LivMorgan_is_Ticklish
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- Feb 24, 2025
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Quenny roamed anxiously around the house, searching for Weiling. She needed to warn her friend to leave immediately—the fear of another tickle attack weighed heavily on her mind. After checking several rooms without success, she returned to where Novita was and asked, "Have you seen Weiling?"
Novita replied, "She's in the backyard."
With a sense of dread building in her chest, Quenny hurried through the house and pushed open the back door. Before she even stepped outside, she heard hysterical laughter echoing across the yard. The sound made her pulse quicken.
There, sprawled on the grass, was Weiling, laughing uncontrollably, her body thrashing like a fish out of water. Standing over her was a mysterious figure in a hoodie, the hood pulled low to obscure their face. The stranger had their arm wrapped around Weiling's ankle with their fingers tickling her feet.
"HEY, STOP!" Quenny shouted, breaking into a sprint across the lawn.
But she wasn't fast enough. At the sound of her voice, the hooded figure immediately released Weiling's leg and darted away, disappearing over the fence with surprising agility.
Quenny reached her friend, who lay gasping for breath, tears of laughter still streaming down her flushed face.
"Who was that?" Quenny asked Weiling.
"He was hiding somewhere as I was decorating. Then he just jumped out from near that fence," Weiling pointed at the corner of the backyard. "And then he tackled me to the ground and tickled me!"
"This is getting bizarre. I need to talk to Novita. Let's go," Quenny commanded, gesturing for Weiling to follow her while she addressed the situation with Novita.
After the explanation, Novita said, "That's strange because I saw a hooded figure opposite my house several times last week, but I didn't think much of it since he never looked in my direction." Novita's face clearly showed concern about the hooded stranger, but she brushed it off and apologized to Weiling for the incident. Weiling assured her it wasn't her fault, thanked her, and left the house with Quenny.
As Quenny approached her car, she felt a sudden jab at her sides. "AH!" she yelped, clamping her elbows to her sides. She whirled around and saw a stranger retracting his arms from her sides with a mischievous grin.
"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU? GET AWAY FROM ME!" Quenny bellowed, her frustration palpable. The stranger merely smirked before darting away.
Still scowling, Quenny told Weiling that this was getting out of hand, what an absurd day it had been. Weiling chuckled in acknowledgment as they both climbed into the car. Minutes after driving away from Novita's house, Weiling mentioned she wanted to purchase something at the nearby mall. Quenny initially refused, insisting they needed to return to work, but after Weiling's persistent pleas and promises of brevity, Quenny reluctantly comply, changing course toward the mall.
Upon arriving at the mall's parking lot, they exited the vehicle and headed toward the entrance. As they walked, Quenny overheard a child a short distance away exclaiming, "Look at that clown! She looks so weird!" Quenny's eyes widened in horror, she had forgotten to remove her face paint and costume from the birthday party. Mortified, they hastened their pace toward the mall so Quenny could find a restroom and wash off the makeup.
Once inside, she scanned the area for a restroom sign. As she searched, she felt a cold hand touch her neck, causing her to instinctively fold her neck to the side, trapping the hand as she crumpled to the floor in a fit of giggles. The cold hand remained for about eight seconds before she managed to escape. She turned around to confront whoever had touched her while still clutching her neck protectively.
"Oh, you're ticklish on your neck. That's adorable," remarked a stranger standing before Quenny. Too unsettled to respond, she rose to her feet and backed away cautiously. Maintaining eye contact with the stranger, she said to Weiling, "What is wrong with everyone today? This is becoming increasingly bizarre. Let's hurry and find whatever you're looking for while I search for the restroom, okay?"
"Are you certain you'll be alright?" Weiling asked, her voice tinged with concern.
"Yes, I think so. I just want to leave this place quickly. Please hurry and find what you need. We'll reconvene in the car!" Quenny instructed. They parted ways after Weiling's acknowledgement.
As Quenny wandered in search of a restroom sign, she noticed numerous people staring in her direction. She assumed it was because of her clown makeup, but strangely, some began to walk toward her at a measured pace after she passed them. Increasingly unnerved, she quickened her steps as she searched for the restroom. Finally, she spotted a sign hanging from the ceiling with an arrow pointing to the right.
As she turned in that direction, a firm grip suddenly seized her wrist. She whipped around, startled, only to find a woman in her fifties clutching her arm with an unsettling smile. "Seems like we need to cheer you up," the woman murmured ominously.
Before Quenny could react, another set of hands latched onto her free wrist, yanking her arms apart into a rigid T-position. A surge of panic shot through her chest. "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!" she shouted, her voice laced with bewilderment and fear.
And then—it began.
A strange, bubbling sensation welled up in her throat, overwhelming her with an uncontrollable urge to laugh.
"PLEASE, LET ME GAHAHAHAHAHA!" Quenny's defiance crumbled into pure hysteria the instant she felt fingers digging into her sides. Her body spasmed as if struck by lightning, her legs giving way beneath her. She crumpled onto the floor, her arms still held hostage, her laughter spiraling into a breathless, desperate frenzy.
Her face lit up in an involuntary, wide-mouthed grin, her cheeks reddening as the merciless squeezing continued. The sensation was unbearable—each relentless knead against her sensitive waist sent electrifying jolts of ticklish agony through her nerves. Her muscles twitched violently, her back arching as she fought to twist away. But her tormentors were relentless.
For a brief moment, the tickling subsided, allowing her a second to gasp for air. But before she could fully process the situation, the strangers tugged her into a seated position. That moment of relief was short-lived.
"NO—WAIT! NOT AGAIN! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
The fingers returned, ruthlessly attacking her vulnerable torso. The grips on her wrists kept her helplessly restrained, leaving her completely at their mercy. Her body convulsed, her stomach muscles contracting as waves of uncontrollable laughter wracked through her. Each squeeze against her ribs sent her jerking upright, only for her body to collapse helplessly against the stranger behind her.
Her limbs flailed uselessly, her strength rapidly draining. "STO—HAHAHAHAHA! PLEASE! STO—HAHAHAHAHA!" she pleaded, though her words were barely comprehensible between breathless, frantic laughter. Her struggles weakened as her energy waned, her face now a deep crimson, glistening with the tears forming at the corners of her tightly shut eyes.
