W E S T H O L L Y W O O D
Asher drove at a steady speed through West Hollywood, his right hand resting over the steering wheel whilst his other hand tucked into some McDonald’s fries laid out out in their open wrapping on the passenger seat beside him.
As he chomped down on the fast food, a police siren began to sound off behind him.
Asher’s green eyes shot up to the windscreen mirror, where he watched a police car arrive behind his humvee, the siren lights now flashing red and blue.
“Shhhhhhhhit—”
Asher swallowed down the fries and then wiped salty fingers against the grey hoodie covering his chest, his jaw falling open as the police car began to nudge closer to the back of his vehicle.
“Alright, alright—”
Asher pulled over to the side of the road, nerves now making his palms sweaty and his throat dry whilst the cold air con from the humvwee continued to blow into his face.
He gulped, his eyes still staring at the windscreen mirror as he watched two cops get out of their police car.
As Hollywood traffic rolled past, Asher curled both hands around the steering wheel and cleared his throat, readying himself to be calm, polite and sensible … Three things he usually wasn’t very good at …
The first cop arrived at the driver window whilst the other cop arrived at the passenger seat window.
The first thing Asher noticed about each cop was that they could be twins; their facial features were almost identical, they were, of course, dressed in the same uniform, but even their body shape and choice of sunglasses were the same …
Cop No. 1 knocked his knuckles against the window beside Asher’s face.
Asher took anxious hands to the controls within the door and pressed a firm index finger down over a button.
Bzzzzzzzzzzz …
The window slid downward, allowing Cop No. 1 to rest his elbow through the gap.
“Drivers licence,” Cop No. 1 ordered, his face staring down the road Asher had just driven up.
Asher blinked, nodding quickly as he reached into the pockets of his hoodie, retrieving his wallet.
He fingered through credit cards, receipts and dollar notes until he located his drivers license, Cop No. 2 now casually strolling around Asher’s car as he assessed the vehicle.
Asher handed his drivers license to the cop, who took it and then eyed its details through his aviator shades.
He then handed the square piece of plastic back to Asher.
“Imma need you to step out of the vehicle, Mr. Angel …” Cop No. 1 moved back, making room for Asher.
Asher felt his heart sink.
“Is uh, is everything okay, officer?”
“Step out of your car, Mr. Angel,” Cop No. 1 placed his hands on his hips, “And it’s sir, not officer …”
Asher nodded quickly and opened up his car door, “Yes, sir,” stepping out quietly as Cop No. 2 arrived beside Cop No. 1.
Both cops eyed Asher from head to toe.
His hair was neatly quiffed, almost as if someone else had styled it for him.
He wore a baggy hoodie and seemingly nothing else underneath - a questionable choice, considering the current heatwave …
Basketball shorts covered him from the waist down whilst tanned, hairy legs trailed down to bright white socks, his choice of footwear being high top Adidas sneakers.
Asher shuffled awkwardly on the spot as he reluctantly allowed The Cops to gaze over him.
“Open the trunk, Mr. Angel,” Cop No. 1 adjusted the sunglasses over the tip of his nose as Cop No. 2 kept his eyes on Asher.
Asher raised both eyebrows as he slowly made his way towards the back of the car, totally confused as to why the police would want to search his vehicle, “Uh, shh , sure, sir …”
Asher tugged at the handle and allowed the boot to swing upward, revealing nothing but a gym bag, basketball and unlaced pair of sneakers in the back of the trunk.
Cop No. 1 patted Asher’s arm, suggesting he move aside, as Cop No. 2 reached into the boot and picked up the basketball.
Asher stepped away, scratching the back of his head as he unsuccessfully tried to make small talk with the cops.
“It’s uh, it’s hot, right guys? I had to get myself a McDonalds milkshake just to cool me down, ha ha … ha—”
“—You shouldn’t eat fast food, Mr. Angel,” Cop No. 2 twirled the basketball over the tip of his right index finger, “It’s bad for your heart, and it’s not good for a healthy, athletic young man like yourself …”
Asher dropped both hands at his sides in a useless dangle as Cop No. 2 carefully placed the basketball back in the trunk.
Cop No. 1 picked up one of Asher’s sneakers by the lace where it dangled between he and Asher.
“They stink,” Cop No. 1 declared, “And they’re size nine.”
Asher chuckled nervously, “Uh, yeah,” he blinked, his mouth stretching open, “Uhh! I, I mean, yeah they’re size nine, not, not yeah they stink, I, I don’t have stinky fe—”
—Cop No. 1 dropped the sneaker back into the trunk as Cop No. 2 picked up Asher’s gym bag.
“Anything in here we should be concerned about, Mr. Angel?” Cop No. 2 asked.
Asher felt a thin layer of sweat develop beneath his hoodie as the L.A heatwave continued to beat down over him.
“N, no, sir, uh,” Asher ran a hand through his hair, “Just, just some work out clothes, some old socks, my underwear …” he laughed, his eyes shifting from Cop No. 1 to Cop No. 2, his attempt at trying to get them to avoid searching through personal things inside his bag failing miserably.
“You sure about that, Mr. Angel?” Cop No. 1 unzipped the gym bag currently held within the hands of Cop No. 2.
Asher frowned as he watched Cop No. 1 reach inside the bag.
“Officer, uh, sir, it’s just a gym bag, it’s …” his eyes widened when Cop No. 1 pulled out a tiny plastic bag filled with pot.
Both Cop No. 1 and Cop No. 2 slowly turned their heads so that they faced Asher.
Asher could see his shocked reflection in their sunglasses.
“That … That isn’t mine …” Asher placed his right hand over his mouth, whispering out the words, “… Holy shit …” into his palm, “… Seriously? This is a joke, this, this is a joke, right? Holy …” Asher started to look over his shoulder, ready for the cameras to reveal themselves, for James Cordon or some other predictable celebrity presenter to declare he had been pranked, “… No, this is fucked, there’s no way I—”
“—Probably not the best time to be cursing, Mr. Angel,” Cop No. 1 warned.
Asher lowered his head.
“Sorry,” he said quickly.
Cop No. 1 cleared his throat, “Sorry …?”
Asher blinked, running his tongue over the roof of his mouth, “Sorry … Sir …”
Cop No. 2 dropped the gym back back in the trunk, where he then took out a notepad and pen from his back pocket.
“Possession of marijuana is punishable by up to one year in jail, Mr. Angel,” Cop No. 2 explained, writing down the details of the event as he spoke …
“Do you want to go to jail, Mr. Angel?” Cop No. 1 finished Cop No. 2’s sentence for him, “Theres a long, long list of things the inmates at Los Angeles Central jail would want to do to a handsome young man like yourself …”
Asher tried not to animate his hands as he spoke, but his passionate innocence caused him to regardless.
“Sir, believe me, seriously, that isn’t mine! I, I swear to God, I don’t do drugs! I literally can’t do drugs because, because of my job! Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. You know? Not that I, not that I do want to, I, I, I mean, I totally, one hundred percent don’t want to, or do them, at all, I, I, I—”
Asher pressed his lips shut as soon as he realised the depth of the hole he had started to dig.
“You have pot amongst your personal belongings, Mr. Angel,” Cop No. 1 didn’t hesitate in presenting his words with an authoritative tone, “Within the trunk of your own vehicle. The evidence couldn’t be any clearer …”
“Someone dropped it in by mistake!” Asher provided his defence in a loud shout, “Someone at the, the gym! Or, or someone put it there, I, I—”
“—Please keep your voice down, Mr. Angel,” Cop No. 2 pocketed the note pad, placing the pen carefully behind his ear, “A Schedule One substance has been found within a bag you have confirmed, in person, to be your own, which means there is a high probability that at some stage you garnered control over the substance …”
Asher’s mouth fell open.
“What? …”
Cop No. 1 slid his handcuffs out of their holster.
“You have the right to remain silent and refuse the answer of questions,” Cop No 1 began to move behind Asher, “If you give up the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law …”
Cop No. 2 grabbed Asher’s shoulders and spun him around, “Hands behind your back, Mr. Angel…”
“Guys! Seriously, come on, I’m telling you—” Asher resisted at first, entirely overwhelmed by disbelief at his current circumstance, “—it’s not mine! I swear to God, this is f—” he bit his lower lip, stopping himself from cursing, stumbling on the spot as he was fixed into position by Cop No. 2.
