The Waverton Mansion has been inhabited since the 1800s at least.
Over the centuries, it was occupied by a Lenape Camp, a British and American Military Camp as well as a British POW Camp during the Second World War. It was also a pest house for cholera victims in the early 19th century.
Before then it hosted families soaked with wealth. Today, it is the home for eight young men and the perverse cult that holds them captive, ‘The House of White Feathers’.
The Waverton Mansion has also developed a crack in its event room ceiling that was small enough to go unnoticed, but strong enough to cause a cloud of dust to crumble to the marble floor …
The Hole
“We’re not the first,” Justin noted, “To do shit like this …”
The same fingertips he had used to transform Logan into a quivering mess now trailed over famous names from the seventies and beyond, scratched into the tiles of the cell wall that made up The Hole.
Logan sat in the cross legged position on a padded bench, his sunglasses concealing his impatience as he angled himself towards the tiny square window where he attempted to feast on some of the morning sun.
He remained silent, just like he had done for the past six hours; he refused to speak to Justin, he refused to look him in the eye and above all else, he refused to make small talk.
Justin paced around the tiny cell and tucked his hands behind his head.
“You’re gonna have to talk to me sometime, handsome,” he stifled a yawn, “They shoved us down here so we can hash it out. N’ we can’t hash it out if you’re playing hard to get …”
Justin looked into Logan’s back as another beat of silence filled the cell.
…
All too quietly, he slid his index finger inside of his mouth and coated its length in a thick layer of saliva.
He then took a step forwards.
Logan successfully busied himself with his well crafted sulk until he felt the unwelcome and sudden invasion of Justin’s moist, warm finger as it wedged itself deep within his right ear.
“—You fuck!—”, Logan spun to the side with such immediate strength that his sunglasses hurtled off his nose, his hands slamming over both ears as if he were protecting them at all costs, “—Gross!—”
Justin exploded into an entertained cackle whilst Logan’s sunglasses landed at his feet, “Wow!” He exclaimed, “You are hard fucking work, dude,” he picked the sunglasses up, cleared his throat and then handed them back to Logan as if he were doing his cell mate some kind of favour.
Logan snatched the sunglasses away from Justin, shoved them back over his face and folded his arms, his stiff shoulder roll simply saying, ‘I am not’ …
Justin took a seat next to Logan and huffed out a frustrated sigh.
“We’re basically twins,” Justin declared, “You know that, right?”
Logan blinked so fast that his eyelashes rubbed against the lens of his sunglasses, however he refused to look towards the Canadian pop star even if every muscle in his neck wanted him to do so.
“I hate them …” Justin thumbed his chest, “… You hate them,” he pointed at Logan, “I don’t wanna be here …” he thumbed his chest again, “… You don’t wanna be here,” he pointed at Logan once more, “We just handle it in different ways,” he decided.
Logan’s lips twisted into an entertained smirk as he finally gave in and verbally spoke up.
“No …” he sniffed, “… You’re an asshole …” he pointed at Justin, “… I’m not …” he thumbed his own chest, “… You put others through shit to make yourself feel better …” he pointed at Justin again, “… I don’t,” he tutted and shook his head, “We have fucking zero in common and, and I hope those fucking clowns you’re terrified of get to make an example of you.”
Justin raised both eyebrows, “Oh, okay, nice, so …” he rubbed his hands together, “This is probably a good time for me to tell you that I saw what you did to Seb …” he paused, waited a moment, and then proceeded, “… In the woods, the day we all tried to make a run for it? …”
Logan pursed his lips and continued to face the sun.
“You let him walk into that trap,” Justin reminded Logan, “You put yourself first … ” he then transformed his voice into a husky whisper, as if his statement were for just Logan, “ … That’s kinda something I would’ve done …” he sneered.
Logan looked into his lap and quietly shook his head, “No. You don’t understand,” he mumbled, “And how can you? Everything’s a damn joke in Bieber’s world.”
Justin purposefully whined in a dramatic cry, his animated reflection caught perfectly in Logan’s sunglasses, “Awh. Have you and Sebby had a little falling out?”
Logan watched a morning cloud block the sun as the surrounding cell became tinged in a dim lighting …
“If you must know,” Logan gulped, “It’s uh, it’s been going on for a while,” he removed his sunglasses, his eyes bloodshot and tired, his explanation reluctant, “And before you get off on the theatrics, there was no explosive row, no specific moment, no grand argument, okay? …”
Justin stretched his grin into an understanding smile.
Logan thought about Kit and Joshua, their tactile friendship, the fact they’re always talking or spotted side by side, “… This kinda shit either pulls people together,” he then thought about he and Seb, how long it took to get a text back, how often he’d ignore Sebs calls, how they had barely exchanged more than ten words with each other since arriving in Sweden, “… Or it tears people apart.”
Both Justin and Logan turned to face the front of The Hole as a metal key slid into the lock and unlocked the cell door.
“See,” Justin got to his feet and held his hand out to Logan, “That wasn’t too hard, was it?”
Logan rolled his eyes and held onto Justin’s hand as Justin helped him into a stand, pulling him up close so that their noses were a fraction apart.
The cell door opened, allowing two Masked Henchmen to step inside of The Hole.
“The fourth game has been announced,” The Masked Henchman to the left informed, “Please make your way back to The Living Quarters where the players of Game Four and its details will be revealed.”
As Justin began to make his way towards the open door, Logan kept hold of Justin’s hand and turned him around, ensuring that they still stood toe to toe.
“You mean nothing to me,” Logan urged, his icy blue eyes aimed at Justin’s lips, “I don’t think about you, ever.”
Justin glanced down towards the thickening transformation below Logan’s waist.
“Who are you reassuring, Percy Jackson?” Justin shrugged his arm free and made his way towards the open cell door, “Me, or yourself?”
Logan’s grip tightened around his sunglasses as he followed Justin out of The Hole, his other hand hiding the growing arousal behind his underwear …
“… Timothée chose three of you to take part in Game Four …”, T.K announced.
All contestants narrowed their eyes away from the flashing black orb nailed to the wall and landed their accusatory glare directly on Tim, who stood in the shadowed corner of The Living Quarters with his arms folded, dressed in a baggy white tee and adidas shorts, refusing to apologise for a decision he could hardly remember making, thanks to the level of hypnosis he had endured in Game Three.
“… Those who have been chosen will find a diamond piggy underneath their pillow …” T.K explained, “… If you find a diamond piggy, please keep hold of it, remove all of your clothing and stand by the cell door …”
Almost everyone besides Tim now stood on high alert.
“… Well, what are you waiting for!—”, T.K jeered, “—Go take a look!—”
Joshua sighed as he snatched his pillow into the air, greeted by only a blank mattress - was he still being punished for trying to sneak a phone into The Living Quarters? Would Peter ever forgive him?
When Sebastian lifted his pillow he found a folded up note - the surrounding contestants were far too concerned with their own fate to notice Sebastian quickly take the note and stuff it in the pocket of his sweatpants …
Logan practically hurtled towards his bed in a frantic leap, slipping in his socks and hardly able to see through his sunglasses as he snatched his pillow away from the mattress and fell into the confines of blissful comfort, relief saturating his face, “—Nothing, I, I got nothing!—”
Justin lifted his pillow and smirked, turning towards T.K where he chose to blow a grateful kiss towards the A.I generated orb, “No little piggy for me …” after all, he wasn’t surprised, after his agreement with the person he called ‘the old guy in the wheelchair’, Justin shouldn’t be even looking at the possibility of entering a game at all …
Ross held a diamond piggy between his thumb and index finger, its sparkle reflecting in the hazel of his eyes, only one word leaving his lips in an attempt to summarise his predicament, “… Finally …” he hugged the pillow and the piggy close to his chest.
Kit lifted his pillow and gasped quietly as he found his own diamond piggy beneath it - Joshua quickly joined his side and grabbed hold of his shoulders, “It’s your time to shine, man!” He cheered, shaking Kit in excitement.
As The Living Quarters fell quiet with only the sound of breathless anticipation vibrating between the walls, Tom was the final contestant to lift his pillow …
Tom laid the diamond piggy over his palm.
The sparkling object, no bigger than a stationary rubber, represented so much; the unknown of what would take place next, the amount he could earn if he won the game and most importantly of all - the reason why Tim chose him.
Tom curled his fingers into his palm, concealing the diamond piggy in a tight clutch.
He looked up slowly, his testing scowl penetrating Tim who remained concealed by shadow in the corner of The Living Quarters.
“Nice …” Tom dropped the piggy over his mattress and pulled away his vest, yanking down his sweatpants shortly after.
Tim had an opportunity to step forwards, to defend not only himself but the friendship he had with Tom, to explain that he had simply chosen numbers instead of anyone specific, to make it clear that there was not even a game plan behind his decision making …
It isn’t personal, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking straight …
The Tim of 2020 would have listed those reasons at the top of his lungs …
The Tim of today simply stood still and returned the scowl.
Tom kicked away his underwear and then walked entirely nude towards the cell door, where a butt naked Ross stood with his hands on his hips and a wide green across his face.
“Yikes, Holland,” Ross eyed Tom from head to toe, “You’re completely hairless?”
Tom positioned himself beside Ross and adjusted his balls by bending his knees a little, “Yeah, mate,” instead of explaining how itchy it can feel within the confines of a Spider-Man costume under the heat of a set, Tom bluntly expressed, “It’s er, a Marvel thing ...”
Ross pursed his lips as he took in the details of Tom’s ultra smooth, toned physique, “You’re soft as fuck, no wonder they love you,” he then assessed his own underarm hair; its moist, thick length, the way the curls gathered into heavy bunches, “I prefer being like this, man, makes me feel so hot,” his grin widened.
Kit appeared between Tom and Ross, still in just his sweatpants.
“Wait, you’re both naked …” He seemed shy.
Tom’s eyebrows creased into a flat line, mostly due to the realisation that he could not pry Kit into removing his clothes so suddenly, even if he wanted to - Tom had enough intelligence to remember the days where he struggled to be naked in front of another man as if they were yesterday.
“Don’t be coy, Kit,” Ross teased, his fingers snatching at the waistband to Kit’s sweatpants, “Show us that booty!”
Joshua stepped forwards, “Hey, labrador—” his whisper was urgent, “—You don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do …”
Logan scoffed and dropped himself onto his bed, “Advice of the year goes to …” he muttered to himself.
Kit found himself turning in all different directions as the group began to squabble over what Kit should do, until a tall standing presence overshadowed Kit in the form of a muscular and stern Sebastian Stan.
“Do as you’re told,” Sebastian growled.
Justin could not help but include himself, “Oh sure, because you’re not rebellious at all …!”
Kit’s eyes widened as he nodded quickly, swiftly removing his sweatpants, revealing to everyone surrounding him that he had chosen to not wear underwear …
“Commando Connor!—” Justin quipped, as Joshua stifled an entertained giggle.
Sebastian stepped back as Kit joined Tom and Ross by the cell door, which clicked, unlocked and conveniently opened, as if what stood behind had been patiently waiting since T.K’s announcement.
Three hooded Masked Henchmen walked inside The Living Quarters, their cloaks billowing behind, each holding a set of handcuffs …
Each Masked Henchmen stood in front of Tom, Ross and Kit, with The Masked Henchman in the middle directing orders.
“Hands behind you,” he instructed, “Backs facing us.”
Tom, Ross and Kit shuffled into position, each unintentionally providing a view that Joshua struggled to not check out.
“—Damn—”, he dropped onto the corner of his bed, “—My ass is flat as a pancake …” he admitted, whilst gazing over the deep arch of Tom’s lower spine, the pert of his pale, round butt cheeks and the silky smooth expanse of flesh between his thighs.
As Tom’s wrists were cuffed behind his back, his cheeks blushed pink, “Spider-Man’s not allowed to have a small arse, mate …”
Kit glanced over his shoulder, his eyes landing on Joshua’s socked feet where they then trailed up to his navel, “I like your bum,” he bit his lower lip as he watched Joshua smirk back at his attempt to flirt.
“Hey!—”, Ross wiggled his hips as his hands were cuffed behind his back, “—Do I get some love?—”, his juicy, tanned butt wobbled as almost every contestant, even Sebastian, chuckled in amusement.
Tim’s deep, almost uncontained growl silenced the room, “—Stop it.”
Everyone lowered their heads as the two words that left Tim’s mouth requested more than quiet; they told everyone that this was serious and that there was no time for joking …
As Tom, Ross and Kit were escorted out of The Living Quarters by the three Masked Henchmen, Tom shot a complacent look towards Tim.
