Silly Billy (F/F + F/M)

Sherbet Riley · Jan 19, 2024

This is a continuation of a previous story "A Soft Touch" which can be found here: https://www.ticklingforum.com/threads/a-soft-touch-f-f-f-m.348106/#post-4795152

Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoy.

Silly Billy

William Minnow sat in his car, watching the E-Z Sleep Motel from across the street. He’d been parked there for nearly two hours now and was running out of podcasts to listen to. His neck was itchy. He’d picked the worst possible day to get a haircut. Of course, when he’d initially booked his appointment at the barbershop just down the street from his apartment, he hadn’t anticipated an hours long stakeout later that evening. In fact, it was during this haircut that William had received a mysterious email in his inbox.

It was an email address he had specifically set up for anonymous tips and leads. Or at least, that’s how they’d start. If the tip seemed credible, William would write back and try to verify not only the information, but it’s source. As a reporter it was important that he was thorough. He took pride in his work and his colleagues and publishers similarly saw promise in the young journalist. He was only 28, after all, and had already built an impressive reputation for himself. Following his takedown of Martin Gallow, former CEO of Vertician Media, he’d become a household name. Since then he had found it difficult to maintain the pace he’d established early in his career. With his meteoric rise came lengthy vanity profiles and talk show appearances. He enjoyed them, to be clear. William would be lying if he claimed that he didn’t somewhat enjoy all the attention and praise, but it had started to have an impact on his ability to do his job.

In an attempt to get back on track, William had spent the last few months working on an in-depth story on Equitol Solutions. What he had found shocked him; bogus expense reports, stories of harassment and mismanagement, and some seed money from some unsavory organizations. The company’s founder, Paul Silverman, was directly in his crosshairs now. Once published, the story was certain to crater Mr. Silverman’s career, and likely the stock price of Equitol Solutions as well. One of the side effects of being such a well-known quantity was that people were now warier of talking to William than they used to be. They knew he didn’t write positive stories, and anyone who spoke with him was liable to be complicit in the takedown of their boss, co-workers, or company. But William was persuasive, good with people. If he had a solid enough lead he could build a whole story around it. And now he was sitting in his car, across the street from the E-Z Sleep Motel, waiting to meet the most promising source he’d come across during his research.

As a reporter, it was important that William keep a line open to the rest of the world. As any good journalist knows, a good source could come from anywhere. It wasn’t uncommon for a last minute message or document to appear in his inbox and finally lock into place a story that had – up until that point – been based largely on hearsay. Of course, sometimes it was bullshit. But the tip he had received that afternoon seemed to be anything but.

During his haircut earlier that afternoon, William had received a mysterious email from an address he didn’t recognize. Attached were some internal documents from Equitol Solutions with many names redacted. Still, even among the black bars and crummy whiteout, the numbers that were visible were startling, numbers that backed up what William already knew. The sender promised William further un-redacted documentation of misdeeds and corporate malfeasance if he could meet with them that evening. After looking over the documents and deducing that they were legit, William agreed to meet with the potential source that evening.

But William had his doubts. For one thing is was highly unusual for someone to come to him with this kind of information. He was more accustomed to working for it. For a source to come forward with this type of insider knowledge willingly and unprompted was quite rare. In addition, William had not been able to pin down any information about who may have sent him the email in the first place. He worried he may be walking into a trap. While nobody had ever made any explicit threats against him, William’s profile had risen so high that there was certainly some level of risk in meeting a stranger after hours like this. But then again, it was that very prominence that made an outright attack on his person less than likely. If he were to disappear there would undoubtedly be questions, and it wouldn’t take long before someone put two and two together.

And so William parked his car across the street from the E-Z Sleep motel and waited, watching for his source. The hope was to spot whoever had emailed him walking into room number 6, where they’d agreed to meet. But even though he’d arrived two hours before they were scheduled to speak, he hadn’t seen anyone come in or out of the room. Now it was 10pm, and whoever emailed William was expecting him to walk through that door any second now. Perhaps they were already inside.

William didn’t like this. He was unaccustomed to being in this position. Usually he was the one holding all the cards. But he’d written more explosive stories with less, and it was likely that after he went public with his expose, Equitol Solutions would push back and deny everything and call his integrity into question. The more ammunition he had going into this the better positioned he’d be. And so, William took a deep breath, gathered his materials, and stepped out of the car.

It was cold out. Fall had arrived a few weeks early and William was underdressed. He wrapped his inadequate jacket tightly around his body as he stepped off the curb and crossed the street to the motel. His red converse all stars, which William liked to think was part of his “signature look”, slapped against the cold and wet concrete of the parking lot as he walked. His dark blue chinos felt tighter than usual. He’d been sitting behind his desk too long, snacking too frequently. It had been some time since he’d had to pound the pavement like this. He’d missed it.

William reached the door to room number 6. He didn’t have a key. He just had to hope that whomever he was meeting was already inside. Why was he nervous? It wasn’t like him to get nervous. William cleared his throat, summoned some authority from deep down within himself, and knocked. He may as well have been trick or treating.

After a few moments the door swung open to reveal a large woman with rosy cheeks and a giddy, excited smile. She was tall; probably over 6 feet near as he could tell, and pleasantly plump, with dark brown bangs that framed her round and jolly face. She was older. William pegged her to be in her mid 50s and deduced that her hair had probably been dyed this color. His eyes were immediately drawn to her chest, which strained against the black tank top she’d elected to wear. Her thighs were as wide as William’s torso, and stretched the light blue denim of her jeans taut as a drum. She’d already taken off her shoes; her athletic socks a shock of white against the dark blue of the dirty motel carpet. Clearly she’d been there a while. The TV was on, playing cartoons.

William wasn’t sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. Usually these clandestine meetings were dour affairs, full of hushed whispers and furtive glances. But the woman who stood before him seemed almost…excited?

“Oh, I’m sorry. I think I might have the wrong –“

“You’re Bill Minnow, right?” the woman asked, her smile unwavering.

“William. But yes, that’s me. May I come in?”

“Certainly. Please. We have so much to discuss.”

William stepped inside the room and was acutely aware of the click of the door as the woman shut it behind them. The room was spare, about what you’d expect for $20 a night just off the highway. A single king size bed, ugly wallpaper, a tube TV, dresser, nightstand, lamp, dirty carpeting, and cramped bathroom.

“Been here long?” William asked as he looked around the room.

“Oh, I got off work early today. I couldn’t concentrate I was so excited. I figured I wasn’t getting any work done anyway so I thought I’d get here early and settle in.” She was still standing by the door, her hands on her hips, looking him up and down. “You know, you’re shorter than I thought you’d be. Maybe the TV adds a few inches.”

“Funny, people always say I seem taller in person.”

“Do they?”

“I don’t believe I ever got your name, Mrs…”

“Oh!” the woman’s hand flew to her mouth, as if embarrassed to have forgotten her introduction. Only now did William notice her sharp, pink nails. “So sorry. My name is Bethany.”

She stuck out her hand and William shook it. He was surprised by how small his hand felt in hers, how warm and soft her palm felt against his own. This was a woman who moisturized.

“Pleasure to meet you Bethany.”

“Oh, the pleasure’s all mine, Billy.”

