by Soul Tickler
My appointment was at 8am. I hardly slept that night and looked tired in the morning.
I had to be there earlier to fill out the papers so I forced some coffee down and got ready. Linda drove me there before work. This was all her idea afterall. She kept saying how proud she was of me doing this, so skipping it was out of question. Her phycologist would never agree anyway. We had a "toxic masculinity" issue to deal with or it could kill our marriage. We didn't want that, did we? Brad, my big brother, said I was crazy to agree. Toxic masculinity was woke shit to him. Let's face it, women get attracted to self-confident men, this is just the way things are. Linda's phycologist thought it's not self confidence but secret weakness that makes men toxic. Brad thought the phycologist was a lesbian.
I kissed my wife goodbye and entered TCTM. The man behind the desk gave me a detailed questionnaire to fill and a contract to sign that I was about to spend four weeks to this nonsense "of my own free will". I nervously singed the stack of papers. I followed a male nurse to a room where I handed over all of my personal belongings, the cell phone included, and removed all clothing and underwear, passing it over, neatly folded, to him. I was no six-pack, but solid nonetheless. The nurse had me to a scale and weighed me. I was asked to stand on each foot, strech my arms and show my tongue. I was walked barefoot and bare-assed to the showers through a large room filled with men watching TV. They were all dressed in white hospital gowns and slides. The place looked a lot like prison, with tables and chairs bolted to the ground and immovable, cameras in every corner recording.
The nurse watched me shower with his arms crossed. He told me to hurry up with a stern tone that made me obey. I was given a hospital gown and a pair of slides, no underwear, two towels, toilet paper, a toothbrush and a tooth paste. We passed many doors on the way to the cell. It was a windowless but bright room thanks to big lamps on the ceiling, with two wall-mounted stainless steel beds, plus a stainless steel toilet and a stainless steel hand basin. I stared at someone's towel left hanging to dry.
"You'll be fed three meals a day. You'll be tickled at least twice. Respect your fellow inmates. Address all nurses as sirs. Keep in mind that breaking a rule leads to punishment. That's all for now. Wait for Dr Smith to call you".
I nodded my head.
The solid metal door buzzed shut.
* * *
Dr Smith's office had a rich, professional feel to it. The doctor was seated behind his desk reviewing some paperwork. He seemed to be around the early 40s, lean and athletic, starting to gray at the temples, but it turned out he was 50 years old, single, no kids and owner of TCTM. I was brought in by a large nurse who could easily subdue any unruly inmate, now standing in the door frame, practically filling it. Dr Smith looked up at me with sparkly eyes and a bright smile. We shook hands and he offered me a sit.
"So Marshall, what brings you here?"
"Linda, my wife, heard about you and thought we should give this a try, sir. I guess she thinks I'm a bad husband".
"What do you think, Marshall?"
"That even if I am, a couple of weeks here can't change that" I answered in full honesty. A video camera on tripod facing me was recording.
Dr Smith didn't think we men are bad, it's the way we are raised. We follow a stereotypical role deeply anchored in our subconscious, modeled for us by our parents and grandparents. If a boy is taught from an early age that vulnerability is weaknesses, that men are not allowed to show feelings, sooner or later a disturbed perception will develop. Even in relationships that appear incredibly loving on the outside, toxic traits can lie dormant. We were here to fix that.
"We live in a society that drives people crazy always asking for more. The TCTM is about letting go, giving away control. There is a moment when tickling goes from torture to something else, a liberating feeling, we just drop out too quickly to know". Dr Smith spoke in measured, calm tones. He seemed very smug and self-satisfied. I noticed him staring at my feet. Was he a faggot? I was asked to remove my gown and lie on the exam table. "Take a deep breath, Marshall" he ordered as he put his stethoscope on my bare chest and listened to my crazy heart beating. "Strong as a bull!" he exclaimed giving my shoulder a quick squeeze.
The large nurse looked at the doctor who answered with a nod. The man plugged an electric trimmer and ran it around my genitals, removing a small pile of public hair on the ground. I protested when I realised he was about to put me in a chastity cage but Dr Smith said it was all written down in the papers I signed (but didn't read). The nurse's hands were busy on my crotch area, attaching the rings and the cage, then snapping it all into place. It was bulky and the added weight felt strange.
Dr Smith kneeled by my feet. I was dry mouthed as he seemed to be studying my size 11s. "Nice soles there bud". I just smiled, caught off guard by the comment. "High arch, long meaty toes and soft looking". He leaned closer and sniffed. "Mmmm… musky scent, but clean. Big silky male meat feet!" When I felt his warm tongue in between my toes, I tried to pull away. "Happy to see you're ticklish as your wife promised me, Marshall. We'll have time for that later" he said and I was led back to my cell.
