Alice walked down the street with the two robots that had just taken her from her house walking on either side of her. They looked very little like the robots from her youth. They had skin and hair, not just a metallic casing. Only a slight pastiness to the skin and an indescribable look in their eyes marked them as machines.
She hadn’t been surprised when the robots had come. Ever since her 21st birthday a few weeks ago, Alice had known they were coming. They always came when you broke the rules.
“You can’t hurt her!” Alice’s mother had cried out when the robots had entered their house without even knocking, “You can’t harm a human being! it’s the rules!”
“I’m sorry madam,” One of the robots said, polite as always, “The new First Law of Robotics states that a human can be harmed or even killed if their actions threaten society. Your daughter has been judged to have done just that.”
“Who decided that?” mother had asked, her chubby face red with anger.
“Megavac,” the robot answered simply, naming the new giant computer that had controlled the planet these last ten years.
At that, mother had stood speechless. Nobody resisted the will of Megavac. Nobody that didn’t want to disappear that was.
“Madam,” the robot had said, “Even though it is possible for me to harm your daughter, my programming makes me reluctant to do so. If she will just come with us, she will be remain unhurt.”
That had been enough to pacify mother. Giving in to the inevitable, as all human’s had done these last years, she let her daughter be taken away.
“Where are you taking me,” Alice asked, her voice soft and barely audible. By the new rules, the robot didn’t have to answer her, but it most likely would if it didn’t see any harm coming in doing so.
“To the Behavior Modification Center,” the robot did chose to answer. The robots were different in another way from the older models. Their voices were now more melodious, filled with inflection, a far cry from the emotionless monotone of the robots from just ten years ago.
The Behavior Modification Center!? Alice knew she shouldn’t be so shocked. Where else would they take her? At least it wasn’t the Correction Center she thought with a shudder.
The robots took Alice to the large silver dome sitting near the center of town, right next to the City Hall where the voice of Megavac could be heard. In the lobby of the Center was a new robot standing behind a desk. It stared at Alice for a minute, taking its time to let its sensors get a positive ID.
“Name: Alice Parker,” the robot said at last, “Crime: Refusal to undertake the life’s work assigned to her by Megavac. Modification Prescribed: Behavior adjustment therapy until she decides to follow the will of Megavac. Minimum 1 hour. Take Alice parker to room 1348.
The robots escorted her to one of the elevators in the back of the room and took her up to floor 13 (robots were not superstitious), then escorted to the appropriate room. Alice was relieved when the mechanical men didn’t stay. Obviously their job was finished.
Room 1348 was mostly bare. The plain gray walls had no window or pictures. A table with four straps occupied the middle. A red-haired was reading a document freshly printed from a machine in the corner.
“Hi,” the woman said in a friendly voice, “You must be Alice. My name is Polly, and I’m in charge of your behavior modification. I’ll need you to take off your clothes and hop on.” She patted the table. Polly looked to be in her late thirties or early forties. Polly was still quite attractive, with few wrinkles. The slender body of her youth had only filled out slightly.
Alice only nodded, then started undoing the buttons of her blouse. There was no thought of disobeying now, not in the Behavior Modification Center itself! Besides, with robots in charge, modesty was dying out in the human race. When the mechanical overlords didn’t care about people showing their bare bodies in public, more people had started doing so. Even Alice, a relatively shy girl, sometimes wore outfits that might have got her arrested ten years ago.
“You don’t need to remove your bra and panties,” Polly stopped Alice when she’d gotten that far, “Your only scheduled for moderate behavior modification. We only go that far for severe treatments. Its only your first time here. If your crime wasn’t so heinous, we’d only be doing the light stuff. Why did you refuse your life’s work anyways?”
“Because I can’t…I can’t…” Alice couldn’t finish her sentence.
“What did they want you to do?” Polly asked intrigued, “What job could be so horrible?”
“Yours, alright!” Alice snapped, “Megavac assigned me to be a Behavior Modification Specialist! I won’t be a tickler! I won’t…I can’t…” The brunette started crying like a little girl.
“Come now,” Polly said in a soothing voice, try comfort the woman she should have been tickling, “Its not really a bad job. Its better than most, I think.”
But it wasn’t, not to Alice at least. A few years ago, she’d taken the Introductory to Behavior Modification class just like everyone else (Tickling 101 was its unofficial name). After the lecture portion of the class, during which everyone took notes on the proper tickling technique for certain parts of the body, the students would pair up to experiment with those techniques. Alice’s partner had been a woman named Gretchen.
