Wanderer Groo
TMF Novice
- Joined
- Oct 9, 2010
- Messages
- 50
- Points
- 0
This here's a fanfiction based on Tower of Gargalesis, a tickling RPG by DeusExProcella. It probably won't make any sense to those of you who haven't played it, as there are a lot of references to events and characters within the game. I recommend playing it if you want to "get it." Actually, I recommend it even if you don't plan on reading the rest - it's a good game.:cool
Main thread for the game: http://www.tickletheater.com/showthread.php?t=56446
Good Touch
A Tower of Gargalesis fanfiction by Wanderer Groo
Celine sat down hard, the dirt beneath turning to mud from the drenched clothes. The once-stylish magician’s outfit was gifted an embarrassing brown splotch over its rear area, not that it was particularly noticeable with all the rips and stains already present. Idly, Celine tried to identify the sources of the various damages her outfit had endured. A tear in the cape had come when that…tree-lady-thing’s branch ripped through it. That tannish splotch across the chest happened just a few hours ago, when the giggle goblins almost managed to pin her into the dust. The grey scuff on her shoulder ground itself in when the guards hurled her into the cell without the faintest explanation. Nothing a good scrub won’t solve, but who wants to do the Outsider’s laundry? Heaven forbid anyone help with her own chores. And the grass stains on the knees…
The sudden thought of Hathor brought a blush to her face, but at the moment it was an unwelcome intrusion into her self-pity. She never had much use for those who wallowed in angst, but damn it, she was tired. Emotionally tired. Celine wasn’t a cloistered mage by anyone’s standards, and she had seen her share of battles. But this was so different, so stressful. One wrong turn, one wrong move in battle, one wrong decision on where to sleep, and her own personal Hell begins. No injury or quick death, but powerless slavery to whatever tickle-crazed monster got the better of her. And so many times she had come so close. So close…
Celine shuddered and giggled without joy, almost feeling those vines brush against her again. When she slept she slept fitfully, knowing Venus or any others like her could choose that moment to strike. And there was no one to watch her back. Celine was by herself in dank cellars and confounding forests. The townsfolk were indifferent at best, and even her kinda-sorta friend Honey Bee didn’t seem inclined to lend direct assistance. It was stressful. It was lonely. There was no one to bail you out if you got in a jam. All these endless risks she was taking, and nobody really seemed to care.
With a *squelch*, Celine flopped on her back and stared upward. She was physically tired too. Every day here had been a challenge in strength and endurance, neither of which were Celine’s forte. But today had really taken the cake. At the crack of dawn, she had walked to that farm and ended up in a wrestling match with a cow…girl…thing that had to have weighed a half a ton, and…
Another blush, and again Celine’s train of thought was briefly derailed. And that whole, ah, thing didn’t wrap up until the late afternoon.
“It was just the adrenaline, stupid.” Celine chided herself, recalling how refreshed she felt afterwards, and how confident she felt waltzing into the Giggle Goblin village. She knew how to handle them – they might look like scrawny teenagers, but they were a lot stronger than she was. They weren’t too bright, though, and tended to run forward, arms outstretched and fingers wiggling. Which opened them right up for a quick poke in the belly, from which point they were on the defense and easy prey.
Prey?
Shaking loose the thought, Celine allowed just a little bit of her old, confident smile to return. Their chieftain was tougher, though pretty much fell for the same tricks and went down the same way. Honestly, the only thing different she noted about the chieftain was a few gaudy anklets and other jewelry. That, and she actually seemed to have a bit of muscle tone, which on a giggle goblin probably meant she could shot-put an anvil. But Celine didn’t give her a chance to use her strength, and came out of the fight having barely broken a sweat. So easy that she didn’t feel even the least bit tempted to take unkind advantage of the defeated.
