I took a deep breath and opened the door. 

I stepped into the room and tried to ignore how sore my feet still felt.

Mendes had really fucked me up! I felt sorry for the next guy he’d get his hands on. Knowing he was with The Clowns was a comfort, though. 

The mere thought of the three days I spent with them still sends shivers down my spine.

My stomach ached, partly becuase of how much the session had taken out of me, and partly because of how nervous I got after Miller’s freakout.

I’d almost managed to calm myself down that morning, but after seeing him freak out like that I couldn’t help but feel like an elephant was sitting on my ribcage.

I walked in, and noticed that The Founders were all sitting in their chairs, except for Peter.

He was standing next to the rack I’d been tied to, next to someone wearing nothing but a pair of black boxers and white socks. He had a familiar face, a face I’d seen twisted in a manic grin I was more than happy to recreate.

“—Johnny Orlando?—” 

I did my best to pretend I hadn’t seen him before, hoping Peter would play along. The time I tickled him I was disguised as a Masked Tickler, and I wanted to keep the surprise for after he was tied.

Peter understood immediately.

“Yup. Johnny fucking Orlando …” he turned to Johnny, “… This is Aaron, your tickler. It’s his first time tickling a famous person.”

Johnny looked down, embarrassed, “I-I’m hardly a—”

“—It’s so amazing to meet you, I love your music!” I interrupted Johnny, unsure what came over me, “You have an awesome voice, man!” 

Johnny chuckled, “Then make sure not to destroy it …”

“No promises,” I winked.

“Okay!” Peter clapped his hands, “Enough flirting, you two, we have to get started. So, this is what’s happening. Johnny here has recieved a piece of information. Your job, Aaron, is to extract said piece of information. You have exactly one hour, you get to pick one spot and one tool. Baby oil, and other forms of lubrication, are forbidden, barring sweat. This is your final trial …”

A beat of silence filled the room as Peter continued.

“Tickling outside of the chosen area, or failure to acquire the information within an hour, will result in seven punishment sessions for you, Aaron. You will then sign an NDA and any form of contact between The House and yourself will be eliminated. You will see the timer, your ticklee will not. Do you understand?”

“I …” Miller had told me that my final trial was serious, but he hadn’t mentioned the details. I tried to calm myself down, “… Yes!” I cleared my throat, “Yes, I understand.”

“As for you, Johnny,” Peter turned to look at Orlando, “If you fail to withhold the information, you will endure a five hour session with me.”

Johnny smirked, confident, “That doesn’t sound too ba—”

“—After which you will not be contacted again,” Johnny’s face dropped as Peter spoke, “You’ve grown fond of me, I can tell. You think you can handle that stopping?”

“I …” Johnny looked speechless, “No! I didn’t know this was what I was signing up for! Peter, please! Find someone else!” He was pleading the same way I’d seen him plead for tickling to stop.

“Wow,” as soon as I spoke his panicked gaze shot to me, “Do you really love it this much?”

“I want it. I can’t explain it,” Johnny huffed, “I-I just need it.”

I tried to lighten the mood. “Well then maybe I oughtta torture you by not tickling you!”

It didn’t work. Johnny looked just as distressed. He looked back at Peter.

“Please, Peter! I’m begging you …”

Peter put his hand on Orlando’s shoulder. I was expecting him to comfort him, maybe tell him that he could get through it.

I was wrong.

“Then make sure not to lose …” Peter looked dead serious, he almost scared me.

He turned around and walked toward his chair, two henchmen in white masks taking his place. 

They each grabbed one of Johnny’s arms, keeping him fixed in position. The one holding his right arm spoke behind the plastic covering his face.

“What are your decisions, tickler?” He sounded just as monotone as the guy who tickled me and the guy who untied me. These guys were seriously starting to freak me out.

I looked up at Miller. He shot a frustrated look toward Andrew, who was looking down at us. His lips were tugging in a knowing smile. He must have something to do with the switch, and why Miller was so perturbed. There was something going on between those two, I’d suspected it for a while, but after this I was completely sure. I decided I was getting to the bottom of it as soon as I was out of there.

“Just pick something!” I snapped back into reality. Johnny sounded more desperate than I’d ever heard him. “Please! Just get this over with, man!” He’d entirely stopped trying to break loose from The Masked Henchmen’s grasp.

