Chapter 2: The Mad Machinist (Part 5)

Anna, Lucy, and Emily walk into a lit room with a really high ceiling. Three ropes hang from the ceiling. Lucy looks up and sees the height of the room, a long, wide metal tube extending about 20 feet up with a ledge on the opposite side of the room at the tops of the ropes.

“I think I see where this is going,” Lucy proclaims, proud of herself for being able to read the Machinist’s diabolical designs.

“I’m sure you do, Lucy!” The Machinist cackles over the intercom. “Climb the ropes and make it to the top! The last one to make it gets to test another of my ticklish toys! As always, there is a twist! And don’t worry if you fall. You won’t be hurt as I’ve already planned for that possibility. Now, GO!”

The girls run to each rope and grab on, climbing as fast as they can.

“I’ve always seen this rope climb exercise on TV, but never did this in gym!” Anna pants, struggling to climb up the rope.

“Just keep climbing!” Lucy exclaims.

“Guys!” Emily shouts, a dim whirring growing in volume within the walls of the tall tube the girls are climbing. Small holes open in front of each of the ropes, a laser pointing at each of the girls’ armpits, which are incredibly exposed due to them hanging from the ropes.

“WHAT IS THIS??” Anna protests, but as the words leave her mouth, she hears a quick FHWIP. A small machine has been shot at each of her armpits, sticking with some kind of glue or tape or sucker system or something.

FHWIP. FWHIP.

Lucy and Emily have the same machines shot into each one of their armpits, also sticking to them. The small metallic boxes have a sleek shell and fit the girls’ smooth underarms perfectly. Faint beeping can be heard from each one. Beep. Beep. Beep. Then, suddenly, each of the boxes started to feel like it was spinning inside their armpits!

“Climb!” Emily shouts, reaching one hand off the rope and trying to pull herself up as quickly as possible. They were each only about 5 feet off the ground, with Anna a little behind each of the other girls.

The purpose of the spinning boxes becomes clear as each girl feels what must be some kind of modified makeup brush against their exposed, ticklish armpits.

“NOHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-” Anna begins screaming with ticklish laughter.

“OHOHOHO GAWHAWHAWHAWD THAT TIHIHIHICKLES!!” Lucy exclaims through raucous laughter, struggling against the rope she’s holding and swinging back and forth, squirming in a vain attempt to escape the ticklish torture enacted on her sensitive armpits with the soft, swirling makeup brushes.

“I-HIHIHIHI CAN’T CLIHIHIHIMB LIKE THIHIHIHIIIIIIIIIS!” Emily squeals, the laughter taking over as she swings through the air with her armpits being tickled mercilessly by the devilish devices attached to her armpits.

“I call these the giggle boxes! I know, it isn’t very clever,” the Machinist quips over the intercom. “OH! And if you fall, then you go into the penalty box! Good luck, girls!”

As the Machinist signs off, the familiar click of the intercom disconnecting rings through the laughter of the ticklish girls being relentlessly tortured. Immediately after he said the words, “penalty box,” a part of the wall opens up behind the girls, where the grabbing, tickling hands from the previous obstacles wait patiently for any of the girls to fall. Three pairs of hands extend just outside that room, ready to catch the girls should they fall, and pull them in to the ticklish torture chamber.

The laughter of the girls ring out, but it’s much less overwhelming as their armpits become less sensitive to the makeup brushes. The boxes slow their tickling and detach from the girls’ armpits and fall to the ground below.

“Oh… My… God…” Emily pants, still holding the rope she was climbing minutes ago.

“Let’s go finish this,” Lucy prompts, tired from being tickled for so long. Their sides were a little sore from the work out they're getting from all the ticklish laughter, but this has been one of the best experiences for each of them.

They continue their climbs up the ropes, Anna still lagging a bit behind. Suddenly, as they reach about the 10 foot mark, large, fluffy feathers protrude from the walls around them beneath their feet, wiggling and tickling up towards their feet. The girls squeal and each jerk their feet up, climbing as fast as they can as the feathers follow them up.

“NOHAHAHAT MY FEEHEHEHEET!” Anna exclaims, her ticklish laughter interrupting every syllable as the feathers gently tickle against her vulnerable soles. She pulls her feet up as far as she can and climbs as fast as she can, fighting the urge to let go of the rope. The best motivation to hang on is the penalty box just below the feathers tickling her feet.

Lucy outpaces the feathers below, reaching the 15 foot mark, just about five feet away from the top. Just as she passes this point, she hears another FWHIP. A small circular object has been shot on her side, attaching with some sticky substance. She braces for some kind of tickling on her side, but the small object climbs around from her left side towards the middle of her belly, right above her belly button. A little finger attached to a small robotic arm pops out of the top of the device, Lucy still frozen in anticipation of the tickling this devilish device will surely exact upon her, and now positive where she is to be tickled. The finger enters her belly button and begins to vibrate against her ticklish navel.