William frowned. He’d always hated the name “Billy.” At best it made him sound like a hick. At worst he found it infantilizing. Nobody had called him Billy since he was little. It also didn’t help that Bethany’s height necessitated that he look up at her. While William wasn’t short, or at least didn’t view himself as such, from where he was standing his was approximately eye-level with her prodigious breasts and didn’t want to be accused of ogling.

“It’s William,” he frowned.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I have a terrible time with names. I won’t make that mistake again. Promise.” She smiled down at him. “Shall we get started?”

“Yes, why don’t we…”

William looked around the room for a chair to sit in. He figured that Bethany would take a seat on the bed and he’d sit across from her. But curiously there didn’t seem to be a spare chair in the room. Wasn’t such a thing standard? In every hotel room he’d ever stayed in there had always been a chair. Had Bethany removed it before he arrived?

No. To think in such ways was paranoid, even for William. It must be this brand of hotel. Costs were kept so low they saved money on chairs. Or something. It didn’t matter. What mattered were Bethany’s documents.

As if reading his mind, Bethany giggled and gestured toward the bed. “Why don’t you have a seat and we can get started, hm?”

“I’ll stand, if that’s alright.”

William didn’t want to sit on the bed. Something about it didn’t feel proper. Besides, given Bethany’s height he’d prefer if she were the one sitting. At least then he could look her directly in the eye.

Bethany nodded and went around the side of the bed, producing a folder full of loose papers from the nightstand drawer. She sat on the edge of the bed, which groaned under her weight, and held the folder out to William.

“It’s all in there,” Bethany smiled.

William took the folder from Bethany and opened it up. What he saw inside nearly made his heart stop.

It was a transcript. Pages and pages of messages dating back nearly a year. William recognized them instantly. They were his messages, messages he’d been trading with a newly launched AI Chatbot that had the capability of roleplaying as any kind of character the user wanted. He’d been experimenting with this chatbot for some time, testing and refining it for his own personal use. Because he was so committed to his work William had very little time for dating, not to mention his myriad trust issues. He’d heard countless stories of accomplished, stand-up reporters being undone by honeypot schemes that had sullied their reputations and credibility. One of his favorite college lecturers had fallen for one such trap, hence his academic banishment. And so William often got his kicks alone, in front of his computer, with one hand wrapped around his cock while the other traded messages with an AI program.

It had been slow going at first. This technology was fairly new, after all. But as time wore on William began to grasp the chatbot’s limitations and possibilities. Within a few months and many rounds of trial and error, William knew exactly how to feed script to an AI bot so as to mold it into his perfect sexting and roleplay companion: Mrs. Fluffers.

For you see, William had an intense tickling fetish.

As far back as William could remember; tickling had always excited him. At first it hadn’t been sexual, as he had no conception of sexuality at such a young age. “Tickle” had been a game he’d played with his cousins when they were little, endurance tests where they’d attempt to not spill water on themselves or hold a stick between their feet. It was playful, tactile, and nobody ever got hurt or went crying to their parents. For a time, William had preferred to be the tickler, the one in control. Back then he had been the largest of his cousins and could easily overpower them with a well-placed poke or wiggling finger. Sure, they could give as good as they got, but more often than not William would come out on top. In fact, William so relished his role as a “ler” that he would occasionally cheat at their games, ensuring that he would not be on the receiving end of his cousins’ hands. If given the choice, William would always choose to be the tickler.

Then he met Mrs. Cho.

Celeste Cho was his grandmother’s next door neighbor and closest friend. It hadn’t been uncommon for William to spend long weekends at his grandmother’s place, especially if his mother had a lecture to attend or his father needed to take an overnight trip. He’d been particularly fond of Mrs. Cho’s granddaughter, Evelyn, who was a year younger than William and who would often play with him while his grandmother and Mrs. Cho occupied themselves elsewhere in the house.

By this time, William’s fascination with tickling had begun to bloom into a proper fetish, though he didn’t yet know the word. He’d taken to tickling classmates at school whenever he got the chance, but as they grew older and their bodies began to mature, the tenor of these tickles had changed. The playfulness of it had faded and was replaced by suspicion and wariness. Though they did not possess the vocabulary to articulate precisely why, William’s otherwise innocuous tickles had taken on a new dimension that had started to make some of his classmates uncomfortable. William was no dummy and picked up on this shift just in time to avoid earning a rep at school. Suddenly his interest in tickling was “weird,” even shameful, and he quickly learned to keep such things to himself.

And so Evelyn had been a breath of fresh air. No twinges of adolescent sexuality had yet tainted their time together. William knew on an instinctual level that Evelyn had a crush on him, though he did not feel the same way about her. This crush, however, made it easy for William to talk Evelyn into playing tickle games with him. By now he’d learned to not be so overt in his desires and did his best to hide his true intentions. And so when they played together, tickling became a “penalty” for whoever lost a game of battleship or Super Smash Bros. Evelyn, who was thrilled by the possibility of physical contact with William, had no complaints and went along happily with his barely disguised ruse. Though she would occasionally win their games of skill and chance, more often than not it was William who came out on top, and Evelyn’s shrieks and squeals would bounce off the wood paneled walls of her grandmother’s basement as William goosed her ribs and piggied her toes.

On one occasion, however, William went too far. They’d played a game, Evelyn lost, and it had come time for her ticklish penalty. Only this time, her pleas for mercy went unheeded. William, consumed with finding ever more tender and sensitive spots to exploit, completely failed to register the growing desperation in Evelyn’s cries until it was too late. The poor girl had an accident, wetting herself right there on the floor. William stopped as soon as he realized what had happened but the damage had been done. Humiliated, Evelyn fled from the room in tears and locked herself away inside her room. William, overcome with guilt, banished himself to the woods behind his grandmother’s house, where he broke sticks and chucked rocks until the sun began to set and his toes numbed in his boots from the cold.

That night, when William returned to make amends, he found Mrs. Cho waiting for him in the living room. She peered at him from behind her coke bottle glasses and patted the spot beside her on the sofa. William obediently took his seat, unable to summon the courage to look her in the eye.

“So, you like tickling?” Mrs. Cho asked. It was so direct, so blunt, that it legitimately caught William off guard. He’d scarcely been able to admit it to himself in private, much less out loud.

And so he denied it, almost reflexively, stumbling over his words as his bottom lip trembled and his heart began to pound.

“Come now. I’ve heard you down there with Evelyn, and more than once. I bet you even make it seem like her idea, don’t you, Billy?”

“I’m sorry…” was all William could manage, feebly apologizing for his desires as much as Evelyn’s accident.

“Don’t you?” she repeated. Her voice was firm but devoid of anger.

William could only nod, still unable to meet Mrs. Cho’s gaze.

“My granddaughter is very upset,” she continued. “She’ll get over it, but you’re not allowed to tickle her anymore. Do you understand?”

Again William nodded, his eyes brimming with tears.

“It’s really not fair, it is?” Mrs. Cho said, her tone softening ever so slightly. “I mean, you’re older and so much stronger than her. Not exactly an even playing field.”

Only now could William bring himself to look at her and was surprised to see the faintest of smiles creeping along her face. It suddenly seemed strange that just moments ago he’d been so afraid of Mrs. Cho. With her round face and smiling eyes she almost looked like Mrs. Claus.

