A Ticklish Experiment


It has been said that education and research can be used as an
excuse for a person to pursue just about any line of interest
under the auspices of building knowledge. Students have turned
hours of video game play into Masters' theses and illicit drug
use into Doctoral dissertations. Drawing from this strategy,
Anthony had decided to integrate his love for tickling girls
into his Ph.D. research project. The hypothesis was that the
more controlling a girl's parents were, the more ticklish she
was later in life. The variables that he measured were
personal background details from each girl, compared with how
long each one could be kept laughing simply by being tickled
(the fun part). He had the idea approved by the ethics board
(amazing!) and had even obtained a permit to administer
nitrous oxide (no2, more commonly known as laughing gas) to
his participants.

Wasting no time getting started J, he quickly began to recruit
subjects and a trend emerged in favor of his hypothesis almost
immediately. Some girls barely giggled at all. Others only
laughed for a few seconds or a minute or two. But his favorite
group was comprised of the girls who, through some course of
nature, were extremely ticklish and found it almost impossible
not to laugh when submitted to the tickle treatment he had
designed. This is the story of his encounter with one of the
girls, in particular, from this last group.

Her name was Lindsay. She had only 21 years, stood about five
and a half feet tall, and was thin, but healthy looking. What
had attracted Anthony's attention to her initially was that
she was a true redhead, something that he loved. She was the
real deal, with long fiery red hair and the fairest complexion
he had ever seen. She did have a few appealing freckles here
and there and her breasts were on the smaller side, but she
had a really cute face and an interesting personality. She
communicated an air of nonconformity, which he had found to be
a good indicator for a girl who was likely to participate.

The first time he met her was in a local coffee shop. She had
her red hair in one long braid; she wore a tight fitting
“Invader Zim” tee shirt, a short pair of black shorts, and
white knee-high socks that showed off her thin fair thighs.
Anthony started a conversation with her while waiting in line
for his caramel cappuccino and, being a pretty interesting and
attractive guy himself, managed to get her phone number so
that they could meet for a date.

It wasn't but a few days later that he and Lindsay met at a
bar to hear some live music and get to know each other. That
night, she had dressed in a loose fitting purple blouse with
elbow length sleeves that had ruffled cuffs. Bellow her waist,
she wore a matching plaid mini-skirt with no stockings. Her
snow-white feet were barely covered by a pair of extremely
high-heeled sandals with just one strap over her feminine
toes. Her fingernails and toenails, she had highlighted with a
striking purple nail polish and she let her beautiful red hair
fall about her shoulders.

When their discussion turned to what he was studying in school
as they sat at a table sipping drinks, Anthony knew it was
time to make his first move.

“I'm tracing the effects that certain parenting styles have on
a person later in life” he told her. “For instance, I can make
a prediction about you simply from the conversation that we've
had tonight about your parents.” He had preliminarily placed
her into the “rigidly controlling parents” category already.

“Oh, really?” she said with a challenging tone in her voice
that told of her interest.

“Yep. Here, I'll write my prediction on this piece of
paper…fold it up…and then we can test it,” he said.

“OK, how do we test it, then?” Lindsay asked him.

“Well, let's see,” he pondered aloud. “Why don't you put your
foot in my lap?”


“I'm serious,” he said. “It's an honest to god empirical

She looked skeptical, but she swung her shapely white leg over
anyway so that her sandal-clad foot was resting on his right
knee under the table. It is worth mentioning here that
Lindsay's feet were somewhat long in proportion to her body.
Not so much that they were freakish or anything, but they
weren't petite by any stretch of the imagination. The arches
of her snowy feet were subtle, but long and distinct. The
light rosy-pink color that marked the balls of her feet and
her heels was divided by a generous flat smooth expanse that
was amazingly white. Anthony also soon discovered that it was
remarkably soft and sensitive as, in one quick motion, he
grasped her thin ankle in one hand and inserted his index
finger between her sandal and foot to tickle her beautiful
arch with his other.

His grasp was firm and he swirled his fingertip all around the
bottom of her luscious almost bare foot in such a ticklish
manner, that the poor young girl was quickly devastated.

“…*SNORT*…HEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE…” she flinched so hard when she
couldn't yank her foot out of his lap right away that she
knocked her drink over as she broke down into fit of giggles.

Not wanting to cause a scene, Anthony released her ankle and
she instantly pulled her foot away.

“What are you doing!?!” she asked, still giggling a little.
She removed the foot he had tickled from her sandal and
started rubbing the bottom of it over the top of her other
sandal to relieve the tickly sensation that still lingered.

