a series of tickle fiction by
chapter 11
guard UP
ANDREW
I didn't say anything. I just continued to stare at the growth on Brian's arm. His words kept ringing in my ears. I'm not like the others...because I'm like you. Normally, I would've asked him to elaborate, asked him to explain, but in that moment, I just wanted to leave. I needed to leave. The door was only a few feet behind me. I could make it if I were quick enough. But...what if Brian somehow beat me to it? I remembered how quickly Shay had turned, how fast and strong she'd become.
"Andrew. I'm not going to hurt you."
"Sure," I stammered. "But the gargalites don't necessarily hurt the people they're after, do they?"
Brian smirked. He hadn't moved a muscle, made any attempt to advance at me. "I'm not...going to tickle you either. I told you--I'm not like the others."
"What does that mean?" I finally asked.
"Everyone knows about my infection. Chloe. The rest of my colleagues. The guards."
I felt myself ease, ever so slightly.
"Will you stay?" he asked. "Will you...let me explain?"
I stared at him a long moment. I wasn't stupid. I knew that the gargalites weren't always mindless--not at first. They could be cunning. Crafty. Devious.
Brian lowered himself back to his seat and gestured to the seat across from him. He leaned back in his chair and offered up a smile. "I won't force you," he said. "If you want to leave, you can. Right now. I know this is...unorthodox. All things considered." He chuckled. "I know how this may seem. But I want--I hope--you'll trust me."
I still didn't move. The quiet, still world stretched around me.
Brian studied me for a long time, then he picked up his fork and knife again and returned his attention to his food. He took a bite, chewed, then started to speak. "Every morning, I wake up promptly at five. Before admittance into this facility, I am screened. Vitals. Bloodwork. Scans. Poked, prodded--tickled even." He chuckled, then took another bite, chewed, swallowed. "I've been infected since..." He thought a moment. "Well, since the beginning, I think. Since the outbreaks in Vegas."
My frown intensified. "That's...impossible."
He shrugged as if to signal, 'I don't know what to tell you!' He set his utensils down and took a drink from his glass. "This...thing. It hasn't affected me the same. And I theorize that it has something to do with the way I'm wired." He looked over at me. "Just like you," he repeated.
I set my hands down on the back of the chair in front of me. "I don't understand," I said, though this wasn't entirely true. I was starting to see what he was alluding to, but I wasn't about to drop my guard.
"This organism. It's...quite the enigma. But we understand some things about its behavior. Will you sit?" he gestured to the seat again. "Please."
"I don't...." I shook my head.
"Will having a guard here help?" He pulled out his phone and typed out some sort of message, which he sent. Within seconds, there was a knock on the door. "Come in," he said. The GUARD agent who had escorted me here reappeared. He was armed and wore a protective vest.
"Paul, would you mind staying here while Andrew and I speak. He...knows about my condition. And, understandably, he's a little weary."
"Sure," said Paul with a nod.
I looked between the two of them for a moment. Was is...really possible? I felt dizzy with confusion. "Brian, I-- This is..." I couldn't finish my thought.
Brian sighed. "I'm sorry," he said finally. "I'm probably overwhelming you. Strike that--I know I am. You've dealt with so much already. I should've...eased into this more delicately."
"No, no..." I said, though I agreed.
"Look. Why don't you go back down? Maybe we can speak about this more tomorrow. If you'd like. I'll give you time to process."
I oscillated between concern and curiosity. But I had to admit, as my head swum, I was starting to feel the faint announcement of a headache. And, despite my hunger, I also felt a bit nauseous. Seconds ticked on and, eventually, I said, "Yeah. Maybe that'd be better."
I saw the faintest flicker of disappointment on Brian's face. But he put on a smile again, and nodded. "How about I come grab you in the morning? After some of my work in the lab. Ten o'clock, say?"
"Um. Sure." I turned to the guard--Paul, apparently--and asked, "Can I go see my friend? Jake?"
"Sorry, kid. The medical ward's currently closed to--"
"It's all right," said Brian. "Take him."
Paul nodded and we turned to leave.
"Just be mindful that he's resting, Andrew. He's going to need some time to recover," said Brian. His voice was so tinged with empathy, so articulate and unnerving, that I am lost changed my mind. I almost stayed with him--this strange, fellow tickler. But I glanced at his arm again--saw flashes of Shay and Kyle--and decided against it.
"Thank you," I said.
