Author’s note: To experience ‘Late Night With a Devil’ in its entirety, the videos and audio files contained within the chapter must be listened to in full, as you get to them.
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NBC Studios, The Rockefeller Plaza,
New York City
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“Listen, Tom, I have to tell you something …”
Tom kept his hands behind his back, his stance ready to go out on stage, the production team behind the blue curtains hushing an excited and seated audience of two hundred and forty.
“It’s going to have to wait, mate—”, he faced the curtain, the wall of blue inches in front of his nose, his only divider between whispered privacy and sudden, intense fame, “—Come find me after the show …”
Andrew stood behind Tom, his chest pressing against Tom’s back urgently.
“It’s important, I’m—” Andrew’s impatience was put on hold as Tom spun around to face him.
“—Oi, this is my first interview since …” his big brown eyes shifted from left to right, “… Since everything! We can have a chat later …”
He recognised the bite in his tone, the steel to his exterior - he softened up and dropped his elbows, placing both hands on Andrew’s shoulders.
“… We’ll go back to yours, alright? Do what we do?” He rubbed his thumbs over the surface of Andrew’s coat, “I promise, mate.”
As the spotlights beamed into position, Tom closed his eyes, stood on tip toes and kissed Andrew gently on the lips.
Andrew’s eyelashes collapsed as he welcomed the moment of intimacy, its one and a half second long life giving him enough reassurance before Tom broke it and went back to facing the curtain.
Andrew stepped into the shadows as the band started to play, where for now, he had no choice but to keep what he needed to say to himself.
After Jimmy had warmed up the audience, he introduced his first guest, “The one and only, Tom Hollaaaaaaaand!—”
As the blue curtain peeled apart, Tom stepped out onto the stage and reached his right hand into the air, waving at the audience who all stood cheering and whooping.
“Hi! Hello!” He felt the hem of his shirt lift a little, his hip exposed momentarily, “Thank you, thank you!—”, he quickly tugged it back down, over the waist band of his jeans …
“Come over here!” Jimmy practically ran towards Tom, taking him in a firm and friendly hug, the applause from the audience now so loud that some of the production assistants had to calm everyone down.
Tom’s smile beamed, his need for validation fulfilled once again, this time by a different kind of worship - this was not perverse, obsessive or physical, it was just pure and simple adoration.
Tom took a seat next to Jimmy’s desk as all five cameras lining the stage angled on him, the band now playing their introduction music into a gradual fade, allowing the show to official start …
> … kssssssshhhhhhhhh … <
“Oh uh, sorry about that everyone …”
Jimmy shot a confused look to the production team standing in the wings as they tried to figure out why the clip wasn’t playing, “ … I think there’s a little technical difficulty …” with professionalism at the forefront of his mind, Jimmy turned to Tom and asked, “Hey, why don’t you tell the audience yourself?”
Tom shuffled in his seat, the cozy navy of the stylised New York City skyline glowing behind him, as he faced the steep climb of hundreds, crossing his legs at the knee, always one to handle live television and the standard issues that came along with it rather well.
“So,” he grinned, “Last time Jimmy and I had a talk, I er … Well, let’s be honest, I lied …” he played his part in the process, entertaining the crowds ‘ooooooh!’ reaction with a guilty lower of his head as Jimmy looked at him dramatically, as if he were worthy of punishment, “Yup, I lied!” He held his hands up in surrender, “I know, I know … I said Andrew and Tobey weren’t going to be in the film and … Well, they were!”
The audience erupted in applause - almost all of the individuals in the crowd were able to recall the moments when Andrew’s Spider-Man stepped out of a glowing portal, shortly followed by Tobey’s, in the global box office, multiverse themed smash, ‘Spider-Man: No Way Home’ …
“And … “ Jimmy shuffled closer to Tom, “Speaking of Spider-Man …”
The first thing Tom saw as he peeled his eyes open was Timothée.
“Mate …” Tom’s eyebrows burrowed into a deep frown as he hid his face with his palms, “… Sorry, I er, I must’ve fallen asleep …”
Timothée knelt in front of Tom as their surroundings blurred into focus.
“It’s alright,” Timothée picked some stray cotton away from Tom’s knee, “You’re in and out …”
Tom’s hands slid away from his face, his head almost dropping over his chest - all of him felt heavy, his arms, his legs, even his fingertips …
“In an out?” Tom found himself sitting in an armchair in an apartment living room, where the sunshine from the windows glared over him like a spotlight, causing him to quint, “I, I thought I was …”
Suddenly, Tom felt hot - he went to stand up but Timothée forced him back down.
“—Hang on—”, Tom became flooded with urgency, as if he were missing out on something, as if he needed to be somewhere, “This, this isn’t right …”
Only now did he realise he was soaked in perspiration, an exhaustion explained the heaviness, the clothes he had worn to The Tonight Show were a little damp, some of his shirts buttons unpicked, a tiny microphone was still attached to his breast pocket …
He looked down at his feet, which he thought were covered with burgundy dress socks and white sneakers - instead, they were bare …
“He’s going to go again, I can see it …”
Tom did not recognise that voice.
It came from behind him, it sounded grainy, mature, coarse …
It was so commanding that it made Timothée stand up straight away.
“Max, I hate to say it,” Timothée admitted, “But the only person I know that’s dealt with this kind of stuff is …” he huffed, not wanting to dial the number, but the situation at hand nudged him closer to making the decision, “… He can help.”
Tom shot confused looks from Timothée to the stranger, from the stranger to Timothée.
“You’ve drugged me …” he went to stand again, his slur suggesting drunk, “… You’ve k, kidnapped me, from the, the show—”
This time, firmer hands forced Tom back in his seat.
