TSA - Tickle Sole Agents
by Cray-Z
From the moment Agent Vorhees walked into the mezzanine floor of Agency Headquarters, he knew that Agent Fernwood was on the premises. He could smell the younger boy’s perfume mixed with his natural body chemistry.
By the time he reached the first loft he spotted both Kenny and Agent Adler engaged in some sort of frivolous prattle common to girls their age. It wasn’t long at all before the prattle became a good-natured kind of horseplay … and then this horseplay quickly evolved into a mischievous tickle fight!
They were both ticklish, so Agent Vorhees bore witness to quite a battle right on the carpeted floor of the loft. Redheaded Mikey, also known as Agent Adler, went for Kenny’s ribs at first, but quickly decided that assailing his exposed underarms would be best. Agent Fernwood’s screams of laughter filled the entire floor. Mikey continually jabbed at his ticklish points causing the nineteen-year-old agent to spasm as if he were being electrocuted.
And just when Agent Adler felt he had the sprightly boy totally at his mercy, Kenny executed a very proficient martial arts flip that sent the redhead flying to the carpeted floor with a "Oof!" Before he could recover Agent Fernwood lifted Mikey’s feet into his lap, placed his ankles in a head lock, yanked off the boy’s shoes and socks and tickle assaulted his soles with his nails. Agent Adler was howling with laughter and squirming spasmodically and he tried to push Agent Fernwood off him with his hands. But Kenny used one hand to grab the redhead’s wrists and pin them over his head, then used his free hand to spider his fingers up Mikey’s ribs to his armpits.
Shrieking and howling as his friend tickled him, Agent Adler, who was clad in a tummy-exposing midriff, was totally unprepared for when Kenny placed his mouth to his friends flat stomach and blew raspberries! And he did this while continuing to tickle his ribs! Squealing like an animal, the redhead twisted his body away from Kenny’s raspberry blowing mouth, but all he managed to do was reposition herself into Agent Fernwood’s ticking fingers.
Eventually Agent Adler was able to wiggle free. And Kenny made the mistake of believing the redhead would be too exhausted from his ordeal to mount a counter-attack. He was taken totally off-guard when Mikey tackled the blond nineteen-year-old and started tickling him. Before long, it became an all battle royal of tickling with Agent Fernwood once again pinned my Agent Adler, only this time, Agent Vorhees joined in. The blond goddess and Kenny began tickling Mikey’s feet, ribs and tummy. Mikey screamed, fully aware that this was a battle he couldn’t possibly win.
Agent Vorhees grabbed Agent Adler’s wrists and yanked them back above his head, preventing him from using them to escape. Then he began dancing his fingers up his ribcage to his armpits and tickled there for several minutes. Then he assailed the ginger-haired boy’s ribs, poking, prodding, and digging his fingers into and in between those ribs.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHEHEHAPLEHEHEHSE ZAHAHAHRIA! HAHAHAHNOT THE RIBS! NOT THE RIBSHAhAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHEHEHEHAHA!" The now flush-faced redhead teetered on the edge of fainting when Agent Vorhees halted his tickle assault and ordered Agent Fernwood to do the same. And a millisecond after they stopped, Agent Adler took off at a dead run, mumbling something about having a desperate need to use the bathroom.
That was when Kenny turned to Agent Vorhees.
There are two things anyone who has been around Agent Fernwood for any amount of time will tell you. The second, which Agent Vorhees wouldn't discover for several days, was that Kenny quickly got to know everybody, it seems, in the entire Agency. The first thing everyone knows about Kenny Agent Vorhees discovered for herself about two minutes after first making his acquaintance: he's always affable and perky--possessed of an infectious enthusiasm that knows no bounds. Even later, when losing friends in battles or failing an assigned mission that set the entire Agency back, Agent Fernwood remained perky. Jason, also known as Agent Vorhees, often thought this was strange, if not unnatural.
And the blond stalwart man sighed because, with Kenny’s attention focused on him alone now, he knew what was coming. And, with serenity stamped upon his unlined brow, but yet curious about the older agent’s life, spoke and asked Jason a thousand questions, gathering almost unwitting answers from Jason’s mouth. When the questions turned to how and why Agent Vorhees seemed so willing to sacrifice herself for the lives of his fellow agents, the older man sat the affable boy down and gave him a long serious look before speaking.
“There was a high-ranking agent here named Carlo Sanders. He also went by the moniker, Agent Richards and he possessed the ability to create small earthquakes and even disintegrate non-living solid substances. When I first joined the agency I was assigned to him as a novice apprentice. In other words, he had been consigned to train me.” Jason said. There was a faraway look in the older man’s blue eyes.
“Where is Agent Richards now?” Fernwood asked, his own blue eyes wide with curiosity.
