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Tickling

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Ghostly Tickling

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by Seraphon

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"Are you sure we should be in here?"

The Bunnelby hopped along nervously, clutching the camera close to her chest, the brown tips of her ears quivering. The majority of her coat was grey - what was on show, at least - and Mixy glanced anxiously between the long gaping hallway, like a maw that was about to swallow her up whole, and her friend and partner on the project, a chirpy Pikachu Pokemorph who knew her fairly well and went by the name 'Phoenix'. More outlandish and outgoing in her yellow fur and rosy red cheeks, she barged ahead with their notebook, intent only on setting up the scenes that she would have Mixy photograph for their work.

"C'mon, you're dragging behind!" She called back, an impish grin on her round muzzle. "We wouldn't be here if the lecturer hadn't said it was all okay - I checked! You worry too much..."

"I don't know... It's just so cold in here..."

Shivering as if for added effect, Mixy tugged the sleeves of her jacket down, although they did not reach any further. She'd thought she'd dressed conservatively for the project they'd been assigned at the college they both went to but even her thick 'hoodie' didn't seem to ward off the chill of the abandoned building, apparatus and furniture left in the asylum as if the occupants had left in a hurry. And just who would want to return to a Victorian-era asylum where heaven knew what happened to those who were unfortunate enough to find themselves as inpatients?

No... That one didn't bear thinking about. And yet she still had to think about it, at least in part, for the sake of the project. She was yet to get a bad grade on anything she undertook and she wasn't about to start even if her project-mate seemed to be a little more interested in exploring rather than getting photographs taken and all the scenes that they needed done and dusted.

"Hey! This must have been a ward!"

Ducking into a side-room, Phoenix hustled her on and, whimpering, all Mixy could do was hold her camera all the closer for some sense of comfort and follow along, something tightening in her chest. Was that a chill tingling through her or just the cold? The windows had been blown out some time ago so there was little insulation to be had in a building that should have been a hospital and refuge but had become something far sicker and more twisted over its many years of horrific use.

The ward was no better, a sad remnant of times gone by, even if it was good that they had gone by. The beds were askew, metal frames glaring in the bright sunlight that streaked through dust motes swirling in the air, and there was some bedding still left, dirty and torn: all except for the one bed, that was. One was made up pristinely, the corners folded so neatly that it was as if a ward matron had been standing whoever it was who had felt as if they had to make the bed so neatly at all costs.

"Perfect!" Phoenix shouted, jumping into the air as if her joy at finding such a spot could not be held back. "This... Oh, we should keep looking, who knows what we'll find!"

"Phoenix, we have to get started proper now," she said more firmly, drawing herself up a little taller as if to make herself seem a little stronger and more imposing. "You've had your fun... I don't want to stay here longer than needed and that's that!"

For she was not always so meek and shy, even if it took her a while to get up the voice and nerve she needed in order to say what, sometimes, so very desperately needed to be said. And there was no way she was going to let Phoenix get her any kind of bad grade through goofing off as she was so prone to do!

The Pikachu clicked her tongue against the roof and turned, lips parted to say something. Her words, however, were lost as the sheet whipped itself up from the single, made up bed and wrapped itself around her arms, pinning them down to her sides in a ghostly sort of bondage.

And then things happened very quickly, so quickly that one would have been forgiven entirely for thinking that their eyes just may very well have been deceiving them. Phoenix lunged protectively for Mixy - or, at least, tried to. The ghosts (for what else could such ethereal shapes be called?) restrained her too swiftly, hanging her in the middle of the room where she spun and spun and spun with her wrists pulled up over her head like a wicked kind of children's top.

"What's happening?! Get off me! Aghhh!"

But it was hardly the time to cry for help as they were both whipped back onto the bare metal of the beds, paws pinned up above their heads as the Bunnelby's camera hung, dangerously, off to the side. As much as they squirmed and shrieked, the images of other Pokemon briefly coming into view in the otherwise shapeless mist that made up the ghosts - definitely an Eevee and a Lopunny too - they were restrained quite firmly, the ghosts of those who had inhabited the asylum many years back now set to have their fun with yet another pair of wayward mortals.

Their faces swam in and out of view, the grey-blue misty matter that they were made up of allowing them to float and swim about the room, no longer bound by such things as mortal constraints. No, they were ghosts and any laws or rules no longer applied to them as they giggled and flitted about, circling them in a streaming, glistening swarm that was entirely unaffected by the albeit weak shafts of sunlight slanting into the ward that had found an entirely new use for itself.

"Let us go!" Mixy shrieked, however her voice wavered fearfully. "We won't tell anyone you're here - just please, oh, please let us go!"