Asher closed his eyes and breathed in slowly as the feeling of cold steel arrived at his wrists.
Click!
Asher stood handcuffed, looking down at his feet as Cop No. 1 used his walkie talkie to report the arrest.
Cop No. 2 placed his hand on Asher’s back as he led him towards the police car, pulling open the back door, carefully handling Asher into the back seats …
“This is so screwed up,” Asher muttered to himself, ducking his head as he slid into the back of the police car.
He narrowed his eyes at both officers, who climbed back into the car, Cop No. 1 seated in the drivers seat, Cop No. 2 seated in the passenger seat.
Together, at the same time, their bodies squeaked over the seats leather as they turned around to face Asher, sunglasses still on.
“We’ll break it to you quick, Mr. Angel. There are two ways you can avoid prison …” Cop No. 1 announced.
“Do you want to hear your options, Mr. Angel?” Cop No. 2 asked.
Asher nodded, grunting as he adjusted himself in the middle of the backseats, his hands squashed up in their handcuffed state behind his back.
“Option One … You spend the night in a cell until someone bails you out,” Cop No. 1 explained, “Being a famous actor, I can’t imagine you’ll be locked up for long. However …”
Cop No. 2 continued to explain the options, “… You still risk jail time, and at least three court hearings in which you’ll need to attend in person. You’re only proven innocent if the government can prove that you were not aware of the illegal substance being in your bag … “
Cop No. 1 spoke next, “… None of that really matters, Mr. Angel. You’re famous … Once the press gets a hold of the fact you were arrested after drugs were located in the trunk of your own car, well …”
Cop No. 2 smirked, “… You can wave goodbye to Shazam 3, or any other projects you were planning to work on …”
Asher looked down into his lap.
He felt emotion burn his nose at the disturbing realisation that one minute he was sitting in a McDonalds drive-thru, ordering french fries and a milkshake …
… The next minute he sat handcuffed in the back of a police car, a bag of pot found in his gym bag.
Asher lifted his head as his eyes shifted from Cop No. 1 to Cop No. 2.
“What’s the second option?” He asked.
Asher, still handcuffed, sat further slumped down the middle of the car seat after he had consensually agreed to having his feet tickled for fifteen minutes by The Cops, both his ankles now snugly secured under each head rest of the driver and front passenger seats.
He bobbed his feet from side to side casually, a playful smile decorating his face at how such an easy solution to a dire circumstance had landed in his lap.
It’s just tickling, he thought, how bad can it be?
Asher watched The Cops as they both sat facing him in their seats, both cops curling their hands around Asher’s Adidas sneakers where they carefully lifted the footwear away from Asher’s socked heels.
“Hey, guys, uh, before you start, can we we roll down a window?” Asher asked, both sneakers now leaving his feet, all ten of his toes curling within their white cotton confines, “It’s uh, it’s kinda warm in here …”
The L.A heatwave continued to hum down the secluded pathway The Cops had driven Asher too, only two abandoned warehouses either side of the police car and a view of the city behind working as their surroundings …
“The air con is on, Mr. Angel,” Cop No. 1 lied …
“You shouldn’t of worn a hoodie in this weather, young man,” Cop No. 2 quipped.
Asher pursed his lips as he glared patiently out of the window, tugging his feet a little within each head rest, reminding himself to play ball …
After all, he was beyond lucky to offered such an effortless way out of a rather dire and unexpected situation …
“Your feet don’t smell anywhere near as bad as the sneakers in your trunk do, Mr. Angel,” Cop No. 1 commented …
“They actually smell pretty good …” Cop No. 2 acknowledged, his nostrils taking in a strong whiff of Asher’s left foot, his nose rubbing up against Asher’s arch.
Asher’s left foot jolted automatically as Cop No. 2’s nose made contact with his sole.
Caught within the head rest, all it could do was remained fixed in place.
“Someone’s a little ticklish …” Cop No. 2 smirked …
Cop No. 1 moved his face closer to Asher’s right foot, his nose breathing in the fresh scent from Asher’s arch.
All ten of Asher’s toes curled up into a fierce scrunch, his level of sensitivity a surprise to both cops, as well as he himself.
“Yeah,” Asher chuckled nervously, “I, I, I guess …”
As both cops began to hook their index finger around the hem of Asher’s socks, Asher shifted his eyes from left to right as a moment of paranoid realisation landed in his head, “… Hold up, did we uh, did we set a timer? For fifteen m—” Asher thrashed his torso forwards with a hiss as Cop No. 1 scratched his index finger over Asher’s right bare heel, as the sock began its peel away from his foot, “Agh! Wait!”
The entire car wobbled from Asher’s sudden jump.
Cop No. 1 and Cop No. 2 looked at each other at the same time.
Together, they grinned.
“… Jackpot …” they both said, in unison.
“O, okay, guys, go, go slow …” Asher warned, his feet wiggling nervously as each sock continued its peel away from his foot, “… I uh, I haven’t been tickled in a while …”
With each creamy, silky smooth inch of Asher’s bare feet slowly revealed, The Cops couldn’t help but tease Asher by leaving the socks half off of each foot.
The white cotton dangled, only Asher’s heel and arch exposed for now.
“See, this isn’t so bad …” Cop No. 1 said, his index finger trailing circles around Asher’s right heel, “… A little foot tickling, and then you’re free to go … Bag of weed n’ all …”
Asher clenched his teeth as he forced his torso forwards once again, the police car wobbling with his fierce writhe.
“Damn!” Asher slammed his back against the seat as Cop No. 2 mirrored Cop No. 1’s torturous drag, his fingernail circling the milky white heel that seemed to be far more ticklish than Asher had dared to realise, “I, I told you,” Asher huffed, “That, that weed isn’t mine … I, I don’t do drugs—” he bit his tongue as Cop No. 1 took his fingernail and began to scratch it upward, where it circled Asher’s right arch whilst also nudging the sock further up his foot, “Alright, alright, guys, go easy …” Asher gulped, “… Okay, it, it seems my, my feet are pretty ticklish, you’re, you’re gonna have to go, to go —”
—Cop No. 2 copied Cop No. 1, his index finger now circling the arch of Asher’s left foot, and considering that both of Asher’s feet were quite flat, that meant there was more ticklish expanse to work with, the fingernail’s presence now increasing in pressure also …
“Go easy? You’ve been caught red handed, Mr. Angel. You’d be behind bars, if it wasn’t for this … Second Option …” Cop No. 2 scratched his index finger further up Asher’s foot, taking his sock with it.
Asher’s nostril’s flared as he pressed his chin into his chest, some breathless giggles leaving his lips.
“Yeah? Well? Fine? I, I get it … How, how long is left?” Asher spat, “We’ve been going for a few minutes already, right?”
Cop No. 1 chuckled as he began to feel the length of Asher’s toes beneath the sock.
“Oh, we only keep a rough track of time,” Cop No. 1 explained, “We’ve not even introduced you to our tools, yet …”
Asher raised his eyebrows as he watched his right sock leave his foot, where it fell somewhere around the passenger seat Cop No. 1 sat in.
“T, t, tools?” Asher curled all five of his right toes.
Cop No. 2 slid his fingers under the sock protecting Asher’s left foot, where he tickled it away from Asher’s now scrunched up toes.
“Yes, tools, Mr. Angel,” Cop No. 2 picked up both of Asher’s socks, “We dabble with more than just handcuffs and indecent searches …” Cop No. 2 placed Asher’s socks into a plastic zip bag labelled as ‘evidence’.
Asher curled his hands around the cuffs attached to his wrists behind his back, “In, indecent searches?”
Cop No. 1 admired Asher’s now fully bare and totally trapped right foot.
“We’ll get to that later,” he smirked, all five fingertips of his right hand landing gently on the sole of Asher’s right sole.
Asher’s eyes widened as he watched Cop No. 2 do the same.
