From no@no.no Sat May 17 22:54:46 1997 Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories Subject: Disney: Tickling (Cinderella, Ariel, Belle, Jasmine) From: "Col. Kink" <no@no.no> Date: Sat, 17 May 1997 22:54:46 -0400 -------- The Wonderful World of Tickling by hlprice@prairienet.org comments welcomed. Almost all characters described within are owned entirely by the Walt Disney company, and I claim no copyright to neither the characters nor the story. It's just a sick and perverted little fantasy that I felt like sharing with the group. That said, let our story begin: Prologue: (In which the villain of the piece escapes to another dimension.) Bored, bored, bored, he thought to himself. The lithe of the exhausted young ladies lay limp on his bed, still bound to their stocks and harnesses. Quills and other implements of torture gave silent answer to the reason why the sleeping girls rested with such wide smiles. His fingers toyed lazily with the odd looking device. Lights blinked idly on the control panel. It was given to him by a strange man in a dark alley. "I know what you do," he rasped. "This will be something you like." That had been weeks ago. He remembered being afraid, fearing the man might be ready to blackmail him over his kidnapping young girls and tickling them in his basement. But the man quickly disappeared, and as yet he found no way the device assisted in his tickling. He assumed the man was crazy, and perhaps had confused him with some other person. Still, he played with the device, curious about its functions. Suddenly, a red light began blinking; an audible countdown came from a small speaker: "Transfer in five, four..." In panic, fearing he had triggered some bomb, he ran toward the door, ready to hurl the device far from him. "...two, one..." He reached back to throw. "Jump initiated." The world went white around him. He thought he was dead. Then the color came back--emerald greens, ruby reds. Brilliant colors. And something else... He looked down at himself. Like his surroundings, he had changed as well. So had the device. He was a cartoon. He ran, leaving little cartoon puffs of dust behind him. After a while, he stopped, out of breath. He leaned against a tree, and rested. While he rested, he watched. Other cartoon people walked about him, some merely walking, others engaged in regular cartoon silliness. One girl, drawn extremely well caught his attention, and he thought to himself that if he were ever able to find a tickling cartoon, this is the girl he'd want starring in it. No sooner than he thought it, the girl was grabbed by two cartoon Arabs, who tied her to a camel and began tickling her mercilessly. He gaped. Coincidence. It had to be He looked around and spotted Little Red Riding Hood, ready to skip through the woods to grandmother's house. He thought about the wolf ripping Red's clothes off and tickling her ribs. Again, the thought became deed. He looked at the device that brought him here. The LED readout was blinking "RECORDING", then stopped. I am going to like this, he thought. It's insane, and it's sick. But I am going to enjoy this. With a villainous laugh, he drew his cape about him (a cape that had just appeared, because he felt that he should have one) and disappeared from view in a puff of smoke. Chapter 1: A Dream Is A Wish (In which Cinderella is punished by her wicked stepmother, and how her mice and bird friends help her make the best of a bad situation. "And you'll stay here until your sisters and I feel you have had proper time to reflect upon your behavior," the wicked stepmother said, as she tightened the metal cuffs around Cinderella's wrists and ankles. Cinderella had suffered the misfortune of coming out of the bathtub after having used all the soap, which sent both Drizella and Anastasia into fits. To placate the girls, the stepmother grabbed Cinderella and bound her in her room on her mattress, without even giving the poor girl a chance to dress. The door shut behind the stepmother. An almost inaudible click signalled that the door had been locked from the outside. Cinderella sighed, and stared out her open window. She gave a gentle tug with her wrists and ankles, but they were all bound tightly, to each corner of the bed. Hearing Cinderella's sigh, her little mice friends came scurrying from their holes and jumped onto the side of the bed. Jaq, the leader, scampered up to the wrist cuff, and tried to nibble through, hurting his tooth. "It's no use, Jaq," Cinderella said. "I'll never get up from here until stepmother allows me." "Zuk zuk," replied Jaq. "We'll help Cinderelly," he said cheerily. "Don't know how, though," he mumbled to himself. Cinderella began to cry silently. "Zuk zuk," said Jaq, "don't cry Cinderelly. We'll find a way to help." He climbed down from the wrist cuff, and began pacing up and down the length of the mattress. As he did so, his long