“I-” I sounded more unsure than I’d like to admit.

Get yourself together.

I cleared my throat.

“Armpits. I choose his armpits,” I didn’t look at Miller, but I felt his eyes almost piercing into me, “And I will use my fingers,” the words came out more assertive than I’d expected, a hint of confidence in my voice that surprised even me. Again, I refused to look at anyone but Johnny, who lit up, but I heard someone sigh. I assumed I’d disappointed Miller, but I didn’t divert my attention.

“Pits?” A look of fear washed over Johnny’s face. “Fuck yeah! I think I can take it there!”

No, Johnny, you can’t.

I was as excited as you could possibly get. It seemed like Johnny had already forgotten what ‘The Masked Tickler’ had done to him while Peter was punishing Joshua, and I was planning on using that to my advantage.

“Oh…” I acted disappointed, “You can? Fuck! Well, I’ll do my best…” I thought I took it a little too far, been a little too dramatic, but when I looked around it seemed like everyone bought it. Well, everyone but Peter.

Miller looked disappointed, but tried offering me a supportive smile. I just looked away, I didn’t want him to throw me off more than he already had.

Andrew looked even happier than before, Brad looked pretty indifferent, and John simply looked at me without expression. My guess was that someone that experienced knew to keep his thoughts to himself.

Peter just chuckled lightly to himself, he knew exactly what I was doing. I’d shown him what I’d done to Orlando by demonstrating it on Joshua, and it’d worked almost as good as on Johnny.

“Aaron,” I was, once again, snapped back into the moment, “In what position do you want him?” The Masked Henchmen on Johnny’s right spoke again.

I pretended to swallow down some nerves, “On the rack. Put his feet in the stocks so they can’t move, immobilize his legs like you did mine,” I faked speaking with a false sense of confidence, when I was actually the most confident I’d been since I’d gotten there. After all, I was about to tickle my favourite armpits of all time… “Strap his waist down, then tie his arms above his head. Make sure it’s tight ...” I was planning on sitting on Johnny’s arms, but I knew from experience that they were quite strong.

The Masked Henchmen began to move swiftly, guiding Johnny towards the rack. 

Johnny positioned himself on it, his back pressing against the same surface I’d been tormented on. I watched as they opened up the stocks and placed his ankles into them. Despite him wearing socks, the sight was enough to get me firm …

The Masked Henchmen closed the stocks and started strapping the rest of Johnny’s body down; first his shins, then his knees … I admired his long, muscular, and slightly hairy legs as they continued, strapping his thighs down next …

They arrived at his waist, restraining it as well, before finally picking up an arm each. 

Johnny’s arms were raised above his head, his wrists fastened tightly with leather straps to the top of the rack. Johnny squirmed, testing the restraints, but it was futile. He was completely immobilized, his armpits exposed and vulnerable ... 

I couldn’t help but be in awe at how good he looked; abs neatly defined due to constant laughter, arms and legs used to being immobilized, yet also exerting energy in pointless attempts to escape, feet so perfectly shaped, a ribcage so ticklish a single finger could make him scream, and most importantly, the most ticklish armpits I’d ever come across …

Perfectly hairy, buttery smooth, silky to the touch, but also impossible to touch without restraints, because of how sensitive they were. 

Once The Masked Henchmen stepped away, I moved closer to Johnny. 

This was it. 

I took a deep breath and climbed up onto the rack. 

I settled myself on his triceps, his upside down head landing between my thighs. I carefully combed through his hair, the softness of it surprising me once again.

“You’re really enjoying this, huh?” Johnny grinned, rubbing his head against my erection.

“Oh! I-I’m sorry. I can’t really be—”

“—It’s fine!” He chuckled. “I’m used to it. Besides, I’d rather have you enjoy this than hate me,” he winked. Fuck, he was so perfect …

Once I’d collected myself, I thought back to when I, too, thought that your tickler liking you was a good thing.

“Do you wish to blindfold your ticklee?” A Masked Henchmen  asked while placing a phone with a one hour timer on the floor next to the rack, perfectly positioned for me to see while looking down and tickling Johnny.