And then, a new, horrifying sensation sent her adrenaline surging once more.
Amid her struggles, she felt additional weight pressing down on her legs. Through tear-blurred vision, she glimpsed someone sitting across her ankles, pinning them firmly to the ground. Cold air suddenly touched her socked feet as her shoes were methodically removed. The realization of what would come next sent a jolt of pure panic through her already overstimulated system. Her heart hammered against her ribcage with such force she felt it might burst, adrenaline flooding her veins with one desperate surge.
In that moment of heightened fear, something primal awakened within her. With strength born of sheer desperation, she wrenched one arm free from its captor's grasp. Before they could recapture her, she twisted violently, breaking the hold on her other wrist. In one frantic motion, she planted her palm against the floor and shoved her body upward, simultaneously pushing against the person restraining her ankles.
Even as she scrambled away, hands continued to poke at her retreating form. Each touch, no matter how brief, sent visible shudders through her hypersensitive body. Her movements remained jerky and uncoordinated, her equilibrium completely destroyed by the ordeal. She stumbled forward while grabbing her shoes, still gasping for breath, her face streaked with tears and her expression a mixture of lingering hysteria and dawning relief as she finally put distance between herself and her tormentors.
She sprinted to the restroom, locked herself in a stall, and attempted to compose herself while putting on her shoes. When she emerged, there was only one woman in the restroom, fixing her hair. Quenny stood before the mirror and surveyed her disheveled appearance, her clothes rumpled and her makeup, especially her mascara, smudged beyond recognition. She turned on the faucet and splashed water on her face, washing away the remnants of her clown makeup.
Suddenly, she felt another poke on her side, causing her to jerk violently. "AIEE!" she yelped. It was the woman who had been fixing her hair, who poked Quenny as she exited the restroom.
"Wait, stop! Why is everyone tickling me? What's wrong with this town?" Quenny demanded, desperate for answers.
"Honey, I apologize. I assumed you wanted it to happen because there's a 'tickle me' sign on your back," the woman replied.
"What? What sign?" Quenny asked, spinning around to examine her reflection in the mirror. Sure enough, a piece of paper was attached to her back. The woman helped Quenny remove it and handed it to her. Quenny read the note: "I'm a sad clown, please tickle me."
"This must be those mischievous guys from the birthday party," Quenny muttered. She thanked the woman and left the restroom, heading toward her car in hopes that Weiling had completed her shopping.
"HEY! You're that girl who got tickled earlier!" a young woman called out, approaching Quenny. She sighed and nodded while continuing to walk.
"You're really adorable!" the sales girl exclaimed, causing Quenny to pause. She rarely received compliments, so such praise immediately softened her demeanor.
"You need to relax. All that tickling must have exhausted you! Try our massage chair," the girl suggested. Quenny agreed that she felt somewhat sore from the ordeal but worried that Weiling might be waiting at the car. After a brief exchange, the sales girl grabbed Quenny's arm and led her toward the massage chair, insisting that she needed to relax and that the session would be complimentary. Quenny, having been practically dragged along, reluctantly agreed, acknowledging that relaxation might be beneficial after the strange events of the day and totally forgot about Weiling. .
Once the sales girl, who introduced herself as Renee, had situated Quenny in the massage chair, she removed Quenny's shoes and placed her legs on the leg rest. Quenny merely nodded in response, already feeling comfortable enough to emit a soft sigh of contentment. The cushioned seat and leg rests were exceptionally plush. Soon, another sales girl named Coco approached and sat beside Quenny, taking her hand and massaging it, further enhancing her relaxation.
"Oh, thank you. This feels absolutely divine!" Quenny exclaimed as Renee activated the massage chair. Quenny dozed off instantly, only to be awakened seconds later by a sharp poke to her ribs.
"AH! What? Huh?" Quenny shrieked, startled from her brief slumber.
"So, are you considering purchasing it?" one of the sales girls inquired after poking Quenny awake.
"What? No, I'm sorry. It does feel wonderful, though," Quenny replied.
"Oh, you're not thinking of buying it? You should, we let you experience what this chair can do," Renee said as she delivered another poke to Quenny's side. Quenny jerked and shrieked, "AH! No, wait, I'm sorry, but I'm not planning to buy it. You essentially dragged me here." She now used both hands to shield the side that had been poked.
Coco, noticing Quenny's other side was undefended, poked her there, causing Quenny to jump in the opposite direction. "Ooh, you're quite jumpy. Come on, buy it!" Coco said, delivering another poke to Quenny's unprotected side. Quenny jerked left and then right again as she felt another poke, essentially gyrating in her seat with an involuntary smile plastered on her face.
"AH! Wa-ahaha no wait... hahaha stop! AH! WAIT! AH! wa-hahaha!" Quenny squirmed in the seat giggling. She summoned all her strength to escape from the chair but was pulled back by the two sales girls, each grabbing one of her arms.
"What are you two doing? Release me!" Quenny demanded, her concern mounting. Her apprehension intensified when the leg rest suddenly elevated and deployed restraints that trapped her legs, effectively immobilizing her.
"Are you certain you don't want to purchase this chair?" the sales girl asked.
"NO! Please let me go!" Quenny pleaded.
The sales girls exchanged glances before saying, "Very well, suit yourself then." Renee's lips curled into a sinister smirk. "HEY EVERYONE! REMEMBER THIS SAD CLOWN? SHE NEEDS CHEERING UP!" she shouted across the mall.
"What are you doing? What's happening?" Quenny asked, her fear escalating with each passing second. A man approached and said, "Oh, you're that girl from earlier who got tickled. She's still sad, ladies? Well, I guess she needs some cheering up." Quenny felt anxiety building within her, anticipating the nightmare about to unfold. Her fears materialized when the man knelt down and removed her socks.
"Please don't... please don't tickle me," Quenny begged.
"But you're a sad clown, remember?" With that, he began scribbling his fingers across Quenny's sensitive feet.