What came after, though, was another one of those close calls. Celine was really hoping the tribe would flee, or at least bow down and worship her. Instead, the whole horde of them charged, each one strong enough to manhandle her to the ground. She had to call up her magic like never before, keeping the crowd at bay while fending off closer ones with guarded pokes. Just like in the old world, magic was tiring. The drain of the spells and the frantic running exhausted her, and luck alone brought her to the river. It was swift and deep, and unlike her, the giggle goblins didn’t have stern fathers who made them attend swimming lessons throughout childhood.
I SO owe you one, Dad.
They had loitered at the shore, hoping she would be dumb enough to swim back to them. When it became clear she wouldn’t, they turned their attention to punishing their leader for her failure.
The same way everybody does to anybody for anything in this crazy world.
So now here she was, some distance downstream. The sun was setting, and she was chilly, dirty, exhausted, and quite miserable.
“But it’ll be too ironic if I die of exposure.” Celine never had a problem with talking to herself.
“So I have to get someplace. And really, really, really, I really need someplace that I can feel at least reasonably safe in, so I’m not waking up with a rush of terror with every imagined sound. Geez, how much have I actually slept since I got here?”
Her eyes drifted eastward, then rolled to the sky, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, sure, the village! Nice, safe haven for any adventurer. Maybe I’ll have a drink at the friendly neighborhood tavern before retiring to my luxurious sleeping quarters. I’ll have the friendly staff get me a new set of clothes while I take a nice hot bath. Hell, I’d take the hot bath over, over spiked boots right now. I’d even take it over…”
Hathor?
“Oh, get a grip, Celine.” She stood up, shivering as the wind wisped along (and yes, tickled) her body through the ripped fabric. “Even the wind’s in on it. Good grief.”
The lights of the town were dimly visible in the East. She knew what to expect there – angry stares, lecherous advances, and a chilly cell. The only household that might let her stay was still airing out tickle spores, and Celine had had quite enough of that. But to the South, there was that clearing where she first showed up. It certainly wasn’t great, but there was some ancient architecture, enough to at least somewhat shelter her. No worse than the cell. Everyone else seemed to avoid it, which was another positive quality. It was lonesome, but not really any more so than the hostile village. It wasn’t safe by a long stretch, but it’s not like the town had proven any safer. And on the teensiest chance that someone was after her, it would be good to sleep in unpredictable places.
Yep, I am sooo becoming paranoid. But does it still count as paranoia if it’s justified?
Her luck seemed to pick up. The ruins were close by, and had plenty of dry grass and scattered branches strewn about. She set some up by one of the pillars, and a bit of magic later, a cheery campfire was going. A sneeze and a shiver came as darkness fell, and she leaned in close over the flames.
“It’s a little chilly trying to dry out with the wet clothes still on, but I just know the very instant I take them off is the instant when-“
The crack of snapping twigs sounded.
“You have. Got. To. Be. Kidding me.” This wasn’t some imagined rustle waking her up with a start, there was definitely something on the other side of the pillar. Too tired and annoyed to be nervous, Celine rounded the structure, determined to take care of whatever it was quickly and get back to the fire.
“A giggle goblin. Great.” She raised her hands with exasperation, but unlike every single other one she had encountered, this one only cowered at the sight of her. Celine blinked and stepped to the side, letting the firelight illuminate the interloper. Yes, it was definitely a giggle goblin. One that had lost a pretty bad fight, by the looks of things. It…she, whatever, was bleeding from the forehead, bruised on the ribs, and generally covered in grime, save where two tear trails ran down her face.
Eyes widening in surprise and recognition, Celine looked it up and down. Most had been ripped off, but a few pieces of jewelry remained. Even more telling was the look the giggle goblin gave her. Fear was there, but also relief – that of all the beings that could have come here, the one that found it was the one who showed it mercy when even its kin would not.
The giggle goblin chieftain sprang forward suddenly and wrapped Celine in a hug, slamming the wind out of her. She awkwardly hugged it back, gasping for air and feeling uncomfortably warm all of a sudden.