“Read the paper,” he said coolly.

She unfolded the slip he had written on and read it out loud,
“You are VERY ticklish.”

“Oh, that's genius,” she remarked sarcastically.

“No, no, it's really a legitimate study,” he defended, smiling
broadly and he went on to explain his theory and how the study
had been approved by his committee. He could tell that she was
actually impressed by his level of education despite the
questionable nature of his project.

“You tie them up and tickle them!?!” she asked in amazement.

“Yep, while they're completely naked.”

“Uh-huh,” she said slyly, thinking that this was too much,
“and why do they have to be naked?”

“It's very important that they be completely vulnerable.
That's what it's all about, seeing how they cope with having
their vulnerabilities exploited by the ticklers.”

“Holly shit, you have more than one person tickle them like
that?” she asked in astonishment. She was visibly
uncomfortable visualizing it as she shifted in her seat and
crossed her smooth white legs.

“We also have them breath laughing gas during the experiment,”
he added.

“Laughing gas!?! You're kidding?” she said with a laugh.

“No, really, Nitrous Oxide. It's the same stuff they use at
the dentist's office. It helps them to relax and almost
entirely counteracts any nervousness from the situation that
would inhibit their reactions. Kind of like starting from a
clean slate.”

“Oh my God, how do you get these people to do it?” she asked
with wide eyes.

“They're all volunteers,” he said matter-of-factly and then
added, “It's all very scientific. You know, you'd be perfect,

She laughed out loud.

He went on, “Seriously, I think you'd fall on the high end of
the scale and could really help to prove my case. My school
also provides us with a research stipend and, since I only
need a small number of subjects for my study, I can pay each
one at least a hundred dollars for participating.”

“There's no way I could take it,” she said shaking her head
and giggling a little again.

“But, for the sake of science?” he asked, almost

Lindsay actually started to contemplate the idea. She didn't
know what she was thinking. Part of her wanted to go a long
with his crazy proposal because she liked Anthony and wanted
to “be a part of his study”, but the rest of her entire being
shrunk away in mortal fear from the whole idea. Controlling
parents or not, she knew she was hopelessly ticklish and had
been for as long as she could remember. Her slender white body
was tickle touch sensitive from head to toe and the thought of
being restrained while people tickled her on purpose was
intensely disturbing.

“I don't think so,” she said, “but I'll think about it.”

The very next evening, Lindsay found herself at Anthony's
apartment. She hadn't agreed to participate yet, but had
called him up and he had invited her over. The more she
thought about him the more her resolve broke. “Why did it have
to be tickling?” she asked herself again and again. “Anything
but tickling!”
When she entered the apartment there were two other girls and
another guy there, too. They were all sitting around watching
TV, but each greeted her kindly and she sat down in a sofa

Lindsay was wearing another short sleeve tee shirt (this time
with just a picture of a single daisy on it), a long flowery
skirt, white stockings, and black slip-on shoes. Her striking
red hair was loose and fell down over her ears, contrasting
the fair skin of her face. She talked back and forth with the
others, getting to know them a little, and eventually Anthony
brought the subject up again.

“So did you think anymore about being in my study?” he asked

She blushed a little before responding. “I would do it,” she
said with an exaggerated tone of confidence, “except I
wouldn't be comfortable getting naked in front of people I
don't know.”

“Well, you do have the choice of having the ticklers being
naked, too, if that would make you more comfortable. You
wouldn't be the first to exercise that option.”

Lindsay laughed at the thought. “Just how many people have
volunteered, so far?” she asked.

“You'd be number nine. Stacy and Laura have both done it,” he
said gesturing to the two girls on the couch.

Lindsay's heart was skipping. “I don't know…” she started.

“It was kind of fun,” Laura told her.

Stacy giggled, “Yeah…it was!”

She sat for a long while after that in silence, as she weighed
it back and forth. She felt like she was about to jump off a
high dive for the first time. She knew that she wouldn't be
hurt and that she'd walk away fine. Nevertheless, she was
still overwhelmed with an almost crippling fear that was
preventing her from just saying yes. Now, with these two girls
in front of her that had already gone through the ordeal, she
was worried about looking like a chicken or a prude if she
didn't do it.

As if the words were coming from someone else's mouth, she
suddenly heard herself speaking, “I can't believe I'm saying
this, but I guess I'll do it.”

“Great!” Anthony exclaimed.

“You all have to be naked too, though!” she said assertively.