I almost burst out laughing. Blindfold Johnny? He was the ticklee with the most expressive eyes I’d ever seen, there was no way in hell I was missing that.

“No, thank you,” I managed to sound calmer than I’d expected.

“Very well,” The Masked Henchmen hovered his finger above the ‘start’ button under the timer, “Your time begins …” he tapped down, “… Now.”

I began slowly, my fingers lightly dancing over the exposed armpit hair. 

Johnny jolted beneath me, a gasp escaping his lips.

I combed through the curls, making sure not to touch his skin. Johnny had a tendency to beg for the tickling to start, to get it over with, and I was really looking forward to that.

He continued huffing and twitching. His eyes and lips were sealed in what was probably an attempt to keep quiet when I would inevitably strike without warning.

I continued exploring Johnny's armpits with a feather-like touch, barely grazing the sensitive skin. His body jerked in response, a soft giggle slipping from his lips. This gentle tickling continued, eliciting soft giggles quickly followed by him quickly sealing his lips.

My fingers stopped combing and I started wiggling my fingers into the soft hair, still barely grazing the skin.

Johnny’s entire body tensed up. Every muscle became more defined, he practically held his breath. He knew exactly what was coming, and it was amazing to watch.

“Are you ready for this, Johnny? Are you ready to be tickled out of your fucking mind?”

He stayed still, entirely tensed up. I wasn’t even sure he’d heard me with the panic that was undoubtedly going on in his head.

“You know, it’s pretty rude to ignore a question, Johnny,” I spoke seriously, but overtly dramatically, “Especially when the person asking it has this much power over you.”

I stopped my wiggling and placed both my hands flat on his armpits.

He exhaled, still tense.

I raised my right index finger, and ever so carefully touched his skin with the tip of it, keeping the finger in place.

You would’ve thought I’d punched him in the gut with how hard his stomach contracted. Fuck, those abs!

“Johnny,” I talked to him like he was a kid who’d stolen candy, “I’ll give you one more chance. Are you ready to be tickled out of your fucking mind?”

He quickly shook his head, keeping both eyes and lips sealed.

“Johnny…” my tone suggested a warning.

“Do it!” He blurted out. There it was. No matter how much he dreaded what was coming, he knew it was coming. He couldn’t change that, and he was acutely aware of it, “Just fucking do it, man! Stop with the mind-fuck! It’s, like, torture!” I looked at the timer.

Five minutes had passed. In Five minutes, I’d managed to make Johnny reach a level of dread and submission that was worse than the tickling itself. So much worse, in fact, that he was begging for the tickling to begin.

“Torture? Is it really torture, Johnny?” I lifted both my hands and formed them into claws. My fingertips rested on Johnny’s armpit hair, pressing it against the skin. I made sure to keep my hands completely still, as he once again breathed in so hard you’d think someone had punched the air out of him a second earlier, “Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?”

“Come on, you fuck! What are you waiting for?” It was as if he couldn’t hear me. I didn’t mind. If it meant every piece of his consciousness was used to prepare for the hell he knew I was about to put him through, I could handle being ignored.

“Fine, Johnny,” I sighed, “But when you beg me to stop, remember that you asked for this.”

I started trailing one index finger around each armpit. I went harder than before, and I made sure to press down on the skin properly, but I didn’t want to really fuck him up just yet. If I went in with both hands spidering around as hard as I could, he’d have the comfort of knowing that I couldn’t go any harder.

I wasn’t planning on granting him that just yet. I watched him twitch harder than before, his attempts to thrash around hindered by the restraints keeping him in place. I’d been in there less than half an hour ago, I knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

He writhed under me, breathing rapidly and quickly. His twitching abs looked so amazing I almost regretted choosing his pits, but I quickly remembered my goal. As fun as this was, I had a job to do, and his pits were simply the easiest way to get it done. Besides, this was like having a remote to control his abs, which was a heaven in its own right.

I watched him try to lift his hips off the rack, and fail. His eyes were still shut, and he looked like he was doing his best to keep his lips sealed. Every now and then, I’d press down a little harder with a finger, and a giggle would escape.

