Tim, still tied in the star fish position, shivered breathlessly as he looked up at his wrists strapped out either side of him.

His legs were stretched out, his ankles bound to red leather pads that were connected to a seat-like contraption.

His feet, bare, exposed and vulnerable, squirmed from left to right in anticipation as Armie stood before him, with a twinkle in his eye and a smirk on his face.

Let’s recap Tim’s horrific situation …

… Since The Pandemic, he had been stripped of any opportunity to continue on the projects he had been contracted to.

Dune had been put on pause, The French Dispatch looked to never be filmed …

… Tim had spent most of his previous movies pay checks and now, he had no income.

‘Tickle Abuse’ hired celebrities for paid tickling sessions.

Tim thought it would be easy.

Two of his famous friends in similar situations had dealt with it and only had positive, if torturous, feedback to share.

“Two million dollars …”

… To simply be tied up for a few hours and tickled relentlessly, by an undisclosed tickler.

And now, several hours into his first session, things had become far more different to what Tim had expected.

Not only had he, so far, endured the biggest, most intense tickling of his entire life …

… But also, his Tickler had revealed themselves to be Armie Hammer.

Elio’s Oliver,

A celebrity in his own right …

… Tim’s close friend.

And now, he existed as the person responsible for tickling Tim so hard that he had actually, at one point, blacked out.

In the midst of the torture, both Armie and Timmy had touched upon the fact that Armie had always had a strong tickle fetish.

He had even admitted, only a few hours ago, that he had more than enjoyed tickling Tim on the set of Call Me By Your Name …

… He’d even added in some pokes and jabs, without the actor or director’s consent.

Armie had been clear in his admittance that he had fantasised about doing it again, and again and again …

… For Armie, having Tim strapped up like this and exposed in such a vulnerable way - well, to say it was a dream come true would be an understatement.

Tim had begged Armie to stop.

He had screamed so hard that he thought his throat might rip.

He had been pushed to such extreme limits that he questioned his own levels of endurance.

And now, he had allowed Armie to slide his fingers along his crotch …

… Around his hips and over his balls, where his hands felt the girth of Timmy’s manhood.

“Do what you want …” Tim had whispered, “ … Anything but the tickling …”

Armie had left the room Tim sat tied in and returned with a large pair of fabric cutting scissors.

As Tim dribbled into his chest and allowed his lungs to refill with oxygen, Armie carefully placed the scissors around the hem of Tim’s underwear.

Tim jolted as the cold steel slid across his thigh.

Armie began to cut away the material.

Tim swallowed down a bubble of uncertainty as he closed his eyes.

His arms throbbed, his back ached, his mouth felt dry.

He hadn’t shouted, laughed or begged this hard in his twenty three years of living.

And now, Armie Hammer would be cutting away the only thing keeping him from sitting here entirely naked.

Tim shook his head.

“No,” He mumbled, “… Stop …”

Armie glanced up at Tim.

“Is everything okay?” He asked.

Tim chuckled and opened his eyes.

“… Is everything okay? What … What do you think? I’m sitting here, I … I can barely move, and you’re about to … I’m about to let you …” Tim felt his head fall over his shoulder, “… Jesus.”

Armie took the scissors away from Tim’s underwear before he could cut them off.

“You don’t want to do this part, do you?”

Tim shook his head slowly.

“Then why did you suggest it?” Asked Armie.

Tim lifted his shoulders as high as the restraints would allow him.

“I wanted it to stop,” He confessed, “I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Armie carefully placed the scissors down on the rich mahogany carpet.

He folded his arms and then, he did something Tim did not expect him to do.

He started to untie him.

As he unbuckled Tim’s ankles and then made his way to Tim’s wrists, he offered his friend a comforting smile and then simply said,

“Let’s get you some food.”

***

Tim sat in Armie’s kitchen, in the clothes had had arrived in; a pair of white socks and high top Gucci trainers, Adidas sweat pants and an oversized grey hoodie.

Curls of brown hair hung over his eyes as he tucked into a Full English Breakfast.

He devoured sausages, scrambled egg, bacon and beans, chomping down on the food as if he hadn’t eaten in forever.

After such an extreme tickling session, he has developed quite the appetite.

Armie watched Tim haul down his cooking with an impressed expression.

Then, he hopped off his stool and walked to the fridge.