“Patience, Kenny…I’m getting to that,” Agent Vorhees admonished. “Anyway, I worked very hard during our training sessions, and I hated being mentored by this man who hated me every morning--barking orders at me and even being physically abusive when I didn’t get things right as fast as he would have liked. Fighting techniques that came easily to him were often very hard for me to learn at first. I was often frustrated with myself because I couldn’t learn them as fast as some of the other agents. But whenever I was discouraged, Carlo worked me even harder to learn the new techniques. And instead of being appreciative I hated him for it. Mainly because he showed no sign of caring about me improving. He just seemed to enjoy torturing me.”
The stalwart blond man then began recounting the adventure that, as cliché as it sounds, changed his life …
***
On a sunny day in Lost Angel City, as chilled sounds play in a Movieland studio, a small group of men huddle behind a camera. They are watching as an extraordinarily beautiful man with peaches and cream complexion strikes poses again and again. With the lack of fuss, it would be easy to mistake this for just another photo shoot. Instead it was all a front. Everyone, model and photographer included, were mercenaries employed by the L.A.C.E. (Lawless Assemblage of Covert Espionage) an organization bent on destroying the Agency.
Agent Vorhees and Agent Richards had been deployed to destroy this concealed branch of L.A.C.E.
“We’re going to have to do this the hard way,” he muttered, glancing sideways at Agent Vorhees as they calmly made their way towards the decorated set where the shoot was taking place. “This entire building has been rigged with paranormal inhibitors. Our powers won’t work inside.”
Jason nodded, taking note of how cool and collected his former mentor was. Agent Richards had skin the color of creamy cappuccino and hair as dark and as glossy as raven wings. He was stunningly beautiful, and yet was incredibly deadly with or without his powers.
Agent Vorhees knew that he herself was an extraordinarily beautiful man, with penetrating blue eyes and a mysterious air that always kept one guessing. But Agent Richards had a serene, ethereal quality that was extremely arresting. Jason’s first thought upon meeting him was that he had the aura of a raven-haired angel; in the year since, he discovered that “demon” was probably more appropriate for his menacing former mentor.
The idea that he had been forced to endure being a student instead of a mistress had been unbearable to Jason. He was a natural leader after all. And even if that weren’t the case, why had the Agency placed him under the thumb of a female tyrant like Carlo Sanders? The two had been at odds for nearly every second of every day they spent together.
Now that they were all but equals, the two had become bitter rivals, always seeking to outdo the other on individual cases. Their rivalry was often counterproductive as their refusal to share information sometimes resulted in failed or scrubbed missions stemming from a lack of credible intelligence.
Now they had been paired together. Agent Vorhees had no choice but to trust Carlo Sanders. And Carlo, in turn, had no choice but to put his faith in his former apprentice. They made their way further onto the set, passing confused security guards en route. Yes, these guards were also L.A.C.E. mercenaries. Still, they were confused by the fact that the two scantily-clad agents strutting onto the set looked as if they belonged there. Both Jason and Carlo were certainly beautiful enough to be models. By the time these pseudo rent-a-cops realized their mistake, it was too late.
Agent Richards’s dark eyes were focused as he wordlessly aimed his automatic. He shot the fiend pretending to be a photographer through the chest and head, then fired again and then took out half of the security guards. Agent Vorhees took out the rest of the guards with a number of moves that felt good to his trained muscles. Her recent mastery of the martial art called Kwanmukan (The realization of the essential) was already serving his well. He had decided to test his limits by not going into a battle armed to the teeth with firearms.
Two more guards tried to attack him from behind, but he dispatched them quickly enough.
But by the time he turned around to scout the opposite direction, Mister Hister, the L.A.C.E. mercenary who had been posing as the fashion model, was holding a cocked .45 on him. "I don’t know why you decided to come in here karate chopping and all that shit," he said with a malicious grin. "But maybe in the next life you’ll learn to bring an actual gun to a gunfight, bitch!"
Agent Vorhees froze. One second he was crowing in his head about how easily he had taken down the security guards with his bare hands, proving to herself that not rushing into a situation with guns blazing, or relying on his powers, could actually be accomplished. The next, there was a flash of light, a deafening explosion, and Agent Richards. He screamed as his fellow agent stepped in front of him, taking the bullet that was intended to end him life.
"Carlo!"
The raven-haired man stumbled backward against him, and in a movement that was like a flash of lightning, Jason seized Agent Richards’s own automatic, took aim at the still grinning Mister Hister and emptied the entire clip into the villainess. And he kept on pulling the trigger even after Mister Hister lay still and bloodied upon the set floor. He only stopped when he thought he heard Agent Richards call his name.
