This story contains: Machine/F tickling, dub-con tickling, exclusively feet tickling, extreme tickle torture, "bad end"
Author's Note:
The original copy of this story can be found on my DeviantArt, where the formatting is, in my opinion, a bit better.
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Aliza read a magazine in the plain waiting room, one leg over the other, flip-flop idly dangling. She was advised to show up with clothing that would be easy to take off, and she was happy to oblige. Were she permitted to look at her phone, she would've been scrolling through her socials or playing a game to distract herself from the oppressively boring waiting room and its hard, featureless walls. However, the small facility was insistent on not allowing any cell phones to have a connection within its walls, for "privacy reasons".
Regardless of how odd she found the policy, Aliza had completely turned off her phone and stored it away in the pocket of her denim shorts. Just as she turned a page, a woman called her name into the empty room.
"Yes?" Aliza asked, looking up from the magazine. The woman--a name tag on her white coat read "Jennifer"--greeted her with a polite smile in the doorway of the waiting room. "We're ready if you're ready!" Aliza rose and stretched from her mildly uncomfortable seat, brushed some of her short, curly red hair behind her ear, and followed Jennifer down the long, dimly-lit hall behind the door.
The pair entered an off-white, sterile room, only slightly brighter than the hallway outside. On the wall directly opposite the door was what looked like a TV screen, sitting above the faint outline of a large drawer set within the wall--the only features of the medium-sized room. Aside from that, Aliza noted a folded-up table, some comfy-looking chairs and a camera and tripod against the walls.
"So..." Aliza said, sensing the inklings of an awkward silence between herself and her attendant. "This is the room where it happens?" Jennifer nodded curtly. "Yes, it is." She responded, then continued: "Before we begin, please read over this to verify the information on it," she said, handing Aliza a clipboard.
On the clipboard was Aliza's relevant information and a summary of the experiment she had agreed to take part in.
Full name... Yep... Age: 22... Yeah... Birth year... Correct... Height: 5'9... That's right... Foot length: 11 inches
... Aliza skimmed over most of the sheet, knowing it was more-likely-than-not to be correct. Her eyes barely skimmed over the "summary" section, having poured over the paperwork for a straight week. She knew well that she would be spending three days in the facility, and her pay would be...
well
worth it, to say the least.
"Yeah, all good," Aliza said, handing the clipboard back to Jennifer, who took it. "No," she said. "You know the procedure?" She asked, head tilted towards a door on the back wall. Aliza restrained a sigh. "Mhm," She responded, and entered the small, well-lit changing room. It was small and bare, containing a shelf and a bench on the wall. The bench had a small case placed atop it. She placed the few personal items she had brought--her phone, her wallet, and a couple of coins--on the shelf, and stripped down, hanging the t-shirt and shorts she had arrived in on a couple of hooks.
Taking a seat on the bench of the changing room, she opened the plastic case, unfurling a dark, nylon body suit. She had known well that it was to prevent her from overheating within the confines she was to be held in, but she still found it silly as she slipped it on. Once it was on, Aliza took a look in the mirror: she saw that her form was completely hugged by the suit, leaving space only for her head, an embarrassing gap at her crotch, and... her feet.
Aliza stared at her feet for a few seconds, the deep red-black of her nails complementing the nylon suit. She thought back to the pedicure in which she had them painted the color, and how her online fans had adored it so. Indeed, her feet had been making her some decent money for a few months.
And they're about to make me so much more
, Aliza thought, a mix of anxiety and eagerness. She exited the room, greeting Jennifer as she fiddled with the drawer beneath the TV screen, which had two holes that hadn't been present before. "Oh, that was fast!" Jennifer noted. "Yeah," Aliza said, fidgeting her hands before her, feeling more than a little exposed standing before the pretty blonde. "Didn't wear too much, considering..." She trailed off. "Smart," Jennifer finished. "Ok, are you ready?"
Aliza restrained a gulp. "Yeah, let's do this." Jennifer pulled the drawer open, and it made a rolling sound as its contents were revealed. The drawer held a large, faux-leather, dark sack on its cushioned surface of the same material, accompanied by numerous belts that would strap it--and herself--down. Despite having known what she would be getting herself into, Aliza felt a chill run down her spine as she looked upon the empty sack. She graciously accepted Jennifer's help getting into the sack, laying down inside it. She felt that it was softly cushioned; a thin layer of velvet protecting Aliza's nylon-clad form from the smooth texture of the faux-leather that made up the bag.
A device was placed on her right pointer finger; a vital-monitoring device, Jennifer explained.
Slowly, Jennifer tightened the bag around Aliza's form, starting at her ankles and moving up, ensuring each belt was snug. Aliza couldn't stop herself from blushing as Jennifer's hands graced her thighs and upper body to ensure she was comfortable. Finally, after what felt like several minutes, Aliza was secured in the bag, leaving only her head, crotch, and feet exposed to the open air. In addition to being secured by the sack, her ankles had been placed in the holes of the drawer's face, separated by a thin cushion between her ankles and secured with some kind of foam that kept them from moving side-to-side. Jennifer proceeded to strap Aliza's bound form to the table with several straps, including her forehead. It was then that Aliza found herself near-immobile, only able to effectively move her toes.
That freedom would promptly be taken as Jennifer went back down to the foot of the drawer-table, and one by one secured Aliza's slender toes. Aliza giggled and chuckled as Jennifer tenderly placed a firm, cushioned bracket at the very top of each toe, cementing it in place and making the face forward. Jennifer, obviously, wasn't trying to tickle Aliza, evident by the occasional soft "sorry" or "my bad".
"You alright?" Jennifer asked, face above Aliza's. The redhead felt herself blush again. "Y-Yeah, I'm fine." Jennifer nodded. "Good. The other researchers will be here shortly, and the experiment will begin," Jennifer said, curtly. Gently, she pushed the drawer closed, entombing Aliza in a shallow, well-lit chamber.
The chamber was small, just fitting Aliza's bound form: there was about six inches from her face to the roof of the chamber. It was decently lit up, from what Aliza's limited view could tell, and the air within was comfortably chill. Directly above Aliza's face was the lens of a camera. Aliza thought back to the TV screen, which her feet then rested beneath., and how her reactions would be projected for the researchers to see.
And then, she waited, anxiously in anticipation for what would come.
Researchers Notes, 9:06 AM, Day 1
Experiment has not yet started. Subject appears anxious, but not deeply scared. Experiment will begin at 9:15 AM. According to the subject's own testimony, her feet are quite sensitive. Their sensitivity (and their size) are exactly why we selected her for this experiment, and I hope she will prove to be a wise choice.
Recording - Phase 1 - 9:10 AM