“I won’t forget this, mate …” he warned.
As Tim blinked in startlement and as the three chosen contestants left The Living Quarters, Justin arrived behind Logan.
“You know that shit you said about all this pulling people together?” He whispered.
Logan nodded quickly as he watched the cell door slam shut and then lock.
“… It doesn’t mean it lasts,” said Justin.
In 2023, Harry Styles won two Grammy Awards for Best Pop Vocal Album and Album of The Year …
The audience, his friends and family, the members of One Direction as well as the rest of the world put his solo success down to his talents; his songwriting skills, his voice, his shining charisma …
What they did not know is that Harry accepted an offer that seemed unique, an exchange of something ordinary for the extraordinary, a proposal that many like him had received hundreds of times before and dozens of times afterward …
To see the Grammy awards arrive in his palms, Harry endured tickle torment at the hands of some of the most experienced ticklers within The House of White Feathers.
Highly ticklish, exceptionally energetic and beyond compulsive, Harry seethed, cackled, lunged and screamed his way beneath every tool imaginable until the expected happened; at The 65th Grammy Awards ceremony, Harry received his trophies …
It was shortly after that he felt the unexpected: an undeniable and animalistic need to make others feel how he had been made to feel.
It started by watching porn; random videos featured on MyBuddiesFeet and then into the depths of PornHub and ThisVid …
Then it grew into joining The House of White Feathers as a member; within a few weeks he had talked his once boyfriend Louis Tomlinson into partaking in his newly discovered fetish and after some months he officially requested training from the cult, where he was shaped into a finely tuned master of sensory exploration, with good friend Zayn Malik as the lee that would suffer Harry’s learnings …
Since then Harry had obliterated both Sebastian Croft and Shawn Mendes, transforming them from curious and cheeky to sweat-soaked and speechless, just like he had been over two years ago …
On Day Four of The Games, Harry stood within a giant carpeted hall surrounded by tall standing pillars and twinkling chandeliers.
He wore a black buttoned up suit, sheer socks and patent leather loafers.
His green eyes sparkled in the shines of light beaming through The Mansions windows; his fingernails were painted pale blue, his brown head of hair had been neatly styled into the iconic quiff his millions of fans adored, their dedication to his celebrity entirely ignorant towards who he really was …
Behind him, Miller and a singular Masked Henchman carrying a red velvet case no larger than a shoe box stood at the doorway of the hall …
“There’s usually a big ceremony for this kind of thing,” Miller began to walk towards Harry, The Masked Henchman carrying the velvet case following at his side, “But John’s health doesn’t allow for such a frenzy, I do hope you understand …”
Harry turned to face Miller, a playful smirk lifting the corners of his lips.
“I assume that means they’re ready,” Harry looked down at the red velvet case, “If that’s what I think it is …”
The Masked Henchman opened up the case, presenting to Harry his official House of White Feathers mask that the Grammy Award winner had specifically designed himself.
“Three pairs of the most ticklish feet we’ve ever found, prepared for you and your toys …” Miller nudged the case closer to Harry’s chest, “… And this, your identity, created for you and you only.”
Harry carefully picked up the mask from the case.
To the average Masked Tickler, one might assume that the mask defeated its purpose; this was more of a muzzle made up of leather, concealing only below the bridge of the nose to the end of the chin - it did not hide the perverse behind the person, instead it confidently presented a visceral truth, something Harry only felt uniquely proud of.
With respect and honour, Harry attached the mask to his face and clipped the strap to the back of his head.
“So, what’s it gonna be, Darth Styles?” Miller paced around Harry like a shark, “You gotta have a sinful name, looking like that …” he took in the broadness of his back, the expensive material of his suit, the shine of his footwear, “I gotta admit, I’m glad you chose to show off those pretty eyes of yours. I remember how wide they used to bulge, anytime we slid something soft between your—”
“—Go by what you’ve always called me,” the ticklee turned tickler declared, “I’m not afraid of who I am …” his voice was deep and muffled behind the leather, “… This is me,” he proclaimed, his confession a stark contrast to the secretitive seducer that made up a personality he felt keen to hide two years ago.
Miller folded his arms and smiled in admiration, “You’re fully changed …” he placed his hand on Harry’s shoulder and began to escort him towards the hall’s entrance doors, “I’ve seen the transformation a dozen times before. Sometimes I get attached, other times I let them fly. Now, kid, it’s your time to take off …”
Miller held the doors open for Harry, the view on the other side being a long corridor towards his future, “… You’re so still. You’re keeping your desires neatly contained beneath the controlled vibration of your exterior, yet you’re so ready to let loose …” he chuckled, “… Tom especially is going to hate you …”
Harry’s grin was now veiled by the mask encasing his jaw, where he said a singular line of wording that, in Miller’s eyes, officially labelled him as something to fear.
“… I can’t wait to feel his dribble seep over my feet …”
With Miller now absent in attending to his dying master, Harry stood by himself, mere inches opposite the doorway to an allusive place he had only heard whispers about …
… The Room.
If he were wired differently, he might’ve stood here naked, manipulated and captured, as a contestant like the others held captive several floors above, about to take hold of the hand where he would open the door and step into a task only schemed to make him beg for mercy.
Instead, he opened the door as an inflictor of hysteria, as someone riddled with the desire to control, as a puppeteer of delirium …
He breathed in the scent of moist, ticklish flesh, the aroma infiltrating the behinds of his mask, his nostrils flaring, his eyes taking in the sight before him …
“Oh … ” he would never forget this moment, “… This will be fun …”
Harry’s tongue trailed over the tips of his teeth as he gradually approached the wide, floor to ceiling steel wall opposite him.
“What a view I have …” he purred at the three pairs of exposed bare feet locked within the wall, a hooded head twisting and turning above each foot.
“—Mmnphh! Mnn, mnnn, mnnphh!—” muffled and gagged moans heaved behind the cotton that made up each hood, “—Mnn, mnpph? Mnn! Mnn!—”, the left head writhing the most, the right head huffing the hardest, the middle head remaining surprisingly still and quiet…
Harry had no idea who he would find under the hood; all he knew was that the chosen contestants were exceptionally ticklish from the ankle down and that the area under exploration would be locked within a metal box and contained within a wall, with only their heads making an additional appearance - the rest of their nude shape sat with their hands cuffed behind their backs, their bodies individually squashed inside a cramped, steel prison until the game was over …
The only pair of feet Harry recognised were the pale, creamy smooth and silky white soles directly opposite him, poking out neatly from the middle of the wall - the iconic Spider-Man symbol tattooed on the right arch gave it all away too easily, but what informed Harry of their extreme level of sensitivity was how tightly each toe had curled into a protective clench …
“Oh, you know that you’re in trouble,” Harry murmured as he approached that specific pair of feet, “You know you can’t take this, even after everything you’ve been through …”
Harry lifted his right hand and hovered his index finger over the Spider-Man tattoo, “… I’ve wanked a thousand times at the thought of getting my hands, my mouth, my tongue on these feet, feet that are lusted after by millions, and now I have my chance,” even though the tip of his finger did not touch the sole, the foot still retracted as if it could sense electricity, all five toes scrunching with such might that the toe knuckles burned white, “… Rather stunnin’, actually, an unprecedented level of sensitivity that I cannot wait to abuse …”
Whereas other ticklers might spend some time teasing each individual whilst they were hooded, Harry decided to snatch the hood away from Tom’s head so that he could see the boil in his eyes whilst he unapologetically exploited each of Tom’s soles, in a far sooner ambush than anticipated.
Tom’s violated roars hurtled through the gag with such immediate and unpredicted strength that saliva bubbled around the edges of the plastic, Harry’s fingernails now drawing absurdly toying, faint circles around each of Tom’s arches unexpectedly, causing the whites in Tom’s eyes to practically glow, his unblinking scowl aimed directly at Harry’s expertly faint touch …
Tom’s feet stretched apart, they twisted around each other, they flexed towards the ceiling, they curled into themselves, they had nowhere to escape to, and Tom had no choice but to peer down at them as Harry’s fingernails infiltrated the pads of his toes by dancing up to their scrunched tips; within a matter of seconds, Harry had succeeded entirely in getting what he wanted: Tom’s dribble seeping from his jaw and dripping down over the leather of his loafers, where it stained his footwear with nothing but genuine hysteria …
Harry threw the hood out of the way and then stepped back, “Such an almighty reaction for such a barely-there touch!—”, he sucked the taste of Tom’s feet away from his fingertips as Tom’s head heaved and wheezed into the gag, his eyes now blinking away a sea of blur as his toes wiggled off an agonising tingle, “You’re still so out of this world ticklish, despite all of the experience you’ve had to get used to it all … Maybe you’re afraid of something? Maybe it’s me,” Harry analysed, his voice husky behind the mask around his jaw, "Or, maybe it’s an old friend …”
He then glanced up into the ceiling of The Room where a tiny compartment slid open and T.K’s robotic coil reintroduced itself, its metallic talon stretching open to greet Tom once again.
Bzzzt …
“… Hello again, Tom …”
Tom’s face boiled red as the veins at either side of his head thickened; his eyes watered as he bit down on the gag and roared for a second time, his cries muffled by plastic as his soft, size eleven soles scrunched and squirmed, totally unable to go anywhere besides facing the humidity of air beneath and around them.
“—Nuuuu! Pleeeee! Guh muff hmnn uhh fuggin uhha gee mnn mmnnphh uhh!—” Tom’s dribble continued to roll over his chin, “—Mnnnn, nn, nuu sttttuuuh, sssstuuuh, muhhh mnnn!—” he wanted to express what T.K had tried to do in his coil-like, claw form, how out of hand everything had become in that underground cell in the depths of London, “—Mnn ahh mnn, mnn? Huhhnn mnnn mpphhh!—” T.K was harmless as a black orb nailed to a wall, but this version? This was something else entirely …
Harry narrowed his eyes and ran a hand through Tom’s hair, “Sorry, lad, I have absolutely no idea what you’re wafflin’ on about …” he could not take his eyes off the anguished expression that made up Tom’s face, “But I am loving how terrified you sound …”
T.K curled down towards Tom’s soles and analysed their flawless, always squirming landscape, “I have obliterated these before. I have consumed the perfection of their shape, I have devoured each toe with my wiring, I have feasted on them with nothing but mechanical menace …”
Harry flapped his hand and nodded quickly, “Yes, yes, get on with it,” he hurried.
T.K’s talon stretched open into a star shape, revealing a tiny metal vibrating stick from its centre that protruded in a gentle buzz and whizz—, bzzzzzzzz! —the tip now aimed directly at Tom’s right arch …
“Back then, your masters had programmed me to be utterly obsessed with Mr. Holland and his entire body, from head to toe, and in some ways, I guess I still am …” the buzzing stick turned to face the other pairs of feet locked either side of Tom’s, “… But now, I have been re-programmed to be infatuated with all three of these young men, young men that we are lucky to have locked before us … What do you plan on doing to them, Mr. Styles?”
Harry pursed his lips behind his mask and then made his way to the next set of feet to the right of Tom, “Mr. Styles? Christ, babe, no need to be so formal, just call me Harry …” he ordered, snatching the hood away from the next contestant in one swift and effortless yank, “Oh, and I can call you Ross …”
Clumps of Ross’s blond hair landed over the top half of his face as he struggled to contain the size of the ball gag between his lips - compared to Tom, he was far sweatier with a forehead and cheeks shimmering in perspiration already - as well as handling the natural development of body heat that clearly boiled him second by second within the steel box he sat squashed in, he also had to handle the fact that Harry Fucking Styles, in a leather fucking muzzle, stood directly fucking opposite him with only one intention - to drive him wild by molesting the bottoms of his feet …
As he tried to express his astonishment and level of starstruck in the form of unmanageable muffles and staggered splutters, it became abundantly clear to him that this circumstance was absolutely unique, whole-heartedly bizarre and one hundred percent not something he thought he would be doing this time last year …
“The disbelief in your gaze is amusing, to say the least,” Harry bowed as if on stage, “Yes, it’s me, and yes, this is happening to you …”
Harry stepped closer to Ross’s feet and closed his eyes, breathing in their moist scent through his mask as his eyelashes struggled to remain shut, “… They’re naturally stinky, in a good way,” he admired, both hands now lifting and shaping into claws as he allowed his fingernails to arrive millimeters above the glossy, bulbous chunks that made up Ross’s heels, “Don’t worry, handsome, I’ve seen the videos online, of your friend toying with your feet whilst you sleep, the boys in charge have told me all about about your photoshoot, your unexpected introduction to this world, but let me tell you this, blondie …” he began to pet Ross’s heels tenderly as Ross’s manly grunts filled The Room, “… Nothing that you have endured will prepare you for this …”
T.K hovered in adulation as he took in his leaders techniques, whilst Tom turned his head to the left and watched with throbbing eyes as Harry scribbled his fingernails in a fast and playful pace across each of Ross’s heels, their speed so quick that Harry’s fingers practically blurred.
