The Tickle Machine Pt. 01

"YeeheheheHAHAHAHA! WHAHAHAHAT THE HEHEAHAHAHA!?" Aliza laughed as the small, round brushes spun away against her heels, not once lifting from her skin. The size and speed of the brushes reminded her of an electric toothbrush, a tool she had seen used all too frequently in her research for the experiment. Even then, in the safety of her home, she had been perturbed by the use of the tool, and now that she was experiencing it--or, at least, something much like an electric toothbrush--she found herself begging for the tickling to stop.

The tickling only worsened, much to her horror, as the spinning brushes began to tickle across the width of heel, and then slowly rose up the length of her long soles. First the brushes spent what felt like minutes exploring her heels, adjusting to tickle along the curvature so they never left her skin. Then, the brushes returned to the center of the heel, and at equally slow pace, rose to meet her arches. All the while, Aliza's laughter grew louder and increasingly desperate, and she begged more and more.

"STOHOHOHOP! PLEHEHEHEASSSSE AAAAHAHAHA!" Aliza screamed, trying to cry out to the researchers. If she hadn't any doubts before about being unable to deal with the tickling before, she certainly had several at that moment. Especially as the rotating brushes went up and down the length of her arches, starting at the inner arches and slowly migrating to her outer arches over several, long, torturous minutes. At some point the brushes had started varying in speed, switching from a slow, soft rotation to moving faster than an electric drill in an instant, with no warning.

Though a small detail in the grand scheme of her torment, Aliza found the speed-switching hellish. If she wasn't consumed by laughter, she would've begged the researchers to turn off the function entirely, if not plead for her release. However, despite being distracted by the slow, deliberate movements of the brushes, Aliza knew she wouldn't be released if she asked. It was yet another clause of the long, long series of contracts and paperwork she had poured over in order to secure the position she laid in, the center of her soles relentlessly buffed by soft bristles.

After some time the brushes migrated from the center of her restrained soles, and--in a motion that made Aliza wail with dreadful realization--they started to move up and towards the balls of her feet. "AAAAANONONOOOOAHAHAHA!" Aliza cried as the brushes finally reached the center of the balls of both feet, just below her third toe, and began their mechanical dance of moving slowly towards the outer part of each ball. Aliza tried--very hard--to not think of where the brushes would go after they had completed their polish, but she knew where they bound for her restrained toes as soon as they were done.

Seconds stretched into long, awful minutes to Aliza as the lone brushes scrubbed the balls of her feet, not once lifting from her soles. The whole time, she begged--earnestly, truly begged--for the tickling to stop. In response, the brushes only spun faster and faster, which tickled Aliza more and more as the speed increased. Eventually, the brushes made their way back to the center of their targets. And, in the succeeding seconds that moved like cold molasses, the brushes moved up to her to each foot's respective big toe, traveling in a lazy curve to their target.

"AAAAHAHAHAHA!" Aliza wailed as the brushes made their slow journey, and she was filled with dread as they moved. "PLEASSSSSAAAAAHAHAHA!" Though she could not see the machine do its awful work, Aliza couldn't stop images of the tickling from filling her mind. She imagined the brushes, perhaps held by mechanical hands or attached to long, spindly arms, moving slowly along her soles, which she pictured to be pinkened by the constant brushing. At long last, the brushes arrived at the center of her big toes, arriving at their destination by going up through her toe stem.

In agonizingly slow motions, each brush started circling around her big toes, leaving no part of her toe pads unscrubbed. "AAAAAAANOHOHOHOOOOO!" Aliza screamed, tears filling her eyes as the brushes danced on her toe pads in slow, identical motions to one another. After her big toes were completely scrubbed, the brushes swooped down and up to each foot's second toe, replicating their movement. The brushes didn't stay nearly as long at the smaller toe pads, being more or less the same size as them. Instead, the machine opted to explore the long-ish stems of the smaller toes, ascending and descending at an awful pace several times over before jumping over to the next toe.

After scrubbing her bubbly littlest toes, there was brief reprieve as the brushes kept contact with Aliza's soles, but had stopped spinning. Aliza gasped and huffed, nearly hyperventilating. "PLEASE!" Aliza yelled, hoping the researchers would listen to her. "I CAN'T- i CAN'T DO- AAAAAHAHHAHAHA?!" Aliza's plea was interrupted by what felt like four more spinning brushes making contact with her soles as the original pair--still stationed at her littlest toes--returned to life, making her erupt into wild mirth.