“We didn’t kidnap you, kid,” Maxwell growled, “We saved you …”
Suddenly, Tom’s eye lids fell shut and he slumped back into his seat, where the sound of Timothée’s hurried concern was replaced by the deafening sound of applause …
“Now, we know what you’re like at keeping secrets …”
Jimmy winced at the audience, some individuals within the crowd chuckling, “It’s true, right, that some of your Marvel cast mates call you The Spoiler King …?”
Tom ducked his head sheepishly and nodded, “Yup, they do, they do, it’s err, a bit of a problem …” he straightened his spine and sat up, “… But not this time!—”, he pinched his lips and pretended to zip them up, “I’m not giving away anything …”
Jimmy smirked and cocked an eyebrow as he turned in his chair to look at the side of the stage, “Oh come on! I take it you’ve read the script?”
Tom bobbed his head, “I’ve read the script,” he confirmed, the audience cheering in excitement, “It’s wild, crazy, completely out of this world, unlike anything we’ve done bef—”, he sat up, his face animated in a glow of shock, “—See! I almost just did it!—”, he clamped his hands over his mouth, gagging himself, “—I’m ridiculous,” he spoke in a muffle.
The audience laughed as Jimmy shuffled his cue cards into a neat pile, “I think we can get some information out of him, huh?” He looked at the audience for support, “What do you think, guys?—”, he raised his voice, ramping up the curiosity, levelling up the momentum, “—Shall we play a little game? Shall we put his Spoiler King title to the test!—", the crowd fist pumped the air, they clapped and stomped their feet, their cheer so wild it pulled Tom’s mouth into a satisfied and overwhelmingly happy grin.
“You lot!” Tom played along with a part of the show he had not seen in the script he had approved just last week, “You’re gonna get me fired!—”, but he was entirely flexible when it came to ad lib and did not want to appear unwilling, so he openly went with the flow, “—Seriously, Kevin’s going to kill me …” he pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head.
“Ahh tell him to give me a call!—”, Jimmy kept his cue cards in one hand, whilst his other arm flew open, “—Now, without further ado, for the first time in The Tonight Show’s decade long history … Introoooooooooooducing …”
Tom kept his high spirited grin in place as he blinked through the chaos, his attempt at keeping his curiously entertained expression fixed now causing his left eye to twitch.
From the audience, the crowd saw a chuckling, fully engaged, excited to get involved celebrity guest - but behind Tom’s widening eyes existed a somewhat impressed yet intimidated clench of nerves that could only ask, ‘how have they managed to pull this off?’
The clapping felt endless, mocking, thrilling and oblivious - it lasted forever, as the sight of a leather seat on wheels, with wooden stocks attached to the bottom, was almost too casually rolled on set by two production assistants …
“What do you think about that, ladies and gentleman?” Jimmy held his hands out to ‘The Spoiler Seat’ as it arrived in the middle of the stage.
Tom watched the seat roll to a stop, his right thumb pressing against his chest, his voice having to deliver a shout over the volume of the audience, “Is that for me! Really!—”, he lifted himself up and away from his chair where he leaned over to Jimmy, gently taking hold of his wrist where he pulled him closer so that his lips pressed against Jimmy’s ear.
The audience persisted in their clap, their whoop, their whistle, whilst Tom soaked his tone in a humourless drench of seriousness, “—Are you with them?—”, he whispered pressingly, his ask going unnoticed by the hundreds, “—Did they put you up to this?—”
Jimmy jolted away from Tom, taken back by his sudden push of authority, “—What?—”, he looked at Tom with a genuine gape of confusion, unintentionally proving to him that he had no idea what Tom was talking about, “—It’s just a game, Tom …”
Tom’s lips flattened into a line as he remained beside Jimmy’s ear, his eyes taking in the objects behind Jimmy’s desk; the Bero beer Tom had created - a product he was here to talk about, to promote … The distraction he had thrown himself into since arriving back from Sweden …
Jimmy had no ulterior motive, no mask or hidden camera - could this actually be a total coincidence?
Tom slipped back into his role and grinned from ear to ear at Jimmy, patting his arm whilst jumping away from the desk as the audiences cheers gradually faded out.
“Alright, what do we have here then!” Tom rubbed his palms together as he hopped onto The Spoiler Seat and perched on the edge of the leather padding, crossing his legs at the knee like he had done a few times since the cameras started rolling - this position was always his ‘go to sit’, to show the world he was relaxed, when really, deep down, Tom felt anything but.
Jimmy, with cue cards still in hand, made his way to The Spoiler Seat as the spotlights beamed over it.
“This, Tom, is thing that is gonna make you blab! … It’s where we’re going to grill you on all the exciting details of your upcoming projects …” he unlatched the stocks and lifted the top half upward, “… In your case, it’s all the juicy stuff you know about Spider-Man 4 … Now, climb on in!—”
The band started to play an upbeat tune, using sax and drums as The Spoiler Seat was presented in all its glory; Tom took in everything about it, the reclining back of the chair, the velcro cuffs that would position his arms above his head, the rubber inline of the stocks holes that would secure his ankles … He had sat in something like this dozens of times before, unbeknownst to everyone in the studio, except one person …
The studio fell silent for a few seconds, beside a few random coughs, as Tom looked into the side of the stage where there was only darkness and a few other production assistants.
Behind them stood Andrew, with the blue curtain towering behind him, his face half lit by shadow.
Tom and Andrew exchanged a look; Tom’s false glee said, ‘what should I do?’ whilst Andrew’s solemn gaze said, ‘they’ve given you no choice’.