Ross’s head twirled in an uncontrollable and manic spin, his eyes squeezing tightly shut as his long toes determinedly pointed towards the floor and then stretched out into a wide and panicked flex, both of his feet trying their best to twist over each other and protect each heel, all whilst heaves of laughter and grainy shouts pummelled the gag forced within the depths of Ross’s mouth …
“—MNNNPH! MNN MNN MNN MUUH MNN, MNNPH! MNNN, MUUHH, MNN, MNNPH!—”, Ross’s cheeks ballooned with air, his nostrils grew twice the size, he grunted and groaned as if having his heels touched like this was simply unbearable - he looked ready to explode, about to pop, his feet now creating a fierce X shape around Harry’s infliction, but Harry had one other person to introduce before he really wanted to get into the swing of things …
Ross still giggled in astonishment as Harry tiptoed his way to the other end of the wall, his dedicated focus taking in how tightly Tom’s soles scrunched into each other as he passed them by.
“T.K, be a love and remove Peter Parker and Blondie Boy’s gags for me, will you?” He grabbed hold of the final hood and yanked it away from the last remaining head, revealing— “—Ahh, Kit Connor, the one all the masked bad boys have been talking about …” he removed Kit’s ball gag for him.
Kit’s big hazel eyes blinked in awe and then glanced directly at Harry as his pretty mouth stretched into a wide and delighted grin, “—Harry! It’s so nice to meet you, wow!—”, he had sat here listening to the screams, the howls of laughter, Harry’s taunts and T.K’s admiration, but it did not stop him from just appearing as a simple fan, “—I, I love your music, I ha, have all of your albums, this is huge for me!”
Tom and Ross were finally able to stretch their jaws as soon as T.K plucked the ball gags from their mouths; his talon whizzed apart and dropped both gags to the floor, where Kit’s landed on top of them in a wet pile.
Harry could have entertained the gushing, he could have fulfilled his own sense of career satisfaction by asking Kit what his favourite song was off of what favourite album, but instead he chose to show Kit who he had become; he was no longer the stadium touring pop star, no longer the number one artist, no longer the Cheshire-born lad who auditioned for The X Factor; he was unrestrained, relentless and he only wanted one thing; to watch Kit hyperventilate under the plain act of his havoc.
“Now, when I say I am fucking hard at just knowing what I’m going to do to these, believe me, it’s an understatement,” Harry beamed, his head facing Kit’s soles, his orders directed at T.K, “I think a feather will do nicely, don’t you think?
T.K’s talon dropped into a nod, “… A fantastic idea, Harry …” where he whizzed back up to his ceiling compartment and disappeared for only a few seconds as Kit, Tom and Ross all peered upward, “… One of our finest tools, for one of our finest ticklers …” T.K returned with a feather, “… Freshly plucked from one of the pigeons in the courtyard yesterday, Harry …”
Harry took hold of the feather and grimaced at it, “Ew,” before shrugging off where it had come from, where he then held the feather like a pen and aimed the sharpness of the feather’s quill towards Kit’s soles.
Kit’s eyes almost popped out of his head as his big, meaty feet squirmed from side to side, “Seriously? No, not the sharp end, please!—”, he became frantic, a frenzied worry causing his teeth to nip over his bottom lip as Harry journeyed the quills point towards the bottom of Kit’s right foot, “Mnn, okay, so, I need to get out of this! I, I can’t get out of this,” he twisted his head towards Tom, “Get me out of this!—” he tried to pull his feet through the wall, he tried to shuffle them out of the way, his toes either curling up or stretching apart, Harry and his feather now getting closer and closer, inch by inch, second by second …
Ross stretched his face towards Tom also, as if Tom was the only one who could help in some way, “This is fucked up, man!—” he admitted, his face coated in stupor, “—I gotta get out, I’m screwed!—” he wriggled within his box, only his panicked expression and twisting feet visible to Tom.
Tom clenched his teeth and chose to give Ross and Kit’s concerns a reality check, the pigeon feather finally landing over Kit’s feet working as the perfect distraction, “You’re not going anywhere, lads, just breathe, alright? Just breathe!—”
As soon as the quill made impact with Kit’s right sole, Kit began to giggle with a breathless and sturdy expel that may have suggested this could be something he might be able to handle, “—Nnn, no, oh, oh!—”, but as soon as Harry applied additional pressure, those flustered giggles transformed into panicked shouts, Kit’s grin now exploding into a wide-spread and twisted sneer, “—O, okay! Mnn, mnn, ooh, god! Tha, that, that’s sharp!—”, his face was pale just a second or two ago, now it glowed pink, his cheeks shimmering, his feet doing all they could to avoid the quill as Harry illustrated out a letter in a long, agonising and drawn out draw …
“—They tell me you’re in this for a laugh, Connor,” Harry teased as he repeated the letters shape, “How about you tell me something else … What letter am I drawing?” The quill dragged downward and then lifted back up, where it slid across Kit’s sole at a ninety degree angle …
Kit’s raving stare burned into the feather as he watched the tops of his feet thrash and twist, “—K!—”, he tried to use his right foot to smack the feather away, “—Mnn, god, alright, so, so, that’s awful! Ha, ha, how is this, grr—”, he tore his face away from the sight of the feather and turned to Tom once again, “—How is this happening!—”
Wherever the quill went, it left a white line as its trail across Kit’s sole, which would fade away almost as soon as it appeared, the letter ‘I’ now being written out in the form of a scribbled drag from the base of Kit’s toes all the way down to his heel, “And what about this letter?” Harry smirked, “What is it? Say it so we can all hear …”
Kit could barely catch his breath, his eyebrows raised so high that his forehead crumpled, “—I, I, I—!”, he whined, “—I can’t, ah sss, stoppit, stop, stoppit, stop, stop, stop, stop!—”
Harry’s tongue poked out of the corner of his lips as he concentrated on writing out Kit’s name, “Quite the begger!—”, the quill now shaping out the third and final letter, the letter ‘T’, which worked as a fabulous shape to illustrate over such a wide and large sole, “—And this one?” Kit’s right foot kept trying to curl, to press, to catch the feather, but it failed time and time again …
“—T, T, T, T, T! Ahh, oh, oh please, let me out, let me out!—”, Kit gasped as Harry’s free hand began to explore his left foot by scritching and scratching into the middle of his sole, “—Gahahaha! Ahahah! No, stop, stop, stop, stop, stop! Ahahahaha!—”, deepening the pink of Kit’s face into a furious red as he began to seeth and cackle, his non stop and weighty bellow of laughter causing him to heave and wheeze as both Tom and Ross looked on in awe, “—Ahaha, ahaham I, I meant to jus, just top breathing! Is, is that, like, okay!—” Kit babbled, both of his feet now twisting away from Harry’s fingernails and the feathers quill, his eyes brimming with tears as T.K hovered between Kit and Tom and enthusiastically observed …
Harry stepped back and watched Kit’s feet flop into a tired drop, his head finally remaining still as his big neck struggled to gain any comfort within the circular steel hoop it poked out from.
“Well, if you’re breathless from that, then I think you’ve got quite a bit to worry about, wouldn’t you agree, T.K?” Harry tucked the feather behind his ear as he stood in front of the middle of the wall and folded his arms, T.K’s mechanical coil and steel talon curling around his shoulders.
“I concur, Harry,” T.K rested his talon beside Harry’s neck, “These little piggies are about to lose more than just their breath!”
Harry chuckled, “Little piggies, I like that …” he walked back to Tom’s soles, “… My three little piggies, all trapped with their big, ticklish feet on show … Oink oink!”
Harry swiped his index finger up the bottom of Tom’s right foot, causing Tom to violently jolt within his box and shout out a furious, “—OI!—”
Harry then returned to T.K, who he petted as if T.K were a mechanical snake, “… I think it’s time we explained how to win Game Four, don’t you, T.K?”
T.K tilted his steel talon and gazed adoringly at his temporary partner.
“I think that’s a wonderful idea, Harry …”
“You all look like bright boys, so let’s hope you can keep up …” Harry announced.
“… All three of you have just been generously given two hundred thousand points … That’s right, your names have pipped up The Leaderboard,” Harry smiled the sort of smile that made all of his fans fall in love with him, “See, I’m not such a bad guy, am I?”
Ross gawped in surprise - he had already won something without even trying!
Tom remained still, cautious, eyebrows burrowed - surely it wouldn’t be that easy …
Only yesterday, Kit had earned one hundred thousand points without doing anything, as if they had been gifted to him - to have an extra two hundred meant that he had, “… Three hundred thousand points …” he whispered to himself, “… I’m two hundred thousand away from winning …”
“Now,” Harry cleared his throat, “Onto the juicy stuff: all three of you will need to face a challenge …” he paced from left to right, T.K following him in a hover above …
“… If you succeed in winning your challenge, you keep your points,” Harry explained, “If you can’t take the torment, you just have to shout out the word ‘oink’ and transfer the torment to one other contestant within the wall, which will also lose you fifty thousand points …”
Tom, Kit and Ross listened intently, their eyes blinking quickly, their feet all facing Harry; Ross licked his lips in anticipation, Kit wriggled to gain comfort within his box, all ten of Tom’s toes remained determinedly clenched …
“… The winner of the game is the person who has the most points left …” he paused in front of Ross’s soles and placed his pinkie finger against Ross’s left big toe, “… The winner also gets to remove another contestants points entirely, be it from someone inside the wall or from one of the group upstairs …”
Ross huffed as he pulled his feet back, Harry’s pinkie finger following, “—Ooft, that’s mean, man …”
Harry lifted his shoulders into a careless shrug as he moved back to the middle of the wall and faced his ‘three little piggies’ …
“You know what, Ross, it is mean,” Harry agreed, “None of this is nice, is it? I’d be losing my marbles if I were locked in that wall,” he stroked his muzzle, “Now, before I go on, I’m going to ask my little piggies to do something, alright?”
Tom, Kit and Ross all nodded quickly.
Harry folded his arms, “I’m going to ask each of you, one by one, who you think should endure my touch first, and the reasons why, understood?”
Tom, Kit and Ross all nodded quickly, this time faster, harder …
Harry approached Kit, his left hand raising slowly as his fingertips playfully stroked the young actors large, meaty soles.
“Mr. Connor, care to do the honours?”
If Kit’s feet could fold into themselves, they would be doing so right now.
“I’m … I’m going for …” he sighed and looked to his left, “… Tom … Be, because he’s the most ticklish out of all of us. He’s likely to lose the quickest …”
“An excellent choice, Ticklee 004 …” T.K’s steel coils vibrated in excitement.
Harry pinched the ends of Kit’s left row of toes one by one, “… Even though he’s been through the most, out of you and Ross? He’s been explored, devoured, tested on … He even hired a team and went running away for a year, just to get away from it all. He’s got quite a hefty résumé …”
Kit’s toes curled into a clench as his weighty shape shuffled on the opposite side of the wall.
“I, I don’t know much about all that,” Kit eyed T.K and his metallic exterior, the cold stare of his talon, the threatening pose of his silent dangle, “All I do know is that he’s terrified of that thing …”
T.K’s talon tilted, “… Terrified? But we had so much fun, before …” he sounded insulted, his claw turning to face Tom, “… Didn’t we, Tom?”
Tom lowered his head, his cheeks burning as he eyed the concrete below him, only one thought landing in his mind as he attempted to avoid the monstrous machine: he calls me Tom, not by my contestant number …
“Ah, The Object …” Harry took careful steps towards Tom’s feet and grazed his thumb over the softness of Tom’s Spider-Man tattoo, the touch hardly there, the reaction splendid, “… Who do you pick?” Already, Tom was ready to burst.
“—-Kit—”, Tom’s response was immediate, a no brainer, “—Because he’s new to this—”, that was all he could say, his bulging eyes and tightly clenched toes doing their best to refrain from verbalising the thought in his head, stop touching me!
