Planet of Ticklish Women-SciFi FF/M and WTF/M (Rated Mature)

[Slaver123]

Sci-Fi themes, not for kids at all
FF/M, M/FF, ffffffffff/M, fffffffff/ffffffff, mmm/fffff, ***/F, and F/WTF?/M
:stickout
(Another short n snappy tale of tickles begins-lemme know if ya like it)


So I found this planet populated by gorgeous females (real, android, and "augmented") who tickle the daylights out of each other all day.

There's men there too- but a man's status depends which continent he crashes on, and if you don't like it, it can take a long time to work your way somewhere else.

On the Northern Continent they tease their few men mercilessly- tickle them all day, leave them chained up and unsatisfied as they're forced to watch and drool as the women make out with each other all night.

On B7V7-4ZA Island (I don't make up these names) the males get to do the tickling- but there's too many women and not enough men, so the women who don't get their "turn" end up whipping the poor fellas on the weekend. (Fair price to pay for 5 days of sexy wriggling toes and curvy squirming bodies) Male ticklers are quite the commodity, and the ladies here sure bring new life to the phrase "Stock Market"!

Equesstar, the Eastern Continent, is all Hot Female Centaurs, with human feet instead of hooves (If you can't see where this is going...) and men have eight arms. This is mandated by sacred law; these people aren't born that way, anyone can (and must) get the limb-graft.

Southern Continents A and B are parodies of gothic Heaven and Hell- glorious shining cities of "angels" float over seas of red "demons"- the Angels do their thing with gold chains and feathers, the devils use their long nails- this is where I got stuck at first, chained to a rock with an amazingly hot red devil-woman named HornyDevilGirl666-OzzyRules14815B (it's a popular name here, Ozzy for short) raking her claws up and down my chest, way past what I could stand. Her girlfriends would help work me over on my feet, as fake "cool flames" (special room temperature fire) blazed all around us.

One day an "angel" named FeatherValkyrie448 dropped by to join in, and her feathers were UNBEARABLE! So I embarked on a series of wagers with the naked devil-girls; won hours upon hours of tickle privileges against them- cashed in a good deal of it (heh heh) but saved up enough to pay for passage to "heaven".

Looked up that particular "angel" and, well, you know what happens... feathers, feathers, FEATHERS! Soft smooth skin pressed close to mine, silky clouds, gold and silver chains, ambrosia to drink...

Eventually Val the Angel and I looked up the devil-girl (Ozzy) who'd been "mine" in the underworld (or rather I had been hers)-

(Note: this took practically forever-do I really need to explain just how many different combinations of "Devil", "Girl", "666", and "Ozzy" there are in Faux-Hell's phonebook?? Or how the so-called "phonebook" was really words appearing ON THE SOLES OF OUR FEET that we had to trace over and over and over, slowly, WITH A BALLPOINT PEN!!!)

Finally we all embarked on a quest to explore the many continents of this planet; all together as three friends, arm-in-arm (ok as two hot chicks who usually tickle the crap out of me in tandem, carting me around between them trussed up like a banner between 2 poles, or often driving me as I pull them in a cruel bondage-rickshaw contraption)

We've only visited the places I mentioned above, so far. Got the limb-grafts on Equesstar, then turned em back in at the Gate. (I secretly enjoyed the Northern Continent the most, but don't tell the ladies!) Each journey takes months and months, and tolls can cost an underarm and a foot (hee hee)

Tomorrow we're off to the Android Continent, and I can't wait....
Do you think "Cyber Tentacle Land" will live up to all the hype in the brochure?



And if you like this story so far, where do you think we should visit next???

(By all means, add a chapter if you want. Tell me about YOUR visit to that happy planet)

 

[svegau]

It's a nice story. It has a "Dante's Inferno" type feel to it and seems to be extremely flexible. I look forward to seeing how it develops.

 

[Kunzite1]

Sounds like a great setup, a world rife with possibilities!

