voice was low and dangerous and Joe was terrified. The monster threw him up in the air and grabbed him by his ankles. His socked feet were now up by the monsters face and the rest of his body hung down.

            “I was actually planning on letting you and your friends off easy but not you’re not getting any mercy.” With that menacing comment, Joe felt fingers dancing across his feet. None of the previous tickling could prepare him this sensation. The fingers felt like rods of lightning shooting up his spine. His struggling returned in force but the monster’s arms held him tightly. “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.” “Oh you think this is bad? This is just the beginning.” And for several excruciating minutes all Joe could do was laugh and trying plead for mercy that was not coming. Then he felt something that terrified him more, the tickling stopped. From his position hanging upside down, he had to bend to neck to look up and when he did, he saw a pair of hands moving towards his socks. He felt the hands tug at them and the thin fabric that was his only protection, begin to slide off. Horrified as he was at this he was too drained to put up a great fight, he clenched his toes and hoped that something would divert the monster’s attention away from his feet. The monster succeeded in getting his socks off despite his hopes and all ten fingers began to torment his bare feet in earnest.