T W O D A Y S A F T E R T H E A U D I T I O N
T H E M Y B U D D I E ‘ S F E E T S T U D I O
_________________________________________
“Hey, Johnny,” Peter waved from behind the camera, “Welcome back to the MyBuddiesFeet studio. How you doing today?”
Johnny sat on the edge of the tickle table, fully clothed, a polite smile decorating his handsome face as he tilted his head and leant back on his arms.
“Hey! I’m doing good,” he bit his upper lip nervously, “How are you doing?”
Peter smirked, impressed by how genuinely interested Johnny seemed at asking how he was.
“I’m great, thank you,” Peter adjusted the camera stand so that it fully captured the entirety of the tickle table, “So, thanks to your audition, our paying audience already know a lot about you. Who you are, why you’re here … And now they know how ticklish you are …”
Johnny chuckled into his lap, a blush of pink forming over both of his cheeks.
“They sure do …”
Peter stepped to the cameras side, “Why don’t you tell them, I’m sure they’d love to hear you say it …”
Johnny paused momentarily before lifting his head so quickly his long head of hair flicked away from his eyes entirely.
“I’m ticklish,” he scratched the back of his neck, unintentionally exposing the beauty of his right underarm.
“You’re more than just that, Johnny,” Peter pressed, “Go on, tell them, don’t be shy.”
Johnny cleared his throat, keeping his hand behind his head, that armpit now on full display.
“I’m … Insanely ticklish,” Johnny laughed, his eyes squeezing shut, “More ticklish than I realised. And it’s everywhere, too. Like, it’s crazy! Damn, I’m so, so ticklish,” he repeated, shaking his head in disbelief, “My friends better not see this,” he blinked, pointing at the camera, “Or any girls, too! You know my weakness now,” he leant back on his elbows, his flat stomach lifting slowly, dropping gently …
Peter stroked his chin, awe and admiration taking over him fully.
“You’ve just made a lot of people very happy, you know that?”
Johnny peeled his elbows away from the surface of the table, sat forwards and dropped his hands into his lap.
“That’s pretty cool …” Johnny’s grin was so wide and bright it nearly blinded Peter, “… I like, don’t see the point in taking it too seriously, ya know? It’s just tickling! I can take it. And, like, besides, you guys have paid for the production of my entire tour. Believe me, that’s made me very happy …”
“Sure, like you said, it’s just tickling …” Peter continued to stroke his chin slowly as he moved around the camera, “… Hey, lift your right foot, so the audience can see …”
Johnny shuffled over the edge of the tickle table and bent his left leg at the knee, “Okay,” raising his right foot so the sole of his trainer faced the camera.
He caught his tongue between his teeth, that grin still very present, as he wiggled his foot in the air, almost too aware of it’s power.
“Alright. I’m gonna say …” Peter tucked both hands into the pockets of his jeans, verbalising the thoughts that arrived in his head only a few days ago in this very studio, “… They’re a size nine … Nine and a half?”
Johnny kept his foot in the air, mostly because he hadn’t been asked to drop it yet.
“… Dude … ” Johnny clapped his palms together once, “How did you kn—”
Peter smirked.
“—Alright, rookie, sit back on the table,” he said, “Lets get you strapped in.”
Thirteen Minutes Into The Session …
🫴🏼 O R L A N D O ’ S A R M P I T S 🫳🏼
Johnny’s feet had been stripped of his brand new Nike trainers.
His socked soles faced the camera, all ten of his toes scrunched up in a fierce clench.
Peter knelt behind him, his index and middle fingers wiggling past Johnny’s pecks and into his underarms, where they invaded past sweaty armpit hair and then landed over the eventual moist, hyper ticklish flesh that made up one of Johnny’s most sensitive spots.
Johnny threw his torso back against Peter’s chest, squeezing his eyes shut, a loud, “NO!” leaving his mouth as the armpit tickling increased.
Breathless giggles followed; Johnny’s legs twisting and writhing over the surface of the tickle table, their surprisingly long length bound down at the thigh and ankle by leather strapping, his socked heels squeaking over the mattress …
“Holy shit man you’re driving me crazy!” Johnny cried, “Give me a second to catch my breath, dude, fuck!” He managed to say.
Peter remained ruthless in his method, wiggling his fingers in deeper, harder, more forcefully towards the very core of Johnny’s underarms, their scratch and presence merciless and constant, non stop and unapologetic.