* * *
Todd was 38 years old, 6'4, 240 pds, a big macho football-and-beer guy who had no problem telling others what he thinks. The TCTM was his wife's suggestion to withdraw the lawsuit against him after a fight so big that the neighbors ended up calling the police. His lawyer advised him he'd better accept it so Todd did. He told his friends he'd be on a long bussiness trip. Todd disliked Dr Smith the moment they met.
"If only he was just a faggot! The guy is a freak! Wait till he licks your feet".
"He already did" I admited.
"He licks mine every fucking day" Todd said in disgust.
I could tell he was locked in chastity too under that gown. Having free access to our dicks was considered a privilege men like us didn't deserve. We spent the day watching TV in the large room. There was also a ping pong table and a group of men that played cards. Sunday was a day off for all. There were plenty of people in the room and Todd introduced me as his cellmate. I asked him about a man in his very early 20s mopping the floor naked.
"That's Frankie. He lost his gown rights for 24 hours. It's a frequent form of punishment here".
That night, once the lights were off, I took advandage of the privacy to use the toilet. I could still tell the outline of things thanks to a red exit light above the door. Having to piss sitting was a side effect of the cage. The first drops were hard to go, but once in flow, I emptied my bladder in relief and crashed out face up on the bed. Todd was sleeping soundly. I felt the pressure of an erection in my crotch area, but I could not create an actual erection because of the cage. It was a strange feeling. I tried to remove it or slide out and was impressed at how secure the thing was on my body. I tried to fit my finger inside but the hole at the tip was too small. The cage was starting to drive me crazy already.
* * *
I woke up to the sound of male laughter. Ι instinctively looked around for my cell phone, forgetting for a moment where I was. Dr Smith had started his morning visits from cell to cell. Todd was doing some push-ups when a nurse came to prepare us for the tickling. The nurse added medical restraints to our beds and had us both naked. I didn't dare to resist, as he strapped my wrists, ankles, and added 3 straps across my body. I should be at work by now, doing my every day boring stuff which I normally hated but suddenly missed, yet here I was, hearing all these grown up men screaming their lungs out, while waiting for my turn. I felt an itch on my nose but had no way to scratch it. I tested the bonds to see if I could get free and started to sweat as I realized how helpless I was.
Dr Smith entered our cell smiling, followed by two nurses pushing a medical trolley. "How are we today, boys?" There was a number of items on the trolley, including feathers, hair brushes, an electric toothbrush and what looked like a baby oil bottle. He tipped a generous portion of that into the palm of his hand and spread it all over Todd's soles, then searched on the trolley for the proper instrument.
"Oh god, no! Not that brush again!" Todd pleaded.
"Is our big boy afraid of the brush? Are your tootsies too ticklish to take it, sweetie?" He lifted a paddle off the trolley. "Would you prefer the paddle again?"
Todd shook his head no in regret. His face expression didn't suit that of a macho man. When the brush touched his foot, he thrashed like mad in no time, squirming and bouncing his ass on the mattress. The men gave each other a knowing smile. Dr Smith rubbed the crotch of his pants and I noticed a bulge underneath. He used a wooden spoon to spank Todd's soles into a red/pinkish color. Then he ordered the nurses to Todd's sides as he attacked that big foot some more.
"PLEEEEEEEEEESE!!! DON'T TICKLE MEEEE! Hee hee hee hee hee hee!!! Oh no. STOP IT!!! Ha ha ha ha ha ha!!!!!"
Todd was begging but to no avail. His face was red from laughter and sweat covered his body. He was absolutely hysterical and screamed and laughed and coughed when the electric toothbrush touched his belly button. Having a big man scream like a school kid might be fun to watch, but let me tell you, when you know you're next, it's not. In the end he looked like he was about to cry, there was no fight left in him.
Dr Smith then came for me. He dragged his index finger slowly from my heel to the ball of my foot with the nail scraping just enough to make me clench my toes. His touch slowly shifted into tickling, drawing little circles with all five fingers around the high arch, stimulating countless nerve endings. I pressed my lips tight together and tried not to laugh so he picked up the pace just a little bit. "Let go, Marshall" he encouraged me, "showing some weakness will do you no harm". These fingers were killing me. I slammed my eyes shut and swallowed hard. No sound emerged until several seconds later. The laugh came forth in a burst like a roar.
"Doctor! OH! C'mon, please! Ha ha ha ha!!! Hee hee! PLEASE DOC!!! Ha ha ha ha!!!!!"