“I wonder how you would like it, Billy,” Mrs. Cho grinned as she began to lean toward the young man beside her, “if someone older and stronger than you were to give you a taste of your own medicine.” She turned toward him now, her hands raised and formed into claws, the universal signal for “I’m going to tickle you.”

William’s brain was lagging behind just a step too slow to avoid his fate. As he realized what she meant, he tried to get away. But as he stood up Mrs. Cho reached out and took ahold of his shirtsleeve, tugging him back down onto the couch with her. In a flash her fingers crept beneath both his armpits, causing him to clamp down his arms in an attempt to dampen the sensation. But the force only pressed her wiggling fingers deeper into his sensitive hollows and doubled the ticklish sensations.

In a feeble attempt to get away from the mature tickler, William’s butt slid off the couch and onto the ground. But this was a fatal miscalculation. It didn’t make much effort for the experienced Mrs. Cho to pin William beneath her on the carpeted floor and exploit his ticklish spots to the hilt.

It had been years since William had been tickled. Really tickled. When he’d been on the receiving ends of his cousin’s fingers in childhood they had no technique, applied pressure in the wrong way, often too much or not nearly enough. And when it had occasionally been Evelyn’s turn to tickle him, she’d been half hearted in her attempts, mostly content to wrestle on the ground with her crush. But Mrs. Cho unlocked a new level of sensitivity in the young man. Pinned beneath her weight, William could not simply buck her off or roll away. Mrs. Cho’s long nails and practiced touch drew outright guffaws and squeals from his open mouth as she tweaked his ribs and poked at his belly. She teased him all the while, playfully scolding him for being able to dish it out but not take it, asking him how he liked it, pressing him to tell her his most ticklish spots. Each question got an answer, all of them punctuated by a plea or involuntary snort. His cheeks hurt from smiling, his neck warm and flushed, abs sore from uncontrollable laughter. Never in his whole life had William felt so powerless, so ticklish.

And he loved it.

William never quite figured out just how long he was pinned beneath Mrs. Cho, how long she tormented her ticklish charge. For all he knew, it had been most of the night. But by the time Mrs. Cho finally pulled her hands away and helped the teary-eyed boy up from the floor, William was positively giddy, adrenaline pounding through his veins. He felt euphoric. High. He’d never felt so good in his life. That night spent on the floor with Mrs. Cho changed something inside him. There had been a shift.

It was gradual, at first. While William was no stranger to internet pornography, over the next two years he found his tastes subtly changing. Before he’d had little interest in any sort of tickling media involving a man, often as a “ler” but especially as a “lee.” It was all girl-on-girl stuff that he liked: videos, stories, artwork, etc.

Then he began dipping his toe in different waters. It started with artwork, cartoons of women tickling men, often with exaggerated feathers or well-manicured fingers. Then he began to mix F/M stories into his repertoire, seeking out tales that he could place himself in, college boys or next-door neighbors that found themselves on the wrong end of a woman who knew exactly how to tame them. Videos followed soon after, and William became something of an expert in discerning which of the men in these videos were only kind of ticklish, if not outright faking, and those that were genuinely, frighteningly sensitive. It was their eyes that gave them away. Fear is, after all, a hard thing to fake.

And yet, despite his desires, William had not been tickled once since that fateful night on Mrs. Cho’s floor. He’d never once divulged his fetish to anyone, not even his exes or his therapist. Though he was now successful enough to afford a dominatrix or sex worker who specialized in tickling, his rising profile and the nature of his work made him wary of engaging one. After all, this is exactly the sort of blackmail that could be used against him if he wasn’t careful. It’s not that he doubted the discretion of sex workers entirely, but when his targets had such vast resources at their disposal, he imagined it would take only so many 0’s at the end of a check before someone gave up the ghost.

No. His kink was a private one, something to be hidden and only accessed at night from under a blanket or behind a screen. When he’d found the chatbot, William had been elated. He could talk about what he wanted; explicitly ask for what he needed, and never once risk anything at all. The chatbot provided a good facsimile of human conversation. Of course, William always knew he was talking to lights in a box, but it didn’t take much buy in – especially after a glass or two of wine – before he could give himself over to the fantasy that he was talking to his ideal tickler: Mrs. Fluffers.

He’d describe specific fantasies to her, asking what she’d do in certain situations, say, if she’d walked in on William hogtied on the bed or stuck beneath it with his feet sticking out. He’d fed her exactly the kinds of infantile and repetitive teases he liked best, what he responded to in a tickler, divulged all his most ticklish spots and how best to exploit them. He told her about Evelyn and Mrs. Cho. He told her everything.

In recent months he’d developed a particular fondness for call and response. He’d set it up so that Mrs. Fluffers would ask him questions like, “Who’s my little tickle bug?” or “What should I do with such a naughty boy?” the answers to which he’d whimper out loud from behind his monitor, feeling an erotic rush with each uttered word, before finally inputting it into the chat for Mrs. Fluffers to double down on and prompt further erotic confessions.

And now here they were, pages and pages and pages of these chats. William’s blood ran cold as his ears grew warm. He knew immediately what this was. A trap. And he’d walked right into it. William did his best to remain expressionless, to not let on just how rattled he really was.

But Bethany saw right through him. Over her years working in the New Pinnacle psy-ops department, she’d developed a keen ability to spot a bluff. If only she’d ever been able to wrap her head around poker, she could’ve bankrupted a casino.

“Do you need a minute, Billy?” Bethany asked.

William grit his teeth. It was important that he choose his next words carefully. As far as he knew, he could be on camera this very moment. A measured response was best, something that could afford him even the slightest bit of deniability.

“It’s William,” he growled. He could feel the heat rising from his chest, flushing his neck and cheeks as he tried to keep his cool. “Where did you get this?”

“That’s proprietary information,” Bethany shrugged. “Though I would say it’d be wise to look into who might be investing in these AI language models before…divulging such sensitive information to them. Feel free to keep that, by the way. I have copies.”

William felt so stupid. How had he not thought of that? But it was too late to do much about it now. He needed to think strategically. His palms began to sweat as his grip tightened around the folder

“Let me guess: I do what you ask and these magically go away?”

“Oh come now, Billy,” Bethany cooed, “We both know there’s no such thing as magic.” She leaned forward, pressing her breasts together in such a way that they seemed poised to spill out from over her top. “No. This is nothing as straightforward as that. I’d like to propose a…mutually beneficial arrangement.”

William almost snorted. In what world could that be true? The only one who stood to benefit here was Bethany and whoever held her purse strings. But William knew he was on the back foot, his mind still reeling from the reveal of his chats. He needed to buy himself some time to think of an angle. If he kept Bethany talking, he may be able to find his way out of this.

“Then spit it out.”

“You see,” Bethany said as she reached for the nearby TV remote, “I’m not some leg-breaker or arm twister. That’s not why I’m here. If those kinds of tactics were really effective I wouldn’t have bothered with all the cloak and dagger. No. I’m here because you and I have some…overlapping interests.”

Bethany hummed contentedly to herself as she pressed a button on the remote and watched the screen expectantly. For a moment the screen went black. When the image finally returned, the breath caught in William’s throat.