Whilst Peter’s fingers had enjoyed pinching and grabbing between Johnny’s thighs, dancing and fluttering up his stomach and around his waist, their most favourite place to stay was the very depth of Orlando’s armpits, and Johnny knew it.
Johnny’s eyes widened as he continued to smack his shoulders and head against Peter’s chest and stomach, but this rebellious act proved useless; Peter just continued, working Johnny’s armpits and his armpits only.
“Please, oh god,” Johnny heaved through the loud bellows of laughter, his face creasing up, his eyes watering, his face shimmering with perspiration, “I think I’m hyperventilating!” He delivered his purposefully overdramatic statement in a grainy moan, his entire body shape distorting into manic writhes, kicks, stretches and thrusts as he tried to wriggle away from Peter, his hands reaching as far as they could around his own hip in an attempt to grab at Peter’s hands in a desperate attempt to stop him, “Fuck this is insane! How is it even possible to laugh this much!”
Every so often, Johnny’s overwhelmed glare would shoot down to his feet, where Bulk sat enjoying his view.
The muscular giant watched Johnny squirm and shout, curse and cuss, and to make things worse he would gently scratch underneath Johnny’s toes, causing the twenty year old to twist his left socked foot away, therefore having to deal with that teasing touch at one end of the table, whilst also having to handle the more mind blowing tickling taking place at the top end.
“Come on, man, really? My feet as well?” Johnny giggled, his cuffed-at-the-wrist hands still trying to stretch around his own torso, where they failed at taking hold of Peter’s fingers, “Get out of there you mother fucker! I’mma kill you!” Johnny warned, his feet wiggling from left to right as Bulk slid his index finger under Johnny’s socked toes.
The friction of Peter’s scratching fingers, as well as the sweat developing in Johnny’s underarms, had now created a natural lube that helped Peter’s persistent tickling effortlessly glide across the flesh non stop, causing Johnny to now scream out into the studio, his laughter so loud and out of control it made both Peter and Bulk not only grin at the same time, but raise their eyebrows in unison.
And it didn’t end there …
“Come up, Bulk!” Peter’s order came out as a desperate demand - he didn’t want to lose this moment, this out-of-breath struggle that he had successfully created within Johnny, “Lift his vest, get his stomach!”
Johnny began to squeal as he watched Bulk pick a feather out of the bag, leave his socked feet and turn to face him, his giant form mounting The Tickle Table so that he lay on his stomach, over Johnny’s left leg, the boys torso now only inches away from his shark-like face …
“No! No! No! No? No? Really? Seriously! Oh, come on!” Johnny couldn’t contain his laughter, his lips making a raspberry noise as Bulk peeled his vest up over his chest where the sweat caught it tightly just above his nipples, “Ppfffftttt!” Johnny sucked up spit, his eyes darting from left to right as he pressed his jaw down over his collarbone; his vision blurring, his spine aching, his navel now victim to the gentle flicker of Bulk’s feather …
Peter felt that hit of satisfaction as soon as the force of Johnny’s torso rubbed up against his stomach, his heels now digging into the surface of The Tickle Table in an attempt to shuffle himself away from Bulk’s feather, a feather travelling in a fast paced wiggle over his abs, across his bellybutton, towards his left hip and then over to his right …
Peter reminded himself to force Johnny further into oblivion by increasing his fingers pressure within each armpit.
He scratched and scratched and scratched, transforming Johnny’s hysterical laughter into maddened shouts, words and thought-out sentences that didn’t make sense to his ticklers but made some kind of sense deep within his mind …
“The feather sucks!” Johnny announced, in a fierce cry, “The feather fucking sucks!” He had no more time for politeness; swear words and cursing would be leaving his lips regardless of his intention to be a well mannered pop star, “Come on, Bulk, stop with the feather, man!”
Bulk stretched his sadistic grin further as he casually shrugged, throwing the feather over his shoulder, “Alright!” He warned, all ten of his fingers shaping into claws, their sturdy shape clamping down over Johnny’s stomach where he actioned a vigorous and penetrating tickle that ravaged Johnny’s tummy from his groin all the way to his pecs.
Johnny screamed so hard that his voice broke, his mouth opened so wide that Peter could see the glisten of his tonsils, his neck so thick with laughter it appeared that laughter was all that was inside Johnny; no more blood or oxygen, muscles or organs, just absolute lunacy contained within one vessel, a vessel with one purpouse and one purpose only …
… To expel the mania.