 

[Slaver123]

Sidetracked! Lost In The Forest! (mature themes, everyone's over 21, most are actually over 1000 but that's all boring technical super-science stuff)

Well, we got the wrong continent. So no "Cyber Tentacle Land" for now :-(

We "borrowed" a speed-rower, that's like a speed boat but whoever's the slave has to row it- in order to cross the Lefthand Ocean (for sake of clarity, there is no "Righthand Ocean, never was- don't ask me who named stuff on this planet) in search of the Android Continent.

Ozzy and Val were sorta wind-surfing above me as I struggled and sweated at the oars (they have wings). The oars are there for purely aesthetic and cruelty-related reasons; the boat can go 100 knots of its own accord, but needs someone either rowing or being tickled to laughter before it'll budge an inch.

(kinda like everything else on this planet)

The powerful breeze from all that speed should have cooled me down, except the oarsman sits chained in a "sweat chamber", a big glass bubble of hot discomfort. But I wasn't being tickled for a change, and the thought of the two lovelies enjoying themselves in the air above me as I toiled and suffered...

Anyway we wound up lost in "The Forest" by mistake. What a place! Full of big, gnarly, oddly-swaying trees- a dark forest filled with pixie-lights, like a million fireflies. That's from a distance.

Up close, strolling through the Forest (or strolling along "walking" a naked red devil-girl on a leash/muzzle combo cause she lost another bet to me) you see the trunks and branches are made of literal knots of nude women. Every branch, every limb, every tree trunk is comprised of nude beauties bound together by vines somehow.

It looks like something out of a vision of the Inferno (perhaps the Wood of the Suicides?) till you watch for a bit, see many of them kissing and making out, caressing each other lovingly, and always of course laughing at the torturous brush of pixie-wings. There's countless very-Adult-looking little faeries buzzing all around the "trees" tickling the defenseless female skin with their wings and their sparkly wands.

We three tickle maniacs couldn't resist and set to work with our feathers and fingers on a particular "tree" till we had the whole wondrous mass gyrating in desparate sensation! Well, Val and me did the tickling at first, Ozzy had to watch in mounting frustration for a while, cause of the bet she lost earlier. We really wanted to tease her for a while.

So when we finally cut poor Ozzy loose she literally LEAPT right in and attacked that tree- and accidentally cut the main vine holding it all together.

Now picture this- a flood of women, spilling out all around us, free for the first time probably ever. (Don't think these were "born" ones; I'm almost certain these were bio-manufactured, since not that many REAL women in the whole galaxy would opt for this particular sort of treatment)

Legs, arms, heads, hair, feet, backs, fronts- all cascading around me till I was nearly smothered (my winged companions skipped out of the way in time, of course)- this was better than Faux-Heaven!

The women slowly got up, dusted themselves off as the stunned faeries formed a big ring in the air to watch the scene- then as a single unit the gals pretty much tickle-attacked me...

Think about it- bound in a tree for centuries, tormented by tickle-faeries their entire existence, in a constant orgy of arousal, never free to move about- and now suddenly a man, maybe the first man they'd ever laid eyes (or fingers) on, falls to their mercy...

Man was I in trouble!!!!!

 

[Journia]

Lol

 

[svegau]

Whoa! That's quite a scene. Nice development. 🙂

 

[Slaver123]

Thanks! I appreciate the feedback, specially since there's people on this forum who write 100x better than me

 

[Cosmo_ac1]

I'm loving the settings. Keep it up!

 

[Slaver123]

TROUBLE!!!!

(Precious little tickling in this chapter, thanks to the Slugs...)

Here's the part where my narrative ceases to be a travel-brochure. I could go on telling you happy tales of endless continents of laughter, but "they" came to shut us down. Who? The Authoritarian Slug Agents, the ASA, that's who. Led by the council of Authoritarian Supreme Slugs (ASSes) Minds "narrow and angry and unsympathetic" who felt we were all having WAY too much fun here and wanted to appropriate our vast torture-resources for actual unwilling imprisonment of their suspected enemies!