"STAHAHAHA- STOPSTAHAHA- I QUIHIHI- EEEEEK NONOTHAHAHAHA!" Aliza tried to reason, tried to offer her resignation to the researchers. But even if they heard her, they granted her no mercy. The six brushes tickled everywhere on her feet. At a time, two brushes might dance around the toes of each foot while one tickled each heel, slowly descending and ascending to meet each other at Aliza's creamy arch, and then return to their original positions in an equally slow motion.

And at other times, the spinning brushes would hone in on one spot at a time, and Aliza was forced to contend with three brushes spinning at hellish speeds and varied rotations attacking a single toe or a heel. Whatever torment the machine inflicted upon her, it was rarely the same twice in a row, perpetually keeping Aliza in a state of suspense as to what would be tickled next. To Aliza's tickle-hazy mind, it seemed as if the machine was entirely random in its attacks.

"AAHAHAHAHA! STOHOHOHOOOOP NONONOOOOO!" Aliza screamed as all six spinning brushes suddenly jumped to the toes of her left foot, tickling everything from her stems to the toe pads, some staying in place while others mosied up and down the length of her toes. The brushes stayed at her toes for an awfully long time before resuming to randomly tickle all over her feet.

The machine repeated the focusing of tickling, taking an occasional break from tickling the entirety of Aliza's feet to solely tickle a particular area. Sometimes it was a soft, round heel, sometimes the ball of a foot. The machine seemed to favor her left toes and right arches above all, and more often than not would take several long minutes to tickle in those spots, knowing more than Aliza that they were her utmost ticklish spots.

By the time the six brushes had stopped, Aliza had totally lost track of time. As far she was concerned, she could've been tickled for five hours from how badly the brushes tickled. Tears had fallen down her reddened cheeks, wetting the cushions beneath her. She giggled and sobbed, her nerves abuzz from the tickling that had since stopped.

"PLEASE! PLEASE, I-I CAN'T DO THIS," Aliza yelled once the sobs and giggles mostly ceased. "J-JUST LET ME GO, PLEASE! I-I'VE MADE A MISTAKE!" Despite petitioning her regrets, Aliza was given no response from the researchers. No matter how she cried, or begged, or yelled, or sobbed, she heard no word from them, and doom began to settle into her core.

Researcher's Notes - Day 1, 1:46 PM

The AI continues to impress us, proving to be a better learner than we first appreciated. In a remarkable display of deeper learning, the AI adjusted the speed of the rotor brushes to better stimulate the subject, and to great effect.

The rotor brushes, though a simple variation of the sensitivity scaler, seemed to have the greatest effect on the subject, stimulating her more than both the scaler and the mechanical hands. The subject sincerely desired for the experiment to end during the session, and as I am writing this is petitioning her retirement from the experiment.

While I do somewhat sympathize with our subject's plight, it is necessary that we have someone (especially one as sensitive as her) to remain for the rest of the experiment in order to monitor the AI's capabilities.

In addition, having had our eye on her for quite some time, it would be an egregious waste of our resources to release her so early in the experiment.

Recording - Preparing for Phase 4 - 11:52 AM

Aliza's breath was deep and frantic between sobs and screams, nearly hyperventilating as thoughts of tickling swam in her mind. I made a mistake, I made a mistake, I made a mistake repeated in her mind like a record broken, and so did pleas of "PLEASE, PLEASE LET ME GO!". But not a soul or machine heeded her cries, and she was left in harsh, artificial silence.

But worse than the silence, worse than the apparent indifference from her fellow humans, and even--slightly--worse than the tickling, was the knowledge she would be spending the next two days in the chamber.

Two entire days. Nearly 48 hours. During which she would only know tickling.

Tears of despair which had spawned from mirth poured from her eyes as she sobbed, and Aliza attempted to break free from her faux-leather cocoon. But the sack held firm, and she found herself completely immobile just as the minute she had been secured into it. All she could effectively do was blink and move her mouth. And even that, she thought, she possessed limited control over. Tears she couldn't merely blink away leaked from her chocolate eyes, and once the machine tickled her, she was resigned to laugh, a slave to her own nerves and whatever tool the machine had selected.