The sight was glorious. He was entirely fucked, he was being tickled, and he had to deal with the fact that this wasn’t even half of what he was going to be put through. The upper half of his face was stuck in the most focused look I’d ever seen, his bushy eyebrows straightened in a deep frown, while the bottom half was struggling to keep still in any way. One second it was a grin with a giggle escaping, but as soon as that happened he’d try to seal his lips back up and return to focusing. The moment he succeeded, however, I’d just press down a bit to get that grin back.

“How you doing down there, Johnny?” I couldn’t help but chuckle, the sight was just too amusing.

Like I expected, he ignored me. I was honestly unsure about what was going through his mind, since I had a tendency to be hyperfocused on my tickler’s voice.

After a couple minutes of watching him writhe and twist, I got bored with him keeping his eyes and mouth closed.

I pressed down with both fingers and he arched his back, trying to contain a chuckle. This stretched out his armpits a bit more. I struck immediately.

I started spidering all ten of my fingers in his armpits, and his back slammed onto the rack. His eyes sprung open, and so did his mouth. He let out a quick, startled, scream.

I increased the intensity, my fingers moving in a rhythmic pattern. Johnny’s laughter echoed throughout the room, as his body squirmed helplessly beneath me. His eyes were wide with surprise, his breath coming in short gasps as he tried to withstand the ticklish assault.

I continued, relentless in my tickling. Johnny’s laughter was continuous now, it echoed around the room and bounced off the walls surrounding us. I tried to stay focused on the task at hand, but his body writhing in ticklish agony and his head rubbing against my crotch only made my erection firmer.

“AAAAHAHAAAAHAHAAAGGGHHHHHH!—”, he stopped ignoring me, “—STAAAHAHAAAAAPPPPP! PLEEAAAHAHASE!—”

His pleas for mercy were lost in his bouts of laughter, his eyes pleading. But I didn’t stop. I was in control, and I was going to make the most of it.

I could feel the power coursing through me as I tickled him, the room resonating with his laughter. It was extraordinary, the control I had over him. I reveled in it, the feeling of dominance, of power. It was an experience like no other, and I couldn't help but be consumed by it.

As I relentlessly allowed my fingers to dance around on the skin in the depths of Johnny’s armpits, the air filled with the sound of his uncontrollable laughter. I could see the pleas in his eyes, but I was determined to push him to his limits. I knew that he was incredibly ticklish and I was going to use that to my advantage.

20 minutes in …

For the first time since I’d started, I decided to give Johnny a break. I laid my hads flat over his pits, and rubbed away the tingling I knew would be left after the assault I’d dealt.

He was panting, his tongue hanging out of his mouth in exhaustion.

“Oh, so this is why they call you ’The Pet’…?” I chuckled, amused.

“Hey, man! Listen! If you go ee, easier on me I promise to put aside as many concert tickets as you want, for as many of my shows as you want!” Johnny looked up at me, speaking words he sounded to have spoken dozens of times before, “You like my music, right? I promise to put aside as many as you could possibly want! I could even have you on stage with me sometime!” He continued with his offer, whilst I stared down at him. I tried keeping my amused chuckles contained, something that didn’t come easily, “Please, Aaron! Please!” At this point I couldn’t tell if he was still begging, or just trying to fill the silence.

After a couple more seconds of me simply looking at his pleading face, I replied.

“No,” his face droppedm “Why in the world would I want concert tickets, when I have my own private show right fucking here?”

And so, I resumed my position as a tickler. Johnny’s eyes held a twinkle of trepidation as I raised my fingers, poised above his exposed armpits. I could almost hear his heart hammering in his chest, the anticipation alone was apparently enough to send him into fits. Then, with a devilish grin, I dove in.

I scribbled within his pits for no more than a couple seconds, before I quickly flattened my hands over the skin. He panted under me and I could feel his heartbeat all the way through the skin in his armpits …

“That’s, like, fucking torture!” His voice was shaky, strained after the laughter.

“Music to my ears, Johnny-boy!” As I scribbled again, my face was still splayed out into a huge grin.

Everything I’d learned, from all the men I’d tickled so far, was being executed on the ticklee I loved the most. This was a dream come true.

I started scribbling in his armpits again, moving my fingers in a frenzied pattern. His panicked laughter echoed around the room, bouncing off the walls and filling the space with its infectious sound. Then, just as suddenly as I'd started, I stopped. His body jerked in surprise, as a squeak of relief escsped his lips.

