Ticklysh
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Hey guys, this is the first part of the first chapter of my upcoming book "Tickling Experiment". The book is under development but I plan to release it in 2025. The story will contain eight primary tickling scenes, plus an unexpected bonus scene, told in an immersive first-person singular perspective, the narrative shifts between the participants, offering a deeply personal window into their experiences. Each character’s experience is unique, shaped by their own ticklishness, their strategies for resistance, and the unpredictable conditions imposed by the experiment itself. The story is also posted on DeviantArt.
It had been a long day at college, and all I wanted to do was kick back and relax. As soon as I stepped through the door of my apartment, I slipped off my shoes, feeling the cool air against my socked feet. White no-show socks—soft, worn just enough to be comfortable. I wiggled my toes and stretched, sighing as I made my way upstairs to my room.
I plopped onto my bed and grabbed my laptop, opening it up with a quick flick of my fingers. I needed money. Badly. Rent, textbooks, groceries—it all added up way too fast. But the last thing I wanted was some boring part-time job, standing for hours behind a counter, pretending to care about coffee orders or folding clothes at some retail store. No way. If I was going to work, I wanted something different. Something interesting.
I scrolled through endless job listings, my fingers mindlessly tapping against the keyboard. Barista? Pass. Receptionist? No thanks. Dog walker? Cute, but not my thing. Nothing stood out. Nothing felt worth my time—until my eyes landed on a listing that made my heart skip a beat.
"Are you ticklish?"
My stomach tightened. What?
"Do you want to make extra money in a fun and unique way?"
I sat up straighter, suddenly more awake.
"We are currently looking for willing participants for a tickling-based endurance experiment."
A tickling experiment? My mind raced with mixed emotions. This had to be a joke, right?
"No experience necessary! Boys and girls welcome! Compensation guaranteed! If you’re interested in testing your limits and earning some extra cash, apply now! Serious inquiries only."
I read the ad at least three times. Tickling? For money? That was definitely… unexpected. I had always been ticklish—super ticklish, actually—but the idea of getting paid for it? That was something I had never even considered before.
A weird mix of curiosity and hesitation bubbled up inside me. Would it be humiliating? Fun? A nightmare? I wasn’t sure. But one thing was certain—this was unlike anything else I’d seen.
And that made it tempting.
To be fair, I had mixed feelings about it. My stomach felt uneasy, a strange mix of curiosity and hesitation swirling inside me. I knew I was ticklish—especially my feet. That was something I was painfully aware of.
Growing up, I had been tickled a lot. In my childhood, my older cousins found it hilarious to pin me down and make me shriek with laughter, wiggling their fingers into my ribs or scribbling across the soles of my feet. It had only gotten worse in my teenage years. Friends, boyfriends—all of them had discovered just how sensitive I was. And I always lost it. Always.
One memory in particular flashed in my mind. A party. I had been lying on a couch, chatting, when suddenly two of my so-called friends decided to gang up on me. One of them straddled my wrists, trapping my arms over my head, while another grabbed my ankles. Before I could even protest, I felt my shoes yanked off. Then came my socks—white no-show socks, the same kind I was wearing right now. My stomach flipped just thinking about it.
The next few seconds had been pure torture. The fingers under my arms, the nails dragging up and down my soles—I had screamed, thrashed, and laughed. And it had only lasted maybe two minutes. Or even less.
My eyes darted back to the advertisement on my screen. But fot the money… How bad could it be?
Besides, this was an endurance test. I could stop anytime, right?
And I’d still get paid… right?
I took a deep breath and clicked the ‘Apply’ button. What’s the worst that could happen? In the worst-case scenario, I’d show up, take one look at the setup, and decide to walk away. No harm done. But if I actually went through with it… well, the money was tempting. It was worth the chance.
The application process was surprisingly simple—just a few basic questions about my age, health, and consent. Nothing too invasive. After submitting my form, I closed my laptop and sighed. Maybe I was overthinking it.
My phone buzzed. A new email notification. That was fast.
Subject: Application Confirmation - Tickling Experiment
From: [email protected]
Dear Lily,
Thank you for applying to participate in our tickling-based endurance experiment. We have reviewed your application and are pleased to invite you to the next phase of selection. Please find the details of your appointment below:
Date: 6th June
Time: 2:00 PM
Location: Tickling Research Laboratory, 105 Westbrook Ave
Upon arrival, please check in at the front desk. You will receive further instructions on-site. If at any point you wish to withdraw, you are free to do so. We look forward to your participation.
Best regards,
Dr. K.
Lead Researcher
I stared at the email for a moment, re-reading the words. This was real. It was happening.
I exhaled and shut my laptop.
That night, lying in bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I had actually applied. I had actually been accepted. What the hell was I getting myself into? My mind kept circling back to the memories of being tickled, the way I always lost control. Would this be the same? Worse? Could I even handle it?
I hugged my pillow and stared at the ceiling. Maybe I was making a mistake. Maybe I wasn’t. Either way, I’d find out soon enough.
With a deep breath, I closed my eyes. Sleep didn’t come easy.
On my Patreon, I’ll be sharing exclusive behind-the-scenes content, insights, and updates about the book's development.