Sudden fear welled in Celine’s chest as the red hair nuzzling against her found its way into the rips in her garment. She giggled as the damp hairs tickled her breasts, and with panicked strength she shoved the goblin away, quite a bit more forcefully than she intended. The giggle goblin stared back at her with the look of a kicked puppy, cowering once more. Celine glared back, trying to sign that she wanted to maintain her personal space.
I’m not feeling guilty at all. Nope, not at all. She’s a crazy tickle monster, and the more I keep my distance, the less likely I’ll wake up hogtied. Even if she’s feeling reasonable now, I don’t want to give her any temptation to fall back on her base instincts.
Like Hathor?
Shut up, you.
They locked eyes for a long moment, and Celine sighed, giving in to her kindly inclinations. “But I guess it can’t hurt to share the fire.”
There was no food or water to offer, no real shelter, not even a shared language between them. But when Celine gestured to the comforting blaze, the giggle goblin grinned like it was Christmas and scampered to the spot where Celine had been sitting. Celine pointedly sat on the opposite side of the fire, forsaking the cover the pillar provided for distance from her new campmate. The newcomer looked a little disappointed, but stayed still. Still, except for a constant twitching and rocking and wiggling her fingers.
The little spaz… “Hey, what’s your name?”
The twitching continued, this time accompanied by a blank stare.
“Of course not…hey, I’ll call you ‘Spaz.’ Is that okay?”
The giggle goblin still probably didn’t understand her, but seemed to realize Celine was asking a question. She smiled and nodded and scooched a little closer.
The hour or so that then passed was anything but restful. The newly-named Spaz continually inched in her direction whenever she thought Celine wasn’t looking. The persistence set Celine’s paranoia off on a new tangent, and that wasn’t the only thing keeping her wide awake. Of course she was nervous, with a giggle goblin so close and so focused on her every movement. But though Celine tried to fight it down, there was a hot flutter in her chest. Fantasies danced in her mind of stepping around the campfire and giving the trusting scamp a piano chorus of pokes to her little bruised ribs. The fantasies and the guilt they created did their part in keeping her awake and fidgety as well.
Compared to the exhaustion of just sitting there, the day had been a walk in a park. Celine managed to doze in a sitting position, a status that ended abruptly as Spaz came around and – gently, tenderly – touched her arm. Celine came awake with a confused shout, standing bolt upright and staggering about, hurling tickle wisps into the darkness.
“You are driving me nuts,” Celine laughed, panting as the adrenaline rush wore off. Spaz didn’t cower during this outburst. She just looked up at her nerve-wracked benefactor, understanding dawning on her face. The human was kind to her twice, and even named her. And yet she was afraid, wondering if the kindness would be repaid with treachery.
Well that would change, or her name wasn’t Spaz!
With a long sigh, Celine sat back down. Spaz flopped to the dirt with her back on the ground, kicking her feet in the air as she struggled with her straps. As Celine turned to look, she barely had time to duck as a sandal flew overhead. She looked behind her and looked back, seeing the other one shoot off in the opposite direction. Spaz’s struggles abruptly ceased, her back still on the ground, bare feet now reaching upwards. The two made eye contact again, Celine’s look of confusion matching the goblin’s of nervous determination. As Celine was still trying to comprehend the action, Spaz scooched over on her back and deposited her feet up on Celine’s lap.
Celine sputtered half-questions shrilly, eyes locked on the bare soles just inches from her face. The feet were smallish but smooth, heels and pads hardened from the wandering life. They were amazingly clean, something Celine had come to expect from this world. The toes were small little things, splayed outward for her to get the best view possible. Every inch so kissable, and doubtless so ticklish…
Celine licked her lips and forced her gaze to the side. Spaz was lying there on the ground, body rigid in anticipation. Her hands were gripped in fists, eyes clamped shut and teeth biting down on the lower lip. Already, Spaz was giggling a little in anticipation.