“Oh, okay, uh, guys, wait, chill, chill, alright? I uh, I’m not sure I can—” Asher threw his alarmed gaze up to the grey ceiling of the police car just inches above his head, the fingertips resting in place for now, not moving at all, “—Fuck, my feet are so ticklish. I, I had no idea they … Guys, off, officers … Sir! Sirs? Maybe we could do something else? Do you have to tickle them? Maybe, maybe a foot rub instead? Or, or we could go back to the sniffing? You can sniff them, all you want …”
Both Cops remained on pause, five fingertips on each sole …
Asher exhaled through his nose as he took his eyes away from the car ceiling and down to both Cops, who seemed to be taking his suggestion into consideration, judging by their sudden silence …
Asher’s ten toes curled up as he grinned at Cop No. 1, “If you like feet, maybe just, like, suck a toe inst—”
—Suddenly, both Cops began to tickle Asher’s soles non stop, at the same time, all ten fingernails exploring the bottoms of Asher’s feet from heel to toe in a constant, violating scratch.
Asher, who had ever only had his feet tickled by friends briefly in the past, threw his torso forward once again, his eyes wide open, his grin now stretched out into a manic splay, his legs automatically pulled towards his stomach, his feet still successfully caught between the headrests …
“HOLD UP!” Asher eyed the circumstance taking place across the bottoms of his feet, now having no choice but to expel uncontrollable laughter, laughter so loud that it filled the small space of the police car, which was now wobbling from side to side in a gentle creak the more Asher threw his weight around, “OH, OH, MAN! OH MAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-AHAAHAHA-AHAHAHAHA-AHAHAHAHAN, OH MAN! OH MAN, MAN, MAN HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-AHAHAHAA, OH MAN, OH MAN, OH MAN, NO, OKAY, STOP—”
“—Begging already?” Cop No. 2 cocked an eyebrow behind his sunglasses, sunglasses that were now reflecting the image of Asher kicking, squirming and laughing into his chest the harder, the faster both Cops tickled his soles, “That wont help you, Mr. Angel. You must endure the full fifteen minutes, to dodge the jail sentence …”
Asher had now slid so far down the back seat that his butt rested on the edge, his upper body squashed around seatbelts and leather, his legs distorted and stuck in their fixed position as his ankles remained trapped under each head rest.
“Yeah! About that! I uh, I don’t think I can do fifteen minutes!” Asher admitted, sniffing up some emotion as his eyes began to water, “This tickles so bad! Like, so, so bad! I had n, n, no — agh! AGH! AGH! OH MAN! Man, the idea of doing just another minute fucking SUCKS!” Asher yelled as both Cops discovered a highly sensitive area under both of Asher’s middle toes, causing the twenty year old to stop speaking entirely, to press his lips shut and to kick his legs frantically in the hope his feet would slip free from beneath each head rest, “Mnn! Mnn! Mnn!” Asher grunted and groaned as he continued his attempts at escape, a passionate MNN leaving his throat with every kick, “Mnn! Mnn! Mnn!”
“You’re going nowhere, Mr. Angel,” Cop No. 1 declared, “And I really would advise on holding back on the cursing, in front of two federal police officers …”
Asher tried to move his handcuffed hands around his waist, his fingers stretching out in panic as he tried to shuffle his body forwards, in a desperate attempt to reach out to his left foot, or the left head rest, where he might, just might be able to lift the head rest up, yank his foot free, maybe even kick one of them in the face?
You’re crazy! Asher thought.
Don’t get yourself into more trouble!
Just do this, it’s what, ten minutes left? It’s just tickling!
And it’ll get you out of SO much shit!
Come on, get a grip—
“—I’m, I’m sorry!” Asher slumped back down in a frenzied bounce, his shoulder blades smacking repeatedly against the back seat, “No, no, n, no more cursing!” He felt a gathering layer of warmth fill his hoodie, a line of sweat now visible over his upper lip, “Hey! Guys! Sir! AGH! D, d, did you say the air con was on?” Asher kicked both legs furiously as The Cops continued to tickle both of his middle toes, “Can we, can we — AGH!— roh, roh, roll down a window?”
The Cops smirked at each other as they watched Asher get warmer and warmer, the heatwave outside burning around the police car, all four windows remaining tightly closed, the air con switched off over seven minutes ago …
“I’m actually a little cold …” Cop No. 2 declared, now taking the fingernails of his other hand to Asher’s right foot, where he scribbled all ten across the silky landscape of Asher’s right sole, “… Aren’t you a little cold, officer?” Cop No. 1 turned to Cop No. 2.
Cop No. 2 shrugged casually as he too took all ten fingernails to the bottom of Asher’s left foot, scribbling across his sole from heel to toe, around the sides of his foot, the tops, the hairy length of his ankle, “I am, officer. A little chilly, in fact …” Cop No. 2 said.
Asher’s handcuffed hands twisted around each of his sides as he tried to bend his elbows and move his arms from around his back, his legs twisted and thrashing, his toes fiercely scrunched as both of his hyper ticklish soles were tickled in a way they had never been tickled, in his twenty years of living.
“PLEASE—” Asher clenched his teeth as he forced himself not to beg, reminding himself that he had consensually agreed to be in this situation, that this option would be far better, far easier than courtrooms, legal fees, negative press coverage and a social media backlash …
… But as he squirmed and huffed, panted and kicked, his cheeks now shimmering with sweat, his vision now a little blurred, Asher realised that this was far from easy … This was actually absolute hell.
He was so hot,
So stuffed up,
So squashed in the back seat; his ankles so irritatingly caught under those damn head rests, his feet, so, so, excruciatingly ticklish that he felt lost for words, his mind jammed with hysteria, his awareness of time and how long he’d sat here having his feet tickled by these strangers lost to him completely …
Asher, amongst his sweaty exhaustion and toe curling torture, decided to request a break - surely that would be fair, considering the level of surrounded heat?
“Okay, al, alright—” Asher huffed, licking some sweat away from his upper lip, perspiration now staining the underarms of his hoodie, “It’s too hot,” Asher kicked his legs as The Cops continued to scratch and scritch over his soles, “Come on, guys! Give me like, a minute … Thirty seconds! Just a moment to, to catch, to catch my br—”
To Asher’s surprise, both Cops slid their fingernails away from Asher’s soles, where they left his heels at the same time …
Asher sighed out a heavy chunk of relief, his body from the butt up slumping in the leather seat with a squeak.
“Th, thank you,” Asher shook some hair away from his eyes, his once neatly styled quiff now a mess of brown strands over his face, “Just a sec, just a, a sec …” he tried to sit himself back up, wincing in the struggle, his hands still cuffed behind his back, his now throbbing legs still stretched out in front of him.
“You’re going a great job, Mr. Angel. Isn’t this better than leaving a courtroom, surrounded by press, losing all of your future movie roles?” Cop No. 1 smelt the tips of his fingers, taking in the now sweaty scent of Asher’s right sole.
Asher tried to twist his hands around his left side, his cuffed wrists proving difficult to pull apart.
He reached his arms out towards the window buzzer, his fingers flexing and curling as he tried his hardest to push down on the button … But the controls were too far away.
“Yeah, this is a breeze,” Asher quipped, his body shuffling closer to the window, where he still found himself unable to reach the button, “Seriously, man, sir, can, can you open some windows? All this tickling and shit, I’m literally sweating my ass off over here …”
Cop No. 2 tuttled.
“More cursing …” he shook his head, extending his hand toward the glove compartment where he flicked it open, “… More swearing … I think that requires more punishment …”
Asher’s eyes widened as he paused from trying to wind down the window.
He instead glared at the ‘tools’ Cop No. 2 had retrieved from the glove compartment.
Cop No. 2 handed Cop No. 1 a feather, whilst Cop No. 2 held an electric toothbrush in his hand.
Click!
Btzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz …
Asher shuffled forward as all ten of his toes stretched out into a panicked flex.
“No, no, no, no, no, no. no, no, no, no, no guys, you, you don’t have to use those!” Asher shot worried looks from Cop No.1 to Cop No. 2, “Fingers are fine!” He declared, “Fin, fingers are fine!”
Asher gasped as Cop No. 1 began to stroke all five toes of Asher’s right foot with the feather, his toes now wiggling, curling and scrunching non stop in an attempt to protect their sensitive betweens, “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, that’s, that’s too sensitive, agh — that feels so fucking weird!” Asher threw his head back, beads of sweat now decorating his forehead.