If you consider to support the project, you'll get early access to chapters-in-progress—long before the official release—allowing you to experience the story as it unfolds in real time. Your contributions directly help bring this project to life by funding commissioned artwork from talented artists. These illustrations will not only enrich the book but also enhance the immersion into the tickling scenes and key moments of the story.
Chapter 1 Part 1
(Lily's POV)
(Lily's POV)
It had been a long day at college, and all I wanted to do was kick back and relax. As soon as I stepped through the door of my apartment, I slipped off my shoes, feeling the cool air against my socked feet. White no-show socks—soft, worn just enough to be comfortable. I wiggled my toes and stretched, sighing as I made my way upstairs to my room.
I plopped onto my bed and grabbed my laptop, opening it up with a quick flick of my fingers. I needed money. Badly. Rent, textbooks, groceries—it all added up way too fast. But the last thing I wanted was some boring part-time job, standing for hours behind a counter, pretending to care about coffee orders or folding clothes at some retail store. No way. If I was going to work, I wanted something different. Something interesting.
I scrolled through endless job listings, my fingers mindlessly tapping against the keyboard. Barista? Pass. Receptionist? No thanks. Dog walker? Cute, but not my thing. Nothing stood out. Nothing felt worth my time—until my eyes landed on a listing that made my heart skip a beat.
"Are you ticklish?"
My stomach tightened. What?
"Do you want to make extra money in a fun and unique way?"
I sat up straighter, suddenly more awake.
"We are currently looking for willing participants for a tickling-based endurance experiment."
A tickling experiment? My mind raced with mixed emotions. This had to be a joke, right?
"No experience necessary! Boys and girls welcome! Compensation guaranteed! If you’re interested in testing your limits and earning some extra cash, apply now! Serious inquiries only."
I read the ad at least three times. Tickling? For money? That was definitely… unexpected. I had always been ticklish—super ticklish, actually—but the idea of getting paid for it? That was something I had never even considered before.
A weird mix of curiosity and hesitation bubbled up inside me. Would it be humiliating? Fun? A nightmare? I wasn’t sure. But one thing was certain—this was unlike anything else I’d seen.
And that made it tempting.
To be fair, I had mixed feelings about it. My stomach felt uneasy, a strange mix of curiosity and hesitation swirling inside me. I knew I was ticklish—especially my feet. That was something I was painfully aware of.
Growing up, I had been tickled a lot. In my childhood, my older cousins found it hilarious to pin me down and make me shriek with laughter, wiggling their fingers into my ribs or scribbling across the soles of my feet. It had only gotten worse in my teenage years. Friends, boyfriends—all of them had discovered just how sensitive I was. And I always lost it. Always.
One memory in particular flashed in my mind. A party. I had been lying on a couch, chatting, when suddenly two of my so-called friends decided to gang up on me. One of them straddled my wrists, trapping my arms over my head, while another grabbed my ankles. Before I could even protest, I felt my shoes yanked off. Then came my socks—white no-show socks, the same kind I was wearing right now. My stomach flipped just thinking about it.
The next few seconds had been pure torture. The fingers under my arms, the nails dragging up and down my soles—I had screamed, thrashed, and laughed. And it had only lasted maybe two minutes. Or even less.
My eyes darted back to the advertisement on my screen. But fot the money… How bad could it be?
Besides, this was an endurance test. I could stop anytime, right?
And I’d still get paid… right?
I took a deep breath and clicked the ‘Apply’ button. What’s the worst that could happen? In the worst-case scenario, I’d show up, take one look at the setup, and decide to walk away. No harm done. But if I actually went through with it… well, the money was tempting. It was worth the chance.
The application process was surprisingly simple—just a few basic questions about my age, health, and consent. Nothing too invasive. After submitting my form, I closed my laptop and sighed. Maybe I was overthinking it.
My phone buzzed. A new email notification. That was fast.
Subject: Application Confirmation - Tickling Experiment
From: [email protected]
Dear Lily,
Thank you for applying to participate in our tickling-based endurance experiment. We have reviewed your application and are pleased to invite you to the next phase of selection. Please find the details of your appointment below:
Date: 6th June
Time: 2:00 PM
Location: Tickling Research Laboratory, 105 Westbrook Ave
Upon arrival, please check in at the front desk. You will receive further instructions on-site. If at any point you wish to withdraw, you are free to do so. We look forward to your participation.
Best regards,
Dr. K.
Lead Researcher
I stared at the email for a moment, re-reading the words. This was real. It was happening.
I exhaled and shut my laptop.
That night, lying in bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I had actually applied. I had actually been accepted. What the hell was I getting myself into? My mind kept circling back to the memories of being tickled, the way I always lost control. Would this be the same? Worse? Could I even handle it?
I hugged my pillow and stared at the ceiling. Maybe I was making a mistake. Maybe I wasn’t. Either way, I’d find out soon enough.
With a deep breath, I closed my eyes. Sleep didn’t come easy.
On my Patreon, I’ll be sharing exclusive behind-the-scenes content, insights, and updates about the book's development.
If you consider to support the project, you'll get early access to chapters-in-progress—long before the official release—allowing you to experience the story as it unfolds in real time. Your contributions directly help bring this project to life by funding commissioned artwork from talented artists. These illustrations will not only enrich the book but also enhance the immersion into the tickling scenes and key moments of the story.