“OK, that's fine,” he responded. “Thanks a lot, Lindsay!”

The five of them ventured into an adjoining room where all the
equipment was kept and proceeded to undress. Lindsay first
stepped out of her slip-on shoes, then hiked up her skirt and
started to roll down her knee-high stockings. First, one long
white foot was bared and then the other, revealing that she
was wearing a single toe ring on each of her second toes. As
the others followed suit, she dropped both her skirt and
panties at the same time, exposing her completely smooth
shaven vagina. They all immediately noticed that Lindsay's
pink vulva were pretty large and dangled farther down than
they do on most girls. The low-hanging hood they formed at the
top left them all wondering if her clitoris underneath was of
an equivalent size. She finally removed her tee and then her
small bra. She had the tiniest nipples on her pert little
breasts and her left one was pierced with a round silver ring.

Then, there they all stood, completely naked. Lindsay's fair
white skin stood out in comparison to the other's who were all
much tanner. Her nipples hardened in the air and stood out
straight as she looked around at the others.

“Stand over here, please,” Anthony directed her. He bound her
wrists with a pair of padded leather cuffs and had her raise
them high above her head. A rope hung down from a hook in the
ceiling and was tied to the cuffs, so that her hands were held
in place. He pulled it so tight, in fact, that Lindsay was not
quite hanging, but was only standing on the tips of her long
white toes. A few giggles escaped her as she was hoisted up.
Another rope was produced and they lifted her right foot
behind her and held it there, so that the smooth white skin on
the long bottom of her foot was facing upward. The rope was
then used to bind her ankle up to her upper thigh, so that her
foot was stuck in that position. The young redhead was left
standing only on the toes of her left foot.

She looked up to see that a clear tube hung down from the
ceiling next to the rope and was attached to a clear facemask.
This was strapped around her head so that it covered both her
mouth and nose. She saw that the other end of the tube ran
down the wall and was connected to a small tank with a valve.
It was everything she could do not to call the whole thing off
right then, but she couldn't find it in her to back out now.

“Alright,” Anthony said. “Shall we get started?”

A muffled “I guess so” came from behind the gas mask. They
could all hear the uncertainty in her voice.

He turned the valve on the tank and Lindsay felt the air she
was breathing become a little cooler. Allowing her to breathe
in the no2, so that it could begin to take effect, the other
four busied themselves gathering together the items they would
need to tickle this fair, thin, white, red hared beauty that
dangled before them.

Someone grabbed a digital stopwatch that was going to be used
to time the duration of her laughter and a thought suddenly
crossed her mind, as she tested the strength of the binding
around her foot and thigh. If she could just control her
laughter, she'd be able to keep this thing relatively short.
Unfortunately however, as she watched the naked people in
front of her assembling a collection of instruments on a table
in the room, the laughing gas began to take its effect.
Suddenly, the purposes for the large array of feathers, the
box of Q-tips, the big bottle of baby oil, and the electric
toothbrush all became painfully clear.

The realization that they intended to use all that stuff for
the sole purpose of…tickling her…shot through her brain like
lightening and the strangest feeling overcame her. It was like
she was reliving every moment she had ever been tickled or
when someone had threatened to tickle her all in that second.
In an instant, she felt the vulnerability of her worst tickle
spots deep down to her soul as all those ticklish memories
flashed before her eyes. They had access to her bare
underarms, her ribs, her thighs, and her feet…everything.

It all hit her hard as they each fussed around in front of her
with the tickle tools, trying to decide which to start with,
and her predicament suddenly came into sharp focus for her
with a crystalline clarity that was quickly unbearable. Out of
nowhere, Lindsay started snorting and giggling as if she were
already being tickled.

eeheeheeheehee…” Her red pigtails swung back and forth next to
her cheeks as she tittered and really started to test her
range of movement in this position. It was negligible and she
swayed back and forth, inhaling the gas as she giggled.

“Whoa!” Stacy exclaimed. “We haven't even started yet, girl!”

“You must REALLY be ticklish,” Laura observed. “We're not even
standing next to you!”

As she breathed in the funny gas through the mask, these
statements had the effect of making her self-conscious that
she was laughing so hard already and, unfortunately, thinking
about it only made her laugh even more. She had a high pitch
giggle that sounded a little desperate and was not at all
unpleasant to hear.

Anthony hung the stopwatch around his neck. “We can't actually
start the clock until we start tickling you,” he told her,
enjoying her ticklish distress that came from anticipating
what they were going to do to her.