Andrew was right …
Tom could either bolt off stage and have a brand new focus on why he ran, jeopardising Bero and its brand; that sprint would put all his new movie projects at risk, all of the amazing opportunities that had come his way since Sweden …
Or, he could do as Jimmy said and just ‘climb on in’; push aside the ‘what if’, dampen out the paranoia, the intense search for masked men in the audience, submit, obey, to this unexpected convenience …
Tom sat in The Spoiler Seat and threw his hands up above him, landing his feet in the open stocks, the audience once again erupting in applause as he allowed the thrill of his decision to attach itself to his voice, “—Grill me, Jimmy!—”, he declared excitedly, showing ‘them’ that he would not be defeated, that actually, no matter how many tricks they through at him, he was the one in control …
“What a sport, such a champ!” Jimmy looked impressed, clapping Tom himself, as the production assistants that had wheeled in the seat worked their way around Tom in tying him into place, the audience applauding just as loud as before.
One production assistant strapped Tom’s left wrist above his head whilst the other did the same to Tom’s right wrist; once Tom’s arms were fixed above him, they closed the stocks and locked the latch, allowing Tom’s size elevens to bob on the other side.
“Okay! Alright!—”, Jimmy had to use his hands to ease the audience’s applause, “—Now, as the topic is Spider-Man 4, I’m gonna ask you four questions and we’re gonna use your weakness to try and get you to answer truthfully …” he turned mischievous and faced the hundreds seated opposite him, “… My weakness would be someone standing here with a chalk board, dragging their nails down the surface—”, Jimmy shivered on the spot, “—Made to endure that? I’d go nuts!—”, he turned to Tom, “—What’s your weakness, Tom?”
Tom performed his role, whilst also semi partnering an ounce of truth to his portrayal, “—It’s er, Umbrella, by Rhianna!—” the audience fell into laughter as Tom grinned, “—When that song comes on I just can’t help myself …” he winked knowingly to the viewers, “Puppies? Are you gonna interrogate me with puppies?—”, Tom shuffled in his seat as Jimmy wiggled his fingers, “—Ahh, Jimmy, mate! You better not do what I think you’re going to do …” he eyed the host with a threatening glare, some members of the audience offering a few ‘oooooohhhhhhs’ after Tom’s warning, and a warning was exactly what he intended it to be - in this very moment, Tom did not feel convinced that Jimmy was not under some form of bribery or manipulation himself …
“We gotta get those spoilers out of you, Tom! America wants to know! You know what else they wanna know? …” Jimmy turned to the large TV screen above the New York skyline behind his desk, “… This, everyone, is Tom’s weakness …”
When Tom turned his head to search for Andrew, he was gone.
As he looked back into the applauding audience, he wondered what the people at home were thinking whilst they watched this happen on their television sets …
Surprisingly, one thought landed in his head, a thought that he suddenly found himself saying out loud to Jimmy, “The people who have a thing for tickling are going to love this …”
Jimmy chuckled and ruffled up Tom’s head of hair with his hand, “You’re oing great, kid …” he spoke through a grin, before facing the audience with his cue cards in hand, “… Damn, you’re so ticklish, Tom … I gotta try this for myself!”
“Jimmy, no—”, Tom practically leapt in his seat as Jimmy’s fingertips barely grazed his left side, “—OI!—”, the same oi he had yelped in the video repeated in the same volume, throughout the studio, causing the audience to laugh in unison as Jimmy’s fingertips actioned a firmer jab into his waist, “—OI!—”, Tom hurtled away from Jimmy’s touch, The Spoiler Seat rattling under his jump, his weight landing in a heavy thud as he giggled into his chest and curled his fists into balls, “—Bloody hell!—”, he huffed.
“Yeah, this is fun!” Jimmy looked down at his first cue card, “And believe me, it’s only going to get funner …” he pursed his lips and cleared his throat as he read out his first question, “Here we go … Who is the main villain in Spider-Man 4 …” he made his way around The Spoiler Seat and arrived at Tom’s right side, “… The less you say, Tom, the more we’ll tickle you …”
Tom trailed his tongue over the edges of his top row of teeth as he offered a teasing look towards the audience that said, ‘I know, but I can’t tell you!’ - he squeezed his eyes shut, knowing what would be coming next, the more he held back the information, “Oh, this is so unfair!—”, he exclaimed breathlessly as Jimmy used the fingers of his free hand to dance across Tom’s chest, something that made the young actor arch his back and wheeze, but as soon as Jimmy arrived at his stomach, Tom found himself catapulting forwards in a desperate lunge that almost had him bursting out of The Spoiler Seat.
“—I don’t know!—”, Tom wanted to fold in two, “—Marvel will sack me!—”, he thrashed away from Jimmy in a violent twist, who had to take a step back and control his own laughter at the sight of someone so sensitive, someone so physically unable to cope with such light hearted tickling, “—Seriously, mate, you’re gonna make me swear on live TV …” Tom chortled through his nose, the audience chuckling along with him, “… Oh no, really?” Tom shuffled back into a slouch as he watched Jimmy approach his feet.
“He’s a tough nut to crack, huh guys?” Jimmy directed his question at the audience whilst picking the lace to Tom’s left trainer, “I’m gonna get at least one ‘you heard it here first’ moment, Tom, just you wait!—” once the laces dangled from Tom’s shoe, Jimmy began to tug it away from his foot.