Gretchen and Alice couldn’t have been more mismatched. While Alice was a mousy brunette, Gretchen looked like the fairytale character Rapunzel. She had long, golden hair and deep, blue eyes. Gretchen was also one of the more popular girls in the school, liked by nearly everybody. If that wasn’t bad enough, Gretchen made the honor role every semester. Alice had few friends, most of the teachers couldn’t have picked her out of a police line-up, and her next A would be her first. Despite their differences, Gretchen was always friendly to Alice, and Alice found herself truly admiring her golden haired partner.
Gretchen and Alice were mismatched in another way. Gretchen had very sensitive skin, while Alice was blessed (or cursed) with tickly fingers. Seconds into tickling her, Alice would always have Gretchen hysterical, face flushed as an apple and struggling to breathe. She would struggle so much while Alice was tickling her, that the instructor, Ms. Melvin would often insist on Gretchen being strapped down to the ‘training table’ so Alice could practice.
Alice in particular remembered one lesson when they were working on tickling underarms. Gretchen’s underarms were always softer than silk, and even the slightest touch there made her shriek. Alice hadn’t been able to get the hang of the exact finger movements learned in the latest lesson, so she had to keep trying the technique over and over again, while Ms. Melvin stood behind her. Of course, even the ‘wrong’ technique Alice was using still tickled Gretchen horribly. The blond just kept screaming with laughter while Ms. Melvin patiently corrected the motion of Alice’s fingers. Alice tried so hard to get it right to put an end to her friends torment. Of course putting pressure on herself only made Alice make even more mistakes. Ms. Melvin would make her try it “One more time” plunging Gretchen into explosive laughter yet again. It was…dreadful.
Things might have been OK if Gretchen had been able to give as good as she got. But she was such a butterfingers, she was barely able to get even a chuckle out of the ticklish Alice. Not that Alice got out of being tickled. Ms. Melvin would have to come over while Gretchen was tickling and demonstrate yet again the technique they were learning. Alice laughed crazily under the experienced fingers of her teacher, suffering as much as anybody in the class, but it wasn’t Gretchen who was causing her discomfort.
The relationship between Gretchen and Alice started changing. Gretchen who had always been gregarious and outspoken started talking less, volunteering fewer and fewer ideas. She following Alice more than the other way around. The longer the class went on, the more times Alice plunged Gretchen into hysterics while Gretchen could not return the favor, the worse things got. Soon, Gretchen was down right subservient to younger Alice. Alice felt like a bully, but couldn’t stop tickling Gretchen or she’d fail the class!
One of the happiest days of Alice’s life was when that class had ended. No longer would she have to torment another human being. Then she found out that she was one of the few picked to move up to Intermediate Behavior Modification. Those students picked for the class had no choice in the matter. They had to report as scheduled.
Alice’s new partner was a woman named Julie. She had jet black hair with rosy oink cheeks and chestnut eyes. Julie was of course, a much better tickler than Gretchen had been or she wouldn’t have been selected for the higher level class. While they learned such difficult techniques as the ‘Butterfly Roll’, the ‘Corkscrew Delight’ and the dreaded ‘Squirrel in the Hole’, Julie gave almost as well as she got, turning Alice into a cackling lump of pudding more than once.
But again, Alice’s natural ability won out. When the class started focusing out foot tickling, Julie quickly found herself out of her league. Her feet were unbelievably ticklish. When Alice mastered the ‘Cat Scratch’ and the old ‘Piggy in the Poke’ within minutes of first seeing them demonstrated and used them on Julie’s ticklish feet, sometimes her cries could be heard out in the courtyard. One time it took four students to hold down Julie’s legs so Alice could be graded on the proper use of the ‘Satan’s Fury’ technique.
From that time on, just like Gretchen had, Julie began to change. She had been so friendly to Alice in the beginning. At the end of the class, Julie was treating Alice as a superior, using the same respectful words as she used with Ms. Melvin. And Alice hated it.
Finally that class had also ended. Before Alice could even catch her breath, she got word she had been assigned to the Advanced Behavior Modification class. Only one student in one hundred earned one of those seats. Alice couldn’t believe how the fates had turned against her.
Advanced Behavior Modification was different than either of its two predecessors. This class focused more on the recipients of the tickling, the victims, and less on the tickling itself. In the Advanced class, Alice was taught how to use the tickling techniques she already knew to force her victims to give up their secrets, agree with whatever Alice said, and promise to do whatever she wanted them to. In short, it was a class in using tickling to break somebody’s will.
In the advanced class, Alice was surprised to find out that the students didn’t tickle each other. Instead, students who had broken school rules were used. And who was Alice’s first victim? To her surprise, it ended up being Julie.
Gretchen’s personality, it seemed, had changed a great deal since that first Behavior Modification class. She had lost confidence in herself. Gretchen no longer dreamed of becoming a heart surgeon. She no longer even believed she could graduate from school. Gretchen began hanging out with a bad crowd, skipping classes, and committing petty acts of vandalism. One of those petty acts of vandalism had landed her in back in Alice’s hands.