He crouched down beside the supine agent. Jason could see a thin trickle of blood in the corner of his mouth. He glanced down at his own clothes and realized they were blood-spattered. Was it his own? The guards he’d taken down? Mister Hister’s? Carlo’s? He didn’t know. All that he knew was that he and Agent Richards were the only two people left alive on that photo set … and he could already feel Carlo’s life leaving him. Jason felt his chest filling up with lead, and a sudden cold encompassing his very soul.
"They … they say never evny a person unless you’re willing to … to … swap identities with them," Carlo sutten managed to gasp out as his eyes grew fixed right before Agent Vorhees’ eyes. "Well now you’ll have to swap with me. You’re the best of the best at the Agency now…"
“But why,” Jason asked, feeling the hot sting of tears in his eyes as he held the dying agant. “Why did you take that shot for me?”
For a brief moment life returned to Agent Richards’s dark eyes. And an incredulous look appeared on his face. “Why? Because we’re fellow agents. Because it was hard for me to get used to the fact that you were no longer my primary responsibility. And … because… because …”
He opened his eyes wider and looked at Jason and moved him lips as if to say "I love you," and with that he was gone.
***
When Agent Vorhees finished recounting his story, he didn’t know how Kenny would react. The younger man was silent. Then, quite suddenly, Jason felt Agent Fernwood press close to his in a brief hug. A very brief hug because he knew this was all the comforting someone like Agent Vorhees would accept.
“Mind-reading is a power I don’t possess,” Jason said, staring intently at Kenny. “But to be totally unaware that Agent Richards…Carlo…truly did have my best interest at heart made me question my instincts … my ability to read people. I am well aware that new agents shouldn’t be coddled, but I’m just as aware that communication is vital for a good relationship at the Agency. And building a good relationships with other agents requires that you understand their ideas and opinions--especially those that you disagree with. Staying open to contrary opinions is the spark for a relationship of trust which is critical to the kind of partnership where you place your lives in each other’s hands.”
Agent Fernwood let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. The story had clearly depressed him, but it was also clear that he’d gained some insight into the man that was Agent Vorhees.
Still, it was obvious he wasn’t expecting Agent Vorhees’ next move--was totally unprepared when the stalwart blond suddenly mounted a tickle-assault in order to make the depressed-looking younger man smile again!
Agent Vorhees, joined now by Agent Adler who’d finally returned from the bathroom) managed to carry the affable young blond off to the gymnasium. There they tied Agent Fernwood’s wrists to the gymnastic power rings that dangled from the ceiling. He struggled, kicked, and pleaded with them to be released. They ignored him, tying his ankles together with rope before securing another piece of rope around his legs just below the knees and cinched around his ankles.
Immediately Jason and Mikey’s fingers scraped up and down Kenny's exceedingly sensitive bare soles. After a few moments of this they used toothbrushes to assail the undersides of the nineteen-year-old's toes. Kenny desperately wriggled his toes and made a desperate attempt to retract his feet, but his ankles were cinched too securely together. Agent Vorhees and Agent Adler alternated between using a feather and a hairbrush and their own fingers. They inserted the brush's bristles between the Affable blond's perfect bare toes--used them to individually graze over each digit. Kenny's laughing screams reverberated throughout the gymnasium, but they were music to the ears of both Agent Vorhees and Agent Adler.
"Stooooooooooooppppp!! Hahahahahahahahaha!!!!!! Heeheeheeheeheeheehee heeee heeee heeee heeee heeee heeee heee!!!!! Hahahahahohohohoheheheheha ha ha ha!!! No! Nooooooooooooooooo!!" Kenny shrieked. Except for his bare feet, the nineteen-year-old was still dressed.
"Amazing." Agent Vorhees said, staring down at the captive nineteen-year-old as he tore away the boy’s clothing. "And I thought Marianne could ‘endure’ for the greatest length of time!"
The Affable blond’s sleek, nubile and now naked body was sheathed in a layer of perspiration. And, surprisingly, his manhood seemed to hum with desire. So much so that this must have Agent Vorhees and Mikey attacked Kenny's feet with their fingers again. They moved their fingers in both zigzag patterns and circles around his smooth soles. The affable blond screamed . . . and he spoke openly of how his private parts were throbbing and pulsating with excitement. There was fire in his already hot spot. This fire was being stoked higher and higher with each drag of the toothbrushes and with each and every scrape of Jason and Agent Adler’s fingers against his ultra-sensitive soles.
"Hee-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-hahahahahaha-hehehehehehe!!!!" shrieked Kenny as Agent Vorhees and Agent Adler attacked his bound feet with more vigor than ever before. "Please!!!!-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-heese heee heese heese heese heese N-ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ha ha he he! N-No more!!!
Heheheheheheheheheheheheheha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!!! Please!!!!-hee-hee- hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee-heese heee heese heese heese heese N-ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ho ha ha he he! N-No more!!!"
"Whoa!" Agent Vorhees said, clamping a hand to his ear to protect it from Kenny's high-decibel screaming laughter.