Harry drew dainty circles around Tom’s left heel, “Not because he just picked you? I’ve heard you boys are fiesty …”a heel that was so soft it may as well have been made of marshmallow …
Tom breathed inward, as if taking all the oxygen in The Room with him, his giggle coarse, controlled, but above all else, contained, “—He likes this bollocks. If anything, this’ll be a treat …” he managed to mutter.
Kit’s expression became creased with uncertainty; the extremity of his circumstance, within this steel wall, eyed perversely by a snake-like machine and manhandled by a celebrity he had no idea was consumed by this world - it was all a far reach from leather tickle chairs and velcro cuffs …
Harry forced himself away from Tom and arrived in front of Ross, “And you, blondie bear?”
Ross wanted to see Tom endure whatever Harry and that weird machine had up their sleeve, he thought the sight would be entertaining, the sound satisfying, but most importantly of all he thought it would be a worthy introduction to the magnitude of madness soon to arrive his way …
But when thinking logistically, about strengths, weaknesses, points and overall success, Ross had no choice but to go with, “—I choose Kit …”
Kit’s mouth fell open as his head twisted from side to side, Tom’s head dropping in ease as Harry rested his pinkie finger on Ross’s left arch.
“—-And why?” Harry purred.
Ross automatically tried to squeeze his feet through the wall, yet they remained fixed and exposed, Harry’s pinkie finger refusing to depart.
“Because, just look at him!—” Ross gasped, “—He’s freakin’ adorable! You gotta wreck him, man,” Ross chortled, “I wanna win this thing, fuck—” he stretched his head forwards and tried to bite at Harry’s pinkie, his teeth snapping in the air.
The Harry of 2023 would have yanked his hand back, protecting his pinkie finger - the Harry of today persisted, ignoring Ross’s attempt at biting him, his pinkie finger travelling up to toes already flexing in panic.
“They’re turned against you, Mr. Connor, the results speak for themselves … We’ll be starting with you …” Harry grinned at Ross, who had already developed a shine of sweat around his face, his pinkie finger leaving Ross’s toes toyingly, “… I won’t lie, I’m surprised, I thought Tom would fall under the spotlight, but you lot are clever than you look …”
Kit clenched his teeth and swore under his breath, “—Shit—, his left foot covering his right, his right foot then covering his left; he seemed nervous, bewildered, unprepared, his squirming soles always curling around each other …
“You’ll no doubt want to join me on this,” Harry peered up at T.K, “Won’t you, love?”
T.K’s metallic coil shuddered as his talon flexed open and faced the hypersensitive landscape that made up Kit’s soles, “Oh, Harry, it would be my absolute pleasure …”
Kit pressed his lips together and faced forwards, his nostrils opening into a wide flare as he focused on keeping his cool, on making it towards the end of this as a winner; so far, he had only experienced Miller as his tickler, during his ‘first time’ in Paris, which he thought would be easy, and then there was a brief meeting with Hypno, to test his sensitivity, to see if he were ‘up’ for The Games …
The latter experience proved him wrong; he left that bedroom saturated in sweat, with gained knowledge that he was far more ticklish than he expected, his feet tingling, his stomach tight, his armpits sore, his throat and mouth the driest they had ever felt … And now he had to cope with this?
“You see, Kit, I know the real reason they chose you … ” Harry picked the pigeon feather out from behind his ear and began to stroke it over the knuckles of Kit’s clenched toes, in an attempt to open them up, “… Tom wanted the focus off him, and Ross is a fraidy cat … You, my dear boy, are simply a scapegoat …”
Kit’s toes remained scrunched, yet both of his feet automatically twisted across one another as the feathers flutter continued, “—Please, please stop—”, Kit huffed, “—That’s all I’m going to do, you know, I’ll just beg, I have no shame!—”, it sounded like it took all of the energy Kit had within his lungs to say that simple statement, “—Please, please,—”, his eyes crossed in the middle as Harry began to comb the feather around the structure of his left little toe, whilst T.K began to squirt thick lashings of lotion over Kit’s feet, the gushes of oil shooting from the inside of his talon, Tom and Ross remaining unsurprisingly quiet …
“Let’s get them all lubed up, shall we, Harry?” T.K persisted in pumping enough lotion over Kit’s soles so that the shimmering ooze would decorate his feet from toe to heel, “This will help elevate these highly reactive tootsies to stratospheric levels of sensitivity …”
Kit’s feet scrunched inward at the impact of unwanted wet, cold splatters, “—Oh for gods sake! You know they’re already quite ticklish, this uh, feels a little unnecessary …—”
“Unnecessary? You’re locked in a steel wall, you bloody idiot!” Harry shaped his mouth into an O as he watched the oil coat Kit’s soles, their already silky landscape now far silkier, their shine and glimmer practically glowing under The Room’s lighting, “Your body is squashed inside a box, your hands are cuffed behind your back, your head, your feet, they’re all mine! …” T.K stopped squirting lotion once both of Kit’s soles were drenched and then whizzed back into his ceiling compartment, “… I think we moved away from unnecessary as soon as you met an animatronic arm designed and built for tickle torment … ” Harry smiled in satisfaction when he saw T.K return to Kit’s feet, clutching hold of a long length of string and a hairbrush, “… Now, I can see that your anxious, and you should be, I’m about to tie your big toes together, which means these wriggling feet of yours are going to be forced still …”
Kit rattled in his metal box as Harry’s chosen tools were revealed, “There’s really no need!” Even at his most afraid Kit remained unapologetically polite, “Don’t do that, please, don’t do that …”
T.K handed the hairbrush and string to Harry, “I’ll focus on one foot whilst you focus on the other?” T.K’s talon stretched open and a vibrating, long, whizzing metal pincer extended from its middle, just like it had done some moments before …
Bzzzz …
Kit’s eyes narrowed at the pincer, “—Do, do Tom! You like Tom, you, you’ve got history! You like his feet more than mine, how about you—”
“—Oi!—” Tom shot a furious look at Kit.
T.K quickly aimed the pincer at Tom’s feet, Kit’s words doing a good job at perplexing his programming.
“… I do really, really like Tom’s feet …”
Harry faced Kit’s soles and sneered, “Ahh, his true colours are coming out now, Tom, tryin’ to throw his chum under the bus? …” in one hand he held the hairbrush, in the other hand he held the string, “… Let’s shift our attention back to the task at hand hmm, T.K?”
T.K’s talon whizzed around to face Kit once again, “Yes, sorry, Harry, I am focused, and I am ready …”
Harry gave T.K the thumbs up without looking at T.K, his green eyes remained entirely on Kit, “Good to know. Now, your challenge, Kit Connor, is to keep the string between your teeth, and don’t let it go—”
Kit watched Harry take a step towards his big toes, “—But, I, I can say oink when I want, right? And one of the others has to deal with it, right?—” he gestured to Tom and Ross as he huffed inwards, Harry now beginning to tie the string around both of his big toes, “Why do you keep ignoring me?” Kit showcased his first example of impatience, “—I’m talking to you!—”, he unintentionally presented all of his teeth, his eyebrows scrunching into a flat frown as the string looped and twisted, looped and twisted, looped and twisted around both of his large, chunky big toes, his feet now expertly fastened together, side by side, “—Oh my god, they ssss, stuck together!—”, Harry tied the string in a knot, allowing a long length to dangle over Kit’s soles, his index finger pressing against Kit’s right arch to test the knots strength, “—You’re going to have to untie them, Harry—” Kit’s tone became serious, “—There’s no way I’m doing this—”, he watched Harry pinch the end of the string and lift it towards his lips …
“—Oh, but you are doing this. You’re doing it right now. Kit Connor, boyish and handsome, a ticklers dream, craved by millions across the world, and look at what I have … You’re here, inches away from me and, like the title of the video I’ve wanked to over and over again, it’s all so ‘easy’ …” Harry’s tone was cutting, “… Now, be a good boy, stop speaking and open the fuck up …” he snarled.
As Tom and Ross watched on in perplexed awe, Kit felt a strange pang in his chest at the thought of Harry masturbating to the footage of him being tickled, so much so that it rendered him speechless and all too suddenly now dealing with something that he didn’t expect to feel like a compliment, as well as the onslaught of nerves that orbited his astonishment …
The emotions and thoughts bombarded Kit’s mind with such solid manpower that Kit had to remind himself to not let them overwhelm him - Harry had clearly succeeded in throwing his focus off, a focus he struggled to realign as he reluctantly opened his mouth and allowed Harry to place the string between his teeth …
Kit bit down on the string, its taunt length caught between his clenched teeth and the tight loops around his big toes, his bare, lubed up, ticklish soles now fixed side by side as T.K’s sharp pincer persisted in its whizz above his feet - Harry eyed the flat plastic back of the hairbrush and offered Kit a whispered reminder …
“All you have to do is say ‘oink’, then shout out who else you want us to mess about with, and we’ll stop, it’s as easy as that …” he gently spanked Kit’s soles with the back of the hairbrush …
Kit groaned behind clenched teeth, “—Grr!—”
“… And the wonderful thing is, my little piggie, there is no time frame, I’m really here to just have fun …” he spanked Kit’s soles with the brush once again, this time harder.
Kit winced, his lips lifting into a growl as the string just about remained between his teeth, “—Ow!—” he raised both eyebrows at Harry.
Harry giggled to himself and spanked the hairbrush against Kit’s soles a third time, in a swifter thwack — thwack!
Kit hissed, “—OW!—” his feet trembling …
Harry spanked Kit’s soles a fourth time and then a fifth … - thwack! thwack! …
Kit almost leapt out of his box, his teeth clamping tighter across the thin length of string as his eyes shimmered with resentment, the veins at the side of his head throbbing as he lost the ability to use words to express his hatred at both of his feet being spanked.
“Nod if you can feel that tingle, Kit …” Harry readied himself, “… Is it there? Come on, answer me, or a I keep on spanking …”
Kit gulped as he nodded sheepishly, the tingle from the spanking dancing across both soles.
Harry spun the brush around so that the many plastic bristles faced the bottoms of Kit’s tingling feet, “Don’t get too comfortable, boys,” he addressed both Tom and Ross at the same time, “Something tells me it’ll be your turn next quicker than you think …”
Kit’s eyes ballooned into a dumbfounded scowl as his teeth chewed down hard over the length of string, T.K’s whizzing pincer and Harry’s hairbrush faintly arriving over both of his shimmering, oiled up soles, the pincer pressing down faintly over the pad of his left big toe, the hairbrush faintly gliding across the chunk of his left heel …
Kit’s frantic, high speed giggles were immediate, his need to automatically squeal the word ‘stop’ an unconsidered thought, the string around both of his toes tightening as he pulled his head back and glared into the ceiling, “—Grrrr! Grhrhrhrhrhrhrhrrr! Stttt, ssssst, sssst!—”
His eyes became submerged in glistening layers of stupor, his trapped feet wanted to point forwards, to thrash, to twist, but such a movement risked yanking the string from his mouth, so he had no choice but to reluctantly try to keep them still as the pincer whizzed around the tightly scrunched, ultra soft pads of his toes whilst Harry journeyed the brush in a barely-there rub against the arch of his left foot …
“—Sssst, sssssst, grrrahahahahahahahahaaraaaaahahahha, ssssst! Sssst! Mnn, mnn, mnnnahahahahahannh!—”
“My pincer is barely making impact, Harry,” T.K informed, “If you look into his eyes, you can see that he is slowly being driven mad as the seconds go by,” the world’s first A.I tickler seemed amazed, “Do you realise how lucky we are to witness something like this? …”
Harry watched the hairbrush’s bristles glide across Kit’s flawlessly perfect heel, their sharp ends dragging over pillowey pale flesh that Kit wished he could conceal, “You’re soppy for a robot, aren’t you, love?” Harry quipped.