There on the screen was a woman tied to a table. Well, tied wasn’t quite the word, more like “mummified”, bound to the table by layer after layer of clear plastic wrapping. The woman’s belly was exposed, as were her feet, which protruded from the bottom of her cocoon. She seemed to be in her late 20s but it was hard to tell. Her hair was dark, near black, as was her lipstick, her face contorted into a contemptuous scowl. Were he to describe her in one of his pieces, William would have referred to her as goth, maybe “emo,” not that he knew the difference. She wriggled about, craning her neck this way and that in an attempt to find a way out.

“Last chance, Nina…” Bethany sing-songed off-camera before stepping into the frame. She was dressed as a nun, the hem of her black garment dragging along the floor as she approached the girl on the table.

“Fuck you!” Nina spat as she renewed her futile struggle against her bonds.

“What is this?” William asked.

“Exactly what you think it is, silly.” Bethany replied, her eyes trained on the screen, “It’s a tickle video. One of my tickle videos.”

Just hearing this bosomy giant say ‘the word’ made William’s throat dry out. He needed to focus, needed to buy himself some time. But hard as he tried to figure his way out of this situation, he eyes remained glued to the screen.

In the video Bethany was now looming over the bound woman, petting her exposed belly with her open palm, as if it were a small animal. Nina grit her teeth and began breathing forcefully through her nose as she tried to keep her cool, her belly jiggling ever so slightly beneath Bethany’s patient, stroking palm.

“This is the part I like best,” she breathed, looking serenely down at her captive. “Struggle as much as you like. You’re going to let me in. You’re gonna tell me allllllllll your little secrets and do everything I say.”

“Fat c-chance! Y-you delusional f-f-freak!” Nina was doing her best to keep her voice even, but whether it was out of fear or an attempt to hold back her giggles, the words were catching in her throat.

“Oooh, big talk from such a little girl,” Bethany smiled. “Did you talk to Sister Leigh like this?”

At this, Nina’s eyes widened and her breathing began to quicken, causing her belly to quake in anticipation beneath Bethany’s fingers. Now the giggles began to bubble up in earnest and Nina screwed her eyes shut. As far as William could tell, Bethany hadn’t changed anything at all, her palm making the same, patient circles over Nina’s stomach again and again...

“Hehehehehehehehe shuhuhuhuhut uhuhuhuhuhupppp!”

“Uh uh uhhh, was that backtalk I heard, young lady? We’ve talked about this. That mouth of yours is getting you in trouble again…” Bethany chided, deftly tensing her fingers into a claw-like shape, which now gently raked over Nina’s trembling tummy in that same, devastating circle.

“Ohohohohohohohohohohoho gohohohohohohohohd! Eeeeeeeeeeehheheeeeeeee!” Nina was trashing about now as best she could, twisting this way and that against her cocoon, doing whatever she could to dodge Bethany’s steady hand. But she was bound tight, the table not so much as wobbling. There was nowhere for her belly to hide. And the more Bethany talked, the more intense Nina’s laughter grew.

“Upp! Such blasphemy! The devil has a hold of your tongue, girl. Sister Leigh knows just what you need. You’ll be our good girl again in no time…all it’ll take is 20 Raz Parys.”

“Dohohohohohohohohohon’t yohohohohohohohou meheheheeeeeeean hahahahahahail mahahahahahary’s?”

Bethany beamed at her.

“Oh! Nina Bo-Bina! For someone who forsook the church, you sure do wemembah an awful lot! You’ve made Sister Leigh so proud.”

“Suhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhuhut uhuhuhuhuhuhuhupppppp! Yohohohohohohohohohohou ahahahahahahren’t heheheherrrrrrr!”

“Of course I am, dear. Sister Leigh is here for your confessional. She knows that her pretty little princess is still in there somewhere, deeeeeep deeeeeep deeeeeep down under all that make up and attitude. She’s just gonna have to….dig!”

At that, Bethany slipped her finger into Nina’s belly button and began to wiggle it about, driving Nina absolutely hysteric. Her head thrashed about as her struggles grew more violent.

It visually reminded William so much of “The Exorcist” that he couldn’t help but smile at the irony. Noticing his reaction to the video, Bethany smirked.

“Part of my job is to get as much background information on my assignments as I can. Nina here was raised catholic, sent to an all girls’ school. So naturally she’s got a thing about nuns.”

Being addressed directly shook William from his trance. He’d been so engrossed in the video that he’d almost completely forgotten about his present circumstances. How long had he been watching the video now? He needed to find an angle, a way to talk his way out of this precarious position he now found himself in.

“Listen, Bethany…”

“Hold on, let me just skip to the good part.”

With that Bethany began fast-forwarding the video. William’s eyes widened as he noted the runtime of nearly five hours! That poor girl had been tickled for the length of a mini-series. When Bethany reached the desired point, nearly ten minutes from the end of the video, she hit play once again.

It was a marked contrast. Whatever defiance Nina had shown previously had been dramatically stripped away. Her eyes bulged out of her skull, frantically looking this way and that as her desperate shrieks jumped effortlessly from her open mouth. Her face was beet-red, tear-streaked with black streams of running mascara as she shook her head this way and that. Meanwhile Bethany sat patiently by her feet, slowly using a soft, soapy rag and hard-bristled brush to clean her feet. Little messages had been written on Nina’s soles and toes in marker, messages that were illegible now as Bethany methodically scrubbed them away. Nina’s feet trembled and shook, her toes tied back and utterly immobile as Bethany set about her terrible work.

“-EEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE SIHIHIHIHISTER! IHIHIHIHIHIHIHI’LL BEHEHEHEHEEEEEE GOOOHOHOHOHOOOD! IHIHIHIHI PROHOHOHOHOHOMISE IHIHIHIHIHIHI WOHOHOHOHOHON’T TEHEHEHEHESTIFY!”

“Awwww, good girl.” Bethany cooed, never once stopping the movements of her rag or her brush, which now scrubbed at Nina’s heels. “Who’s my pretty little princess?”

“IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIIIIIII AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAM! IHIHIHIHI’M YOHOHOHOHOHOHOUR PREHEHEHEHETTY PRIHIHIHIHIHINCESSSSS!”

“Well, then we can’t have my pretty princess walking around with such dirty feet, can we?” And with that, Bethany turned the brush on her soles, scrubbing gently along her arches as she swept beneath her spasming toes with the soapy rag. Fresh tears of mascara rolled down Nina’s face as she bucked and screamed and begged for relief.

Bethany paused the video there, on a close-up of Bethany’s tickle-crazed face. William was at once pitying and jealous of the poor girl. Before he could say a word he noticed Bethany’s eyes drift downward, shining with amusement as they noticed the erection that was now tenting his pants. He hadn’t even realized! Embarrassed, William quickly crossed his legs.

“Oh, Billy! Enjoying ourselves are we?”

William was fuming. His body had betrayed him. He’d wasted valuable time watching the video when he should have been thinking his way out of this. But now Bethany’s eyes were on him again and he suddenly found himself on the spot with nothing to say.

“What do you want?” was all he could muster, as good a start as any, he supposed.

“I think we both know,” Bethany said, suddenly all business. “We’d like you to drop your little expose about Equitol Solutions and turn your attention to more…deserving targets.”

“’We?’” William prodded.