“Confirming the film is actually happening wasn’t enough?—”, Tom’s long toes splayed into a much needed stretch as soon as Jimmy removed his trainer, “—Come on, mate, not my stinky feet!—”, the audience erupted in applause, “—They smell awful, believe me, you don’t want to to be touching these bad boys!—”, Tom tried his best to discourage Jimmy from touching his feet, whilst fully aware that they actually had no off-putting scent to them at all - he had showered only a few hours ago, his footwear and socks were purchased by his stylist only yesterday, “—They’re sweaty, Jimmy! Like, really sweaty …” his efforts caused the audience to grimace dramatically, even they knew someone as pristine looking as Tom would not have poorly kept feet.
Jimmy placed the shoe at the base of The Spoiler Seat and then held onto Tom’s left foot, an act in its own that caused Tom to jolt, “Dress socks, Tom? I wasn’t expecting that!—”, Jimmy trailed his index finger under Tom’s toes, “—I can almost see through them!—”
“I’m, I’m trying something new!—”, Tom explained - from behind the ultra thin burgundy material, the audience could see him curl his toes into a protective clench.
“—Alright, next question … Will there be any other MCU characters in the movie?—”, Jimmy drew a faint line towards Tom’s Spider-Man tattoo.
Tom’s feet stretched towards each other so quickly that the stocks creaked, “—No!—”, his ‘no!’ was a call to stop the tickling, not an answer to the question, “—I mean, yes!—”, he used his trainer covered foot to protect his left, however his feet were stocked too far apart, which made the act feel a little useless, “—No, I mean, gah!—”, Tom kicked into nothing as Jimmy inflicted the most delicate of scribbles across his heel, “—I’m so not allowed to say anything!—”, the dress socks Tom had been styled in did absolutely nothing in concealing the ticklishness of his foot, “—Nope, next question!—”, if anything, it felt just as bad as if he were sock-less, “—Please!—” his plead left his mouth in the form of a high pitched whine, his requirement to act out like it was his first time being tickled, like this, in one of these devices totally unnecessary - for Tom, every time felt like the first time.
Jimmy sighed and began to remove Tom’s right trainer, “It’s no good,” he yanked it away from Tom’s foot, both of his dress socked soles now facing the camera, the audience, the views, all of America, “I’m barely getting anything out of you …” he respectfully placed Tom’s footwear side by side on the studio floor and then headed back to Tom’s torso, “… Do you think I should get some help?” He glanced towards the audience as he began to unbutton Tom’s shirt, whispering to the young actor, “—You’re looking a little flustered, this’ll cool you off …” where he then draped the opening of the shirt either side of Tom’s upper body, exposing his impressive abs, broad chest and defined waist, a visual that caused almost everyone in the audience to woooooooooooo! and wolf whistle …
“Jimmy, mate—”, Tom sounded nervous, a feeling he had not felt in so long, “—Seriously,” he spoke in a hurried mutter, “Can we just talk about my beer, like we rehearsed?” He winced, “This is a little err, I feel a little silly …”
Jimmy brushed his knuckles under Tom’s chin, disregarding his reservations, “If I’d have told you we were gonna do this, would you have agreed?” They were now exchanging their words through hushed mumbles behind grins, “Be honest with me…”
Tom slumped into The Spoiler Seat and shook his head.
“Let’s roll,” Jimmy sneered, turning his attention back to the hundreds seated in the studio, “Alright everyone, let’s get that help … Welcoming our second guest … A very special individual and, a professional tickler …”
Tom’s eyes shifted cautiously to the left as he, for the first time, started to pull on his wrist restraints …
“… Please put your hands together, for Hypnooooooooooooo! …”
The studio lights began to flash in bright whites, blues and reds as the sound of thunder bellowed towards the audience …
Smoke erupted out from the corners of the studio, it exploded from the ceiling and the stage perimeter - the more wild the situation became, the more Tom leant into this exceptionally well timed set up - he wondered if the cameras were actually recording, if the rest of the world could actually see this, if Jimmy were actually himself, if the audience members were actually an audience, or were they paid participants - where’s Andrew? - Tom had to bury his overthinking as the rolls of smoke eventually greeted the soles of his flexing feet.
Jimmy sat back behind his desk and like some excited school boy, he pointed into the mist that had now gathered between him, Tom and the audience.
The smoke parted slowly, revealing a tall muscular figure dressed in leather trousers, a leather jacket and a knitted hoodie.
His identity was hidden by an aluminium, robotic looking skull mask, the hood tightly placed over his head - he wore laced up military boots, his gloved fingers curling in anticipation … If the Terminator had become a tickler, this is what he would look like.
The production assistants had informed the audience not to applaud, to help enforce the sense of mystery for those viewing from their couches at home - this created an eery silence around ‘Hypno’, as he stood still, straight and ready …
Tom rolled his eyes and shot a testing glare at Jimmy, “You’ve got one last chance,” he whispered, “Fess up, mate. What do they have on you? Was it Miller that called, or the old guy in the wheelch—”
“—Dude, it’s just a game!—”, Jimmy once again genuinely asserted the fact that he was clueless when it came to Tom’s random speculation, “—It’s just a game …”
Tom growled as he went to throw himself closer to Jimmy, to ask more, to get him to confess, but an additional rumble of thunder caused him to turn back to the hooded figure and his commanding presence.
Hypno removed a pocket watch from inside his jacket pocket.
The pocket watch was attached to a gold chain, a chain Hypno held tightly in his grasp.
He dangled it in front of Jimmy and Tom, the studio lighting shimmering off its expensive looking surface.
“Oh, cool …” Jimmy looked on in awe.
Tom clenched his teeth as he watched Hypno approach him, his military boots thud, thud, thudding across the stage floor as he did so.
“So, tell us about yourself, Hypno …” Jimmy could not take his eyes of the aluminium skull adorning this strangers face, “Where are you from? How did you get so many followers on tiktok? How did you learn to become such a bad ass tickler? What—”
“—What’s the time?—”, Tom interrupted bluntly, his narrowed eyes boiling at Hypno and his watch, “—Time we cut, I think! No more cootchie coo’s, aye? …”
Hypno tilted his head, the leather of his jacket squeaking.
