A Tickle in Time - Chapter 1 (mostly m>f)
Agent 498
Subj: A Tickle in Time, Chapter I (mostly m>f)
From: cs...@panix.com
A TICKLE IN TIME, Chapter I
THIS STORY CONTAINS SCENES INAPPROPRIATE FOR YOUNG'UNS. IF YOU'RE UNDER
18,
SIMON SAYS STAY AWAY. IF YOU'RE OVER 18, I HOPE YOU'RE REGISTERED TO VOTE
AND INTEND TO PARTICIPATE IN THIS YEAR'S ELECTION.
USE IT OR LOSE IT.
Waves of significance washed through Jessica as her mind slid backward
through the megaflow of time. A twisting, a shimmer -- and she was pulled
out of the flow, into a body --
She was walking down the middle of a hard earthen street. Crowds
lined
either side of the roadway, dressed in bright clothes. The people were
small, with straight black hair, prominent noses, and coppery-brown skin.
Glancing down at herself, Jessica saw that her body was of the same type,
dressed only in a simple white cotton shift and sandals. She was one of a
row of six young women, all similarly dressed; a row of six young men in
short white cotton skirts and sandals walked beside them. At the head of
the parade was a tall man in a cloak of bright green feathers, while
behind
them marched a small band of flute players and drummers. It seemed to be
just after sunrise.
The crowd waved their hands and cheered loudly as the little parade
passed. Jess wondered who she was. A prisoner of war? A noblewoman of some
sort? A religious leader? It could be anything. Then the parade turned a
corner, and Jess saw the huge step pyramid rising above the low buildings.
Words appeared in her vision, superimposed over the pyramid, as the CPS
finally kicked in:
TENOCHTITLAN, 19 N, 98 W, 1376 AD
An Aztec sacrifice. If this wasn't the worst situation possible to get
dumped into at the start of a mission, it was close. But Central wouldn't
have routed her into this role if there hadn't been something she could
find out here. Gritting her mind, Jess resolved to see it through. Being
killed in this body wouldn't harm her, only drop her back into the
megaflow
-- it would still hurt, but she was a trained Time Agent and could deal
with little inconveniences like that.
Looking at the happy, festive crowds that lined the route, Jess could
hardly believe that they had turned out to cheer the deaths of twelve
young
people. And the priest at the head of the column -- what sort of inhuman
monster must he be? But then she shoved away those unprofessional
thoughts
and focused on looking for signs of interference as the parade marched
closer to the pyramid. But nothing seemed out of place. No anachronistic
technology, no bizarre customs -- at least, not by this culture's
standards
-- no sign of any out-of-timers. By the time the parade had reached the
pyramid and was mounting the steep steps up its side, Jess was convinced
that Central had screwed up, and she'd have to go get killed for no reason
at all.
Jess's calves were aching at the end of the steep climb, as she and
the other eleven sacrifices followed the priest into the small temple at
the top. The temple was roofless, the sun just peeking above the top of
one wall. Twelve stone couches were laid out in the center of the room
like
the hands of a clock, and a feather-cloaked priest or priestess stood by
each. Jess's brow furrowed as a priest took her hands and led her to a
slab. This didn't seem right -- the Aztecs were supposed to do their
sacrifices one at a time, weren't they? Was this what Central wanted her
to
see?
The priest made her lie on the cold stone, then removed her sandals
almost ceremoniously and tied her big toes together with a length of tough
dead grass -- another odd touch. Then he produced two lengths of vine and
lashed her wrists together, tying the end of the vine to a stone ring in
the head of the couch; her ankles were similarly tied and fastened to a
ring at the foot. Glancing from side to side, Jess could see that there
was
a young man on either of the couches next to her, and both of them had
been
tied similarly. This was definitely wrong, but how did it tie into the
matter of the time storm?
The high priest strode into the center of the ring of couches -- Jess
could just see him by tipping her head back -- and raised his hands and
face to the rising sun. "Mighty Huitzilopochtli, we are grateful that you
bless us with your light and warmth. In thanks and in the hope that you
will continue your generosity, we offer you this: for the duration of
your
journey across the sky today, we will entertain you with the laughter of
our most handsome youths and beautiful maidens."