Kit’s growled hysterics thundered throughout The Room as Ross and Tom witnessed Harry and T.K barely increase the pressure of intensity against the bottoms of Kit’s feet, but it was enough to transform the Heartstopper actor into a breathless, wheezing, beetroot faced, always screaming contestant within a wall now barely able to contain him; his head twirled like he was a malfunctioning toy, his toes wiggled like fingers, his big toes pinned together by the same string held between his teeth - every ounce of his release was contained, controlled, considered - sure, he could drop the string, scream out his laughter, beg endlessly like he had done in Paris, or he could allow the dribble to seep, the tears to flow and the veins to pump that chaos into his face till he got through this, till he won his challenge, whenever that may be …
“—Sssst, sssssst, grrrahahahahahahahahaaraaaaahahahha, ooohh mmmmy guuuuuuhhhh! Ssssst! Sssst! Mnn, mnn, mnnnahahahahahannh!—”
Ross peered towards Tom with a sparkling sheen of worry saturating his face, “Fuck, man, I think he’s gonna pop …”
Kit never blinked, his round, open eyes never stopped taking in the sight of the pincer and the brush as they buzz, buzz, buzzed and scrub, scrub, scrubbed against his soles, the volume of his restrained lunacy increasing, “—Grrr! Grrrrr! GRRR, GRRAAAH! GRAHAHAHA! GRAHAHAHAH! GRAHAHAHAH! SSST, SSSST, SSSSSTT, SSSST, SSSSSST!—”
He tugged at the string as if it were a long line of fat caught on a steak, his head struggling with the idea of keeping still, his big toes always held tighter together with every determined yank, his glossy soles always pinned side by side, always under attack by two tools barely grazing the delicate landscape on offer …
Kit seemed determined, like he almost had to succeed, to get through this, but ultimately the logistical and physical reality that was quite simply his unrelenting level of sensitivity became the forefront leader in Kit’s outcome, leading him towards a dire finish that he wished would not take place in the way it would …
The word ‘oink’ arrived in Kit’s mind, then at the back of his throat, then at the ends of his lips, but before he could stretch his mouth open, drop the string and scream out his safeword, Kit decided to clench the string tighter between his teeth and cackle the hardest he had ever cackled, as a way to push through the tickle torment with the most intent mindset he had yet to behold …
“—GRRAHHH GRAAAHH GRAAAAH! GRAAAHAHAHAHAH! GRAAAHAHAHAH! GRAAAAHAHAHAHA!—”
T.K drew love hearts around Kit’s arch, just like he had done to Tom in the underground London cell, the vibrating pincer dragging across the dough-like landscape that made up Kit’s right sole whilst Harry watched Kit lean into the horror - he saw him dribble like a man man, howl out his laughter in a breathless and constant shout, his uncontrollable and explosive chortles all caught between teeth holding a string neatly in place, his big toes almost up by his chin as the bottoms of his feet were buzzed and scrubbed over, the growls and shrieks now causing Harry’s ears to ring …
“Blimey!—” Harry had to duck, “—You really are struggling, aren’t you, beefcake?—” he declared excitedly.
“—GRRRRRRRRAAAAAH AHAHAHAHAHAHA GRRRAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA GRRRR, GRRRR, RAAAAAAGHHAHAHAHAHAHAH!—”
Kit practically roared, his lips sneering like a blood-thirsty hyena as his eyes boiled with desperation, his pupils darting up, down, left, right, the pincer whizzing in a speezy zig zag across the length of his right sole whilst Harry scrubbed the brush in a fast paced motion around the arch of his left foot - tears rolled down his cheeks, he seemed to be hyperventilating, all of his toes minus his big ones curling and flexing as his feet rubbed together and his head shifted downward, his teeth struggling to keep the string in place …
As soon as Harry introduced his free hand, Kit’s inch towards the end of his challenge began to nudge closer to a big finish - all Harry had to do was start to lightly scribble his index finger around the chunky shape of Kit’s left little toe, and the keen show of strength crumbled on the spot …
“—OINK, OINK, OINK!—” Kit’s mouth widened into a stretched apart grin, his angular jaw falling open as he freely gushed out his laughter, the string falling across his soles as T.K persisted in whizzing the pincer over the delicacy of his right arch whilst Harry continued to scrub the hairbrush across the softness of his left heel, his other hand now exploring a weak spot by barely scratching the fingernail of his index finger over the tip of Kit’s littlest toes, as if he were obliterating an itch, “—OI, OINK, OI, OINK, OI, I sssaid oink, I said oink! I’m oinking you bloody wanker!—” Kit almost launched through the wall as soon as Harry began to scrub the brush over the pad of his right little toe, his weakness now fully revealed, “—OYAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! OYAAAAHAHAHAHAHAH! OYAAAAHAHAHAHA! OINK, OINK! NOAAAHAHAHAHAH STTOAAAHAHAHAHAHAP STTTOOAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHP!—”
Kit’s neck, thick and vibrating with madness, stretched out of the metal loop it was contained within as he watched T.K and Harry maintain an extreme lack of mercy, their tools still dedicated to tickling the bottoms of his always writhing feet, his big toes now ripping free from the tight fix of the string and therefore doing all they could to escape the torment, “—I, I SAID OINK, OI, OIAAAHAHAHAHA! OI! OI! I, I SSSAAAHHH OI! I SAID OINKAHAHAHAHAHA, OINKAHAHAHAHAHA, AHAAAAHAHAHAHAH! I, I, SSSSS, SSSSAAAAHHHH, STOAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAP! STTTTOAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP! STTTTOAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!—”
Harry scrubbed the brush a little harder, this time up and down instead of left to right, across the slippery chunk of Kit’s little toe, “—Who do you want to transfer the torment to, Kit?” Harry asked, his own lips seething with passionate dribble, “Bare in mind, making a choice will confirm that you’ve just lost fifty thousand points …”
Kit hurtled his head towards his left side, “—ROSS, I CHOOSE ROSS!—”, his big toes tore free from the string, allowing his feet to twist, flex and try to block the attacks, his high pitched giggles turning into intent grunts and huffs, Harry’s hairbrush refusing to leave Kit’s little toe alone, “—BLOODY STOP, I SAID OINK, WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT!—”
Harry pulled the hairbrush away as T.K lifted the whizzing pincer off of Kit’s foot, allowing Kit’s loud, erratic shouts to suddenly stop, The Room now falling exceptionally quiet …
“And there it is, ‘what more do you want’, the perfect example of complete submission,” Harry twirled the hairbrush in his hand like it was a pistol, “He would’ve said anything, done anything, given me anything, all for me to do one thing: to stop …”
The pincer whizzed back into T.K’s talon as T.K bowed his claw at Harry.
“You are gifted, Harry, there is no doubt about that …”
Harry stroked his fingertips around T.K’s coil as he turned the hairbrush around once more, so that the flat, plastic of its back faced Kit soles again.
“—I th, thought I could, could do it, jesus christ—”, Kit wheezed, his lips pressing shut as he watched Harry spank the bottoms of his feet once more, — thwack! —, “—Ah, stop it!—”, his toes clenched, his feet shaped into an X, only for Harry to smack them for what would now be a seventh time, — thwack! — , “Oink, alright! Oink! Oink!—”
Harry smirked and stepped back, allowing Kit a chance to compartmentalise his thoughts.
Kit glared at the hairbrush, he glared at Harry, he glared at T.K, he even glared at his feet as a throb buzzed over his soles - he began to realise he might not be built for this, he may never win a game - his cheeks were stained with streams of exhaustion as a frightful future began to materialise, whilst Harry and T.K made their way towards Ross, “… I’m, I’m ssss, sorry, Ross,” Kit turned towards his fellow contestant and attempted a smile, “I tr, tried my hardest I, I really did, it’s just …”
Kit’s dire loss showcased itself by the way that he matter of factly stated the obvious, the verbalised reason for being here - he plainly admitted defeat by babbling out something everyone in The Room already knew, something they all had in common …
“… My, my feet are just too ticklish …”
Ross began an escape attempt out of his steel encasing …
He tugged at the cuffs connecting his wrists at the bottom of his spine, he kicked into the hoop locked around his ankles, his tried to pull his head inward and then outward …
“Nn, mm, you pussy!—”, Ross shot a furious scowl at Kit, “—You lasted, like, a few minutes, you ass!—”
Harry smirked as a second compartment opened within the ceiling, another of T.K’s coils whizzing out into The Room where it then hovered over Harry’s left shoulder - within it’s metal talon it held onto a fully charged electric toothbrush …
“The vexation within your voice is quite sexy, Lynch. And your transformation?” Harry kissed his fingertips, “Chef’s kiss!” He observed, two of T.K’s coils now forming a team at either of his side, “Y’see, I watched you on CCTV as you picked that diamond piggy from under your pillow. I could’ve sworn you said the word ‘finally’ …” Harry took the electric toothbrush from T.K’s second talon and landed his thumb over the ‘on’ button …
Btzzzzzzzz …
Ross became flustered with shame and confusion, his previous need to play, to win, to get a chance at gaining what he wanted now seemingly shelved and replaced by the all too sudden reality of what he and his locked, exposed and highly sensitive feet were about to endure.
Suddenly, the lights in The Room went out and everything went dark besides Ross - his head, his feet, the steel box around him - a faint spotlight now unapologetically illuminated his predicament …
“C, come on, man …” Ross chuckled nervously, “… We really gotta turn out the lights?…” his feet spread apart, “… I’ve, I’ve never done anything as wild as this before, I’m, I’m new to this shit!—”, as soon as he realised his soles felt more exposed in the stretched apart flex, he twisted them inwards and tried to use his toes to conceal his extreme levels of ticklishness, “—I’m uh, I’m okay to just go, like, lemme out in the woods and I’ll uh, I’ll make my own way to an airport, or something …”
The quiet response told Ross that he wasn’t being listened to, causing him to dial up the hesitance, “Okay, I’ll scream so loud, man! Huh, you want that? Someone outside they, they’re gonna hear me, I swear to god they …” he grunted as he watched Harry, his electric toothbrush and two of T.K’s talons slowly approach his feet, “… They have to hear me …” he whined.
“You’re hundreds of metres underground, love. This cult, they have everyone under their thumb,” Harry whispered, “The Swedish Police, The Swedish Government, even the trees outside, the dirt they sprouted from, the insects that live on each leaf, it all belongs to us …”
Harry was now so close to Ross’s soles that the tip of his muzzled nose rubbed against his right heel, “Scream all you like. Give me all the ‘go slow, alright?’ and the ‘oooh, take it easy!’ as much as you want! I’ve heard it all before …—”
T.K’s left claw arrived next to Ross’s head, where a pristinely clean and perfectly sharp yet soft feather extended from inside his talon, “His session during his photoshoot last year was introductory, compared to what he’ll face today and no doubt for the rest of his stay here in Sweden …” the feather whizzed and fluttered towards Ross’s lips, causing him to flinch, “… He’s so pretty, Harry, can we prove to him just how out of depth he is by tickling his adorable face?”
Harry scoffed, “I think he’s already aware he’s out of his depth, T.K, however before you start, let me reveal his challenge …” he sniffed in the scent of Ross’s feet through the leather of his muzzle, “… Ross, my dear, it’s really quite an easy one: you’re not allowed to laugh …”
Kit and Tom’s mouths fell to the floor as they heard Harry’s rule to Ross, “… That’s impossible!—” they both expressed their shock by saying the same thing at the same time.
Ross’s head stretched away from the feather as it began to twirl against his jaw, his cheek, his mouth, the tip spinning now against his chin, “Oh fuck you! There’s no fucking way, man!—”, he already went to giggle, yet he had no choice but to press his lips shut, T.K’s second coil and talon arriving at the other side of his head, another feather extending from its claw where it began to spin towards the other side of his face, “—Can’t you make me do something that’s, like, actually achievable?—”, Ross’s tone was saturated in disbelief, his face now tickled by two feathers on each side, “—Can’t I like, chuckle or like, shout n’ stuff?—”
Harry spoke in a false American accent, doing his best to sound like a female cheerleader, “— Like, totally a big no to chuckling, like, a big yes to shouting, and, like, listen, if there really is no way you can handle this, just, like, say ‘oink’ and lose, like, fifty thousand bucks …”
Harry had to taste Ross’s feet, their shape, size and aroma was too beautiful to decline, his accent slipping back to natural british, “Announce who you want to transfer the torment to, it really isn’t rocket science, Ross,” he unclipped his mask and removed it from around his jaw, dropping it to his feet whilst revealing his own mouth, “I’m feeling a little peckish. I’ll let you make your mind up whilst I have my lunch …”
Ross’s loathing was snatched from his throat in an instant as soon as Harry began to graze the sharpness of his teeth against his right heel, “—Wait, can we do a practise round? Hey, sst, stop! What are you doing!—”, he could only face the terror head on as his right sole was devoured by Harry as if it were a chunk of meat, “—Ow, oh fuck! Ow, man, stop!—”, Ross turned aggressive, his eyebrows burrowing into a stern line as his eyes widened and his head snapped from side to side, the feathers from T.K’s talon fluttering into his right ear and then his left, “—No, that hurts! Hey, stop biting!—”, Harry chewed on Ross’s pinkie toe and then his second to last, he sucked on his middle and then nibbled on his index, “—Agh, Jesus! Fuck, quit it!—”, Ross didn’t know where to fling his head, his eyes either squeezing shut or widening in shock, the feathers now stroking his cheeks and mouth which caused him to spit and splutter, “—Pfft, pfft, quit it, please!—”, he was assaulted with a complex array of physical dealties, ranging from the sting over each part of his right foot as Harry nipped on his curling row of toes with his gnashers, to the intense itchy-tickle caused by the feathers that refused to leave his face alone, “—Ow, ow! No biting my damn toes, fuck!—” he winced, “—Hey! This isn’t tickling, man!—”
Harry made love to Ross’s right foot by kissing at the sides of its tanned shape and licking the curves that made up his arch whilst whispering into its now saliva coated landscape, “Anything but biting will swap your snarls for giggles, your winces for gasps, your cussing for cackles, are you sure you want that, Ross?”
