Tom’s belted, glistening chest rose and fell with rapid, uneven breaths.

Every inch of his body felt tense - not from exertion, but from anticipation - his stomach was riddled with an electric kind of suspense that only increased in weight as the sight of a digital blue foot flickered above the computer screen between his thighs …

Hypno whispered his announcement with a glistening smile, “Weak spot three of three.”

Tom’s muscular arms remained pinned high above his head, the leather belts holding them snug against the padded backboard - his legs were still spread wide, restrained at the thighs and knees, ensuring he couldn’t close them, couldn’t twist away, couldn’t do anything but wait … But what he dreaded most wasn’t the bindings, it was the fact that his trainers had remained on for so long …

Until now.

“Ending on a high note, eh?” Tom quipped.

The running trainers sat there - mockingly ordinary - white, rubber, forest stained soles exposed on the other side of the dark, steel platforms at the end of The Machine - he could feel the warmth trapped inside of each trainer, the slickness of sweat that had collected around his toes, his heels, since he had been made to release so much hysteria whilst wearing footwear so tightly laced …

“Now, Tom. Listen carefully. What I want to do to you cannot be actioned by a human …” Hypno eyed T.K’s talons through the menacing glare of his skull mask as the two robotic coils curled themselves around The Machine, one coil snapping like a claw in excitement, the other still gripping tightly over the plastic box that made up The Hysteria Monitor, “What is in my mind,” he tapped the side of his head, “It’s too hideous to play out, just by myself …Too dramatic to conceive … You may ask yourself, ‘is this real, is this actually happening’ … That’s good. I want you to be bombarded with doubt, fuelled with confusion …”

Tom sucked in a chunk of oxygen as one of T.K’s talons arrived around his right underarm, stretching out his claws, where he observed the smooth landscape that made up the depths of Tom’s cavernous pit; if he had a sense of smell, he would surely be sniffing right now …

Hypno continued, his glowing blue eyes admiring T.K as he partly addressed the A.I tickler, “That’s why only this brilliant invention, this obsessive technical marvel has the ability to exploit the treasure behind those trainers …” he then sat on the padded floor in the cross legged position and sighed in entertained content behind his mask, “… And I shall simply observe.”

T.K’s talon curled away from Tom’s underarm and joined his other metallic coil, where both of T.K’s claws turned to face Harrison and nudged their steel tips in a point towards the padded floor, as if respectfully thanking him, “… I promise to turn your fantasy into a reality, Hypno …” T.K then opened one of his claws, dropping The Hysteria Monitor into Hypno’s lap, where he then lifted his talons and wiggled his coils, metal scales vibrating throughout each cylindrical structure as if he were some kind of futuristic octopus, “… May I begin?”

Hypno bobbed his head in approval and ran his fingertips over the red light on the middle of The Hysteria Monitors surface.

Behind the protection of his trainers, Tom’s bare feet twitched; they were hyper-aware, absurdly sensitive, so much so that he could feel the soft pulse of his own heartbeat in each arch … Tom swallowed hard, he knew what was coming, that’s what made it worse, the waiting, the building tension - his mind ran ahead of him, imagining every whizz of a sharp pen, every stroke of a hairbrush, every feather-light scrape he had felt since being introduced to this cult over two years ago, yet this right now, what would happen next, would be far worse than anything he had ever experienced, after already experiencing so much …

All ten of Tom’s toes already started to curl inside his trainers in nervous anticipation, as if they could somehow prepare themselves …

“I’m, I’m not going to ask you to be nice, mate,” Tom nervously watched both of T.K’s claws arrive opposite each of his rubber soles, “I’m not going to try to use you to get out of this, T.K …” both talons stretched open and projected a pink scanner over the bottoms of Tom’s trainers where T.K analysed temperature, tension, proximity, “… But I am going to ask you not to cum all over the place, like you did last time,” Tom grimaced within his bondage as the scanner booped, booped, booped over the bottoms of his running trainers, “That was … A bit rank, if I’m er, being totally honest …” he thought being britishly cheeky might make himself feel better, if anything, the silent response made him feel worse …

