dentrag1231
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Battlestar Galactickle
Part 2
I apologize fer the cheesy title
Part 2
I apologize fer the cheesy title
Note: This story takes place an undetermined time after me last one, but, naturally, 'ere D’Anna gets deactivated. Also, Razor will be Frakin' awesome. I’d like t' dedicate this story t' me best matey, the Weighted Companion Cube.
“So tell me, what has all this research ye two have done accomplished” asked #3 (D’anna), while lookin' across the steel table aboard the Basestar at #6 (has the lass ever been given a name?) an' #8 (Boomer).
“We’ve developed a method o' interrogatin' that most human females be highly susceptible t', that leaves nay marks, an' even adds psychological torture 'n the form o' humiliatin', as well as an effective tool fer carryin' it out.” Replied #8
“You’ve developed nothin' more than a childish act, an' a worthless device t' accompany it, that doesn’t even deck swabbing”
“It doesn’t deck swabbing on Cylons. It works quite effectively on humans”
“The only humans it’s bein' used on be some broken prisoners with nay will anyway, an' a single human with resistance left 'n them. Not very convincin'. Besides ye have t' prove this method be effective, or else yer little toy means nothin'”
“We were hopin' ye would say that. We’ve discovered though the device has nay effect on them, our models be susceptible t' ticklin', an' we think yours as well, even more so than any human. We propose a test”
“What kind o' test?”
“A two part test. Fer part A, ye sit on the table, an' have t' remain still while we tickle ye fer as long as ye can. Fer Part B, we hold ye down an' tickle ye, until ye say “Cylon” which will symbolize ye givin' up important informatin'”
“Well, this experiment o' yours looks like it will be o'er sooner then I thought”. At #8’s command, the lass sat on the table, her feet stretched out 'n front o' her. #6, who had remained silent all the time, sat at her feet an' smartly removed her shoes, revealin' her feet t' be perfect, as one would expect form an android. #3 noticed they were both barefoot as well. She raised her arms up 'n the air, an' said “Ready”.
#6 smirked an' ran her nails o'er her soles, elicitin' a smart giggle, an' her pullin' her feet back.
“Wow, ye lasted a whole three seconds”
“I wasn’t ready, that didn’t count” the lass replied, suddenly nervous. She hadn’t expected such a sensatin'. Maybe this would be harder then the lass thought. She stuck back out her feet, an' readied herself. #6 again danced her nails o'er her soles, but the lass fought the urge t' pull away. This became quite a bit harder when #8 began t' skitter her nails 'n her smooth armpits, makin' her wiggle crazily, but the lass didn’t try t' get away. She managed t' keep this up fer 5 minutes, until #6 squeezed her toes, makin' her burst out laughin' an' pull back her feet. #8 responded by diggin' into her armpits with all her might, as #3 pulled down her arms, which only dug the nails 'n worse, the lass continued screamin' with laughter until #8 stopped 'bout 10 seconds later.
“Wow, I never expected anythin' like that”
“Would ye like t' call it quits?”
“Not on yer life. Makin' me try t' get away proves nothin'” the lass said, knowin' full well how wrong the lass was. The sensatin' was pure hell, yet the lass wanted more o' it. It truly was strange, an' quite effective, as they said. And the lass knew that was only a small taste o' what they could unleash. Maybe this would be useful after all. But first, the lass decided t' try part B. #6 handed her a sleep mask, explainin' loss o' visual sense increased sensatin'. She put it on, an' laid on a piece o' paddin' the put on the table. #6 sat on her knees, pinnin' her #3’s legs 'tween her own, leavin' both her hands free, while #8 locked her arms 'tween her knees, holdin' them above her head. At their command, the lass tried t' get free, an' found, t' her horror, they had her 'n an inescapable grip. Then, #6 said began. However, they didn’t. Nonetheless, #3 found herself gigglin' 'n anticipatin', as the mask made it impossible t' tell when or where they would strike. The answer smartly became clear.
#6 began t' lightly play her fingers across #3’s toes, while #8 wasted nay time 'n diggin' into her stomach, sendin' her instantly into a laughin' fit, buckin' with what little freedom o' movement the lass had. She smartly realized how effective the mask was, not just 'n increasin' the sensatin', but allowin' them t' surprise her, as was the case when #8 suddenly started ticklin' her neck, which, though not as scurvy, still tickled horrible, though not as much as #6 rakin' her sharp nails down her smooth soles, which tickled her out o' her mind, an' made her scream with laughter.
#8 then decided t' try out her ribs, an' began t' spider her fingers up an' down them, the silk like material coverin' them makin' it easier t' slide her nails across them, which didn’t help #3 much. She tried with renewed vigor t' escape, t' nay avail. However, the lass refused t' admit that this was effective, an' as such, would not say the safe word.