Imagine the unthinkable stupidity of that; mankind and the various other races have shared the secrets of all-but-limitless resources for decades, yet to this day there's factions within this galaxy that STILL wage wars, still allocate their virtually limitless resources via Draconian rationing systems, STILL extract information via real non-consensual torture!! And most of them are humans doing this!!

(They're issued Slug-form bodies to keep them focused on the tasks at hand and not distracted by anything you or I would find remotely interesting)

Back up- first I knew about it, first time I sensed anything wrong, I had my head thrown back laughing and pleading in total abandon as my Angel and Devil friend tickled me long-term unmercifully in the town square with the aid of a cute Mad-Science Lab-Assistant from the Science continent.
I and two gorgeous redheads were bound in a most curious set of mechanical pillories, which the Lab-chick operated by remote control, positioning us into all sorts of Twister-esque contortions as various little floating RC feather-bots found and exploited our most secret places, when we were interrupted by a series of flashes way up in the sky.

A whole Hemisphere of tickling paused, took a few breaths, and DID NOT immediately resume the tickling.

Turns out the fools sent an old-school Slug Warfleet to bombard our planet (OUR planet? Hmmm...yes, I'm not a native, but I guess I HAVE accepted this place as my yummy new home) Didn't make it past the "Firewall" though, several dozen rocky-looking Defense Behemoths in standard orbit which made short work of their big metal Slug-Cans.

Not a single Slug-ship or Slug-Soldier made it through to the planet's surface...BUT....

We have a BIG problem now. Fallout from the exploding ships managed to spread a Slug-Virus, a quasi-biological quasi-AI virus, more of a sort of....well, to make a long story short, we've got all sorts of Tree-Women and Devil girls and Mad Tickle-Scientists all going crazy and growing desks in the middle of the woods, printing stacks of paperwork out of every nano-assembler they can get their paws on and trying to "Audit" the rest of us, or impose all sorts of "safety codes" on our activities and otherwise basically ruin the big party.

I've got one at gunpoint right now. It wants me to prove I'm over 18. (I'm a LOT older than that!)

"Your body was recently re-constituted" it drones. Originally a female feather-nymph, now some kind of frumpy office-battleaxe who's not even decent fodder for a sex fantasy. "On Continent 3 City 1A Installation B35, formerly designated 'Dr Squirmer's Institute for Advanced Tickling Studies' your body expired due to continued exposure to 'Sensory Intensification Techniques' and was re-constituted in a standard Regeneration Terminal."

(I used to try and tickle their feet as they mouthed their interminable words, but these "Slug-Hybrids" are just not ticklish anymore)

That's a paper-pusher's dull way of saying how the lovely, Camisole-and-labcoat clad Dr Missy Squirmer had tickled me to death for the third time that Summer; and as happens every time someone dies on this planet I was plunked into a freshly-grown spare body. Done it a dozen times since coming here.

"Under Slug Law, this makes your current form only three weeks old, and thus a minor, and has been unlawfully made to participate in activities of an (ahem) 'erotic or quasi-erotic nature' by..."

"By whom?" I interrupt. "Who is this culprit who forced my brand new three-week-old body to participate in this horrible sexual orgy? Hmmm, speak up?"

She/it looks at me perfectly straight-faced and proceeds to mouth a familiar series of numbers and letters, which I recognize as the Regenerator machine's designation FOR MY OWN MIND-PATTERN!!!

"So you're accusing me, my mind, a legal adult over 4 standard DECADES old, of molesting.... MY OWN BODY????" (I love this part) "It's against your law for me to tickle MYSELF???"

"Just finish her off" it's Ozzy, standing point behind me, clad in sexy camo-fatigues and holding a HUGE weapon, like Ripley's gun from Aliens only spiky with knives all over. "Do you have to make them say it EVERY time?"

"Oh all right" I agree, and blow the thing's head off with a single Explod-o-Round TM to the head. I see her point, there's 30 more to go behind it, male and female, all behind desks, all waving BS paperwork at us. A forest full of desks and mutant bureaucrats....