He poured Tim a glass of orange juice and then placed it beside his nearly empty plate.

Tim wiped his mouth and hid what could’ve been a loud burp by gulping it down.

“Better?” Asked Armie.

Tim nodded, making sure his mouth wasn’t full before replying.

“Better.”

The two friends sat in silence as Tim looked around Armie’s large, white, clinically decorated kitchen.

The cupboards, work surfaces, taps and floor glistened with an overwhelming shine.

“I’ve been to your place before. This … This isn’t it,” frowned Tim.

He had only just started to get his whereabouts - after all, he had arrived here in a blindfold.

Armie nodded.

“This is my secondary apartment. It’s a place where I … Do things. With … People, who share the same interests that I have.”

Tim raised his eye brows.

“Interests?” He asked.

Armie got comfortable on his stool and picked up a bit of leftover bacon from Tim’s plate.

“What I’ve been doing to you, for the past four hours.”

Armie popped the bacon into his mouth.

“Oh …” Tim said quietly into his lap, “ … Tickling.”

“Knismolagnia,” Armie cleared his throat, “… That’s the official term. For what I have.”

Tim nodded slowly.

“Thanks for the clarity,” He mumbled.

Armie smiled.

“Does my interest in … Doing it with you … To this level … Does it make you feel uncomfortable?” He asked.

Tim had to think about his response before opening his mouth.

He had never experienced anything quite like this.

Sure, he’d been tickled hundreds of times before, mostly as a kid …

… But to be restrained and tormented, so violently and so relentlessly, in areas he had no idea he was even ticklish and by tools he had no idea would even tickle when applied …

… Well, this was a whole new world, and an entirely different situation.

“Why me?” Asked Tim.

Armie picked up Tim’s plate with one hand and nudged his glass of orange juice closer towards him with the other.

“I told you,” Armie replied, whilst walking the plate to the sink.

Tim looked at the orange juice, feeling too full to drink it right now.

“Don’t you know other guys as ticklish as me? Any other guys who cou—“

Armie interrupted Tim.

“—No.”

Tim blinked.

“Oh.”

Armie dribbled washing up liquid over the plate and began to clean it with a yellow sponge.

“You’re one of a kind, Tim. Your sensitivity, your reactions, your levels of ticklish-ness … They’re unmatched. I knew that, the first time I dug my fingers into your sides, on set. And this fact has only been reconfirmed the many other times I’ve been able to tickle you … During filming, at award shows, when we’ve met for coffee … ”

Tim shuffled on his stool as he thought back over the many times Armie had casually tickled him.

He always put it down to Armie being playful.

Now, it became clear that there was more to his hands on approach.

Armie switched off the taps and then dried his hands with a nearby kitchen towel.

“And don’t get me started on your feet,” Armie looked down at Timmy’s Gucci sneakers, wishing they were off, “Your feet are, by far, the most beautiful pair of feet I’ve ever seen. I knew the moment I saw you bare foot in Italy that I’d have to have them.”

Tim squirmed uncomfortably as he recalled the nose bleed scene in Call Me By Your Name.
The script had simply said that Oliver would comfort Elio in private.

But, during the first and only take, Tim found his feet in Armie’s lap, where Armie would then finger his toes.

Tim remembered having to try so hard to keep in character as he squirmed on the spot and tried, several times, to yank his foot away.

Armie finished the scene with a kiss to Tim’s sole.

Now, it all made sense.

Tim chuckled and hid his face with his hands.

“This is crazy!” He squeezed his eyes shut, “Man, why are you saying this? This is so fucking —”

Armie smiled and slowly returned to the high kitchen table.

“—Weird?” He finished Tim’s sentence for him.

Tim’s hands slid away from his face, “No …” He then tucked his hands under him, “… Unexpected.”

Armie sat back down on his stool.

“I am so, so glad that I’ve been honest,” He said, “I’ve always wanted to talk to you about this. You have no idea how excited I felt when I saw your Tickle Abuse application. I love that we have this mutual agreement,” Armie reached out and placed his hand on Tim’s shoulder, “… One that I hope can continue.”

Tim’s eyes fell on Armie’s hand.

He clenched his teeth as he let the nerves get the better of him.

He shrugged Armie’s hand off his shoulder and slid off the kitchen stool.

“Uhh … I don’t know, man … This is … This is, uh …”

As Tim began to pace around the kitchen, Armie folded his arms quietly.