"It's sir to you, Marshall".
"Sorry, SIR!!! You're right, SIR! Ha ha ha ha ha!!!!!"
That was the last words I could speak before I dissolved into laughter. A feeling of utter hopelessness took over and all I could do was struggle to free myself, yet these leather restraints would keep me in place no matter what. Dr Smith kept telling me this was for my own good. I screamed and thrashed the best I could, pleading for release, when something happened that I wouldn't have guessed. I was getting aroused and started to leak precum.
"My my" he said seductively, "getting a bit excited over this, aren't we?"
I turned bright red with embarrassment. He patted my face as if he had his answer and went back to tickling me. His fingers danced over my stomach, slowly working their way up to my nipples which he pinched and teased. His tongue licking behind my ear as his fingers tickled around my so sensitive neck area, had my cock leaking big time. He worked my body over, finding spots I never thought would be ticklish. I was still squirming when it was over.
Dr Smith scooped some precum with his finger and offered it to wide-eyed Todd. "Wanna taste your bud's babymakers?" Todd shook his head a terrified no. "Maybe next time" Dr Smith said with indifference as he licked the finger clean himself. He took a tissue and wiped my caged dick dry. The nurses untied us and left the room. I stared at the ceiling through watery eyes, breathing heavily, my whole body covered in sweat.
* * *
Dr Smith called me the next day to his office for an one-on-one, no nurses present. He walked around his desk smiling, then sat at a chair next to me and pulled my feet in his lap. His hands felt warm against my skin. He slowly began rubbing my left foot, taking his time under the arch, massaging the heel. He wanted to know more about me and I ended up talking about my big brother, how he used to torture me when we were kids. Brad would beat the shit out of me and mercilessly tickle me every time. He never missed my feet and if I wore socks, he would strip them bare. I always screamed so loud that mom would come to break it all up.
I remember one Saturday when mom and dad had gone to an out of town wedding, Brad wrestled me to the living room floor and wouldn't let me go for hours unless I sucked his stinky big toe, which I did eventually, crying tears of frustration. Brad is that kind of guy. Dominant, insensitive, aggresive, a nasty mind. Thank god he started chasing after girls in high school and forgot all about me.
Dr Smith was getting off on my story. I could tell he was sporting a nice hard on under his pants. I tried to act normal but he winked at me, giving a quick nod. With that he pressed my foot down that pants, holding it there against his erection. His eyes closed and he let out a soft moan. I should have punched him in the face but I didn't. He said we should bring Brad to TCTM and asked if my brother was ticklish, which honestly I didn't know. I never dared to tickle him back cause I was afraid of him. He was much stronger and an asshole. "Ticklers are usually the best ticklees" the doctor pointed out so I thought that might be true for himself.
Exiting Dr Smith's office I saw a man standing naked in the corner, hands on the head, his nose touching the wall. Lucas was a 54-year-old carpenter, the oldest among us, 5'11, 220 lbs, with a goatee and balding on top, father-of-two and a pretty nice guy. I approached, wanting to know what happened.
"They say I showed disrespect to a nurse but I didn't mean to. It's just that I lose my mind when they tickle my feet. I'm not myself when I get tickled" he complained while still facing the wall. "I didn't mean to be disrespectful" he repeated once more.
"It's ok, pal" I tried to calm him down. "Keep doing what you're told. Naked or not, who cares?"
"Easy for you to say. I used to have a body like yours when I was your age".
Later that day Lucas was sitting at a table all alone (and still naked) so I brought two cups of coffee and we had a little talk. He said he hated getting old. He hated his beer belly and could tell his wife's disappointment now when shirtless. He said people tend to think of tickling as something that fades with age, but truth is it doesn't. It can be as effective for a middle-aged man as it is for a boy. He missed being a careless little boy, getting tickled by his father until he peed his pants, and Dr Smith's fingers was the next best thing. Despite everything he had to go through, at nights Lucas was having the most peaceful sleeps.
* * *
Shawn and Leo didn't know what hit them that night, when a van stopped and some men forced them inside. They were both drunk as fuck and didn't prove to be much of a challenge. Their girls had been fed up with their petty thefts, so they contacted TCTM and asked for help. The girls provided Dr Smith with enough evidence to send the punks to jail for good if they didn't cooperate and Dr Smith assured the girls by the end of the program both young men would have proper jobs. Shawn was 19, 5'11, 165 pds, in and out of juvenile facilities since he was 14. Leo was 18, 6'2, 180 pds, a face with deep eyes, long lashes and a perfect nose, now pleading in desperate low groans, moans and whispers, for Dr Smith to have mercy.