🚫 O R L A N D O ’ S S P O T 🚫
Johnny didn’t have much time to catch his breath or compartmentalise his thoughts before his vest was ripped off of his glistening torso and his sports socks were peeled away from his now very sweaty feet …
Panting, drenched in perspiration and with stomach decorated in tiny pinch marks and scratches, Johnny could do nothing but allow his ticklers to manhandle him into position …
Peter maintained his knelt position behind Johnny, keeping the young ticklee’s shoulders and head up so that the camera could catch every single flinch, every single expression of hysteria, every single spit of saliva that shot out of Johnny’s mouth anytime he howled into his chest…
Bulk perched at the corner of the tickle table, his fast fingers getting to work on Johnny’s slippery soles from heel to toe, transforming an already breathless Mr. Orlando into a surprised, alarmed and overwhelmed subject that couldn’t quite believe his feet could be tickled this way, this mercilessly, this suddenly, this professionally …
Johnny’s eyes widened as he watched Bulk retrieve a hairbrush - a tool that had already reduced him to a dribbling mess in his audition …
Johnny tried to speak, his armpits still occasionally falling victim to pinches and strokes thanks to Peter’s inability to leave them alone, whilst still knelt behind him.
“No, n-no, come, come oh, oh, oh, on—” Johnny gulped as Bulk curled his index finger and thumb around his left big toe, catching his foot and holding it in place, “—no, come on! Come on? Not the brush? Not the brush! Come on, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO!” Johnny pleaded, the plastic bristles landing across the arch of his foot, Bulk now actioning a repetitive scrub from left to right, side to side, non stop and with hardly any mercy in his movements, “Oh go-oh-oh-oh-ahahahahahaha-ahahahahaha-ahahahahahaha-aahahahahahaha- NO! No! No! No! No! No! No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO NO-ahahahaha-ahahahaha-ahahahaha-ahahahaah …” Johnny threw his torso back, his shoulders never hitting the surface of the tickle table, their shape always landing with a heavy thud against Peter’s chest, a chest now no doubt covered in bruises, “… No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no that feels too ticklish, man! That’s way too ticklish! That’s way too ticklish! Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god! Oh my god!”
Johnny, now twisting and kicking as if he were being electrocuted, felt his cheeks and neck boil red as he expelled another long and uncontrollable bellow of laughter that once again impressed both Peter and Bulk, who continued to transport their ticklee into a immense and staggering level of lunacy.
“I love his ‘no no no no no nos’,” Peter commented, a layer of his own perspiration developing across his forehead … After all, it wasn’t easy containing the struggles of this fierce, hyper ticklish young man, “He’s uh — mnn! — got some vocal chords on him, that’s for sure!”
With Johnny’s feet as sweaty as they were, no lubrication such as massage lotion or baby oil was required; the thin layer of perspiration across Johnny’s soles was enough to help heighten their level of sensitivity, as well as the hairbrushes glide, a glide that covered the entire expanse of insanely ticklish flesh that made up the bottom of Johnny’s left foot.
Bulk didn’t need Peter to tell him when it needed to be his turn.
As soon as he saw Peter slip away from behind Johnny’s back, Bulk knew his boss wanted a go at Johnny’s soles. So, he stood and swapped places with Peter; he perched behind Johnny’s back, giving his space at the bottom of the tickle table to Peter who, unlike Bulk, preferred a different type of tickle tool to torture feet as gorgeous as Johnny’s …
Johnny’s feet began to ache as they continued to twist and writhe, even if they weren’t being touched for a few seconds; his giggles persisted, his attempts to catch his breath failed, his eyes now watered so hard a single tear had made its way down his right cheek …
He shot forwards and began to shout at Peter, who decided to sit over Johnny’s left ankle, catching Johnny’s right foot between his thigh, now disallowing him from moving his foot around too much …
“No, no, no, no, no, no wait, don’t do that, don’t do that, man, come on, man, I can’t see! I can’t see what you’re doing!” Johnny grinned so hard he felt his jaw cramp up, “You mother f—!” He bit his lower lip, “Damn, this is crazy!” Johnny heaved in a large intake of breath when he heard a clicking noise, and then a buzzing noise, and then the viscerally unbearable feeling of an electric toothbrushes vibrating tip whizzing and spinning all around the fleshy, sweat soaked lengths of all five of his toes …
Both Peter and Bulk laughed in joyous satisfaction as soon as they heard Johnny begin to scream.