“We've got a real snorter here,” the other guy said whose name
was Ryan. It was something that had been the source of much
teasing in the petite redhead's life, but still remained
outside of her control, especially when she was being tickled.

Stacy, Laura, and Anthony each selected a long stiff feather
from the pile. Ryan deviously chose a Q-tip and the bottle of
baby oil. The four of them finally approached the bound
giggling Lindsay and stood right next to her slender white
body. Their close proximity to her extremely vulnerable tickle
spots drove her high pitched giggling into a frenzy. Her eyes
begged for mercy from each of them over the gas mask, but she
only giggled…more and more out of control as she watched them.

Then she heard the word from Anthony, “Go!” and it began.

The two girls both brought the tips of their feathers to bear
directly in the centers of both of her up-stretched underarms
and began to tickle her there lightly. They were tickles that,
under any normal circumstances, would have driven her crazy.
But, under the influence of the laughing gas, the sensation of
having her unprotected underarms feathered so blatantly as she
hung there was like her worst nightmare come to life. Her
incessant giggling turned right into belly laughs (the kind
she normally got whenever she was surprised by something
funny) and she started trying to twist her body away, as if
her own mortality were at stake if she didn't keep her armpits
from being tickled.

But, Anthony was behind her and was holding onto her raised
right ankle, so that she couldn't turn herself at all. The
ticklish little redhead started hopping up and down as best
she could as she watched Ryan dip one end of a Q-tip into the
baby oil and then direct it towards her fair belly button. She
resorted to some pretty desperate sounding giggling as he
neared her sensitive little hole and then began to squeal and
laugh out loud again when he made contact and started to
explore first the perimeter, and then every tiny little bump
and crevice inside her ticklish naval. This, combined with the
cruel feathering of her naked underarms, left the
small-breasted girl laughing quite hard, with no signs of

Anthony took a moment to admire his unobstructed view of and
access to the bottom of Lindsay's long narrow foot. Her only
slightly raised arch was mesmerizingly long and the flat
smooth skin along that part of her foot was even fairer than
the rest of her sparsely freckled body. Her skin looked so
soft and sensitive there, as if the bottoms of her feet had
never touched the ground, or even seen the light of day, for
that matter. Anthony just had to start there. He turned his
feather and, with the rounded tip of the quill, he gently
pressed it into the sensitive skin on the bottom of her
up-turned foot and started tracing a slow deliberate line
right down the center of her long arch.

It definitely sent a shock through the young girl's system.
She did have really ticklish feet. She had actually cursed the
fact many times before. If anyone ever wanted to make her
completely freak out, all they ever had to do was to trap one
of her big feet and start tickling. It always drove her nuts
and now, restrained as she was and constantly breathing the
nitrous, it seemed even more unbearable than ever as he looped
his quill around a few times directly in the center of her
long sensitive arch.


The way he was tickling the bottom of her foot had caused her
to start snorting again as she started to laugh even harder.
She also started a kind of bucking motion, thrusting her body
forward and then backwards very quickly, which, in the end,
afforded her absolutely no relief. When she came to rest,
laughing mindlessly all the while through her gas mask, she
was forced to just hang there and endure the simultaneous
tickling of her barefoot, underarms, and belly button. They
didn't just tickle her in these spots for a little bit and
then move on to other targets, either. They didn't have to.
Lindsay found the constant tickling of these four places on
her lithe white body intolerable and it was enough to cause
her to just laugh and laugh and laugh.

The feathers swooped back and forth, up and down, and all
around the poor pigtailed girl's tightly stretched underarms.
Oh, what she would have given to be able to pull a hand free,
just one hand, so that she could defend her ticklish armpits.
Laura and Stacy sensed it and starting teasing her childishly
as they grazed the hypersensitive flesh in the hollows under
her arms with the tips of their feathers.

“Awwwe…does this tickle?” Stacy asked the hard laughing red
hared girl rhetorically. “How about this?” and she turned her
feather around, touching one of her smooth white underarms
with its rounded tip.

“Tickle, tickle,” Laura quietly chanted in her ear.

Lindsay just laughed even more out of control, barely able to
really struggle at all because it tickled so much and she was
laughing so hard. But Anthony could still feel the strength in
her one bound leg as she instinctively flexed it and strained
against hope to pull her long unprotected foot (which he was
tickling horribly) from the binding that held it up behind her
leg. It really wanted to be back down on the floor.