Quenny instantly lost all self-control and erupted into hysterical laughter. She writhed in her seat while both sales girls maintained their iron grip on her arms. "PLE-HAHAHHAAHAHA STA-HAHAHAHA!" Quenny, as usual, struggled to form coherent sentences amidst her wild reaction to being tickled. Her mind was consumed by the sensation of her feet being mercilessly tormented. The man continued to scribble his fingers across her soft soles for four uninterrupted minutes. She shook her head violently from side to side, her genuine screams of laughter filling the air. So intense was her focus on her ticklish feet that she failed to notice the drool forming at the corner of her mouth. Her struggles became so vigorous that her arms began to slip from the sales girls' grasp, prompting them to signal the man to stop, which he did.
Quenny appeared utterly defeated after just five minutes of tickle torture. She went limp, her head falling back against the chair as she breathed heavily, her hair matted across her face, partially obscuring her expressive eyes.
"Aww, you're drooling. Let me wipe that off," Renee offered. Quenny turned to look at her. "Thanks, but please, I don't want to be here. Just let me go" she pleaded weakly.
"Certainly, but only if you promise to purchase this chair," Coco responded.
"No... I don't want to buy the chair, at least not right now. This isn't fair. Please just let m-AAH!" Quenny's words were cut short by Renee poking her again. Quenny jumped toward Renee's direction.
"If you're not going to buy this, then you'll have to remain here for another fifteen minutes while we collect money from the crowd," Renee explained. Quenny looked confused until she noticed the jar that Renee held up, already containing a substantial amount of cash.
"We have to generate income somehow, Quenny. So we devised a plan. After witnessing you being tickled earlier, we decided to monetize your predicament! We're going to charge anyone who wants to tickle you. Just look ahead!" Renee explained, pointing to what lay before Quenny. She had been so distracted that she hadn't noticed the large crowd gathering to either watch or participate in her torment. Her eyes widened in horror as panic set in. When she took a second look at the jar, she saw it was already half full of money.
As Quenny began to plead with the sales girls, her words dissolved into laughter midway through her sentence. A man from the crowd had stepped forward and begun tickling her feet. The tickling event had begun.
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"Hysterical laughter echoed through the mall as spectators eagerly took turns participating in a promotional tickling challenge with a visibly uncomfortable participant. Beads of perspiration formed on Quenny's flushed forehead during her brief one-minute respite.
"We're only halfway through, Quenny," Coco announced triumphantly. "There are sixteen more people on the participant list who haven't had their turn yet," she added, gesturing toward the extensive roster of names.
"Please, you must release me. I have urgent matters elsewhere!" Quenny pleaded desperately.
Coco replied matter-of-factly, "You can leave early under one condition—either purchase this chair or endure until there are no more participants remaining."
"This promotion isn't legal! I'm going to report you—AHH!" Quenny’s protest was abruptly cut short, her voice dissolving into frantic laughter as the participant in front of her delicately dragged their fingertips along the sensitive soles of her feet.
"No, wait! HAHAHA! STOP! HAHAHA!" she shrieked, her body convulsing as waves of unbearable ticklish sensations shot up her legs.
Renee and Coco momentarily loosened their grip on her arms, their own muscles fatigued from holding down their squirming captive. However, this slight relaxation unintentionally worked to their advantage. Each time Quenny desperately tried to swat at the person teasing her feet, one of them would land a well-placed prod to her exposed sides, sending her flailing back into her seat with a startled yelp.
The cycle became almost comical: Quenny would lunge forward, her arms flailing in a desperate attempt to protect her feet, only to have Coco jab a finger into the soft curve of her waist, making her jerk violently to the side. Before she could recover, Renee would exploit the moment, pressing her fingers into Quenny’s unguarded ribs, forcing her to twist the other way. This back-and-forth torment reduced her to a breathless, writhing mess, unable to mount any form of resistance.
Her laughter grew increasingly erratic, wild and uncontrollable, her body betraying her as every touch sent involuntary spasms through her frame. Her eyes, squeezed shut, glistened with tears that streamed down her flushed cheeks. She thrashed helplessly in her seat, her back arching and legs kicking as the participant at her feet continued to glide their fingers up and down her soles with agonizing precision. They experimented with different speeds, switching between slow, agonizingly light strokes and rapid scribbles along the delicate skin beneath her toes, eliciting desperate gasps and high-pitched giggles from their captive.
The crowd erupted into laughter, clearly enjoying the spectacle of Quenny's suffering. To them, her helplessness was pure entertainment.
A man stepped forward from the crowd, observing the promotional staff with a confident smile. "Hello, I'm on the participant list. Would it be possible for me to focus on her upper body while the remaining participants attend to her feet?"
"Certainly!" Coco responded enthusiastically, stepping aside to give him her position.
Quenny’s breath hitched between ragged gasps as she flinched. "Please, no. You must let me go. I'll do any—"
She barely finished her plea before her body jolted involuntarily. "Can you stop that, Renee?!" she snapped, shifting to the side as Renee nonchalantly prodded her again.
"Oh, are you annoyed?" Renee asked mockingly, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips as she slowly circled behind Quenny.
Quenny tensed, sensing something sinister in Renee’s deliberate movements. She tried twisting around to see what was coming, but the moment she turned, the man beside her took his opportunity. His fingers dug into her sides without warning, kneading and scribbling relentlessly, and instantly, Quenny's shriek of laughter erupted once again.
"HAHAHAHA NOO! AHAHAHA! PLEASE! STOP! HAHAHA!"
Her body convulsed violently in response, her limbs jerking uncontrollably as if electrified. The way his fingers danced along her ribs made her entire torso quake, her stomach tightening in a futile attempt to resist the overwhelming sensations. She bucked forward, attempting to shield herself, but just as she did, the participant below latched onto her toes, wiggling and scratching along the delicate undersides.
"HAHAHAHA! OH NO—AHAHAHAH! NOT MY TOES! HAHAHAHAHA!"
She threw her head back, her laughter turning desperate as she pounded her fists against the seat, completely overwhelmed.
Meanwhile, from behind, Renee finally made her move. She grabbed Quenny’s wrists and, with a firm tug, yanked them upward, pulling her arms high above her head and stretching them back. Quenny gasped in alarm, her widened eyes filled with panic as she instinctively tried to tug her hands free, but it was no use. Renee’s grip was solid, keeping her locked in place.
