The Bandito
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Hey y'all.
Bandito here. I know I don't post too often in the story section. I'm usually hiding in the artwork area. But I wanted to finally post a free chapter from Bounce Chix Origins (An illustrated enovel that Lotus and I did - available at mtj publishing).
This is a little scene that seemed to get a lot of interest from the novel: The intrepid Dusty has been captured by a loathsome (yet very hot) space pirate called Captain Blake.
And to those of you that are amazingly cool enough to have already purchased and enjoyed Bounce Chix Origins...you rock! And to let you know...Origins II is being wrapped up as we speak and will be available through MTJ in mid september.
Thanks everyone...please let me know what you think.
The Deeto
---------------------------------------------
As the pain behind her eyes begins to fade away it is replaced with the terror surrounding her.
She can see down the length of her own body. Feel the warm leather padding underneath her, probably black; knowing whose ship she’s been slipped to. Cold iron and rough leather straps hold her ruthlessly in place. They’re everywhere. Across her ankles keeping her boots still and spread-out about two feet. No movement possible at her knees. She can feel them there too. A pinch on her upper thighs right below her shorts keeps her hips pinned down hard. She can’t even wiggle her butt from side to side. Shit.
The rise and fall of her bare tummy betrayed too much. Strong will controlled her breathing. Calmed her down. Flickering lights, the warmth of candles, reflected off of the armour plating covering her curvy chest. Nice touch, Blake. Very funny.
A collar pined her throat to the table she’s lying on. But she could still breathe. They don’t want her dead. Yet. They want something else first. More straps than she could distinguish held her arms down, stretched tight behind her head. No way she’s getting out of this on her own.
No gag in her mouth, so they want to hear what ever it is she’s gotta say. Not a good sign. No blindfold over her eyes, so they want her to see what’s coming. Really not a good sign. Maybe they’re just planning on scaring her. But she kinda doubted it.
Her eyes continued to scan the room, hoping that there’s something to hope for. A huge cannon over to her right, bolted to the floor. Yup, she knew it. It’s a slip catch gun. How else would they have gotten her aboard the Dannsekold and into these restraints without her killing them both?
Polly was standing next to the gun. She wasn’t looking at her. Eyes down to the floor. Looked scared. A table over to her left. Nasty looking tools all in a row. She spotted a small black vial that looked like an evil pepper-shaker. A disintegration wand. Never a good sign. A few robotic accessories she’s not familiar with, and doesn’t really want to be. And some sort of weird thimbles connected to a power pack the size of a quarter. Whatever they have planned for her is really gonna suck.
Ghostly white skin appeared behind her like a sneaking wraith. A familiar face looked down at her trapped purple body and took her time owning every inch of the imposing Sarge with her golden eyes. Captain Blake slowly moved to a wooden stool at Dusty’s side down by her knees. And her black lip curled over her perfect smile when their eyes meet.
“Well if it isn’t the lovely Sergeant Dusty,” Blake ogled with a creepy lick of her lips. “I like ye so much better when yer lashed down.”
“Keep talkin’, Casper,” Dusty growled. “It gives me more time to think of inventive ways to kill you.”
“How’d I know ye’d say something smart like that?” Blake jeered disappointedly. She absently reached over to the table and picked up the disintegrator wand. “Now I’m s’posed to make elaborate threats, and we banter about this and that.”
“Bored already, huh?” Dusty chided. Truth was she was so scared that she could barely breathe. But what ever they were gonna do to her, they were gonna do no matter what. All she could hope for at this point was to maintain her pride. “How ‘bout we trade places, and I spice things up a bit?”
“I’ve got a better idea,” Blake grinned as she ran the wand over Dusty’s favorite boots. The smell of roasted fabric filled the small cabin and the grey smoke wafted in the candlelight. How ‘bout we skip all the boring parts and get right to the fun?”
Dusty knew better than to even respond as she felt the heat of the wand get closer to her feet. Ash fell from the remains of her boots, and the heels clunked loudly to the metal floor as they slid off her thin socks. She grimaced and tried to keep as still as possible while the edges of her socks evaporated and sent burning cinders floating down like doomed fireflies. Her eyes clamped shut and she slowed her breathing further as she prepared for the wand to touch down on her feet.
But it didn’t.
Blake sat motionless, waiting for her to look up again, down by her big beautiful light purple soles. Inter galactic size 15… harder than hell to find a pair of boots that really fit. Warm light bounced off the small evil pepper-shaker that Blake held over her toes.