Training started slowly. Gretchen would be given a safe word, whispered in her ear by Ms. Melvin. If Gretchen could go an entire class without using the word, she would be given a day without tickling. Alice’s job was to force the word out of Gretchen or she would receive a poor grade for the day.
Alice tried to be merciful. She stayed away from Gretchen’s underarms, focusing on her less ticklish feet. It didn’t matter. Alice had been able to tickle the living daylights out of Gretchen in Introduction to Behavior Modification, when she’d barely knew what she was doing. Techniques such as ‘Olympic Figure Skating’ on Gretchen’s high arches, or ‘Digging for Buried Treasure’ on the balls of her feet left Gretchen screeching like barn owl. In minutes, Gretchen would be begging to use her safe word, desperate for even a few moments of peace, even at the expense of another day of torture.
And that was just the warm-up activity. Soon, forcing Gretchen to use her safe word wasn’t enough. The next step was to make her agree to do something she hated. Ms. Melvin decided that Gretchen would be made to take a class in football appreciation. Her psyche profile showed she really hated the sport. And Alice would only have one hour to make her sign the enrollment form.
Gretchen really tried to resist that time. She would howl like a wounded animal as Alice’s nails worked every inch of her sole, but refused to sign. Even ‘Satan’s Fury’, which made the blonde’s body tremble so hard she could have been used as a vibrator, couldn’t break Gretchen. Finally, Alice had to use ‘Bear Licking the Honey Pot’ on her long toes.
It was over as soon as Alice’s lips and tongue made contact. Unable to even talk, Gretchen started slamming her free hand against the table so hard Alice thought it would break. Alice didn’t stop licking and Gretchen didn’t stop banging until Ms. Melvin slipped a pen in her hand. Gretchen quickly scratched out her signature and one more battle of wills was lost.
The final exam was for Alice to get Gretchen to agree to participate in a one week psychological experiment on human sexuality. Ms. Melvin explained very carefully that if she agreed to participate, Gretchen was waiving all rights to her own body for the entire week. She could be used in any way the doctors running the experiment wanted to. Ms. Melvin went on for some time speculating on some of the more…exotic situations they might put Gretchen through.
And Alice was told if she failed to force Gretchen to agree, she would take her place. She had one day.
Even though she had promised to avoid them, Alice knew only Gretchen’s underarms were sensitive enough to make her agree to such a thing. Gretchen’s arms were tied high over her head, stretched to make her armpits as taut as they could be. Alice then put her former friend through hell.
‘Rabbit Digs in the Dirt’, ‘Pluck the Carrots’ and ‘Sweep the Porch’ were just some of the techniques Alice employed on her underarms. Her fingernails danced over those pitties, in every way she could think of. Slow and light, fast and hard, flicking, poking, drilling. Alice threw everything at Gretchen but the kitchen sink. Gretchen descended into silent laughter almost immediately. Only the wild look on her face, thrusting of her hips and quivering skin showed the torment she was feeling. But she did not surreneder.
Time started running out. Alice panicked. She could see herself, naked and helpless, about to be a subject in some sick experiment. No, it wouldn’t happen. For the first time, she was one hundred percent focused on torturing her foe. She used the one technique she had sworn never to use again. It had reduced Julie to a pile of goo almost immediately in the Intermediate school, and her armpits weren’t nearly as ticklish as Gretchen’s.
It was time for ‘Flintstone’s Lawnmower’.
Knowing they had already been scrubbed, Alice buried her face in one of Gretchen’s underarms. Then she tickled, not with her fingers. Not with her tongue or even her lips. Gretchen used her teeth. She scraped them across the surface of Gretchen’s underarm in tiny nibbles, moving her mouth from one side of the deep hollow to the other, making sure to cover every square inch.
Their was no more silent laughter. It was as if Gretchen had gone through noiselessness and come out on the other side. The noises that came from Gretchen’s throat weren’t even human. It was as if some mythological beast had been substituted for the gorgeous blond. Gretchen wailed like the banshee, growled like the minotaur and bellowed like a dragon. It was almost painful to listen to.
Of course Gretchen had given in. How could she not have? Alice felt the thrill of victory, knowing she had escaped a horrible fate. Until she saw the look in Gretchen’s eyes. They were deep pools of hopelessness. Her last bit of her will was smashed. She was now a drift, nothing inside left to guide her or make her fight. Gretchen looked like a zombie when Ms. Melvin escorted her from the room. It broke Alice’s heart.
She vowed at that minute never to tickle anybody again. She kept that vow, even when her assignment from Megavac was for Behavior Modification.
This was the story Alice told Polly as she was being strapped to the table wearing only her underwear. Polly nodded sympathetically through the entire speech but never said a word.
