WARNING: As you can probably tell from the title, this is a tickling fetish story with Spyro The Dragon. If this disturbs you, I can fully understand, but please hit the back button on your browser now and don’t post angry comments.
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Entering the next room, the purple dragon could immediately see the contraption that he would have to use to progress. It seemed to be a regular set of stocks, however they were positioned in front of an odd square-shaped metallic machine. He could not see any actual tools around or anything, which gave him some hope, but he knew the large box must have been hiding secrets. Another note had been laid down on the floor next to the entrance again. This time, it reads:
“Dear victim,
As promised, this room ahead could potentially cause you great pain. However, it's my pleasure to inform you that it is all down to your actions whether you suffer pain or not. Do the right thing, and you could get through here with only tickling. However lose control and you may find yourself in a very agonising situation.
You must place your feet into the stocks ahead of you. Once you are secured, the machine in front will activate. A variety of tools to tickle your trapped feet are included, and you will be tested to your limits, however your reactions are key. Another little quirk of this machine is that it can sense your laughter and convert the energy from your giggles to power to activate it's stronger function – a brutal bastinado machine. You will be tickled for 30 minutes straight, after that, the bastinado will be activated. If you have laughed heartily, you will suffer a great beating on your soles. However, control yourself and hold in your laughter – and the machine may not be able to activate at all, you will simply be released.
Your reactions will be your downfall in this game, victim. Good luck.”
Spyro apprehensively moved forward towards the stocks. He didn't have any choice of course – he did have to escape and this was the only way. However he knew from his previous few days of torture that holding in laughter was not particularly his strong point. He absolutely, definitely, did not want to suffer a beating again. His feet were already aching from the exhausting treadmill. So now he would have to really test himself to see if the threat of pain could make him restrain his own reactions. He slowly placed his purple hind-feet into the wooden stocks, which were weirdly comfy compared to the ones he had been placed in beforehand, and took a few deep breaths before he shut the stocks and secured himself in tight, activating the machine.
A panel on the front of it slowly opened, revealing a set of two feathers to the now-stocked dragon. Without any delay, before he could even apprehensively squirm his toes backward, the feathers slid forward out of the slot and laid themselves directly onto the soft soles of Spyro's exposed feet.
The first bout of tickles weren't too bad – only a pair of very long but soft and silky feathers, continuously and slowly stroking themselves up and down his scaly soles, all the way from his heels to his toes. It definitely tickled for sure – but it was more of a gentle, teasing tickle. Like what the torturer used on him at the very beginning, but now that he had gone through so much worse, he was able to maintain his cool despite the feathering sensations. He curled his toes tightly and splayed them every few seconds, as a coping mechanism to slightly soothe the irritating tingles caused by the feathers sliding on his feet. This light, gentle teasing to his smooth soles continued for five minutes – at which point Spyro saw two more feather emerge from the machine.
The two swishing on his soles did not stop – however they did slightly increase speed and move downwards to focus exclusively on his soles. This left room for the two new feathers to make their way towards his plump toes and begin sliding across, around, and most importantly, between those pudgy little piggies. Between his toes was a very tender spot, so despite the feathers still being very gentle and silky and only giving him light tingling sensations – Spyro began to visibly wince. He accidentally let out a very quiet, soft squeal upon feeling them slide between his digits for the first time, which resulted in a small light, in the corner of the machine, briefly illuminating. That signalled to Spyro that the machine was indeed monitoring any noises he emitted, and he had to be very careful.
Although he kept wincing and squirming, and his toes were vibrantly wiggling every which way, Spyro did manage to keep his noises in for the next five minutes, as the feathers assaulted both his smooth soles and his plump toes. However, as the feathers began to slow down, Spyro could see that a bigger problem was emerging from the machine – a pair of rough-bristled brushes.
He braced himself, clenching his toes and gritting his teeth as the brushes placed themselves onto his soles, but it only took a few swipes up his foot for the dragon to know that this was going to be a challenge. Brushing and scraping vigorously up and down his helpless feet, Spyro's entire body squirmed, partially unwillingly, but also the dragon began to deliberately try to squirm forcefully in order to get his reactions out physically instead of verbally. After all, the thought of a beating on his soles was a psychological threat to him, so he had a lot to work against to ensure his own comfort for later on in the test. The brushes attacked him for another five minutes, until his purple soles were nice and smooth, feeling like tingly static from the ravages of the harsh bristles that were forcing themselves upon his hindpaws.
Another panel opened. This was the 15 minute mark, the halfway point. He had made it this far, he HAD to last through the next 15 minutes. At first, the new tools didn't look too threatening at all – only a series of electric brushes, but they were very small and circular and did not look like they would cover much of his soles at all. But then Spyro noticed that the brushes on his soles showed no sign at all of stopping, and he saw the circular tiny brushes move upwards. It was then that he realised that those brushes were doing something much more evil – they were heading straight for the spaces between his toes.
Forcing their way in before Spyro could curl up his toes in defence, he found himself unable to even wiggle them as the circular devices forced his toes apart harshly. Slowly increasing speed as they began to spin, Spyro found it harder than ever to hold in his laughter. Just one minute passed, of the evil small brushes spinning around and tickle torturing the tender, sensitive spaces between his purple toes, and Spyro could not completely hold it in anymore – he let out another yelp, a little louder, and the light on the machine lit brighter than before for a couple of seconds. His heart continued to race as he was tortured not only by the bristles at his feet, but also the sight of the light indicating the increasing power to the inevitable falaka.