The man leaned in closer, mere inches from her exposed underarm. The proximity stirred his peculiar fixation, an unexplainable fascination with her armpit. As he continued, his gaze remained transfixed on the flawless expanse of her skin, silky, hairless, and meticulously shaven. The soft curve of her arm, the delicate sheen of her perspiration, and the way her skin glistened under the light only deepened his intrigue.
She squirmed in her seat, her body writhing as peals of hysterical laughter spilled from her lips. Yet, for him, time seemed to slow, every second stretching as he marveled at the sight before him. Tiny beads of sweat formed and trickled down the smooth surface of her armpit.
Noticing his enthralled expression, Coco smirked and leaned toward him. “Go ahead,” she teased, her voice laced with amusement. “You may never get this chance again.”
She watched as he hesitated for only a moment, before her invitation urged him to indulge his curiosity further.
He abandoned his previous approach and asked, "Are you okay, girl?" addressing an exhausted Quenny who appeared as though she had just completed a marathon. Her disheveled hair was plastered across her forehead in damp strands. As she slowly looked up, her eyes widened in alarm as she realized the man's hands were already positioned inches away from her. She shook her head desperately. "Plea—EY! AHAHAHA!" Her plea was interrupted by a new participant who had begun at her feet. Quenny's reactions intensified dramatically.
The exposed position left her armpits more vulnerable, allowing him to use just one finger on each side to create small circular motions. This specific technique triggered particularly intense reactions, which seemed to delight him greatly. In that moment, he developed an intense fascination with her responses and wanted to prolong the experience indefinitely.
Quenny now seemed lost in her own world, becoming delirious as she entered a state of pure reactivity. She no longer appeared to contemplate escape, having resigned herself to enduring the situation. Her body twisted and turned involuntarily, responding to the stimuli. Her mouth opened wide, revealing perfect white teeth as she laughed loudly, sweat and tears rolling down her flushed face. "HAHAHAHAHAHA STA-HAHAHAHAHAH!" She could no longer form coherent words as every nerve ending in her body reached extreme sensitivity. People continued taking turns at her feet; she had lost count of how many had participated.
Quenny's armpits proved to be even more ticklish than expected. As he lightly scratched the center of her damp skin, her laughter transformed from giggles into uncontrollable, full-bodied convulsions. Her shoulders hunched instinctively, attempting to protect her vulnerable spots, but the restraints held firm, leaving her completely exposed. Each circular motion of his fingertip sent visible waves of sensation across her skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. The muscles in her neck strained as her head thrashed from side to side, her hair whipping across her crimson face.
Her breathing became erratic, sharp, desperate inhales followed by explosive bursts of laughter that seemed to emanate from deep within her core. The veins in her neck and forehead became prominent as she struggled against the overwhelming sensations. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks, smearing what little makeup remained after her earlier ordeals. Her eyes, when briefly visible between tightly squeezed lids, revealed pupils dilated with intensity.
Each time he changed the pattern of his movements, switching from circles to light scratching, or from rapid fluttering to slow, deliberate strokes, her entire body responded with renewed vigor. Her stomach muscles clenched visibly beneath her skin, her legs kicked helplessly, and her fingers curled into tight fists. Occasionally, when he found a particularly sensitive spot just below the curve of her underarm, her voice would climb to a pitch that seemed impossible, breaking into a series of breathless, silent spasms where she appeared unable to make any sound at all for several seconds before gasping desperately for air.
The flush that had started on her face now spread across her chest and shoulders, her skin glistening with a sheen of perspiration that only made his fingertips glide more smoothly across her hypersensitive armpit. Every nerve ending seemed to fire simultaneously, overwhelming her capacity to process the sensations, leaving her in a state where laughter and distress became indistinguishable from one another.
And then everything stopped abruptly. She appeared utterly defeated, her head slumping forward in exhaustion. The man who had participated introduced himself as Rom. Quenny looked up at him, confused by this unexpected introduction. He leaned closer, gently grasped her chin to lift her face, and simply stared into her beautiful eyes. Despite her disheveled appearance, breathing heavily with perspiration glistening on her skin, her features remained striking. Her face was already flushed from the ordeal, making it difficult to discern if she was blushing, but she was too exhausted to analyze the peculiar moment.
Rom clearly had developed an intense fascination with Quenny's reactions. He departed, and immediately a young woman approached and launched herself at Quenny, grabbing her sides, which made her bounce high up from her seat with a shrill shriek followed by renewed wild laughter. The sudden action caught her off guard as she realized with dismay that her ordeal wasn't over. Several more participants approached, employing various techniques. Some even used a toothpick, repeatedly touching the center of her soles, making her jump reflexively each time. Others took turns at her sides, and some even gently pressed against her neck, resulting in her twitching her neck while wearing an involuntary grin. Quenny seemed destined to endure this for an uncertain duration, becoming the perfect subject for the remaining participants.
Several hours passed before the spectacle finally concluded. Coco and Renee unlocked Quenny's leg restraints and watched as she slumped in the chair, her chest heaving with labored breaths. "You know what, you've earned us considerable revenue. Here, take this—you've earned it," Renee said, placing $200 in Quenny's palm. Quenny was too exhausted to even utter thanks, but she nodded slowly in appreciation.
"Alright, we need to close the store, Quenny," Coco announced.
"Just ten more minutes," Quenny pleaded weakly.
"No, I need to get home soon!" Coco insisted as she poked Quenny's side playfully. The contact gave her a small boost of energy as she jolted upright and quickly, if clumsily, rose from the chair.
"AH! AH! OKAY! AH! HAHA! OKAY, STOP, I'M GOING!" Quenny exclaimed in panic as she continued being prodded on her sensitive sides. As she walked away from them, Renee called out, "If you want to earn more money, you know where to find us!" She didn't acknowledge this and proceeded directly to the mall exit.
She took out her phone and dialed Weiling's number to apologize, knowing her friend must be furious after waiting for her in the parking lot. The phone rang as she reached the parking area, but when she arrived, her car was nowhere to be seen. She scanned the parking lot anxiously but saw no trace of her vehicle. Then Weiling's phone connected: "Hello?" Quenny said tentatively.