“Proving her submission,” Celine guessed, trying to keep her focus on the face. “Hoping I’ll just take a little. Well I’m not, I mean, I’m good. I’m fine. I mean, she’s basically just a kid. I don’t need this. I don’t-“
The words died in her throat as her eyes snapped back to the feet. She licked her lips again and wiped a hand across her mouth, thinking furiously. That hashes it: There is something seriously wrong with this world, and whatever it is, it’s affecting me. Before coming here, I wasn’t really into girls, and definitely not into feet or tickling. But here she was, mesmerized, fingers already quivering in anticipation. The same sexual urge that pulled them to Hathor’s breasts was pulling now. But it felt so wrong now, like robbing someone who trusts you with a purse. Or worse, like taking advantage of an adolescent. And damn it, she just couldn’t tear her gaze away. There they are. So close. Inviting. I even have permission. Is it so wrong?
For what seemed like an age, Celine was lost. She just HAD to touch those feet, but she knew that it was wrong, that she would be sick of herself afterwards. She wouldn’t tickle those feet, those ticklish feet, those ticklish, sexy little feet…
Think! Celine screwed her eyes shut, trying to think about something, anything else. Home, yes, think about home. The house. The well nearby. The gravel road. The innkeeper. The blacksmith. The blacksmith’s son-
Her eyes came back open as she hit upon an idea. She chuckled a little, wondering, and really hoping that she could have her cake and eat it too.
Biting her own bottom lip and shaking slightly, Celine took the right foot and gripped it with both hands. She settled her fingertips on the top side and brought her thumbs down to rest at the base of the arch. Spaz’s intermittent giggling had become continuous as the moment came, but still she struggled to not squirm.
What came next, though, shot Spaz’s eyes open in surprise. It wasn’t gentle or teasing, but a firm, predictable motion as Celine’s thumbs pressed deeply into the flesh of the foot and stroked upwards in two smooth lines. Then as they reached the top of the arch, they lifted from the foot, circled around, and placed themselves in the exact same spot, repeating the exact same motion over and over again.
Celine smiled. She was a delicate complainer as a teenager, and whenever she completed a chore that required a lot of walking or standing, the blacksmith’s son was there with the offer to rub her feet. In hindsight, he probably had a thing for her. Actually, the more she thought about it, the more she wondered if he would love this world. There had certainly been times when he “accidentally” tickled her while giving the promised massage. But more often than not he was honest, and Celine had picked up enough to give it at least reasonably competently.
The foot rub seemed to be having the desired effects on both parties. Spaz’s back was arched at nearly a right angle, a huge smile on her face and purr rumbling in her throat. The sensitive feet all people carried in this world were for once an advantage. And Celine felt satisfied. Not sexually satisfied, but really good. She had conquered her fear and temptation. For the first time since her arrival, she was touching another with intent other than frantic battle or ticklish play. It was just a foot rub, and the lustful and fearful tension was seeping out of her.
“I’m human,” Celine murmured, not really sure why. But it felt good to say so. She switched to the other foot and worked on it for a while. Without all the tension and nervous energy built up, she felt sleepy. Finally stopping her rubbing, Celine leaned back, rested her head against the ground, and fell asleep with the feet still sitting on her stomach. Careful not to disturb her, Spaz gently extricated herself. She squatted down next to Celine’s slumbering form, watching it into the night.
Celine gave a very unladylike yawn as she came awake. She opened her eyes and shut them immediately as the sun shone down from directly above. It was past midday, and she was alone once more.
“How long was I out?” A few more bleary blinks, and her eyes had adapted enough to at least look around. Sure enough, no Spaz. Reaching up to rub her eyes, Celine poked herself in the head with a rod she was holding.
The offending object was a small wooden flute. Not a sample of any great workmanship, nor was there much doubt as to who put it in her hand. Celine gently turned it over and over, smiling, taking in every detail. She felt better than she had in a long while. She helped Spaz, but maybe Spaz helped her just as much.