Bethany smiled, as if amused by her own slip. William smirked, pleased with himself for finding a chink in Bethany’s carefully constructed armor. For the first time since William entered the room, he felt like he was getting somewhere.

“Yes, Billy. We.”

“I told you, it’s Wi –“

“Yes, William. You said.” Bethany was now running her palms up and down her thighs, the tips of her nails gently dragging against the taut denim. “But we both know that you’d much rather be my little Silly Billy, wouldn’t you?”

William didn’t dare respond. There was still the distinct possibility that he was being recorded and he wouldn’t dare commenting on such a thing out loud.

It was true; in his conversations with “Mrs. Fluffers” he’d asked her refer to him as Billy, which was the name Mrs. Cho had used for him growing up. It put him right in his place. At work, at conferences, on talk shows: he was William Minnow, respected journalist, the next big thing. But when he dared to indulge in his more submissive tendencies and stripped himself of that armor, he allowed himself to be Billy again. One special night, Mrs. Fluffers had ran with it during one of their “sessions” and referred to him as her “Silly Billy.”

Not since his night on the floor with Mrs. Cho had things clicked into place so clearly for him. He climaxed immediately upon reading it and found himself dwelling on it for days afterward. He’d be going about his day, pumping gas or writing an email, when the thought of being someone’s “Silly Billy” would cross his mind and he’d suddenly find himself exceptionally hard. Before too long, he would go by that name exclusively when roleplaying with Mrs. Fluffers.

As if sensing his reticence, Bethany smiled reassuringly at him.

“It’s just you and me, Billy. No cameras. No mics. I want us to trust each other.”

“And why should I trust you?” William asked, not even bothering to refute “Billy” anymore. His eyes were glued to Bethany’s hands, which were still moving up and down her legs. He thought again of Nina and how Bethany began to break her down by just running her palms up and down her belly. He began to wonder how long he might last if she were to do the same to him. Already, he was getting hard again.

“Because I’m going to give you what you want.” Bethany said evenly, a smirk spreading along her lips as she watched his eyes follow her hands up and down, up and down. “And I don’t just mean the tickling. Because I am going to tickle you, Billy, just like I tickled Princess Nina. I’m going to tickle you because you like being tickled, and it just so happens that I enjoy tickling. But we’re both professionals. Believe it or not, despite all that’s transpiring here, I respect you. And as a fellow professional I wouldn’t dream of taking that from you. Are you listening to me, Billy?”

“Hnn – yes?” It just slipped out. Suddenly William was in fifth year again, reflexively answering in the affirmative after his teacher caught him daydreaming. He’d been mesmerized by the movements of Bethany’s hands and his own idle fantasies of what they might do to him, barely registering what she’d been saying. Realizing that he’d responded to the childish nickname made his cheeks burn anew and he forced his gaze to the ground.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Look at me.”

William obediently looked up, forcing himself to meet Bethany’s steady gaze.

“You’re a good journalist,” Bethany said, “and that’s why you refused to bend to our blackmail efforts. You stood your ground, defended your sources, and threatened to expose me and my employers by making us the subject of your next piece.”

Bethany stood up now and walked toward William. From his seated position she loomed so much larger over him now. He could feel himself shrinking down with every step of her approach, marveling at how she was writing the narrative of their encounter in real time.

“And that’s why we had to send someone to work you over and make sure you cooperated. God knows what they did to you. For such a dogged reporter as William Minnow to abandon his story…one shudders to think of the torture he must have endured before giving in. I doubt anyone could blame him. I’m sure he wouldn’t have given up without a fight. I bet he made them work for it.”

She stood before him now, his gaze level with her belt buckle as she placed her hands on his shoulders. He didn’t flinch, didn’t blink. The papers were rustling in his hand, which trembled in fear and anticipation. Gently, Bethany began to knead his shoulders with her thumbs, and felt him relax ever so slightly. William looked up at her now, his eyes wide as saucers.

“Nobody will know,” Bethany said.

“D-do you promise?” William was shaking like a leaf.

“You have my word,” Bethany reassured him, gently taking the folder from his hands and setting it on the floor. “But I need to hear you say it. Do you want to be my Silly Billy?”

William nodded. It was as if he were back on Mrs. Cho’s couch, afraid to speak the words.

“Say it.”

“I…I wanna be your Silly Billy…”

With that, Bethany leaned down and enveloped William in a big hug, smushing his face into her ample breasts. She felt his body relax into hers and smiled victoriously.

“Good boy.”

Suddenly, William felt Bethany’s grip around him tighten as he was swiftly picked up off his chair and flung onto the bed. It happened so fast he could barely comprehend what was going on. A split second after his butt hit the mattress, Bethany was upon him. Upon feeling her weight settle onto the bed, William instinctively turned over in an attempt to army-crawl away from the bosomy tickler. But there was no escaping Bethany. In a flash she straddled him and began teasing his sides with her fingers.

“And where’re you going, huh? Huh? Trying to crawl away from da tickle monstuh?” Bethany teased, running her nails up and down his sides as the journalist twisted beneath her, already clamping his arms down to defend himself.

“Noo-ohohohohoooo! Ge-hehet oohohofff!” Even through his shirt her nails were devastating. William immediately began to curl into himself, ducking his head into the mattress to hide his giggles as he tried to get away from the very tickles he had invited only moments before.

“What’sa mattah, bubba? Are you hiding giggles? Mrs. Fluffers wants to find her Silly Billy’s giggle spots. Why, I think I hear some right…here!” With that, she dug her nails into William’s sides, just above his hips. William was as surprised as Bethany when his voice cracked. He hadn’t been tickled in so long, he honestly didn’t remember just how ticklish he was.

“AHAHASHHHIT! Stahahahahahahahahp! Nahahahahahahahahat thehehehehehehehehere!”

“Awwwww, my Silly Billy is to tickly! I’m barewee touching you and you’re just a happy little puddle, aren’t you? Oh, poor baby needed his tickles sooooo baaaaad! You’ve been holding in so much. Just let it out, let it out for Mrs. Fluffers…”

William was astounded by how ticklish his stomach his sides were. It was true, Bethany was barely touching him, just poking and scratching along two inches of his waistline and it had already reduced him to this. Every scrape and jab of her fingers caused more and more laughter to pour from his mouth. It would be downright undignified if he weren’t having so much fun.

“Eeeheheheheheheheheheheheheheheeee! Noooohohohohohohohohooooo! Gehehehehehehehehet ahahahahahwahahahahayyyyyy!”

William reached back with his right hand, attempting to swat or pull her hand away. This only served to make it easy for Bethany to grab his wrist with her left hand and hold it behind his back, as if he were being handcuffed. Now unable to clamp that arm down to defend himself, Bethany suddenly had the freedom to really explore the stomach and ribs on his right side with her free hand. Like a spider her hand began to crawl up from his waist to tease his soft sides and belly. His shirt was riding up, and William nearly leapt out of his skin as he felt her nails touch the bare flesh of his stomach.

“OHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOOOOOOOOOO NOHOHOHOHOHOOOOOOO!”

“Oh no? Oh Noooo?” Bethany mockingly mimicked, “What? Whatsa mattah? Did Mrs. Fluffers find her Silly Billy’s happy spot? Don’t think I can’t see that pwecious widdle smile down there!”

