Yet_One_More_Idiot
2nd Level Orange Feather
- Joined
- Jun 30, 2004
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F Solo? Yes, I decided to write a solo tickling chapter. 🙂
in association with
Scotty Boyo-PPGTKL Productions
is proud to present
The Powerpuff Girls
in
Laughter in Townsville:
Tickled Pink, Green and Blue
Chapter 2: Fun and games before bed - Bubbles
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Bubbles just sat there on her bed for a moment or two, deep in thought about what exactly she was going to write for today's daily entry, and settled her breathing after all the unexpected exertion she had just had. She was sitting cross-legged in the middle of her bed in the lotus position, her right foot still bare from her meal-time encounter with her sister's hands, with her diary open to a fresh blank page in front of her and a spare pair of Mary Janes placed neatly to her side.
Bubbles chewed on her pen quietly as she listened to sounds coming from the kitchen of the Professor telling Buttercup off, and Blossom actually for once standing up for the impetuous girl; after all, Blossom had been partially to blame herself, so she was making herself feel less guilty by trying to get Buttercup off the hook. Finally, everything downstairs quietened down and the sound of the television being turned on could be heard, so Bubbles tuned out all the noise and started writing in her diary.
Dear Diary,
Today's been another great day! I drew loads of pictures of cute 'n furry animals, in art class, then I had to sit through a math lesson (what is the point of math, anyway? Especially algebra, which we've just started; all those x's and y's - we're never gonna use that stuff in real life, are we?). Then we had lunch, and I beat Blossom AND Buttercup at dodge-ball when Buttercup tripped and slammed into Blossom - it looked like it maybe hurt them a little (not really), but it gave me a clear shot at both of them to win the game. HAHA! That'll teach 'em to gang up on me. 🙂
Then we'd just started afternoon lessons - my second favourite of all lessons, Drama, when the hotline called; Blossom answered it, as usual (doesn't she always?), and we found out it was a putty monster - the hard way; we ended up getting stuck for a little while. So while Blossom was going of about one of her comli copl difficult plans, Buttercup grabbed her from behind and squeezed so she blew ice breath at the monster and then we smashed it with a few quick punches and kicks to the chest. And then she goes and says that that's what she wanted us to do all along! The cheek! 🙁
So then we get back home and wash up, and Daddy made my favourite for dinner - broccoli pie! Yummy; but I don't think Blossom and Buttercup liked it, 'cos Blossom was pulling faces the whole time and Buttercup kept flinging bits out the window when she thought I wasn't looking. O well...
And then they decided to get me back for me having such a good day by grabbing my leg and tickling me all over my foot - they're mean; they KNOW how ticklish I am, and that we'd've all gotten in trouble if the Professor had caught us playing around at the dinner table. Luckily, he was too busy scarfing down his double chocolate choc-chip ice cream to notice that I couldn't stop laughing the whole time; I'm sure some of my ice cream ended up on the table from laughing so much. At least Buttercup got in trouble for spilling her milk - well, I spilt it as I escaped, but she deserved it. 🙂
Funny thing is, even though I didn't want them to do that to me, it felt kinda nice, the laughing and the gentle way they tickled my foot - well, at least until they decided to pull out all the stops. I wonder what it feels like to tickle yourself...?
At this point, Bubbles put down her pen and thought about what she'd just written. As she did so, she suddenly heard loud, completely unrestrained laughter issuing forth from downstairs. Her super-hearing pinned it down to the couch in the lounge, and the pitch of the laughter clearly told her that Buttercup was the one laughing; a few minutes later, a slightly higher-pitched voice joined her in this uproarious laughter; obviously Blossom. Probably the two of them were having another one of their semi-regular tickle contests/fights. The Professor, Bubbles thought, was most likely down in his lab which, due to the constant pandemonium in the house these days whenever the girls were indoors and awake, he had had specially soundproofed.
Bubbles felt safe up here in her room, with their father busy and her sisters otherwise engaged downstairs, but just to be on the safe side, she also closed and locked her bedroom door, for absolute privacy while she tried a little experiment.
Bubbles quickly flew under her bed and pulled out a large, fairly ordinary-looking book and dropped it on top of her blankets before sitting back down in her previous lotus position, one foot still bare. Then she opened this new book to reveal a large assortment of different feathers.