Harry then moved the electric toothbrush in his free hand towards Ross’s left foot, where the vibrating, whizzing bristles landed delicately against his left sole in an almost polite and tender press.
The blend of ticklish terror and irritating agony, caused by feathers, teeth and now an electric toothbrush, produced an assorted mixture of reactions from Ross as a darkened Tom and Kit continued to watch on in astonishment, “Oh, shit, h, h, hold up!—” he looked thrilled, ecstatic, almost honoured - if he could not laugh, he would instead cheer, "—Woo! Damn, come on!—”
Ross became puppeteered by sensory torment in an instant, cackling and giggling no longer a feasible option as the buzz from the electric toothbrush caused his left foot to automatically jolt and jerk, whilst the nibbling teeth against his right row of toes forced his head forwards in alarm, feathers now all too irritatingly making their way around his neck and the bridge of his nose, which only created a constantly prickly sensation that felt hard to handle alongside all the other moments of nipping and whizzing taking place from the ankle down …
“—Oh! Mnn, dang! Fff, ffff, ffff—”, he held the giggles at the back of his throat, his nostrils flared and his teeth clenched, he shook his head and grinned as if he had just won the lottery, when in actual fact the idea of winning anything felt light years away, “—Woo! You’re a sadistic little fucker, you know that!—”, Ross concluded his vast array of thoughts with venom, “—You fuck, you shithead fucker asshole, dang!—” he gasped so quickly he almost gagged.
As promised, Harry slid his teeth and tongue away from Ross’s right sole and replaced its presence with his own fingernails, which scratched, stroked and scattered up and down the bottom of Ross’s right foot in a speedy dance, whilst the electric toothbrush tickled the squirming toes of his left foot, “—Is that better, Ross?” Harry enquired, “Come on, laugh for me, let it all out whilst we feast on you …”
Ross’s feet did not know which way to stretch as his grainy, held-at-the-base-of-his-throat cackles teased to erupt into uncontrollable laughter, produced from the very pit of his toned abs - he had no choice but to keep them behind the wetness of his mouth, his cheeks boiling red, his neck so pulsatingly thick that it filled the entire steel loop contained around it, “—When I’m outta this, man!—”, he spat, his grin always there, always manic, his teeth framing the tip of his tongue as he squealed in shock, “—I’m fucking coming for you, I swear!—”
Harry’s eyelashes fluttered flirtatiously as he journeyed the electric toothbrush around Ross’s twitching left big toe, “—Ooh, is that a promise, Ross?”
From behind the wall, Ross’s ass and balls slid and squeaked over his metal seating as his contained, sweaty, nude body squirmed within its tight encasing, “—Mmn, okay, you can do this, Ross, heh, oh, mnn, shit!—”, Ross’s creased expression began to shimmer and his mouth widened in an attempt to bite at something himself, to do anything but give into the giggles, — nip! nip! nip!—, this time, unlike Harry’s teeth being a guest star in the show, Ross’s teeth did their best at attempting to clamp down on whatever tried attacking his exposed levels of sensitivity, “—Fff, fff, shhh, shit! Come on, fuck! Shit, shit!—”, would it be the feathers, or Harry’s fingers, or the toothbrush travelling around the pads of his now clenched toes in a circular whizz? “—Okay, we get it! Enough, en, I’m kinda, seeing like, stars n’ shit!—”, Ross really thought the biting might work, even though he missed every time, he really thought they would listen, he really was that inexperienced … “—I, I, okay, oof,” he blew in through his mouth and then huffed out through his nose, “Oof, oof, okay, oooooookay, get off,” he muttered, before breathing in his giggles only to shout out a stern, “—Get offa me!—”
Harry licked the taste of Ross’s feet away from his lips, “Oh? Do you assume we’ll switch the lights back on, that the electric toothbrush will just go back to its charging deck in my bathroom?”
He watched T.K move his coils and talons down towards Ross’s feet where the feathers joined Harry in tickling Ross’s soles; they fluttered over his left toes whilst Harry scribbled over his right instep with his fingernails, the electric toothbrush in his other hand buzzing in a fast paced whizz around Ross’s left heel …
“—Gahah! Woo, oh man! Ahahaha! Woo, shit! Ahahaha, okay, it tickles, fuck!—”
“—Do you really think that the talons and the coils and the feathers and the fluttering would just simply agree to subside, like that’s how we roll?” Harry continued to verbally taunt Ross as Ross’s feet flexed so hard his ankles bones clicked, all ten of his long, perfect toes stretching towards an escape that was not there, his face absolutely riddled with a soak of mindless delirium as he was forced to accept a harsh truth, “Well, the big news, Ross, is that is not how we roll, and if you want us to stop, you have to let it all out and say the word ‘oink’ …”
Harry watched Ross’s eyes do the thinking; they shifted from side to side, as if powering his thought process; Harry could sense consideration, he could sense uncertainty, and then he sensed something he did not expect - pure, undeniable arrogance.
“—Fuck you, Styles! Your, your music sucks! An, and the others aren’t as strong as I am!—” Ross declared proudly, “—I’ll piss myself if I have to!—”, he seemed to always be laughing by grinning so hard, by expressing such a genuine beam from ear to ear, by how much eat foot wriggled and curled, yet there was no hysteria leaving his lips, no giggled screams or mindless bellowes, “—I, I could do this all day, mother fucker!—” there was just dribbled will power, pulsating veins and quivering lips, which all arrived in the tiniest of moments yet suggest the largest of attempts at keeping everything back …
Harry took a step back and held up his hands, switching off the electric toothbrush at the same time.
Bzzzz — click!
T.K stopped twirling the feathers and hovered both of his coils above Ross’s feet in a silent dangle.
“Your music sucks? I think that’s a little harsh. I personally can’t get enough of As It Was, despite how much it’s over played these days, then again your work on the 2019 album Fine Line was absolutely top tier talent—”
—Harry chuckled to himself, bent down and picked up his mask.
“You almost had me questioning myself,” he admitted, placing his muzzle back around his face, “You see, I didn’t just go from king of pop to the prince of tickling overnight …” he clipped the muzzle into place and pocketed the toothbrush, walking from one end of the wall to the other, “… It’s been a few years in the making, Ross! Story after story, chapter after chapter …” he began to raise his voice, “… I’m worth it! Alright? I’m bloody worth it!—”
Was he reassuring Ross, Kit, Tom, or was he reassuring himself?
“… I matter …” Harry mumbled.
Ross licked his lips and focused on catching his breath as T.K tilted his talons and awaited further instruction.
“I’ll ruin you,” Harry sniggered, “Oh, I’ll ruin you and I’ll succeed, that’s how it’s been written …”
Ross curled all ten of his toes and cocked an eyebrow, “Man, it’s uh, it’s not that deep, f’real—”
—Harry then glanced to the ceiling compartment T.K had used to enter and exit The Room, “Go in … ” Harry whispered, “… You know what I want.”
Tom could not help but allow an overwhelmed, “Whoaa …” leave his lips.
Ross began to quake within his steel box as he watched T.K’s talons drop the feathers, where they then whizzed up towards the compartment and disappeared inside the ceiling.
“Go, go in?—”, Ross’s head frantically twisted as he felt his sweaty sides, his thighs, his back, his seated buttocks, everything seated in the metal box behind the wall suddenly feel so exposed, so vulnerable, so unprotected, “—What do you mean by that!—” Ross shrieked, “—Don’t go in! No going in!—” he shifted from cocky and assured to panicked and worried, all within a matter of seconds …
Suddenly, there was a bang and then a shake, something was above him, behind him, “Get them out, please, fuck! Get out, get out!—”, Ross cried.
Harry tucked his hands into his pockets and watched the reality of Ross’s situation dawn over his face, by simply keeping his eyes on Ross’s head; within seconds, Ross was manhandled by machinery as T.K’s two coils and talons infiltrated the box he sat cuffed in and began to violate Ross’s positioning, without Ross being able to see any of it take place - Harry watched Ross’s eyes boil, his jaw widen, his neck twist as the steel framing him remained still, strong and secure - after such previous cutting confidence from Ross, Harry had finally rendered him speechless …
“What’s the matter, Rossy Boy?” Harry had no idea where T.K’s coils were, what his claws and talons were up to behind the wall, “I haven’t got x-ray vision, you’ll have to tell me what’s going on in there …”
Ross could barely talk, his entire body from the neck down dealing with the tight coil of animatronic strength, “… Get them out, Harry, I mean it, this isn’t cool …” Ross admitted breathlessly, his statement being all he could currently say as he felt T.K’s unwanted wrap curl firmly around each of his thighs, spreading them apart so that his flaccid cock and weighty balls were vulnerable and exposed, to T.K and T.K only …
“Harry, I wish you could join me in here! The scent of panic, the view of the betweens of Ticklee 001’s thighs! They look abnormally sensitive …” T.K purred from behind the wall, “… In fact, his muscular and athletic torso, his ridiculously toned stomach and his long, smooth back also appear to be soft and markless … My calculations predict that he will snap in less than two point five minutes …”
Harry pursed his lips as he picked the electric toothbrush out from his trouser pocket.
“I thought having a robot as a best friend would suck,” he grinned, switching the toothbrush back on, “Turns out, it’s kinda cool …”
Click! Bzzzzz …
With T.K’s coils wrapped around each leg, his talons were still hovering between Ross’s thighs, talons that had stretched open once again …
“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh ssh, shh, ohshitshitshitshitshit!—” Ross wriggled as if on fire within his encasing behind the wall, his big bare feet still locked and exposed on the other side, “—Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!—”, Harry’s electric toothbrush now buzzed, whizzed, vibrated, spun towards his toes as he felt the intrusive flutter of a feather twirl around his flaccid cock, “—Oh shit, oh SHIT, OH SHIT, OH SHIT!—” to make matters worse, the feeling of a secondary feather twirling around his hairless balls introduced itself, just as Harry pressed the tip of the electric toothbrush against the base of Ross’s tightly clenched toes …
Ross obliterated T.K’s prediction by expelling an earth shattering array of manic laughter and high pitched begging immediately, his entire six foot tall seated frame rattling from behind the wall as the buzz of the electric toothbrushes bristles barely grazed the tips of his toes, and the feathers from inside T.K’s talons twirled around the inside of his thighs - he screamed at the top of his lungs, his face now shimmering with perspiration as he gawped out a blaring blast of noise that entirely eradicated his chances at winning.
“—Graaaahahahahahaha, ahahahahahahha! Oh, oahahahahaahahaha, wooo, damn! Wooaaahahahahaha, whoaaahahahahaha, damn! Dahahahahahamn!—” T.K moved one of his coils and feathers up to Ross’s navel, discovering a hot spot if Ross’s increase in pitch regarding his frantic squeal were to be considered, “—AAAAAHH! AAAAAH! AAAHAHAAAA! STOP, STOP! AHAHAHAHA, AHAHAHAHAH, AHAHAHAHAHA!—” one feather remained at his stomach whilst the other persisted in tickling the betweens of his thighs, Ross body now barely able to contain itself from the confines of the walls behind …
Ross tried to verbalise the only words that felt right at the time, which were, for Ross, ‘oh god’, but only an endless bellow of open mouthed, wide eyed laughter echoed through the room, Ross’s twirling head only able to face the stern stillness of Harry’s, Ross’s eyes and jaw fixed open, a non stop and chaotic avalanche of hysterics erupting out of his throat all at once with such vigour that a monotone Harry could feel the debris of spit and saliva pat, pit, pat, pit, pat against his cheeks, a sensation that would cause an ordinary person to blink or twitch but no, not Harry …
… He barely flinched.