“I miss her already.” It was a great way to start the day, but Celine could do without the silence around her. Curious just how bad it would sound, she took a deep breath and blew into the flute.
Main thread for the game: http://www.tickletheater.com/showthread.php?t=56446
Good Touch
A Tower of Gargalesis fanfiction by Wanderer Groo
Celine sat down hard, the dirt beneath turning to mud from the drenched clothes. The once-stylish magician’s outfit was gifted an embarrassing brown splotch over its rear area, not that it was particularly noticeable with all the rips and stains already present. Idly, Celine tried to identify the sources of the various damages her outfit had endured. A tear in the cape had come when that…tree-lady-thing’s branch ripped through it. That tannish splotch across the chest happened just a few hours ago, when the giggle goblins almost managed to pin her into the dust. The grey scuff on her shoulder ground itself in when the guards hurled her into the cell without the faintest explanation. Nothing a good scrub won’t solve, but who wants to do the Outsider’s laundry? Heaven forbid anyone help with her own chores. And the grass stains on the knees…
The sudden thought of Hathor brought a blush to her face, but at the moment it was an unwelcome intrusion into her self-pity. She never had much use for those who wallowed in angst, but damn it, she was tired. Emotionally tired. Celine wasn’t a cloistered mage by anyone’s standards, and she had seen her share of battles. But this was so different, so stressful. One wrong turn, one wrong move in battle, one wrong decision on where to sleep, and her own personal Hell begins. No injury or quick death, but powerless slavery to whatever tickle-crazed monster got the better of her. And so many times she had come so close. So close…
Celine shuddered and giggled without joy, almost feeling those vines brush against her again. When she slept she slept fitfully, knowing Venus or any others like her could choose that moment to strike. And there was no one to watch her back. Celine was by herself in dank cellars and confounding forests. The townsfolk were indifferent at best, and even her kinda-sorta friend Honey Bee didn’t seem inclined to lend direct assistance. It was stressful. It was lonely. There was no one to bail you out if you got in a jam. All these endless risks she was taking, and nobody really seemed to care.
With a *squelch*, Celine flopped on her back and stared upward. She was physically tired too. Every day here had been a challenge in strength and endurance, neither of which were Celine’s forte. But today had really taken the cake. At the crack of dawn, she had walked to that farm and ended up in a wrestling match with a cow…girl…thing that had to have weighed a half a ton, and…
Another blush, and again Celine’s train of thought was briefly derailed. And that whole, ah, thing didn’t wrap up until the late afternoon.
“It was just the adrenaline, stupid.” Celine chided herself, recalling how refreshed she felt afterwards, and how confident she felt waltzing into the Giggle Goblin village. She knew how to handle them – they might look like scrawny teenagers, but they were a lot stronger than she was. They weren’t too bright, though, and tended to run forward, arms outstretched and fingers wiggling. Which opened them right up for a quick poke in the belly, from which point they were on the defense and easy prey.
Prey?
Shaking loose the thought, Celine allowed just a little bit of her old, confident smile to return. Their chieftain was tougher, though pretty much fell for the same tricks and went down the same way. Honestly, the only thing different she noted about the chieftain was a few gaudy anklets and other jewelry. That, and she actually seemed to have a bit of muscle tone, which on a giggle goblin probably meant she could shot-put an anvil. But Celine didn’t give her a chance to use her strength, and came out of the fight having barely broken a sweat. So easy that she didn’t feel even the least bit tempted to take unkind advantage of the defeated.
What came after, though, was another one of those close calls. Celine was really hoping the tribe would flee, or at least bow down and worship her. Instead, the whole horde of them charged, each one strong enough to manhandle her to the ground. She had to call up her magic like never before, keeping the crowd at bay while fending off closer ones with guarded pokes. Just like in the old world, magic was tiring. The drain of the spells and the frantic running exhausted her, and luck alone brought her to the river. It was swift and deep, and unlike her, the giggle goblins didn’t have stern fathers who made them attend swimming lessons throughout childhood.