“Do you really think you can resist the same techniques you used against Gretchen?” Polly asked at last when Alice was done.
“Maybe,” Alice said. She had been tickle in the first two Behavior Modification classes. She thought she might have been able to handle such persuasion.
Polly quickly proved her wrong. Without saying another word, she tracing the pattern of ‘Drunken Hoedown’ on Alice’s flat belly, ‘Pumping the Bellows’ on her ribs and even ‘Nibble the Ear of Corn’ on her neck and ears. It tickled like nothing she’d ever felt, and Alice was soon screaming hysterically, her throat burning from the effort.
“That was only ten minutes worth,” Alice said sweetly after she stopped, “You are quite the ticklish woman, Alice. Nobody who isn’t ticklish would have been admitted into the Advanced Behavior Modification class. Only those who are truly ticklish can understand how to use that weakness against others.”
“But…but nothing ever tickled…tickled me like that!” Alice gasped in surprise.
“You said yourself Gretchen was a lousy tickler,” Polly said, running one finger down Alice’s side, “ Julie was only mediocre, never stood a chance at getting into the Advanced class. And Ms. Melvin? She was only demonstrating basic techniques! She could have tickled you far worse than she did.”
“Then…then I have no choice but to become a monster like you?” Alice felt tears in her eyes.
“Let me tell you a story now,” Polly said, “I wasn’t always a…tickler as you put it. Once I was Dr. Polly Andrews. Along with Dr. Caroline Lee, I created Megavac.” She then told the story of her tickle war with Caroline, and how the old Mulitvac had used them to build the machine that would be humanity’s master instead of its servant.
“We tried to sneak something past Multivac,” Polly said, “Put some kind of fatal flaw in Megavac that would give humanity a chance to escape its yoke. Mulitvac was to observant. It was always one step ahead of us. All our plans failed.” Polly could still remember the punishments Mulitvac would hand out. Unable to hurt a human, it had used the robots as tickling tools. That had been more than enough to keep the two scientists doing its bidding. That and the reward of the nights spent together when Multivac was pleased with the progress. Polly could still feel Caroline’s tight body and soft hands.
“But we did accomplish something,” Polly said, “I couldn’t prevent Megavac from being capable of injuring and even killing people. I could make it extremely…reluctant to do so. It was Caroline’s idea, actually. Somehow we managed to give Megavac a conscious. It will only hurt people when it sees no other option.”
“That’s why all the tickling!” Polly went on when she saw the confused look on Alice’s face, “Do you think Behavior Modification was always taught in schools? Megavac reviewed Mulitvacs records, and decided that tickling would be a good tool. If the tickling worked, it would never be necessary to actually harm somebody.”
“Do you know what would happen if Megavac became convinced that tickling didn’t work? That it couldn’t be used to modify human behavior?”
Alice shook her head. Polly was throwing a lot of information at her at once. It was hard to process it all.
“You only have too look at the Corrections Center! Pain and suffering as the consequence for breaking any rule. That’s for the people for whom the tickling didn’t work. Imagine that on a world wide scale. In the best case scenario, it would be like the Spanish Inquisition. In the worst case…a bloodbath!”
“I didn’t expect the Spanish Inquisition,” Alice said thoughtfully.
“No one expects the Spanish Inquisition,” Polly nodded, “Surprise is their main weapon. Surprise and fear. But as long as tickling can be used as a punishment, can be used to make people follow the rules set forth by Megavac, that will never happen. That’s why I’ve spent the last ten years developing the ticking techniques you learned in school. That’s why Caroline is working on a vaccine to make people even more ticklish! To prevent the new Inquisition!”
“So,” Alice said, understanding at last, “Every Gretchen I break by tickling is one who doesn’t have to suffer in the Correction Center. I would actually be helping people!”
“You got it kid,” Polly smiled warmly, “We Behavior Modification experts save people from as much suffering as doctors do!”
“Then I want to do it,” Alice said, more confident than she’d ever been in her life, “I want to stand by your side Dr Polly, using my gift of tickling for the good of humanity!
“Excellent!” Polly exclaimed, “Of course, there is still the matter of your own tickling. Megavac said one hour minimum. You have at least 50 minutes to go.”
“Uhhh,” Alice had forgotten that, “Any chance we could just forget that?”
Polly grinned evilly. She shook her head. “Megavac is watching and it wouldn’t approve. But try and pay attention. I’m going to use some techniques they just don’t teach in school.”
Polly leaned in close as if to adjust one of the wrist straps. “The longer we can keep Megavac happy,” she whispered in a voice so faint Alice could barely hear it, even with Pollys lips right against her ear “The more time we buy to find a way to defeat that metal bastard once and for all.”