"I beg you, sir! Please!!! I'll die of laughter!" his cocky teenager voice cracked.
"You won't die, Leo! Don't be silly! We will make sure you're very alive throughout the whole process".
I believe Dr Smith was in love with Leo cause he tickled him the most. That boyish scream echoed throughout the building like birds chirping. When his torture was finally over, I knew mine was about to begin. The nurse had me strapped down and waiting. Dr Smith entered carrying a hair dryer which he held up for me to see. He used the hair dryer to heat up my strapped down soles until they glowed, then I felt a pointy object slide down my sole making me clench my toes. The sensation was too much. I burst out laughing and struggled like mad as he poked and stroked my super sensitive sole with what I realised was a metal fork. He would test spots all around my feet from my under toes to scrapes along my heels, while picking up the pace. Full tickling by his fingers and the hair dryer blasting made me insane with laughter. I reached a truly remarkable level of desperation.
"Nooooo!!! Please STOP!!! Ha ha ha ha!!!!! Hee hee! I'm begging! NO!!! NO!!! FUUUCCCCKKK!!!!!" I was hoarse with laughter.
"Watch your language, Marshall".
"Sorry, SIR!!!".
"Yes, you will be sorry, my boy. Or maybe not..."
They rolled me on my stomach. Dr Smith slipped on a surgical glove and dipped his middle finger into a lubricant jar. I struggled with all my strength to avoid what was about to happen, but I was just tiring myself out. That finger entered my exposed virgin pink portal easily. When it hit my hard little joy button deep within my bowels, my eyes rolled back. The feeling of panic subsided. I was in a state of total surrender now, drifting in and out of consciousness. No thoughts. No worries. My clenched toes relaxed giving access inbetween to a buzzing electric toothbrush. My dick hurt bad pressing against its cage. That finger poking mercilessly against my prostrate soon had me overstimulated. My stomach muscles turned rock hard and with gurgling gasps, I spit out long ropes of thick gism, forming a wet stain on the sheet.
I collapsed in defeat. When I woke up I wasn't tied down anymore. I scanned the room for Dr Smith but fortunately he was nowhere near. Todd was looking at me with sympathy. I let my head fall back to the pillow.
"You loved it, didn't you?" Todd asked me.
"Huh? I don't know" I mumbled. Tickling made me feel alive, both in bad and good ways, let's just stick to that.
* * *
The discipline room was a new add-on to TCTM. It was a white padded cell with cushions lining the walls and a cushioned floor as well. No bed or other furniture. The first inmate to try it was Mark, a 30 year-old, 5'10, 180 pds delivery guy. I took a look inside through a little window and saw Mark trapped in a white canvas straitjacket, his arms tightly wrapped around his body and crossed in front of him, with the hands secured to his sides, like a caterpillar in a cocoon. He wore a disposable diaper that looked full with pee. His ankles were tied together with velcro wraps so he couldn't stand up. Nurses would come and go tickling his helpless feet day and night. Mark noticed me staring, so he started screaming for help. He struggled like a wild animal for a couple of minutes until he was exhausted.
When I returned to my cell, Todd was already asleep, his big feet sticking out of the blanket. I crashed out face up on the bed still thinking of Mark. The delivery guy would lose his mind if this kept on for long enough. If only I could help him... Unfortunately, I couldn't even help myself...
Sunday morning was visiting hours. When I heard the loudspeakers call my name, I rushed to the room where my wife and brother waited. Linda looked stunning. I was so happy to see her again after a week that seemed like an eternity to me. Dr Smith shook hands with them and chit chatted a bit with Brad. I told Linda she was right about the TCTM as she's right about pretty much everything and she was pleased to hear that. Brad looked around the concrete walls and the men in gowns, in disbelief that a place like this existed. He didn't say much. When time was up, I kissed my wife goodbye.
Dr Smith had me to his office once again asking about Brad. Is he married? What's her name? Do they have kids? Do they get along well? Would Brad ever apply to a program like this? What if Samantha threatens to leave him?
* * *
The next week Dr Smith had a tickle challenge for us all. Cellmate against cellmate, whoever lasts longer. The winner would get free of his cage for the night, while the loser would lose his gown rights for 24 hours. I lathered Todd's 14s with oil and really dug in. There was an unexpected hunger in the way I danced all over those beefy soles. I had tickled girls' feet before, but it wasn't much of a challenge to get them to scream. Making touch Todd beg was different. The intense sensation shot through him. He coughed and gasped for breath and begged in no time, sweat glistening from his muscular body. Dr Smith said I did a great job.