For a years now, Bubbles had been fascinated with the differences between how birds flew and how she and her sisters flew, including how feathers have an effect on a bird's ability to fly. Therefore, whenever she could, she would take a single feather from a bird (always being careful not to remove a vital flight feather), so that she could examine them in the comfort of her own home and marvel at their natural beauty. Now though, she was going to put these feathers to a different use.
She quickly selected a short-ish brown feather with small white spots on it, which had probably previously belonged to an owl of some kind (the feathers were labelled by the type of bird, but the ink had smeared in the intense heat of the intervening summers. All she could make out was '...Owl...'). Then, she held the feather poised over her bare right foot, splayed her toes wide, closed her eyes, took a deep relaxing breath, and then stroked the feather gently from heel to between her big and second toes.
The sensation that she experienced from this simple reaction was nothing like she had expected it to be - what she had expected was the same almost irresistible urge to laugh and squirm as she had felt downstairs when Blossom and Buttercup had tickled her, and all those other times before, too. Instead, all she felt was a light tingling on her sole and a distinct need to scratch an itch.
"Oh pooh!" she exclaimed. Bubbles had been hoping to be able to tickle herself - then she would be able to experience all the joy and the laughter of being tickled without having to trust blindly that the person tickling wouldn't take it too far. "Blossom was right again; I can't tickle myself. But what if...?"
As Bubbles thought hard on ways around this problem, she didn't pay any attention to the fact that she was still absent-mindedly stroking the feather up and down her foot, and had in fact now progressed to drawing figure eight's across her sole repeatedly, interspersed with equally light feather-caresses of her flexed arch. As her train of thought began to wander still more, her toes began to wriggle as if of their own accord, which was actually the case.
Very soon, her breathing started to become louder and more pronounced as the tingling sensation graduated to an actual tickling feeling on the sole of her foot. Her foot, and indeed her whole leg began to twitch as it was in an awkward position for such sudden movements. Still, Bubbles was trying to think of ways in which she might be able to tickle herself, but now not only could she not think of anything that would work, but she found that there were some very distracting feelings shooting up her body from her still trapped and tickled right foot. She looked down and her eyes widened in surprised at what she saw.
It was like something out of a science-fiction movie, or possibly horror instead. Her left arm had taken on a life of its' own and was quite animatedly stroking the feather up and down her foot, which couldn't escape the torture, but not for lack of trying. Her foot was squirming all over the place, stuck as it was resting on her left thigh, and her toes wouldn't stop wiggling around, trying to evade the feather and at the same time push it and the tickling sensations away. Her gentle, relaxed breathing had by now become breathless gasping as she tried to suck in enough oxygen to stop herself fainting, and the occasional giggle was beginning to slip out in between pants for air.
"I....I don't....belieeeeeve it....hehe.....I'm actu......ally ticklihihihing myself....hahaha...But how?...heeheehee....this is supposed to be.....haahaa...impossihihihible."
Clearly though, it wasn't impossible, as the feelings shooting from her foot to her brain, accompanied by the laughter that was issuing from her, testified. Strangely, her left arm felt numb, as though she had been sleeping on it overnight, and the circulation was cut off. It seemed quite reasonable to Bubbles to assume that it was in fact being controlled by her subconscious mind, which wished to explore tickling more fully without having to rely on another person. Or rather, it would have, if Bubbles had been able to sting together a coherent thought at this point. In fact though, all Bubbles was able to do was giggle sweetly as the stroking of her sole and toes continued.
(A/N: No, she's not being mind-controlled by Him or anyone else. If you could tickle yourself without your conscious mind knowing exactly what's going on, this could happen. couldn't it?)
While all this was going on, her right arm had been hanging by her side, gradually growing more numb as well since all the air Bubbles could breathe in was going into keeping her from fainting of exhaustion. What she didn't realise through her continuous giggling fit was that the fingers of this hand suddenly came to life, and then snuck across her stomach and into her left armpit before she could do anything to stop it. Not that there was actually anything she could do anyway, of course.