"This must be Quenny. Your friend Weiling is with us," an unfamiliar voice responded ominously. "We've abducted your friend and demand $20,000. Do not contact the authorities, or we will harm your friend. You must come alone.”
To be continued-
Novita replied, "She's in the backyard."
With a sense of dread building in her chest, Quenny hurried through the house and pushed open the back door. Before she even stepped outside, she heard hysterical laughter echoing across the yard. The sound made her pulse quicken.
There, sprawled on the grass, was Weiling, laughing uncontrollably, her body thrashing like a fish out of water. Standing over her was a mysterious figure in a hoodie, the hood pulled low to obscure their face. The stranger had their arm wrapped around Weiling's ankle with their fingers tickling her feet.
"HEY, STOP!" Quenny shouted, breaking into a sprint across the lawn.
But she wasn't fast enough. At the sound of her voice, the hooded figure immediately released Weiling's leg and darted away, disappearing over the fence with surprising agility.
Quenny reached her friend, who lay gasping for breath, tears of laughter still streaming down her flushed face.
"Who was that?" Quenny asked Weiling.
"He was hiding somewhere as I was decorating. Then he just jumped out from near that fence," Weiling pointed at the corner of the backyard. "And then he tackled me to the ground and tickled me!"
"This is getting bizarre. I need to talk to Novita. Let's go," Quenny commanded, gesturing for Weiling to follow her while she addressed the situation with Novita.
After the explanation, Novita said, "That's strange because I saw a hooded figure opposite my house several times last week, but I didn't think much of it since he never looked in my direction." Novita's face clearly showed concern about the hooded stranger, but she brushed it off and apologized to Weiling for the incident. Weiling assured her it wasn't her fault, thanked her, and left the house with Quenny.
As Quenny approached her car, she felt a sudden jab at her sides. "AH!" she yelped, clamping her elbows to her sides. She whirled around and saw a stranger retracting his arms from her sides with a mischievous grin.
"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU? GET AWAY FROM ME!" Quenny bellowed, her frustration palpable. The stranger merely smirked before darting away.
Still scowling, Quenny told Weiling that this was getting out of hand, what an absurd day it had been. Weiling chuckled in acknowledgment as they both climbed into the car. Minutes after driving away from Novita's house, Weiling mentioned she wanted to purchase something at the nearby mall. Quenny initially refused, insisting they needed to return to work, but after Weiling's persistent pleas and promises of brevity, Quenny reluctantly comply, changing course toward the mall.
Upon arriving at the mall's parking lot, they exited the vehicle and headed toward the entrance. As they walked, Quenny overheard a child a short distance away exclaiming, "Look at that clown! She looks so weird!" Quenny's eyes widened in horror, she had forgotten to remove her face paint and costume from the birthday party. Mortified, they hastened their pace toward the mall so Quenny could find a restroom and wash off the makeup.
Once inside, she scanned the area for a restroom sign. As she searched, she felt a cold hand touch her neck, causing her to instinctively fold her neck to the side, trapping the hand as she crumpled to the floor in a fit of giggles. The cold hand remained for about eight seconds before she managed to escape. She turned around to confront whoever had touched her while still clutching her neck protectively.
"Oh, you're ticklish on your neck. That's adorable," remarked a stranger standing before Quenny. Too unsettled to respond, she rose to her feet and backed away cautiously. Maintaining eye contact with the stranger, she said to Weiling, "What is wrong with everyone today? This is becoming increasingly bizarre. Let's hurry and find whatever you're looking for while I search for the restroom, okay?"
"Are you certain you'll be alright?" Weiling asked, her voice tinged with concern.
"Yes, I think so. I just want to leave this place quickly. Please hurry and find what you need. We'll reconvene in the car!" Quenny instructed. They parted ways after Weiling's acknowledgement.
As Quenny wandered in search of a restroom sign, she noticed numerous people staring in her direction. She assumed it was because of her clown makeup, but strangely, some began to walk toward her at a measured pace after she passed them. Increasingly unnerved, she quickened her steps as she searched for the restroom. Finally, she spotted a sign hanging from the ceiling with an arrow pointing to the right.
As she turned in that direction, a firm grip suddenly seized her wrist. She whipped around, startled, only to find a woman in her fifties clutching her arm with an unsettling smile. "Seems like we need to cheer you up," the woman murmured ominously.
Before Quenny could react, another set of hands latched onto her free wrist, yanking her arms apart into a rigid T-position. A surge of panic shot through her chest. "WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?!" she shouted, her voice laced with bewilderment and fear.
And then—it began.
A strange, bubbling sensation welled up in her throat, overwhelming her with an uncontrollable urge to laugh.
"PLEASE, LET ME GAHAHAHAHAHA!" Quenny's defiance crumbled into pure hysteria the instant she felt fingers digging into her sides. Her body spasmed as if struck by lightning, her legs giving way beneath her. She crumpled onto the floor, her arms still held hostage, her laughter spiraling into a breathless, desperate frenzy.
Her face lit up in an involuntary, wide-mouthed grin, her cheeks reddening as the merciless squeezing continued. The sensation was unbearable—each relentless knead against her sensitive waist sent electrifying jolts of ticklish agony through her nerves. Her muscles twitched violently, her back arching as she fought to twist away. But her tormentors were relentless.
For a brief moment, the tickling subsided, allowing her a second to gasp for air. But before she could fully process the situation, the strangers tugged her into a seated position. That moment of relief was short-lived.
"NO—WAIT! NOT AGAIN! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
The fingers returned, ruthlessly attacking her vulnerable torso. The grips on her wrists kept her helplessly restrained, leaving her completely at their mercy. Her body convulsed, her stomach muscles contracting as waves of uncontrollable laughter wracked through her. Each squeeze against her ribs sent her jerking upright, only for her body to collapse helplessly against the stranger behind her.
Her limbs flailed uselessly, her strength rapidly draining. "STO—HAHAHAHAHA! PLEASE! STO—HAHAHAHAHA!" she pleaded, though her words were barely comprehensible between breathless, frantic laughter. Her struggles weakened as her energy waned, her face now a deep crimson, glistening with the tears forming at the corners of her tightly shut eyes.
And then, a new, horrifying sensation sent her adrenaline surging once more.
