“Hello, Tom. I’m Peter.”

Tom’s hazel brown eyes crossed in the middle as Peter extended his hand, his fingertips inches away from Tom’s face.

Tom sat in a navy blue leather recliner, his Nike Air Max 97 clad feet locked into stocks attached to the recliners end, his wrists strapped tightly to the seat at either side of his waist by velcro cuffing.

He wore only his footwear, his underwear clad body toned and tanned by the sun from the recent summer, its reluctance to fade only complimenting Tom’s athletic figure.

“Hello mate,” Tom clenched his fists and yanked his arms only an inch or so upward, his bondage keeping him from being friendly with Peter, “I’d shake your hand but they er, wanted to make sure I was all prepped and ready for you …” Tom turned his head to the right, where he took in the sight of two narrow screens showcasing a digital footprint on each, their tall stance surrounded by an open studio and bright lighting, “… Ready for this …”

Peter chuckled as he adjusted the camera stand and connecting camera, “Yes! Exciting, isn’t it? A foot tickling unlike anything you’ve ever experienced …” he positioned the camera lens so that it captured both of Tom’s soles front on, as well as his bare torso and face, “… A foot tickling unlike anything you’ll ever experience again …”

Tom curled his toes within the confines of his socks and the trainers he had owned for the best part of two years; since being contracted by The House of White Feathers over eighteen months ago, his feet had endured all kinds of tickle torment, but for some reason, Peters ominous tones made him believe that this unique experience, this first ‘test’ of many, might just be the most intense act of dedication to his body from the ankle down yet.

Much to Tom’s surprise, he found himself responding playfully, despite the dire sense of impending doom.

“We’ll see about that,” he could not hide the twinkle in his eye as Peter’s eyelashes fluttered shut.

A booted foot from outside nudged the studio door inward.

“Sorry I’m late—”, Jake seemed out of breath, “—I got a little lost, this place is like a maze …” he arrived in front of Tom and beside Peter, cradling a laptop and tablet at his chest, “Tom! Hey, buddy …”

“Jake!” Tom cheered, almost leaping away from the recliner, his obvious restrictions keeping him from doing so, “What are you doing here!” He looked as energetically excited as a puppy would, once reunited with their owner after a long time apart, “The contract said I wasn’t allowed to contact you guys, I promise I wasn’t being a twat!”

Jake felt his heart sting at the sight of Tom expecting a hug, “He found my weakness, kid. Used it against me …” after all, he had to abide his own contractual protocol - ‘only touch The Object to tickle him’, “… I gave in, told him what he wanted to know, that I was the one who wrote the note about not trusting Harrison …” Jake perched on a stool handed to him by Peter, “… I don’t know why he wanted to hear it so bad! He’s a—”

“—A perfectionist,” Peter admired, taking the tablet from Jake, unlocking it with his thumbprint, “A genius, a mastermind,” he eyed the studio ceiling for better verbs, “An intellectual prodigy, a—”

“—I was gonna say ‘asshole’…” Jake offered Peter a flat-browed glare.

Tom stifled a giggle.

Peter narrowed his eyes and began to locate Tom’s digital footprints.

Jake sat ready, his fingertips on the laptops keyboard, his muscular strength now dressed in a sweater and cargo pants, “He had to know everything—”, he spoke to Tom as if Peter were not in the room, “—He said he’d only stop if I agreed to be ‘The Notetaker’, on all your tests—”, as if it were two good mates forgetting the acquaintance in the background, “—I think he thought it was ironic, that he broke me by forcing me to face up to the thing I should’ve done better,” he shrugged, “I don’t know. Either way, I’m so glad it’s over and, man, hey!” Jake moulded into a brotherly form of support almost straight away, “At least now you’ve got a friendly face with you during all this, huh?”

Tom smiled so hard his chest lifted.

“It’s so good to see you, Jake,” it had been six months after all, “I gotta ask, by ‘he’, are you referring to—”

“—The Major—”, both Jake and Peter said his name in unison.