He shrieked in a high pitch squeal, his curling and scrunching toes unable to prevent the toothbrush and it’s vibrating journey between their wiggling shape, Peter now taking hold of Johnny’s foot by grabbing his big toe just like his buddy Bulk did just a few minutes ago …
With his foot pinned into place, caught between Peter’s thigh, his ankle strapped down, Johnny had no choice but to disregard all forced masculinity, to give up on putting on a ‘I can handle this’ show, to break entirely and simply revolt, rebel, react to the overwhelming sensory overload whizzing between toes curling so hard that they had started to spasm.
He kicked his legs and forced his waist away from the surface of The Tickle Table with such force that the entire table’s four legs lifted from the ground, landing heavily, the camera shaking from the impact.
Johnny repeated that move not once, not twice, but three times, to the point where Bulk had to readjust the camera after noticing it might slip free from the trembling tripod.
Peter narrowed his eyes and bit his upper lip in focus, keeping Johnny’s big toe firmly between his index finger and thumb, his other hand expertly journeying the electric toothbrush around, between, over and under all five of Johnny’s toes until, aha!
He had found the spot …
Just around Johnny’s second to last toe, right in the middle of the base, an area of wet, silky soft flesh that transformed Johnny from an angelic yet unruly ticklee, into a demonic, furious uncontrollable subject, his eyes so wide open they looked like they might bulge out of his head, his entire upper body now forcing itself forward so much his stomach lay flat over his left thigh, his mouth splaying open, brown chunks of hair littering his face, laughter bellowing out of his throat with such strength Peter could literally feel it land against his back …
Bulk, still by the camera, zoomed in on Johnny’s foot, allowing the camera to capture the electric toothbrush staying put over that toe as all other four toes wiggled and flexed in a manic squirm, Johnny’s sweat soaked sole rubbing, sliding, writhing, twisting between Peter’s thighs, the young man now thrashing so hard over the surface of the tickle chair that his right foot had started to successfully make its way out of the ankle restraint.
Before Bulk could step forward to stop it from happening, Johnny’s right foot slid out of the strap.
Peter gasped in shock as he watched Johnny free himself, his right leg now flaying and kicking out into the humidity of the studios air, his heel eventually making its way right into the centre of Peter’s spine where he kicked him repeatedly, unapologetically, his laughter still filling the room, until Peter finally stopped tickling that special toe with hat damn electric toothbrush …
Peter, chuckling in his own entertainment, stumbled away from The Tickle Chair and turned to face Johnny, an impressed look saturating his face.
Johnny, giggling and breathless, collapsed his upper body over the surface of the table with a heavy bounce, his free right leg draping over the side of the table in an exhausted dangle.
“—Holy shit—” Johnny exclaimed, his bloodshot eyes peering over his heaving chest where they scowled down at Peter, “—Never tickle me there again!” He warned.
“So, guys, what did you think of the video?”
Johnny props his iPhone against the window ledge, standing shirtless in his bedroom, wearing just sweat pants and a little necklace around his neck, his eyes taking in the feather emojis fluttering from the corner of the screen as dozens and dozens of House of White Feathers members join the exclusive, one of a kind Instagram live, hosted by the cult.
Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping!
@HOWFTickler998: OMG it was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen!
@HOWFTickler009: You couldn’t handle it. Such a cutie. We love how ticklish you are!
@HOWFTickler822: your ticklish body is insane johnny 😝 show us ur armpits plzzz???
@TheClown: My turn next.
@HOWFTickler704: Will you another session sometime soon? I’d love to see you get tickled by one of The Masked Ticklers
Ping!
@HOWFTickler501: Or The Four Masked Men! If he can’t handle two guys at once how will he handle four? 🤯
@HOWFTickler72: Show us ur soles.
Johnny chuckles, giving his new tickle fans exactly what they want, raising his right arm to expose his pit, a pit full of damp curls of hair that stare the growing audience directly in the face.
“Haha, guys, for real, like, it was such an incredible experience. I haven’t had that much fun in, like, such a long time …”
Ping!
@Spiderman2: When did you realise how screwed you were?
Johnny leans in closer to the screen and reads out loud a question.
“Spiderman two… ‘When did you realise how screwed you were’ … Oh gosh, like, as soon as Peter didn’t stop with my pits. Like, the dude just kept going and going and going, man, yeah, that’s gotta be it, that’s the moment I thought, damn, this is insane. Being tied up and tickled is so wild, man, unlike anything I’ve ever experienced in like, my whole entire life …”
Ping!
