Giggle Gadget PART 2
by Casper D
Continued…
CHRIS:
When Leif finished his story, I attempted to feign disbelief, but I was getting cold from head to toe, you know? The truth of how I really felt must have been written all over my face.
He stopped walking and stared at me. I decided then that it was better not to front . . . that it would be wise to stop pretending that I was a non-believer.
"That must have been wild," I said nervously. And I was trying my best to pretend that everything was okay . . . that nothing was wrong.
"Wow, there is nothing more frightening than watching a pale person grow even paler," Leif said, looking at me intently. "I was only kidding, you know . . . I didn't destroy Shane's mind or anything. The Giggle Gadget simply elevated his to unimagined heights of pleasure. He still thanks me for it to this day."
"I was pretty sure you didn't fry his brain." I said, but it was a lie. Within my rapidly thudding heart I really thought he had turned someone's mind to pudding just for the sake of furthering the progress on his instruments. My legs still felt wobbly, even though I was so relieved.
"But I honestly think you'd be perfect for testing out my improved mechanism . . . I mean, assuming that you're not a weak-willed, easily breakable sort."
For a quick second the panic left me and I became somewhat insulted. "Ha! Very few women south of heaven are strong enough to take what I've lived through in--"
The panic returned when I saw the feral look in Leif's dark eyes. I felt a bug-like bead of sweat slide down my back. I had to think fast. "Y-you know what? I-I have a relative here in Los Angeles that I can stay with. I completely forgot about Aunt . . . Aunt Marisa! So I'll just find a phone an--"
Leif shook his head, "Oh, you are SO full of shit," He glanced around at the emptiness of this particular area of the park. It was behind the abandoned sub station. No one traversed to this unit segment of the park at night. I was in a full-blown panic now. I thought about running, but somehow I just knew there was no way in hell I was going to get away from his.
I tried to stall or play it off . . . to see if I could appease Leif somehow before he did something crazy. "Hey . . . well, uh... why don't you tell me more about your invention. What improvements have you made on it since your last tester tried it out?"
Without answering, Leif crouched and tackled me to the ground! He then slid up my body and started choking me! I tried to yell but he clamped down even harder on my throat. And he wasn't doing it carelessly, he was doing it carefully-using his probing hands to search for some crucial spot.
I fought long and hard to pry his hands away, but eventually a terrible weakness came over me. . . and I suddenly understood what was happening.
I was dying!
I rolled over onto my back, but Leif hung on, squeezing. He was squeezing the artery in a special way that kept the blood or air or something from reaching my brain. I was crying and silently screaming for my mother or my father . . . anyone! I tried to reach out, tried once more to push Leif away, but it was too late. I swear, I started seeing colored spots, and then the pain in my neck intensified.
I felt my own hands fall limply to my sides as the blackness swallowed me up.
LEIF:
Dressed in an hospital orderly’s uniform, I strolled down the hall. I traversed into the guest bedroom and to the mattress where my new tester lay bound and regaining consciousness. Chris' moans became higher-pitched wails as he fought to break free from the flexible molybdenum metal bands that kept his arms bound behind his back. Another band kept his ankles cinched together and, as I pulled him to his feet, his head whipped from side to side frantically. He was trying to shake loose the band that was cinched around his mouth like a gag.
He hopped with surprising agility as I led him towards the lab, but he was still trying to speak through the gag and snap the bands binding his arms and ankles. There were more muffled cries of protest as I led him to the most significant component of The Giggle Gadget. I knew that the sight of my invention was going to cause him go ballistic. I decided not to take the chance of his injuring himself before I could perform the needed tests.
Before he truly had the chance to freak out I swabbed his skin with alcohol, then delivered a cc of diazepam into his arm. This pacified his just enough for me to get his strapped into The Giggle Gadget-his legs in the stirrups and the device's wire-ornamented passion-cap placed on his head. The automated stirrups spread his legs and then closed them again. The bare soles of his size eleven feet, which lay exposed and vulnerable to anything I chose to do with them, practically blinded me with their beauty.
I began to rotate the lever at the base of the machine.