"Think about what we've talked about." Brian picked his glass up from the table and raised it every so slightly, as if toasting me. "I'll share more tomorrow."
I nodded and then followed Paul back out into the hall. On the way to the medical ward, Paul said, quite casually, "He told you he's infected, huh?"
"Oh. Um. Yeah."
"Strangest thing," said Paul, remaining facing forward as he talked, leading me to the stairwell. "But he's been as normal as the rest of us."
Normal. If only he knew, I thought. What did that even mean? 'Normal'?
"I...don't know what to say," I admitted. "It's a lot to process."
"Sure," said Paul. "But also gives me hope that we can beat this thing."
Though he couldn't see it, I reacted with a very faint, tired smile. "Yeah. Maybe," I said.
It took us about ten minutes to arrive back at Jake's makeshift hospital room--Room 2811. Paul walked me in and gestured to a small chair beside Jake's bed. The room was dark, filled with nothing but the sounds of Jake's soft breathing and the *beep* *beep* *beep* of the endocardiograph. Paul flipped a switch beside the doorframe. It had three settings and he pressed the button for the lowest one--the lights very dimly stirred above us.
"Let me know when you'd like to leave. I'll be outside."
"How long can I stay?" I asked.
Paul hesitated. "I'd say keep it quick, but since Stevens made an exception for you"--it took me a moment to remember that 'Stevens' was Brian's last name--"I'll wait for as long as you need. I'm on night shift anyway." He smiled.
I did too. More evidently. "Thank you," I said, a little surprised at the level of kindness and hospitality I'd received since my arrival.
Paul nodded and stepped out. I returned to Jake's bedside and sat for a moment, watching him, trying to will him back to consciousness. This...kid--sure, only a couple years younger than me, but still--had saved me. Had lost everyone he loved. Just like me.
Just like me.
Brian too, though in a different capacity, was also just like me.
I kept reflecting on his confessions, on my own, on his insistence on the importance of community, and these reflections brought me to the edge of slumber. My headache remained dull. My heart both buoyant (with the divulging of the secret I'd carried for so long) and heavy (with the weight of the world). And then, when I could fight it no longer, I took the plunge.
1 year ago
APRIL 2008
"How long did you say we have?"
"About an hour."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes. Now hold still."
"Wait, wait, wait, wait. I don't know if I wanna do this anymore."
"James, you promised." I looked down at my best friend from my position on the bed. He was currently on his belly on his bedroom floor, chest against carpet, chin resting on his folded arms. His long legs were bent behind him, beautiful socked soles face up in front of me, just between my thighs. I, with the stupidest, giddiest grin on my face, was currently in the process of wrapping stretchy gauze around his ankles. Around and around and around, tightening them together.
This was happening... My heart was already in overdrive, and, as much as I hated to admit it, I had an erection.
"Yeah, I know," said James. "But...this is crazy. I don't think I can take it."
"Well." I finished with my work. "It's...a little late, don't you think?" I teased him, quickly running a few fingers over his socked feet.
"Ah, no! Not yet!" James shouted.
"You're lucky I have no idea what I'm doing. I really wanted to hogtie you."
"I don't even know what that means," said James.
"Doesn't matter. I think this will do." I pulled the seventeen-year-old a little closer to me, dragging him an inch or two along the carpet. He grunted. "Can you move much?"
He tried, swinging his legs--bound together--back and forth within the confines of my thighs. He pushed himself up on his forearms and turned around as much as he could. "Not really," he said.
"Are you uncomfortable?"
"Not really."
"Good." I was wearing that stupid grin again. The poor guy--he'd agreed to let me tickle him again after nearly six months. It was a rather cool spring afternoon, and he'd decided to hang out with me after school. Má and Dad were still at work. And Haley always had some social thing going on -- she had a million friends.
"Five minutes," said James.
"Sure."
"No. Not 'sure.' Five minutes."
"Yep," I said, still rather unconvincingly.
He rolled his eyes and turned back away from me.
"All right." I clapped my hands and rubbed my palms together. "Let's get started."
"Andrew, I swear to g-gahahawd..." James started to giggle as soon as my fingertips returned to his socked feet. He was wearing gray ankle socks that accentuated the length of his beautiful Achilles tendons.
"Just warming up," I said.
"Okayhayhayhay!" James's giggling indicated that this was much more than a mere warm-up. He started to rock from side to side, batting his palms furiously on the ground. The way his two feet curved together--almost like an upside-down heart--his toes towards me, it was one of my favorite sights in the world. James always wriggled his toes in the cutest way, scrunched up and then spread in an alternating pattern between left foot and right.