It's a tragedy. These used to be perfectly good tickle-fiends and sexy tickle-victims all tied to trees or in cages or half-stuck in the ground, writhing in delight and agony- now look at them! Paper-worms!! Boring old fuddy-duddys! It's just the automata so far who are infected- not the original "live minds" like me. We all volunteered to help put them down, it's gotta be done, but we can at least TRY to make it fun...


And Ozzy looks so amazing in her tight parody of a uniform (yeah, red and black really blend in out here in the woods!) .....Our whole squad gets some serious R&R after every one of these "battles"- all the sweeter cause we have to "earn" it now, it's no longer just all-day fun and games and laughter....

The cute Lab Assistant is back in Science-Land helping upgrade our defenses. Val the Angel flies overhead, flaming sword levelling forests wherever Slug-Hybrids are found...It's far from over. I carry a laptop now, I was drafted into the Strategic High Command (cause I'm a man? Let's not go there...) in constant communication with the others, and our consensus is the Slugs WILL try again. Probably the same tactic a few more times, "Keep Trying the Same Thing Till You Succeed" is practically their mission statement; but then they'll get a little smarter and hire mercenaries, and THEN we're in for some trouble...

 

[Slaver123]

(my thanks to the 2 or 3 people who read this crap. I'm having a blast writing it, and that's what counts) 🙂


NEXT CHAPTER: HOODWINKED! (Lotsa tickling this time- M/F, F/FFF, some orgasms, and a whole Laughing Gulag of Ticklish Naked Prisoners! With a special appearance by Major Hank Hansom, Space Adventurer!!! And some truly Dangerous non-consensual F/M tickling thrown in at the end)

1) Our Little Ruse

She walks into my office, nervous about this interview. Black business attire, skirt a little too short shows off her stockinged legs....gorgeous legs....

"Take a seat" I say, gesturing towards the chair before my big oak desk. Very prim, very proper, very demure; she settles into the chair, and secures her feet into the two Stock-holes in the front of my big oak desk. I begin tickling her feet, in secret, hidden inside my desk...hidden from the cameras overhead...

"So" I begin, as she begins to squirm a little, "You have previous Prison Camp experience?"

"Y-y-yes" she replies, struggling not to giggle, straining to keep a straight face as I rake her Hyper-Nylon-enhances soles (the material enhances sensations of course...)

I leaf through her resume with my two "business" arms, all attention focused on what my real hands are doing to her soles, her little toes, her smooth shapely legs....

She reaches into the glass bowl on my desk, on every executive desk nowadays, takes the courtesy gag from it's antibacterial solution, and fastens it over her mouth. Now she can laugh and scream out loud to her hearts content, and no one outside this room will be any the wiser.

"And you have Torture experience?" I continue. "Mmph MMph!!" she nods. tears forming as she strains against the sensation of what I'm doing to her.

"Sorry, 'Interrogation' is the more PC word. Please excuse my insensitivity" She nods again, speechless.

I flash pictures on my wall-screen, legions of imprisoned, naked women and men, howling with laughter as they're tickled en-masse by Dominatrix guards...

"And you feel you're qualified for an administrative position in a State Behavioral Center?" That's Slug-Speak for Gulag... "Responsibilities.." I tickle her calf and she loves it..."will include..." found the kneecap!! Like a bomb going off for her..."the well-being and rehab..." I'm really working her over now..."of literally HUNDREDS of naked..." she's writhing at my touch..."helpless..." writhing, screaming inside her gag, her knees must be unbearably ticklish even without the Hyper-Nylons..."errant young females, and a few males." I ease up, and just walk my fingertips tauntingly over her legs, re-tracing my path of destruction so she's REALLY nervous- any slight slip on my part and she'll be howling with laughter again....

This goes on for about an hour...."OK, I find you well-suited to the job of tickle-torturing thousands of helpless naked people for hours on end. Come back tomorrow for another interview." I release her finally. She stands up, almost breathless. She can't help giving me a BIG smile and a wink on her way out the door, as the next young pretty Interviewee sashays in wearing a slinky red dress for her umpteenth "job interview" at my very special desk...