With every almost imperceptible tightening of the molybdenum metal straps that bound his, Chris' butt trembled and bounced as much as he was able. And this act unintentionally served to fully emphasize the magnanimity of his controlled manliness. And the message of his captivity was loud and clear. It was expressed in an unsubtle manner by the way he often screamed for his release through his gag and tried vainly to free himself from the tightening lashes every few moments. The single band of flexible metal on his forehead was attached in the back to the band of extensible metal circling his neck. This seemingly unusable strip of metal didn't seem to do anything but keep the sweat out of my tester's eyes, but as I manually tightened it, the band forced the skin on his forehead back . . . effectively forcing Chris' emerald-green peepers to stay open. Yes, my tester wouldn't even be able to close his eyes or even blink unless I allowed his to.
Robotic arms and hands emerged from beneath the contraption where Chris' now hyper-flexed feet were held immobile. Grasped within one of the metallic hands was a ball-point pen. In the other was a single car key.
"NO, Leif . . . please, not my feet . . . PLEASE just skip my feet, Leif", my tester tried begging again as the robotic hand expertly twirled the pen 'round and 'round between it's automated fingers.
With that the Giggle Gadget placed the tip of the pen against the sole of Chris' right foot and began to write. It drew spirals round and round getting larger and larger until the spirals were circling the entire sole of his foot from the ball to the heel. It was clearly unbearable but my beautiful tester managed to keep his feet arched through it all although he couldn't help erupting into hysterical laughter . . . hysterical laughter which eventually grew so severe that it was silently except for loud gasps as he desperately fought to draw air into his lungs.
And currently these ductile bands were sinking deeply into the soft flesh of his legs, abdomen, and upper arms.
The contraption's robotic hands not only continued to torment every inch of the soles of his feet, but they also ran the toothed side of a car key between Chris' toes as tears streamed from his eyes and helpless, agonized laughter poured from his lips. Chris was allowed to rest for fifteen minutes. At this time he caught his breath and, slick with sweat, tried to make a deal with me to let his off. The thought of just one more 45 min. session made him feel as if he'd lose his mind.
But I just ignored him, greatly enjoying his predicament.
After I played with my tester's man-nips for a while I manually lowered the power level of the Giggle Gadget. Chris heaved a heavy sigh through his gag, glad to be offered some relief from the contraption's constant assault of pleasure and torment. I did, however, take a moment to tighten the straps. In a moment his legs, which the automated stirrups were slowly splaying into an inverted "V" formation, were very seriously compressed by the flexible metal bands. Compressed to the point where his flesh was really beginning to bulge, chalk white, through each binding loop. I hadn't been satisfied with these restraints alone though, for he was still able to move his head about too much. So I began to manually tighten the strap encircling his neck.
The robotic hands began the last 45 min stretch under Chris' arms again--savagely attacking his ribs and I was rewarded three times by his losing his cool. They tortured his armpits which were pouring sweat. In fact, his entire body dripped with wetness as the mechanical hands continued attacking his ribs and around his tummy finally settling for awhile on his inner. I was SO entertained by the sight of his waist vainly trying to buck under the tight strap that held it down. He clearly looked as if he would go insane. Then, with a turn of the dial on my part, it stopped and he looked at me. Looked at and then watched as a new set of robotic arms and hands emerged with a bottle of baby oil. Then the hands and robotic hands near his feet were activated!
"NO, NO, NO!!!" he yelled "NO, Leif, please . . . " but I just snickered as the mechanical hands coated his soles with the oil. Then the other two arms pulled out two forks and he felt the metallic hands place the tines of each against the balls of his stretched feet just under the toes.
The Giggle Gadget's hands held the fork's tines firmly against the flesh of my captive's soles, and slowly drugged them down to the heels as he begged for mercy. Back and forth and back and forth the metallic hands went driving Chris insane with each trip the forks took across his soles. The slippery oil causing his feet to become more sensitive than anyone ever thought possible! And this is how The Giggle Gadget tortured him for the time left. He was reduced to no more than a hysterical mess!