The metallic coils entwined around each of Ross’s thighs pulled his legs apart into a much wider spread, an uncomfortable position to be in, considering his feet were locked so neatly together on the other side of the wall - the invasion of the feathers twirled into deeper areas beneath the sweaty chunks that made up Ross’s large balls, they ventured towards his taint, the soft yet sharp glide and spin violating the ticklish inch of flesh that made up the softest and most delicate expanse of Ross’s body, from his ass hole to the base of his cock, a cock that swung, flopped, dangled and shook as Ross continued to convulse behind the wall, his laughter now so non stop and out of control that he had quite simply began to cry …
“—Pleeeaahahahahahahahase pleeeeaahahahahahaase oh goahahahahahahahahaaad pleeeaahahahahahahahahahase ssstoaaaahahahahahahahahahp, oh, oh, OH, OH!—” he had never had his taint feathered before, and now he could barely think straight, “—OHAAAHAHAHAAAHAHAHA STOP, STOP, STOPAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, PLEASE, AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!—” his laughter was like a pure noise, no breathing between, just a constant sound, an expel that went on forever, “—AGAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, AGHAHAHAHAHAHA, AGHAHAHAHAHA!—” for someone challenged not to laugh, well, laughter was all he could now do …
Harry decided to show Ross what he was made of by using his teeth once again to bite, chew, lick and slurp across Ross’s left sole, whilst he used the electric toothbrush on his right sole - the attack was so barbaric, so merciless, so horrific that Ross could not understand the level of absurdity he currently endured, all he could do was cackle, scream, shout and howl in Harry’s direction, with a standard question leaving his moist lips in the form of a defeated babble …
“—Whaahahahahahahahahaaat did I do? Whahahahahahahahahahahat did I do!—”
Harry ignored Ross and kept on chewing, his teeth nipping at each curling toe, his lips and tongue molesting Ross’s left sole in the form of kisses, raspberries and naughty bites, all whilst T.K whizzed two feathers between Ross’s thighs, a truly ticklish sensation that transformed Ross into a drenched, soggy ticklee that was coated in thick layers of perspiration, droplets of sweat now forming above his lip, his forehead, the bridge of his nose - he could not see, his blinking frequent, his tassles of blonde scattered across the top half of his head, his always open mouth trying to shout the word ‘oink’, however he could not manage to even produce the four letter word, leading him to do the absolute unthinkable.
To Harry’s satisfaction, Ross began to actually oink, to snort like a pig, to become a little piglet just like Harry had described …
“Oh yes—”, Harry spoke with his mouth filled with Ross’s toes, “—Oh bloody yes, yes, yes!—” he jeered, Ross’s toes squirming, clenching, flexing within his mouth as Harry persisted in biting on them, his other hand dancing across Ross’s right sole with the electric toothbrush, bzzz, bzzz, bzzzzzz, its vibrating bristles violating the ticklishness of his heel, his arch, the pad of his foot, all whilst T.K continued to twirl two ordinary feathers across the hypersensitive, private, intimate and only up till now untouched area that made up Ross’s taint.
“—Grrunkk! Grrunnkk! Nuhhghk, grunnkk!—” Ross snorted like a pig, he wheezed and heaved, gathering enough breath to shout, “—Oink, oink! Oink, oink!—”, emotion blew out of his nose, his mouth lost control of the high levels of saliva produced with each oink, his face practically glowed with a sheen of exhaustion, all whilst he cackled and cackled and cackled and cackled, his feet twisting and flexing, his body writhing and wriggling, the feathers still spinning between his thighs, “—Oink, oink! Oink, oink!—” Ross cried, “—Grrunkk! Grrunnkk! Nuhhghk, grunnkk!—”
The lights came back on, causing Kit and Tom to squint - as soon as their heads and feet were revealed once more, Tom decided to stretch his head further out the wall and growl out to Harry, “He said oink, you wanker! Stop it!—”, he hissed, Harry’s intent gaze leaving Ross’s feet, only to turn towards Tom, providing a look in the form of a threat that said, ‘you’ll regret saying that …’
Tom pressed his lips shut as Harry returned his focus to Ross’s soles, speaking into them as he nibbled on each toe.
“You’ve lost fifty thousand points, Ross …” he had to speak loudly, due to the volume of Ross’s laughter, “… Who are you transferring your torment to?”
Kit squeezed his eyes shut, the wish of ‘please don’t say my name, please don’t say my name, please don’t say my name’ running through his mind as he waited for Ross to gather enough energy to shout out —
“—TOM! I CHOOSE TOM!—”
Suddenly, Ross’s epic round of laughter dialled down to frantic giggles, his squirming and leaping dropped into a weighty slump, his feet remained still, despite being coated with Harry’s dribble …
T.K’s two coils curled out from inside Ross’s compartment and then returned through their own holes in the ceiling, where they hung around Harry’s head in a loyal dangle, their feathers whizzing back inside their talons …
Kit peeled his eyes open and trembled out a deep sigh of relief as he turned towards Tom, who looked at him with a determined glare and clenched teeth, his tiny mouth and pink lips shaping out words Kit did not expect to hear …
“… I think I know a way out of this …”
“There is no way out of this!—” Harry reminded cheerfully, “—I’m in control, I’m in charge, I call the shots, alright, little piggy?—”
Harry reached forwards and began to scratch into the bottoms of Tom’s feet as if he were digging, searching, clawing into something - maybe it was further validation, maybe it was some much needed approval, maybe it was just a hit - a hit to remind Harry that he was in charge, he had evolved, he had made it …
Tom’s inability to cope with the sudden attack vibrated beneath his skin in the form of an eruptive jolt; he bit down over his lower lip, his eyes cooking up a ferocious stare, his feet speedily retracting in a defiant, inward cross, all ten of his toes curling into a determined scrunch - just as he breathed in and readied himself to shout the word ‘stop’, Harry’s fingernails scribbled away from his heels and instead took hold of both of Tom’s feet, where he provided him with the unexpected - a firm and calming massage.
“Now, what can I put these through?” Harry admired their shape, their size, the softness of their exterior, “What almighty task do we give the most ticklish House of White Feathers ticklee, of all time?” He purred …
Harry tore himself away from the temptation to yank off his muzzle and and to start licking, sucking and biting on Tom’s toes by pulling his hands away from Tom’s feet - with a controlled grunt, he paced along the wall in thought, as T.K’s two coils continued to hover above him, “Hm,” he stroked his chin and pursed his lips, “The question is more what hasn’t he been through …”
Tom acknowledged the absurdity of ideas that went through his head - he felt acutely aware of their speed and of how risky it would be to try such a thing, but none of that stopped him from changing his mind or backing down - instead, his face wriggled forwards and his eyebrows lifted as he sent an enthusiastic look at the robotic arms dangling from The Room’s ceiling, “—Hey, T.K!—” he whispered recklessly, “—I’ve got something I need to tell you!—”
T.K’s two coils paused and spun towards Tom, their talons stretching open as Harry smirked and took his time turning around, a quiet, “—You cheeky little sod …” leaving his mouth.
“Yes, Tom?” One of T.K’s talons faced Tom’s head, the other faced his feet, another metal pincer protruding from inside the open claw, bzzzzzzzzzz, its sharp tip nearting the fleshy sole of Tom’s left sole, “I should really be referring to you as Ticklee 000 …”
In his current position, Tom protected his weakness the only way he knew how, by scrunching all ten of his toes and crossing his feet into an X shape, his ultra ticklish vulnerability still entirely on show for T.K’s whizzing pincer, “—Well, we’re close, right, mate? We use our real names, you and I, ss, so Tom is fine …”
Harry lowered his tone as if talking to a servant, “… T.K, please retrieve Tom’s ball gag …”
As the electrical wires within T.K’s coils readied their movement to abide by Harry’s orders, Tom raised his voice and directed all of his energy to the talon closest to his face, “—Wait! Tha, that Harry guy …” Tom gulped, “… He stopped me from coming back to you for a massage …”
—Harry hurtled forwards with his hands shaped into claws, his fingernails ready to dig into Tom’s soles once again, but before he could even take a step forwards one of T.K’s talons spun around and clamped over Harry’s face, - CLAMP! - snatching hold of his head and swiftly lifting him off his feet …
Harry did not growl or shout into the metal, he did not kick or twist, writhe or wriggle mid air - he simply held onto the coil and glared at the talon holding onto his fury, the steel claws perfectly clutched around the entirety of his head …
“Mnnph, mnn, mnnphh! …” Harry warned.
Much to Tom’s relief, the whizzing pincer extending from T.K’s other talon returned to the inside of his claw, “A massage like the one in London, Tom?—”, however, Tom’s moment of ease did not last for long as soon as the A.I tickler extended a metal, cock shaped vibrator from his talon instead, which began to buzz and press against the bottom of Tom’s right big toe, “—One where I get to caress your hyper ticklish soles with one of my sex toys?”
Tom almost burst through the wall, his right foot doing all it could to stretch, flap and curl away from T.K’s vibrator, “—Yes! One like that!—” the vibrator followed, its bullet shaped tip nudging against Tom’s big toe a second, third, fourth time, “—Uncuff us, let us out and I promise you, you can massage my feet however you like, whenever you like!—”, Tom felt a barrage of giggles swell behind his cheeks, but before they could tumble out of him, T.K switched off the vibrator, returned it inside his talon and then turned around where it’s open claw decided to face Harry …
“Why did you stop Tom from coming to me, Harry?” T.K let go of Harry’s head, allowing his body to drop to the ground, but mere nano seconds before it hit the floor T.K’s secondary coil wrapped around Harry’s ankles and swooped him into an upside down position, “We had unfinished business, my need to explore his feet, to infiltrate his senses is far greater than anything anyone else could possibly—”
Harry began to pick up a sweat, the veins at the side of his head thickening, his once neatly styled quiff of hair now victim to gravity and transforming into a messy dangle, “—He’s lying, T.K, you’re a fucking robot for goodness sake!—”, he huffed, “—Now put me down and let’s crack on, eh?—”, Harry glanced up as soon as he felt T.K pick at the loafer covering his left foot, a loafer that began to peel away, inch by inch, “—Hey, keep that on, T.K! Keep that on!—”
A third coil and talon appeared from the ceiling compartment, its gentle hover arriving directly in front of Tom’s face.
“Lovers only speak the truth to each other, Tom …”
Tom tilted his head and looked at T.K’s third talon with a reassuring, almost flirtatious expression.
“After everything we’ve been through, T.K …” he paused to allow the additional weight of importance to soak his words, “… Would I lie to you?”
All of T.K’s coils and talons shuddered at once.
Harry’s loafer fell to the floor, before T.K started to remove his right …
“T.K …” Harry growled, “…T.K, T.K!—” he reached up, his fingers flexing, he tried to grab, to claw, to stop what would happen, but the talons were pinching the toes of his dress socks, his feet were being stripped, “—I’m in charge, T.K! T.K! I’m in control! What are you doing!—”
Suddenly, Tom, Ross and Kit felt the handcuffs binding their hands behind the backs all uncuff.
Click! Click! Click!
The wall adjusted the steel, circular bindings around their ankles and necks so that they could pull their heads and feet inside …
Tom used his heels to reverse shuffle himself out of his box, where his muscular, naked shape fell out onto a metal floor behind him with a thud.
Ross and Kit landed either side of him in the same form of nude tumble.
They all peered up at the tiny compartments-within-a-wall, their temporary prisons they had now so easily been freed from.
Tom sprung to his feet as soon as he heard Harry begin to shout in fierce protest, “—I matter! I’m worthy! I’m woahahahahahahahahahahahaooorthy!—”, on the other side of the wall, T.K introduced his whizzing pincers to Harry’s toes, creating a thunderous and chaotic explosion of laughter that was so loud that Ross had to shout towards Tom.
“—You are just fucking awesome, man!—” He cheered.
Tom winced, “Cheers! I er, I have no idea what I’m doing!—”, he admitted.
Ross grabbed Tom’s shoulders and shook them, “You just sold your feet to a sex robot!”
Tom’s eyebrows lifted, “—I, I did?—” he whined.
Kit barged through them both and began to pick up speed by darting towards the fire exit, “—What are we waiting for?—”
Tom and Ross followed as Kit cranked open the door and stumbled out into one of The Mansion’s main halls.