He then pocketed his watch and knelt at the base of The Spoiler Seat, signalling that he was ready to inflict his torment by removing both of his gloves.
Tom’s feet stiffened as he shuffled forwards and tried to peer over the stocks, but all he could see was the top of Hypno’s hood, clouds of smoke and hundreds of entertained faces observing his predicament.
Jimmy shaped his mouth into a tiny ‘o’, “—Ah! Not much of a talker. Alright, okay. Uh, I’ll do the asking …” he coughed into his fist, “… Oooh this is a good one,” he looked at his cue cards, “And this time, Tommy boy, you can’t lie—” Jimmy had to pause on delivering his question, due to the exceptionally impactful yelp from Tom, as Hypno began to fiercely scribble his fingernails over the sole of Tom’s right foot.
Tom's dressed socked feet twisted inward in the blink of an eye, “—Oh, give me some warning, mate!—”, his big toes touched as he leapt upward, his butt propelling from his seat, the device he sat bound to shaking and creaking with every leap, “—OI! He hasn’t even asked me yet!—”, his mouth opened in disbelief as a huge blast of laughter erupted from the depths of his stomach, as soon as Hypno increased the strength of his scribble, “—Oh noahahahahah! Noaahahahahahah! Noahahahahah! Noahahahahah!—”, he flew from side to side and cackled desperately, the volume of his ticklish-ness leaving his mouth uncontrollably as Hypno continued his scribble, now working his way across Tom’s Spider-Man tattoo, “—Stoahahahahahahahap oahahahahahahaha comeohahahahahahahahahaahahahn noahahahahahahahah!—” Tom’s feet continued to flex and twist, to flap and stretch, “—Ask me ask me ask me ask meahahahahahahahahahahaha stoahaahahahahahahahahahahap!—”, Tom would say anything to make this stop, he would answer truthfully just to get Hypno’s fingernails away from his right foot, whilst Jimmy finally provided his next question, in the form of a shout, thanks to the magnitude of Tom’s loud distress.
“Will Andrew and Tobey be in Spider-Man 4…” Jimmy asked.
“Jesus Christ …” Jimmy found himself cupping his mouth in shock, “… Kid, you really are hella ticklish …”
Hypno pinched the tip of Tom’s dress sock and pulled it away from his right foot.
The thin material glided away effortlessly, it’s peel fast and swift as Tom breathlessly tried his best to keep it on by using the toes of his left foot to snatch at it, “Mnn!—”, unfortunately for Tom, the strength of his toes failed and the sock left his foot, revealing a now exceptionally ticklish bare sole for the rest of the world to feast upon, as the cameras continued to roll.
A startled gasp left Tom’s lips as his tickle torment levelled up - the dress sock was removed so quickly that he didn’t even have the time to verbalise his concern.
Before Tom could catapult forwards in alarm, as Hypno extended his index finger towards the base of Tom’s naked, right big toe, Jimmy patted the side of his hand against the base of his palm.
“Ok, ok, break, break, break!—”, he stepped away from his desk as the studio lights brightened and some of the production assistants from the side of the stage made their way towards Tom, “—I think he’s had enough, it was only meant to be a little fun …”
Hypno sighed through his mask and stepped away from Tom’s foot, as the production assistants gathered around Tom and started to wheel him off stage.
“Ugh,” Tom’s head fell over his chest, “Thank god …” relief washed over his face at first, only to be followed by a scrunch of confusion, “… That Hypno sod is evil … Time to untie me, right?” His wrists remained cuffed above him, his ankles still stocked, “Can I er, can I get my shoes back?”
Tom wobbled in The Spoiler Seat as it was wheeled into position at the side of the stage, out of sight, back behind the blue curtain, the audience now standing to either use the restroom or check their iPhones as the live recording paused, mostly for sound tests and make up checks.
Tom reached his head towards his left wrist cuff and began to bite into it, in an attempt to free himself, “—Bollocks—”, he snarled, some of the hair stylists and make up team now gathering around him, ignoring his bound position, more interested in adjusting his hair and stroking his face with make up brushes, “—Get off!—”, Tom twisted his head and flinched, “—Stop touching me!—”, he wriggled in his seat, unable to move as the team surrounding him persisted in applying concealer under his eyes, hair spray to his brown tufts of hair, bronzer to his cheeks; some of the team even started to playfully tickle Tom’s toes with their make up brushes, causing him to jump, “—Oi!—” …
“—Back off—”, Andrew used his hand to politely, yet assertively, push the attention away, where he then stood beside Tom and held onto his right forearm, “—How are you doing? Are you alright?”
Tom looked at Andrew as if he were a gift, “Andrew! Finally, where’ve you been, mate?” He sounded a little panicked, a little skeptical, “Are you Hypno? You were gone as soon as he …” Tom licked his lips, his suspicions falling from his mouth at a million miles per hour, “… It’s them, isn’t it? They’re doing this on purpose, exposing me, embarrassing me …” he thumped his head against the back of the chair, “… Ahhh I should never of smacked the big guy! I just want to promote my bloody beer!—”, he whined.