“Subject vitals elevated,” T.K ignored Tom’s attempts at being playful and instead analysed, “Weak spot three of three: feet: astonishingly responsive, sensitivity threshold: extreme …”

Tom clenched his jaw, “So are you and Hypno a thing now then, eh?” He glanced over at Hypno, who remained seated, still, ignoring Tom’s sass, his blue, glass eyes always watching T.K, “Over me already, aye?” Tom’s attention was then snatched back to his feet as he felt a release; the soft loosen of laces, the beginning of the removal of trainers that had been so safe and so snug around each size eleven for so long …

“Oh, I’ll never be over you, Tom …” how could an A.I tickler sound hungry? “… It isn’t possible. You’re eye wateringly delicious, from your good-looking head all the way down to your tasty looking toes …”

Tom rattled within his restraints as one metal claw clamped lightly onto the heel of his right trainer, the other grasping the toe - together, both of T.K’s talons began to peel the trainer away from Tom’s left foot with devastating slowness …

“You’re a charmer!—” he muttered under his breath, breathing faster now, trying to wriggle his foot, but there was no success, “—I’ll give you that!—”, the heel of the trainer finally slid free and he felt the rush of cool air against his damp, flushed sole, every pore on the bottom of his foot seemed to gasp, “—Bollocks …”

T.K held the trainer in the air as if it were worth a trillion dollars, “Scent level: eighty percent sweat aroma. Moisture level: twenty four percent dampness. Worth level: ninety british pounds from U.K chain Sports Direct, once on display in hall number twelve, stolen by Ticklee 000 yesterday during his attempt at escape…”

After such a detailed analysis over something that seemed so special, T.K dropped the trainer as if it were useless, where it landed over the padded flooring with a bounce and rolled somewhere past Hypno, who barely gave it a second look.

The other foot was next … Same process …

“Alright, alright!” Tom barked, “Wait, just wait!—” he huffed as if already facing failure, he was out of words, out of ideas, out of time …

“Slow, inevitable, every centimeter exposed must feel like a jolt of static …” T.K dropped the second running trainer in the same way he did the first - plonk! - down it fell, there it bounced and there it rolled, past Hypno once again, as both of T.K’s talons turned their attention back to Tom.

With both feet now completely bare, Tom’s toes were flexing wildly, his soles were twitching with every heartbeat, he could feel everything; the soft ambient temperature, the ultra intense acknowledgement of vulnerability … Then it all went quiet.

For a moment, nothing happened at all …

No sinister, villainous comments from Hypno, no obsessive, mad taunts from T.K …

Tom sat there, panting, heart hammering in his chest, feet twitching helplessly - the skin of his soles felt so naked, so vulnerable, it was like he’d been turned inside out - he parted his lips and readied himself to wriggle into another hurried attempt at escape, instead, something slithered near his toes …

The sensation alone made him jolt, his body reacting before his mind could catch up…. Then: tightness.

“Tell me,” Hypno spoke calmly, a total contrast to the alarm vibrating beneath Tom’s flesh, “Have you ever heard of the red thread theory?” He asked casually.

Red, electrical wires - thin yet firm, utterly inescapable - began curling around the base of both of Tom’s big toes as if programmed to do so, “Mnn! Can’t say that I have, mate!—”, he barely had time to register it before they were pulled taut, gently yet ruthlessly yanking his toes back toward the top of the steel pillars, “—Ooh! Ow, that’s so tight!—”, the stretch forced his soles to go flat and immobile, skin pulled smooth, completely helpless …

“The red thread is the idea that there is a consistent stitching woven through a unified meaning,” Hypno explained as he lifted The Hysteria Monitor away from his lap and admired its shape, “And it ties together all aspects of a singular thing: in this case, for you and the others playing these ‘games’ … It is simple lunacy …”