Amid her struggles, she felt additional weight pressing down on her legs. Through tear-blurred vision, she glimpsed someone sitting across her ankles, pinning them firmly to the ground. Cold air suddenly touched her socked feet as her shoes were methodically removed. The realization of what would come next sent a jolt of pure panic through her already overstimulated system. Her heart hammered against her ribcage with such force she felt it might burst, adrenaline flooding her veins with one desperate surge.
In that moment of heightened fear, something primal awakened within her. With strength born of sheer desperation, she wrenched one arm free from its captor's grasp. Before they could recapture her, she twisted violently, breaking the hold on her other wrist. In one frantic motion, she planted her palm against the floor and shoved her body upward, simultaneously pushing against the person restraining her ankles.
Even as she scrambled away, hands continued to poke at her retreating form. Each touch, no matter how brief, sent visible shudders through her hypersensitive body. Her movements remained jerky and uncoordinated, her equilibrium completely destroyed by the ordeal. She stumbled forward while grabbing her shoes, still gasping for breath, her face streaked with tears and her expression a mixture of lingering hysteria and dawning relief as she finally put distance between herself and her tormentors.
She sprinted to the restroom, locked herself in a stall, and attempted to compose herself while putting on her shoes. When she emerged, there was only one woman in the restroom, fixing her hair. Quenny stood before the mirror and surveyed her disheveled appearance, her clothes rumpled and her makeup, especially her mascara, smudged beyond recognition. She turned on the faucet and splashed water on her face, washing away the remnants of her clown makeup.
Suddenly, she felt another poke on her side, causing her to jerk violently. "AIEE!" she yelped. It was the woman who had been fixing her hair, who poked Quenny as she exited the restroom.
"Wait, stop! Why is everyone tickling me? What's wrong with this town?" Quenny demanded, desperate for answers.
"Honey, I apologize. I assumed you wanted it to happen because there's a 'tickle me' sign on your back," the woman replied.
"What? What sign?" Quenny asked, spinning around to examine her reflection in the mirror. Sure enough, a piece of paper was attached to her back. The woman helped Quenny remove it and handed it to her. Quenny read the note: "I'm a sad clown, please tickle me."
"This must be those mischievous guys from the birthday party," Quenny muttered. She thanked the woman and left the restroom, heading toward her car in hopes that Weiling had completed her shopping.
"HEY! You're that girl who got tickled earlier!" a young woman called out, approaching Quenny. She sighed and nodded while continuing to walk.
"You're really adorable!" the sales girl exclaimed, causing Quenny to pause. She rarely received compliments, so such praise immediately softened her demeanor.
"You need to relax. All that tickling must have exhausted you! Try our massage chair," the girl suggested. Quenny agreed that she felt somewhat sore from the ordeal but worried that Weiling might be waiting at the car. After a brief exchange, the sales girl grabbed Quenny's arm and led her toward the massage chair, insisting that she needed to relax and that the session would be complimentary. Quenny, having been practically dragged along, reluctantly agreed, acknowledging that relaxation might be beneficial after the strange events of the day and totally forgot about Weiling. .
Once the sales girl, who introduced herself as Renee, had situated Quenny in the massage chair, she removed Quenny's shoes and placed her legs on the leg rest. Quenny merely nodded in response, already feeling comfortable enough to emit a soft sigh of contentment. The cushioned seat and leg rests were exceptionally plush. Soon, another sales girl named Coco approached and sat beside Quenny, taking her hand and massaging it, further enhancing her relaxation.
"Oh, thank you. This feels absolutely divine!" Quenny exclaimed as Renee activated the massage chair. Quenny dozed off instantly, only to be awakened seconds later by a sharp poke to her ribs.
"AH! What? Huh?" Quenny shrieked, startled from her brief slumber.
"So, are you considering purchasing it?" one of the sales girls inquired after poking Quenny awake.
"What? No, I'm sorry. It does feel wonderful, though," Quenny replied.
"Oh, you're not thinking of buying it? You should, we let you experience what this chair can do," Renee said as she delivered another poke to Quenny's side. Quenny jerked and shrieked, "AH! No, wait, I'm sorry, but I'm not planning to buy it. You essentially dragged me here." She now used both hands to shield the side that had been poked.
Coco, noticing Quenny's other side was undefended, poked her there, causing Quenny to jump in the opposite direction. "Ooh, you're quite jumpy. Come on, buy it!" Coco said, delivering another poke to Quenny's unprotected side. Quenny jerked left and then right again as she felt another poke, essentially gyrating in her seat with an involuntary smile plastered on her face.
"AH! Wa-ahaha no wait... hahaha stop! AH! WAIT! AH! wa-hahaha!" Quenny squirmed in the seat giggling. She summoned all her strength to escape from the chair but was pulled back by the two sales girls, each grabbing one of her arms.
"What are you two doing? Release me!" Quenny demanded, her concern mounting. Her apprehension intensified when the leg rest suddenly elevated and deployed restraints that trapped her legs, effectively immobilizing her.
"Are you certain you don't want to purchase this chair?" the sales girl asked.
"NO! Please let me go!" Quenny pleaded.
The sales girls exchanged glances before saying, "Very well, suit yourself then." Renee's lips curled into a sinister smirk. "HEY EVERYONE! REMEMBER THIS SAD CLOWN? SHE NEEDS CHEERING UP!" she shouted across the mall.
"What are you doing? What's happening?" Quenny asked, her fear escalating with each passing second. A man approached and said, "Oh, you're that girl from earlier who got tickled. She's still sad, ladies? Well, I guess she needs some cheering up." Quenny felt anxiety building within her, anticipating the nightmare about to unfold. Her fears materialized when the man knelt down and removed her socks.
"Please don't... please don't tickle me," Quenny begged.
"But you're a sad clown, remember?" With that, he began scribbling his fingers across Quenny's sensitive feet.
Quenny instantly lost all self-control and erupted into hysterical laughter. She writhed in her seat while both sales girls maintained their iron grip on her arms. "PLE-HAHAHHAAHAHA STA-HAHAHAHA!" Quenny, as usual, struggled to form coherent sentences amidst her wild reaction to being tickled. Her mind was consumed by the sensation of her feet being mercilessly tormented. The man continued to scribble his fingers across her soft soles for four uninterrupted minutes. She shook her head violently from side to side, her genuine screams of laughter filling the air. So intense was her focus on her ticklish feet that she failed to notice the drool forming at the corner of her mouth. Her struggles became so vigorous that her arms began to slip from the sales girls' grasp, prompting them to signal the man to stop, which he did.