Andrew shook his head, “No, don’t be silly. I’m not Hypno, I have … No idea who that guy is …” he tightened his grip over Tom’s arm, reassuring him, “… This really isn’t how I expected things would turn out,” he scoffed, “But you’ll be fine, you always are, the show can’t go on forever …”
Tom read Andrew’s face, his brown eyes searching for clues, for information, for some truth in all this, “This is not a coincidence,” he declared firmly, “Someone is behind this and I swear to god I’m going to find out who, and I’m—”
“—Yeah, we’ll figure it out. Listen, I really need to talk to you, at some point,” Andrew looked sad, he avoided Tom’s gaze, “I, I have something to tell you and …”
Tom’s attention trailed to shadows against the curtain - he turned his head to the side and looked far down the hall, where the blue curtain made up the walls of a corner of the back stage area, where only one door and a glowing exit sign above framed both Jimmy and Hypno whispering together.
Hypno had his back to Tom, his right hand lifted, ‘showing’ Jimmy his dangling pocket watch, whilst Jimmy nodded quickly, smirking, grinning, agreeing, approving things …
Tom narrowed his eyes as Andrew waffled on behind him, his want to speak with Tom about something important fading into nothing as Tom wished he could lip read.
Suddenly, Jimmy caught sight of Tom and made his way towards him, leaving Hypno to slowly slide between the blue curtain.
“Tom! Buddy!” He patted Tom’s right foot, “You’re incredible, honestly, we’ve never done something like this before and I gotta tell you—”
“—Untie me, Jimmy …” Tom spoke so sternly that it sent shivers up Andrew’s spine, “—It was funny at first and now it’s just … It’s daft, alright? It’s bloody daft.”
Jimmy chuckled and lifted his shoulders, a little insulted by Tom’s approach, “—Uhm, no? We’re gonna continue, kid. We just checked the ratings for the past fifteen minutes and they are through the roof …” he even tightened up Tom’s cuffs, “… A lot of people out there are tuning in, around five million was our last count … All of America are lapping this up, Tom!”
Tom hissed a frustrated, “—Fuck!—”, through gritted teeth.
Andrew moved towards Jimmy and adjusted his collar and tie, “Go easy on him, alright? He’s the most ticklish person I know. And that Hypno chap doesn’t look like he plans to play nice …”
Tom’s mouth fell open, “Mate! You’re meant to be helping me get out of this, yeah?”
Jimmy allowed Andrew to tidy him up, “He’s thinking the same as me, kid. He knows we don’t have much choice …” once Andrew had finished sorting out his collar, Jimmy straightened up his blazer and made his way back on stage, “… And quite frankly,” he said, whilst passing Tom, “Neither do you …”
Tom’s eyes bulged open.
There it is.
Proof that someone, something, was puppeteering everyone, everything …
Tom went to tell Andrew how he felt, what he thought they should do, but as he went to address him, he realised Andrew was gone.
The only thing that remained of Andrew was his voice, arriving at Tom’s ears in the form of a whisper.
“… Whatever they ask you to do next, for the love of God, say no …”
“Andrew?” Tom looked from side to side, several production assistants returning to him, “Andrew?” This time, he called out louder.
Tom was then reluctantly wheeled back to the stage, the audience once again cheering loudly, applauding him as the production assistants positioned The Spoiler Seat back in front of the cameras.
Tom faked a smile and waved his hands the best he could, the cuffs keeping them at the top of the chair …
… As Hypno stood there waiting, the eyes of his skull boiling a pale blue.
A cheery televised set up labelled as a bit of fun wasted no time in transforming itself into a full blown assault on Tom’s physical senses as soon as Tom noticed Hypno looping a tight length of string around his right big toe.
“Oh, as if!—”, the idea of having his foot fixed into place sent him into a frustrated frenzy, “—You lot are seriously taking the mickey now—”, Hypno did not tie the rest of his toes, he allowed them to curl and stretch, happy to just have Tom’s big toe attached to the top of the stocks, “—Can’t we just have a chat?—”, Tom thrashed in his bondage as Hypno whipped away his left dress sock, dropping it to the floor, tucking another tight loop of string around Tom’s left big toe, “—This is a bloody talk show after all!—”
“Have you always been this ticklish, Tom?” Jimmy sat at his desk and sipped a mug of coffee, “I mean, it’s kinda extreme, right? God only knows how your feet are gonna handle this Hypno dude …” the audience laughed along with him, “… He looks a little obsessed with them …” he looked down at his cue cards and shuffled them into a neat pile, “… Okay, next attempt at getting a spoiler from you …”
Tom winced as all eight of his untied toes splayed, Hypno’s left index finger pointing towards the bare sole of Tom’s right foot, where a sharp claw automatically extended itself from the tip of Hypno’s index finger.
It extended to such a length that the sharpness of it’s point made the slightest of impact against Tom’s Spider-Man tattoo, causing the young actor to gulp and twitch his foot to the right, the toe tie creaking as he did so.
“Oh god, oh bloody hell, oh fuck—”, Tom could barely contain his words, his throat thick with a heightened sense of alarm.
In Hypno’s other hand was his pocket watch, which he lifted into the air, allowing it to dangle from the chain - the move was a move of authority - it made Jimmy press his lips shut, to pause on asking his next question, whilst everyone in the studio, the audience as well as Tom, were forced into a concentrated silence.
For the first time since arriving here, Hypno spoke.
“When I click my fingers …”
Hypno presented his greatest of skills to the audience behind him …
“You will have no memory of your feet ever being tickled, nor will you have any knowledge of how ticklish they are …”
Tom felt unable to blink as he followed the watch and its sway, unaware of how far his mouth had fallen open.
Dazed and now under full hypnosis, Tom could only nod, just once, as the watch took control of his mind.
“Jimmy, please join me …”
Hypno clicked his fingers.
Click!