Every thirty seconds or so, Spyro let out a cute, high-pitched yelp from the tickling, seeing the light flash every time. He was being tormented so harshly by his own need to resist the temptation to laugh, it felt like a years worth of loud giggles and laughter were trapped inside his body just desperate to escape! Finally he eventually got some relief, when the brushes stopped and he could at least catch his breath – although even that was difficult to do without making noise – but he knew there was a full ten minutes of torture left – and it was bound to be the worst yet.
Spyro watched intently as another panel on the machine opened. These panels sure did love opening slowly to taunt the poor dragon. And taunt it did, as when it was opened fully, the poor young dragon was treated to the sight of two metal pinwheels – well, actually, six metal pinwheels, as each one had 3 different heads. Out of pure reflex, he attempted to squirm away violently from the pinwheels as they slowly approached his trapped soles, knowing that he would be unable to control himself – but there was no getting away for those ticklish feet!
The pinwheels touched his heels, and automatically his toes splayed wide at the tickly prick of them. As they began to slowly roll themselves up, Spyro knew there was not a chance he could hold in laughter. He had to let it out – those pinwheels were so tickly and prickly, and evil! Very quietly and softly, and covering his muzzle with his hands, he began to gently giggle. It didn't really help at all, since he desperately wanted to laugh out loud in ticklish agony – but light giggling really was the least he could do. The light on the machine turned on – it wasn't bright at all, but it was continuous. It could hear those soft cute giggles of his, and it was remembering every little squeal, ready to punish him for it later. He just had to hope it wasn't powering it too much.
Pinwheels seemed to be Spyro's weakness. The sensation of the small metal pins rolling ruthlessly across his soft, smooth, tender bare feet, giving them a very harsh, prickly tickle feeling – he wanted to absolutely scream with laughter, but he forced himself to stick to low, soft giggles and moaning.
8 minutes passed, and Spyro was beginning to see hope. He hadn’t broken yet, the machine couldn’t have been powered that much by those pathetically quiet moans of his, so he still had a chance at making it out safely. Also, there seemed to be no upgrade to the tools after five minutes, so he would only have to go through two more minutes of the pinwheels, right? However, he wasn't quite prepared for just how evil this machine would get in the final two minutes...
All of a sudden, Spyro saw all of the machine's panels re-open, revealing the feathers, brushes, pinwheels, circular brushes, all from before, as well as a set of six new very tiny pinwheels. He couldn’t even process what was happening before the intensity struck – his poor purple feet were just hit with a wave of unbelievable tickling sensations, the harshest torture they had felt yet. He couldn't hold it in – he opened his mouth wide and laughed, laughed even more, and kept laughing.
His poor feet were being tortured by every tool possible – Two feathers stroked teasingly against his heels, whilst those evil three-headed pinwheels continued to cruelly roll against his tender arches. The brushes scrubbed the balls of his feet and just beneath the toes, whereas the toes themselves were suffering an unspeakable tickling – feathers sliding between the tips and claws, circular brushes really digging in hard to the spaces between his toes, and most of all – one small pinwheel for each defenceless toe, rolling rapidly up and down it, punishing his poor soft toes with the most evil tickle torture imaginable. The laughter was very loud, the light was very bright – this two minutes could have ruined the whole thing for him.
The tickling came to an end very suddenly, after thirty minutes exactly had passed. His feet were tingling like he had never felt before as the tools all retreated back to the machine. The only thing he wanted in the world at that point was a good long foot massage. Hell, even a soothing licking to his feet would have done. Unfortunately, Spyro knew that it was time to find out how much actual torture he was about to suffer. He was disappointed in himself for not being able to hold in laughter – so what would the machine detect?
His heart raced as he saw a panel open at the top of the machine that appeared to expose what looked like a leather flogger, with three separate tails on it. His soles were already tingling with anxiety just looking at it. He watched wide-eyed as he saw the flogger move forward and lift up. He had obviously done enough to activate it – but how long would it go on for? Not being able to take the anxiety any longer, the dragon closed his eyes.
Seconds later, he heard an odd click sound, and felt the harsh stinging slap of the flogger directly down the arches of both feet. Taking a sharp intake of breathing and yelping in pain, he could hear the mechanism of the flogger lifting up again, followed by another click, followed by a loud smack as the flogger contacted the tender flesh of his bare feet once more.
Still gritting his teeth and closing his eyes, Spyro tried to take his mind off the pain, thinking about his eventual escape from this hell-hole and ignoring the extreme stinging on his soles and toes. The aftershock of each smack made his toes curl up and quiver, as his poor feet trembled at the mercy of the brutal whipping tool.
He felt the flogger take another hard smack against his increasingly quivering and squirming soles, then another, then another, then another, then another, then...nothing. He heard the mechanisms get louder as the flogger retreated back into the machine, and he felt the beautiful freedom of the stocks automatically loosening around his ankles. Expecting the beating to go on for minutes, he received a pleasant (albeit still very painful and stingy) surprise of only receiving seven strokes on his feet. So he can hold in his laughter then...sort of.
Before moving onto the next room, Spyro absolutely had to tend to himself after that session – he spent a good five minutes sat down, rubbing and massaging his own tortured little hind feet with his handpaws. He never knew it could feel so good before – the feeling of his soft, smooth soles on his hands as well as the soothing, relieving foot massage he was giving to himself. Even sliding his fingers between his toes made him feel good – they felt a lot nicer than the brushes for sure. He immediately became a lot happier and even smiled. He ended by rubbing his feet against each other for a minute or so, giving his toes a wiggly workout to further soften the tingling, before standing back up again.
Wasting no further time, he made his way through the newly unlocked door into the next room, wondering what sort of horror awaited his tormented feet paws in here...