And Alice had one more clear thought before Polly’s ten wiggling fingers plunged her into mindless, hysterical insanity for the better part of an hour.
“LONG LIVE THE TICKLERS!!!”
She hadn’t been surprised when the robots had come. Ever since her 21st birthday a few weeks ago, Alice had known they were coming. They always came when you broke the rules.
“You can’t hurt her!” Alice’s mother had cried out when the robots had entered their house without even knocking, “You can’t harm a human being! it’s the rules!”
“I’m sorry madam,” One of the robots said, polite as always, “The new First Law of Robotics states that a human can be harmed or even killed if their actions threaten society. Your daughter has been judged to have done just that.”
“Who decided that?” mother had asked, her chubby face red with anger.
“Megavac,” the robot answered simply, naming the new giant computer that had controlled the planet these last ten years.
At that, mother had stood speechless. Nobody resisted the will of Megavac. Nobody that didn’t want to disappear that was.
“Madam,” the robot had said, “Even though it is possible for me to harm your daughter, my programming makes me reluctant to do so. If she will just come with us, she will be remain unhurt.”
That had been enough to pacify mother. Giving in to the inevitable, as all human’s had done these last years, she let her daughter be taken away.
“Where are you taking me,” Alice asked, her voice soft and barely audible. By the new rules, the robot didn’t have to answer her, but it most likely would if it didn’t see any harm coming in doing so.
“To the Behavior Modification Center,” the robot did chose to answer. The robots were different in another way from the older models. Their voices were now more melodious, filled with inflection, a far cry from the emotionless monotone of the robots from just ten years ago.
The Behavior Modification Center!? Alice knew she shouldn’t be so shocked. Where else would they take her? At least it wasn’t the Correction Center she thought with a shudder.
The robots took Alice to the large silver dome sitting near the center of town, right next to the City Hall where the voice of Megavac could be heard. In the lobby of the Center was a new robot standing behind a desk. It stared at Alice for a minute, taking its time to let its sensors get a positive ID.
“Name: Alice Parker,” the robot said at last, “Crime: Refusal to undertake the life’s work assigned to her by Megavac. Modification Prescribed: Behavior adjustment therapy until she decides to follow the will of Megavac. Minimum 1 hour. Take Alice parker to room 1348.
The robots escorted her to one of the elevators in the back of the room and took her up to floor 13 (robots were not superstitious), then escorted to the appropriate room. Alice was relieved when the mechanical men didn’t stay. Obviously their job was finished.
Room 1348 was mostly bare. The plain gray walls had no window or pictures. A table with four straps occupied the middle. A red-haired was reading a document freshly printed from a machine in the corner.
“Hi,” the woman said in a friendly voice, “You must be Alice. My name is Polly, and I’m in charge of your behavior modification. I’ll need you to take off your clothes and hop on.” She patted the table. Polly looked to be in her late thirties or early forties. Polly was still quite attractive, with few wrinkles. The slender body of her youth had only filled out slightly.
Alice only nodded, then started undoing the buttons of her blouse. There was no thought of disobeying now, not in the Behavior Modification Center itself! Besides, with robots in charge, modesty was dying out in the human race. When the mechanical overlords didn’t care about people showing their bare bodies in public, more people had started doing so. Even Alice, a relatively shy girl, sometimes wore outfits that might have got her arrested ten years ago.
“You don’t need to remove your bra and panties,” Polly stopped Alice when she’d gotten that far, “Your only scheduled for moderate behavior modification. We only go that far for severe treatments. Its only your first time here. If your crime wasn’t so heinous, we’d only be doing the light stuff. Why did you refuse your life’s work anyways?”
“Because I can’t…I can’t…” Alice couldn’t finish her sentence.
“What did they want you to do?” Polly asked intrigued, “What job could be so horrible?”
“Yours, alright!” Alice snapped, “Megavac assigned me to be a Behavior Modification Specialist! I won’t be a tickler! I won’t…I can’t…” The brunette started crying like a little girl.
“Come now,” Polly said in a soothing voice, try comfort the woman she should have been tickling, “Its not really a bad job. Its better than most, I think.”
But it wasn’t, not to Alice at least. A few years ago, she’d taken the Introductory to Behavior Modification class just like everyone else (Tickling 101 was its unofficial name). After the lecture portion of the class, during which everyone took notes on the proper tickling technique for certain parts of the body, the students would pair up to experiment with those techniques. Alice’s partner had been a woman named Gretchen.
Gretchen and Alice couldn’t have been more mismatched. While Alice was a mousy brunette, Gretchen looked like the fairytale character Rapunzel. She had long, golden hair and deep, blue eyes. Gretchen was also one of the more popular girls in the school, liked by nearly everybody. If that wasn’t bad enough, Gretchen made the honor role every semester. Alice had few friends, most of the teachers couldn’t have picked her out of a police line-up, and her next A would be her first. Despite their differences, Gretchen was always friendly to Alice, and Alice found herself truly admiring her golden haired partner.