The Slugs took over. We let them take over, it's better this way. See, the Slug Empire hasn't been too bright in the brain department these past few years, and the Strategic Committee (of which I am a member) needs to find out who their hired mercenaries are; they're the real threat, not these dunderheaded Slug-bureaucrats who can be fooled by simple desk-camoflauge.

We've got the whole planet rigged now, to pull the wool over our new "Master's" eyestalks; Gulags full of naked women and men, countless well-documented daily "interrogation" sessions of hapless dissidents who ENJOY the various ticklish torments (not just tickling, we do ice, whips, wax, and numerous other things too)

All to appear as an Authoritarian State; all to generate FORESTS of paperwork to keep the Slug-Bureaucrats so busy they can't bother to notice the small details, like the fact that THIS ENTIRE PLANET is having a BLAST at this new game we play. Instead of tickling each other out in the open, we hide it now (barely) under guise of cubicles and desks, suits and uniforms, slave-factories and prison-camps... (I can tell you a story or two about those "slave-factories" hoo boy!)

This "Human Resource" position, where I tickle endless pairs of female legs all day long at the office, is just a front. The real purpose is so I can deliver my reams of annotated job interviews and other paperwork personally to the "Authoritarian Slug Service Executive Ship" (figure that one out) in high orbit, via the clunky old Carbon Nanotube space-elevator, with the hope of inching ever closer to the identity of their Hired Mercenary.

Well, today's the day! Ozzy (my devil-girl friend and long-time tormentor before this invasion) and me wind our way through the slimy corridors of the Great Bland Vessel, slipping from time to time on bureaucrats' slime-trails, towards the office of the Slug's secret hired Merc. How did I find him or her you ask? Well, it's an old trick i was taught by my mentor in a previous life of espionage...

...No time now, he's here, behind this door. I walk in, presenting a stack of notes for the Special Administrative Personnell Slug, and the merc turns to face me, levelling a G-41 personal Death Cannon right at my face.

"Oh.." I say, startled to see the gun, "Sorry, I must have the wrong office." Ozzy fumbles like a tourist with an actual PAPER MAP of the starship's office levels...

The grizzly Merc chuckles, lowers the gun just a bit, and clicks off the monitor on his laptop to hide any incriminating info, just in case. He's good, I can tell that at a glance.

I sieze my opportunity, drop the notes all over the floor, playing the clumsy doofus (A role I played for real before my "grace implants" took effect) He chuckles some more, and in the clutter and confusion, I rise up pointing an old fashioned "Elbow Gun" in his face! (It's called an Elbow Gun cause your prosthetic elbow bends back the wrong way revealing the barrel of the weapon) a silly, archaic, 60s-TV-show contraption, so dorky looking no one would be caught dead using them anymore- and that's why it works!

"Freeze" I command. And then "Gotcha!"

I look the Mercenary in the eye, and recognition dawns on me. I quickly toss a holo-grenade and yell "Geek!" before the puff of dust, and voila! he's turned into a fat, dumpy little computer nerd, with ponytail and glasses, all his pheromones masked; in his true form he'd likely seduce my sidekick with his charms.

"Where did you learn THAT trick?" Ozzy asks me, with evident admiration.

"Maybe you can tickle the answers out of me later" I say, a twinkle in my eye. But she's in earnest now. "I learned it" I say "from HIM!"

"Do I know you, little man?" The Merc asks.

"Ozzy" I say, gesturing towards our enemy "Meet my cousin and former mentor, Major Hank Hansom!!!"



2) Major Hank Hansom's BIG Ruse

"So you mean to tell me" I say, after about 20 minutes of Hank Hansom's spiel, "that you've been 'Dumbing-Down" the entire Slug hierarchy for years? With Reeses Pieces???"