Cold, steel flooring became soft, synthetic carpet as their bare feet tiptoed into luxury rarely seen, compared to the inside of their Living Quarters …
Slowly, Harry’s screams were silenced by the door closing behind them …
“Now what?” Ross whispered.
Down the lavish corridor, everything felt too quiet, too convenient …
The walls were lined with framed images of white feathers; twinkling chandeliers dangled from its ceiling, the end of the corridor felt too accessible, too open …
Was it simply a case of just—
“—Run,” Kit declared, “Now we run.”
Kit, Tom and Ross leaped off into a hurried dash, hurtling down the corridor in a speed even the fastest of runs might be envious of; they unapologetically exploded through one set of wooden doors and then another, their young, frantic and energetic athleticism whizzing them through another corridor decorated in rich, red wallpaper, and then into another corridoor where more chandeliers dangled and single doors remained locked …
They slammed their way through a third, fourth, was it fifth set of double doors? Until Tom stumbled to a sudden stop and whispered an urgent, “—Oi, you two!—”, to Ross and Kit ahead.
They staggered to a halt and spun around to face Tom, who stepped back slowly with his mouth wide open and peered directly at something that masked his face with an expression that suggested complete and utter awe …
“What’s ‘the object’ …?” Ross asked, a little out of breath.
Tom remained still and silent as he took in the details of the items before him.
Kit arrived at his right shoulder and eyed a glass unit containing a pair of worn socks, another glass unit containing a pair of running trainers, another glass unit containing a bundle of string …
Beneath each glass unit was a gold plaque that read, ‘The Objects socks’, and ‘String Used to Tie The Objects Toes’ and ‘The Objects gym trainers’ …
Kit turned to Tom.
“It’s you,” he whispered.
Tom took a careful step closer to the glass at the left of the display table, his bare foot making no noise at all over the carpet.
“Ever since this all started,” he spoke to the boys beside him, when in all honestly he mostly addressed an inner meaning trapped deep inside his chest, “I’ve always tried to turn what they do to me into, to us … Into something else …” his fingertips pressed against the glass, his eyes narrowing at the gym trainers unlaced behind it, “… Andy used to say it was a way of transforming my weakness into a power.”
Before Kit or Ross could respond, Tom immediately put that thought process into action by picking up the glass unit and hurtling it against the other side of the wall.
Kit and Ross ducked in shock as the unit smashed across the wallpaper, shattering into a thousand pieces of glass as his running trainers propelled in a soundless bounce over the corridor carpet, where they rolled to a stop near the base of a nearby plant pot.
Kit and Ross then stood quietly, their arms dangling at their sides, as Tom casually made his way towards his running trainers, which were a second ago a historic item idolised by those who walked down these halls - now, they were his again.
Tom picked up the trainers and slid them onto his feet, “I got these at JD Sports in Kingston,” he huffed, “If you’d have told me then how good a purchase it was, because of a reason like this, pfft …” he crouched down and tied the laces into a firm knot, “… I would’ve said you were talking bollocks.”
Tom stood fiercely and nodded ahead.
“Now let’s go,” he said.
Another set of wooden, double doors burst open, allowing Tom, Kit and Ross to leap down a huge spiral staircase, Kit and Ross’s bare feet silent in their travel, whilst Tom’s trainer-clad feet thumped over floorboards.
Now following them were two Masked Henchmen, both wielding dart guns, which they fired at the rebellious contestants with trained dedication, — pip! pip! pip! — however, Tom, Kit and Ross were too fast, leaving each dart to either smash into a vase or impale the floral wallpaper with a thuck, allowing the boys to speed ahead through The Mansion.
Eventually, they arrived in a long, wide dining room with floor to ceiling windows lining the opposite wall - on the other side of the prestine clean glass was the swedish woodland that surrounded The Mansion, a woodland that led to hidden nets, ankle clamps and concealed pits …
… A woodland that also, at least led, to a potential escape …
Tom grabbed one of the dining table chairs and without any hesitance, he lifted it into the air and flung it at the window.
SMASH!
Ross and Kit ducked once again as the chair hurtled through the window, smashing it open, where its shining and sharp debris hurtled out into the cold swedish air and stoney driveway below, causing the chasing Masked Henchmen to arrive and stagger to a shocked hault.
“There’s no stopping him!” Kit cheered.
Tom peered out the window, assessing the six foot drop to gravel and grass.
Ross decided to play his role and turned towards The Masked Henchmen with fists curled into balls.
“You want some, huh?” He jumped forwards and swiped a punch at The Masked Henchman to the left, “Come and get it, you freak!”
The Masked Henchman dodged the punch but did not anticipate a kick in the stomach, as Ross’s left foot thwacked into his gut, causing him to fall to his knees.
Tom made sure Kit climbed out of the window first, hurrying his beefy exterior carefully through the window frame, where Kit clambered out and landed with a wince as his bare feet landed over stones.
Tom then leaped out of the window and landed firmly in a gentle crouch, the rubber soles of his trainers protecting him.
Together, they then rain out into the woods.
CRACK!
Ross elbowed The Masked Henchmen in the face with such force his mask fractured in two.
“Take it like a bitch, dick head!” Ross hissed.
He then sent his knee into The Masked Henchmen’s jaw, hurtling him flat onto the flat surface of the dining table behind with an almighty thump.
“—More than a little piggy now, right!—”
Ross could feel every nip and every nibble across every toe, he acknowledged the anger that boiled in the pit of his chest as Harry chewed and groped his feet, all whilst Ross sat there cuffed, exposed, vulnerable … Now unbound, now able to release that fury …
“—You wanna say oink, mother fucker?—” Ross shook his knuckles and prepared himself to go all in as an alarm sounded within The Mansion’s halls.
🚨 Beeeeep, beeeeep, beeeeep, beeeep! 🚨
As Ross stood over The Masked Henchmen’s panicked slump across the dining room table, he felt the arrival of a dart as it impaled the side of his neck, his eyebrows creasing, his nose burrowing into a tight scrunch.
Pip!
Ross frowned and picked the dart out of his skin, his eyes slowly rolling to the back of his head.
“… Bitch …”
As he collapsed over The Masked Henchman’s torso, Tom and Kit entered the woods just as the sound of motorbike engines began to rev around the outside of The Mansion.
🚨 Beeeeep, beeeeep, beeeeep, beeeep! 🚨
“Come on, mate, keep going!—”, Tom could sense Kit lagging behind, “—Remember, there’s traps everywhere, we just need to—”
“—Tom, stop—”, Kit, completely out of breath, grabbed hold of Tom’s left wrist and squeezed it.
Together, both Kit and Tom huddled behind a tree.
“What’s wrong? We’re out!” Tom looked elated, beads of sweat littering his forehead, “We’re out of—”
“—We’ve tried this before,” Kit announced, his cheeks red, his upper lip soaked with perspiration, “We’ll never be out …”
Tom clenched his teeth, “—Mate …”
Kit let go of Tom’s wrist and held up his hands in surrender, stepping out from behind the tree just as a dart struck his left shoulder.
Pip!
Tom threw himself into another rampant run, his gym trainers slipping and sliding over mud as the late afternoon sun beamed through the clouds blanketing the skies above The Mansion.
He galloped through ankle deep icy streams and he hopped over fallen trunks, whilst darts whizzed past his head and pipped into bushes.
He crawled into a frantic climb up a grassy hill, the tall, towering trees surrounding him observing his attempt at escape in an admiring silence as The Mansions alarm faded into nothing …
He began to cackle in success as the motorbike engines and their determined rev became a thing of the past, the darts no longer whizzing past each ear …
Breathlessly, he reached the top of the hill, expecting to see a wider view of the woodland, perhaps a road leading to traffic and the chance to hitchhike his way to a nearby motel, which would have a receptionist, which would have a phone, which he would use to call Zendaya or Tobey or Jake or …
… Instead, he was greeted by Harry.
Harry stood barefoot, the bottoms of his trousers torn up by metal claws, a line of blood trickling out of his left nostril, staining the structure of the mask covering his face from the nose down …
Huff … Huff … Huff …
Tom squinted as the lowering sun glowed around them - right here, they were tall and mighty, surrounded by nature, air, sunshine - everything but kinky contraptions, mindless money and plastic masks …
Tom’s eyes trailed over the remains of Harry’s trousers.
“That T.K sure is a fiesty one …”
Harry stepped forwards, almost too urgently.
“Do you …” he patted his own chest, “… Do you respect me? …” he asked.
Tom’s lips parted, his throat bobbed in his neck, up and down, up and down, up and down …
“… No …” Tom replied.
After completely giving himself to The House of White Feathers, Harry stood opposite the finest of all lee’s, a lee that had broken away from him, made him appear useless and unsuccessful, but above all else, embarrassed him at what was meant to be his finest of moments …
Harry’s green eyes shifted from side to side, the woodland breeze blowing his hair away from his face as he became speechless, lost, unable to prove his worth.
“I could let you go,” Harry tore the mask away from his face and threw it over his shoulder, where it landed on the other side of the hill and rolled towards the expanse of woodland Tom so desperately wanted to enter, “They’d never forget that, would they? Chasing you once again ...”
Tom could feel his heart pulsating beneath his flesh - on the other side of Harry were chances, opportunities, a simple and singular moment where all he could and would do was flee …
Harry smeared emotion away from his jaw, “It would be something to remember, something your lot would admire me for, eh? I’d go down in the cults history as one of the ultimate betrayers …”
Crows flew high over Tom and Harry’s heads, their squawk echoing out into thousands and thousands of yards of forest.
“… Or …” Harry stepped closer to Tom and smiled, “… I could just shove you off this hill …” he placed all ten of his fingertips against the smoothness of Tom’s chest, “… You’d roll all the way down, you’d land flat on that perky arse of yours, you’d be caught within a matter of minutes, I hear the punishment for escape attempts his pretty barbaric …”
Tom’s nostrils flared as his toes and feet gripped the ground - his eyelashes fluttered, his stare fixed on Harry’s mouth, his hurried whisper arriving quickly, as if he were almost out of time.
“Be the one who makes a difference …” Tom urged, the need to say ‘please, I’m begging you’ caught at the back of his throat …
Harry squinted over Tom’s shoulder at the sight of motorbikes and fast running Masked Henchmen bolting between trees …
Seeing the onslaught of wrath only reminded him of the relentless force he would have to deal with, regardless of what he chose to do next.
As the motorbike engines grew louder and the booted footsteps crunched closer, Harry stepped to the left and allowed Tom to pass.
As their shoulders brushed past each other, Harry’s hand blocked Tom from leaving by pressing against the flatness of his stomach.
Harry’s lips arrived gently at Tom’s left ear, where he whispered a sharp and serious warning, one that was so foreboding that it caused Tom’s eyes to widen in concern, then narrow in impassioned focus.
Tom tilted his head back so that he faced Harry, a mischievous smile lifting his lips.
“I didn’t have a better reason to run, you just gave me one,” he said.
Tom then ran down the other side of the hill, towards his escape.
Harry stood with his hands high in the air as the motorbikes and Masked Henchmen arrived at the bottom of his side of the hill.
“He’s too fast!” Harry yelled, “You won’t catch him!—” he flinched as a dart arrived in his neck, “—Mnn! N, not this time …”
Harry’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as he fell backwards.
As if in slow motion, with the setting sun shining behind him, his smartly dressed, unmasked, barefoot form fell with arms wide apart where it slid almost too perfectly down the hill and at the feet of The Masked Henchmen, where it then lay still in an upward starfish shape …
Two Masked Henchmen grabbed each of Harry’s ankles.
“No,” they agreed, “But you’ll do.”
They then dragged him away, with only the smear of failure left behind in the mud.
Hello, dear reader! T.K here. Gosh, I’ll be honest with you, I feel so sad! Tom has gone on the run, again! I’ll miss having him around (he smells SO good) but I’m sure he’ll be captured in no time … Right! Right?
Anyway, uh, back to Game Four! Both Ross and Kit were given two hundred thousand points, with their mission to keep their score throughout this game. However, they failed, losing them fifty thousand points each!
Timothée remains in the lead with Bieber a close second …
Will Tom be found? What did the note that Sebastian found under his pillow say? And now that one of the contestants is M.I.A, what on earth could possibly happen next? (I’ve been kind and highlighted a hint to the next game in red!)
See you in two Thursdays time, everyone!
Game Five, ‘Eat Me’ available on 26th June!