Tom winced, “I’m so sorry, mate. He’s the last person I wanted you to deal with. Bloke seems like a right piece of work—”

“—Oh, you have no idea …” Peter took a voice recorder from his trouser pocket and hit the record button with his thumb, “… Alright, enough chit-chat, let’s begin …” he cleared his throat as Tom adjusted himself in his seat and Jake bought the laptop further up his lap.

“… The Object is seated, wearing his own pair of navy blue boxer shorts and chosen socks and footwear, on a recliner designed just for his level of ticklishness … He is otherwise unclothed …” Peter paced around the screens, the studio lighting, Tom himself, “… His wrists have been secured to the base of the seat, his ankles locked and restrained into our finest set of wider-length stocks …” Peter kept the voice recorder right beside his mouth, “… It should not be too comfortable, it should not be too uncomfortable … The balance should feel neutral …” he took a step towards Tom and then held the voice recorder below Tom’s chin, “… Object, please can you confirm.”

Tom coughed away a dryness in his throat and looked down into the voice recorder as he spoke.

“Couldn’t be cosier,” he muttered.

Jake smirked, his eyes still focusing on the brightness of his newly acquired laptop screen.

Peter snatched the voice recorder back to his own lips as he strolled casually to the corner of the studio, “Each part of Test 001 will be split into seven sections, based on the intel and data retrieved by Mr. Maguire yesterday afternoon …”

Tom jumped up, “I wondered why he kept apologising! …” He tutted, “… All that poking and prodding with that bloody pen, drove me nuts!” He sat back down with a bounce and shot a frustrated look at the digital imprints of his own feet on the screens towering over him, “Seven individual sessions? Just on this test? I’ll be booking that physio Miller mentioned, that’s for sure …”

“… Each section has been programmed to pull the utmost, most sincere responses from The Object’s feet,” Peter continued, picking up a medium sized tool kit from the floor, “Each section is titled with a word specifically included to act as a subconscious trigger,” he walked back to Tom and Jake and placed the tool kit at the base of the recliner, “Each section has been schemed to help us further understand the best methods and techniques in handling feet as hyper sensitive as The Object’s,” Peter addressed the camera, crouching down opposite the lens, a large grin spreading across his face, “… Don’t you just love to study?”

Peter placed the voice recorder on the floor and then unzipped the tool kit, keeping it out of Tom’s sight.

“What are you gonna do, with all this stuff you learn?” Tom peered over the stocks, unable to see the contents of the kit, much to his own frustration, “It all just sounds like a bit of an excuse to see out a tamer version of that Session 666, if you ask me …”

Jake pursed his lips, “Oh, you found out what that was?”

Tom shaped his mouth into a little ‘o’ … “Don’t even go there, mate.”

Peter began to unlace Tom’s left Nike.

“It’s been our goal for many decades, to find someone like you,” he picked at the lace like it were a sweet wrapper, “Look at it this way … These trainers of yours, they look pretty worn, pretty loved, am I right?” Peter kept his hand around the rubber sole of the left Nike.

Tom nodded quietly, keen to understand where Peter would be going with his analogy.

“Dog walks, running, hours on the basketball court …” Peter kept the trainer on, admiring their faint stink and dirt marks across each side, “… You have them on often, because you value them. I bet, when you first received them, they were another level of special, correct?”

Tom nodded a second time, this time with a reminiscing smile lifting his lips upward.

“I searched all over London for my size. Couldn’t find them anywhere.”

Peter sat on his kneecaps, his eyes on Tom’s Nike’s, “And when you finally purchased them, what did you do?”

Tom nodded for a third time, this time slower, this time coming to terms with Peter’s point.

“I displayed them in my bedroom. Cleaned them with protection wipes. Had a go at anyone who even laid a fingertip on them …” Tom looked into his lap, his own majestic level of ticklishness no longer just a thing to be examined, but a thing to be respected, “… I think I started wearing them like, two months later,” he laughed.

Peter winked at Tom, their minds now connected by a mutual moment of tenderness.