“Stop, man! Please! Like, seriously!” Johnny was back to keeping his eyes shut. He seemed to have given up entirely on his lips, but he was determined to keep his eyelids closed.

“You really want to keep those eyes closed, huh Johnny?” I made sure to sound as teasing as I could.

Before he could fully recover or reply, I started again, my fingers digging into the sensitive skin of his armpits. His laughter resumed, louder and more frantic than before. Then I stopped, letting him catch his breath, his sides heaving as he gasped for air.

“FUCK! LET—”, he blinked, and lowered his voice a bit, “—Let me, like, answer before you start again!”

“Very well” I sighed, “Why do you want to keep them closed?” I already knew the answer. He’d probably heard from Peter about how expressive his eyes were, and didn’t want to give me the satisfaction of seeing them. Johnny wasn’t stupid, though. He knew that if he said that to me I’d simply tickle him until he gave in.

“I- ehm…” Johnny kept his eyes shut, but I could see them moving underneath his eyelids. He was so painfully obviously trying to stall for time.

I sent my fingers in again, this time the hardest I’d attacked him since the start of the session.

His eyes almost popped out of his head, their whites extremely visible. I chuckled in amusement at his attempt and hope to actually keep his eyes closed. He was pretty experienced with The House, but every attempt and delusion of control convinced me more and more that he had a long way to go before he truly understood what he was dealing with.

This pattern continued, my fingers scribbling and then stopping, keeping him on edge. Each time I stopped, his body would relax only for a moment before I started again, sending him into another fit of laughter. The anticipation of the next tickle attack only served to make each round of tickling all the more intense.

After a couple minutes, I stopped pausing. I didn’t signal any change in intention at all, I simply started scribbling my fingers and didn’t stop. At this point he was barely even blinking. The manic look in his eyes was one I’d missed for months, seeing it again was surreal.

He looked from left to right, and back to left. He looked confused, attacked, betrayed. He expected me to stop, he expected a quick breather, even if it was only a couple seconds long, but he didn’t get one.

I saw a glimmer of hope in his eyes for way longer than I’d expected, the seemed to really want to believe I’d stop at some point.

I didn’t.

My fingers danced across his sensitive skin, eliciting a burst of laughter from Johnny. His body bucked and squirmed beneath me, but the restraints held him firm. I was relentless, my fingers spidering and wiggling in his pits as I explored every inch of the sensitive area.

His laughter filled the room, bouncing off the walls and echoing back to us. It was music to my ears, the sweet melody of ticklish torment. His eyes were squeezed shut and his head thrashed from side to side as he tried to escape the relentless tickling. But there was no escape, not from this …

40 minutes in …

I varied my technique, sometimes using the pads of my fingers to knead the sensitive skin, sometimes using my nails for a more intense sensation. Each change elicited a new wave of laughter from Johnny, his body writhing in ticklish agony.

“I CAAHAAN’T TAKE THIIIHIHIS!—” Johnny’s voice was getting weaker and weaker, his begging and demands turning into whining, “—IT’S TOOOOHOH MUCH! STOP!—”

I chuckled in entertainment.

“—I CAN’T DO IT!—” He declared.

“You can, and you are!” I pointed out, “You might hate it, but you can take it, you’re doing it right now! Don’t lie to me, Johnny,” I surprised myself with how amused I sounded.

I lifted my fingers from his armpits and watched as he visibly relaxed, his body sagging against the restraints. He was panting the hardest I’d ever seen him pant, watching his ribcage expand and contract was nothing short of extraordinary.

"Hold on," I said, a mischievous smile playing on my lips. "Let's play a little game. I'm going to trace shapes into your armpits, and you have to guess what they are."

Johnny's eyes widened, and he swallowed hard, "I-I can’t! I’m too ticklish! Please, can’t you just take it easy for a couple minutes?” He looked up at me, pleading.

Without responding, I lowered my fingers back to his armpits and started to trace a shape. I moved slowly, my fingers delicately gliding over his sensitive skin.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck! This is gonna, like, suck!” Ahh, there it was! Johnny thinking out loud!

Johnny's eyes squeezed shut as he tried to concentrate on the shape I was making. His laughter turned into a stifled giggle, his lips twitching as he tried to suppress it.