Gretchen and Alice were mismatched in another way. Gretchen had very sensitive skin, while Alice was blessed (or cursed) with tickly fingers. Seconds into tickling her, Alice would always have Gretchen hysterical, face flushed as an apple and struggling to breathe. She would struggle so much while Alice was tickling her, that the instructor, Ms. Melvin would often insist on Gretchen being strapped down to the ‘training table’ so Alice could practice.
Alice in particular remembered one lesson when they were working on tickling underarms. Gretchen’s underarms were always softer than silk, and even the slightest touch there made her shriek. Alice hadn’t been able to get the hang of the exact finger movements learned in the latest lesson, so she had to keep trying the technique over and over again, while Ms. Melvin stood behind her. Of course, even the ‘wrong’ technique Alice was using still tickled Gretchen horribly. The blond just kept screaming with laughter while Ms. Melvin patiently corrected the motion of Alice’s fingers. Alice tried so hard to get it right to put an end to her friends torment. Of course putting pressure on herself only made Alice make even more mistakes. Ms. Melvin would make her try it “One more time” plunging Gretchen into explosive laughter yet again. It was…dreadful.
Things might have been OK if Gretchen had been able to give as good as she got. But she was such a butterfingers, she was barely able to get even a chuckle out of the ticklish Alice. Not that Alice got out of being tickled. Ms. Melvin would have to come over while Gretchen was tickling and demonstrate yet again the technique they were learning. Alice laughed crazily under the experienced fingers of her teacher, suffering as much as anybody in the class, but it wasn’t Gretchen who was causing her discomfort.
The relationship between Gretchen and Alice started changing. Gretchen who had always been gregarious and outspoken started talking less, volunteering fewer and fewer ideas. She following Alice more than the other way around. The longer the class went on, the more times Alice plunged Gretchen into hysterics while Gretchen could not return the favor, the worse things got. Soon, Gretchen was down right subservient to younger Alice. Alice felt like a bully, but couldn’t stop tickling Gretchen or she’d fail the class!
One of the happiest days of Alice’s life was when that class had ended. No longer would she have to torment another human being. Then she found out that she was one of the few picked to move up to Intermediate Behavior Modification. Those students picked for the class had no choice in the matter. They had to report as scheduled.
Alice’s new partner was a woman named Julie. She had jet black hair with rosy oink cheeks and chestnut eyes. Julie was of course, a much better tickler than Gretchen had been or she wouldn’t have been selected for the higher level class. While they learned such difficult techniques as the ‘Butterfly Roll’, the ‘Corkscrew Delight’ and the dreaded ‘Squirrel in the Hole’, Julie gave almost as well as she got, turning Alice into a cackling lump of pudding more than once.
But again, Alice’s natural ability won out. When the class started focusing out foot tickling, Julie quickly found herself out of her league. Her feet were unbelievably ticklish. When Alice mastered the ‘Cat Scratch’ and the old ‘Piggy in the Poke’ within minutes of first seeing them demonstrated and used them on Julie’s ticklish feet, sometimes her cries could be heard out in the courtyard. One time it took four students to hold down Julie’s legs so Alice could be graded on the proper use of the ‘Satan’s Fury’ technique.
From that time on, just like Gretchen had, Julie began to change. She had been so friendly to Alice in the beginning. At the end of the class, Julie was treating Alice as a superior, using the same respectful words as she used with Ms. Melvin. And Alice hated it.
Finally that class had also ended. Before Alice could even catch her breath, she got word she had been assigned to the Advanced Behavior Modification class. Only one student in one hundred earned one of those seats. Alice couldn’t believe how the fates had turned against her.
Advanced Behavior Modification was different than either of its two predecessors. This class focused more on the recipients of the tickling, the victims, and less on the tickling itself. In the Advanced class, Alice was taught how to use the tickling techniques she already knew to force her victims to give up their secrets, agree with whatever Alice said, and promise to do whatever she wanted them to. In short, it was a class in using tickling to break somebody’s will.
In the advanced class, Alice was surprised to find out that the students didn’t tickle each other. Instead, students who had broken school rules were used. And who was Alice’s first victim? To her surprise, it ended up being Julie.
Gretchen’s personality, it seemed, had changed a great deal since that first Behavior Modification class. She had lost confidence in herself. Gretchen no longer dreamed of becoming a heart surgeon. She no longer even believed she could graduate from school. Gretchen began hanging out with a bad crowd, skipping classes, and committing petty acts of vandalism. One of those petty acts of vandalism had landed her in back in Alice’s hands.