“Do ye know what this be?” Blake asked mischievously, admiring Dusty’s soft naked feet.
“What’s left of your black soul?” Dusty replied, trying not to let the tremble be too obvious in her voice.
“Even better, Sarge. This be prickle powder,” Blake sneered, and tapped her finger against the bottom of the orb. Light green particles floated down and hungrily absorbed into Dusty’s feet, tasting her sweat. “Ye wouldn’t believe how hard this is to come by.”
But Dusty did believe it. She worked a case three years ago tracking one of the biggest controlled substance dealers in the uncharted areas. She knew all about prickle powder. They called it Scream Sand on the black market. One of many products made from the rare and exotic Prickleberry bush - it was essentially a nerve amplifier. A small amount absorbed into the body caused any epidermal contact to feel thousands of times more powerful than normal. That’s why they also called it the Green Torture. The more they used… the more she would feel it. And once it sunk into the skin, it would never wash off, it would never wear off, it’s effects would be permanent, haunting her for the rest of her life. How ever short that time might be.
Hot panic swelled up within the beautiful Sergeant. It didn’t matter what training she’d had now. Her resistance to pain and interrogation meant nothing. It didn’t matter what they were going to use: rip nails, the peeler. If they so much as touched her feet now… she was a goner.
Wild shivers ran along the bottoms of her naked feet as the powder took effect. One tap from that vial, and a million nerve ending vibrated in anticipation. She wiggled the three toes on both of her long feet to try and shake it off. But she knew it was useless. She almost screamed, but something inside her wouldn’t let it out.
“And of course ye know what this be,” Blake ridiculed, as she felt the fear well up within the bound victim before her. She slid a device over her hand like a glove. Small metal tips fit over her fingers, like thimbles, and cords connected to a round power packet on the back of her evil white hands. She fanned out her fingers for effect as a current of electricity danced along her hand.
A Lightning Glove. Just great. This was really gonna suck all right. No marks. No scars. Just pain. Lots and lots of searing blinding pain.
“I was thinking of startin’ with the fricassee setting,” Blake scoffed sinisterly, and lowered her fingers to inches above Dusty’s poor wrinkled soles. “But then I had a fun little thought. Ye see Dusty, for all yer strutting and prancing about like some rough and tugged wench with a chip on yer shoulder. I think yer just a soft tender little purple pansy.”
“IIIISH,” Dusty grimaced, as the crackling electricity got closer to her naked skin. She could feel it wanting to leap forward onto her feet. Her last reserves of strength overcame her desire to cry.
“And I couldn’t help but notice that every time someone mentioned tickling, you tried to hide a shiver runnin’ down yer spine. Didn’t ya?” Blake beamed threateningly as the first of the current touched down, under the balls of Dusty’s soft feet. “So I had Polly modify the gloves with a new setting.”
“MMMMMRPH…” Dusty blurted out as electric nails reached out to attack her body. She got ready to scream. The nerves sprang into enthusiastic action from the prickle powder. But what was this feeling? What was happening to her?
“I think I’ll call it the electro-feathers,” the pirate captain cooed. “So light and gentle… it won’t hurt a bit. But I think we might get some… well… other reactions from ye.”
“EEEYEEEEEAAAAAA HEEEEEEEEEEEE HAAAAAAAAAA!” Dusty bucked her entire body against the tight restraints. Rippling blue-white current stretched out from each finger and stroked up and down like perfect feathers of pure light.
“What’sa matter thar, Sarge?” Blake smiled sarcastically, dragging the crackling volts lightly over Dusty’s insanely tender feet. “A little ticklin’ getting’ y’all hot and bothered?”
“GEEEEEEEE EEEEEEHAAA HAAAAA HAAAAA HAAAAAAA!” Roared Dusty in hysterical reaction. This sensation on the bottom of her feet was unlike anything she thought possible. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t fight. And it tickled so much that after only a few strokes she could do nothing but bawl in hilarious response.
“Yer not screamin’ like that just from these sweet little photo-feathers, are ye?” Blake cackled at her howling peels of laughter. “Is yer little footsies ticklish all along here then?”
“WAAAAAAAAAAA HAAAAAAAA HAAAAAAA HAAAAAAAAA!!!” Dusty guffawed in desperation as the feathers worked down to her soft heels and tickled her with sinister efficiency.