When it was my turn to get tickled, it took Todd a lot more effort to make me beg, which I did of course. Dr Smith left the cell taking Todd's gown and my cage with him. My dick sprang proudly into a very stiff erection. Being 32, I wasn't horny all the time like teenagers are, but it had been more than a week already since I had been fingered.
"Sorry, man. You have great feet, all masculine and massive, but you're more sensitive than my five-year-old nephew".
Todd told me to shut the fuck up half smiling and turned his head the other way. He tried to sleep but I could tell he was burning with sexual frustration. Touching my piece of meat again after so long felt like paradise. I jerked off fantasizing of my wife on all fours, fucking that sexy ass. It was no more than a couple of minutes that I felt my balls tightening. I hurried to the toilet and softly moaned as I shot a huge load. I squeezed out every single drop.
The next morning half the inmates walked around naked. I could tell some felt really bad about it, especially the bigger ones having lost to the smaller, as if ticklishness has anything to do with muscles. "You lost to Marshall?" Frankie asked Todd in disbelief. Todd was having his coffee and didn't feel like talking. Frankie was naked too. He was 21 and skinny. "I was doing fine until that brush touched my toes. I had to plead for the tickling to stop" Frankie said in dissapointment.
Todd whispered to me he couldn't cope with it no more. He wanted out. When it was time to return to our cells, he refused to follow. Todd screamed to the nurse he needed to "fuck some pussy right now or else". I had never seen him like that. The nurse took out a taser gun and ordered the rest of us to our cells. Todd had made a big mistake and was about to make a bigger one, when he attacked the nurse but ended up tased to the floor, his slides flying in the air. He had his arm twisted painfully and pinned against his body in no time. He tried to pull away but he couldn't. I heard more nurses running to the large room. They injected him with something, then dragged him out by his arms, barefoot and semi-conscious. I felt sorry for my man. We never saw Todd again. Rumor has it he did the rest of his time in isolation, strapped down 24/7.
* * *
Robert was a businessman in his 40s and my new cellmate. They brought him early one morning. He had that "I'm not even ticklish" attitute that I bet would lead him to trouble soon. His size 12s were wide but soft looking with pinkish heels and toes, rarely out of shoes and socks. I didn't try to scare him or anything, just warned him about some things. I had learned my lesson by now that acting like a smart-ass never helps around here. I was trying to cause no trouble, always doing what I was told, wanting to spend my last days in peace.
"Trust me, bro. Dr Smith knows all about how to make us squeal like girls".
Robert didn't like to be lectured. He was used to having people under him at work, giving orders, being bossy and all. Well, he lost his gown rights for 24 hours, plus corner time 'til lunch. Not bad for a first day. What would his employees say if they saw big boss standing at the corner like a school kid? I gave his exposed butt a playful slap and all inmates laughed at that. He was in for a major attitude adjustment.
Later that week, Dr Smith sent Robert to the discipline room. Two large nurses had a white canvas straitjacket over his arms in no time and were quickly working on the back straps. They picked up a disposable diaper from the trolley and unfolded it on the bed. Robert was screaming no but it fell on deaf ears. When the diaper was in place, the crotch straps were to be applied. The men easily forced that arrogant businessman into a waiting wheelchair and wheeled him out of the cell.
* * *
The day of my release, Linda was there to take me home. Wearing shoes again, my poor feet felt protected at last. I said all my newfound friends goodbye except for Robert who was still in the discipline room screaming for help. I was given my cell phone back with tons of messages and emails that I couldn't wait to answer. Dr Smith delivered my wife the key to my chastity, I would be under her supervision now. I lowered my head and promised Linda I'd try my best not to let her down. "Let's hope so, honey" was all she said. We didn't exchange a word during the drive home.
Now ol' Marshall is gone. That agressive toxic man has been successfully replaced by a loving husband. I don't sit around doing nothing all day. I don't secretly fuck other women (like I used to). If I want to nut, I have to do the household chores or the cage stays on, it's as simple as that. If I raise my voice, I'm sent back to Dr Smith for the weekend. Linda's psychologist is finally pleased with me. My brother's wife, Samantha, is also impressed with the results. I overheard Linda telling her how I became an expert at cunt licking and body massages since the cage. They hang out a lot lately. Samantha decided Brad should also join TCTM or he will end up seeing his kids only on weekends. My brother wanted to know more about this place so he came to me. He was full of questions and didn't like the answers he was getting. He lodged a very vocal "no way" protest when I pulled down my pants and showed him my cage.
Brad reminds me a lot of ol' Marshall. He wants his dick free and his big soft feet alone.
He is joining TCTM today.
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