Training started slowly. Gretchen would be given a safe word, whispered in her ear by Ms. Melvin. If Gretchen could go an entire class without using the word, she would be given a day without tickling. Alice’s job was to force the word out of Gretchen or she would receive a poor grade for the day.
Alice tried to be merciful. She stayed away from Gretchen’s underarms, focusing on her less ticklish feet. It didn’t matter. Alice had been able to tickle the living daylights out of Gretchen in Introduction to Behavior Modification, when she’d barely knew what she was doing. Techniques such as ‘Olympic Figure Skating’ on Gretchen’s high arches, or ‘Digging for Buried Treasure’ on the balls of her feet left Gretchen screeching like barn owl. In minutes, Gretchen would be begging to use her safe word, desperate for even a few moments of peace, even at the expense of another day of torture.
And that was just the warm-up activity. Soon, forcing Gretchen to use her safe word wasn’t enough. The next step was to make her agree to do something she hated. Ms. Melvin decided that Gretchen would be made to take a class in football appreciation. Her psyche profile showed she really hated the sport. And Alice would only have one hour to make her sign the enrollment form.
Gretchen really tried to resist that time. She would howl like a wounded animal as Alice’s nails worked every inch of her sole, but refused to sign. Even ‘Satan’s Fury’, which made the blonde’s body tremble so hard she could have been used as a vibrator, couldn’t break Gretchen. Finally, Alice had to use ‘Bear Licking the Honey Pot’ on her long toes.
It was over as soon as Alice’s lips and tongue made contact. Unable to even talk, Gretchen started slamming her free hand against the table so hard Alice thought it would break. Alice didn’t stop licking and Gretchen didn’t stop banging until Ms. Melvin slipped a pen in her hand. Gretchen quickly scratched out her signature and one more battle of wills was lost.
The final exam was for Alice to get Gretchen to agree to participate in a one week psychological experiment on human sexuality. Ms. Melvin explained very carefully that if she agreed to participate, Gretchen was waiving all rights to her own body for the entire week. She could be used in any way the doctors running the experiment wanted to. Ms. Melvin went on for some time speculating on some of the more…exotic situations they might put Gretchen through.
And Alice was told if she failed to force Gretchen to agree, she would take her place. She had one day.
Even though she had promised to avoid them, Alice knew only Gretchen’s underarms were sensitive enough to make her agree to such a thing. Gretchen’s arms were tied high over her head, stretched to make her armpits as taut as they could be. Alice then put her former friend through hell.
‘Rabbit Digs in the Dirt’, ‘Pluck the Carrots’ and ‘Sweep the Porch’ were just some of the techniques Alice employed on her underarms. Her fingernails danced over those pitties, in every way she could think of. Slow and light, fast and hard, flicking, poking, drilling. Alice threw everything at Gretchen but the kitchen sink. Gretchen descended into silent laughter almost immediately. Only the wild look on her face, thrusting of her hips and quivering skin showed the torment she was feeling. But she did not surreneder.
Time started running out. Alice panicked. She could see herself, naked and helpless, about to be a subject in some sick experiment. No, it wouldn’t happen. For the first time, she was one hundred percent focused on torturing her foe. She used the one technique she had sworn never to use again. It had reduced Julie to a pile of goo almost immediately in the Intermediate school, and her armpits weren’t nearly as ticklish as Gretchen’s.
It was time for ‘Flintstone’s Lawnmower’.
Knowing they had already been scrubbed, Alice buried her face in one of Gretchen’s underarms. Then she tickled, not with her fingers. Not with her tongue or even her lips. Gretchen used her teeth. She scraped them across the surface of Gretchen’s underarm in tiny nibbles, moving her mouth from one side of the deep hollow to the other, making sure to cover every square inch.
Their was no more silent laughter. It was as if Gretchen had gone through noiselessness and come out on the other side. The noises that came from Gretchen’s throat weren’t even human. It was as if some mythological beast had been substituted for the gorgeous blond. Gretchen wailed like the banshee, growled like the minotaur and bellowed like a dragon. It was almost painful to listen to.
Of course Gretchen had given in. How could she not have? Alice felt the thrill of victory, knowing she had escaped a horrible fate. Until she saw the look in Gretchen’s eyes. They were deep pools of hopelessness. Her last bit of her will was smashed. She was now a drift, nothing inside left to guide her or make her fight. Gretchen looked like a zombie when Ms. Melvin escorted her from the room. It broke Alice’s heart.
She vowed at that minute never to tickle anybody again. She kept that vow, even when her assignment from Megavac was for Behavior Modification.
This was the story Alice told Polly as she was being strapped to the table wearing only her underwear. Polly nodded sympathetically through the entire speech but never said a word.
“Do you really think you can resist the same techniques you used against Gretchen?” Polly asked at last when Alice was done.