“Alright!” Peter clapped his hands together, his eyes shooting over to Jake, “Get ready, Notetaker. We’re gonna make a start, with socks on first …” he then shot a mischievous scowl to Tom, but directed his voice towards the voice recorder, “… The Tickler is now gingerly removing The Object’s footwear …” he began to tug away at Tom’s left Nike, “… I am gradually revealing a socked heel … Now a socked arch … Now five socked toes … Inch by inch, little by little …”

Tom shuffled forwards, his left Nike silently leaving his left socked foot

“You can just call me Tom, you know …” he scoffed, “… The Object sounds a bit daft …”

“The first section out of seven in Test 001 is titled ‘Passion’ …” Peter explained, his fingers now unlacing Tom’s right Nike, “… I am now referring to The Object as ‘Tom’, due to The Objects disliking of such an official term …” he carefully pulled away the trainer, chuckling in disbelief as his eyes took in the sight of Tom’s narrow shaped, perfectly sized socked feet, trapped in their bondage and ready for his assessment, “… The view is extraordinary …” Peter always considered the voice recorder, “… The aroma of each socked foot subtle yet fragrant, their attractive positioning locked and ready, only able to endure my touch …”

Peter respectfully and neatly placed Tom’s footwear side by side, at the base of the recliner, “… I’m a huge fan, Tom, this for me really is a dream come true …” Peter admitted, his hands cautiously taking Tom’s left foot in a firm grasp where he started to kindly massage it, “… Now it seems too obvious that the dupe you provided wasn’t you! You’re unique, not just another toy to play with, your sensitivity is unmatched … Oh!—” Peter excitedly faced the voice recorder in its laid out position on the floor, “—I can literally feel him retracting from what’s to come, and I haven’t even started yet …”

Tom bit his lower lip, his left leg tugging a little, “What’s my safe word, mate?” He spoke urgently, “—I’m gonna need a safe word …”

“There isn’t one,” Peter announced, “Not for this part of the test,” he admired the digital footprints lighting up the screens surrounding Tom, “Notetaker, please share level seven sensory spots on both of Tom’s feet,” Peter’s firm touch lessened into a gradual stroke, “I want to ease him in …”

Tom lunged forwards with dedicated strength, the recliner shaking beneath his weight, his socked feet creating a stubborn X shape with all ten toes scrunched tightly …

“Oi!”

Peter chuckled.

“See, that is what I’m talking about!” He caressed Tom’s left socked foot with the very tips of his fingers, barely touching the thick white cotton that covered the landscape of Tom’s sole, “He has already yelled the infamous OI! and it has only been a matter of seconds …” the voice recorder took in Peter’s detailed description of Test 001 as Tom grunted and kicked, “… The oi filled the room with its volume, this young man has a commanding voice and he isn’t afraid to use it … What I love the most, however, is his inability to even try to take it, to stand it - he simply can’t. His ticklishness is no different to the rest of his personality; it is honest, raw, open, vulnerable, something he cannot hide … ”

Suddenly, a singular individual glowing point beeped quietly on the digital footprint’s showcased on the screen, as Jake tapped away at the laptop.

“Level seven points are …” Jake lifted the laptop screen to his face, “… Hmn, there’s only one … All other sensory spots on the bottoms of Tom’s feet are a ten, there’s nothing below a seven …” he then nodded at the stocks, “… However, the level seven spot can be located at the lateral nerve … the—”

“—The ball of the foot …” Peter finished Jake’s directive for him, pressing his index finger over the ball of Tom’s left sole where he actioned a determined scribble, “… Right here —”

Tom’s left foot scrunched into itself, “AH!—”

His reaction was fierce, from the depths of his throat, his right foot stretching over to protect the spot under attack, “Wanker!—”

Breath burst out of his nostrils in the form of a flustered whine, his knees bending into repetitive kicks, the toes of his right foot flexing and curling, deluded in their attempt to push away Peter’s scribbling, “Gettoff!—”

Tom gasped inward as Peter used his other hand to unapologetically scribble over the same spot, now actioning his exploration with all ten fingers …

“—Ahaha! You’ve got some sharp fingernails, mate!” Tom’s left foot danced with Peter’s scribble, it always lifted up or toe-pointed down, never able to reach away from the tickling, “You ever fancy giving them a snip? I packed a mani pedi kit!”