whiskers dragged along Cinderella's side from armpit to hip. "Tee hee," laughed Cinderella. "Jaq, that tickles." "Ticklee?" Jaq asked. "Look, look," one of the female mice exclaimed. "Cinderelly happy, Cinderelly laugh." "Yes, yes," another mouse replied. "Jaq does good job! Let's help Jaq!" Immediately, nearly a dozen little mice scampered onto the mattress, past the confused Jaq. "What?" Cinderella asked, "No, no, Ieee hee heee heee..." Jaq looked around. "Zuk zuk. What? Jaq did good. What Jaq did good?" He looked up, and saw the other mice, scampering across Cinderella's belly. Two boy mice had taken up residence , one each beneath Cinderella's armpits and were busily scraping at the soft flesh. The rest of the mice had lined up along Cinderella's sides, and had taken a rib apeice, busily tickling away with their tiny little hands. "Oh," Jaq replied, seeing the hysterics Cinderella was in. "That Jaq did good! Cinderelly really happy now. Jaq did good!" Jaq climbed onto Cinderella's belly, no easy task, as it was heaving to and fro. He was nearly knocked off, and quickly scampered up to her chest, bracing himself between her breasts. "Cinderelly happy?" Jaq asked. "Nahaahaa haaa ahaaa heeeee heee," Cinderella laughed. The tiny little hands were worse than being tickled by full sized hands. The seemed to target her ticklish spots expertly, and she was unable to draw a breath. Impressed that he had made Cinderella happy, Jaq smiled to himself. He leaned against Cinderella's left breast, while his tail made loopy little circles around her right nipple, adding to the tickling. "What's going on," a voice chirped from the window. Jaq looked up, and saw the bluebirds from the tree outside, perched on the windowsill and viewing Cinderella's situation with bemusement. Jaq ran down Cinderella's body and up her bound leg, toward the window sill. "Cinderelly was sad," Jaq said. "We make Cinderelly happy again. See?" "He hel help heeee plee heee heeeeeese", Cinderella asked desperately. "Zuk zuk. Hmm," Jaq mused. He looked at Cinderella, then at the birds. "Oh, I understand now, zuk zuk," he said. "Cinderelly wants you to help us make her happy. C'mon!" One bird looked at the other, and shrugged. Then, the two of them flew in and perched on the foot of the bed. "Noohooo ho ho, nooo my fee hee heeet, tee hee hee," Cinderella begged. The birds looked about, and saw Cinderella's bare feet bound to the end of the bed. Oh, they realized, that must be where we should help. Each bird extended a wing to Cinderella's bare soles, and began stroking with their feathers. Cinderella's laughter became louder. Jaq was pleased with himself. He had never made Cinderelly so happy before. He began to march back up her leg to resume his seat, when he stopped. "Sniff, sniff. Hmm," he thought. "Cinderelly just took bath. But must have missed something." He sniffed around a bit more, and found the scent coming from where Cinderella's legs came together. Scampering down her waste, he saw a bare, pink knob glistening amid Cinderella's golden curls. He sniffed again. "Zuk. Yup, this what Cinderelly missed. No problem, though! Jaq take care of it." And so saying, the little mouse began cleaning Cinderella with his tongue, much the same way he cleaned himself. Cinderella was in hysterics. The tickling was unbearable, but now her laughter was mixed with intermittent moans of pleasure. "Zuk! This part never come clean," Jaq said, irritably, and went back about his business cleaning Cinderella. And in a dark corner of the room, hidden in the shadows, a dark figure stood. The only thing visible about the figure was a red light, about waist high, blinking a single word: RECORDING. Chapter 2: Under The Sea (In which Ariel finds herself entangled, until her fishy friends come to her rescue.) Ariel walked lazily down the shore, gazing longingly out toward the sea. She had prepared to swim today, wearing her seashell bikini top and white cotton skirt. But swimming was more special for Ariel than it was for any other girls in the town. For one thing, Ariel was married to Prince Erik, which afforded her a private beach. For another, Ariel was part mermaid. Slowly, she waded out into the frothy waters, sinking deeper and deeper. Her skirt floated up around her, until finally she was waist high. She removed the skirt, draping it over some outlying rocks to be retrieved when she came out. When the water came up to her breasts, Ariel ducked totally under the water. Ariel was ever so greatful to her father, King Neptune, for giving her legs so that she could be with her love, Prince Erik. But she was even more grateful that his gift didn't come with the curse that the Sea Witch, Ursula, had placed upon her when presenting her with the same gift, namely, the loss of her ability to breath underwater. King Triton wanted his daughter to be able to visit freely, and made sure she would