“MOHOHORE BELLYHIHI BUTTON?? HAHAHAHAHA,” Lucy cries out, her grip on the rope loosening. As she slips, the feathers below continue their ticklish torture of the girls slightly behind her, their climbing slowed by the tickling feathers flitting against their soles. Lucy’s grip completely loosens and as she falls, the mechanical hands from the penalty box quickly reach out and grab her wrists, holding her arms above her head. Another pair of hands reach for her ankles and hold her straight up and down. The feathers which would have been tickling her soles had she not climbed so quickly readjust and begin tickling her exposed underarms, curvy sides, and stretched out, oval belly button.

“LUHUHUHUCYHEEHEEHEE!” Anna screams, realizing her friend is heading to the penalty box.

“OHOHOHO MY GOHAWHAWD NOHOHOHAHAHA!” Lucy screams, unable to hold back any laughter after all the tickling they’ve been through in this obstacle course. The feathers stroke her bikini-clad body, being sure to target her worst tickle spots. The plumage of multiple feathers dance across her ticklish armpits. The tips of what feels like hundreds of feathers tickle away at her defenseless sides. The stem of one of the feathers finds itself twirling and tickling the bottom of her sensitive navel, procuring unrelenting laughter from her supple lips. Her are eyes are wide open and her mouth agape with raucous laughter as the hands guide her into the penalty box, the feathers an additive treat, not the actual penalty.

Lucy’s shapely form is pulled gently back into the box in the wall, multiple mechanical hands wiggling their fingers tauntingly at her as if tickling the air in front of her. Once she’s secured in the box, her arms secured straight above her head and her ankles held taut by the mechanical hands which stretch her out, the hands which tickle the air all around her stop moving. A bright red digital timer appears above her head.

10:00.

That isn’t so bad, I guess, Lucy supposes. She does like being tickled, after all. Ten minutes won’t be so bad?

Then, the hands begin their work as the timer starts to count down. Fingers gently tickle her all over: her underarms, ribs, sides, belly, thighs, feet, and even her butt! Her entire body is exposed and vulnerable to the tickling due to her bikini and the restraining hands which don’t budge even an inch despite her struggle to escape the ticklish torture she’s enduring.

The fingers in her armpits gently spider tickle from the sides of her breasts to the tops of her smooth, ticklish underarms. The fingers at her ribs gently scratch her ribs, raking back and forth quickly but gently across the ticklish hills and valleys of her ribcage. The hands at her sides gently knead her ticklish curves. The two hands on her belly barely graze her ticklish, squirming tummy, also spider tickling so quickly that Lucy feels as if she may lose her mind. The hands on her butt and thighs also spider tickle her extremely lightly, causing her to jerk and twitch against her restraints with every stroke. The fingers at her feet rake back and forth slowly against her soles, tickling every inch with a methodical stroke against the entirety of her soles.

Lucy struggles against her bonds, giggles bubbling out of her and her eyes closed tightly. She pulls her arms as hard as she can, but she can only barely pull her wrist toward her body, not nearly enough to protect her ticklish body from the tickling fingers all over.

Slowly, the fingers begin to tickle harder, causing Lucy’s giggles to turn to laughter. And harder, causing her laughter to turn to raucous begging and harder squirming. And harder, causing her raucous laughter to turn to screams of ticklish anguish and thrashing against her bonds. The methods of the tickling fingers have not changed, just how intensely they implement their ticklish techniques.

Lucy looks up at the timer above her head as she roars with ticklish laughter.

9:21.

I’m gonna be tickled to death! Lucy thinks as her lips curl into a wider smile, laughter spilling out of her with no stop in sight…

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Anna and Emily continue their climbs, giggling as the feathers gently tickle their feet. Emily crosses the 15 foot marker slightly before Anna, having the little tickle disc attach to her side much like the other one did to Lucy. However, this one moves to Emily’s butt, tucking itself just under the skimpy bikini bottom which exposes much of her lower body. The disc then unleashes a flurry of what feels like soft bristles that spin ever so gently against Emily’s unguarded behind. The tickles of the bristles causes Emily to turtle up against the rope she’s holding, making her grip tighter rather than looser, as she squeals with ticklish delight.

I had no idea I was this ticklish there! Emily thinks, giggling and squealing as the bristles run back and forth against her haunches. She steels herself against the ticklish torture and quickly climbs the last five feet, reaching the end and pulling herself over the ledge, exhausted. However, the device keeps tickling her!

“WHYHYHYHY HASN’T THE TICKLING STOHAHAHAHOPPED?” Emily forces through her ticklish giggles. In a flash, cuffs rise from the ground, grabbing Emily’s wrists and more cuffs from the ground rise and grab her ankles, holding her still and bending her slightly over. Two robotic hands come out of the ground and the tickling disc which was attached to her butt drops off and climbs back down the wall Emily just climbed up. The two hands begin gently tickling against Emily’s butt, forcing strained ticklish laughter from her lips as she wiggles and squirms back and forth, her terribly ticklish tuckus unable to escape the tickling fingers.

