by Soul Tickler
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"Is this your signature, sir?"
The papers looked like those Brad had signed to take the pills, which he never actually read. Lucas, the doctor and childhood friend of his, had said it was just typical and pay no attention.
"Why do you ask? Is something wrong? Who are you people?"
The two men standing at his door wouldn't take his questions for an answer.
"Sir, is this signature yours or not?"
"Well, yes..."
"Then, please follow us"
"but, you see I...."
"Please follow us", the man repeated, saying no more.
Brad tried to escape but was easily overpowered. With one man on either side, he was loaded into a van parked outside. That's the last thing he could remember.
He woke up in what appeared to be the room of a clinic, immobilized on a bed, his ankles fastened into stocks and wrists strapped above his head, a leather belt passed around his waist, wearing a hospital gown, nothing underneath. The two men, now wearing white lab coats, entered the room wheeling a small metal table. Doctor would be there in a minute, they said. Ignoring Brad's curses, they went for his big bare stocked feet and started massaging them with baby oil. He tried to break free from their touch but to no avail.
"Brad, please calm down". The moment Lucas entered the room, Brad became furious. What the hell was going on? Where was he? What were these weirdos doing to his feet?
Since his wife had abandoned him, Brad had lost his meaning in life, feeling indifferent toward the people and activities. He couldn't sleep. He couldn't work. He was given some drugs for mild major depressive disorder, still with average results. Well, long-term use now gave him, as his doctor, the right to have him committed, Lucas explained. It was all written in the papers he signed.
"You know I never read them. I've been tricked into this".
"Oh, c'mon Brad. Don't be rediculus. This is for your own good, so please cooperate. Besides, the program only lasts a week. Seven stress-free days that hopefully will help you feel better. That's all. I helped you once and I will do it again".
The attendants had now ropetied each of Brad's toes, streching his soles backwards. Lucas sat down on a chair facing the stocks, his tickling accessories on the metal table next to him. For a moment he stared at Brad's beautiful feet, then took a pen out of his pocket, turned it upside down and started lightly scraching it on the tender skin.
"What's that letter? C'mon Brad. Cooperate".
"It's a T", Brad answered puzzled.
"Very good. This one?"
"I".
The rest of letters were C-K-L-E-M-E. Brad's eyes widened. He started sweating.
"What's the sentence, Brad?" Lucas insisted.
"It's…Tickle Me".
Brad's feet were wide, size 12, well shaped and uncalloused, with beefy toes, his second toe a bit longer than the big one. Lucas selected a large stiff feather and began circulating round and round on the soles of his victim's bare feet, then back and forth across the underside of his immobilized toes. The tickling was light and produced a few giggles.
"No... No! Don't touch me....", Brad was whimpering and mumbling under his breath.
"Just like back in school. Remember?"
He did remember. The day his schoolmates found out he was ticklish, his life had turned into hell. The kids would subdue him, take off his shoes and socks, then tickle him until he would piss himself. Of course that was then and this is now. His big manly feet had nothing to do with those cute little ones. Or had they?
"The room is soundproof so don't mind screamimg if you feel like it", Lucas suggested, a wicked smile his face. The moment those fingers touched his meaty arch, Brad burst out laughing.
"HAHA... N-NOOO! HAHA HA HA HA HHAAH! FUUUCK! S-STOP!... HEE HEE HEE HA HA HM... OH MY! HEHEHEHEE!" His laugh pure and clear. "Dude! OH! C'mon, Ah! HAHA HA HA HA HA HA... FUUUUUCK!"
"I can't believe you're still that ticklish".
Lucas was now excited, scratching all five fingernails up and down these big smooth soles, alternating from one foot to the other, then tickling both soles at once. "I can't believe you're that ticklish", he repeated, his devilish nails torturing Brad's poor feet for good. Having the other two men watching only added to his humiliation.
"Dude, c'mon! We're not alone, you know. Please behave. How old are you anyway!"
"I-I-I... OH! I-I Can't... OOHHHH! HAHA HA HA HA HA HA... F-FUCK YOU LUCAS! HE HE HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"That's the spot, isn't it, Brad? Just do me this favor and don't piss yourself again. You're not a kid anymore, are you? Does little Brad have to go pee-pee? Sould we have our boy diapered? Kootchie koo, little Brad!"
The tickling stopped. Brad was gasping for breath. There was an empty bottle of mineral water. The attendant pointed his dick into the opening of the bottle. In case he needed to relief his bladder, he was said this was his chance. Spill any outside and he would get an extra hour, the attendant warned. Brad let it go. Better now, than having an accident later. Lucas took a tissue and wiped his penis dry. He knew all the right moves to make Brad's humiliation worse. Given some water and a minute to rest, he was then blindfolded.
"Your skin has to be very slippery for next part", Lucas whispered in his ear, more oil added to his feet. "It's time for the brushes".
"Please Lucas, don't use the brushes on me. Please, I can't take it. I'll go crazy". Blindfolded, unable to have eye contact with his fate, he felt the brush working over those smooth, white soles, up under the toes, and then back to the high arch and heel. Brad was shaking inside his bonds. It was nothing like before. His laugh went up an octave.
"HAAAAAHAAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAH!! HEHEHEHEHHHHHEEEEEEEE!! SSShhhit! HA HA HA HA HA! Please! Pl... HAHAHA! OH GOD! Please! C-C'mon NoOO!! HAAAAA HAAA HAHAHAHAHAAHAH!!"
Brad became aware of something which disturbed him. He was getting hard. Soon he had a spreading wet stain of pre-cum on his gown that everyone, well, except him, could now see. What was wrong with him? The attendants rolled up his stained gown over his head, his dick now waving on the air, those big balls hanging between his thighs full of cum.
"Seems like someone is having a good time. I'm glad". Brad's face turned bright-red. "It' ok, dude. You relaxed and felt aroused. That's what men do. Nothing to be ashamed of. That's the purpose of the program. Total relaxation". Brad needed to get off really bad. Though he could never ask for it, he secretly wished for someone to take care of his untouched dick. Here he was, strapped to the bed, his body totally exposed, and blindfolfed, not knowing where he was about to get attacked, and horny as hell.
The attendants wiggled their fingers deep into his stretched out pits. The feeling was so intense and strange. He realised he had been shaved. His pubes had been shaved too, making his hard-on looking ever bigger. The fingers traveled all over his vulnurable body, now moving to the sides, to his bare torso, circling his tits, moving further down towards his belly, while the brushes kept torturing the feet.
"NO! PLEASE! HAHAHAHA HA HA HAHA... I-I-I Can't... HA HA HA HA... I-I... OOHHHH! OH MY... HE HE HAHAHAHAH... C-C'mon NoOO!! I-I-I'm begging... HA HA BEGGING YOU!!! HE HE HAHAHAHAHAH... STOP! OH GOD!"
The tickling continued for three hours non-stop. Tickling a kid's feet is one thing. Making tough Brad beg was a different matter. When the blindfold was off, his eyes remained closed. Whatever was going through in his mind, he was off in a world of his own, his hard dick still untouched and leaking pre-cum.
***
Three weeks after his tickle torture and cum denial week was over, Lucas thinking he would never see him again, he had a call from Brad. He was feeling kind of sad. He said he couldn't sleep at night and once more needed the doctor's help. Brad hesitated at this point, "I'm not talking about pills". Lucas smiled.
"Be here in half an hour", he ordered.
It was time he took care of that hard-on, too.