"Nooooohohohoho, what's going on, what......heeheehee....what do you think hahaha you're hahahaha dohohohohoing? No, pleeeeeease stohohohohohop thahahahat......no, oh noooo please please please not.....eeee! Not my armpit! Plehehehehease, not there nonononoooooooOOOOO HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA OGOD OGOD OGOD OGOD OOOOOHAHAHAHAAHA.......I CAN'T......CAHAHAHAN'T STAHAAHAHAHAND IHIHIHIHIT.......HEHEHEHEHEHE!"
Indeed, it seemed that Bubbles very possibly couldn't stand it. The ferocity of the initial attacked by her self-animated right arm on her left armpit was such that she somehow managed to unfold her legs, but of course you can't run away from your arms any more than you can escape your shadow (though at least with your shadow you can turn a light on), and try as she might, Bubbles' twisting and turning - she was very flexible and agile, being an above average ballroom dancer - did nothing to help her, as her hands always found her vulnerable spots. She tried curling herself tight into a ball to protect against her tickling hands (they were in fact a little more vicious at tickling her than Blossom or Buttercup would be, but she still felt she could better trust her own hands than somebody else's), but her left hand managed to squeeze into the ball and started stroking around her stomach before delving into her belly button, which elicited many delighted/tortured squeals of enjoyment/defeat and caused her to arch back as far she could - in the process, causing her remaining shoe, which was already loose, to come flying off and fall to the floor on the far side of the room - so that her heels were resting against the back of her own head, while her right hand slid down her ribcage (counting each individual rib as it went, which also tickled her more than she'd previously thought possible), and then moved on down to go behind her knee, causing her leg to bend even tighter back on itself in an effort to push the fingers away, and her feet to press ever harder against the back of her head, her toes curled tight and her feet rubbing against her hair, producing yet more tickly feelings in her soles, even though both hands were tickling elsewhere on her tender body.
She was delirious with laughter and unable to protect herself from all the tickling going on; moreover, she could no longer even tell well she was being tickled, as the sensations seemed to linger in that way they do so that it felt like many more than just her own two hands were now tickling her all over her body.
And, logically, she had no attacker to plead to for mercy, as she was in fact tickle-attacking herself, and very effectively at that. Finally, the tickling was taking such a toll on her that her vision began to blur, first with tears of laughter and then from drowsiness caused by lack of air. Her robust laughter was being forced out at such a rate now that it morphed into the silent laughter of a victim who is almost spent, and she almost totally stopped wriggling and squirming, trying to evade what was happening, and just gave in completely.
"HAHAHAHAHAHA....HEHEHEHEHE, THAT TICKLESSSSS......TOOOHOHOHOHO TICKLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISH........HEEHEEHEEHEEHEE.......HAAAAAAHAAAAAHAAAAA.....*giggle*......*gasp*.......*pant, pant*....."
As both hands zeroed in once more on her feet, arguably her most ticklish spot of all (at least from her sisters' point of view, and they had proven their debate many times, so they should know what they were talking about), which were now hopelessly tangled in her long (and now loose) blond and surprisingly effective as a tickle weapon hair, something in her mind said "OK, enough is enough" and stopped.
Bubbles, however, took another 6 minutes before her laughter completely died away.
Once she had regained full control of her body (and spent about 20 minutes untangling her hair from around her feet), she sat back up and started writing in her diary once more:
Dear Diary,
I just had the most amazing experience! I tried to tickle myself, which smartypants Miss Blossom said is impossible to do, but while I was thinking of a way to do it and make it actually tickle me, my hand started tickling me of its own accord! It was wonderful - I've never laughed so hard in my life (even when my sister's tickle me) and I never enjoyed it as much before either.
But all this has done is make me obssessed with being tickled - I don't get enough time on my own during the day to do this sort of thing without Blossom or Buttercup butting in (haha- Buttercup butting in - maybe that should be Buttercup BUTTercupING in... J).
I know! I could do it at night - but I'd have to be careful about waking the others. What I really need is somewhere they couldn't hear me....likethedangergrid! Of course - that's it! And then I wouldn't need to tickle myself either, I could program a simulation to tickle me. I need to start making plans for tonight, after the others are asleep....
Gotta go now, I can hear Blossom and Buttercup coming upstairs; one of them might see you and decide to nose around in my private thoughts....