And Chris' screams and moans became louder and louder. As the Giggle Gadget's tickling hands began to simultaneously torment his feet and sides, he howled, "PLEASEEEEEEEEEEEEE, OOOOOHHHHH!!! STOP IT YOU PSYCHOPATHIC BUCKET OF BOLTS!"
I laughed . . . he was speaking to the mechanism as if it were a person! I turned up the power.
"Nooooooooooooo!! It's too much!!!! Stoooooooop! I'm tingling all over . . . it tickles sooooo much hahahahahaaaaa NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"
After re-gagging his I responded to this by increasing the power even further.
Chris' body went spastic and, as my new tester erupted with tremendous outbursts, he swung his body back and forth . . . as far as the tethering bands would allow . . . and his head whipped from side to side. His mouth was open, and he was moaning loudly through the gag. His emerald green eyes were half closed with utter calenture. Wave after wave of tickling bliss swept over his as his soles and sides were assaulted by the contraption which was now glowing with unsheltered energy. It continued until Christopher completely collapsed in an intense, overpowering zenith of tormenting rapture. Despite the fact that he was spent, the mechanical hands refused to pull away from his. I made my way over to his and caressed Chris' butt and chest as he writhed in a libidinous stupor.
In the midst of trying to plead for his release, I saw that Chris was beginning to choke upon his own saliva. So I decided to help his out. I left his for a moment and returned carrying a bucket in which he could spew out some of the excess oral fluid. Mistake. When I removed his gag and told his to spit, he spat. But he did it on ME and not into the pail I held up to his!
"Bitch!" I cried, trying brush the saliva off my immaculate, tight-fitting orderly's uniform. Eventually I calmed down and said, "Can I ask you a hypothetical question?"
Chris merely glared at me.
I laughed, "Of course I can ask you a hypothetical question . . . an ignorant blockhead like you most-likely has no idea what the word 'hypothetical' means!" I re-gagged Chris before he could comment, and then said "Anyway, do you think it's smart to antagonize the person who currently has absolute power over you?"
I didn't wait for him to even make an attempt at responding. To liven things up even further I opened the door of the locker that was situated directly across from his . . . in his direct line of his sight. I swung the locker door open dramatically and made sure my new tester got a good look at what was inside.
It was my original tester Shane, huddled in the corner of the locker with thick froth bubbling up around his mouth. His bright blue eyes bulged from their sockets, and the veins on his neck stood out. His face was a livid scarlet, and his body was clenched together like a fist. His face froze in an grimace of abject psychosis.
I laughed as I watched Chris' horror. Clearly my new tester was trying to convince himself that what he was seeing wasn't real. I was still chuckling as I returned to the control console and pulled down two more levers. I flicked several switches methodically and then pressed the flashing red button near the sensation modulator. The entire Giggle Gadget shook and the lights at the top of the console blinked and flashed in rapid succession.
The Giggle Gadget began to rub the hysterically screaming Chris' soles and sides even more vigorously. Shockwaves coursed through Chris' body. After flicking the switches at the bottom of the console, the contraption began to pop with mild crackles of electricity. This assault of pleasure caused Chris' body to seemingly explode with blinding bursts of gratification. His muscles contracted, the Giggle Gadget resisted the contractions and grew larger. Chris' body, awash with sweat, relaxed against the restraining flexible metal bands.
I flipped another switch at the console and watched the show. Shockwave after shockwave went through Chris' fiercely laughing body. In 30 seconds, another of lord-only-knows how many spasms of rapture went through his. After ten or so blissful trembles, the tickling slowed. Chris just lay in the stirrups exhausted.
Then, completely without warning, the contraption began to tickle his soles and side double-time.
"Oh, goooooooooooooooooooooood Hahahahahahaahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!"
Chris went berserk, spasming so violently that he shook his gag free. Anticipation carried him quickly into another convulsion. It ripped through the core of his being like bolts of lightning . . . causing him to shout . . . causing his bound body to coil and eventually grow ready to explode yet again!