“Ten million dollars,” He announced.

Tim stood still.

“What?” He turned around quietly and looked Armie in the eye.

Armie nodded at Tim’s empty seat, gesturing for him to sit back down.

Tim reluctantly returned to his stool.

“Ten million dollars,” Repeated Armie, “Ten million dollars, and all I ask is you stay here, for exactly one month … And I get to tickle you in anyway … Any position, any form of restraint … On any area of your body I want, and then, when the month is up, you’re free to go.”

Armie eyed Tim like a lion eyeing it’s prey.

A confidence sparkled deep within his blue eyes.

The entire suggestion intimidated Tim.

He shuffled awkwardly in his seat as he eyed the orange juice looking back up at him.

Ten million dollars …

… That’s a lot of money.

Enough to pay for his New York Apartment, for the next three years at least.

Enough to pay off some debts, enough to pay back some friends …

… But would he be able to handle it?

Could he physically take it?

“That’s … That’s the sort of pay for, for a movie …” Tim narrowed his eyes as he tried to compartmentalise his thoughts.

“Exactly,” Armie unfolded his arms and leant on the kitchen table, “… Think of it as the sort of money you should be getting, if cinemas were open and if the movie industry weren’t on hold.”

Tim shook his head, “You… You can’t afford it. Come on, Armie - ten million dollars?” Tim scratched his nose as he avoided Armie’s gaze, “Can’t you just … Whack off to something online? I’m sure there’s tickle porn out there, right?”

Armie pursed his lips.

“Why are you turning this down?” He asked.

Tim ran his fingertips gently around the glass of orange juice.

“I don’t know…” He answered, honestly, “… I guess I’m … I guess this sort of offer has never been… Offered to me before… ” Tim slid his hands through his hair, “ … Man, this is insane.”

“You’re apprehensive, about being tickled, that intensely, correct?” Armie’s tone softened.

Tim kept his hands in his hair, enjoying the relief of not having curls dangling over his face.

“I mean, yeah, I guess. But also … I’m … I’m not …” Tim looked up at Armie with a focused eye, “… I’m not gay, Armie. I’m … Happy, with who I am and … And I want you to respect that.”

Armie held out his hand.

“Your friendship is more important to me than anything else.”

Tim looked at Armie’s hand and then he imagined the ten million dollars landing in his account.

One month …

… It’s just four weeks.

Tim closed his eyes as he thought back a few hours to a moment where he couldn’t breathe.

His toes curled inside his Gucci trainers as he relived the feeling of a hair brush gliding across his silky smooth, baby-oil-drenched soles.

Tim opened his eyes and without further hesitation, he said,

“No.”

He planted his palms on the cold surface of the kitchen table to add additional authority to his answer.

Armie blinked.

“You’re one hundred percent sure?” He asked.

Tim nodded, just the once.

Armie paused and then, with respect in his voice, he smiled and got up from his seat.

“Okay. I’ll have a car take you back home,” He said.

***

Shortly after Tim got back to his apartment, he slept.

The session had tired him out so much that he fell into such a deep sleep, that he missed calls and text messages from friends wondering where he’d been for the past four hours.

Tim woke up around 5 pm.

He crawled out of bed, undressed and then turned on the shower.

He stood naked in the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror.

Red marks littered his under arms and sides.

Scratches decorated his ribs and hips.

Armie had gone to town on his ultra ticklish, sensitive body.

Tim wrapped his arms around himself and looked down at his so called ‘beautiful’ feet.

They too had endured Armie’s attacks.

Tim shivered at the thought of having them tickled in such a way again.

Feeling more certain with his decision with every moving moment, Tim stepped into the boiling hot shower and allowed the water to wash away the recent events.

Things between he and Armie would never be the same, after his friends revealing honesty.

He knew he’d not be able to see him again, for quite some time.

In fact, something deep inside Tim told him that Armie might not even reach out.

After cleaning himself free of baby oil and still itchy sensations on the soles of his feet and under his arms, Tim stepped out of the shower and wrapped a large, thick white towel around his waist.

Night began to fall over a city in Lockdown.

Tim switched on his bedside lamp, lighting his plant-populated apartment a gentle orange.

Then, he sat at his desk and opened up his MacBook.

As his jaw length hair began to dry, Tim scoured over news websites with his index finger.

‘U.S COVID cases continue to rise ….’

