Chapter 2 Part 5

Lily’s POV (condition: nylons)

I barely had time to process the first level before I heard the scientist’s voice.

“Level 2.”

The feathers had been bad enough. My arches, the most ticklish part of my feet, had already started to betray me. The smooth glide of the nylon made it worse—like the tickling didn’t just stay in one place but spread across my whole sole, making my toes curl involuntarily.

But now… the sensation changed.

Soft bristles replaced the feathers. They were still light, still teasing, but they moved differently—faster, covering more area. The moment they touched my soles, I let out a muffled whimper behind my gag, my body jerking instinctively.

No, no, no—this is already worse!

I clenched my fists inside the sleep-sack, my body locked tight in place. My toes flexed, trying to escape, but the nylons made my feet feel even more exposed. Every movement just made the brushes glide smoother.

I should have taken the socks.

I could already feel myself getting lost in the ticklish haze, my breathing shallow. And there were still hours left…

Anne’s POV (condition: barefoot)

This was unbearable. And it was only Level 1.

I had chosen bare feet because I thought it would be better than wearing nylons. But the moment my toes were tied back, panic had set in. The feeling of complete helplessness was worse than I imagined.

Then… Level 2 started.

I barely had time to process the shift before firmer, faster bristles replaced the feathers. They dragged along my soles, brushing over my arches, dipping beneath my toes—my most hated spot.

I tried to keep it in. I really did. But I felt the giggles bubbling in my throat, pushing past the gag.

“Mmmph! Mmmph!!”

I tugged at my restraints, my fingers curling inside the sleep-sack. My mind screamed at me—don’t laugh, don’t laugh, don’t laugh.

But my body had already betrayed me.

I hated this. I hated how much my feet were betraying me, how exposed they were, how I couldn’t even curl my toes for relief.

Maya’s POV (condition: socks)

I bit down on the gag as the bristles started moving.

The socks were helping—a little. The fabric gave me some barrier, but it wasn’t enough. Not when the bristles moved like that.

I knew I was ticklish. No, scratch that—I knew I was insanely ticklish. My entire childhood was proof of that. I grew up with older siblings who relentlessly tickled my feet whenever they had the chance.

But now? This was different.

This wasn’t playful. This was systematic, relentless, and controlled by a machine that would never get tired.

My toes curled inside my socks, trying to find a moment of relief, but it was impossible. I had avoided the toe-ties, which was a relief, but the bristles found my weak spots anyway.

I let out a strangled giggle, my cheeks burning.

I was so glad I had grabbed the socks. But even with them… I don’t know how long I could last.

Matt’s POV (condition: nylons)

I wanted to scream. I had known I was ticklish. I had always known.

But I had no idea how bad nylons would make it. The moment the bristles moved against my soles, I realized my mistake. The sheer fabric clung to my skin, making every stroke feel smoother, sharper—like there was nothing between me and the tickling at all.

I jerked in my restraints, trying to pull my feet away, but there was nowhere to go. My fingers clenched inside the sleep-sack, frustration bubbling inside me.

I should have gone barefoot. No… I should have taken the damn socks.

I had always been embarrassed about my ticklishness. Guys weren’t supposed to be this ticklish. But I was. And I hated how much my body was already betraying me.