be able to make the trip, even without a mermaid's tail. She swam along the ocean bottom, poking oysters for pearls and shooing along slow-moving crabs. She was having the time of her life, when her foot got caught on something. She looked down, and found that her left foot had become entangled in kelp. As she knelt down to untangle herself, she saw more strings of kelp dart after her right foot. She tried to swim upward and away, but the kelp held her fast. Soon, both feet were firmly in the grip of this seaweed which had decided to take on a life of its own. She began screaming for help, hoping that one of her former fish friends would come to her rescue. As she screamed, more sea fronds wrapped themselves around her wrists, and pulled her down, stretching her taught until she floated vertically, helpless beneath the water. Ariel began to panic. She had never seen seaweed act this way before, except in the cave of the Sea Witch. She realized the seaweed must have been under some kind of spell. As she thrashed about, more fronds grew from the silt beneath her, reaching toward her helpless body, stopping mere inches away from her. "What now," she began to wonder. "Are they going to wrap me up totally like a mummy?" Her answer came, as the fronds tilted toward her, stroking her armpits and ribcage, evoking a startled giggle from the fiery haired swimmer. "He-hey, stop that," she scolded. "That ti-hi-hickles." Her cries went unheeded. The lengths of kelp continued their maddening stroking, making little circles around her armpits, along her ribs, and dipping down into her navel. Ariel could not control her laughter; nor could she even gather the control to call for help any longer. All she could do was to accept the tickling and hope beyond hope that it would eventually stop. It stopped sooner than she expected it. Looking about, she saw a pair of octopi, whom she had assumed had come to her rescue. "Oh, thank you, friends," she gasped. "Please, help me get out of this seaweed. It's been driving me crazy with tickling." The octopi looked at each other. Then, one reached out a long slender tentacle toward Ariel. "Just reach out and rip it off," she suggested. And the octopus did--but not the kelp; her seashell bikini top. "No, no," Ariel protested, "the seaweed, the seawee- hee-heeeeed haah haa hahahaha..." The octopus had begun stroking her ribs with his tentacles now, using the tips of two tentacles to tickle Ariel's exposed breasts and nipples. The new texture created an entirely different but equally maddening tickling sensation, which only increased when the other octopus began tickling her feet. Ariel hadn't had feet that long, so they hadn't been able to build up the natural callousness that other girls her age would have. Feet being normally ticklish, Ariel's were nevertheless more so, and as smooth as a newborn babe's. While the octopus tickled her feet, other tentacles stroked and poked inner thighs and wiggled beneath her knees. This tickling in these new and tender areas of her body sent the poor girl insane with laughter. She couldn't form a coherent sentence, and could only barely sense when the one octopus quit tickling her breasts, choosing instead to apply its suction cups to her nipples, gently tugging at them. The octopus tickling her feet and legs slowly inched its remaining tentacle toward Ariel's last newly acquired body part--her vagina. The tentacle made slow, deliberate circles around the fiery red hair surrounding her slit, before gently forcing its way into her. Ariel's eyes went wide. Her hysteria grew louder from the insane tickle torture she was receiving, as her body began to tense up, and she screamed in mirth as she experienced the most intense orgasm she had ever felt before passing out. The octopi swam away and the kelp sank back into the ground from whence they sprouted, allowing the naked, sleeping girl to float gently to the ocean floor. No one noticed the dark figure hiding behind a rock, wearing strange tanks labelled "Oxygen" on his back. Nor did they notice the strange instrument he held, with the word "RECORDING" blinking in strange red letters across the instrument's face. Chapter 3: Be Our Guest (In which Belle retires for the evening, and has a late night encounter with the household cleaning staff.) Belle was exhausted. The kitchen staff had prepared her a wonderful meal, and had even provided an excellent floorshow. After eating, she bid Lumiere and Cogsworth good night, and retired to the chamber the Beast had appointed her. She still wasn't used to the fact that nearly everything in the house was a living enchanted object. She felt uneasy taking her clothes off for bed, wondering which objects in the room might be hidden voyeurs. Naked, she slipped under the covers, looking about for anything that might give a telltale movement. Soon, however, she was drifting off to