I SO owe you one, Dad.
They had loitered at the shore, hoping she would be dumb enough to swim back to them. When it became clear she wouldn’t, they turned their attention to punishing their leader for her failure.
The same way everybody does to anybody for anything in this crazy world.
So now here she was, some distance downstream. The sun was setting, and she was chilly, dirty, exhausted, and quite miserable.
“But it’ll be too ironic if I die of exposure.” Celine never had a problem with talking to herself.
“So I have to get someplace. And really, really, really, I really need someplace that I can feel at least reasonably safe in, so I’m not waking up with a rush of terror with every imagined sound. Geez, how much have I actually slept since I got here?”
Her eyes drifted eastward, then rolled to the sky, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Oh, sure, the village! Nice, safe haven for any adventurer. Maybe I’ll have a drink at the friendly neighborhood tavern before retiring to my luxurious sleeping quarters. I’ll have the friendly staff get me a new set of clothes while I take a nice hot bath. Hell, I’d take the hot bath over, over spiked boots right now. I’d even take it over…”
Hathor?
“Oh, get a grip, Celine.” She stood up, shivering as the wind wisped along (and yes, tickled) her body through the ripped fabric. “Even the wind’s in on it. Good grief.”
The lights of the town were dimly visible in the East. She knew what to expect there – angry stares, lecherous advances, and a chilly cell. The only household that might let her stay was still airing out tickle spores, and Celine had had quite enough of that. But to the South, there was that clearing where she first showed up. It certainly wasn’t great, but there was some ancient architecture, enough to at least somewhat shelter her. No worse than the cell. Everyone else seemed to avoid it, which was another positive quality. It was lonesome, but not really any more so than the hostile village. It wasn’t safe by a long stretch, but it’s not like the town had proven any safer. And on the teensiest chance that someone was after her, it would be good to sleep in unpredictable places.
Yep, I am sooo becoming paranoid. But does it still count as paranoia if it’s justified?
Her luck seemed to pick up. The ruins were close by, and had plenty of dry grass and scattered branches strewn about. She set some up by one of the pillars, and a bit of magic later, a cheery campfire was going. A sneeze and a shiver came as darkness fell, and she leaned in close over the flames.
“It’s a little chilly trying to dry out with the wet clothes still on, but I just know the very instant I take them off is the instant when-“
The crack of snapping twigs sounded.
“You have. Got. To. Be. Kidding me.” This wasn’t some imagined rustle waking her up with a start, there was definitely something on the other side of the pillar. Too tired and annoyed to be nervous, Celine rounded the structure, determined to take care of whatever it was quickly and get back to the fire.
“A giggle goblin. Great.” She raised her hands with exasperation, but unlike every single other one she had encountered, this one only cowered at the sight of her. Celine blinked and stepped to the side, letting the firelight illuminate the interloper. Yes, it was definitely a giggle goblin. One that had lost a pretty bad fight, by the looks of things. It…she, whatever, was bleeding from the forehead, bruised on the ribs, and generally covered in grime, save where two tear trails ran down her face.
Eyes widening in surprise and recognition, Celine looked it up and down. Most had been ripped off, but a few pieces of jewelry remained. Even more telling was the look the giggle goblin gave her. Fear was there, but also relief – that of all the beings that could have come here, the one that found it was the one who showed it mercy when even its kin would not.
The giggle goblin chieftain sprang forward suddenly and wrapped Celine in a hug, slamming the wind out of her. She awkwardly hugged it back, gasping for air and feeling uncomfortably warm all of a sudden.
Sudden fear welled in Celine’s chest as the red hair nuzzling against her found its way into the rips in her garment. She giggled as the damp hairs tickled her breasts, and with panicked strength she shoved the goblin away, quite a bit more forcefully than she intended. The giggle goblin stared back at her with the look of a kicked puppy, cowering once more. Celine glared back, trying to sign that she wanted to maintain her personal space.