Both Cops showed no sign of presenting any perspiration, they remained calm and practised as they actioned their methods, Cop No. 1 see-sawing the feather between Asher’s right big and index toe, whilst Cop No. 2 pressed the vibrating bristles of the electric toothbrush over the middle of Asher’s left sole, causing the twenty year old to kick his leg repeatedly as he acknowledged a sensation unlike anything he’d ever felt before.
“AGH, FUCK—” Asher cursed the loudest he had cursed so far today, regretting his shout almost immediately by pressing his lips shut and shaking his head, “Mnnn! Mnnnn! Mnnnn!” He gagged himself quiet by clamping his teeth down on some of the material of his hoodie, taking the dry cotton deep within his mouth as he screamed into the sweat stained material, “MPHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, MMMMPPPHHHHHHHH—”
Cop No. 1 slid the feather all the way down Asher’s right sole, causing the foot to twitch and flex, all five toes wiggling like worms fresh out of soil, “It’s only a feather, Mr. Angel. The discomfort it can cause is no where near as bad as what the perverted inmate in cell number thirty seven is capable of … Believe me, the feather is the less intense option …”
Asher spat his hoodie out of his mouth as he snapped at Cop No. 1, some dribble leaving his lips, “The feather sucks!” He announced, “I fucking hate the feather!” He bit his upper lip as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, catching himself cursing once again, concerned by how many minutes The Cops might add onto this already gruelling situation, the more he yelled out curse words, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He cried, “Come on, guys, how, how long is left? I’m sure it’s been fifteen minutes!” He had now started to shriek, the electric toothbrush buzzing around all five toes of his left foot, “Aghhh! Aghhh! I swear to GOD it’s, it’s been fifteen minutes!” He screamed, his toes scrunching up to hide their ticklish lengths.
“Oh, you’re probably right, Mr. Angel …” Cop No. 2 grinned, as he watched Asher slip and bounce over the back seat, “… At least one of us is keeping count …”
Asher growled in frustration as Cop No. 1 turned the feather the other way and began to draw circles and shapes over his right sole, the sharp pin-like tip of the feathers nib creating white lines across the silky smooth flesh the harder it travelled over the sensitive landscape.
“HOLY SHIT—” Asher leaned forwards, his eyes now bulging out of his head, “ALRIGHT, STOP, NO NOT THAT, THAT’S TOO MUCH, NOT THAT, NOT THAT—” Asher’s body was now soaked in sweat; the heat of the car boiling up, the wet layers of perspiration caught between his skin and the clothes he wore, it all made his mind inform him that he really, really couldn’t take the sharpness of the feather’s quill dragging against the sole of his foot, “PLEASE, ENOUGH, ENOUGH WITH THAT,” Asher howled out breathless, bellowed laughter, his eyes refusing to blink as he took in the sight of two cops tickling his feet over the other side of the head rests, “OH MAN, OH MAN! OH MAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAAH-AHAHAHAHAHAHA-AHAHAHAHAAH-AAHAHAHAHAHAH-AHAHAHAHAHAN PL, PL, PLEASE OH DAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-AAHAHAHAHAHAHA-AHAHAHAHAHAMN—”
Cop No. 2 continued to buzz the electric toothbrush across the sole of Asher’s right foot as he admired Cop No. 1’s handiwork.
“He really can’t stand that,” Cop No. 2 commented, “Here, let me have a go …”
Asher shot a bewildered look over at Cop No. 2, “No, no, no, no, no, no, no—” he shook his head, removing some droplets of sweat from the tip of his nose, conscious that after offering both of his feet up to the police that his left foot might be a little more ticklish than his right, “Fuck, it’s so hot, damn, holy shit, I can’t take this, in this heat—” Asher started to verbalise his concerns, “—not that foot, n, n, n, not that f—”
Asher couldn’t help but erupt into heavy, grainy laughter as he cackled into the police cars ceiling, his back arching, his eyes squeezing shut as soon as Cop No. 1 handed the feather to Cop No. 2, who used it like a pen over Asher’s left sole, drawing all different sorts of shapes and various circle sizes across his arch, toes and heel …
“AAAAAH! AHHHH! AHHAAHAHAAAHAAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAH OH MY GOD,” he cried, “OH MY GOD—” Asher’s sweat had now created a thin layer of moisture over the leather of the backseat, causing him to slide across it from left to right far easier than he had been doing over the past twenty five minutes or so, “PLEASE, guys! Oh fuck, oh my god, can we oh, oh, oh, OPEN A DAMN WINDOW—” Asher had started to want fresh air within the police car and a break from the sweltering heat almost as much as he wanted the foot tickling to stop, his thighs and calves now burning thanks to how much he was kicking his legs, “This isn’t fair! It’s too hot, guys, I can’t take it like this! I’m can’t breathe—”
Cop No. 1 took the electric toothbrush off of Cop No. 2, where he decided to remove the plastic neck of the tickle tool, revealing the sharp, pin like, metal internal spine that made up the devices structure.
“Something I learned from Peter,” Cop No. 1 nudged Cop No. 2.
Cop No. 2 looked over at Asher, wincing as he showcased his bright white teeth, glaring at the twenty year old behind his sunglasses.
“That’s gonna tickle like crazy, Mr. Angel…”
Asher panted between breathless laughter, his eyes darting from left to right, right to left, left to right as Cop No. 1 moved the tip of the electric toothbrush’s pin line spine towards his right pinkie.
“Guys, come on! It’s, it’s been waaaay, way l-l-l—” Asher tried to compartmentalise his thoughts, he tried to pull what he wanted to say down to his mouth, but the words came out as stuttered, confused gibberish, disbelief now saturating his form just as much as the sweat from his body was, “wah, wah, wah, waaaaay l, l, long, longer than, than, ahahahaha-ahahahahaaaaateen minutes, minutes! Way longer! Way, way longer!” Asher tried to throw his hands around his sides, to kick his legs the hardest he kicked them yet, his handcuffs now caught up in a tangle, his body now stuffed up by the bottom of the seats in front of him, his toes pointing out the other end of each head rest, “Come on! I’ve, I’ve done the t, t, time, I’ve, I’ve done the, the ti—aYYMMMEEEAAAHAHAHAHAHA-A-AHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA-AHAHAHAHAHA-A-AAHAHAHAHAHA-A-AHAHAHAHAA—”
Asher nearly exploded when Cop No. 1 sent the buzzing tip over the fleshy pulp of his right pinkie, as Cop No. 2 continued to drag and draw lines over his left sole with the pointed nip of the feather’s quill.
“So much swearing, so many curse words … You just keep asking for it, Mr. Angel …” Cop No. 1 teased.
Asher pressed his lips shut once again, like he had done a dozen times, in an attempt to stop himself from cursing.
“Mnnn! Mnnnnn! Mnnnnnnn!” He screamed through a mouth closed tight, his head shaking from side to side as the windows of the car began to steam up, Asher’s head of hair now entirely soaked with sweat.
“Now, Mr. Angel … We’re gonna have to stop the tickling soon, and we’re gonna need to search you …” Cop No. 2’s eyebrows lifted behind his sunglasses, “It’ll be a nice break, some fresh air, a chance to catch your breath … Sounds like heaven compared to this, right Mr. Angel?”
Asher nodded quickly, his lips still fastened up.
“Mnn! Mnnn!” He groaned, with wide open eyes, his feet writhing beneath the head rests as both Cops continued to tickle his soles.
“We’ll give you a break and start our search, but only if you can guess what I’m drawing on the sole of your foot, how does that sound?” Cop No. 2 pressed the feather’s quill against Asher’s left heel, “Does that sound like something you can do?”
Asher nodded quickly once again, his green eyes scowling at Cop No. 1 who continued to run the electric toothbrush’s pin across his scrunched up toes.
“Mnnn! Mnnn!” Asher finally opened his mouth, breathing in fast through his nose, “Yeah,” he heaved, “YEAH! Anything — Any, ANYTHING!”
Cop No. 2 started to draw up Asher’s left sole.