@HOWFTickler540: I’ve watched it again and again and again sooooo soooo soooo worth the money lol 😍 love how ticklish your toes are omfg
Johnny leans in even closer to the screen, his green eyes taking in every comment that appears.
“Haha, yup. Damn, my poor toes. They were itchy for weeks after …”
Ping!
@TheCops: We’d love to roll some ice down that bare stomach of yours, Mr. Orlando …
Johnny’s bushy eyebrows straightened into a deep frown.
“Ice?” He mumbled to himself, “What the f …”
Ping!
@HOWFTickler001: What was going through your head, from start to finish?
Johnny scratches his nose, standing back up straight as he continues to show off his impressive body and hyper ticklish underarms.
“What was going through my head? … Hmmm, I gotta say, when they first strapped me down, like, I kinda thought I could take it? But as the minutes went on and as it got, like, harder and harder it started to feel like, a rollercoaster ride, you know? And then towards the end they’d discovered spots on me I didn’t even know existed. That damn feather! Holy shit, the feather. I’ll never forget that, like, seriously, it was wild …”
Ping!
@justinbieber: I wanna get my hands on that second to last toe 😈
Johnny hid his face with his hands, whispering quietly into his palms, “I can’t believe Bieber is part of this …”
Ping!
@HOWFTickler002: Is that your first time, doing something like that, with another man?
Johnny’s hands slid away from his face slowly as his heart begins to pound beneath his chest.
“Yeah,” he confirms, swallowing down anxiety, “And apparently it wont be my last.”
✨O R L A N D O ’S
A W A K E N I N G ✨
A huge detail within the contract Johnny had, if at most, skimmed his eyes over just two days ago, was that at the end of the session he would be tickled naked.
Thankfully, Johnny was confident, willing and comfortable enough to go along with this final part of his tickle torture, mostly because it gave him a chance to catch his breath and wipe his eyes of exhaustion whilst he undressed, not to mention the fact it was the ‘deal breaker’ in regards to him receiving full financial support for his upcoming tour.
If he didn’t bow out this way, no funds would land in his account …
So, Johnny soon found himself back on The Tickle Table, however this time his shorts and underwear had been removed by his own swift hands and instead of being sat in a seated position, he now lay entirely on his back, his left wrist strapped to the top left corner of the table, his right wrist strapped to the top right corner; his naked torso, his armpits, his pointy nipples, hairless chest and narrow waist on full, complete display …
… Not to mention a surprisingly large cock and plump set of balls that lay flaccid between his thighs.
Johnny’s long legs were spread apart just as they had been throughout the past hour and a half; his thighs were once again pinned down by leather hooked over each kneecap and his ankles were secured to each corner of the table by the same strapping that bound down his wrists …
His soles faced the camera, his toes curling and scrunching in anticipation as he stared at the studios ceiling; his hair damp, his skin a little stinky from the body odour he had expelled during what he now saw to be the most physical endurance of his life.
Peter and Bulk wasted no time in returning to their ticklee with eager enthusiasm in their eyes, as soon as the camera went back into recording mode.
They wanted to ensure the session went out with a bang, so that meant focusing on two of Johnny’s weak spots at once …
Johnny threw his head over his chest as soon as he felt Peter sit back down over his left ankle, catching his left foot between his thighs once again, that strong index finger and thumb curling around his big toe …
“Oh man …” Johnny’s voice was filled with dread, he could feel the roughness of Peter’s denim jeans either side of his now entirely trapped foot - that’s how tightly contained Peter had secured Johnny’s left sole.
“Oh boy … ” Johnny arched his back as he watched Bulk walk to the top of The Tickle Table, his hands shaping into their signature claw-like shape, his shark-like grin reminding Johnny of how much the muscle-man revelled in driving ticklish twinks like Johnny absolutely insane, “Go easy on me, man, come on, dude,” Johnny raised both eyebrows as a promising idea arrived in the middle of his mind, “Hey! If, if you dial up the mercy I’ll promise I’ll put aside tickets for my show! As many as you want …”
For Bulk, Johnny’s face was upside down as he peered over at him from the standing position.
For Johnny, the view was more or less the same; except Bulk’s face wasn’t cute and pop-star-esque, it was blotchy, Shrek-like, aged and creased by years of steroids, gym classes, cocaine and a devious gay Florida party lifestyle …
Johnny gulped.
“Sorry, kid. Your music isn’t for me,” Bulk declared, his fingers wiggling and waiting to invade Johnny’s armpits, hovering inches above his underarm hair, until he heard the thing be needed to hear before making a start.