She looked down over the gas mask and realized that Ryan had
stop tickling her belly button. She continued to laugh
mindlessly from the maddening tickle strokes she was receiving
across her bare underarms and foot, but suddenly, the closing
of a small refrigerator door caught her attention and she saw
Ryan returning to the group, holding something new. When he
was close enough, she could tell (much to her horror) that it
was a pair of tongs in his hand…with a large ice cube held
firmly in its grip. The ticklish red head started absolutely
screaming through the nitrous mask as he closed in on her thin
naked figure. However, between her loud shrieking screams, her
laughter could still distinctly be heard.

She tried desperately to hop backwards, retreating away from
Ryan as he advanced on her with the ice cube. But, with her
wrists bound the way they were, it only caused her upper body
to lean forward…closer to the ice. As the girls cruelly
continued to tickle her under her up-stretched arms and
Anthony scratched on inside her upward-facing arch (causing
her long thin toes to clench and splay intermittently), Ryan
went to touch one of her small white breasts with the cold
cube. Poor Lindsay was a hopeless mess. She started to
occasionally gasp for her breath, she was laughing so hard,
but every time she did, even more of the intoxicating laughing
gas filled the incredibly ticklish redhead's lungs. The fumes
made it even harder for her to cope as Ryan slowly dragged the
freezing cold ice across her sensitive breasts, deliberately
keeping it in constant contact with her skin throughout her
desperate struggling.


“She's going for the record,” Anthony teased, as he ticklishly
invaded the sensitive spaces between Lindsay's long slender
white toes with his fingers.

Laura snickered a little herself and picked up the bottle of
baby oil. “Let's see what she's made of,” she said, as she
poured a generous amount into the palm of her hand. Her words
were barely audible over the fair ticklee's loud wails and
screeching laughter as Ryan ran the cold ice up to where Laura
had been feathering her…under her bare arm. Laura proceeded to
spread the oil over both her hands and then she reached for
Lindsay's narrow rib cage. She dug her slippery fingers into
the poor girl's sides without mercy and started tickle
massaging her there to beat the band.

Lindsay's chin just dropped to her chest and she started
shaking hard from the most intense fit of silent laughter any
of them had ever seen, broken only by the occasional loud
snorting sound when she had to come up for air. They were
pulling out the big guns now. Anthony poured an outrageous
amount of oil all over the bottom of her long white sole and
started spreading it around with the electric toothbrush.

The red pigtailed girl had an ice cube under one arm, a
feather quill under the other, was getting the rib tickling of
her life, and something horrible was happening to the bottom
of her bare foot. All she could do was hang there and take it,
shaking with the deep silent laughter that had consumed her.
Her tears streamed and ran down the sides of her laughing gas
mask. When she could muster the strength, she would burst out
into an almost violent fit of twisting, bucking, and thrashing
until she felt defeated again and resign herself to the

As Anthony was brushing her now oil-slick sole, he started to
lift the bent knee of her restrained leg, so that her legs
were spread apart. They could all see that the extra long lips
on her punany were glistening from arousal. Stacy took the
opportunity to pick up a second feather, which she wiggled
back and forth, tickling Lindsay's large vulva as they hung
down lewdly.

“…………………………..*SSSSNNNNOOOOORRRRTTT*……………………HAHAHA…………..” She
laughed deep down in her small belly, but barely made a sound
at all except for her thrashing around and an occasional laugh
or snort that would escape.

But, as her protruding lips were feathered again and again, an
intense sexual arousal mounted beneath her tickled frenzy,
almost completely outside of her awareness. As Lindsay endured
having her pits, foot, and sides simultaneously tickled, Stacy
dragged the feather up the length of her womanly hole tickling
the massive hood that hid her clitoris. The teasing tickles on
the protective skin around her clit caused it to swell with
desire until it's little peak could be seen poking out from
beneath her massive flaps of sensitive flesh. Her feminine
honey was quite thick now within the folds of her vagina. Then
someone pulled the slippery flaps up and fully revealed the
thin young red haired girl's enormous clitoris. While they all
admired it and continued tickling the poor girl, Stacy began
to swirl her soft feather around Lindsay's entirely exposed
nubbin. Every swoop around it sent shivers through her small
white body, driving her closer and closer to the breaking
point…until she finally just stop laughing and came, almost
soaking Stacy's feather in the process.

“Wow, that'll spread out the distribution,” Anthony remarked
when she had calmed down and been untied. “I never expected
you to go that long.”

When she'd recovered from the experience and from her
embarrassment, Lindsay insisted that she be allowed to be a
“tickle-LER” for the next participant. Anthony gladly said