“Okay, here we go, Mr. Angel …”
Cop No. 2 swirled the nib down, causing Asher to giggle breathlessly into the warm humidity of the car, as the cop then took the nib suddenly to the left, across Asher’s arch, causing the twenty year old to kick frantically and shout out a loud, “DAMN—” into the police cars ceiling, his mind trying to deal with several things at once; the tickling taking place over both of his feet, the intense heat, the sweat under his clothing, as well as the ‘thing’ Cop No. 2 currently drew over the bottom of his now sweat drenched left sole …
“Any ideas?” Cop No. 1 enquired, the car creaking and wobbling from side to side the more Asher kicked, squirmed and writhed in his seat.
Asher winced and buried his face into his shoulder, the cuffs now rubbing against his wrists as he rolled across wet leather, his brain taking in the sharp lines that seemed to go diagonally down his sole, then across, then diagonally down again …
Asher scrunched his toes so hard that sweat had now been contained between them.
In his head, from what he could feel being so torturously dragged across the bottom of his left foot, Asher could make out a —
“— A LIGHTNING BOLT!” He declared, shouting the loudest he had shouted since this tickle terror had began.
Cop No. 2 slowly shook his head, the feathers nib now resting over Asher’s heel.
“That’s incorrect, Mr. Angel …” He dragged the nib back up Asher’s sole, causing the twenty year olds foot to twist and turn beneath it, Asher gasping and groaning the entire time, “… And for getting it wrong, we’re going to make this a little harder for you …”
Cop No. 1 unzipped the evidence bag and pulled out one of Asher’s socks, “… Open wide, Mr. Angel …”
Asher’s eyes widened as Cop No. 1 reached between the driver and passenger seats, shoving Asher’s sock into his mouth where he stuffed it in forcefully.
“MPHH! MPHHH! MPHHHH!” Asher felt the dry cotton be wedged into the back of his throat, his eyes now watering as Cop No. 1 went back to tickling his foot.
“It might be a little tricky to hear what you’re trying to say, Mr. Angel,” Cop No. 2 said, “But we’ll do our best," he continued to draw a circle, round and round Asher’s arch, the young actor kicking both legs as he screamed breathlessly into his new gag, “What am I drawing?”
Asher could barely think as Cop No. 1 discovered an exceptionally ticklish area around the base of his second to last right toe, causing Asher to thrash and twist around as he threw his torso forwards and groaned madly into the sock shoved into his mouth.
“MPPPPH! MPPPPPPPPHHHH! MPHHHHHHHHHHHH! MPPPH! MPPH! MPHHH? MPHHH? MPHHHHHH! MMMMMMPHHHH—”
Cop No. 2 narrowed his eyes behind his sunglasses as he continued to draw over Asher’s left sole, his arch now the victim to non stop tickling from the feather’s nib.
“Hmmm, you’re going to be a little clearer, Mr. Angel …”
Asher rolled his eyes up to the police cars ceiling, his tongue pressing against the sock within his mouth where he desperately tried to push the gag past his lips.
“MPHHHH! MPHHH! MPHH? AGHHHMPPPHHHAGHHHMPHH? MPHHHH!”
Cop No. 2 reached his free hand over to Asher’s right sole where he supported Cop No. 1 in his tickling, scratching his fingernails over Asher’s right heel, sending them up to the middle of his sole, “Come on, Mr. Angel … Give us some suggestions, anything, we’re making it easy for you… Mr. Angel …”
Angel.
Angel.
ANGEL.
Asher used all the strength in his tongue to push the sock out of his mouth, where it landed gently in his lap.
“—A HALO!” Asher curled up all ten of his toes and twisted his handcuffed hands around his body, his fingers flexing out in a manic stretch, “A HALO! A HALO! IT’S A HALO, COME ON, GUYS, FUCK, FUCK YOU! IT’S A FUCKING HALO—”
Cop No. 2 dropped his shoulders in defeat as he slid the feather’s nib away from Asher’s left sole, the sharp quill leaving his heel in one final, excruciating draw.
“Correct, Mr. Angel,” Cop No. 2 announced, “It was a halo …”
“Not just a pretty face,” Cop No. 1 smirked.
Asher jolted, his eyes urging Cop No. 1 to stop the tickling, his puppy dog stare willing him to finish with the electric toothbrush’s pin around his toes as he licked his lips.
“Hey! Bro, quit it! Yo, come on, man! That’s enough! The sock was pretty screwed up, man! Hey, I did what you as—”
—Bttttzzzzzzzzzzzz — click —
Asher sighed heavily as both Cops left his feet alone, their tools dropping to their laps, both of their hands returning to Asher’s feet, this time not to tickle them, but to instead offer them a firm, much needed massage.
Asher closed his eyes and smiled, his toes un-scrunching, his nostrils flaring as he focused on catching his breath.
He blinked away sweat, a quiet, “Mnnn …” leaving his lips.
“Does that feel good, Mr. Angel …?” Cop No. 1 asked.
“We’ll need to search you, for any more illegal substances, Mr. Angel. And then you can go … How does that sound?” Cop No. 2 enquired.
Asher nodded slowly, “Sure, what, whatever, just, just give me back my feet,” he opened his eyes, both cops pressing the head rests down further over his ankles, “Wait, ho, hold up, what, what are you—
Both cops turned away from Asher and sat forward in their seats.
Cop No. 1 started the engine whilst Cop No. 2 pressed a button on the dashboard the started the police cars siren.
“Hey, wait a minute, guys?” Asher shuffled up, “Guys? Where are we going? What the f—”
“—We’re taking you to be searched,” Cop No. 1 said, the police car now making a move, the tyres spinning across the road.
“Just like we promised …” Cop No. 2 said.
Asher landed on the edge of the motel bed with a gentle bounce, his hands still cuffed behind his back.
“Guys, uh, how, how long is this gonna go on for?” he huffed, “Like, I, I appreciate you getting me off the hook and all, but, I uh, I think it’s pretty safe to say I’ve played along en—”
“—Do you think he should be calling us ‘guys’ …?” Cop No. 1 asked Cop No. 2, who stood beside them, both overshadowing Asher, both folding their arms …
“I don’t think so,” Cop No. 2 slowly shook his head, “It really should be ‘Sir’ … I thought we made that clear … ”
Asher blinked and lifted his shoulders.
“Uhh, okay, Sir … Can you, can you just let me go, now?” Asher scrunched up his feet, his bare soles resting on the motel room carpet, a tingle still present over their silky bottoms, “Like, you really don’t need to search me. I, I told you, I don’t do dru—”
“—Stand up, Mr. Angel,” Cop No. 1 ordered, “And turn your back to me.”
Asher glanced from one cop to the other as he raised his eyebrows and slowly got to his feet.
“Ye, yes, sir …”
He turned around so that his back faced The Cops.
Asher squeezed his eyes shut as he expected to feel the touch of fingertips around his ass or thighs …
But his worried expression transformed into a bright, white smile when he felt Cop No. 2 begin to remove his handcuffs.
“Oh, sir, uh, thank you so much, I, I really appreciate it, man, holy sh— seriously, I was starting to think you were gonna—”
Asher closed his mouth as he realised Cop No. 2 had left his right handcuff on his right wrist.
“Uh …”
Cop No. 1 then spun Asher around so that he faced both cops.
He then shoved Asher onto the bed, where the twenty year old fell onto his back.
“Oof! Hey! What are you—”
Cop No. 1 reached out to Asher’s left arm and took a strong hold over his wrist.
“Yo, dude, get the fuck offa me—”
—Cop No. 1 clicked another set of handcuffs around Asher’s left wrist, pulling his arm above him with strength that Asher couldn’t fight against.
He kicked his legs and stomped his feet over the mattress, “Hey! Yo! Wait, fuck, come on! No, this—shit— fuck, HELP—” both Cops yanked his hands above him, looping the handcuffs around the wooden knobs that made up the corners of the motel bed, “—HEY, SOMEBODY! HELP! HELP!” Asher turned his head to the side and called out to the closed motel room door, the burning sun shining through a window in which the blinds had been pulled shut, “HELP! HEY! YO! HELP! I’M BEING KIDNA—MPPH—”
Cop No. 2 placed his palm firmly over Asher’s mouth.
“—Do you want another one of your socks in your mouth, Mr. Angel?”
Asher shook his head.