"Whatsamatter, bud? Ticklish?" Obviously he was, but I wanted to hear him admit it.
"Yeeheeheeheess!" And then the begging came when I started to peel away his socks from around his pink heels. His attempts to stop me were useless, but I enjoyed it just the same. "No! Can't we keep 'em on?" he said.
"Absolutely not." I slipped them off completely and immediately pressed my fingers onto the cool, supple texture of his soles. Slightly damp. Supple. Doughy and soft.
"Andrew! No! Haha!"
I slowly raked my fingertips towards me, my short nails digging into his skin. His feet danced spasmodically.
"EEEHAHAHA!"
I scribbled along the soft canvases like a kindergartner, overwhelmed with excitement and arousal as my friend's crazed, giggly response intensified. I pressed my thumb against the instep of his left foot and scratched way at the taut, white flesh there. I knew James's weakest spots -- I'd been tickling him for years now.
A tickle veteran exploring battlefields I had long traveled.
In his position, James was pretty much powerless. He didn't fight much, just howled with fresh laughter. His chin would drop to the floor, mouth open wide, eyes scrunched shut, blond hair tousled. He was gorgeous.
I brought my right hand to his right foot and my left hand to his left, my hungry fingers nibbling away at the slopes created by his two large soles pressed together. James squealed and rocked back and forth more intensely, but I just brought my thighs closer together, practically scooting myself off the edge of the mattress.
"THIS IS TORTURE! HAHAHA!"
"You're loving it," I said.
"You kn-knohohow I'm nahahahot!"
I gave him a break. James took the opportunity to catch his breath. "You good?"
"No," he said with a pout.
"No?" I faked sympathy. "Well, I have a little surprise that might make you feel better."
"Oh n-no..."
"I've seen this used in many a video, and I've always wanted to try it."
He chuckled. "You're a"--he swallowed--"sadist."
I shrugged. "We all have our vices."
"What are you gonna do?" For some reason, his question excited me in a way I didn't fully understand. Perhaps it was a power trip? My arousal grew more intense. I reached for the pillow beside me and from beneath it, procured one of my sister's hairbrushes. James didn't like the silence. "Andrew?" he said, and turned his head again to look at me.
I struck.
"AHHHH SHIIIIIITTTT!!! HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!" screamed James.
In sync with the heavy heartbeat in my chest, I slammed the bristles down in that crater of his two supple insteps and scrubbed away as hard and as fast as I could manage.
James kept screaming. The seventeen-year-old man on my floor was shrieking like a schoolgirl. "WHAT THE FUHUHUCKHAHAHA!! ANDREW NO! IT'S TOOHOOHOO MUCH! HAHAHAHAHA! PLEEHEEHEEASE! FOR THE LOVE OF GAHAHAHAHAWD!"
"How's that?" I shouted.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
I felt myself getting harder still, my face flushed with passion. James wailed and trembled and laughed. I didn't want to stop, but I also didn't want the guy to completely lose it. So, after a few more seconds of gleeful scrubbing, I pulled the brush away.
"H-holy sh-shit," said James.
I kept quiet. Every extremity in my body was pulsing.
"What was that?" he asked, turning again.
"Haley's hairbrush."
"Fuck. That was insane."
"You know. It's only been, like, three minutes."
"No....." He groaned.
"You catch your breath?"
"No."
"Too bad." I struck again.
"FUCK! OH SHIT! HAHAHAAHA! NOHOHOHO! I SAID NOHOHO!" James shouted. The brush's teeth chomped down onto his toes, sinking into the crevices between them. I loved the sound of the instrument scrubbing away on his skin, like a washboard being played.
"NOT THE TOES! HAHAHAHAHA!"
"Yes the toes," I retorted. God, his feet were perfect. And they were all-- "Ow! HEY!" I felt a pain erupt on my shin. James had grabbed a hardback copy of a book that had been lying on the floor near my desk and whacked it hard against my leg.
"STOP!" he demanded. "HEEHEEHAHAHA!"
"You're just making this worse for yourself," I said. Without thinking, I tossed the hairbrush aside and leapt down from the bed. I squatted over his back and shot my fingers into his underarms.