sleep... Suddenly, she felt the bed heave. The wrought iron headboard and footboard uncoiled, ripping the blanket from her and wrapping itself about her wrists and ankles. "Stop this," she cried, anxiously. She struggled against her bonds, but while the wrought iron seemed fluid enough when it moved on it's own, it remained as intractable when she pulled against it as regular, non-enchanted wrought iron would be. "What's going on," she asked. "What's the meaning of this?" A titter caught her attention. "Why, honey," a lilting voice said, "you've still more people to meet." Belle tilted her head in the direction of the voice. There, on the floor, stood a little whisk broom. "You've met the kitchen staff already," she said. "But, as usual, that dumb candle thinks the cleaning staff is beneath recognition." "But I don't think that at all," Belle replied. "Why, I'd be happy to meet each and every one of you if only..." "And you will, honey," the broom replied. "We're all gathered here in your room." As she spoke, the rooms candles burned brighter, illuminating the floor. There, standing about the room were numerous whisk brooms, some scrubbing brushes, and a veritable army of feather dusters. "How, how do you do," Belle stammered. "I'm pleased to meet you all. Now could you please, please let me go?" "I'd like to, honey," the whisk broom replied, "but we've got orders to keep you happy. Don't know why it's our job, but we've been told to do it, and that's what were going to do." "It would make me very, very happy," Belle cajoled, "if you would convince this bed to turn me loose." "It might at that," the broom said. "Then again, we've had a better suggestion." "Suggestion," Belle asked. "From the Beast?" "Nope, not him," the broom replied. "Someone else. Can't say who. Just have to follow orders. 'Make Belle happy!', them's the orders. So troops..." "Please, let me go..." "Follow them orders: Make Belle happy!" The brooms hopped up onto the bed, and began to perform a little broom-swish dance down Belle's legs and around her outstretched armpits. "No!" Belle cried. "Stop that! You're hee-hee, you're tickling me!" "That's the idea, sweetie," the broom replied. "Second battalion: You're up!" At that, the army of feather dusters leaped onto the mattress, and began pirhouetting across Belle's taut belly and young, firm breasts. "Pleeheeheeease, sto-ha-ha-hap it," Belle shrieked. "I cahahan't stahahahaaand it. Hahahaheeee hheeeehee!" "Ah, sure you can," the broom admonished. "We haven't even really started yet. Third battalion: Move in!" The few scrub brushes that remained behind moved up to the foot of the bed, and began to scrabble rapidly around Belle's captured bare feet, scrubbing her heels, soles and toes. Belle was in tears, laughing hysterically, and praying for the torment to stop. Feather dusters danced wildly across her breasts, occassionally dabbling into her armpits and around her neck. Some of them moved their ballet down her belly, across her special area as they moved down to her thighs. After an unmeasurable amount of time had passed, Belle succombed to her torment and mercifully passed out. Some time later, she awoke. She was no longer restrained, but sprawled out naked on the bed, glistening with sweat. Had the entire thing been a dream? She wondered about this, even as she realized the incredibly aroused state she had awakened in. Idly, she reached down between her legs to ease her tension, when her hand touched something. She brought it up before her to examine: it was a loose feather, left behind from one of the dusters. Belle smiled wanly at the feather, before bringing it back down to her private area and using it to bring herself to an incredibly relaxing orgasm. In the corner of the room, the word "RECORDING" blinked silently in red letters. Chapter 4: A Whole New World (In which the lamp is stolen by persons unknown, and wherein the genie pays an unexpected call on Jasmine.) Jasmine lay resting dreamily on her bed of pillows. Tomorrow, she and the boy Aladdin were to be married. She smiled and sighed at the thought that tomorrow she would share her bed with the one who had rescued her and the entire Sultanate from the clutches of the mad vizier, Jafar. Suddenly, at that moment, the genie Jafar appeared in her room, surrounded by red smoke. "Jafar!" she shouted. "What are you doing here?" she demanded. "You're supposed to be imprisoned in your lamp, buried in the Cave of Wonders." "Ah, yes Princess," Jafar replied, dripping venom and honey, "that would be true. But alas, someone has found the lamp. And loathe as I am to serve any master, I quickly acceded to his wishes when I learned that they entailed you." Turning quickly, Jasmine ran toward the door to her chamber to call for the palace guards. "Ah, ah, ah," Jafar scolded. From nowhere, disembodied hands grabbed Jasmine's wrists and ankles, turned her upside-down, and