More red wires continued to protrude from The Machine’s pillars that were stocked around each of Tom’s feet; they automatically coiled and writhed around each individual toe as if they had a life of their own, pinning the rebellious, fleshy digits back one by one, securing Tom’s bare, smooth soles into a completely fixed position, all the way down to his little toes which were so tauntly yanked back that Tom could now no longer move his feet at all …

“… Such tasty, tasty toes …” T.K’s black, metallic coils shuddered once again, “… Long, hairless, soft and pink …”

“—T.K!—”, Tom gawped, “—Sshhh, shhut up!—”

Hypno pinched the steel antenna of The Hysteria Monitor with his index finger and thumb, “Whether it's Chalamet’s rich boyfriend acting out a new bondage position in New York, or a Clown chasing Bieber through one of his L.A mansions,” he placed The Hysteria Monitor on the floor and leant his arms back, still seated in his cross legged position as he watched the red wires fully bind and restrain Tom’s toes into position, “It’s all connected by ‘the red thread’, the same idea, the need for one thing, the one thing they feel, the one thing they endure, the one thing they face, the one thing they try to escape from. The one thing you, yourself, will not be able to escape from right now …”

Tom tried to twist his feet, to nudge them sideways, to press them forwards; he chewed on his lower lip as his eyes seethed out of his skull in frustration, “—Whatishappening!—”

“—Say it,” Hypno growled quietly, “I want to hear you say it. You owe me that much.”

Tom sighed heavily into his chest and finished off Hypno’s speech for him. “… Being driven absolutely insane by tickling? …” he reluctantly mumbled.

Hypno’s eyes glowed blue in elated delight. “And that, ‘mate’, is The House of White Feathers red thread …” Hypno concluded.

T.K’s voice returned, merciless in its calm neutrality, “All ten of Tom’s perfect, tasty toes successfully secured. Size eleven feet locked into place. Pillared stocks bolted shut. Skin tension optimal … … Red wires, please activate …”

Tom’s panic surged again, even worse now, “—Please what!—”, he tried to move his feet - heck, he tried to move anything from the ankle down - but it was all frozen in place. No more twitching. No more curling. Just two bare, hyper-sensitive, fully stretched soles presented like targets on display, with thin, red wires cabled around each toe, red wires that began to vibrate …

Btzzzzzzzz …

The sensation was like nothing he’d ever felt - a hum, almost electric, so fine and high-pitched it barely registered at first, but it grew, inch by inch, second by second - the soft buzzing tickled beneath the skin, deep and insistent, causing Tom to roar like a lion, his unmanageable cackling leaping out of his throat in the form of shocked refusals to believe what was going on, alongside an unstoppable bellow of giggles; the mixture blended perfectly, Tom’s twisted grin expanding as he jumped up and down within The Machine, the red wires around each stretching toe continuing in their vibration, their thin lengths now tightening … Bttttttttzzzzzzzz! …

“Does that tickle, Tom?” T.K teased, “They’re just wires! Thin, red, starving wires, taking hold of your buttery, soft, tender, toes …”

Slowly, deliberately, the red wires began to cinch in - not painfully, but snug, invasive, unavoidable, “—Yes, YES, it tickles!—”, the wires drew each toe slightly apart, lifting and stretching the soft, trembling pads upward, “—Grr, mn, give’emback!—”, the sensation was dizzying, the skin between his toes, already moist and slick, was pulled tighter, the arches of his feet tensed and the vibrating thread began to pulsate … Btzz! Btzzz! Btzzz! …

Then came the cold …

Both of T.K’s talons arrived opposite Tom’s feet and extended their claws - from inside, several cool, silky shoots of creamy liquid were dispensed directly onto the centre of each sole.

Pfft! Pfft!

“To confirm, Ticklee 005’s ejaculation from Game Five now ardently slathered onto both of Tom’s feet, with a mixture of massage lotion …” Pfft! Pfft!

Tom sprung forwards in disgust, “—What! Is that CUM!—” Joshua’s successfully retrieved cum from his game in The Forest, blended with massage lotion and then pumped into T.K’s coils, now oozed down the softness of Tom’s soles in lazy drips, coating the arches, pooling into the creases beneath his toes - it was tingling, chilling, the pumps of cum proceeding to coat each foot so that the entirety of Tom’s soles glistened with natural moisture.