"FUCK! NO! NO WAY! HAHAHAHA! GET AHAHAHAWFF!" He arched his back and, since his arms were free, he twisted himself away from me, trying to fight. Limbs flailed. We became entangled and I sank down onto him. We wrestled, his ankles still bound, legs flopping around like a mermaid's tail.
"It hasn't been five minutes!" I giggled.
"Too bad!"
"You owe me!"
"I owe you nothing!"
We laughed and hissed profanities, tickling and slapping at one another at random. And, at the end of it all, in some way or another, I ended up on top of him, our legs tangled, my arms extended to hold myself up above him. The energy crackled hot between us. We were both sweating. Panting. Giggling.
And then, without thinking--because my brain was mush at that point and my heart, beating a million miles a minute was in full control--I leaned down and I kissed him. Or, rather, I pressed my lips quickly against his.
His jolt of surprise scared me, I think. He didn't really...kiss back, per se. More like gasped. Went rigid. And so I flung myself backwards off of him, desperately apologizing.
"Shit! I'm so sorry!"
"It's, um. It's fine," he said quickly. But he looked confused. Concerned even.
"No, it's not. I'm sorry," I said again. "Shit. I don't know why--"
"It's okay," he said. "Really."
"Sorry." I kept saying it. I couldn't look at him. I felt hotter than before. The silence between us suddenly grew gross and thick.
"Um. You mind?" He sat up, offering his bound ankles to me. I could tell he was trying to smile, but his eyes reflected something I couldn't decipher.
"Sure." Even though he was fully capable with his arms free, I still reached over and began to unwrap his ankles from the gauze.
James was silent the entire time.
After I'd finished, he stood. "I gotta use the restroom real quick," he said. He stood, patted me on the shoulder as he passed, and left me alone, stewing in shame.
"Shit," I said again, and my eyes began to burn.
PRESENT
NOVEMBER 2009
I opened my eyes. Everything around me was still quiet and calm. Through the window of Jake's hospital room, I could see the sky, gray-blue with the earliest inklings of approaching dawn.
I sighed.
*Beep* *beep* *beep*
And then: "Andrew?" Jake's voice.
My breath hitched and I looked over towards the bed. I saw him stirring, brow furrowed. He coughed and hissed as he tried to move.
"Jake! Oh my god!" I said, jumping to my feet. "You're awake!"
"Where--? Where am I? What... what happened?"
"Hold on," I said quickly. "We're fine. We're safe. I just-- Hold on!" I ran to the door, but he called after me.
"Andrew." His voice, though recovering, still evidently cracked with the telltale sound of grief. I stopped and turned back to him.
"Kyle," he muttered.
My heart sank.
"Kyle's....gone."
I hesitated. "Yes. I'm...so sorry, Jake."
He didn't reply for a moment. He shifted in his bed, pulling himself up. His face contorted as he held back tears. "It's--" He cleared his throat. "I... was so stupid."
"No." I returned to his bedside. "You weren't."
Jake laughed bitterly. "Yes, I was. I lost him a long time ago, Andrew."
I lowered my head.
"I was just--- I wanted to help him."
"I know."
"But the way he changed back at the apartment. What he did to you, to me..."
"I'm so sorry," I said again. Jake sniffed and wiped at the tears slowly spilling from his eyes. "I...know you're going to need time. And if there's anything I can do..." I didn't know what else to say. I knew what he was going through, but I remembered how ineffective words were in moments like this. What mattered--at least to me--was knowing that I wasn't alone. So, I reached out and offered my hand. And he took it. And I let him cry for a long time as he shared stories of his younger brother. And I couldn't help but cry too. For him. And for the people I'd lost. My parents. My sister. James. And now Shay.
After our tears had dried and he was comforted--emotionally, not physically (he still winced every time he moved--I told him I was going to get the staff. I exited the room and told Paul what was happening. He radioed the nurse and within minutes, Jake's room was flooded with medical personnel. I was asked to wait outside, where I was later told that I wouldn't be able to see Jake again until later that morning.
"Of course," I said and then Paul, kindly but assertively, said that I needed to return to what he referred to as my 'room.' I agreed and followed him, thinking about how Jake could move forward from this. I had it in my head that I was going to mention Brian to Jake. Jake had ideas about gargalite behavior. He had studied them--and been in close proximity to them--for a long time. Perhaps his knowledge could be of use to Brian.
Brian...
I still wasn't sure how to process what he'd said: 'This thing...it hasn't affected me the same...and it might have something to do with the way I'm wired...'