Aliza could, realistically, only despair at her situation. And yet, she did not stop her pleading, hoping her tickle-pained cries would pierce the hearts of the researchers on the other side of the camera lens, and she would see the sterile light of the room outside again, and return to a warm bed and comforter, and enjoy a long weekend to herself.

But her hopes were for nought, as Aliza felt something immensely soft, a texture akin to shag carpeting, barely graced her heels. In the next second, midway through a mercy-starved plea, the strange fabric spun against her heels, and Aliza descended into frantic giggles.

"EEEEE aahahahaha!" Aliza squealed as--what she could only assume to be some kind of device similar to a paint roller spanning the width of both of her feet--ascended the height of her heels. The brush tickled nowhere near as bad as the previous tool inflicted upon her soles, but Aliza still felt dread as it crawled up her feet, and rose to a laughter as her arches were tickled. The fibers barely tickled her inner arches, but they met her light-pink outer arches, gracing them as if she was idly swinging her feet above grass. "Nohohoho!" Aliza begged as the brush rose to the balls and toes of her feet.

Within a few slow minutes, the brush had reached the topmost part of her soles, and Aliza's laughter and giggles reached higher pitches. The brush took its sweet time on each area of her foot, and spared no difference to the shapely balls of her feet, nearly spinning in place as it tickled. Still, Aliza begged and pleaded among her giggles and squeals, pleading to the researchers for her release.

Finally, the brush reached the base of her toes. Aliza could feel the soft fibers teasing the stems of her toes before reaching her round, bubbly toe pads, and she laughed during every minute of it. It felt as if the brush was a good distance away from her feet, and some instinct told Aliza that she was merely feeling the very ends of the fibers grace her sensitive soles. Slowly, Aliza felt the brush stop tickling each of her toes as it rose, starting at the smallest little toes and ceasing at the longest--the large toe.

For a minute, the tickling stopped, and Aliza was left relieved and confused. Is... Is this phase over? The young woman pondered. Did the researchers finally show mercy to her, and decided to let her free? The thought, however implausible, elated Aliza, and she smiled not from mirth but from happiness at the notion.

But, unfortunately for her, it was not to be.

In the height of optimism, Aliza once again felt something soft meet her soles--as opposed to before, at the heel of her right foot and the toes of her left foot. She winced as the soft, fuzzy fabric wrapped itself around her round heel and fell between her toes, and she was consumed by fear at the anticipation of what would come next.

Naturally, the brush--or rather, brushes--spun, and Aliza erupted into despaired mirth. "NOHOHHOPLEHEHEHEASE! EEEEAAAHAHAHAHA!" Aliza knew then that her earlier thought, that the brushes had barely been touching her feet, was all too true. The fuzz lapped at her soles as both brushes traveled down and up, approaching the center of her soles at a snail's pace. Aliza wondered if there was any scientific purpose for the speed at which the machine carried its duties, or if it was simply a way to sadistically torture her.

In time the rolling brushes met at the center of her medium-height arches--having tickled every bit of her exposed soles on their journey. For a moment the two brushes were aligned in the center of her feet, tickling the same spot before moving on, up and down the length of her immobile feet. Eventually, each of the brushes reached the bottom of her heel and the tips of toes. For a few precious seconds, the brushes stopped rolling, and Aliza gasped and sobbed.

But before she could vocalize another series of pleas for mercy, the brushes once again started to spin closely against her soles, and Aliza wailed.

The brushes felt much more sporadic to Aliza, their speeds and distance from her soles varying from one second to the next. The brushes swooped at her soles like gulls to a bay, crawling a couple inches up her soles before rising and leaving from her foot. When the brushes spun especially fast, Aliza could feel the air blow against her soles as if there was a slight breeze in the room outside her chamber.

The rolling brushes were limited to merely swooping or ascending descending her soles, but they tormented Aliza relentlessly. Be it swooping or rapidly (or slowly) going up and down her feet, the fuzzy rollers tickled Aliza to no end, and the poor woman had no way to stop it, trapped in her faux-leather cocoon. A cocoon that allowed no movement, with the exception of her mirth-pouring mouth.

Just as Aliza was sure she might faint from the incessant tickling, the brushes stopped. She giggled for a good few minutes before returning to her senses. And when the fog of mirth lifted, Aliza let out an involuntary sob, and despaired tears fell from her eyes and rolled down her reddened cheeks.

Researcher's Notes - Day 1, 3:47 PM

Despite the limited range of the rolling brushes, they proved to be extremely effective in stimulating the patient. In addition to being vastly more stimulating than we thought, the rollers proved to be a vehicle for demonstrating the AI's learning capabilities.

