SHORTS NO. 3 - ‘NOT JUST A FEATHER’
This story takes place shortly after ‘Orlando’s Awakening’
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One rainy Sunday afternoon, Joshua arrived at the MyBuddiesFeet studio, where he slid his fingertips over the back of the tickle chair positioned in the middle of the room.
“You’ve had me all kinda ways … ” Joshua smirked, “… But I haven’t had the chance to sit in one of these, yet …”
Peter unlocked the stocks and then patted the leather seat.
“What are you waiting for?” He said.
Joshua kept his eyes on Peter as he shrugged off his denim jacket.
Peter folded his arms and watched Joshua undress, a calming silence filling the studio.
Joshua yanked off his t-shirt, pulled down his jeans and kicked off his Converse.
He stepped out of the denim, climbing into the tickle chair in just a pair of black briefs and pink socks.
“Would you mind if Bulk joins me this time?” Peter asks, securing Joshua’s right wrist above him as his assistant entered the studio, “You’ll like him; he’s a huge fan of yours and almost as sadistic as I am …”
Joshua glanced up at the tall, muscular gym addict as he stood towering behind the tickle chair
“… Heh, almost …” Bulk presented that shark-like grin.
“Sure,” Joshua watched Peter strap his left wrist to the top left corner of the chair, “I can take two studs at once …” he casually announced.
Bulk chuckled, picking out two seagull feathers from the nearby bag of tickle tools as Peter secured Joshua’s ankles in the stocks.
“You’re right, Pete,” he snarled, approaching Joshua’s left side where he began to stroke at his ribs, “He’s cocky,” causing the twenty three year old to jolt in alarm, giggles already leaving his mouth.
“Oh, wait! We’re, we’re starting already?”
Peter snuck his fingers into the warm depths of Joshua’s right underarm, their strength invading past armpit hair and an already thin layer of sweat.
“You know I like taking you by surprise,” Peter took his touch further into Joshua’s pit, scratching and stroking at the fleshy, hyper ticklish delve as Peter danced his fingers up and down Joshua’s left side, “Besides, why hold off? We have The Joshua Bassett locked up, with all of his most sensitive areas exposed for us to play with. We’d be stupid to waste our time …”
“Mnn!—” Joshua arched his back, “—I, I guess that’s tr, true!” Once again, he showcased that streak of cockiness, “I uh, I am quite the catch!” Joshua grinned as he glared down at Bulk’s exploration, alarmed by how quickly his ticklers had began their attack, “I, I always forget how ticklish I am until it’s too late!” He admitted, his shoulders lifting and dropping, his torso wriggling within the chair as his sides and right armpit were tormented by his ticklers, “Wow, jeez, uh, no easing me in this time, huh!”
As the pressure of Peter and Bulks touch began to increase, it became very clear to Joshua that ‘easing him in’ was something they had absolutely zero intention of entertaining …
After a few minutes of taking Joshua by surprise, where he squirmed so hard within the tickle chair he had caused it to rattle and creak, Bulk handed Peter a feather whilst keeping one for himself.
“You always use your fingers, Pete. You ever gone over him with just a feather?” Bulk suggested, his feather fluttering around the long, silky smooth lengths that made up the toes of Joshua’s right foot.
Peter began to wiggle his feather across Joshua’s left toes, “Oh yeah, dozens of times. He’s feather ticklish, f’sure …” sending the young singer into a frenzied thrash where he kicked his legs and twisted his feet from side to side, his toes flexing and curling under the feathers relentless flutter.
“Hey! Quit it, what the—” Joshua bit his lip, refraining from cursing, “—No, guys, not two at once, come on! That’s, that’s so ticklish, holy sh—” he pressed his lips down hard, squeezing his eyes shut, always refraining from swearing, Peter now looping string around his big toes and index toes, pinning his feet back against the stocks to keep them fixed still …
“You just said you could take two of us at once, Joshua! What, you changed your mind already?” Peter taunted.