The way he's wired...
I wondered at the way I was wired too.
1 YEAR AGO
APRIL 2008
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
"Haley?" I stood at the open door to my sister's room.
"Yeah?" She turned from her desk where she was blasting music from her laptop.
"Can I...talk to you?"
"Sure." She lowered her music and waved me in. "What's up?"
I stepped into her room and closed the door behind me, which immediately caused her to furrow her brow. I sat myself at the edge of her bed, staring down at my socked feet. I curled my toes into the carpet and brought my hands together.
"What is it, Andrew?" she said.
"Um." I opened my mouth, but my jaw shook, and I lost the words. There was a heavy silence that was only mildly disrupted by the lyrics of "Dirty Little Secret."
How appropriate.
"Andrew?" My sister's concern was evident in her voice.
"Um." I tried again. "Something...happened yesterday."
Haley joined me at the foot of the bed, sitting beside me. "What? Are you okay?"
"Yeah." I nodded. "Well, actually--"
Haley put a hand on my shoulder. "What's wrong?"
I took a long breath. "James came over yesterday."
"I know."
"And we were hanging out in my room."
"I...know," she said, as if this were common knowledge. And it was.
"We were..." I swallowed. My stomach was sloshing around inside me. My throat was tight. "We were kind of... messing around."
"What do you mean?"
I shrugged miserably. "Like play fighting."
"Okay..."
"And, um. I d-don't know how, but..." I hated the burn collecting behind my eyes. I was shame incarnate. My face was hot. I felt sick.
"Andrew," said my sister softly. "Did you and James...? Did you...?"
I tried to swallow again, but it hurt. I wiped at my eyes. "It was just-- It was just a kiss. I kissed him."
Haley started to rub my back now and I swayed under her comforting touch. "Oh, Andrew..." she said.
I shook my head, sniffling again. "I don't know why. I just did. And it freaked him out. And... a-and I..."
Haley remained silent as I fumbled for the right words.
"I mean, I said I was sorry. And he said it was fine. But then he left kind of in a hurry. And it was awkward. I know it was. And I think--" I started to cry harder. "I think I messed everything up."
"C'mere," Haley said. She pulled me into her and hugged me, letting me cry. "It's okay."
"No, it's not..."
"Thank you for trusting me. For telling me," she said.
I nodded.
"Just... Just give him time."
"I messed it all up," I said again.
"No, you didn't. I know James. It probably just surprised him. But he cares about you, Andrew. He's not going to let this come between you."
"I don't know..." I wiped at my eyes again.
"I do," she said with confidence. "He won't." She went quiet for a long moment. "He...didn't say anything else?"
I shook my head. "I texted him a couple times, but he hasn't replied. Just said it was okay before he left."
She nodded.
"God, why did I....?" I said, but my words broke away. I shifted away from her. I crossed my arms, wanting to curl into myself.
"Why did you kiss him?" Haley finished my question for me, but said it as if it were rhetorical. "Well, maybe you have feelings for him."
"But I'm not gay," I said quickly.
"Andrew, it's okay if--"
"I'm not."
She hesitated. "It's not for me to tell you what you are," said Haley. "But if you were gay, Andrew, I wouldn't care. It wouldn't matter. I love you." She thought a moment. "And I would hope that Mom and Dad would tell you the same."
Our parents. Our conservative, traditional parents...
My dad had expressed his concerns over the closeness of my relationship with James on many occasions. Why are you always hanging out with him? And though my mom would softly scold him, I could tell that she felt the same.
I couldn't help my fascination with James. I thought about him all the time. I thought about tickling him all the time. And maybe the thought of kissing him didn't kill me. Hugging. Cuddling. But...sex? I didn't want sex with him--that I knew. I'd never even thought about it before. So, that meant I wasn't gay, right?
Right...?
"Why don't you talk to him?" said Haley.
"I've tried."
"Give him time," she said again. "But I think you both just need to have a talk. See how he feels too, okay?"
I nodded.
"I'm here for you, okay?" she said and she opened her arms to invite another hug.
After a moment, I accepted.
Author's notes:
Series 2 has undergone intensive revision with the purpose of not only streamlining the narrative, but making it easier to follow. This (new) Chapter
This reconstructed chapter, which contains scenes and segments from various chapters in the old version of Series 2, was first posted on a tickling-focused forum back on March 28, 2011 and has since been edited and revised multiple times.
Last updated: August 9, 2026.
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