“Wow, ye must love this” said #8, decidin' t' tease her “or else ye would have said Cylon”.
“And if ye do love it so much” added #6 “then ye love this even more” the lass said as the lass took out two forks, an' began t' stroke the tines up an' down her feet, causin' her t' yank at them so hard the lass almost managed t' free them, but all the lass accomplished was makin' #6 tighten her legs. #8 decided t' try an' tickle her more, an' began t' dig her nails into her ribs, makin' her scream even louder, an' start t' say “Nay nay nay!” through her laughter.
“All ye have t' do be say ‘Cylon’, then we’ll stop”
“Never! This be nothin'!”
“Have it yer way”. Unfortunately, #3’s way involved this stoppin', which wasn’t what the lass got at all. #6 went back t' her toes, ticklin' with her nails right 'tween them, while #8 went back t' her armpits, diggin' into them with all her might. This caused #3 t' laugh her loudest yet, so loud that some o' the other Cylons were able t' her it through the thick bulkheads, choosin' t' just ignore it. She began t' buck her hardest yet, almost managin' t' lift up #6, though this made her situatin' worse.
Her constant leg movement was rubbin' against #6’s crotch, an' was beginnin' t' turn her on. Since beginnin' this project, the lass had discovered her model had an inherent foot fetish, an' several times the lass an' some other model #6 were massage an' lick each other’s feet (would that count as a form o' incest or masturbatin'?) However, they had discovered, t' their pleasure, that when they attempted this on other female prisoners, it tickled them worse than anythin'.
Naturally, #6 scooted back, an' began t' lick an' suck her toes, makin' #3 laugh her loudest yet. She had nay idea anythin' could tickle so much, an', without thinkin', managed t' yell out “Cylon”. Despite her sayin' it clearly, they didn’t stop.
Instead, #8 said “I bet I can tickle her worse” an' ripped open the lower part o' her blouse. Despite the face mask, #3 knew exactly what the lass was goin' t' do. She was goin' t' tickle her stomach with her mouth. Despite her objectin's, an' constant yellin' o' the safe word, #8 bent o'er an' began t' blow raspberry after raspberry, makin' her laughter increase even more. While #6 had developed a foot fetish, #8 had developed a belly-button fetish, an' her an' the other models would enjoy ticklin' each other with raspberries.
Not t' be outdone, #6 began t' nibble her toes, makin' her already glass-breakin' laugh go higher still. Realizin' the lass was bein' beaten, #8 unleashed her secret weapon. She moved her hands back, an' blowin' raspberries all the while, began t' scratch #3’s hollows. Between the three different ticklin' focuses, #3 couldn’t even focus. But the lass did feel the added effect o' #6 borrow #8’s trick, an' scratchin' her soles while nibblin' her toes, pushin' her even farther o'er the edge. #8, meanwhile, 'n one last desperate gambit, began t' wiggle her tongue 'n #3’s bellybutton. That cinched it. Between all the super intense ticklin', #3 went into silent laughter, too tired t' even struggle anymore. After ten minutes, right 'ere the lass passed out, they stopped.
“Holy shit” the lass said 'tween gasps o' air “that was intense”
“Ya. Sorry 'bout not stoppin', but we felt it would be more realistic if we kept ticklin' ye, since unlike a interagatee [sic], ye had nothin' t' lose by givin' up” replied #6
“How did ye like it?” asked #8.
“As horrible as it was, I actually enjoyed it on some level. I think this will be a most successful technique. And BTW, #6 tickled more”
“Not surprisin'” said #8 “We’ve found feet be much more ticklish”
“Well, looks like we can move on from ticklin' each other then.” Said #6. After they, they froze fer a second, lookin' at each other.
“Actually, I think we’re nowhere near ready.” Said #3
“Needs tons more testin'” agreed #8
“And even when we do use it on humans, we’ll problem still have more testin' t' do” chimed 'n #6
“Actually, I can think o' a test right now” said #3
“O Really?” replied #8, with a smirk (YA RLY!)
“We’ll see if feet really be more ticklish then sides. Two o' us will sit on the table, their legs that be touchin' set out 'n front o' them. The third sits on their ankles. Then, the two have t' tickle the thirds ribs, while the third tickles their feet, until someone gives up. If the third gives up, they have t' be the let the other pin an' tickle them fer a minute, an' then be the third again. If one o' the two gives up, they’re pinned an' tickled fer a minute, an' then they’re the third.”
“So we see what’s worse, four hands ticklin' yer ribs, one ticklin' a single foot? I like it” said #6
“As do I” added #8 “Provided ye’ll go first”.
“Okay” said #3, with a nervous giggle.
With that, they got 'n positin', an' #6 asked “You ready?”. Rather than replyin', #3 dug into their feet, makin' them burst out laughin' as they were caught off guard. They smartly recovered, an' launched their own four hand assault against #3’s ribs…
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