floated her back to the evil genie. "What do you want with me, Jafar," Jasmine spat. "What do I want?" he replied innocently. "Why, I live only to serve my master. It is what he wants that should concern you." "And that is?" Jasmine asked, glowering. She tried her best to look like she was in control, despite being held helpless, topsy-turvy in mid-air. "Well," Jafar hissed, "this might give you a clue." He reached for Jasmine's foot, and as he did so, the shoe that was on it disappeared into smoke. He extended his long fingernail to her bare sole and gave a few strokes. Jasmine yelped, but suppressed her laughter, refusing to give in to the evil genie. "Hmmm. You have excellent control of yourself, my dear," Jafar said amusedly. "But let's see how you fare when your concentration is divided." And with that, he conjured more disembodied hands that came at Jasmine from all directions. Some of them bore long peacock feathers, others came with merely wiggling fingers. Jasmine gulped, as she realized their vile intentions. As they approached her body, she blushed as she realized the evil former vizier had caused every stitch of her clothing to be magically removed. The hands all reached her simultaneously, tickling at her armpits, her feet, behind her knees, poking at her ribs and kneading her thighs. Feathers stroked at her feet and down her chest around her breaths. Jasmine held her breath, refusing to let out even the slightest giggle for the satisfaction of the genie. Jafar regarded her with amusement, and realized that she could not hold out forever. If he could just get that first giggle going... "I see I'm going to need something to get you started," he said. A pair of hands grabbed her buttocks and spread them wide. Another hand appeared from nowhere, holding a strange, phallic shaped object. The object was smooth, and an odd humming noise came from it, as though it were home to a swarm of hornets. The hand brought the object to her spread buttocks and traced small circles about her exposed hole. The vibrations from this thing caused Jasmine to let out a gasp of astonishment, which was all that was necessary for her to lose her concentration. "What is that eheeheeevil thiheeeheeeng," she blurted out. "Mahaake it stohahahap, I commahaaand youhoohoohoo." "You command?" Jafar asked. "Princess, your days of commanding are over. I am in charge now." Fingers danced across the soles of the Princess' feet. The blood rushed to her head, making her dizzy. Every time she looked, it seemed as if more hands were appearing, until no spare inch of her skin went untickled. "Hehehellp," she screamed, hysterically. "Alahaaaadihiihiin, heheheheeelp meeheeheehee.!" At that time, Aladdin burst through the doorway. "Unhand her, Jafar," he shouted as he drew his sword. "Let her go, or I'll carve you into ribbons." Jafar laughed at the youth's threats. "Why do you want to hurt me?" he asked innocently. "Look." He gestured to the helpless, hysterical Jasmine. His voice took on an hypnotic tone. "Look at what I offer you. Tell me you don't want her." Aladdin lowered his sword slowly, his eyes glazing over as he fell into Jafar's spell. "Alaahaahadin, dohohon't listen to heeheeheeem," Jasmine screamed. Aladdin walked to Jasmine, helpless in the grip of his trance. "Take her, Aladdin," Jafar cajoled. "She's yours. Take her." The hands, never missing a tickling beat, turned Jasmine and lowered her until her musk perfumed coint was even with Aladdin's face. In a move akin to a cobra's strike, Aladdin's mouth dove for Jasmine. "Alahaadihin, dohohon't," she cried. "Stahahap this nohohow... haahaaahaha haha teehee, mmmmmmm, giggle, mmmmmm, ooooohhh..." Behind the ornate curtains, a figure stood silent, illuminated only by the glowing word "RECORD" which floated in front of him. Epilogue: (In which the villain collects himself and his belongings.) He relaxed along the banks of a purple river, while daisies and tulips argued several feet away from him as to which flower was the most important in the schemes of romance. He examined the box in his hands. He had learned more about it since his first transfer with the machine, and now felt confident in its every function. As he prepared to transfer, he did, however, have some concern as to whether or not he would return to his own world or to some other world as strange or stranger than the one he had left. He decided it didn't really matter. If he returned home, he would play back everything he had recorded and make a mint in the tickling fetish community with his one-of-a-kind videos. If he went elsewhere, well, that was simply more to record until he finally did get home. He looked about whistfully. He was sure there was more mischief he could get into here. But, he was growing bored again, and felt the need to move on. He fingered the controls on the machine. "Transfer in five, four..." And he was gone.