“We’re searching you,” Cop No. 2 reminded, “Like we said we would. This is all part of the protocol …”
Cop No. 1 adjusted the collar of his shirt and then knelt down over the mattress besides Asher, where he slid his fingertips up the hem of Asher’s hoodie, wiggling them across Asher’s still sweaty abs, all the way up to his chest.
Asher giggled into Cop No. 2’s palm, his eyes widening as his feet kicked out repeatedly into the air.
“Mphh! Mmp! Mmn, mmn! Mmmnn, mnn, mnn! Mphh! Mphhnnn! Mnnn! Mnnnnn! Mphh! Mphh! Mphh!”
“Anything up there, officer?” Cop No. 2 asked Cop No. 1 …
Cop No. 1 discovered Asher’s nipples, where his index fingers and thumbs began to stroke and tweak them playfully.
Asher’s giggles increased.
“Mphh! Mmp! Mmn, mmn! MNNNN, mnn, mnn! Mphh! MPHHNNN! Mnnn! Mnnnnn! Mphh! Mphh! Mphh! MNN! MNNNN! MNNN!”
“I’m not sure,” Cop. No 1 kept his fingertips around Asher’s nipples as Asher continued to frantically kick out his feet, “I may need some assistance …”
Cop No. 2 nodded in understanding, keeping his one hand over Asher’s mouth whilst his free hand travelled up Asher’s hoodie, joining Cop No. 1’s hands in exploring Asher’s stomach, navel, sides and chest.
Asher pulled at the cuffs around each of his wrists as he threw his legs out into the air, now screaming out his giggles into Cop No. 2’s dribble stained hand, his stomach way to sensitive to be touch in such a way.
“MNN! MNN! MPPH! MPPH! MEHEHEPHH! MEHEHEPHH! MAAAAHHHHGGGGPPPHH! MNN! MNN! MNNNPHH! MNNPPHHH!”
“I think we’ll need to take a better look,” Cop No. 2 decided.
Cop No. 1 nodded, his hand slipping out from under Asher’s hoodie.
He then reached into his back pocket and pulled out a large pair of silver scissors as Asher continued to breathlessly giggle into Cop No. 2’s hand.
“Mphh! Mnn … Mn … Mnn—”
“If you scream for help again,” Cop No. 1 tilted his head, pointing the scissors at Asher, “Then your sock goes back into your mouth … We take you straight to the station, we call the press about the bag of pot still sitting in your gym bag, we terminate this second option and we go back to option number one …”
Cop No. 2 kept his hand over Asher’s face as Asher’s nostrils flared and his unblinking eyes shifted from left to right.
“Is that understood?” Cop No. 2 asked, his sunglasses staring into Asher’s eyes.
Asher nodded into Cop No. 2’s hand quickly, a gentle, “Mphh, mphh,” leaving his nose.
As Cop No. 2 slid his hand away from Asher’s mouth, Cop No. 1 approached Asher with the scissors.
Asher licked his lips, “No, no, no, wait, come on, no, no, n, n, n, n, n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n-n—” Asher tried to use his feet to kick at Cop No. 1 but the officer suddenly paused, pointing the sharpness of the scissors at Asher’s torso …
“… Keep still …” Cop No. 1 urged, “… The last thing we want to do is hurt you …”
Asher crossed his eyes at the bridge of his nose as he watched Cop No. 1 slice the scissors through the chest of his hoodie, careful not to catch Asher’s skin or to harm him in any way.
Cop No. 2 strolled casually into the ensuite bathroom.
Asher gasped as Cop No.1 began to rip away his hoodie, tearing and yanking at the material with relentless force, pulling the sweat stained, thick cotton away from his upper body.
Asher arched his back as the hoodie was peeled from beneath him, Cop No. 1 continuing to rip at the sleeves until the fabric was entirely removed from Asher’s torso.
Asher lay topless, in just his basketball shorts, his hands cuffed to either corner of the bed, his bare heels dragging across the sheets.
“Ok, guys, wow, alright, please, come on, guys, off, officers, SIR—” Asher watched Cop No. 1 pocket the scissors, where he then began to gently flutter all ten of his fingertips across Asher’s stomach, “—No, damn, wait, that, seriously? More tickling? Gah! Agh! Ha! Ha! Ha! SSS, SSSSIR, SIR, SIR, COME ON, NOT MY STOMACH—” Asher began to squirm and kick, his ankles unbound, his legs free to shoot out however much he wished, “—No, no, not my body, I, I can’t take it there, go, go back to my feet, here, here! Have a foot, take it, take it!” Asher tried to shove his right foot in Cop No. 1’s face but once again, The Cop smacked it out of the way, kneeling down beside Asher’s upper body where he continued to grab and stroke around his left side, his delicate touch nearing Asher’s left underarm, “No, no! No! No! N, n, n, n, n, n, n, n, n, n, n, n, n, n, n, n,—”
Asher began to giggle, his head thrashing from side to side as he realised, once again, all windows and doors were shut, with no natural ventilation making its way into the room as a way to relieve him from the relentless heat, “N, n, n, n, n, n, n, no, please, it’s too hot for this shit! No, no more tickling! Fuck, why are you guys going this? I did the feet, for, for wwwwwwaaaaaaaaayyyyy l, l , longer than, than fifteen m, m, meh, meh, meh—”
More strained giggles, more desperate laughter, more confused tones and keen attempts to twist away from Cop No. 1’s fingers as they buried their way into Asher’s left underarm, their strength ‘searching’ the sweaty depths of his armpit hair where they arrived within the moist, warm caverns that made up the very centre of his pit, sending the twenty year old into a panicked, frenzied, hysterical state.
“N, N, NOOOOOOOOOOOO! NO! NO! NOOOO! NOOO! NO! NO! SIR! SIR! SIR? COME ON! NO! NOOO!” Asher cried, his voice broken and strained from all the protesting and shouting in the police car not so long ago, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” His tone was loud, finishing with a dry squeak at the end of every ‘no’, his armpits one of his most ticklish areas, a spot he often punched out at people for trying to tickle, be it friends, family or loved ones, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! SIR, NOOOO! SIR? SIR! SIR!” He repeated, his mouth widening as he yelled out his distress, “NOT MY PITS, SIR, PLEASE, NOT MY PITS, ANYWHERE BUT MY PITS!”
Cop No. 2 returned to the bed, this time standing on the opposite side to Cop No. 1.
In his hands he held a large red plastic bucket of ice.
He placed it down over the carpet and handed Cop No. 1 a handful of shining, shimmering cubes … Asher’s face twisting from one cop to the other in dire confusion as he kicked his legs and bounced around over the bed sheets.
“What, what are you doing!” Asher didn’t ask for an answer, he demanded for once, “What are you doing! What, what are you d-d-d—” Asher winced as both cops took a pause on tickling his pits and instead decided to place the ice cubs over his chest, rubbing them tortourously around his neck and nipples, the twenty year old glancing down at his torso in shock as he rolled his body from side to side, anxious giggles leaving his mouth uncontrollably, “—What are you do, doo, doo, doo— agh! Aghaha! Agahahaha! Agahahahaha-ahahahaha-ahahahaha-ahahahaha-no stop!—aghahahahaha—agahahaha-ahahahahaha-ahahahaha-hey quit it, that’s so cold, come on!—ahahahahahahaha, ahahahahaha—”
“We’ve searched you,” Cop No. 2 explained, “And we’ve tickled you,” he continued …
“… And you’re right, Mr. Angel. It has made you very hot, and very flustered. I think it’s time we were fair and … “ Cop No. 1 smirked, “… We cooled you off …”
Asher couldn’t catch his breath, the ice tickled that much, it’s cold roll and slide across his abs and navel causing him to kick his feet and legs the hardest he possibly could, in an attempt to push the cops away from his body.
The more Asher kicked, the more he threw his own weight down the bed, which meant the more his arms were pulled above him, further exposing his underarms and their thick, brown curls of pit hair …
“What!” He panted, “No!” He puffed, “No ice! No, no tickl— no, no ice, no, no tick, tick, tickl—” he could barely talk, “—Fuck!”
Asher dug his heels into the mattress in an attempt to shuffle back up, but Cop No. 1 grabbed his knees and clamped them together, sitting down over his legs, pinning them in place.