“My my, I think they are indeed,” the treacherous captain confirmed after a thorough exploration. “But surely not all around these parhty toes? Are ye little piggies ticklish, Sarge?”
“NAAAAAA KLAAAAA GAAAAAAA HAAAA HAAA HAAA HAAA HAAA!!!” thundered the captive purple beauty. Oh god how it tickled. Every movement of those feathers tantalized a million nerves and extracted howling guffaws in response. How she hated this pirate. But all she could do was laugh as she tickled her feet beyond all her nightmares.
“Well ahl be a cross eyed seagull, I think these long and luscious toes really are ticklish,” Blake teased as her electric charges slipped into the dangerously sensitive spaces between Dusty’s wriggling toes. “I wonder what it’d do to ye if I gave ye a little tickle like this…aaaaaalllll along each toe… so very slowly.”
“PAAA HAAAA LEEEEE HEEEEEEEEEE HEEEEEEEE HEEEEEEEZE!!!” Cackled the overcome Sarge in ticklish agony. Blake held each toe still with one hand while she feathered it relentlessly with the other. Dusty bucked wildly as Blake would part her toes and wiggle the electric fingers in between.
“Ye sure do like having yer piggies tickled like this, Dusty,” Blake licked her lips lustfully, finding an intolerable pace all over her naked purple toes.
“GAAA HAAA HAAA HAAAAA HAAAA HAAAAA HAAAAAAD!!!” She begged endlessly. The tickled reverberated through her entire being. Her feet flexed anxiously, almost delighting at the attention, as she screamed for mercy.
“And these soft heels ye got,” Blake added as she continued her assault down to those glistening heels. “This is some fine ticklin’ down here, dontcha agree?
“FAAAAAAAA HEEEEE HWAAAAA HAAA HAAAA HAAAA HAA!!” Was all she could think to say. She trembled passionately as the attention continued. She felt her nipples rise triumphantly under her armoured top… pleading to be released. She hated it. She couldn’t bear another moment of the tender sting of those feathery caresses. But her body moved in ways she could never understand despite her pleading with it to help her.
“But I think yer very favorite of all,” Blake taunted with such evil delight, and danced her fingers rhythmically over every inch of soft skin on those perfect purple feet. “Is if I just tickle everywhere, and not skip a single spot.”
“KWAAAAA HAAAA HAAAAA HAAAAA HJAAAAAA HAAAAA!!!” Dusty roared at the top of her lungs. Her trapped feet scrunching in blissful defence against the relentless stroking of her demented captor did nothing to protect her from being tickled so much. So terribly. So amazingly.
“Just as I thought,” Blake confirmed wickedly and tickled her to the teetering brink of unconsciousness. “The great Sergeant Dusty goes all to pieces, just from having feathers tickle ‘er big tender footsies.”
“IEYAAAAAAAAAAA HAAAAA HAAAAAAAAA HA HA HA HAAAAAA!!!” Dusty erupted again and again. Her poor throat ached with every bawl of laughter. But Blake wouldn’t even stop for a second. Blackness encroached into her eyes. She felt herself falling backward into inky oblivion. She heard her own laughter distantly fading into the night.
And a moment from the release of unconsciousness Blake halted her endless tickling dance on Dusty's naked feet and Polly held something shocking under her nostrils – violently bringing her back to full focus.
Blake calmly picked up the wooden stool and moved it right under Dusty’s left underarm, and sat down with her legs spread wide. Polly kneeled at Dusty’s feet. Still wouldn’t look her in the eye. Redness around her own almond shaped eyes. And the faint shimmer of green powder across her own perky chest told a story all its own.
“So now that we know yer just a ticklish little softy,” Blake leered with evil radiance into Dusty’s tear soaked eyes. “We’re gonna ask ye a few questions. And if ye liked me tickly little touches a minute ago. Just wait. It gets better.”
Polly raised her black metal-covered hands with the Lightning Gloves already attached and paused in front of Dusty’s trembling feet. Blake held up the disintegrator wand and began to wave it over the armour on her chest.
Dusty gasped for only a moment in ticklish panic before Polly began to give her the most incredible foot tickles thus far, and then erupted into bawling laughter as she felt her entire top begin to disintegrate and feather-like current descend upon her feet.
“That’s right, Pansy,” Blake cackled as the blue light from the wand reflected terrifying shadows on her face. “It’s gonna get so much better.”