Peter drew a faint circle around the ball of Tom’s left foot, “No wonder your hands and feet always look so pristine …” he then jumped his touch over to Tom’s right foot, whilst he began to remove his sock, “… Now, from the data we’ve gathered, your body reacts exceptionally well to light touch …”

Peter peeled the sock over Tom’s right heel, up his arch and towards the base of his toes, “… But, it also reacts exceptionally well to sterner attempts … Luckily, we have the perfect tool for the job, one that contains the ideal mixture of both soft and hard …” as Tom’s right sock left the tips of his toes, Peter picked out an electric toothbrush from his tool kit.

Click! Bzzzz …

Tom felt the coolness of the studio air greet the now bare lengths of the long toes sprouting from his right foot, “Alright. Okay, how long are we doing this for?” He huffed, “Seven individual moments of hell … Surely, like, this is an all day thing? I don’t think I can do all day, oi!—”, he wagged his tongue as Peter pressed the very tip of the electric toothbrushes whizzing head against the naked ball of his right foot, “—Do I get a break? I told MJ I’d FaceTime here later in the—”, Tom’s foot retracted from the vibrating bristles as if they were a hot poker, his socked left stretching over to nudge the tool away, “—Oi, stop!—”

Jake’s fingertips tapped at the keyboard, “The Obj— Tom — is requesting an end, and The Tickler is only on a level seven sensory spot, after three minutes …”

Bzzzzzz, bzzzzzz, bzzzzzz!

“Ahhh ‘MJ’ …” Peter drew constant circles across the ball of Tom’s right foot with the electric toothbrush, whilst using his fingernails to scribble over the socked ball of his left, “… The beloved Zendaya, your beautiful girlfriend …” both digital footprints showed blinking spots around the ball section, the data on the screens connected to the invisible marks made by Tobey’s Sensory Locator Pen, “… How does she feel about all this?” Peter expertly followed Tom’s thrashing feet, his touch never once leaving the soles he had fantasised about tickling since Tom’s name had landed within The HOWF’s data base …

Bzzzzzz, bzzzzzz, bzzzzzz!

“Oh! We row about it all the time!—” Tom grunted, his feet always either splaying outward or creating a determined X shape, the flapping movement never stopping, almost begging to be toe tied to make the whole test a little easier, “Mnn, yeah, that things for your teeth, mate! It’s not for tickling!—”, he cackled, his feet twisting and clapping as a level seven spot fell victim to toying analysis, “—You bloody sod! Get off!—”

Peter cocked an eyebrow, “You row about it? Intriguing … Do tell me more …” He held onto Tom’s bare foot, keeping it still, as if he were a hungry bear holding onto a squirming squirrel desperate for escape.

Bzzzzzz, bzzzzzz, bzzzzzz!

Tom wagged his tongue once again, panting and puffing as his foot was taken in a strict grasp, “Oi! Nosey …!—”, he kicked his legs as Peter pressed the whizzing tip of the electric toothbrush over the silky smooth ball of his sole, “Ah! Aahaha! Mnn! Mnn, it’s her bloody fault!—” Tom announced, “—Shhh, she’s the one who tried it, in that bloody interview!—”, Peter would tap the electric toothbrush over the ball area of Tom’s foot once, twice, three times, always lifting it up and away as soon as it made impact - such a teasing infliction was still enough for Tom to hiss and wince, “—Ah! Oh! Mnn!—” his foot always doing its best to tug and pull away.

“I see, so there’s some resentment there, I can understand … Since that interview launched, things for you haven’t been the same since …” Peter purred, “… Be careful with that feeling, it can ruin the special thing you both have …” he then began to remove the sock protecting Tom’s left foot, revealing just his heel for now, whilst still pressing the electric toothbrush over the ball of his right, “… Believe me, I’m proof of that …”

Bzzzzzz, bzzzzzz, bzzzzzz!

Jake’s mouth fell open as he watched Peter tuck the electric toothbrush under Tom’s sock, trapping the tool between the thick layer of cotton and the creamy, soft landscape that made up Tom’s left sole.