Click!
Btzzzzzzzzzzzz …
Johnny’s butt lifted off the table, where his squishy ass cheeks bounced over the tables surface repeatedly as Peter’s electric toothbrush buzzed and whizzed around the second to last toe of his left foot …
Johnny pressed his lips together, squeezed his eyes shut, curled his fists into balls as his entire body thrashed around, no laughter or giggling leaving his mouth for now …
The Tickle Table creaked and shook with every kick and pull of his legs; the simplicity of the electric toothbrush whizzing around the base of Johnny’s second to last toe being just enough to send the boy berserk, his entire body convulsing as he grunted and groaned, refusing to give his ticklers the hysteria they so desperately wanted to pull out of him.
“Mnn! Mnn! Mnnnn! Mnnn! Mnn! Mnnn! Mnn! Mnn! Mnnnn! Mnnn! Mnn! Mnnn!” Johnny kept his mouth sealed shut, as if it were stitched closed, his limp cock flapping about over his stomach as he bucked and rolled his hips and waist, his balls bouncing between his thighs with every squirm of his torso, “Mnn! Mnnn! Mnnnn! Mnn! Mnn! Mnnnn! Mnnn! Mnn! Mnnn! Mnnnn! Mnn—PAH!” Johnny gave up trying to contain his madness as soon as he felt Bulk’s fingers arrive at his armpits, their presence beginning with a gentle stroke over his underarm hair, enough for it to tickle so much that Johnny spat out a heavy breath followed by a steady, uncontrollable roll of laughter.
Peter had to wipe dribble away from the corner of his mouth as the view between his thighs started to arouse him in ways he couldn’t describe.
Seeing Johnny’s size nine, creamy white, hyper ticklish foot writhe around, rub against his jeans, twist and flex in a grasp successfully maintained by the strength of his own thumb and index finger curled tightly around Johnny’s left big toe … It was all too much, all to sexy to handle, too exciting to understand…
Peter continued to whizz, press, slide and drag the electric toothbrush around and across Johnny’s second to last toe, a spot that was most certainly driving Johnny absolutely wild as he wriggled and bounced over The Tickle Table, the studios spotlights lighting his naked body, the beams now reflecting off already appearing droplets of sweat that had started to arrive over his chest …
Johnny, breathless and done, shot alarmed looks at either of his armpits as Bulk increased pressure, taking his stroking fingers deeper into Johnny’s underarms where they scratched and rubbed, grazing forcefully over the now moist, hairy flesh that made up one of Johnny’s most ticklish areas.
"Alright, alright!” Johnny felt hot, bothered, his skin over heating with how much layers of energy his struggles were burning off, “Okay, okay!” He announced, “Stop! Stop!” He shouted, “Lemme out! Lemme out! I’m done! I’m done!” He decided.
Peter unhooked his index finger and thumb from Johnny’s left big toe, allowing the boy to move his foot a little more as the electric toothbrush continued to buzz around his second to last toe.
“We say when you’re done, Johnny!” Peter reminded, “I don’t have plans for the evening, do you, Bulk?”
Johnny looked up at Bulk, his eyes wide and afraid, urging him to not banter back, to not say what he thought he was about to say …
“No, no, no, oh, oh oh, oh no,” Johnny whined.
“I’m free aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaall evening,” Bulk winked at Johnny, reassuring him their tease was merely a joke, reinforcing the fact that this would eventually end, even if every minute felt like a lifetime.
Peter took his free hand and reached across the table, sending his fingernails over the sole of Johnny’s right foot, now tickling both of his feet at the same time.
“I thought you enjoyed this, Johnny? What’s wrong, you had a change of heart?” Peter asked.
Johnny yanked at his wrist restraints as Bulk continued to work his armpits, causing his breath to fall short; the giggles to last longer than he could control, for his shoulders to throb, to ache, to persist in lifting up and down as if that would do something, anything to prevent Bulk from staying deep within the hairy depths of his underarms …
“I can’t take it man!” Johnny wheezed, “This is unlike anything I’ve—” he swallowed down a dry bubble, coughing and spluttering as it got caught in the back of his throat, “—Please! Enough with the pits! Enough with the damn toe!” Johnny threw his head over his chest as his eyes took in the sight of Peter tickling both of his feet at the same time, “No, come on, man! Not two at once! I can’t, like, take this anymore, guys!”
The torment and hopelessness in Johnny’s voice was heard by both Bulk and Peter.