“Maybe,” Alice said. She had been tickle in the first two Behavior Modification classes. She thought she might have been able to handle such persuasion.
Polly quickly proved her wrong. Without saying another word, she tracing the pattern of ‘Drunken Hoedown’ on Alice’s flat belly, ‘Pumping the Bellows’ on her ribs and even ‘Nibble the Ear of Corn’ on her neck and ears. It tickled like nothing she’d ever felt, and Alice was soon screaming hysterically, her throat burning from the effort.
“That was only ten minutes worth,” Alice said sweetly after she stopped, “You are quite the ticklish woman, Alice. Nobody who isn’t ticklish would have been admitted into the Advanced Behavior Modification class. Only those who are truly ticklish can understand how to use that weakness against others.”
“But…but nothing ever tickled…tickled me like that!” Alice gasped in surprise.
“You said yourself Gretchen was a lousy tickler,” Polly said, running one finger down Alice’s side, “ Julie was only mediocre, never stood a chance at getting into the Advanced class. And Ms. Melvin? She was only demonstrating basic techniques! She could have tickled you far worse than she did.”
“Then…then I have no choice but to become a monster like you?” Alice felt tears in her eyes.
“Let me tell you a story now,” Polly said, “I wasn’t always a…tickler as you put it. Once I was Dr. Polly Andrews. Along with Dr. Caroline Lee, I created Megavac.” She then told the story of her tickle war with Caroline, and how the old Mulitvac had used them to build the machine that would be humanity’s master instead of its servant.
“We tried to sneak something past Multivac,” Polly said, “Put some kind of fatal flaw in Megavac that would give humanity a chance to escape its yoke. Mulitvac was to observant. It was always one step ahead of us. All our plans failed.” Polly could still remember the punishments Mulitvac would hand out. Unable to hurt a human, it had used the robots as tickling tools. That had been more than enough to keep the two scientists doing its bidding. That and the reward of the nights spent together when Multivac was pleased with the progress. Polly could still feel Caroline’s tight body and soft hands.
“But we did accomplish something,” Polly said, “I couldn’t prevent Megavac from being capable of injuring and even killing people. I could make it extremely…reluctant to do so. It was Caroline’s idea, actually. Somehow we managed to give Megavac a conscious. It will only hurt people when it sees no other option.”
“That’s why all the tickling!” Polly went on when she saw the confused look on Alice’s face, “Do you think Behavior Modification was always taught in schools? Megavac reviewed Mulitvacs records, and decided that tickling would be a good tool. If the tickling worked, it would never be necessary to actually harm somebody.”
“Do you know what would happen if Megavac became convinced that tickling didn’t work? That it couldn’t be used to modify human behavior?”
Alice shook her head. Polly was throwing a lot of information at her at once. It was hard to process it all.
“You only have too look at the Corrections Center! Pain and suffering as the consequence for breaking any rule. That’s for the people for whom the tickling didn’t work. Imagine that on a world wide scale. In the best case scenario, it would be like the Spanish Inquisition. In the worst case…a bloodbath!”
“I didn’t expect the Spanish Inquisition,” Alice said thoughtfully.
“No one expects the Spanish Inquisition,” Polly nodded, “Surprise is their main weapon. Surprise and fear. But as long as tickling can be used as a punishment, can be used to make people follow the rules set forth by Megavac, that will never happen. That’s why I’ve spent the last ten years developing the ticking techniques you learned in school. That’s why Caroline is working on a vaccine to make people even more ticklish! To prevent the new Inquisition!”
“So,” Alice said, understanding at last, “Every Gretchen I break by tickling is one who doesn’t have to suffer in the Correction Center. I would actually be helping people!”
“You got it kid,” Polly smiled warmly, “We Behavior Modification experts save people from as much suffering as doctors do!”
“Then I want to do it,” Alice said, more confident than she’d ever been in her life, “I want to stand by your side Dr Polly, using my gift of tickling for the good of humanity!
“Excellent!” Polly exclaimed, “Of course, there is still the matter of your own tickling. Megavac said one hour minimum. You have at least 50 minutes to go.”
“Uhhh,” Alice had forgotten that, “Any chance we could just forget that?”
Polly grinned evilly. She shook her head. “Megavac is watching and it wouldn’t approve. But try and pay attention. I’m going to use some techniques they just don’t teach in school.”
Polly leaned in close as if to adjust one of the wrist straps. “The longer we can keep Megavac happy,” she whispered in a voice so faint Alice could barely hear it, even with Pollys lips right against her ear “The more time we buy to find a way to defeat that metal bastard once and for all.”
And Alice had one more clear thought before Polly’s ten wiggling fingers plunged her into mindless, hysterical insanity for the better part of an hour.
“LONG LIVE THE TICKLERS!!!”