Wha -- ?! The thought was barely formed in Jess's head when "her"
priest bent over and began lightly tickling her exposed armpits. All
around
her, the other sacrifices broke into laughter as the priests began to work
on them. Jess was too stunned to react at first. In her own body, she'd
never been all that ticklish (except for a certain spot just under her
ribs) and had never been tickled much (except for a certain playful
boyfriend in college, who she dumped when he wouldn't leave that spot
alone
like she told him to.)
But _this_ body was incredibly -- almost insanely -- sensitive. Jess
nearly flew off the couch at the first touch on her underarms, was brought
up short by the vines. The sensation was astonishing. Impossible. How
could anything feel so intense?
"Why do you not laugh?" asked the high priest, looming over her. "Do
you wish to displease the god?" He reached out and dug all ten fingers
into
her ribcage (by strange coincidence, very near her own body's magic spot),
fingers wriggling through the thin fabric of the shift, while the other
priest continued to trace circles around the hollows of her underarms.
Devastated by the double attack, Jess finally found her voice, letting out
a howl of laughter that almost drowned out the noise of the other eleven
sacrifices. "Wha -- ha ha ha ha ha! Oh, my God!"
"Yes! Much better!" exclaimed the high priest, tickling her ribs
relentlessly. It seemed an eternity before he moved on to another
sacrifice, while the first priest slid his hands up under the shift to get
at her ribs and belly directly.
"Hee hee hee -- will you -- ohhh -- hee hee!" Jessica giggled
dementedly, squirming on the hard slab with such force it seemed that the
back of the shift was going to shred. The other sacrifices were even
louder, the deeper laughter of the men and the higher-pitched squeals of
the women forming some sort of weird melody. Tossing her head from side to
side, Jess caught the eye of the man on her left, and they shared a
single
glance of mutual suffering. Then his priestess began to rake her nails
along the underside of his toes, and his whole body jerked away, breaking
the contact.
The priests began to ceremoniously circle the room clockwise, pausing
by each slab to inflict further tickling on the sacrifices. Each of them
had a different touch, a different approach: one would trace a single nail
in a slow, delicate zigzag down each of Jess's soles, while the next would
seize her ribcage in an almost painful grip and squeeze away, harder and
harder. But no matter what it was subjected to, Jess reacted in the same
way, the laughter bursting out of her while her already sweat-soaked body
thrashed back and forth on the slab. Was there anyplace this cursed
carcass
_wasn't_ ticklish? But of course, Jess realized in a moment of clarity
between priests, the Aztecs would have chosen only the most susceptible
youths for this rite. Just her luck.
Then the next priest had the fingers of one hand kneading the soft
flesh around her navel while his other shuttled back and forth over her
ribs, and it was all Jess could do to stay sane, let alone reason. She was
still laughing helplessly when that priest left her, but her eyes came to
rest on the solar orb, which still hadn't risen all the way above the
temple walls. Were they actually planning to continue this until _sunset_?
Had Central actually sent her here to endure ten hours of nonstop
tickling?
Hell, she'd rather have her heart cut out with an obsidian knife. At least
that was over quickly.
Next came a priestess, a small plump woman who took firm hold of one
foot and began lightly and quickly stroking the balls of the toes and
feet. Somehow, Jess's body produced another eruption of screaming mirth:
"Aaaaaa ha ha ha -- please -- hee hee -- no more -- stop!"
The priestess shook her head disapprovingly at Jess's incoherent
pleas
and pointed to the sun. "Think of the good of the city," she instructed,
caressing the arch of the foot she held for emphasis. "Do your sacred duty
without complaint, and you will be honored."
"I'm not gonna be alive to -- " Jess convulsed as the high priest and
another converged on her, forcefully tickling her ribs, tummy, and waist
while the priestess continued to play with her feet. Jess's shrieks
quickly
spiraled up into inaudibility. Her head was thrown back, her mouth wide
open, her body bouncing up and down like an epilepsy patient's as the
ferocious sensation drove all blasphemous thoughts -- all thoughts of any
kind, in fact -- straight out of her head. The six-handed tickling might
have gone on for ten hours, or thirty years, for all she knew; for Jess,
time and space had been compressed into one eternal tickle with neither
end
nor beginning.