"That's about the gist of it" he replies, no longer looking like Dilbert plus 100 pounds, but still pheromone-blocked. Standing before me is my cousin, the one-and-only Major Hank Hansom, Space Adventurer in his true form. Even without the enhanced pheromones, I can see that Ozzy wants to get her claws on him...but he doesn't go for all that tickling and fetishy stuff....

"I spiked their candy with 'Dumbers', they've gotten stupider and stupider every year. That's why I picked a planet like yours to invade..."

"YOU picked our planet?" Ozzy and I say aghast in unison.

"Now hold yer horses a sec, has anyone been hurt? Has anyone been killed, apart from some automata? Has there been even one 'live' casualty in this whole clusterf-k?"

He had a point there...

"I knew you weirdos were just loopy enough to pull the exact stunt you pulled- letting us 'succeed' in conquering you just so you could pull the wool over our eyes. I'm not stupid, you know- I don't eat the Reese's Pieces here..."

He paused for a moment... "And what's with all that tickling anyway? Don't you people ever get tired? Don't you ever just want something....normal? Wait, don't answer that."

By now my arm was back in one piece and we all sat around his glass coffee table, looking out into space thru his big picture window, at a gorgeous view of my adopted home planet below.

"Only thing that suprised me so far" he continued "was finding YOU here."

"So I've gone native" I interject. "So what's the plan, then?"

"Oh, I won't tell you the WHOLE plan; suffice to say, your little planet's gonna ensure a long and prosperous reign for the glorious Slug Bureaucracy forever, if I have my way."

"Huh?" Ozzy and I exclaimed in unison, nearly drawing our weapons.

"Now sit down, hear me out. This Slug thing's rotten to the core, I know that, and i hate it too. But think about it for a sec; it's the repository for All-That-is-Evil in the known universe, and it's been running amok, spreading its papers and forms and pen-pushing dolts all across the galaxy. But it's also totally incompetent. Suppose we destroy it? Something SMARTER'll step in to take its place. And we're all better off with this nuisance than with a real threat."

I was beginning to see his point, curse him!

"Better a stupid enemy than a smart enemy any day!"

"So we're stuck with the Slugs forever?" I ask.

"Not at all. Here's the beauty of it; your planet's just a staging area for the next invasion! "Fred's Foot-Fetish and Sandal World's" the next target, folks just as twisted as you people; only they have the heads-up from monitoring what you're doing here, pretending to be enslaved and all. Pretty soon all there attention span'll be focused on 'Footsie Planet' and you lunatics can all go back to...whatever it was you did before."

Had to admit it was brilliant.

Well, we left him with an agreement to follow his overall plan....

But Ozzy had other ideas.....

We got back home, I was late to the office for my first impatient interviewee, when I fell through a trap door into "Hell", a simulated inferno like the one Ozzy calls home.

"Not now, Ozzy" I think, and I'm about to say it when I hear extremely pained laughs mingled with screams coming from behind a huge stalagmite. I rush around it to find Major Hank Hansom chained and nearly naked, writhing in terror and torment at the tickling claws of Devil-Girl Ozzy!

"Ozzy, NO!!" I scream, but too late- she has an "Hourglass", a device which screws with the rate of time- Major Hank has been here for hours already, WEEKS at her tender mercies...but he's UNWILLING! He doesn't share the fetish! This is REAL TORTURE for him, and he's almost lost his mind, and we need him to deal with the slugs, and Ozzy...Ozzy....she's coming over and over again like she can't stop it, and tickling him for all she's worth...why won't she stop???
OF COURSE! THE HYPER- PHEROMONES, she can't resist!!!

Ozzy, you've doomed us all!!!!!

NEXT CHAPTER: HUGE MONKEYWRENCH THROWN INTO THE PLAN

 

[Xtreme09]

Keep going man you're doing an excellent job with this story! 🙂

 

[Cosmo_ac1]

any idea when the next part will be up? I rather enjoy this series.

 

[Breygon]

will this story ever be continued/concluded?

 

[scottirish]

Don't knock your writing! You're contributing great fantasy. My preference is for the FFFFF/mmmm stuff, but this is good! Thank you for posting, as always.