‘Bond is delayed by one year …’

‘Cineworld closes it’s doors due to uncertain future …’

Tim sighed and then clicked into his emails.

Outside, rain began to hit his apartment window as sirens from police cars echoed down the streets.

‘IMPORTANT - DUNE’.

Tim read through an email explaining that Dune would be on hold and that future filming would not be taking place until the pandemic eased.

‘FRENCH DISPATCH UPDATE’

The next email informed Tim that The French Dispatch, in post production, would be cancelled entirely and re-looked at in two years time.

The next email, from Tim’s agent, suggested that he ‘get a hobby’ because the wait between now and a foggy future for cinema would be a long one.

Tim’s parents had made it clear that they wouldn’t loan him anymore money.

His sister stood in the same position as he.

Unlike Tim, she had no shame in getting a part time job at a coffee shop.

Unlike his sister, Tim was far more famous.

He couldn’t be rejected by the bank, not again.

People would start to talk.

He already owed two close friends around six thousand dollars, each.

They were both famous too - and they were also people he didn’t want to piss off.

“Fuck …” Tim began to shake his knees.

He turned in his seat and eyed his iPhone laying on his bed.

He looked back at the many emails informing him that working as an actor, currently, would be basically impossible.

Ping!

Another one landed in his inbox.

‘We’re sorry to inform you that ‘4000 Miles’ will be put on pause due to—“

Tim slammed his MacBook shut.

That London play would’ve been his only chance.

And now, theatres were closing too.

Tim closed his eyes as he slowly stood away from his desk.

He had no choice, and Armie knew that.

He had been cornered.

And now, he would go back on his decision.

Tim walked to his iPhone, picked it up and scrolled through to Armie’s number.

With both thumbs, he tap tap tapped away at the screen and text Armie with the words,

“I changed my mind. I’m in.”

***

It took one week for Tickle Abuse to formulate a contract.

That arrived in the post a few days later.

Armie allowed Tim as much time as he’d want to read through everything.

Tim spent two weeks darting his eyes over every single paragraph, trailing his green orbs over each individual word.

Four weeks.

Living with Armie Hammer.

And Armie could restrain and tickle Tim in anyway he wanted.

Whenever he wanted.

There would be no sexual activity between the two, unless Tim provided clear consent.

There would be no physical violence.

And there would be a safe word of Tim’s choice that Tim could use once, per session.

The safe word would allow Tim a thirty second break.

If Tim did not use the safe word, the safe word would roll over to the next session …

… The only part of the contract that made Tim feel uneasy were the words,

‘There will be surprises’.

Tim questioned this and when provided answers via Tickle Abuse, he simply got told to ‘trust the process. You won’t be hurt, and no one but this production company, yourself and Armie Hammer will know about this agreement’.

Tim signed on the dotted line and two days later, he arrived at Armie’s secondary apartment with a suitcase full of clothes.

Armie didn’t show Tim where he would be sleeping.

Instead, he offered his friend and welcoming hug and then returned him to the kitchen he had sat in only some weeks before.

Tim sat back down on the stool he had once adamantly slid from.

“What changed your mind?” Asked Armie.

Tim tucked some curls of hair behind his ears as he thought about his response.

“Desperation,” He murmured, mostly to himself.

Armie smiled, “Well, your desperation is my satisfaction. Now, please remove your clothes.”

Tim blinked.

“N-now?”

Armie nodded as he unbuttoned the cufflinks to his white shirt and began to roll the sleeves up his arms.

Tim looked from side to side.

“But I … I only just got here.”

Armie opened up his collar, “Exactly. There’s no time to waste … I only have you for four weeks.”

Tim opened his mouth, but no words came out.

Armie tucked his hands into his trouser pockets.

“Tim, please strip.”

Tim widened his eyes briefly and then did as he were told.

He hopped off the stool and then knelt down to untie the laces to his Gucci sneakers.

Armie held a hand forwards.

“No,” He asserted, “Leave those on. Everything else, but your shoes and socks.”

Tim dropped his laces and then slowly stood back up.

He pulled off his denim jacket and folded it neatly on the kitchen table.

Then, he yanked off his t-shirt and revealed a slim, pale body, healed from the marks Armie had applied during his previous session.

Armie remained quiet as he watched Tim undress.

Tim pulled down his jeans and left them at the ankle.