Gradually, they slowed down their attacks, leaving Johnny to catch his breath, relax his body, stop squirming and wriggling for just a second …
His panting filled the studio as Bulk went to adjust the camera.
Peter picked out a seagull feather from the bag of tickle tools, still keen to give Johnny a break, by simply stroking his balls with the feather, predicting a pretty standard giggle or twist of the hips at the very most …
Instead, Johnny’s entire body twisted in a sudden and violent thrash.
He looked over his torso, at the feeling across his taint, a concerned and shaky, “Whoa!” leaving his lips.
Johnny couldn’t hide the surprise or alarm that currently saturated his face.
Peter grinned.
He wiggled the feather over Johnny’s balls, allowing the classic tickle tool to flutter and flicker between Johnny’s thighs, the soft but sharp edges making contact non stop with the softness of Johnny’s skin.
Johnny, still not fully recovered, still panting and puffing, started to giggle hard as the feather continued to wiggle between his thighs, his body wriggling over The Tickle Table with such strength that the tables structure started to wobble from side to side.
“Wait! Hey, wait!” He yelped, “Don’t! Don’t touch there! Hey! Wa, wait!”
Johnny’s giggles became heavy laughter, his eyebrows raised, his face creased as he kept his head up, his chin pressing against his chest, his waist jolting from left to right as more and more lunacy left his throat, his eyes unable to cope with the sight of pure tickle terror taking place around his balls.
“Hey! Man! Seriously! Don’t touch there, we—”
—Johnny felt relief wash over him as Peter stopped.
Huff, huff, huff …
“Hey! No!”
Johnny lifted his butt as Peter playfully slid the feather over his taint just once.
Johnny landed with a bounce, sighing as the feather was pulled away.
“Oh!”
Johnny gasped as Peter returned the feather, this time for a far quicker, more teasing drag over his cock.
Once again, Johnny lifted his butt, landing it with a squishy bounce as the feather drifted away …
Bulk smirked, stepping back, allowing Peter to put his expert methods to good use, especially now that he had discovered another one of Johnny’s most ticklish spots.
Johnny kept his chin pressed against his chest as he watched Peter like a hawk.
“No, please, not there,” Johnny whispered, “We didn’t talk about that, we, we didn’t talk about that—”
Johnny urged Peter to be kind, to be respectful, but Peter avoided Johnny’s glare and instead returned the feather, this time not for a cheeky slide or drag that would last only a second or two, but for a full on tickling, one that he didn’t intend to stop actioning for a good five minutes at least …
“No! Please— stop it — wait, please! — no, we, we didn’t talk about that!”
Johnny began to giggle and buck his waist as soon as the feather fluttered back between his thighs; over his balls, around the base of his cock, past his taint, the sharp tip occasionally poking against his ass hole.
The giggles turned into loud, non stop laughter as Johnny fell into the realisation that this was happening, this level of tickling was possible, this part of his body, such an intimate area of his form, untouched by man, touched only by people special to him, was now violated and exposed by something as basic as a feather.
Johnny’s facial expression became scrunched with despair as he kept his eyes on his balls, his hips wriggling from side to side as he breathlessly howled out insanity, heaves and huffs being the only noise to suggest that he was in control of his breathing in one way or another, his thighs and legs kicking and squirming, caught perfectly against the surface of the table thanks to the ankle straps and restraints over his knees.
“You, you can’t—” Johnny couldn’t quite believe his circumstance, “Leave, leave my balls alone!” He had never felt this ticklish, he had never felt this out of control, he had never felt so vandalised, so pushed to breaking point, so utterly confused by this level of sensory overload, “Stop it! Stop it! Lemme out! Lemme out—” he demanded through the heaves, through the wheezing, through the pants and puffs, “—Oh fuck! Lemme out! Okay, stop, that’s it, lemme out of here!”
Peter dropped the feather for a second, only to reach out to both of Johnny’s underarms where he began to tickle each pit at the same time, turning Johnny’s breathless laughter into a deeper, more shocked cry that suggested no matter how hard he tried, he could never get used to one feeling over one area of his body, at any given time; he thought Peter would stay at his balls, and now here he was suddenly shoving his fingertips deep into Johnny’s underarms …
“No, that’s enough! I, I can’t take it!” Johnny’s naked body thrashed and writhed as Peter sent his tickling fingers up and down his torso, away from his pits and down his sides where they pinched at his V and then travelled back towards his underarms, “This is bull shit, this is bull shit!” Johnny announced, his voice high pitched and filled with panic.