When they finally stopped, Jess could do nothing but gasp and giggle
weakly, hearing all around her the echoing mirth of the other sacrifices.
Even then, she was denied rest. The other two left her alone with the high
priest, who amused himself by running his fingers around her knees and up
her thighs -- all of which proved just as damnably ticklish as the rest of
Jess's quivering form. And it only got worse: as Jess was finally coming
down from her "tickle high," she couldn't help but notice the feel of the
shift rubbing over her stiffened nipples and the familiar tingle between
her legs. Not only was this body ridiculously hypersensitive, it was
actually getting aroused by the tickling! Jess's hips twitched
involuntarily as the high priest's strong, cool fingers dug in high up on
her inner thighs, and the thin smile that crossed the man's face told her
that he knew exactly what she was feeling.
"A little intense for you, isn't it, honey?" he asked.
Jess, half-crazy with tickling and lust, barely registered at first
that he'd spoken to her in English. Then her eyes went wide, and she sat
up
on the couch -- or rather, tried to, for the vine on her wrists held her
back.
"Ah-ah," the high priest continued in the same tone, passing his hands
down the length of her legs to her feet, scraping his thumbnails down the
arches in a way that made her legs jerk. "Lie back like a good sacrifice
and give your all for the god. We've got plenty of daylight to go yet."
Carefully, he picked a small green feather from the hem of his cloak and
began using it to probe between her toes with all the precision of an
artist painting a masterpiece. Jess writhed in pure agony -- but he had
her
foot in an iron grip, holding it immobile. All she could do was laugh like
a crazed hyena and try to ignore the body's rapidly growing desire.
No -- that wasn't good enough! She was a trained bodyjumper, she
should be able to overcome any sensation, no matter how unfamiliar and
overwhelming. Through sheer will, Jess raised her head and looked straight
at the high priest. She could see a faint sparkle in the air around him,
something she should have noticed before. "Y --
you're -- " she gasped out. The high priest seized her other foot and
applied the feather to its toes, and Jess flopped down again, howling. "NO
MORE! HAHAHAHAHAHA -- PLEASE!"
"I am what I am," the high priest said. "And I know what you are,
too. I hope this little demonstration is enough to convince you not to
meddle in my business. I have a lot to do, and I don't need you
interfering."
From somewhere deep within herself, Jess managed to find the
strength to grit out, "Go to hell."
"After you, my dear." The high priest raised his voice, addressing
the others. "Huitzilopochtli rises higher above us. We must make sure that
the laughter is loud enough to reach his ears. Perhaps if all of us were
to
encourage this so-delicate maiden at once, she would provide the needed
sound ... "
Horror washed through Jess as she heard the tread of the other
priests, coming closer to her slab. Priests and priestesses closed in on
her, grinning gleefully, and hands reached out toward her shuddering skin
...
A flash, a tearing, and the Aztec temple was gone, replaced by the
brilliant colors of the megaflow. Jess, bodiless once more, was swept
along. Though free of the tormented flesh, her thoughts were still
confused and shaky. That high priest -- he had been a 'jumper too! That
explained how he passed through time so easily -- but how was it possible
for him to do it without Central's assistance? And, if he (or she?) was
behind this, how could she capture a bodyjumper?
And what to make of what she had seen -- and felt? She couldn't
form any theories without seeing the results of the time storm further.
On
the face of it, such a silly change to the Aztec religion seemed unlikely
to disrupt all recorded history ... but there was no way to tell what the
strange bodyjumper might have done farther up or down the course of the
megaflow.
"Central," she thought, "show me how the twentieth century has
been
affected." Phantom currents took hold of her and bore her along the flow,
heading for the next critical point ...
NEXT: Lights, Camera, Kitchy-Coo!, or The Red Menace.
Allycat
These are absolutely /delicious/: Great storyline, heavenly tickle
torture. You've got talent! ;)=