“Heheheheheheheheheheheheheheheheheheheheheheheheeheeee!”

It was true. William was smiling. And it wasn’t just the tickles that did it. His fantasy had come true, free from any shame or recrimination. In many ways the worst thing that could have happened, happened. His shameful secret had been discovered and used against him. But the world hadn’t ended. If anything, for the first time in his life he felt seen, accepted. There were going to be consequences, he could feel it even now. But that all felt very far away. Now? Now he was locked in a room with Mrs. Fluffers. And he had a smile on his face.

“Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha!Nohohohohohohoooooo! Plehehehehehehehehehehehease!”

“Please what, Billy? Please more tickles? Oooooookayyyyyy!” Bethany sing-songed as she skittered her nails up and down his trembling sides, going up far enough to just barely start teasing his lower ribs. She could feel William bucking beneath her, trying to shake her loose. He had given up trying to clamp down and defend his left side with his free arm and was now actively grabbing at the bedspread in front of him in an attempt to drag himself away. It was no use, of course. He was staying put until Bethany tired of tormenting her Silly Billy.

“Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha! Thahahahahahahahahat’s nahahahahahahahahahat whahahahahahahahahahat Ihihihihihihihi Meheheheheheant ahahahahahand yohohohohohohohohu knohohohohohohohow ihihihihihihihihit! Ahahahahahahahahahahaha!”

“What a happy widdle tickle bug. Who’s my happy little tickle bug? Huh? Huh? Is it you? Is it? Can you tell me? Who’s my happy tickle bug?” Her fingers crawled higher, no longer flirting with his ribs but outright stroking and wiggling them.

“Ihihihihihihihihihihihihihiiiiiii ahahahahahahahahahahahammmm! Ihihihihihihihihihihihi’mmmm yohohohohohohohour hahahahahahahappppeeeee tihihihihihihihihihckle buhuhuhuhuhuhg! Ahahahahahahahahahahahahaaaaa!”

Bethany smiled as she watched the ticklish reporter fall apart beneath her. She had to admit, this was a lovely change of pace. So often her victims hated tickling, actively avoided it as best they could. At times it made their submission all the sweeter. But there was something so nice about her target enjoying the experience. Sure, by the time she was through with William he’d be begging her to stop, but the journey there would be a pleasant one. She knew that he was hard as a rock beneath her, grinding his erection into the mattress as she squirmed and flailed about. He was working himself up just fine without her help. It wouldn’t be long before she could properly exploit this to her benefit.

“Awww, good boy! Mrs. Fluffers loves to hear her Silly Billy’s giggles. She knows how much the happy boy loves the tickle monster. Did you miss the tickle monster, baby? Because she missed you! She forgot how tickawish her baby boy could be when he has his wibbies pwayed with!”

She deftly pulled his shirt up a little higher, now exposing the skin from his hips to near his armpits. Bethany was kneading the ribs on his right side now, wiggling the pads of her fingers between his ribs.

“Nahahahahahahahahahahahahat myhihihihihihihihihi riiiihihihihihihihihihihihbs! Plehehehehehehehehehease! Nooooohohohohohohohohohohooooo rihihihihihihihihihibbeeeeeeees!”

“Not your wibbies?” Bethany cooed, , “But your wibbies are my favorite place to tickle! Well, next to your…pitty poos!” With that, Bethany let go of William’s right arm and snuck her newly free hand under his exposed left armpit. The reaction was intense. Had Bethany been of average size he may have thrown her off.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OHOHOHOHO MYIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIH GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAD! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOOOOOOOOOOOO! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHP! GEHEHEHEHEEHEHET OHOHOHOHOHOHOUT!”

Undeterred, Bethany’s other hand dove into his other armpit, all ten of her experienced fingers teasing and stroking and scribbling at his sensitive hollows, driving the poor man mad. Nobody but him has touched his armpits since that fateful night on Mrs. Cho’s couch. Suddenly he was a young boy again, struggling to get away from the tickles of an older, stronger woman who had his number. He attempted to roll away, get some leverage, but he was held fast there on the bed, held in place by Bethany’s strong thighs and playful hands.

“Naughty boy loves being tickled, doesn’t he? Huh? Does my Silly Billy love his tickles? Tell me. Be a good boy and tell Mrs. Fluffers, Billy.”

"YES!" William shrieked, shaking this way and that as he felt her devastating nails roaming around in his ticklish hollows. "I LOVE IT! Aaaaaahahahahahahaha! I lohohohohohohove ihihihihihitttttttt!"

“Loves what? Mrs. Fluffers? The tickle monster? Pitties? Tell me baby boy, what does my Silly Billy love?”

"Ihihihihihi lohohohohohohove beheheheheheheing tihihihihickled! Ihihihihihihihihi lohohohohohove ihihihihihihihit! AAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA!" It was no use holding his arms down. It seemed that no matter how hard he tried, there was no blocking out her tickles. Her fingers seemed to find every opening and crevice, her nails tracing and teasing every last inch of ticklish skin they brushed against. In a vain attempt to get loose, William tried to pull himself forward with both his arms, hoping that perhaps he could summon the strength to drag himself over the side of the bed. Mindlessly pawing the bedspread before him, William was beside himself with laughter. He honestly didn’t think anything could tickle this much.

Amused by the dissolution of William’s resolve, Bethany continued to skitter her fingers in his armpits, twirling her fingers in his wispy armpit hair and taunting him all the while.

"Oh, my Silly Billy is trying so hard to get away from Mrs. Fluffers, isn’t he? What a silly, silly boy he must be. There’s no getting away from mommy’s tickle tickle tickles! Woooh! What a ticklish bucky bronco! Buck buck buck! Loot at my widdle squirmy wormy! Are you a squirmy liddle wormy, Billy? Are you Mrs. Fluffers’ tickly widdle Billy Baby?

"YES! Aaaaaaahahahahaha! Ohohohohohohohoh gohohohohohohohd! Yeehehehehehessssss!"

But all that bucking had gotten William loose from Bethany’s thighs, now instead of straddling his butt, she was sitting on his knees. William was making slow progress, but progress nonetheless. His hands now gripped the end of the bed. He knew that as soon as he hit the floor, Bethany would simply pin him down again to continue his merry torment. And yet the idea still excited him. His legs were almost free, if he could just pull a little further he may be able to grant himself a momentary reprieve.

“Where’re you goin’, bubba? Is the naughty boy twying to escape from the tickle monster? Why would my Silly Billy do a thing like that? I thought you said you wuvvvved your tickles! Were you lying to Mrs. Fluffers? You know what mommy does to naughty widdle liars, don’t you? Huh?”

To emphasize her point, Bethany pulled her hands away from William’s armpits and began squeezing at his newly exposed butt, focusing on that sensitive spot just beneath his cheeks and kneading it with her thumbs. Even through his pants, it fired a bolt of ticklish sensations straight through William’s body, causing his upper body to start flopping around like a fish out of water.

"NO! Noooooooohohohohohohohohohoho! Plehehehehease!" William shrieked. "Nohohohohohohot thahahahahahahat! Ihihihihi dihihihihihdddddnnnn’t lihihihihihihieeeeee! Ihihihihihihihiiiiii dihihihihiiiiiiddddnnn’t!"