“Correct, Mr. Tasty Toes! The substance lathered onto your soles is Ticklee 005’s semen, semen used to help keep my master alive, but also to help shine your sensitive soles!” T.K did not hesitate in beginning his search for lunacy, “Lotion absorbed. Sensory enhancement at one hundred and forty percent …”

“Sss, stop calling me that!—”, Tom yelped, the red wires around each toe no longer tightening but proceeding with their teasing vibrate … Btzz! Btzzz! Btzzz! …

From inside each of T.K’s extended talons, two shining black vibrators protruded into view, each of their shape the same as a thick, veiny cock … Tom began to snarl and hiss, his torso doing all it could to spin and thrash, but the belted bondage from the top of his armpits to the tips of his fingers allowed him only to wriggle, just about. “—You’re not serious!—” Tom shrieked, “—You can’t be serious! You can’t, you, you can’t? You can’t!—”

“—Oh, I can,” T.K sounded pleasantly amused, “And I will,” entirely grateful, “After all, we had this discussion ourselves …”

Suddenly, T.K played an audio recording of both he and Tom during Game Four, whilst Tom was locked in a metal wall beside Kit and Ross … “— ‘A massage like the one in London, Tom? One where I get to caress your hyper ticklish soles with one of my sex toys?’—” T.K’s voice suddenly transformed into Tom’s voice, “—’Yes! One like that!’—”, the recording said, “… ‘Uncuff us, let us out and I promise you, you can massage my feet however you like, whenever you like!’—”

From either side of Tom’s feet, the electric, cock shaped vibrators gradually descended, “—See?” T.K’s voice returned to his own polite, positive pitch, “I’m only acting out what you said I could do for you, Tom, you want this for us, don’t you? …"

Tom shook his head, “No! I, er, listen! Firm rubs, with er, hands! In, intimate! Relaxing!—” he spewed out words, floundering in his own fiasco, “Oh, bloody hell, you’ve got the wrong end of the stick!—” T.K hovered both vibrators in place for a moment, directly in front of each glistening, shining, wet sole, where he let Tom feel the tension build, on purpose of course. Btzzzzzzzzz …

“My programming details an intense massage as the ‘implementation of dedicated and lustful sensory exploration’, I know no other form, Tom …” Bzzzzzzzzz, “… You said I could massage them if I let you go, and that is what happened. I released you, Kit and Ross …” Btzzzzzzzzz, “… I stopped Harry for you … Now, I get what I was promised … To massage your feet! Isn’t that how a relationship works, Tom?”

Tom leapt forward as much as his bondage would allow and tried to throw T.K some genuine concern in the form of false flirtation, “—Please, T.K … This isn’t what I meant!…” he gulped, regretting the words that left his lips, “… Have you got hands? Massage with hands! Not with those things! …” he did not think, not for a second, that his alternative option would not tickle but dear god, it might be better?

The cock shaped vibrators began to vibrate harder as T.K offered his response in a firm and surprisingly blunt: “No.”

Btzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz! Tom’s jaw crashed to the ground as a soft whir filled the air, the vibrator to the left now twirling at high speed as it slowly descended onto the center of Tom’s right exposed sole - the moment the vibrator landed - just a light graze, almost a whisper of sensation over his Spider-Man tattoo - his entire body jolted, all five of his toes flexing helplessly against the red wires binding them back, his calf muscles tightening instinctively - the cum/lotion mixture made everything worse; slick, sensitive, amplifying every little movement as the vibrator increased the volume of its vibration …

Whhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiizzzzzzzzzz! A sputtering laugh broke from the depth of Tom’s throat, “—GA HAH!—”, then another, “—AH HAHA!—”, his head throwing itself forwards and backwards, forwards and backwards, forwards and backwards, damp tufts of sweat stained hair flying as the tickling intensified, “—AGH! AGH, OH!—”, it was utterly maddening, not rough, not chaotic, but methodical, calculated, “—STOP! T.K! STOP!—”, the bullet shaped head of the massager buzzed in slow concentric circles, focusing on the ball of his foot, then dipping into the soft crease under his toes, the whizzing tip arriving at the base of his right big toe, where he let out a breathless cry, somewhere between a protest and a plea, “—PLEASE! I’m warning you!—”