Quenny appeared utterly defeated after just five minutes of tickle torture. She went limp, her head falling back against the chair as she breathed heavily, her hair matted across her face, partially obscuring her expressive eyes.
"Aww, you're drooling. Let me wipe that off," Renee offered. Quenny turned to look at her. "Thanks, but please, I don't want to be here. Just let me go" she pleaded weakly.
"Certainly, but only if you promise to purchase this chair," Coco responded.
"No... I don't want to buy the chair, at least not right now. This isn't fair. Please just let m-AAH!" Quenny's words were cut short by Renee poking her again. Quenny jumped toward Renee's direction.
"If you're not going to buy this, then you'll have to remain here for another fifteen minutes while we collect money from the crowd," Renee explained. Quenny looked confused until she noticed the jar that Renee held up, already containing a substantial amount of cash.
"We have to generate income somehow, Quenny. So we devised a plan. After witnessing you being tickled earlier, we decided to monetize your predicament! We're going to charge anyone who wants to tickle you. Just look ahead!" Renee explained, pointing to what lay before Quenny. She had been so distracted that she hadn't noticed the large crowd gathering to either watch or participate in her torment. Her eyes widened in horror as panic set in. When she took a second look at the jar, she saw it was already half full of money.
As Quenny began to plead with the sales girls, her words dissolved into laughter midway through her sentence. A man from the crowd had stepped forward and begun tickling her feet. The tickling event had begun.
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"Hysterical laughter echoed through the mall as spectators eagerly took turns participating in a promotional tickling challenge with a visibly uncomfortable participant. Beads of perspiration formed on Quenny's flushed forehead during her brief one-minute respite.
"We're only halfway through, Quenny," Coco announced triumphantly. "There are sixteen more people on the participant list who haven't had their turn yet," she added, gesturing toward the extensive roster of names.
"Please, you must release me. I have urgent matters elsewhere!" Quenny pleaded desperately.
Coco replied matter-of-factly, "You can leave early under one condition—either purchase this chair or endure until there are no more participants remaining."
"This promotion isn't legal! I'm going to report you—AHH!" Quenny’s protest was abruptly cut short, her voice dissolving into frantic laughter as the participant in front of her delicately dragged their fingertips along the sensitive soles of her feet.
"No, wait! HAHAHA! STOP! HAHAHA!" she shrieked, her body convulsing as waves of unbearable ticklish sensations shot up her legs.
Renee and Coco momentarily loosened their grip on her arms, their own muscles fatigued from holding down their squirming captive. However, this slight relaxation unintentionally worked to their advantage. Each time Quenny desperately tried to swat at the person teasing her feet, one of them would land a well-placed prod to her exposed sides, sending her flailing back into her seat with a startled yelp.
The cycle became almost comical: Quenny would lunge forward, her arms flailing in a desperate attempt to protect her feet, only to have Coco jab a finger into the soft curve of her waist, making her jerk violently to the side. Before she could recover, Renee would exploit the moment, pressing her fingers into Quenny’s unguarded ribs, forcing her to twist the other way. This back-and-forth torment reduced her to a breathless, writhing mess, unable to mount any form of resistance.
Her laughter grew increasingly erratic, wild and uncontrollable, her body betraying her as every touch sent involuntary spasms through her frame. Her eyes, squeezed shut, glistened with tears that streamed down her flushed cheeks. She thrashed helplessly in her seat, her back arching and legs kicking as the participant at her feet continued to glide their fingers up and down her soles with agonizing precision. They experimented with different speeds, switching between slow, agonizingly light strokes and rapid scribbles along the delicate skin beneath her toes, eliciting desperate gasps and high-pitched giggles from their captive.
The crowd erupted into laughter, clearly enjoying the spectacle of Quenny's suffering. To them, her helplessness was pure entertainment.
A man stepped forward from the crowd, observing the promotional staff with a confident smile. "Hello, I'm on the participant list. Would it be possible for me to focus on her upper body while the remaining participants attend to her feet?"
"Certainly!" Coco responded enthusiastically, stepping aside to give him her position.
Quenny’s breath hitched between ragged gasps as she flinched. "Please, no. You must let me go. I'll do any—"
She barely finished her plea before her body jolted involuntarily. "Can you stop that, Renee?!" she snapped, shifting to the side as Renee nonchalantly prodded her again.
"Oh, are you annoyed?" Renee asked mockingly, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips as she slowly circled behind Quenny.
Quenny tensed, sensing something sinister in Renee’s deliberate movements. She tried twisting around to see what was coming, but the moment she turned, the man beside her took his opportunity. His fingers dug into her sides without warning, kneading and scribbling relentlessly, and instantly, Quenny's shriek of laughter erupted once again.
"HAHAHAHA NOO! AHAHAHA! PLEASE! STOP! HAHAHA!"
Her body convulsed violently in response, her limbs jerking uncontrollably as if electrified. The way his fingers danced along her ribs made her entire torso quake, her stomach tightening in a futile attempt to resist the overwhelming sensations. She bucked forward, attempting to shield herself, but just as she did, the participant below latched onto her toes, wiggling and scratching along the delicate undersides.
"HAHAHAHA! OH NO—AHAHAHAH! NOT MY TOES! HAHAHAHAHA!"
She threw her head back, her laughter turning desperate as she pounded her fists against the seat, completely overwhelmed.
Meanwhile, from behind, Renee finally made her move. She grabbed Quenny’s wrists and, with a firm tug, yanked them upward, pulling her arms high above her head and stretching them back. Quenny gasped in alarm, her widened eyes filled with panic as she instinctively tried to tug her hands free, but it was no use. Renee’s grip was solid, keeping her locked in place.
The man leaned in closer, mere inches from her exposed underarm. The proximity stirred his peculiar fixation, an unexplainable fascination with her armpit. As he continued, his gaze remained transfixed on the flawless expanse of her skin, silky, hairless, and meticulously shaven. The soft curve of her arm, the delicate sheen of her perspiration, and the way her skin glistened under the light only deepened his intrigue.