“It is bull shit!” Peter agreed, “And you know what’s gonna get you out of this bull shit?”
Johnny heaved and lifted his waist as the feather returned to his balls, “Oh fuck! No, lemme out! What! What! What the fuck!”
Peter fluttered the feather across Johnny’s taint, causing the twenty year old to thrash so hard one of his left wrists began to come loose from the restraint, however, not enough for him to free his arm yet …
“He’s nearly breaking free, boss!” Bulk yelled from across the other side of the small studio.
“—Agree to another session,” Peter urged, “Another session, where you’re tickled with another guy—” Peter speeded up the feathers drag, locating the spot that really made Johnny giggle his hardest; right beneath the base of his balls, “You think you can do that, Johnny?”
To Peter’s surprise, Johnny didn’t respond straight away; he was unsure if that was because Johnny couldn’t speak right now, or if it was because Johnny was thinking about the proposal, weighing up his circumstance, dealing with the suggestion at hand; continue to have his balls tickled like this for god knows how long, or agree to this third session, with an unknown guy …
In actuality, Johnny was handling a thought he had never had to handle, up until now, all whilst being tickled in such a way that made thinking challenging in itself …
He liked being tickled by Peter.
Would he enjoy watching Peter tickling someone else, beside him?
Johnny pushed away senseless jealousy over a person who’s face he hadn’t even been shown yet and decided to prioritise the most important thing at hand …
… Being able to breath normally again!
“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Johnny flared his nostrils, his body twisting to the right, his legs shaking so hard that his butt began to jiggle, “Yes, whatever you want! I’ll do anything!”
Peter smiled, taking the feather away from Johnny’s balls where he carefully placed it over the surface of The Tickle Table.
“Excellent,” Peter growled.
Johnny jolted as he felt Peter’s hands arrive around his left foot.
“No!” He then relaxed as Peter’s soft touch hardened, transforming from a sudden tickle into a firm, well deserved massage …
… Leaving Johnny breathless, heaving, sweating and destroyed …
… With something different, something he had never felt before, awoken deep within him …
“Oh man,” Johnny looks at his Instagram live … The one thousandth exclusive House of White Feathers Member had just joined, “You guys are wild. Seriously! Do you have anymore questions, before the live is up?”
Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping!
Johnny leans against the window, intentionally exposing his armpits for the audience as the comments and feather emojis keep coming through …
@HOWFTickler046: Talk us through that second to last toe? How did it feel? How much would you charge to let one of us spend a few hours on it?
@HOWFTickler922: Would you come to one of our events? Let us tickle you in person?
@HOWFTickler855: Does anyone know if TickleFest is back on? They cancelled it this year for some reason. I’d love to see Johnny at that!
@TheClown: My turn next.
@TheClown: My turn next.
@TheClown: My turn next.
— Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping —
Ding dong!
Johnny’s fingertips squeak away from the window as he turns his head towards the open door of his bedroom.
“Hold up, guys, gimme a sec …”
Johnny lays the iPhone screen up over the surface of the coffee table as he goes to answer the front door to his home.
The viewers of the Instagram live watch him walk away.
They hear some resistance, in the form of heavy thuds and steady footsteps.
Some shuffling … Some grunts … A frustrated, ‘like, what the fuck, man?’
After a few minutes, the viewers of the live see Johnny stumble back into view, his hands now strapped behind his back.
Someone picks up the iPhone.
They aim it at Johnny.
The Masked Tickler treads slowly around Johnny, arriving behind him.
He reveals a ball gag.
Johnny closes his eyes and lifts his head as he allows The Masked Tickler to strap the ball gag around his mouth, where he consumes the ball of black plastic between his lips.
The Masked Tickler shoves Johnny out of view …
The person holding the iPhone turns the camera around so that it captures their face.
Peter grins at the viewers still watching Johnny’s exclusive Instagram live.
“I’m glad you all liked the audition tape and the video of the session … Just you wait …”
Suddenly, everything goes black.
The viewers start to react.
‘😡’ emojis start to flutter from the bottom of the screen where they soon fade into nothing …
@HOWFTickler87: What is going on?
@HOWFTickler038: Bring him back! Omg! 😩
@HOWFTickler443: Where have they taken him? I didn’t expect this!
A pause …
A beat of silence …
And then …
Peters voice.
“… The final act is gonna be one hell of a show.”
‘ORLANDO’S AWAKENING’ CONCLUDES IN PART THREE, ‘THE ASSESSMENT’