“I’m gonna have to take off my sneaks, to get—“

Armie smiled politely, “Of course.”

Tim momentarily popped off his sneakers and then stepped out of his jeans.

Then, he quickly removed his underwear, as if ripping off a band aid.

He had never stood naked in front of another man before.

Tim wondered why he felt so shy.

He had kissed Armie, passionately.

They had cuddled in bed, for hours on end, whilst filming scenes for Call Me By Your Name.

Why does this feel so different, so awkward?

Tim pulled on his sneakers and stood in front of Armie, naked.

He rubbed his hands over his arms.

“It’s uh, it’s cold …” He shivered.

Armie smiled as he walked around the kitchen table.

“It won’t be in a minute,” He explained.

Armie opened up a drawer and pulled out a blindfold.

He casually threw it towards Tim.

“Pop this on,” He ordered.

Tim snatched it out of the air and then looked down at it with concerned eyes.

“Armie … This is… Uh, I uh … I’m not …”

Armie placed his hands back in his pockets.

“You’re going to have to learn to trust me, kid.”

Tim swallowed down his anxiety and then attached the blindfold to his face.

The strap hugged the back of his head tightly.

He now stood in darkness with his hands dangling at his side.

Armie approached Tim carefully and then stepped behind him.

Tim felt the warmth of Armie’s palms land on his shoulders.

Then, Armie began to lead him out of the kitchen.

Tim’s sneakers squeaked over the pristine marble floor until they suddenly started to tread on wooden floorboards.

They both walked through another door and then eventually arrived in a much warmer room.

Armie adjusted Tim so that he stood pressed against something leather.

Tim’s cock began to twitch.

His hands reached out and grasped over something that felt like a padded table.

“Climb on, and lay on your front,” Ordered Armie.

Tim bit his lip as he hesitantly began to climb onto the leather structure.

He nearly slipped when his hand missed the edge.

The table felt far wider than Tim had expected, when in actuality it existed as something narrow.

Armie helped Tim get into position.

Once laid down, Armie shuffled Tim’s body into place.

Tim’s head hung over the top of the table, whilst his feet hung over the bottom.

Armie positioned both of Tim’s feet together so they dangled neatly, side by side.

Tim felt Armie take his arms and then display them tightly by his sides.

Then, a creaking noise.

The table wobbled as Armie lifted something down over Tim.

A lid like structure encapsulated Tim in what felt like some kind of leather cocoon.

His entire body from the neck down felt entirely restricted.

Tim tried to wiggle, but he was completely confined.

Armie stepped back and admired the finished job.

He had trapped Tim in a tube like construction.

The outside, a black leather, with a lock to ensure it wouldn’t open up.

The inside, a red velvet and leather interior that moulded around Tim’s body so tightly that all he could do was move his head from side to side and wiggle his feet, which sat poking out the other end.

“Comfortable?” Asked Armie.

Tim rolled his eyes behind his blindfold.

“Oh, sure. The most comfortable I’ve ever felt in my life …”

Armie tutted.

“Sarcasm isn’t going to help you …” He warned.

Tim wasn’t stupid.

He bit his lower lip as he readied himself for what would happen next.

He knew, in this position, the only places Armie could tickle would be either his head …

… Or my feet.

The most ticklish area of his entire body.

“This session’s time limit will be at my own telling,” Informed Armie, “And you are allowed to use a safe word, but only once. Understand?”

Tim nodded as he felt the blood rush to his head.

“What’s your safe word of choice?” Asked Armie.

“N-n-new York,” Tim answered nervously, “But wait, Armie … Uh, I’m not sure if I…”

Tim could hear the squeak of wheels as Armie pulled a desk chair to the end of the container Tim lay confined in.

His body felt hot, his palms clammy.

He tried to shuffle his legs but the lid encasing his body wouldn’t allow him to move an inch.

Tim started to panic.

“I’m not sure if I can do this, I’m uh… Fuck,” Tim grunted as he felt Armie pull at the laces of his Gucci sneakers.

“This will be perfect,” Grinned Armie.

“Shit,” Tim’s eyes shifted from left to right behind his blindfold, “Fuck…”

His right toes flexed within the thick cotton of his sock as the sneaker slid away from his foot…

“Now … ” Armie dropped the sneaker to the floor, “… Let’s begin.”

TCTLR continues in Chapter Six - ‘The Incubator’ …