Bandito here. I know I don't post too often in the story section. I'm usually hiding in the artwork area. But I wanted to finally post a free chapter from Bounce Chix Origins (An illustrated enovel that Lotus and I did - available at mtj publishing).
This is a little scene that seemed to get a lot of interest from the novel: The intrepid Dusty has been captured by a loathsome (yet very hot) space pirate called Captain Blake.
And to those of you that are amazingly cool enough to have already purchased and enjoyed Bounce Chix Origins...you rock! And to let you know...Origins II is being wrapped up as we speak and will be available through MTJ in mid september.
Thanks everyone...please let me know what you think.
The Deeto
---------------------------------------------
As the pain behind her eyes begins to fade away it is replaced with the terror surrounding her.
She can see down the length of her own body. Feel the warm leather padding underneath her, probably black; knowing whose ship she’s been slipped to. Cold iron and rough leather straps hold her ruthlessly in place. They’re everywhere. Across her ankles keeping her boots still and spread-out about two feet. No movement possible at her knees. She can feel them there too. A pinch on her upper thighs right below her shorts keeps her hips pinned down hard. She can’t even wiggle her butt from side to side. Shit.
The rise and fall of her bare tummy betrayed too much. Strong will controlled her breathing. Calmed her down. Flickering lights, the warmth of candles, reflected off of the armour plating covering her curvy chest. Nice touch, Blake. Very funny.
A collar pined her throat to the table she’s lying on. But she could still breathe. They don’t want her dead. Yet. They want something else first. More straps than she could distinguish held her arms down, stretched tight behind her head. No way she’s getting out of this on her own.
No gag in her mouth, so they want to hear what ever it is she’s gotta say. Not a good sign. No blindfold over her eyes, so they want her to see what’s coming. Really not a good sign. Maybe they’re just planning on scaring her. But she kinda doubted it.
Her eyes continued to scan the room, hoping that there’s something to hope for. A huge cannon over to her right, bolted to the floor. Yup, she knew it. It’s a slip catch gun. How else would they have gotten her aboard the Dannsekold and into these restraints without her killing them both?
Polly was standing next to the gun. She wasn’t looking at her. Eyes down to the floor. Looked scared. A table over to her left. Nasty looking tools all in a row. She spotted a small black vial that looked like an evil pepper-shaker. A disintegration wand. Never a good sign. A few robotic accessories she’s not familiar with, and doesn’t really want to be. And some sort of weird thimbles connected to a power pack the size of a quarter. Whatever they have planned for her is really gonna suck.
Ghostly white skin appeared behind her like a sneaking wraith. A familiar face looked down at her trapped purple body and took her time owning every inch of the imposing Sarge with her golden eyes. Captain Blake slowly moved to a wooden stool at Dusty’s side down by her knees. And her black lip curled over her perfect smile when their eyes meet.
“Well if it isn’t the lovely Sergeant Dusty,” Blake ogled with a creepy lick of her lips. “I like ye so much better when yer lashed down.”
“Keep talkin’, Casper,” Dusty growled. “It gives me more time to think of inventive ways to kill you.”
“How’d I know ye’d say something smart like that?” Blake jeered disappointedly. She absently reached over to the table and picked up the disintegrator wand. “Now I’m s’posed to make elaborate threats, and we banter about this and that.”
“Bored already, huh?” Dusty chided. Truth was she was so scared that she could barely breathe. But what ever they were gonna do to her, they were gonna do no matter what. All she could hope for at this point was to maintain her pride. “How ‘bout we trade places, and I spice things up a bit?”
“I’ve got a better idea,” Blake grinned as she ran the wand over Dusty’s favorite boots. The smell of roasted fabric filled the small cabin and the grey smoke wafted in the candlelight. How ‘bout we skip all the boring parts and get right to the fun?”
Dusty knew better than to even respond as she felt the heat of the wand get closer to her feet. Ash fell from the remains of her boots, and the heels clunked loudly to the metal floor as they slid off her thin socks. She grimaced and tried to keep as still as possible while the edges of her socks evaporated and sent burning cinders floating down like doomed fireflies. Her eyes clamped shut and she slowed her breathing further as she prepared for the wand to touch down on her feet.
But it didn’t.
Blake sat motionless, waiting for her to look up again, down by her big beautiful light purple soles. Inter galactic size 15… harder than hell to find a pair of boots that really fit. Warm light bounced off the small evil pepper-shaker that Blake held over her toes.