“Oh, two of you must finish in order for the tickling to stop! This is, after all, at least sort of a team effort!” The Machinist announces over the intercom. Emily’s desperate laughter gets even louder and more strained. Anna and Lucy are way too ticklish to finish this obstacle any time soon!

“PLEAHEHEHEHEASE NOHAHAHAHOT MY BUHUHUHUTT!” Emily begs through her ticklish laughter, the whirring of the machines and the laughter from Lucy and Anna nearly completely obscuring her pleas.

“If you say so!” the Machinist happily obliges. Suddenly, the machines flip Emily over, holding her in a near backbend with her arms above her head, but parallel to the ground and her feet still securely held to the ground. The two hands which were tickling her butt now wiggle their fingers above her freckled belly.

“nononoNoNoNoNONONONO!” Emily’s protests get louder and become squeals as the hands dig in to her ticklish ribs, gently stroking, kneading, and spidering over her ticklish ribcage. Emily’s laughter overtakes her words as she squeals and thrashes and howls with laughter.

“ANNAHAHAHAHA! LUCYHEHEHEHEHEEEEEEEE! HURRYYYYYYYYYYHAHAHAHAHA!” Emily manages through her ticklish cackling, hoping that one of them finishes this obstacle soon.

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Anna is still clutching the rope laughing as the feathers tickle away at her feet, reaching up to behind her knees and on her thighs as she is barely any higher than she was when they first appeared. She hears Emily’s unbroken laughter and her pleas for Anna or Lucy to finish the obstacle. Anna decides she must finish this part for her friend’s sake and begins to climb!

As she climbs the rope, she passes the 15 foot mark and the same disc is shot toward her and attaches itself to her belly. Instead of moving at all, a small hand comes out of the top of the disc and begins tickling Anna’s slightly pudgy sides. Anna’s laughter increases as her curvaceous side is tickled by the single robotic hand. Much like Emily, however, she clutches at the rope, trying desperately not to fall, and trying to avoid the ticklish torture that the attached disc exacts on her poor, exposed flank. The fingers knead her side as she roars and thrashes in ticklish anguish, the tickle torture much worse given the ticklish laughter surrounding her and her responsibility in saving Emily from what must be happening to her up top. Of course, if Anna escapes, then Lucy has to endure the ticklish torture the Machinist wants to test. But Lucy does like being tickled, it seems…

Anna’s brain is slow in processing anything given the ticklish torment she endures while trying to reason through what she should do. The fingers in her sensitive side cause her great ticklish distress and extract endless ticklish laughter from her pink sides.

Just as she believes she should climb to the top, two hands reach out of the wall in front of her and begin tickling her sides! The tickle-disc moves down to her belly and begins tickling all around her navel and her soft lower tummy. She can’t protect herself or else she’ll fall off the rope! And she can hear how that turned out for Lucy!

But it’s no use… She can’t hold on to the rope with the ticklish torture of the hands kneading her sides. She slips from the rope and falls, being caught by mechanical hands and held with her arms straight up. The feathers which tickled her feet now surround her, all turning so that they can tickle her entire bikini-clad upper body! Anna loses her mind with ticklish laughter, screaming and howling with each stroke of each feather against her sensitive, already tickled pink upper body. She sees a timer in the wall in front of her which reads 12:00.

After 9 minutes of relentless feather tickle torture, with Anna’s face angled upwards with open mouth, wide eyes, and desperation written clearly on it, she sees that Lucy is released from the tickle torture penalty chamber in the wall and set up on the 15 foot mark of the rope. She pants and then quickly climbs up the rope before she can be tickled further by the devilish devices which just held her for 10 minutes of merciless ticklish torture.

It looks like Anna is in for the tickle torture of her life even after the 3 minutes is up…

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“Bye Anna! Have fun!” Lucy tries to reassure her friend down below, unable to see her clearly amidst the sea of feathers stroking, raking, and tickling her poor friend. “That sounds like torture…” Lucy remarks while listening to the strained ticklish laughter of her friend, knowing that even though Lucy herself was in a penalty box, at least she liked being tickled. Poor Anna still wasn’t sure whether she did or not, but this might force her to make up her mind.

“Well, there’s only the two of us left,” Emily observes aloud. “I guess that means the next obstacle is the last?”

“Must be,” Lucy sighs. She’s sort of disappointed the course is coming to an end. She’s enjoyed many of the Mad Machinist’s tickling devices. But nearly her entire body is tickled literally pink. She isn’t sure how much more she can take, honestly.

“Come on,” Emily chuckles, seeing the bittersweet emotions on her friend’s face. They head through a small door which slams shut behind them, leaving Anna’s ticklish laughter behind.