Tom’s eyes bulged out of his head as he felt the spinning bristles arrive over the ball of his left foot, “—OI, ‘ANG ON A MINUTE!—”, where Peter then readjusted Tom’s sock so that it returned over his heel, keep it completely on, containing the electric toothbrush securely in place, “—Wait, wait, wait! Ahaha! Ahahaha! Ahahahaha! Ahahahaha! Oi, oi! Ahahaha! No, no! N, nn, ahahaha! Ahahaha! WAIT! Get it out! Get it out!—”

Peter allowed the electric toothbrush to do the work for him, whilst now able to use all ten of his fingernails to scribble across the ball of Tom’s right foot, “—Gah! Gah! Ahahaha! Ahahahah! No, no! Wait, wait a minute! Ahahahah! Ahahahah, stop! Stop!—” Tom’s biceps bulged as he tried to throw his hands forward, his wrists pinned at his sides, his fingers flexing manically, his mind now having to cope with the fact that no matter how hard he flapped his left foot, the toothbrush did not budge, it remained pressed in place beneath his sock …

Bzzzzzz, bzzzzzz, bzzzzzz!

“—Ahahahahaha! Ahahahah! Oh, ahahahaha! Ahahaha! Ahahaha!—”, Tom’s entire body bounced and writhed, the recliner shaking and creaking every time his butt landed over leather, his panicked eyes darting from his left foot to his right, his right foot to his left, “—Ahahahah! Stop! Ahahahahaha, oh stop! Wait, wait, wait! Ahahahahah, bollocks! Ahahahaa!—”

Peter picked a second electric toothbrush out from the tool kit, switched it on and then sent the the whizzing tip directly to a specific squirming toe that had been eyeing him up since the sock whipped off.

“Such a gorgeous little pinkie …” Peter watched all of Tom’s right toes flex into a desperate splay as his little toe endured the buzz of a secondary electric toothbrush, causing Tom to leap forward in not only shock, but also admiration - Peter, so far, had already proved himself as quite the devilish tickler.

Bzzzzzz, bzzzzzz, bzzzzzz!

“You’re one of them, aren’t you!” Tom squealed, “Ahahahah! Ahahahaha! One of the in charge lot!—”

Peter could not wait any longer, “I sure as hell am,” he switched the second toothbrush off and decided to dial things up a notch, whilst the original electric toothbrush wedged inside of Tom’s sock nudged closer to the base of his toes, thanks to Tom’s rampant kicks, “Being in charge sure does make you hungry …” Peter bit down on the ball of Tom’s right foot and began to use his teeth as his tool, “Grah grah grah grah grah grah!—”, he took on the role of a starving monster, obsessed with Tom’s feet, his perfect toes and flawless soles, the only meal that would satisfy his perverse and horny appetite.

Tom erupted into a bewildered state where complex alarm and exhilarating excitement clashed together at one hundred and fifty miles per hour, all at once, “—OOOOH! AHAHAHAHA! AHAHAHAHA STOAHAHAHAHAHAP STOAHAHAHAHAHAP STOAHAHAHAHAHAHP!—”, he watched, just like Jake, with a wide open stare, his right foot be devoured by the intense bite and graze of Peter’s teeth as they nibbled and chewed across the ball of his right sole, “—MNN, NN! NN! NNO! AHAHAHAH! AHAHAHA! STOAHAHAHAHP! STOAAHAHAHAHAHAHP!—”, he wanted to shout ‘what are you doing!’, he wanted to scream, ‘that’s enough, that’s enough!’ but he could not formulate words due to the amount of laughter hurtling from his throat, “—GET OFF AHAHAHAHAH! AHAHAHAH! NO, PLEASE, PETER, MATE! AGH, OOH, SO BLOODY TICKLISH!—”

Tom’s left foot wagged as fast as a dogs tail, the toothbrush still wedged in place, now no longer tormenting the level seven spot of his ball, but the level ten spot of the base of his toes, as his right foot, now soaked in Peter’s dribble, had no choice but to be held in a tight grasp by hands eager to keep it in place, sharp edges of teeth practically feasting off the ticklish flesh that made up Tom’s right sole, “—OHH! SO, SO TICKLISH! MNN! AHH!—”, he winced between breathless chortles, the sensation cutting and agonising, whilst also highly sensitive and beyond intrusive, Peter now chewing down on his second to last right toe with a little more nip than expected, “—OI, MATE, THAT HURTS!—”

Tom told Peter off, a serious tone latching onto his call for quits - he hoped a whine in protest regarding pain instead of pleasure would cause Peter to stop, and just like magic, he did …

Peter shuffled away and wiped excess saliva his mouth, not apologising for a second, only grinning sadistically as he watched Tom naturally acknowledge his next predicament - the existing electric toothbrush still buzzing against the base of his left toes, still expertly contained by the sock he so casually had no choice but to still wear.