"Ohhhhhhhhgggghh! Godddddddd AAAAhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" he shrieked, lifting his hips slightly--causing the contraption to work harder at keeping his restrained . . . and subsequently tickle more vigorously. Two NEW metallic arms and hands protruded suddenly from beneath the contraption . . . two hands and a robotic head!
The robotic head, suspended by what appeared to be a giant spring-like coil was able to position itself directly in front of Chris. The mechanical face, which looked very much like a campy sci-fi robot's face, had a long red human-looking tongue protruding from its hinged mouth--as though it were preparing to eat some delicious meal. Every time the tongue would retract the robot's eyes would roll forward.
Chris screamed at the sight of it. But his screams turned to howls of laughter when the head went to work.
It began at his ears. It slowly licked its way down his sweaty body. As it licked, it dragged the robotic fingernails of two of its hands over his stomach and exposed armpits. Chris lay there shrieking, laughing and moaning. When it got to his thighs his laughter became almost dangerously uncontrolled.
"No! NO NO NO NO NO NO NOOOOOOO . . . hahahahahahahahahahaha!!"
My young tester heard somebody screaming blood-murder and I loved the look of total surprise on his face when he realized it was himself. Eventually I lowered ALL of the levels on the control panel console, subsequently turning the Giggle Gadget up to full power!
Then the most powerful surge of ticklish ecstasy he'd ever experienced thundered over his thrashing body like a tidal wave, washing away his very consciousness! And the Giggle Gadget kept on tickling and licking his--relentlessly tormenting his sides, pits, feet, ears and neck. After his fourteenth detonation of rapture in a row, Chris screamed loud and long.
"OOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH GOOOOOOOOOOD!!!!"
Sparks eerily crisscrossed the air as my lab's electrical systems short-circuited. While I--realizing for the first time the severity of what I'd done--fearfully backed away from the console and frantically attempted to gain control over the situation. Burst pipes allowed superheated water and steam to escape from many unpredictable points, scalding me slightly and yet doing nothing to extinguish the numerous graphite and electrical fires now raging like uncontrollable little beasts throughout my laboratory!
As for Chris . . . .
His body lay on the lab floor, spasmodically clenching and unclenching like a compressed spring. His spine and neck arched backwards at a seemingly impossible degree . . . in between the rare moments when he wasn't flipping around like a fish out of water. He had thick froth bubbling up around his mouth and his eyes had rolled back in his head. It was abundantly clear that every trace of sanity within my young tester had been completely annihilated.
Ah, well. Back to the drawing board.
EPILOGUE…
A year later, in an unpretentious room at Long Beach Memorial Hospital ....
Nineteen-year-old Edward Anderson regained consciousness, his vision allowing objects around him to take shape. He saw a cream-white wall and a large window, the light blue curtain closed. His eyes moved to what was nearer to his and he saw a metal pole holding an I.V. bottle. He followed the tube from it to his arm. When he turned his head, he saw a handsome dark-haired orderly looking down at his. This extraordinarily beautiful R.N. smiled. He had dark eyes and dark hair and looked as if he was in his later twenties.
"Hello," sad the orderly, "How are you feeling?"
"Where am I?" Edward asked. "How did I get here?"
"You're in the hospital, Edward. You fainted from malnutrition on Sunset boulevard."
Edward thought back and recalled how he had not eaten for two days. He had arrived in Hollywood a month earlier with dreams of becoming the next Brad Pitt. But in two weeks his dreams had become a nightmare, and he found himself homeless, without a job . . . and now hospitalized with malnutrition.
"Are you in much pain?" the orderly asked, brushing back Edward's hair and fixing his patient's pillow so that he would be more comfortable. "Your cranium struck the pavement pretty hard after he fainted."
"Ha! My mother, who's always commenting on the hardness of my head, would say that you had better check the sidewalk I fell on for cracks!"
The orderly smiled reassuringly at the distressed young man. "Well, with that sense of humor I'm sure you're going to be fine. And when you get out of here you can even stay at my place until you're back on your feet." He was quiet for a few moments, then spoke once more, "Yes," said the handsome orderly., "You can even earn your keep by helping me out with something I've been working on."
End.