In accordance with the subject's reactions, the AI would adjust the speed, arc, and application of pressure to the subject's feet. Much like the case of the rotary brushes, the AI was not originally programmed with this ability in mind, and has seemingly learned this "technique" on it's own.

I, for one, am quite excited to see how the AI will develop in future phases.

The subject is now quite distressed, and has been petitioning her release for several minutes now. However, due to her qualities as a subject, we are not compelled to release her until the initial trial period is complete. Her reactions, also, are an excellent indicator that the AI is working as intended.

That aside, the experiment is proving to be a complete success. I had high hopes for this technology, and it is with great pleasure to me that it is proving itself.

Recording - Preparing for Phase 5 - 3:52 PM

Aliza had begged. She had screamed. And then, when her pleas went unanswered, she sobbed.

How long had it been since she had been strapped into her humid, sweaty cocoon? An hour? Three?

Time ran together like mirth and tears to Aliza. With no indicators of the very passage of time, how long she had endured in the chamber, her feet tickled without any mercy to be spared, it felt like three days and more. Aliza, meekly sobbing, could only reflect on the actions that had brought her there. Immobile, tearful, and subjected to a machine that did not tire of tickling her.

Aliza thought back to two weeks prior. She thought of browsing the internet for ways to make extra spending money. She thought back to being offered a chance to test a new physical therapy--how she had been approached in a homely bistro by a pretty, smartly-dressed woman. Aliza thought back to the hours she spent reading and signing paper after paper after paper.

Aliza thought back to how she had thousands of opportunities to simply back down, and never look back.

And how, now, she was going to spend thousands of minutes in the chamber. Being tickled.

And it was all her fault.

Aliza didn't hide her despair to whoever may be watching her. She wailed, she cried ugly, ugly tears, she sobbed, and yet she still begged. More out of a natural reflex than hope; she began to accept that there was no way out of her imprisonment.

Something firm and prickly slipping between her toes shot through the miasma of despair, and Aliza started. Several more of the the things slipped into the in-betweens of Aliza's slender toes, until one had been nestled in each of the soft crevices. The things--Aliza hadn't the slightest idea as to what they could've been--felt prickly, like the tip of a toothbrush, but didn't hurt her delicate skin.

W-what? Aliza thought, temporarily forgetting that the new devices would soon be the object of her torments.

Whatever questions stirred in Aliza's mind were answered as the new devices spun to life. At first slowly, for but a few seconds, before rapidly increasing speed.

"AAAAAHAHAHAHA?!" Aliza laughed as the all-too-sensitive in-betweens of her toes were brushed by the stiff fibers of the devices. The brushes, as far Aliza could tell, spun at a rapid speed, never stopping or slowing despite her cries. The brushes did not slow, rapidly spinning clockwise against her sensitive skin. Aliza strained to clamp her toes shut to deter the brushes, an action that was doomed to an impossibility thanks to the brackets that secured her toes.

There wasn't much to the brushes: they spun at a consistent, fast speed, comfortably nestled in-between Aliza's slender toes, never moving up or down. And yet, the simple devices tormented Aliza to an awful degree, and the woman screamed and laughed as the brushes spun. In her confined state, unable to move any part of her body, Aliza was forced to focus on the brushes and the sensations they reaped.

As the tickling went on, Aliza could've sworn that the brushes would fluctuate in speed. When they dipped in speed, Aliza noticed that they tickled significantly less, and when they returned to a faster speed Aliza would be plunged into frantic hysterics once again.

"OH PLEHEHEHEASE!" Aliza yelled, managing to form a sentence despite her sustained mirth. "SLOHOHOHOW DAAAAAHAHAHAHA!" Aliza--maybe--felt the brushes rise again to a speed faster than anything than before, forcing a mirthful scream to rise from her throat.

But did the brushes really slow down? Did the brushes really hasten in speed? It was so hard for Aliza to tell, between all the tickling and the screaming and the awful cloud of hopelessness that hung over her. Aliza couldn't truly tell if the brushes did anything, aside from tickle her. Maybe, Aliza thought in a brief moment where the tickling didn't fog her mind, she sessionwas mistaken. Maybe, the idea of the brushes fluctuating in speed had simply been a strange kind of coping, hoping that the mechanism would have some mercy.