“Do ye know what this be?” Blake asked mischievously, admiring Dusty’s soft naked feet.
“What’s left of your black soul?” Dusty replied, trying not to let the tremble be too obvious in her voice.
“Even better, Sarge. This be prickle powder,” Blake sneered, and tapped her finger against the bottom of the orb. Light green particles floated down and hungrily absorbed into Dusty’s feet, tasting her sweat. “Ye wouldn’t believe how hard this is to come by.”
But Dusty did believe it. She worked a case three years ago tracking one of the biggest controlled substance dealers in the uncharted areas. She knew all about prickle powder. They called it Scream Sand on the black market. One of many products made from the rare and exotic Prickleberry bush - it was essentially a nerve amplifier. A small amount absorbed into the body caused any epidermal contact to feel thousands of times more powerful than normal. That’s why they also called it the Green Torture. The more they used… the more she would feel it. And once it sunk into the skin, it would never wash off, it would never wear off, it’s effects would be permanent, haunting her for the rest of her life. How ever short that time might be.
Hot panic swelled up within the beautiful Sergeant. It didn’t matter what training she’d had now. Her resistance to pain and interrogation meant nothing. It didn’t matter what they were going to use: rip nails, the peeler. If they so much as touched her feet now… she was a goner.
Wild shivers ran along the bottoms of her naked feet as the powder took effect. One tap from that vial, and a million nerve ending vibrated in anticipation. She wiggled the three toes on both of her long feet to try and shake it off. But she knew it was useless. She almost screamed, but something inside her wouldn’t let it out.
“And of course ye know what this be,” Blake ridiculed, as she felt the fear well up within the bound victim before her. She slid a device over her hand like a glove. Small metal tips fit over her fingers, like thimbles, and cords connected to a round power packet on the back of her evil white hands. She fanned out her fingers for effect as a current of electricity danced along her hand.
A Lightning Glove. Just great. This was really gonna suck all right. No marks. No scars. Just pain. Lots and lots of searing blinding pain.
“I was thinking of startin’ with the fricassee setting,” Blake scoffed sinisterly, and lowered her fingers to inches above Dusty’s poor wrinkled soles. “But then I had a fun little thought. Ye see Dusty, for all yer strutting and prancing about like some rough and tugged wench with a chip on yer shoulder. I think yer just a soft tender little purple pansy.”
“IIIISH,” Dusty grimaced, as the crackling electricity got closer to her naked skin. She could feel it wanting to leap forward onto her feet. Her last reserves of strength overcame her desire to cry.
“And I couldn’t help but notice that every time someone mentioned tickling, you tried to hide a shiver runnin’ down yer spine. Didn’t ya?” Blake beamed threateningly as the first of the current touched down, under the balls of Dusty’s soft feet. “So I had Polly modify the gloves with a new setting.”
“MMMMMRPH…” Dusty blurted out as electric nails reached out to attack her body. She got ready to scream. The nerves sprang into enthusiastic action from the prickle powder. But what was this feeling? What was happening to her?
“I think I’ll call it the electro-feathers,” the pirate captain cooed. “So light and gentle… it won’t hurt a bit. But I think we might get some… well… other reactions from ye.”
“EEEYEEEEEAAAAAA HEEEEEEEEEEEE HAAAAAAAAAA!” Dusty bucked her entire body against the tight restraints. Rippling blue-white current stretched out from each finger and stroked up and down like perfect feathers of pure light.
“What’sa matter thar, Sarge?” Blake smiled sarcastically, dragging the crackling volts lightly over Dusty’s insanely tender feet. “A little ticklin’ getting’ y’all hot and bothered?”
“GEEEEEEEE EEEEEEHAAA HAAAAA HAAAAA HAAAAAAA!” Roared Dusty in hysterical reaction. This sensation on the bottom of her feet was unlike anything she thought possible. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t fight. And it tickled so much that after only a few strokes she could do nothing but bawl in hilarious response.
“Yer not screamin’ like that just from these sweet little photo-feathers, are ye?” Blake cackled at her howling peels of laughter. “Is yer little footsies ticklish all along here then?”
“WAAAAAAAAAAA HAAAAAAAA HAAAAAAA HAAAAAAAAA!!!” Dusty guffawed in desperation as the feathers worked down to her soft heels and tickled her with sinister efficiency.