Asher’s panicked scowl shot from one armpit to the next as both cops rubbed their ice cubs gently over his sensitive skin, pressing the icy force deep into his underarm hair, causing the young man to scream and shout, more sweat developing over his upper lip and chest.
“NO! NO! FUCK, COME ON! I’M COOL, SIR, I’M COOL, GUYS, you know? I’m, I’m alright—” Asher urged, actually still feeling overwhelmed by the heat, the ice cubes melting almost as soon as they landed in his underarms, “—Stop! Stop! St, stop! STOP IT, I, I DON’T NEED THE ICE, I’M, I’M OKAY, SER, SER, SERIOUSLY! Thanks! Thanks, but, but, guys, SIR, seriously! Seriously?” Asher fell into more uncontrollable giggles as soon as Cop No. 1 reached into the bucket and took out a fresh handful of ice, running it carefully down Asher’s side, over his hip and past his basketball shorts, where Cop No.1 held onto Asher’s right ankle and began to press the ice cubes into the sole of Asher’s right foot, “AGH! AGH! AGH-HA! AGH-HA! SHIT, NOT MY FEET, GET THE FUCK OFFA MY FEET, OH GOD, T, T, T TICKLES SO BAD, HOLY SHIT, OH MY GOD, COME ON, PLEASE—” Asher kicked his right leg but Cop No. 1 kept a firm hold over his ankle, allowing the twenty year olds other free leg to try and force him away.
“Still some areas to search, I believe,” Cop No. 2 suggested.
Cop No. 2 rolled his ice cubes around Asher’s neck and face, causing the boy to spit and splutter, whilst he used his free hand to grab at the hem of Asher’s basketball shorts, suddenly yanking them down to his thighs …
“What! WHAT? No! Hey, come on! Keep those on! Come on, dude, that’s enough! That’s enough you sonovabitch!”
Asher took his cursing to another level as his briefs were exposed - tight, black y-fronts hugging his body, containing everything as he rolled from side to side over the motel mattress.
“Fuck! No, ahahahahaha! Agahahahahaaha! Enough with the feet! Aghahahahaha-ahahahahaha-ahahahaah! Enough, enough with the feet!” Asher bounced his body over the bed sheets, his head smacking into the pillow behind him, his eyes squeezing shut as Cop No. 2 successfully took his basketball shorts away from his body, where they slipped past his unbound feet and landed on the carpet with a plop.
Both cops went back to holding onto Asher’s ankles, keeping his kicking legs in place as they sent the ice cubs over the soles of his feet, where they melted after ten seconds, Asher’s warm, moist, sweaty soles proving too hot to keep the ice cubes in their square shape …
… But that didn’t stop The Cops - as soon they ran out of ice, they’d reach back into the bucket and apply more icy cold sensations across Asher’s squirming body, travelling up his legs, behind his knees, to the tops of his thighs, —”AGGHH! AGHAHAHAHA! AGAHAHA OH GOD, OH GOD THIS IS A LOT, GUYS, SIR, REALLY, IT’S, IT’S A LOT—” over his navel and hips, towards his chest, across pin hard nipples and back to ultra sensitive armpits, sending the young actor into deeper realms of senseless lunacy, —”OH GOD, OH GOD, OH GOAHAHAHAHAHA-AHAAHAHAHA-AHAHAAHAHA-AHAHAHAHA PLEASE STOP, OH GOD PLEASE, AGHAHAHAHAHA I CAN’T TAKE IT, I CAN’T TAKE IT, I CAN’T DO IT ANYMORE—” Asher yanked at his handcuffs, once, twice, three times, pulling as hard as he possibly could, their partnered steel loop too tightly cuffed around the wooden knobs, “—I’M GONNA BREAK THE BED IN HALF, I SWEAR TO GOD—” Asher threatened.
The Cops remained surprisingly quiet, unable to taunt or tease Asher verbally as much as they had done in the police car, mostly due to how much the attention on his pits and the mixture of having ice applied to his body made him scream and shout so loud.
So they instead allowed Asher to howl and cry, beg and laugh, thrash and squirm, after all, for ticklers as professional as they were, it all simply worked as music to their ears …
Asher threw his head forward in surprise when Cop No. 1 grabbed a fist full of ice, lifted up his underwear and shoved it down his pants.
Cop No. 1 flinged the waistband of his briefs back against the skin of his ultra ticklish stomach with a smack, grabbing more ice which he then began to implement all over Asher’s right side.
“WHAT THE FUCK?” Asher glared down at his underwear, the freezing ice melting around the sensitive space between his thighs, his head twisting and bouncing over the pillow as Cop No. 2 rubbed the ice around Asher’s left underarm, “WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK? NO, N, N, N, N, N, N, N, NO! NO! STOP! I MEAN IT, COME ON! STOP! STOP! STOP! STOP? STOP IT! STOP IT. STOP IT? PLEASE? PLEASE. PLEASE …”
“Admit it, Asher,” Cop No. 1 felt the ice melt beneath his palm as he rubbed it into Asher’s left nipple, “That bag of pot was yours, wasn’t it?”
Asher pressed his face into his shoulder, Cop No. 2 acknowledging the ice melting away into Asher’s left pit, where he then wiped his hands over Asher’s stomach and climbed up onto the bed …
“No, please, I can’t do this, this is whack, I can’t take it, how, how long are you guys gonna do this for? Fuck! Fuck! I, I, I don’t know if I can, please, PLEASE, take the ice outta my, fuck, that’s so cold, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit—”
Cop No. 1 crawled down to Asher’s legs and held onto both of his ankles, stretching his lower body down to the middle of the bed, his arms pulled tighter above him than ever before thanks to the handcuffs pinning his wrists to each bed knob.
“AGH!” Asher groaned, his entire body flexing, his abs tightening, his ribs presenting themselves around his sides, his armpits now fully open and exposed, his skin shimmering with a shiny mixture of perspiration and melted ice …
Cop No. 2 shuffled behind the space that made up the gap between Asher’s head and the beds heard board.
He knelt down and carefully placed Asher’s head in his lap.
Here, he had perfect access to Asher’s underarms, and Asher knew it …
“We’re doing this for as long as it takes …” Cop No. 2 decided, “… Until you admit that the bag of pot was yours …”
Asher grimaced as he watched Cop No. 2 comb his fingers through his armpit hair, stroking the ticklish flesh as Cop No. 1 continued to yank Asher’s legs further down the bed, stretching his ticklish body out for Cop No. 2 to ravage and devour, his fingers now tickling down Asher’s torso, over his chest and past his stomach …
“OH GOD!” Asher’s eyes nearly popped out of his skull, “OH DAMN!” He peered over his chest as he watched ten fingers grab, pinch and jab into his ribcage, tickling him in a way he had never been tickled, non stop, relentlessly and without mercy, “GAH-GAH-GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-AHAHAHAHAHAA-AHAAHAHAHAHAHA-AHAHAHAHAHAHA-AHAHAHAHA-AHAHAHAHA-AHAHAHAHA-AHAHAHAHA OH GOD PLEASE AHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA-AHAHAHAHAHA-AHAHAHAHAHAH-AHAHAHAHAHAHAH PLEASE JUST STOP AHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA—NO WAY THIS ISN’T HAAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAPPENING—”
“—Do it,” Cop No. 1 urged, “Admit it, Asher … Then it can all be over …”
Asher pressed his lips shut and squeezed his eyes closed, shaking his head furiously as Cop No. 2 continued to ravage his ribs, tickling his sides with incredibly expert skill, locating all of Asher’s ticklish spots from his waist to his shoulders, his fingers now edging closer towards his pits.
As they invaded the insanely ticklish depths of each of his underarms, Asher exploded in an eruption of dire, viseral honesty …
“O, OKAY! O, OKAY! IT WAS MINE, ALRIGHT? FUCK YOU! IT WAS MY, MY, MY, MYYAHAHAHAHAHAHA-AHAHAHAHAHA-AHAHAHAHAHA-AHAHAHAHAHANEEEEE—” he howled, his eyes snapping open, a tear rolling down his right cheek, his legs kicking in Cop No. 2’s grasp, a grasp that still held onto each of his ankles tightly, refusing to let him go, “I’M SORRY, I’M SORRY, OKAY? I DIDN’T WANNA LIE! I DIDN’T WANNA GET ARRESTED! I, I, I, I WON’T DO IT AGAIN, I JU, JU, JUST WANTED TO TRY THE STUFF, I GOT IT FROM THE GUY AT MCDONALDS I’M, I’M SORRY! FUCK! PLEASE! STOP TICKLING ME, I’LL DO WHATEVER YOU WANT—”
Cop No. 2 let go of Asher’s left ankle, keeping hold of his right, where he then tucked it into a secure arm lock.