“Go easy, at least!” He sounded frustrated. “Hey! Go easy, dude!”

“I’m barely even touching you, Johnny. Any looser than this and I’d basically be tracing the air!”

He stopped speaking. Watching him focus so much of his energy at figuring out what I was drawing into one of the most sensitive spots of his body was something I’d never forget.

After a couple seconds of me repeating the same movement over and over, Johnny guessed.

"A square!" Johnny gasped out, his voice shaky with restrained laughter.

"Very good, Johnny," I praised, grinning down at him.

Without a break, I continued with a new shape, my fingers tracing a triangle this time. His miniature eruptions of laughter began again, his body squirming beneath me as he tried to figure out the shape.

"I... I can't ... It's too much ..." Johnny stammered, his eyes watering from the intensity of the tickling.

"Come on, Johnny, you can do it," I coaxed, my fingers continuing their relentless tracing, "What's the shape?"

"A... A triangle!" He finally blurted out, his laughter reaching new heights as I confirmed his guess with a simple nod.

“Good,” I laid my palms flat over his armpits, allowing him to breathe, “Very good, Johnny.”

“A-are we done with this, now? Can we please, like, just be done?” He sounded desperate, pleading.

“We are not,” expected realization covered his face, “This last one will be a little trickier, Johnny. I’ll be tracing two different shapes into your armpits, and you have to guess both. I won’t accept only one answer, you have to figure out both simulatenously.”

He looked at me as if he regretted the moment he’d first stepped foot into this room, which he probably did, “Wh-wha-”

“I’ll give you a hint, though,” I interrupted, “These aren’t regular shapes.”

His head slumped down in my lap, and he expressed himself with two simple words, “Fuck you,” he sounded determined and whiny at the same time, I couldn’t stop myself from giggling a bit.

I started lightly tracing, intentionally pressing too softly for him to feel it properly.

“Fuck!” He had a look that said ‘I can’t believe I’m saying this’, “Go harder! I can’t feel it!” He stared at the ceiling like he despised his own mouth for speaking such words.

“Okay, Johnny! If you say so!” I fully laughed in amusement, before tracing significantly harder.

“NO!” He yelped, “That’s too haaahahard!”

“You asked for it, Johnny!” I reminded him, “Now, guess!”

He endured the tracing for a couple seconds, non-stop giggling escaping his mouth.

“A-another triihihangle!” He could barely speak, “Aaahand… a-a cross? An ‘X’? With a-a ciiihihircle?”

“Make up your mind, Johnny!” I couldn’t stop grinning, it took basically all of my energy to keep myself from bursting out laughing.

“A triangle,” he swallowed down his giggling, “A-and a circle with a cross!” He managed to sound like someone who’d won the lottery, and like someone who’d lost any and all hope, at the same time. I was honestly impressed!

“Incorrect,” I chuckled, happy to reenact what the Masked Tickler had done to me. I checked the timer, and it read ‘44:36’. I decided to hurry in wrapping the game up, so I could resume my exploration of the ticklish, hairy, depths.

“They’re letters, Johnny,” I revealed, “How about this? You allow yourself to simply feel my tracing for a minute and a half, without any begging or guessing, and I’ll stop for a second to allow you to guess in peace. Does that sound good?” I made sure to speak in a tone that sounded like I was being outlandishly generous with my offer, when in reality I simply wanted to watch his focus, “Oh, and your eyes must remain open. Blinking is allowed, but nothing else. Do we have a deal?”

At this point, I was tracing too hard for Johnny to actually provide me with a verbal response, so he nodded frantically, which only rubbed against my erection and filled me with even more lust to destroy him.

I began my tracing.

“—Aaahahahahahhahaahahahahahah st—”, he stopped himself from begging, clearly remembering the deal. A part of me was happy he’d stopped ignoring me, while the other part was prepared to make him wish he had.

I continued my repetetive movement, watching him. His eyes were wide open, without blinking even once. Watching him try to comprehend what was happening, at the same time as trying to withold information and figure out what the fuck I was doing to his armpits was a glorious sight.

“You know,” I began another offer, “If you want, you don’t need to figure out the letters. You can just give up the information, and I’ll stop completely!”

He shook his head hard.