She squirmed in her seat, her body writhing as peals of hysterical laughter spilled from her lips. Yet, for him, time seemed to slow, every second stretching as he marveled at the sight before him. Tiny beads of sweat formed and trickled down the smooth surface of her armpit.
Noticing his enthralled expression, Coco smirked and leaned toward him. “Go ahead,” she teased, her voice laced with amusement. “You may never get this chance again.”
She watched as he hesitated for only a moment, before her invitation urged him to indulge his curiosity further.
He abandoned his previous approach and asked, "Are you okay, girl?" addressing an exhausted Quenny who appeared as though she had just completed a marathon. Her disheveled hair was plastered across her forehead in damp strands. As she slowly looked up, her eyes widened in alarm as she realized the man's hands were already positioned inches away from her. She shook her head desperately. "Plea—EY! AHAHAHA!" Her plea was interrupted by a new participant who had begun at her feet. Quenny's reactions intensified dramatically.
The exposed position left her armpits more vulnerable, allowing him to use just one finger on each side to create small circular motions. This specific technique triggered particularly intense reactions, which seemed to delight him greatly. In that moment, he developed an intense fascination with her responses and wanted to prolong the experience indefinitely.
Quenny now seemed lost in her own world, becoming delirious as she entered a state of pure reactivity. She no longer appeared to contemplate escape, having resigned herself to enduring the situation. Her body twisted and turned involuntarily, responding to the stimuli. Her mouth opened wide, revealing perfect white teeth as she laughed loudly, sweat and tears rolling down her flushed face. "HAHAHAHAHAHA STA-HAHAHAHAHAH!" She could no longer form coherent words as every nerve ending in her body reached extreme sensitivity. People continued taking turns at her feet; she had lost count of how many had participated.
Quenny's armpits proved to be even more ticklish than expected. As he lightly scratched the center of her damp skin, her laughter transformed from giggles into uncontrollable, full-bodied convulsions. Her shoulders hunched instinctively, attempting to protect her vulnerable spots, but the restraints held firm, leaving her completely exposed. Each circular motion of his fingertip sent visible waves of sensation across her skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. The muscles in her neck strained as her head thrashed from side to side, her hair whipping across her crimson face.
Her breathing became erratic, sharp, desperate inhales followed by explosive bursts of laughter that seemed to emanate from deep within her core. The veins in her neck and forehead became prominent as she struggled against the overwhelming sensations. Tears streamed freely down her cheeks, smearing what little makeup remained after her earlier ordeals. Her eyes, when briefly visible between tightly squeezed lids, revealed pupils dilated with intensity.
Each time he changed the pattern of his movements, switching from circles to light scratching, or from rapid fluttering to slow, deliberate strokes, her entire body responded with renewed vigor. Her stomach muscles clenched visibly beneath her skin, her legs kicked helplessly, and her fingers curled into tight fists. Occasionally, when he found a particularly sensitive spot just below the curve of her underarm, her voice would climb to a pitch that seemed impossible, breaking into a series of breathless, silent spasms where she appeared unable to make any sound at all for several seconds before gasping desperately for air.
The flush that had started on her face now spread across her chest and shoulders, her skin glistening with a sheen of perspiration that only made his fingertips glide more smoothly across her hypersensitive armpit. Every nerve ending seemed to fire simultaneously, overwhelming her capacity to process the sensations, leaving her in a state where laughter and distress became indistinguishable from one another.
And then everything stopped abruptly. She appeared utterly defeated, her head slumping forward in exhaustion. The man who had participated introduced himself as Rom. Quenny looked up at him, confused by this unexpected introduction. He leaned closer, gently grasped her chin to lift her face, and simply stared into her beautiful eyes. Despite her disheveled appearance, breathing heavily with perspiration glistening on her skin, her features remained striking. Her face was already flushed from the ordeal, making it difficult to discern if she was blushing, but she was too exhausted to analyze the peculiar moment.
Rom clearly had developed an intense fascination with Quenny's reactions. He departed, and immediately a young woman approached and launched herself at Quenny, grabbing her sides, which made her bounce high up from her seat with a shrill shriek followed by renewed wild laughter. The sudden action caught her off guard as she realized with dismay that her ordeal wasn't over. Several more participants approached, employing various techniques. Some even used a toothpick, repeatedly touching the center of her soles, making her jump reflexively each time. Others took turns at her sides, and some even gently pressed against her neck, resulting in her twitching her neck while wearing an involuntary grin. Quenny seemed destined to endure this for an uncertain duration, becoming the perfect subject for the remaining participants.
Several hours passed before the spectacle finally concluded. Coco and Renee unlocked Quenny's leg restraints and watched as she slumped in the chair, her chest heaving with labored breaths. "You know what, you've earned us considerable revenue. Here, take this—you've earned it," Renee said, placing $200 in Quenny's palm. Quenny was too exhausted to even utter thanks, but she nodded slowly in appreciation.
"Alright, we need to close the store, Quenny," Coco announced.
"Just ten more minutes," Quenny pleaded weakly.
"No, I need to get home soon!" Coco insisted as she poked Quenny's side playfully. The contact gave her a small boost of energy as she jolted upright and quickly, if clumsily, rose from the chair.
"AH! AH! OKAY! AH! HAHA! OKAY, STOP, I'M GOING!" Quenny exclaimed in panic as she continued being prodded on her sensitive sides. As she walked away from them, Renee called out, "If you want to earn more money, you know where to find us!" She didn't acknowledge this and proceeded directly to the mall exit.
She took out her phone and dialed Weiling's number to apologize, knowing her friend must be furious after waiting for her in the parking lot. The phone rang as she reached the parking area, but when she arrived, her car was nowhere to be seen. She scanned the parking lot anxiously but saw no trace of her vehicle. Then Weiling's phone connected: "Hello?" Quenny said tentatively.
"This must be Quenny. Your friend Weiling is with us," an unfamiliar voice responded ominously. "We've abducted your friend and demand $20,000. Do not contact the authorities, or we will harm your friend. You must come alone.”
To be continued-