I’m not feeling guilty at all. Nope, not at all. She’s a crazy tickle monster, and the more I keep my distance, the less likely I’ll wake up hogtied. Even if she’s feeling reasonable now, I don’t want to give her any temptation to fall back on her base instincts.
Like Hathor?
Shut up, you.
They locked eyes for a long moment, and Celine sighed, giving in to her kindly inclinations. “But I guess it can’t hurt to share the fire.”
There was no food or water to offer, no real shelter, not even a shared language between them. But when Celine gestured to the comforting blaze, the giggle goblin grinned like it was Christmas and scampered to the spot where Celine had been sitting. Celine pointedly sat on the opposite side of the fire, forsaking the cover the pillar provided for distance from her new campmate. The newcomer looked a little disappointed, but stayed still. Still, except for a constant twitching and rocking and wiggling her fingers.
The little spaz… “Hey, what’s your name?”
The twitching continued, this time accompanied by a blank stare.
“Of course not…hey, I’ll call you ‘Spaz.’ Is that okay?”
The giggle goblin still probably didn’t understand her, but seemed to realize Celine was asking a question. She smiled and nodded and scooched a little closer.
The hour or so that then passed was anything but restful. The newly-named Spaz continually inched in her direction whenever she thought Celine wasn’t looking. The persistence set Celine’s paranoia off on a new tangent, and that wasn’t the only thing keeping her wide awake. Of course she was nervous, with a giggle goblin so close and so focused on her every movement. But though Celine tried to fight it down, there was a hot flutter in her chest. Fantasies danced in her mind of stepping around the campfire and giving the trusting scamp a piano chorus of pokes to her little bruised ribs. The fantasies and the guilt they created did their part in keeping her awake and fidgety as well.
Compared to the exhaustion of just sitting there, the day had been a walk in a park. Celine managed to doze in a sitting position, a status that ended abruptly as Spaz came around and – gently, tenderly – touched her arm. Celine came awake with a confused shout, standing bolt upright and staggering about, hurling tickle wisps into the darkness.
“You are driving me nuts,” Celine laughed, panting as the adrenaline rush wore off. Spaz didn’t cower during this outburst. She just looked up at her nerve-wracked benefactor, understanding dawning on her face. The human was kind to her twice, and even named her. And yet she was afraid, wondering if the kindness would be repaid with treachery.
Well that would change, or her name wasn’t Spaz!
With a long sigh, Celine sat back down. Spaz flopped to the dirt with her back on the ground, kicking her feet in the air as she struggled with her straps. As Celine turned to look, she barely had time to duck as a sandal flew overhead. She looked behind her and looked back, seeing the other one shoot off in the opposite direction. Spaz’s struggles abruptly ceased, her back still on the ground, bare feet now reaching upwards. The two made eye contact again, Celine’s look of confusion matching the goblin’s of nervous determination. As Celine was still trying to comprehend the action, Spaz scooched over on her back and deposited her feet up on Celine’s lap.
Celine sputtered half-questions shrilly, eyes locked on the bare soles just inches from her face. The feet were smallish but smooth, heels and pads hardened from the wandering life. They were amazingly clean, something Celine had come to expect from this world. The toes were small little things, splayed outward for her to get the best view possible. Every inch so kissable, and doubtless so ticklish…
Celine licked her lips and forced her gaze to the side. Spaz was lying there on the ground, body rigid in anticipation. Her hands were gripped in fists, eyes clamped shut and teeth biting down on the lower lip. Already, Spaz was giggling a little in anticipation.