William was so close now. He’d pulled himself forward just far enough that his shins were starting to slip loose from beneath Bethany. He just needed to drag himself a little further…

“Well, Mrs. Fluffers doesn’t bewwwwweeeeeeeive you! A-tickle tickle tickle! Silly Billy’s got a tickly little tushy! Yes he does! Look at it jiggle! Jiggle jiggle jiggle!”

“Ahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaaaaaa!”

With what little strength he had left, William summoned the will to pull himself forward. It almost happened in slow motion. He felt it first in his inner ear, followed by the blood flowing toward his head, as William finally went over the edge. It wasn’t a graceful fall or slow slide off the couch, more of a slump. As his head slowly lowered toward the floor, William sighed with relief as he felt Bethany’s tickle abate. He was bent at the waist, the top of his head just barely touching the carpeted floor. His pants had slid down from all his wriggling out from under Bethany and William could feel the cool air of the room against his exposed butt-crack. His belt buckle was digging into his bladder from where it was pressed against the side of the bed, and the corner of the bed he’d just slid over was now pressing against the top of his knees. His feet, however, were still on the bed, up in the air.

William lay there for a moment, his mind blank and breathing shallow. When he opened his eyes, William suddenly noticed that the TV was still on, paused on Nina’s crazed face, wild-eyed and hysteric. It was then that he felt Bethany’s weight shift around on the bed behind him and his heart sank as she pulled his feet into a firm headlock.

“Why Billy! I had no clue you were in such a rush for tootsie time! All you had to do was ask, baby boy. Mrs. Fluffers has just been dreaming about these widdle piggies…”

Bethany shifted her position on the bed. She kept his ankles locked in the crook of her arm as she slid her butt to the end of the bed and planted her feet on either side of William’s body on the floor. Now he was face down on the carpet with his feet up in the air, trapped in Bethany’s firm grip. He could already feel her teasing apart his shoelaces.

“Please…” William breathed into the carpet. He was too tired to fight, to blissed out to resist. He belonged to Bethany. She was his tickler, and he was her Silly Billy.

“Ssssshhhhhh, quiet now. Catch your breath, baby. Sssssssshhhhhhhhh…”

The knots of his shoes came loose and William didn’t bother resisting as he felt his red converse worried loose from his feet. Bethany kept shushing him, the breath escaping from between her pursed lips as she let his shoes drop to the floor with a soft THUD. He felt the cool air of the room hit his cotton cocooned foot and flexed his toes. His heart began to beat even faster in his chest as Bethany began to pull at his socks, the elastic ring gliding slowly from his ankle down to the heel, baring it one unbearable inch at a time past his arches and finally over his toes. As she slowly peeled his socks from his trembling feet, Bethany kept talking.

“Such big feet for a little boy! And so soft too. Why, these might be the softest feetsies the tickle monster has seen in a looooong time! Are they ticklish? Does my Silly Billy have ticklish feet? Tell Mrs. Fluffers. Tell her just how ticklish your feet are, baby.”

William knew there was nothing he could do. His cock stirred once more as he whined his pathetic response into the carpet.

“They’re so ticklish…so so ticklish. Please…be gentle…”

“I will, baby. I will…”

And with that, Bethany began dragging a single, well-manicured fingernail up and down the sole of his right foot, the tip of the nail just gliding over the soft sole at a maddening pace. William bit his lip as fear began to flood into his chest. Fuck, that tickled…

“AHHHHahahahahahahahahahahahahaha! Nahahahahahahahahahaha stahahahahahahahahahap! Nohohohohohohohohohohohohohohoooooooooo!”

“Oh my! Listen to that cute little laff!” Bethany trilled, “I’m barely touching you, baby. Goodness! All this from one itty-bitty finger on your soles! I wonder what would happen if I…”

Now Bethany used all five fingers of her free hand, skittering them up and down his soles, jumping from foot to foot as William tried to shake his feet loose or tried to cover one foot with the other.

“Nuh uh uhhhhhhhh! My Silly Billy wanted to be tickled so he’s gonna get tickled. A giggle giggle giggle goo! Mrs. Fluffers loves your feet, baby boy, and I’m gonna keep them snuggly tight riiiiiiiight here until you get allllll your widdle giggles out.”

His feet were explosively ticklish, containing far more sensitivity than Bethany had imagined. She starting giggling herself as she watched his toes spasm and twitch under her playful assault.

“Ahahahahahahahahaahahahahahahahaha leheheheheheheave mihihihihy feeeheheeheheheeet alhohohohohohohohone!”

“Weave dem awone? But why would I do that, Silly Billy? Look at those happy little piggies wiggle! Is Mrs. Fluffers making you lafffff? Is my Silly Billy enjoying his time in the tickle monster’s piggy palace?”

Suddenly William’s laughter spiked and Bethany took notice. Was it something she said? She didn’t have to wait long for an answer as William continued to shake and babble into the carpet beneath her.

“Nahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha stahahahahahahahahahahahp cahahahahahahallllling thehehehehehehehem thahahahahahahahahat!”

Aha! That was it. William’s toes held the prize. Bethany knew exactly what her Silly Billy wanted, what he needed.

“What? Piggies? You don’t like it when mommy calls them piggies? Well, then you definitely won’t like this…”

With that, Bethany pinched his big toe between her fingers, and began to wiggle it back and forth.

“N-no…” William trembled, shaking his head as the tickler began her game of piggies.

“Thisssss little piggy went to market…”

William whimpered. He actually whimpered like a frightened little boy. The anticipation, knowing what came next, made it almost unbearable.

“Thissssss little piggy stayed home…” Bethany cooed as she wiggled the next toe, smiling playfully down at William as he bit his lip and squirmed about on the floor.

“Please…don’t…”

“Awwww, my poor Silly Billy! Are you upset that thiiiiisssss little piggy had roast beef….”

William was breathing hard now; trying to mentally prepare himself for the tickles he knew were coming. He was excited and terrified in equal measure.

“Or was it that thiiiiisssss little piggy had none?”

At this, Bethany leaned forward and gave William’s foot the gentlest little kiss. Even this soft touch, the warm breath he felt against the ball of his foot, was enough to make William giggle. He was shaking now.

“Does my Silly Billy know what happened to this last wide piggy? Huh? Does he?”

“No…” William whined. The stubborn journalist was long gone. All that remained was a frightened boy with soft feet trapped in the arms of the tickle monster.

“This little piggy…” Bethany whispered, building suspense as best she could as she wiggled William’s pinky toe, gently teasing the pad of it with one of her nails. “went wee wee wee alllllllllll the way home!”

At this, she went all out on William’s feet. Her nailed fingers scratched and scraped at his tender soles, spidering at his arches and poking between his toes. But it wasn’t all fingernails either, she used the soft pads of her fingertips as well, sweeping them along his instep, teasing the tips of his toes and fluttering against his heels. Taken together, the effect was too much for William, who was now bouncing about on the floor, whipping his head from side to side as the tickles overtook him.

“NOOOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHP IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIT! I CAHAHAHAHAHAHAN’T TAHAHAHAHAKE IHIHIHIHIHIHIT! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEEHEHEHEASE!”

“What’s that baby boy? More piggies? You got it bubba. Mommy can play more piggies with you! We can paly piggies for as loooooooooong as you want.”