“My my, I think they are indeed,” the treacherous captain confirmed after a thorough exploration. “But surely not all around these parhty toes? Are ye little piggies ticklish, Sarge?”
“NAAAAAA KLAAAAA GAAAAAAA HAAAA HAAA HAAA HAAA HAAA!!!” thundered the captive purple beauty. Oh god how it tickled. Every movement of those feathers tantalized a million nerves and extracted howling guffaws in response. How she hated this pirate. But all she could do was laugh as she tickled her feet beyond all her nightmares.
“Well ahl be a cross eyed seagull, I think these long and luscious toes really are ticklish,” Blake teased as her electric charges slipped into the dangerously sensitive spaces between Dusty’s wriggling toes. “I wonder what it’d do to ye if I gave ye a little tickle like this…aaaaaalllll along each toe… so very slowly.”
“PAAA HAAAA LEEEEE HEEEEEEEEEE HEEEEEEEE HEEEEEEEZE!!!” Cackled the overcome Sarge in ticklish agony. Blake held each toe still with one hand while she feathered it relentlessly with the other. Dusty bucked wildly as Blake would part her toes and wiggle the electric fingers in between.
“Ye sure do like having yer piggies tickled like this, Dusty,” Blake licked her lips lustfully, finding an intolerable pace all over her naked purple toes.
“GAAA HAAA HAAA HAAAAA HAAAA HAAAAA HAAAAAAD!!!” She begged endlessly. The tickled reverberated through her entire being. Her feet flexed anxiously, almost delighting at the attention, as she screamed for mercy.
“And these soft heels ye got,” Blake added as she continued her assault down to those glistening heels. “This is some fine ticklin’ down here, dontcha agree?
“FAAAAAAAA HEEEEE HWAAAAA HAAA HAAAA HAAAA HAA!!” Was all she could think to say. She trembled passionately as the attention continued. She felt her nipples rise triumphantly under her armoured top… pleading to be released. She hated it. She couldn’t bear another moment of the tender sting of those feathery caresses. But her body moved in ways she could never understand despite her pleading with it to help her.
“But I think yer very favorite of all,” Blake taunted with such evil delight, and danced her fingers rhythmically over every inch of soft skin on those perfect purple feet. “Is if I just tickle everywhere, and not skip a single spot.”
“KWAAAAA HAAAA HAAAAA HAAAAA HJAAAAAA HAAAAA!!!” Dusty roared at the top of her lungs. Her trapped feet scrunching in blissful defence against the relentless stroking of her demented captor did nothing to protect her from being tickled so much. So terribly. So amazingly.
“Just as I thought,” Blake confirmed wickedly and tickled her to the teetering brink of unconsciousness. “The great Sergeant Dusty goes all to pieces, just from having feathers tickle ‘er big tender footsies.”
“IEYAAAAAAAAAAA HAAAAA HAAAAAAAAA HA HA HA HAAAAAA!!!” Dusty erupted again and again. Her poor throat ached with every bawl of laughter. But Blake wouldn’t even stop for a second. Blackness encroached into her eyes. She felt herself falling backward into inky oblivion. She heard her own laughter distantly fading into the night.
And a moment from the release of unconsciousness Blake halted her endless tickling dance on Dusty's naked feet and Polly held something shocking under her nostrils – violently bringing her back to full focus.
Blake calmly picked up the wooden stool and moved it right under Dusty’s left underarm, and sat down with her legs spread wide. Polly kneeled at Dusty’s feet. Still wouldn’t look her in the eye. Redness around her own almond shaped eyes. And the faint shimmer of green powder across her own perky chest told a story all its own.
“So now that we know yer just a ticklish little softy,” Blake leered with evil radiance into Dusty’s tear soaked eyes. “We’re gonna ask ye a few questions. And if ye liked me tickly little touches a minute ago. Just wait. It gets better.”
Polly raised her black metal-covered hands with the Lightning Gloves already attached and paused in front of Dusty’s trembling feet. Blake held up the disintegrator wand and began to wave it over the armour on her chest.
Dusty gasped for only a moment in ticklish panic before Polly began to give her the most incredible foot tickles thus far, and then erupted into bawling laughter as she felt her entire top begin to disintegrate and feather-like current descend upon her feet.
“That’s right, Pansy,” Blake cackled as the blue light from the wand reflected terrifying shadows on her face. “It’s gonna get so much better.”