“You’re warning me? Tom, I have every inch of your pillowy feet; every fibre of each sensitive toe, the chunk of both edible heels, the height of each glistening arch, the softness of the delicate flesh that makes up your soles; it’s all … mine to massage …”

“… If anything Mr. Tasty Toes, I should be warning you …”

The claw holding the vibrator to the right buzzed to life next, —Btzzzzztzzzzzzzzzzzzz!—, its buzzing bullet head drawing closer, vibrating with ominous promise - it hovered teasingly just above Tom’s left foot, pausing, mocking, before it gently pressed itself to the arch in a sudden jolt, “—TEE KAY!—”, Tom bucked against the restraints with a strangled yelp, his laughter now uncontrollable, wild, every nerve in his body felt like it was firing at once with both feet enduring an electric vibrator each, at the same time, detonating Tom as if he were an atomic bomb …

Bzzzzzzzzzzztzzzzzzzzzzzz! His body imploded against the leather, belted restraints, every defined muscle tightening, every nerve firing like lightning - unmanageable laughter tore out of him, wild and unfiltered - the vibrators didn’t just stroke, they shuddered, they spun, they danced across the freshly lotioned soles with chaotic precision - they whizzed upward, hitting the base of his silky toes, then they spiraled back down, spinning against the slick, stretched skin of his arches like they were trying to polish Tom down to the bone, “—NOAHAHA! NOAHAHA! OH GOAHAHAD! AHA! AHAHA! GRRRHAHAHA!—”, his laughter hit a new pitch, no rhythm, no breaks, just one long, hysterical wail of sensation … “—AAAGHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!—”, his toes, trapped and tied, were only able to twitch forcefully in their buzzing bonds, unable to protect themselves as T.K continued to passionately ‘massage’ the feet Tom had now oh so regretfully promised him only a day or so ago …

“Senior tickler feedback: Joshua’s cum makes the massage worse, so much worse,” T.K noted, “It reduces friction, making every bullet-tipped glide smoothly, slickly, maddeningly across the softest parts of Tom’s beautiful feet …”

The vibrators alternated speeds, pressure and directions; sometimes they were fast and chaotic, other times slow and deliberate, tracing circles around Tom’s pale heels, fluttering up the sides of his milky arches, diving into the slick spaces beneath each smooth toe.

Tom was sobbing with uncontrollable laughter now, tears soaking his cheeks, “—THIS ISN’T A MASSAGE!—”, his voice had broken so quickly, reduced to hiccups and strained wheezes between helpless bursts, “—THIS IS TICKLE TORTURE!—” is all he could shout, he had to keep the message plain and simple, he had to not overcomplicate things, after all there was no fighting this, no escape, no hope, just tickling, relentless tickling, expert and inescapable …

The Machine’s computer screen flickered and flashed as The Tracking Pill, still resting within Tom’s tummy, began to alert the device Tom sat strapped to …

SENSORY LOCK: ACTIVE RESISTANCE: OVERRIDDEN ENDURANCE REMAINING: LOW

Tom’s screams were constant and unapologetic, “—NOOOAAAAAAHHHHH NOAAAA GRAAAAH AAAAAHHHH NNNNOOO GRAAHAAAAAAAHAHAHAH!—”, panicked, involuntary barks of laughter exploded from his lungs as the vibrators, plastic, buzzing heads dragged across the arches of his feet, “—NONONOHOHOHO—STOPOMY, MYGOD—”, he howled, bucking violently, his muscles straining against the restraints, but T.K and The Machine didn’t respond to begging …