Phoenix joined in, although there was nothing she could do to protect her friend even in the moment as the Pokemorph squirmed and fought, eyes wide and staring, heart pumping without seeming to drive enough oxygen-rich blood through her body to all the places it needed to go. For some reason, their shoes were ripped from their hind paws, leaving their toes bare and wriggling in the open air as a ghostly 'hand' clasped them, wantonly tugging them out and on show.

"Like we were..." The ghost, who was clearly female, hissed, eyes alight in a face that beamed with the joy of having, at least for the moment, some manner of ghostly, vindictive entertainment. "You shall be tortured!"

They screamed and yet it was set to be unlike any other kind of torture that they may or may not have had in mind, both closing their eyes at the same time only to burst into shrieking peals of, entirely out of place, laughter. Blinking furiously as their eyes watered, they twisted and only found themselves instantly pushed back into place as nothing other than a feather was applied to their toes and paws by eager, ghostly hands. Where it had come from was anyone's best guess but, if they'd had a chance to pause and see just what it was, they would have realised that it was from a local bird and that the ghosts had more than enough to keep them writhing in ticklish glee for hours on end without ever growing tired or bored.

"T-t-torture?" Mixy belted out, stuttering through the single word as she wriggled her toes furiously. "W-wh-what..."

But she couldn't get out the words, laughing as hard as she was, flipped over onto her front just so the ghosts could bend her legs back and pin her hind paws together, putting them on clear show and all the more prime for tickling. Strangely so, fingers had just as much effect as a feather (if that had even been what had started it all off) and she squealed like a young child all over again as she tried to twist and writhe, only held down in place by many pairs of ghostly digits as even more layered cruelly wicked attention across her exposed soles and heels.

Relentless, they did not spare Phoenix either, all thoughts of rescuing Mixy flush from her mind as she laughed until her face turned even redder, electricity crackling from her cheeks on the edge of losing control. They pinned her ankles together too (all the better to torture her!) and used the leverage to plaster her soles with feathers, more and more appearing in the ghostly hands, which seemed to take greater form and shape than the rest of their bodies, the most important part of them that they could give shape to at the time when, to them, it mattered the most.

It may have been a strange tactic to employ but that was by the by as the ghosts had their fun with them, turning the young ladies onto the floor and even tangling them by one foot in mid-air as they tickled under their armpits. Scrabbling to keep her T-shirt pinned down over her stomach and chest where it threatened to fall 'up' her body to her neck, Phoenix could not help but shriek and squeal, her armpits helplessly exposed for their ticklish wrath and ecstasy, taking what had been denied to them in life.

Laughter. There was a beauty in it and yet it was a beauty that the college students could not yet acknowledge for themselves, not knowing what was happening, truly, even as tears streamed down their cheeks, wetting fur for the sake of mirth. They laughed and laughed, turned and posed and modelled until Phoenix's natural inclination to take the lead a little bit more (hey, she thought she had to be dreaming or to have hit her head pretty hard by this point!) and demand someone to be ticked by her - crazy! Of course, the ghosts weren't going to allow that, caught up in their own twisted prerogative as they put the two of them back to back and held them upside down, arms outstretched towards the floor as many fingers danced across their perpetually wriggling paws, unwilling to let up to...what end?

There was no end that the ghosts had in sight, after all, but perhaps their energy would run out at some point. Living one ticklish experience to the next, they could do no more than pass on the laughter, grins less ghoulish as they softened in their features, solidifying into cheering smiles that would have relaxed the Pokemorphs in their hold if they'd been there at any other time. It was hard to relax, however, as fingers dug up under their armpits, uncaring for the light musk of sweat they found there, and tickled away, pulling the cloth away from their bodies just so that they could have a better view and a better aim to tickle away to their chilled hearts' content.

On and on... No one was waiting for Phoenix or for Mixy and, so, no one came looking for them either, the world quiet but for their screeches and ripples of laughter, raising the roof of the asylum in a way that it never had been before. Escape was not even in their minds as their worlds narrowed down and down and down, used and abused for ticklish pleasure, fingers and feathers swapped even for a little pinwheel with blunted spines that drew a delightful burst of sensation to their soles in a way that neither of them could have possibly imagined ever before.

The photography project had gone awry and there was little more to be said as they lay, side by side, on the floor, chests heaving for breath that was not theirs to regain, the ghosts encircling them in a grinning, hovering circle. Although pain from laughing radiated sorely through them, their eyes were alight and Mixy squirmed in place, not even trying to get up as a little twisted part of her eagerly anticipated what more was to come, if only she was brave and clever enough to stay right where she was and experience it.

Their time with the tickling ghosts of the asylum was far from over...