Unbeknownst to the live studio audience, Jimmy had been under hypnosis since he arrived in his dressing room, where Hypno had been seated at his dressing table, waiting for the host patiently - so, when Hypno provided his request, no, his order, Jimmy stood immediately from his desk and scampered towards The Spoiler Seat, where he arrived at Hypno’s side, both ready to toy with Tom’s toe tied, bare feet.
Just as Jimmy went to inflict his own form of torment, Hypno snatched his hand and held it still.
Hypno allowed the second command of hypnosis to sink into Tom’s mind, as Tom sat slouched in The Spoiler Seat, his new mind set now part of his personality.
His feet became untouched, all memories of them ever being tickled erased entirely - he had no idea what it felt like, to have them stroked, jabbed, poked or tickled this intensely - for now, all he could do was sit up and adjust himself, sniff up some exhaustion, whilst frowning at the stocks locked around his ankles, his only ‘knowledge’ regarding his levels of sensitivity being how ticklish he was everywhere else, the only ‘tool’ he could use to help make him semi aware, to help provide some form of conscious concern on how tightly bound into place his feet were.
“What are you going to do?—”, Tom tried to tug his big toes free, gasping and huffing as he did so, “I’m serious, this doesn’t feel good at all!—”, his feet felt exceptionally bare, hyper exposed, super vulnerable, “It’s not funny!—”, he whined as the audience, who all laughed at his confused despair, “Really! You’re seriously filming my feet? On live television?—”
Hypno tested his powers by simply asking Tom, “Have you ever had your feet tickled before, Tom?”
Tom shook his head frantically, “No! Err, why would you ask me something like that?—”, both of his creamy white, juicy soles faced the cameras, “—Is that your idea of fun?—”, his hypnosis did not render him stupid, he was still able to predict specific outcomes, “—I’d reeeeeeeally rather you didn’t!—”
“—Oh, it should be fine …” Jimmy partnered with Hypno on the verbal teasing, “… It’s just a little tickling, right?”
Tom’s feet twitched in anticipation, “On live tele!—” he whimpered, “This is so embarrassing! And for free? Bloody hell!—”
Hypno showed Jimmy his clawed index finger, where Jimmy’s eyes felt magnetised to follow it - showing him his finger simply said, ‘copy me’.
Jimmy nodded like some keen to impress minion - he then followed Hypno’s move and journeyed his own index finger towards Tom’s left sole whilst Hypno travelled his clawed index finger to Tom’s right.
Suddenly, both index fingers made impact with Tom’s soles, where they began to draw a slow, gentle but non stop circle.
Tom’s eyes bulged open as he began to giggle with strained strength, the hyper sensitivity created by the lightest of touch against the bottoms of his feet taking him extremely by surprise, his feet curling inward as one finger became two, two fingers became three, the string around Tom’s big toes always stubbornly keeping his feet in place …
“—Hahah, hehehe, mnn, ohahah, heheh, stop, ahahaha, oh! Ahahah, okay, stop, hahaha, ahaha, hey, oi, stop … Stop! Ahahaha, ahahah, mnn, mnn, okay it, it tickles, they’re, they’re ticklish!—”
As Hypno and Jimmy increased their pressure as well as the speed of their scribble, Tom’s giggles twisted into high pitched, explosive laughter, which only increased in volume and pitch the more both of his feet were tickled in unison …
“—Oh! Oh! Hahaha! Haahahah! Hahahaha! Hahahahah! Aahahahaha! Stop! Ahahahahah! Ahahahah! Okay! Ahahahahah, ahahahaha! Okay! Okay! Aahahahahah, stop! Ahahahahah! Ahahahah, please! Ohahahaha! Ahahahaha, noahahahah!—”
As they journeyed their touch from heel to toe, toe to heel, heel to toe, Tom still thought that maybe it would reach a level where the intensity would conclude, but as they seconds went by, Tom realised that the ticklishness he felt at the bottoms of his feet only got worse and worse and worse …
“—Ohahaha! Stop! Oahahah! I can’t take it! Hahahaha! Enough! Ahahahaha! Okay! Alrighahahahahahhahahahahah!—”
Now, he was a mindless, cackling, leaping shambles that could not sit still, his face glowing red as he howled and screamed into the stocks, completely mind blown by this discovery, this new knowledge …
“—AHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHA! OH STOAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP! NOAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAH, STOAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHP PLEAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHASE! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA OH, OH, HOAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!—”
Tom’s hysteria flooded out into the studio, as well as all of the homes watching The Tonight Show on their television sets, hysteria that gradually got louder, more manic, more desperate and more breathless with every actioned scribble …
… As soon as Hypno and Jimmy inflicted a dedicated focus to both of Tom’s big toes at the same time, Tom lost any management of his reactions and no longer found the ability to beg or plead as the uncontrollable cackles took over his throat, his mind, his entire psyche - all he could do was expel an unfathomable amount of anguish and joy in the form of a non stop, almost cartoonish, squeal-like bombardment of roars, racket and commotion.
“—NOAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA STOAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHP STOAAAAAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAP NOAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA SSSSTOAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAH—”
Tom became a dribbling mess as Jimmy and Hypno tickled both of his big toes at the same time - his mind fooling him into thinking they had never been tickled before - “—Not my big toes not the big toes no, no, no!—”, Tom sucked in some air through lips shaped into a small ‘o’, “—They’re so ticklish! You have to stop!—”, such an explosive a new piece of knowledge made the ordeal all that much worse, “—PLEASE, I’LL DO ANYTHING, JUST STOP TICKLING ME, STOP TOUCHING THEM!—”, Tom had not begged like this with The Major, he had not felt this desperate in all of the assessments he faced in Sweden, “—NOAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOAHAHAHAHAHA!—”, but the spell he had fallen under had turned him into a convinced, foolish lunatic.