Joshua grunted into his chest, “—I, I mean feathers! Heh, hey! Wait, I uh, I can’t move my feet! Aw, this sucks!—” he huffed and panted, the feathers now gliding between his toes, his eyes widening, his eyebrows lifting, his mouth splaying out, “—Oh! Oh my god! Gah! Okay! Alright! Enough with the feathers, guys! Please, stop it!—” Joshua had barely been in the tickle chair for more than six minutes and the feathers had already driven him to a state of flustered bewilderment, as they continued to flutter across the bottoms of his feet, “—Oh my god, this is unreal!—” he proclaimed.
Joshua threw his head back against the tickle chair, his fists curling into balls as he glared into the studio’s ceiling light, the fact that he could be this ticklish overwhelming him in ways he couldn’t quite understand.
How could something so soft, so harmless, so gentle, cause such an intense reaction?
Peter took just the tip of his feather across the arch of Joshua’s silky smooth right sole; the sharpness of the feathers end brushing ever so carefully across the ticklish landscape, causing Joshua to lift his chest and heave in more air, so he could expel it out into the studio in the form of heavy, strained, breathless laughter, “What’s wrong, Joshua?” Peter asked, “It’s just a feather!”
Joshua’s face had started to boil pink; sweat covered his cheeks, his curls of hair began to litter the top half of his head, all whilst Peter knelt at his feet with his feather, stroking the betweens of Joshua’s toes with the tickle tool, transforming Joshua from a once eager ticklee, to a hysterical and agitated mess.
“Peh, peh, Peter, come on, man!” Joshua growled, “It’s NOT just a feather!” He yelled, unaware that those words had been said by hundreds of House of White Feathers ticklees over the many decades they had operated, “Oh lord, please, come, come on, man! The feh, feather feels too ticklish, man, oh dang, that’s so sensitive, oh, oh Lord, come on, man, tickle someplace else, I, I can’t take it, fuck, go anywhere else, please, I’m begging you, my feet can’t take the feather, guys! Come on, not the feathers, oh shit, not the feathers, man, enough with the feathers, man, please, oh Lord, oh LORD, take the damn feather someplace else!”
Peter glared up at Joshua.
“Whatever you say, Bassett … “
Joshua thrashed his head from side to side as the feather fluttered around his right armpit, the softness of its touch far worse than fingers or an electric toothbrush, something that confused him beyond comprehension.
Unable to breathe and with a face now saturated in perspiration, Joshua could only heave out his giggles and laughter as he threw his torso across the padded back of the tickle chair, the device he sat tied to now wobbling under his struggling strength.
Unable to speak and only able to acknowledge the feather brushing repeatedly over his armpit hair, Joshua simply had no choice but to endure the feathers presence as it journeyed around his peck, the lower space of his bicep, across the smooth skin between his pit and shoulder, non stop, without pause between strokes, alarming and panicking the twenty three year old as his feet continued to kick within the stocks.
Peter could make out the word ‘please’ as Joshua spat and breathlessly attempted to beg, his eyes watering, his head twisting from left to right, “—Please—”, right to left, “—Please!—”, left to right as the feather continued to flutter over his right underarm, “—Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease!—” …
Only when Peter acknowledged Joshua’s inability to control his lack of oxygen did he decided to stop, sliding the feather out from Joshua’s furry armpit as Bulk picked an electric toothbrush out of the bag.
“Yup,” Bulk said, “You’re right … Feather fucking ticklish, that’s lightning in a bottle, right there.”
Peter watched Joshua hang his head over his chest as he sucked up dribble and giggled incessantly into his right collarbone.
“How you feeling, kid?” Peter asked.
Joshua slowly lifted his head and narrowed his eyes at Peter.
“… That all you got?” He grinned.
Peter raised his eyebrows.
“Bulk,” Peter addressed his assistant but kept his eyes on Joshua, “Give The Clown a call, and The Masked Tickler whilst you’re at it. Tell them to come here, right away …”
As Bulk left the studio, with The Clown and The Masked Tickler ready on speed dial, Joshua’s flirtatiously daring expression turned into a look of dire concern.
“… And make sure they each bring a feather,” Peter said.
YOU CAN FIND MORE JOSHUA BASSET CONTENT IN JOSHUA’S WORSHIP AND ORLANDO’S AWAKENING