“Proving her submission,” Celine guessed, trying to keep her focus on the face. “Hoping I’ll just take a little. Well I’m not, I mean, I’m good. I’m fine. I mean, she’s basically just a kid. I don’t need this. I don’t-“
The words died in her throat as her eyes snapped back to the feet. She licked her lips again and wiped a hand across her mouth, thinking furiously. That hashes it: There is something seriously wrong with this world, and whatever it is, it’s affecting me. Before coming here, I wasn’t really into girls, and definitely not into feet or tickling. But here she was, mesmerized, fingers already quivering in anticipation. The same sexual urge that pulled them to Hathor’s breasts was pulling now. But it felt so wrong now, like robbing someone who trusts you with a purse. Or worse, like taking advantage of an adolescent. And damn it, she just couldn’t tear her gaze away. There they are. So close. Inviting. I even have permission. Is it so wrong?
For what seemed like an age, Celine was lost. She just HAD to touch those feet, but she knew that it was wrong, that she would be sick of herself afterwards. She wouldn’t tickle those feet, those ticklish feet, those ticklish, sexy little feet…
Think! Celine screwed her eyes shut, trying to think about something, anything else. Home, yes, think about home. The house. The well nearby. The gravel road. The innkeeper. The blacksmith. The blacksmith’s son-
Her eyes came back open as she hit upon an idea. She chuckled a little, wondering, and really hoping that she could have her cake and eat it too.
Biting her own bottom lip and shaking slightly, Celine took the right foot and gripped it with both hands. She settled her fingertips on the top side and brought her thumbs down to rest at the base of the arch. Spaz’s intermittent giggling had become continuous as the moment came, but still she struggled to not squirm.
What came next, though, shot Spaz’s eyes open in surprise. It wasn’t gentle or teasing, but a firm, predictable motion as Celine’s thumbs pressed deeply into the flesh of the foot and stroked upwards in two smooth lines. Then as they reached the top of the arch, they lifted from the foot, circled around, and placed themselves in the exact same spot, repeating the exact same motion over and over again.
Celine smiled. She was a delicate complainer as a teenager, and whenever she completed a chore that required a lot of walking or standing, the blacksmith’s son was there with the offer to rub her feet. In hindsight, he probably had a thing for her. Actually, the more she thought about it, the more she wondered if he would love this world. There had certainly been times when he “accidentally” tickled her while giving the promised massage. But more often than not he was honest, and Celine had picked up enough to give it at least reasonably competently.
The foot rub seemed to be having the desired effects on both parties. Spaz’s back was arched at nearly a right angle, a huge smile on her face and purr rumbling in her throat. The sensitive feet all people carried in this world were for once an advantage. And Celine felt satisfied. Not sexually satisfied, but really good. She had conquered her fear and temptation. For the first time since her arrival, she was touching another with intent other than frantic battle or ticklish play. It was just a foot rub, and the lustful and fearful tension was seeping out of her.
“I’m human,” Celine murmured, not really sure why. But it felt good to say so. She switched to the other foot and worked on it for a while. Without all the tension and nervous energy built up, she felt sleepy. Finally stopping her rubbing, Celine leaned back, rested her head against the ground, and fell asleep with the feet still sitting on her stomach. Careful not to disturb her, Spaz gently extricated herself. She squatted down next to Celine’s slumbering form, watching it into the night.
Celine gave a very unladylike yawn as she came awake. She opened her eyes and shut them immediately as the sun shone down from directly above. It was past midday, and she was alone once more.
“How long was I out?” A few more bleary blinks, and her eyes had adapted enough to at least look around. Sure enough, no Spaz. Reaching up to rub her eyes, Celine poked herself in the head with a rod she was holding.
The offending object was a small wooden flute. Not a sample of any great workmanship, nor was there much doubt as to who put it in her hand. Celine gently turned it over and over, smiling, taking in every detail. She felt better than she had in a long while. She helped Spaz, but maybe Spaz helped her just as much.
“I miss her already.” It was a great way to start the day, but Celine could do without the silence around her. Curious just how bad it would sound, she took a deep breath and blew into the flute.
