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Rated: E · Short Story · Children's · #2135912
14-year-old Nick loves tickling and getting tickled, this is his story
I wake up to find myself in the back seats of my mums Toyota Camry. I felt tired and groggy. How the hell did I get here? The last thing I remember was drinking (Pepsi) at my friends, Jacksons, house. I go to rub my eyes but my hand feels numb and immobilized I looks up and see that my hands are tied to the roof of the car. My feet are locked in the gaps between the head and body of the seats in front of him. He tries moving them but to no avail. He'd been stripped of his tee and pants so he sat there in his Sketchers and Bond underwear. He tries to call for someone but something in his mouth stops his cry. There's a cloth gagged into his mouth, shoved deep pass his teeth. The windows of the car have been covered by black paper blocking out any sunlight or giving any clue as to where this car was. The driver seats open and to Nicks surprise, his older sister gets into the car. She slams the door behind her but in the brief second that the door was open, Nick sees that the car is parked in his garage.

"Hey little bro", Sue says as she opens up her hand bag, "doin alright"?
"Yeah, I'm fine", was what I was supposed to say but it just comes out as "Mmmppphhhh, gnnnggghhh".
"Well, that’s great", She takes something out of her bag and places it on the seat, out of my view. The front passenger seat then opens as Sue starts untying my shoe laces on my right foot and Jackson enters the car.
"Am I late"? He asks and then looks at me, "Hey buddy".
I glare at him, it was most definitely his idea to trap me like this.
Jackson was 14, same as me but born a few months earlier. He had a huge foot fetish which was how we met in the first place.

It had been the first day at high school, I had moved towns and didn’t know anyone in the school. In maths, I picked a seat in front of a boy that looked like he was three years younger than wheat he actually was. He had sandy blonde hair that was cut short and spiked up at the front. Throughout maths, I kept slipping my feet in and out of my shoes, revealing my white socks. Our school had a white sock only restrictions, no colour and no logo’s. I was unaware that the boy behind e was staring at my shoe play the whole time. When school ended he caught up to me and stuck his hand out.
“Hey, my names Jackson, Jackson Frazer”
I shook his hand and immediately he led me away from the bustling crowd of kids pushing to get home.
“Look, this is gonna sound really weird but I saw what you were doing in maths today and I just wanted to see if you want to be friends”?
This was the first kid that had come up to me and offered to friends and he was super cute, bonus.
“What do you mean”?
Jackson looked at me weirdly then after about a minute of silence I finally realised what I said.
“Oh, no, the maths thing, not the friend… thing”.
“The thing you were doing with your shoes”.
The statement hit me like a brick, the kid liked feet?
“You’ve got really nice feet”, He looked from his shoes back to my face to see my reaction, “I know, you think I’m weird, never mind, I’m just gonna leave”.
He starts walking away but I grab his wrist, “no, of course I want to be your friend”.
“You don’t think I’m weird?”
I hesitate, “well, I’m like that as well”.
Jacksons face lights up, “Hell yeah!”
We walk home together, Jackson calls his mum if he could go to my house, not like it mattered though, his mum was out most of the time, god knows doing what, and he used to always stay with a baby sitter. When we got home we slipped of our shoes and went to my room, My parents were out with my older sister so we were home alone. We watched tv and played on the PlayStation until we got bored. Jackson lied down on the floor with his feet in my lap and a million questions raced through my mind when I looked down at his socked feet.
“Hey, Jackson, what size are your shoes”, from my observation they looked like they were around 7 or 8, medium sized for a 12-year-old.
“8”, damn, one size bigger than mine, “what about yours”, his voice lit up at the talk about feet.
“7”, I saw him stare at my socked feet. I decide to avert his attention by answering my next question. I slide one finder up his socks, they fitted perfectly around his arches, sole and heel and gave no resistance. I looked back at him and he smiled at me then wiggled his toes, I couldn't resist. I peeled of his socks and the sight of his feet took my breath away. They were small, smooth and his toes were rounded. He had high arches and his soles were soft and wrinkle free.
"Oh no", I hear Jackson whimper.
I start with a finger dragging up each foot then two until all five fingers are stroking each foot, from heel to the bottom of his bubble toes. He giggles throughout the treatment. I then step it up a notch. I flip him on his belly and sit on his ankles. He doesn’t resist. I begin raking all my finger up and down his soles. He bursts out in cute prepubescent boyish laughter. He trashes around, but not enough to shake me off. He likes it, I think. After two short minutes, he finally reaches down and pushes me of. I was a hard push and I go flying. He sees me on the ground rubbing my head and says, “Oh shit”.
He walks towards me and helps me up, but his fingers slip into my shirt and does and little dance in my armpits. I giggle and fall back down. Jackson stands above me as his frown transforms into a menacing smile, “Time for revenge, don’t you think”.
The meaning of his words sinks into me and I try to crawl away but he pins me down, with me arms above my head with his legs cradling my hips. He begins mercilessly tickling everywhere over my abdomen and into my hairless pits. I break out in laughter.
“Man, I could do this all day”.
“Come on, your laughter’s so cute”.
No one had ever said that to me in my life, in fact no one had ever tickled me in my life, except for my sister but that was always quick and only when she was annoyed at me. All that changed when she met Jackson who loved to tickle me every chance he could after that day, sometimes improvised but most of the time I would let him restrain me and tickle me silly. He always focused on my feet, which, according to his words were the best set of feet he had seen in a long time. All tickling sessions would happen mostly at his house as he was home alone most of the time. As we grew older (meaning, over the next year), we began to feel more comfortable together. At the age of 14, he had probably tickled me more than I had eaten. We still had high pitched laugh, not the shrieking type, more of the voice crack type. For some reason my feet grew slowly and at the age of 14 I was wearing size 8 shoes while Jackson had already gone up to 9. Not like that was much. Many people in our year had over size 10 shoes already, reaching up to size 15.

Sue had finished untying and taking of my shoes and socks, Jackson followed her example. He produced a roll of string and gave some to Sue. He then tied all my toes back so they were immobile and they couldn't curl up. Sue showed me the thing she had pulled out of her bag earlier, it wss her favourite feather. Long, pink and soft. It could glide over any surface no matter how rough. Not that that would matter. Sue forces me to misturise my feet everyday and I dont ussually walk barefoot anywhere so my soles were super soft, making the feather 100 times more deadly.
"You ready little bro?"
I shake my head. I'm dreading and anticipating whats to come. It's gonna be a hell of a ride.

To be Cont....
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