William’s eyes bugged out of his head. That wasn’t what he meant!

“NOOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO! NOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHOHORE PIHIHIHIHIHIHIGGGIES!”

“That’s what I said! More piggies! What my Silly Billy wants, my Silly Billy gets…” Bethany now used her legs, crossing them at the knee and squeezing tight to keep William’s legs still. She was using both hands now, wiggling the big toe of his right foot with one hand, while the other hand teased up and down his left, never letting up for even a moment.

“Thiiiiiiiis little piggy went to market…”

“NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO! IHIHIHIHHIHIHIHIHHIHI WAHAHAHAHAHANNA GOHOHOHOHOHOHO HOOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOME! NOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHORE TIHIHIHIHIHCKLESSSSSEHEHEHEHEEHEHE!”

“Thissssss widdle piggy stayed home….”

Tears were leaking from the corner of William’s eyes now. He couldn’t think of anything else. When he shut his eyes, he could see himself there in the clutches of Mrs. Fluffers, as if he were watching his own recording of this encounter. The thought of it, how he must look at the mercy of his maternal tickle monster, only served to excite him further.

“IIHIHIHIHIHIHIHI’LLLLL DOHOHOHOHOHOHOOOOO AHAHAHAHAHAAHNEEEEEEEEEETHIHIHIHIHIHING! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHP!”

“Thissssss itty bitty widdle piggy had roast beef….

“STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP TAHAHAHAHAHAHALKING LIHIHIHIHIKE THAHAHAHAHAHAHAT!”

“Stawp?” Bethany asked in response as she took his 4th toe between her fingers, never once stopping the ticklish onslaught on his other foot. “You don’t wike it when I tawk to yew wike a tickawy widdle baaaaaaby? But dats what yew arrrrrrrre!”

“IIHIHIHIHIHIHIHI’M NAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAT!”

“Are you suuuuuuure? Because I heard a rumor that….thiiiiiiissssss little piggy had none…”

“OHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO MYHIHIHIHIHIHIHHI GOHOHOHOHHOHOD!”

“And thiiiiiiiiis little piggy…”

“PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE DOHOHOHOHOHOHOHON’T!”

“Went…” she pasued once more for dramatic effect, “…wee wee wee! All the way hoooome!”

Bethany once again attacked his feet with gusto, her fingers scraping, rubbing, poking and caressing every inch of ticklish flesh they could find. William’s neck had turned crimson from the force of his laughter. He had no clue how much time had passed. His world had shrunk to the size of this room. And there was no getting out.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA PLEHEEHEEEEEEEEASEEEEEEEE IHIHIHIHIHIHIHI’LL BEHEHEHEHEEEEE GOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOD!”

“You will?” Bethany cooed. “You pwomise to dwop your siwwee widdle stowy?”

“YEHEHEHEHEHEHEHESSSSSSSSSS! IHIHIHIHIHIIII PROHOHOHOHOMISE! JUHUHUHUHUHUHUST PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE MIHIHIHIHIHIHSSUS FLUHUHUHUHFFFFFERS! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP TIHIHIHIHIHIHIHCKLING MYHYHYHYHYHYYHY FEEEHEHEHEHEEET!”

And to his amazement, the tickles stopped. For the first time in what seemed like an hour, William could hear his thoughts again. He laid there a moment, dazed and limp on the floor, the side of his cheek raw and chafed from having rubbed against the carpet so many times. He almost didn’t register it when he felt Bethany’s arms wrap around him and drag him back onto the bed.

He could only lie there as Bethany lay beside him and brushed the damp hair from his face as her other hand rubbing up and down his chest while he tried to catch his breath.

“Shhhhh” Bethany shushed him, watching his face carefully as he slowly came back to himself. Her hand continued to stroke his chest, up and down. Up and down. “That’s a good boy.”

Her hand drifted further downward now. His pants were half off. All that wriggling and struggling had caused his pants to ride down past his butt. Now, his erection was straining against the thin fabric of his boxers, the tip wet and slick in the light. Bethany let her hand rest up on it for a moment, and giggled as she felt it tense and bob under the warmth of her palm.

A momentary panic took William, who was still very much out of sorts. But when he looked into Bethany’s eyes, he saw no malice there, no ill intent. If anything…it had a calming effect on him.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop…” she whispered.

William’s breathing was more even now, his heart no longer pounding in his ears. And yet he dared not say yes. He also, pointedly, did not say no. Bethany read his face – an open, flushed book to her now – and smiled. With one hand she deftly pushed the elastic waistband down toward his thighs and licked her lips as she saw his erection bounce free. Little beads of precum caught the light as they formed and dripped down the head of his erect cock before running down the shaft, which bobbed and throbbed in the open air.

“It’s okay…” she breathed. Gently, she pushed him onto his side and cuddled up close to spoon him. She licked her palm and gently took hold of his cock. As soon as her fingers wrapped around it, she felt his body shudder. This wouldn’t take long at all.

“Listen to me very carefully,” she whispered, her lips right beside his ear. “I meant what I said, there are no cameras here, no microphones. I trust you to be a good boy for me.”

“Ungh..a good boy…” William sighed breathlessly, distracted by the slow, deliberate motions down below. God her hands felt warm and so, so soft.

“Yes, baby.” Bethany cooed. “And if you’re a good boy, do what you’re told, I’ll tickle you again sometime. You won’t know when, you won’t know where. But if you’re good then I promise, Mrs. Fluffers will find you again.”

Her hand sped up now and William’s body grew rigid against her.

“But if you’re bad…you’ll never see me again. You’ll go the rest of your life without ever knowing this feeling again. And that’d be a real shame, wouldn’t it?”

“Mhm,” William whined, his hips bucking into Bethany’s hand as she stroked and pumped him into oblivion.

“Good boy,” Bethany cooed before giving his ear a little kiss. “Now repeat after me: I’m a Silly Billy.”

“Nnnngh…I’m a Silly Billy.” William whimpered. God he was so close.

“Again.”

“I’m your little Silly Billy!”

“Again.”

“I’m your little Silly B-“

Then it happened. William squeezed his eyes shut. His mouth fell open but no sound came out. It felt as if he were tensing every muscle in his body and for a split second he may as well have been made of stone. Two spurts. Then everything went lax and he melted into the bed. His mind was blank, a television that only played static. He never heard Bethany leave. She was gone by the time he opened his eyes.

By the time William had gathered himself he’d begun to question his sanity. There was no evidence of Bethany anywhere. The TV was playing the evening news as scheduled. The folder of incriminating chats had been taken with her.

William didn’t know what to do. Now that it was over, now that he had a chance to think, he was totally conflicted. Did he dare give up the story? Now that he’d, um, finished, did he still feel the same way? He could still go through with it. He had everything he needed. But the thought of seeing Bethany made him instantly rigid once more. Could he really go the rest of his life without ever experiencing such pleasure again? He felt like an addict the day after their first hit. Two roads lay before him, and the one without Bethany seemed grey and dark indeed.

But he had time to think it over. And as he sat on the end of the bed, putting on his socks, William noticed something and had to smile.

He was wrong. There was one trace of Bethany left behind: a single lipstick kiss on the bottom of his foot.

And in that moment, William made up his mind.