Love, Bubbles XXX
Hope you all like it, next chapter in another couple of days. After all, what were Blossom and Buttercup getting up do during this chapter...? 😀
Hairy Gregory Studios
in association with
Scotty Boyo-PPGTKL Productions
is proud to present
The Powerpuff Girls
in
Laughter in Townsville:
Tickled Pink, Green and Blue
Chapter 2: Fun and games before bed - Bubbles
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Bubbles just sat there on her bed for a moment or two, deep in thought about what exactly she was going to write for today's daily entry, and settled her breathing after all the unexpected exertion she had just had. She was sitting cross-legged in the middle of her bed in the lotus position, her right foot still bare from her meal-time encounter with her sister's hands, with her diary open to a fresh blank page in front of her and a spare pair of Mary Janes placed neatly to her side.
Bubbles chewed on her pen quietly as she listened to sounds coming from the kitchen of the Professor telling Buttercup off, and Blossom actually for once standing up for the impetuous girl; after all, Blossom had been partially to blame herself, so she was making herself feel less guilty by trying to get Buttercup off the hook. Finally, everything downstairs quietened down and the sound of the television being turned on could be heard, so Bubbles tuned out all the noise and started writing in her diary.
Dear Diary,
Today's been another great day! I drew loads of pictures of cute 'n furry animals, in art class, then I had to sit through a math lesson (what is the point of math, anyway? Especially algebra, which we've just started; all those x's and y's - we're never gonna use that stuff in real life, are we?). Then we had lunch, and I beat Blossom AND Buttercup at dodge-ball when Buttercup tripped and slammed into Blossom - it looked like it maybe hurt them a little (not really), but it gave me a clear shot at both of them to win the game. HAHA! That'll teach 'em to gang up on me. 🙂
Then we'd just started afternoon lessons - my second favourite of all lessons, Drama, when the hotline called; Blossom answered it, as usual (doesn't she always?), and we found out it was a putty monster - the hard way; we ended up getting stuck for a little while. So while Blossom was going of about one of her comli copl difficult plans, Buttercup grabbed her from behind and squeezed so she blew ice breath at the monster and then we smashed it with a few quick punches and kicks to the chest. And then she goes and says that that's what she wanted us to do all along! The cheek! 🙁
So then we get back home and wash up, and Daddy made my favourite for dinner - broccoli pie! Yummy; but I don't think Blossom and Buttercup liked it, 'cos Blossom was pulling faces the whole time and Buttercup kept flinging bits out the window when she thought I wasn't looking. O well...
And then they decided to get me back for me having such a good day by grabbing my leg and tickling me all over my foot - they're mean; they KNOW how ticklish I am, and that we'd've all gotten in trouble if the Professor had caught us playing around at the dinner table. Luckily, he was too busy scarfing down his double chocolate choc-chip ice cream to notice that I couldn't stop laughing the whole time; I'm sure some of my ice cream ended up on the table from laughing so much. At least Buttercup got in trouble for spilling her milk - well, I spilt it as I escaped, but she deserved it. 🙂
Funny thing is, even though I didn't want them to do that to me, it felt kinda nice, the laughing and the gentle way they tickled my foot - well, at least until they decided to pull out all the stops. I wonder what it feels like to tickle yourself...?
At this point, Bubbles put down her pen and thought about what she'd just written. As she did so, she suddenly heard loud, completely unrestrained laughter issuing forth from downstairs. Her super-hearing pinned it down to the couch in the lounge, and the pitch of the laughter clearly told her that Buttercup was the one laughing; a few minutes later, a slightly higher-pitched voice joined her in this uproarious laughter; obviously Blossom. Probably the two of them were having another one of their semi-regular tickle contests/fights. The Professor, Bubbles thought, was most likely down in his lab which, due to the constant pandemonium in the house these days whenever the girls were indoors and awake, he had had specially soundproofed.
Bubbles felt safe up here in her room, with their father busy and her sisters otherwise engaged downstairs, but just to be on the safe side, she also closed and locked her bedroom door, for absolute privacy while she tried a little experiment.
Bubbles quickly flew under her bed and pulled out a large, fairly ordinary-looking book and dropped it on top of her blankets before sitting back down in her previous lotus position, one foot still bare. Then she opened this new book to reveal a large assortment of different feathers.