“So the pot was yours, Mr. Angel…” Cop No. 2 scribbled his fingernails over Asher’s right sole, licking, sucking, nibbling and kissing the toes of his right foot as Cop No. 1 continued to sit comfortably behind Asher’s shoulders, where he persisted in tickling the young mans underarms and rib cage, “… You’ve been lying to us, all a long … Officers of the law … Telling tall tales, right in front of our faces—”
“—You’re not real cops!” Asher panted, his right leg kicking fiercely as Cop No. 2’s tongue slid between his toes, “You can’t be! Real cops don’t do this to people!” He cried, his head frantically twisting over Cop No. 1’s lap as his fingers wiggled deeper and further into the sweaty depths of his armpits, “Please, I told you the truth, you can’t just go on tickling me all night, I can’t take it! Please, I’m begging you, guys! Guys? Guys! Guh-huhuhuhuh-hahahahaaahahahahahahaa-huhuhuuhuhahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaays!”
Cop No. 2 dropped Asher’s foot out of his armlock and then spun around, jumping on the bed where he quite suddenly straddled Asher’s waist, his hands shaping out into claws where they then landed down over his stomach and waist, tickling the lower half of his torso as Cop No. 1 continued to tickle his upper half…
Asher’s cheeks flushed red as his eyes filled with water, his free legs kicking out dozens of times a second, as if his body from the waist down was put on fast forward, his laughter now so fast, so breathless, so filled with hysteria that his entire face had creased up into a distorted expression of pure, undeniable ticklish agony, the sort of expression only the most skilled set of ticklers could create.
“I wish we’d filmed this!” Cop No. 1 said to Cop No. 2, his voice raised over Ashers constant howling, “I just caught the look, the moment when they break! It was painted all over his face!”
Asher heaved and threw his torso forward as much as he could, his shoulders wriggling, dribble bubbling at the corners of his mouth, his muscular, toned arms pulled back, his armpits tickled by ten fingers, five in each underarm, the other ten fingers travelling constantly up and down the front of his body, exploring each rib, his belly button, his nipples and his neck, causing Asher to laugh and laugh and laugh, to buck and bounce and roll and shout, the bed creaking and wobbling, the motel room now completely filled with the scent of sweat and the echoes of Asher’s roars, his growls, his attempts to speak, to beg and to plead …
“We may not of got this on camera,” Cop No. 2 sighed, his fingers still dancing around Asher’s lower body, “However, we did record all audio… We have been, since we locked your ankles under the head rests … Now, we have a confession …”
Asher’s head was now saturated in perspiration, the heatwave outside boiling the room to a suffocating temperature, the ice that was caused his body to shimmer already evaporated, leaving the only shine on his skin being thick layers of sweat …
“I don’t care anymore!” Asher managed to say, breathlessly and quiet, as if exhaustion were the only thing keeping him going, “Do what you want, I’m fucking tied to the bed, I can’t stop this! I’m fucking screwed! I was screwed as soon as you pulled me over! You mother fuckers!”
“It’s okay,” Cop No. 1 reassured, “It’s alright, calm down, listen to us…” Cop No. 1 slowed down his tickling, now only gently curling his fingertips through Asher’s armpit hair, which still caused the caught ticklee to squirm and roll from side to side, Cop No. 2’s weight still resting over his waist.
“Take in a breath,” Cop No 2 urged, “Breathe in, and breathe out, Mr. Angel …” Cop No. 2 slowed down his tickling also, now only smoothing his fingertips gently across Asher’s abs, “… Listen to us very carefully …”
Asher closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose, offering both cops a stern, '“Fuck you,” before exhaling out through flared nostrils.
Cop No. 1 and Cop No. 2 exchanged a satisfied glance - hearing Asher be so polite for most of his time being tickled was something they knew would change - once he had become an aggressive, unapologetic ass, it would mean they had truly broken him, they had expertly transformed him from a person to a dishevelled, wreck of a man …
Asher’s hands dangled from the cuffs as he opened his eyes, Cop No. 1 tidying up his hair with his fingertips.
“You aren’t going to court, Mr. Angel,” Cop No. 1 explained.
“And you aren’t going to jail,” Cop No. 2 continued.
“But, you are going to be our tickle toy, until we say so …” Cop No. 1 declared.
Asher’s heels scraped across the bed sheets as he glared up at his ticklers, panic washing over his face.
“No! No! No! Please! I told you, the pot was mine, I’ve let you do this to me all day! Give me, give me a break at least, just a minute, a, a, a minute so I can—”
“You’ll get more than a minute …” Cop No. 1 unhooked the left cuff from the bed knob, allowing Asher’s left arm to drop free.
“We’ll give you a few more weeks …” Cop No. 2 watched Cop. No. 1 unhook the right cuff from the bed knob, allowing Asher’s right arm to drop free also.
Asher, still laying on his back with his head in Cop No. 1’s lap, rubbed his wrists, even if they did still have a handcuff attached to each of them.
“Few more weeks? I, I don’t unders—”
Cop No. 1 slid out from under Asher’s head as Cop No. 2 crawled off of his waist.
They then stood at the end of the bed, hooking their thumbs over the utility belts, eyeing the twenty year old laying soaked in sweat in his underwear, breathless and tired, his body decorating in tiny pink pinch marks.
“Maybe even a few months,” Cop No. 1 announced, “The House’s schedule came sometimes get muddled up, depending on who our level of … Importance … Is focused on …”
Cop No. 2 nodded slowly.
“You belong to us now, Mr. Angel. Our little toy, our little bitch … And there’s a world of tickle torture, of tools, positions, devices and contraptions we can’t wait to introduce you to …” He explained
Asher sat up slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose, the handcuffs clinking around his wrist.
“House? Months?” He glared at the cops, “Bitch?!” He shook his head, “No, no way. There’s no way I’m doing this again … You can take that idea and shove it up your—”
“—No more cursing, Mr. Angel,” Cop No. 1 wagged his index finger slowly in the air, “You’re asking for punishment, if you continue to curse …”
Asher lowered his head, completely shocked by the word that came out of his mouth.
“Sorry. sir … ”
Both Cop No. 1 and Cop No. 2 looked at each other again, smiling in success, it now very clear how easily they had transformed Asher into the perfect sub.
Cop No. 1 started to leave the motel room, picking up the now entirely melted bucket of ice as he did so.
Cop No. 2 took a step closer to Asher, who shuffled away from the officer in fear.
“If you refuse to see us again,” Cop No. 2 picked a calling card out of his chest pocket, “We’ll see you in court …”
Cop No. 2 flicked the calling card at Asher’s face as he and Cop No. 1left the motel room, the door remaining open, allowing beams of hot sun to shine into the sweaty interior.
Asher flinched as the calling card hit his nose.
It landed on his lap.
He picked it up, eyeing the front of the card; the illustrated house, the feathers surrounding its roof …
Asher kept the card in hand as he slid off the bed, tip toeing towards the open door where he watched the cops climb back into their police car and slowly drive away.
Asher smirked.
He stepped back into the motel room and fell back on the bed, landing with a bounce.
You’ve got away with it.
Asher grinned.
“That was wild …”
He had successfully avoided jail, court, press interference, his career facing jeopardy, all because of a little tickling …
Can I do something like that again?
Asher shook his head as he stared up into the greasy ceiling.
“No way …” he whispered to himself.
Would they really come back again? How would they find me? How much more tickling could they actually do?
Asher chuckled at the idea of The Cops returning, out of the blue, to try something like this on him for a second time …
Asher knew, that as soon as he’d get home he’d be hiring additional security.
Front of house, back of house, driven from set to set …
They’d have no chance …
With that thought in mind, Asher sat up from the bed, he looked at the calling card, and with pure ignorance flooding his veins he tore it in half with only one thought left in his mind;
Why me?