Bzzzzzz, bzzzzzz, bzzzzzz!

His watery eyes boiled towards his left foot, “—Mnn!—”, his pause to breathe ending too soon as the bristles whizzing across a level ten sensory spot caused his hearty laughter to return and for the left digital footprint to glow a bright blue, “—Blimey!—”, informing Jake that Tom’s left foot was currently enduring a hyper intense bought of electrifying sensations that the young ticklee simply just could not handle.

“Ahahaha! Mnn! Mnn! Gahahahah! Stop, switch it off, get it out! Ahahaha!—”, Tom became joyously furious, his hysterical anger presenting itself in hearty growls and frustrated grunts, his muscular legs always kicking within the stocks as his pretty face showcased a contradicting expression of utter glee; his grin was wide as ever, his glowing cheeks rosey and red, the creases either side of his eyes defined, “—Agahahah! Ahahahahah! Oh, ohahahaha! Stoahahahahp! When does it run out of battery! Ahahaha! Ahahaha!—”

Tom knew neither Peter or Jake would assist him, they sat there entertained, watching in silence as Tom remained bound to the recliner, wriggling intensely, leaping high, thrashing from side to side in his seat, all because of one single electric toothbrush wedged under a sock he bought from an Adidas shop two weeks ago

Bzzzzzz, bzzzzzz, bzzzzzz!

Tom, thoughtlessly and deluded in his decision making, began to use the lengthy toes of his right foot to free him from his tickle torment; with determined strength and a wet tongue poked out in focus, he contained the shrill in the depths of his chest - nostrils flared, fists curled into balls, his toes flexing, curling, stretching towards his left foot - he finally felt able to grab at the material of his sock with his big toe and index toe …

“Agh! Ah! Mnn, ahahah! Ah, mnn! Mnn? Mnn! Ah, oh, come on!—”, Tom turned his toes into fingers, clawing at the sock with enough strength that he eventually managed to lift the sock up to his arch, the electric toothbrushes plastic base now visible, “Ah! Haha! Mnn! Ahaha! Yes, get in!—”, with one fierce flap of his left foot, from left to right, the electric toothbrush fell free, the sock flying away from Tom’s foot, where it landed politely in Peter’s lap with a plop.

Peter picked up the electric toothbrush and switched it off.

Bzzzzzzzz — click!

Tom collapsed into the recliner, his sweaty back squeaking against leather, his chest heaving up and down, up and down, as he chuckled into his chest, “Bollocks! That wasn’t easing me in!” He offered Peter a playful glare as he sniffed and shook his head, “You got me there, mate,” He nodded at the tool in Peter’s hand, “That was bloody intense …”

Peter laid both of Tom’s socks over the top of the stocks.

“Well, what do I say! The Object demonstrated the exact thing I wanted him to … The name of this part of the test: passion …” Peter picked up the voice recorder with his other hand and spoke into it, “… When given no choice but to take matters into his own hands, or, ahem, in this case, his own feet, he used his only accessible limb to release and liberate himself from the current circumstance - the thought process lasted, what?—”, Peter looked at Jake, his Notetaker …

Jake looked at his notes on the laptop screen, “… Less than two seconds, boss.”

Peter kept the voice recorder at his chin as he admired the beauty of Tom’s tingling bare soles facing him.

“Impressive,” he trailed his tongue over his lips, “I’m learning things as well, you know …” he placed the electric toothbrush back inside the bag of tools, “ … Not only are Tom’s feet outstandingly ticklish …” he picked out a blindfold …

“… They taste great too,” he said.