For a years now, Bubbles had been fascinated with the differences between how birds flew and how she and her sisters flew, including how feathers have an effect on a bird's ability to fly. Therefore, whenever she could, she would take a single feather from a bird (always being careful not to remove a vital flight feather), so that she could examine them in the comfort of her own home and marvel at their natural beauty. Now though, she was going to put these feathers to a different use.
She quickly selected a short-ish brown feather with small white spots on it, which had probably previously belonged to an owl of some kind (the feathers were labelled by the type of bird, but the ink had smeared in the intense heat of the intervening summers. All she could make out was '...Owl...'). Then, she held the feather poised over her bare right foot, splayed her toes wide, closed her eyes, took a deep relaxing breath, and then stroked the feather gently from heel to between her big and second toes.
The sensation that she experienced from this simple reaction was nothing like she had expected it to be - what she had expected was the same almost irresistible urge to laugh and squirm as she had felt downstairs when Blossom and Buttercup had tickled her, and all those other times before, too. Instead, all she felt was a light tingling on her sole and a distinct need to scratch an itch.
"Oh pooh!" she exclaimed. Bubbles had been hoping to be able to tickle herself - then she would be able to experience all the joy and the laughter of being tickled without having to trust blindly that the person tickling wouldn't take it too far. "Blossom was right again; I can't tickle myself. But what if...?"
As Bubbles thought hard on ways around this problem, she didn't pay any attention to the fact that she was still absent-mindedly stroking the feather up and down her foot, and had in fact now progressed to drawing figure eight's across her sole repeatedly, interspersed with equally light feather-caresses of her flexed arch. As her train of thought began to wander still more, her toes began to wriggle as if of their own accord, which was actually the case.
Very soon, her breathing started to become louder and more pronounced as the tingling sensation graduated to an actual tickling feeling on the sole of her foot. Her foot, and indeed her whole leg began to twitch as it was in an awkward position for such sudden movements. Still, Bubbles was trying to think of ways in which she might be able to tickle herself, but now not only could she not think of anything that would work, but she found that there were some very distracting feelings shooting up her body from her still trapped and tickled right foot. She looked down and her eyes widened in surprised at what she saw.
It was like something out of a science-fiction movie, or possibly horror instead. Her left arm had taken on a life of its' own and was quite animatedly stroking the feather up and down her foot, which couldn't escape the torture, but not for lack of trying. Her foot was squirming all over the place, stuck as it was resting on her left thigh, and her toes wouldn't stop wiggling around, trying to evade the feather and at the same time push it and the tickling sensations away. Her gentle, relaxed breathing had by now become breathless gasping as she tried to suck in enough oxygen to stop herself fainting, and the occasional giggle was beginning to slip out in between pants for air.
"I....I don't....belieeeeeve it....hehe.....I'm actu......ally ticklihihihing myself....hahaha...But how?...heeheehee....this is supposed to be.....haahaa...impossihihihible."
Clearly though, it wasn't impossible, as the feelings shooting from her foot to her brain, accompanied by the laughter that was issuing from her, testified. Strangely, her left arm felt numb, as though she had been sleeping on it overnight, and the circulation was cut off. It seemed quite reasonable to Bubbles to assume that it was in fact being controlled by her subconscious mind, which wished to explore tickling more fully without having to rely on another person. Or rather, it would have, if Bubbles had been able to sting together a coherent thought at this point. In fact though, all Bubbles was able to do was giggle sweetly as the stroking of her sole and toes continued.
(A/N: No, she's not being mind-controlled by Him or anyone else. If you could tickle yourself without your conscious mind knowing exactly what's going on, this could happen. couldn't it?)
While all this was going on, her right arm had been hanging by her side, gradually growing more numb as well since all the air Bubbles could breathe in was going into keeping her from fainting of exhaustion. What she didn't realise through her continuous giggling fit was that the fingers of this hand suddenly came to life, and then snuck across her stomach and into her left armpit before she could do anything to stop it. Not that there was actually anything she could do anyway, of course.