I knew this wasn’t going to break him, I knew nothing I’d done so far had even come close. I was savouring every second I could have with Johnny, but I knew that as soon as the time started to run out, I’d simply do something I’d discovered during our first session, while Peter was interrogating Joshua, to break him. He wouldn’t be unable to handle it, I was completely sure of that.

I continued watching him as I traced on and on, his eyes staring straight into mine as he tried to handle what was happening to him.

Oh, what I wouldn’t have given to read his mind right then and there.

Once the time had passed, I laid my hands flat over his armpits and allowed him to breathe. He was panting his tongue hanging out of his mouth. After a couple seconds, I asked my question.

“What letters was I tracing, Johnny?”

He spoke with determination and security that almost made me nervous.

“J -pant- and A …”

“Correct!” I clapped my hands only the once, “I’m so happy you figured it out, since it means I can do this again!” And with that, I sent both my hands into his pits with all my might.

I was determined to push Johnny to his limits, to extract every last laugh from him. And with each peal of laughter, with each desperate plea for mercy, I knew I was succeeding.

The tickling session continued, my fingers unyielding in their torment. Johnny was at my mercy, and I was relishing every second of it.

55 minutes in …

At this point, his laughter was a constant stream of yelling. His sweat worked as a thick layer of lubrication, elevating his ticklishness more and more the more I tickled.

He’d lost any and all control of his tongue, it was wagging from side to side as he thrashed and twister, his slight dribbling working as even more lubrication.

The more I tickled, the more his body would increase it’s own ticklishness, not to mention the fact that he was thrashing so much I could’ve probably just left my fingers in one spot and he’d do take care of the tickling all by himself.

Suddenly, I stopped. For the first time in a while, Johnny got the chance to blink. He blinked rapidly a handful of times before closing his eyes and sinking down, his head almost melting into my crossed legs.

I, once again, laid my hands flat over the expanses of his armpits. After around half a minute of panting, Johnny spoke. My eyes were both keeping track of the timer, and the perfection that was Johnny’s abs as he breathed heavily.

“A-are we done? Did I do it?” He sounded both hopeful and desperate simultaneously.

I ignored his question.

“I’ve had my fun with you, but now it’s time for you to give me what I want. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. It’s your choice, Johnny,” I looked at the timer: ‘56:13’, “What is the information?” I placed all my fingertips on his armpits, ready to strike.

Johnny chuckled arrogantly, “You haven’t been able to break me yet, fucker! What makes you think I’ll just respond?” He wasn’t even looking at my fingers, he truly thought he could handle me. I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You know, Johnny, this isn’t my first time tickling you at all,” I decided to finally tell him, by simply sliding my fingers off his pits, and gripping them from the side, “Do you remember this?”

Confusion covered Johnny’s face.

I placed both my thumbs at the centres of his pits, and rested them there, as a look of realization washed over Orlando. Realization that was quickly replaced by dread.

“Y-you… You’re The Masked Tickler? The one who…” his eyes shot from side to side as he stared at my thumbs as if they were swords about to slice him in half.

“That, I am, my friend. And if you know that, you also know that I’m aware if what these thumbs do to you. Are you ready to give up the information now, Johnny?” The look on his face was the best thing I’d seen since my wedding day. It was pure dread, a knowledge of what was coming mixed with delusion and hope of being wrong.

I was utterly consumed by the power I held over him, the control I had over his laughter, his body. It was intoxicating, and I reveled in it.

I looked at the timer: ‘57:06’

I watched confidence take over him, the dread still very much present.

“You keep looking at that timer, that must mean your time’s almost run out. Do your worst, mother fucker, I can take it!” Seeing him that confident and assured almost made me feel sorry for him. I almost didn’t want to destroy it. Keyword being ‘almost’.

He planted his head in the very middle of my seated position, and braced himself.

“Well then, you leave me no choice, Johnny. I do want you to know, though …” I couldn’t stop my face from twisting into a grin. “ … I’m not sorry in the slightest …”

I pressed, as hard as I could, with both thumbs simultaneously.

His back arched as he inhaled his largest breath yet, before his back slammed back down against the rack. His head was lifted out of my lap, his breath expelled in a single sentence.

“—TOM HOLLAND’S ON THE RUN!—”