Suddenly, Hypno raised his hands and clicked his fingers.
Click!
Both Tom and Jimmy’s eyes fell shut; Jimmy dropped to the floor and took a nap, whilst Tom’s explosive laughter suddenly went on mute as he slouched in his seat, breathless and now blinded, aware but totally unaware as Hypno continued to finger through his mind.
Another click of the fingers, this time twice and only directed at Tom.
Click, click!
Tom opened his eyes and heaved in deeply, as if bursting through the surface of water - he refilled his lungs with air, his nostrils flared, his face hot, his cheeks glowing pink …
The bottoms of his feet tingled, the pads of his big toes felt itchy, he sat up and tried to tug at his wrist restraints once more, his brain feeling tight and numb as the faces in the audience stared back at him silently - everyone seemed a little shocked at the sight on the stage, the sounds erupting from Tom, who, whilst locked in the large-ness of The Spoiler Seat, appeared so vulnerable, so small, his height only five foot seven …
Tom hesitated on saying his most defenseless set of words yet, a needy line caught at the base of his tongue that simply said, ‘I want to go home’ …
He shaped his mouth, ready to say it out loud, before Hypno moved around the stocks and took a step to his left side, silencing Tom with his glare.
“You have sold yourself to a tickle cult, haven’t you, Tom?”
Tom blinked and chuckled in disbelief as he looked at an observing audience, the production team, he tried to search for a missing Andrew, who he now needed more than ever, and rather urgently …
“What? No. What?”
“You have signed contracts, submitted yourself, obeyed … All for career development, since May 2003 …”
Tom looked into his lap and swallowed down an overwhelming sense of horror as the cameras continued to film his terrified expression.
“Admit it, to America, The World … Admit how involved you were, so much so you felt the need to run, only to learn to return. Or I continue, for another five hours …”
Tom squeezed his eyes shut, “I, I can do it,” he nodded firmly, “I, I’d rather do five hours than …” it was then he realised he had been tricked - simply submitting to five hours of televised tickle torment, instead of admitting something, proved that he had something to admit.
The audience whispered between each other, some lifted their iPhones to take pictures, whilst some jumped straight onto social media …
From behind his mask, Hypno chuckled.
“They tried so hard to catch you, for almost twelve months … And I just did it in a second.”
Tom sank into his seat, his cuffs keeping his hands and arms above him.
“F, fine, yeah, I’ve done things …” he did not exclaim that others had too, he did not divulge in names or scenarios, he just took the bullet for everyone and faced Hypno head on, “… Alright? There. You’ve got me. Now let me go.”
“You enjoy it, mn? You love the thrill. You’ve cum over it before …”
Tom’s face boiled as he continued to look Hypno directly in the eye.
“ … Stop …” he warned.
Hypno remained still, poised, never taking his eyes off Tom.
“Sometimes, loving the thing we hate is just senseless, and nothing else.”
Tom pursed his lips and finally looked away from Hypno, mostly in disappointment in himself.
Members of the audience continued to whisper between each other, discussing and debating the shocking revelations of tonights show as Jimmy slept on the floor.
“Talk for me …” Hypno clicked his fingers at Jimmy, who woke up quickly and scrambled to his feet.
“Yes, master?” Jimmy looked at Hypno eagerly.
“Speak, muppet,” Hypno ordered, clicking his fingers again.
Jimmy’s pupils grew in size as his hands dangled at his sides, an expressionless mask saturating his face.
With his eyes now entirely black, he turned to Tom and spoke in a monotone voice, communicating with him for Hypno, who now remained silent, taking a step back behind Jimmy.
“This isn’t live …” Jimmy admitted, “… It’s recorded …” he spoke slowly, carefully, his eyes never blinking, “ … Everyone in this studio, the production team, the audience, they are also under hypnosis. Under my command, they will forget everything I’ve just said, after a click of my fingers …” he quoted The Major, “… Like he once proclaimed, ‘this isn’t their world, it’s mine’ …”
Hypno began to walk towards Tom, where he then positioned himself behind The Spoiler Seat.
Tom slid deep into his chair and moaned, as soon as Hypno’s fingertips made their way under his shirt and towards his underarms.
“Agree to join The Games, and the recording is destroyed …” Hypno’s fingers made impact with armpit hair, “… Decline, and the recording airs tonight …”
As soon as Tom felt the touch penetrate his armpits, he hurtled forwards and, without hesitation and with no further details on ‘The Games’, what they were, when they would happen, what he would be required to do, he yelped out a committed, “—YES, OKAY!—”, an act that showed Hypno and the audience how keen Tom was to keep the events of tonights show a secret.
Jimmy’s eyes went back to normal as he rubbed the back of his head and frowned.
Hypno slid his hands out from under Tom’s shirt and then held onto his jaw, forcing him to face him.
“That smack was heard all over the world. Every house, every masked tickler, every member of The HOWF felt it …”
Tom watched Hypno’s pale blue eyes glow - his own eyes widened, his mouth falling open again.
“They were always going to make your joining process memorable … But this has been something else … And the best part about it is …?”
As Tom fell under another daze, Hypno clicked his fingers.
Click!
Tom woke up.
He sat in a tickle chair, wearing a bow tie, trousers and sheer socks, his hands tied above him, his ankles in stocks.
His mouth felt dry, his head ached, he looked around what appeared to be a dimly lit London flat as rain tumbled over a sky light above.
Hypno stood before him as a gentle rumble of thunder echoed around Tom.
He held onto his skull mask and lifted it away from his head - he revealed two things; it was not a mask at all, it was a helmet.
The second reveal was his identity.
“It isn’t over yet,” said Harrison.
____