"Nooooohohohoho, what's going on, what......heeheehee....what do you think hahaha you're hahahaha dohohohohoing? No, pleeeeeease stohohohohohop thahahahat......no, oh noooo please please please not.....eeee! Not my armpit! Plehehehehease, not there nonononoooooooOOOOO HAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA OGOD OGOD OGOD OGOD OOOOOHAHAHAHAAHA.......I CAN'T......CAHAHAHAN'T STAHAAHAHAHAND IHIHIHIHIT.......HEHEHEHEHEHE!"
Indeed, it seemed that Bubbles very possibly couldn't stand it. The ferocity of the initial attacked by her self-animated right arm on her left armpit was such that she somehow managed to unfold her legs, but of course you can't run away from your arms any more than you can escape your shadow (though at least with your shadow you can turn a light on), and try as she might, Bubbles' twisting and turning - she was very flexible and agile, being an above average ballroom dancer - did nothing to help her, as her hands always found her vulnerable spots. She tried curling herself tight into a ball to protect against her tickling hands (they were in fact a little more vicious at tickling her than Blossom or Buttercup would be, but she still felt she could better trust her own hands than somebody else's), but her left hand managed to squeeze into the ball and started stroking around her stomach before delving into her belly button, which elicited many delighted/tortured squeals of enjoyment/defeat and caused her to arch back as far she could - in the process, causing her remaining shoe, which was already loose, to come flying off and fall to the floor on the far side of the room - so that her heels were resting against the back of her own head, while her right hand slid down her ribcage (counting each individual rib as it went, which also tickled her more than she'd previously thought possible), and then moved on down to go behind her knee, causing her leg to bend even tighter back on itself in an effort to push the fingers away, and her feet to press ever harder against the back of her head, her toes curled tight and her feet rubbing against her hair, producing yet more tickly feelings in her soles, even though both hands were tickling elsewhere on her tender body.
She was delirious with laughter and unable to protect herself from all the tickling going on; moreover, she could no longer even tell well she was being tickled, as the sensations seemed to linger in that way they do so that it felt like many more than just her own two hands were now tickling her all over her body.
And, logically, she had no attacker to plead to for mercy, as she was in fact tickle-attacking herself, and very effectively at that. Finally, the tickling was taking such a toll on her that her vision began to blur, first with tears of laughter and then from drowsiness caused by lack of air. Her robust laughter was being forced out at such a rate now that it morphed into the silent laughter of a victim who is almost spent, and she almost totally stopped wriggling and squirming, trying to evade what was happening, and just gave in completely.
"HAHAHAHAHAHA....HEHEHEHEHE, THAT TICKLESSSSS......TOOOHOHOHOHO TICKLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISH........HEEHEEHEEHEEHEE.......HAAAAAAHAAAAAHAAAAA.....*giggle*......*gasp*.......*pant, pant*....."
As both hands zeroed in once more on her feet, arguably her most ticklish spot of all (at least from her sisters' point of view, and they had proven their debate many times, so they should know what they were talking about), which were now hopelessly tangled in her long (and now loose) blond and surprisingly effective as a tickle weapon hair, something in her mind said "OK, enough is enough" and stopped.
Bubbles, however, took another 6 minutes before her laughter completely died away.
Once she had regained full control of her body (and spent about 20 minutes untangling her hair from around her feet), she sat back up and started writing in her diary once more:
Dear Diary,
I just had the most amazing experience! I tried to tickle myself, which smartypants Miss Blossom said is impossible to do, but while I was thinking of a way to do it and make it actually tickle me, my hand started tickling me of its own accord! It was wonderful - I've never laughed so hard in my life (even when my sister's tickle me) and I never enjoyed it as much before either.
But all this has done is make me obssessed with being tickled - I don't get enough time on my own during the day to do this sort of thing without Blossom or Buttercup butting in (haha- Buttercup butting in - maybe that should be Buttercup BUTTercupING in... J).
I know! I could do it at night - but I'd have to be careful about waking the others. What I really need is somewhere they couldn't hear me....likethedangergrid! Of course - that's it! And then I wouldn't need to tickle myself either, I could program a simulation to tickle me. I need to start making plans for tonight, after the others are asleep....
Gotta go now, I can hear Blossom and Buttercup coming upstairs; one of them might see you and decide to nose around in my private thoughts....
Love, Bubbles XXX
Hope you all like it, next chapter in another couple of days. After all, what were Blossom and Buttercup getting up do during this chapter...? 😀
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