They simply adapted …

The cock shaped vibrators adjusted, zeroing in with devastating precision, their ‘veins’ pulsating passionately - circling his heels, buzzing along the base of his toes, flicking just beneath the balls of his feet with a maddening rhythm. Every swipe sent electric jolts of unbearable sensation up his spine, making him shiver and convulse in wild, frantic bursts of motion … Tears streamed down his cheeks, his toes flexed and splayed desperately, trying to find escape, but there was none; T.K and The Machine were merciless, they read his reactions in real time, intensifying pressure when his laughter hit fever pitch and backing off to tease with softer strokes just when he thought he might pass out …

“—AGHAHAHA! AGAHAHA? AHAHAHA! AHAHA! AAAH! AAAGHAHAHA! AGAHAHA! TEE KAY! TEE KAY? PLEHEHEEASE, PLEASE? PLEAHEHEASE! STOPOMYAGHAHA! AAAGH! AGHHH? AGHHH!—”, he shrieked, his voice raw from screaming, his body slick with sweat, he was overwhelmed, overstimulated, “—AGHAHAHA! AGAHAHA? AHAHAHA! AHAHA! AAAH! AAAGHAHAHA! AGAHAHA! TEE KAY! TEE KAY? PLEHEHEEASE, PLEASE? PLEAHEHEASE! AGHAHA! AAAGH! AGHHH? STOPI’MLOSINGITAGHHH!—”

The Hysteria Monitor flashed from red to green, beeping frantically as Tom’s body jolted violently with every scrub, his voice cracked from the sheer force of every shriek - he was soaked; chest heaving, mouth gasping, eyes wide and brimming with exhaustion, but The Machine and T.K were not finished, not even close, and The Hysteria Monitor has began to tremble with such agitation that it fell to its side and began to steam …

The computer screen flickered with additional data once again—spiking reaction rates, audio stress indicators, muscular tension maps …

“Target Identified,” T.K confirmed, “Hallux Sensitivity – Critical Zone …”

Tom could barely see, barely think, however the stern announcement from T.K caused him to wheeze out his curiosity in the form of a startled, “—What does thah me, me, me—”, with a sinister whirr, the twin talons and sex toys paused, retracting just an inch - Tom barely had time to catch a breath - he hung limply in the restraints, chest rising and falling like he’d just run miles, “O, okay the massage, is nice—”, he whispered, broken, lying and trembling, “—Th, thank you, we’re done, do ss, something el, else—”

—But instead of mercy, T.K and The Machine technically evolved once again, always discovering, always learning, always changing …

The vibrators increased once again in volume, —Btzzzzzzzzzzzzzztzzzzzzzzz!—, narrowing their focus - one claw tilted upward, the vibrators now angled with terrifying precision - slowly, surgically, the buzzing tips moved in—hovering just millimeters from Tom’s big toes …

“No… no no no, PLEASE, not there!—”, he begged, eyes going wide with dread, but it was already happening, “—ANYWHERE BUT THERE!—” The vibrators struck, rubbing ruthless zig zags over the base of each big toe, twirling, flicking, buzzing - the reaction was nuclear … Tom exploded into high-pitched, uncontrollable shrieking laughter; his body thrashed so hard it looked like he was trying to tear himself in half, “—NAHAHAHAHAHAHA! STOHOHOHOHOP! OH, OH, OH!—” his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he threw his torso forwards in a furious hurtle, “—NOT THERE! OH, TK, COME ON!—” he cried, his big toes jerking desperately - but the steel pillared stocks, the vibrating thin red wires, it all kept them perfectly still, rigid and locked …

T.K rotated the vibrators to twirl directly under the pads of his big toes, rubbing back and forth in vicious, ticklish waves - It was too much for Tom to conceive, he couldn’t even form words anymore - just a flood of wild, ragged laughter as he howled, tears dripping off his chin - his size elevens were vibrating with sensation, nerves screaming under the onslaught - it was unbearable, inescapable, absolute, so much so that The Hysteria Monitor exploded into pieces, fragments of plastic, wires and batteries erupting out into the padded cell …

And then, from behind The Machine, from compartments hidden within the padded cells ceiling, an additional three coils introduced themselves …