A New Game Show

A New Game Show


            Savanna waited for the signal, from The Ultimate Game Show host.  It seemed easy enough.  She had to make it through the obstacle course, and get back, sit down in the chair, and press both buttons, at the end of each armrest, before the her opponent, without losing her shoes.  Doing so, would qualify her for a chance to try and win $250,000 dollars, in the next round.  She just wished that she was dressed more for an obstacle course, but she was wearing the required attire.  She was wearing tight blue-jeans, which were a little bit long and scrunched up at her ankles, with an orange sleeveless top, and brown, high-heeled, slip-on sandals.  She was definitely going to have a time running.  The other girl, though, was dressed almost exactly the same, so Savanna felt that she would have no trouble.

            The gunshot sounded, to signify the starting of the race.  Savanna ran for dear life, as fast as her shoes would allow her to run.  She stepped in and out of the tires, and then went across the netting.  A foot slipped through the net a time or two, and once she felt sure that she would lose a shoe, but she managed to hold on.  As hard a time as she was having, Savanna noticed that her opponent was doing nowhere near as well.  What Savanna did not realize, was that her opponent was actually an employee of The Ultimate Game Show, and was lagging behind for a reason.  The reason was that Savanna was supposed to win.  Savanna was supposed to win, because winning the $250,000 was going to entail a lot more than she had asked for.

            The last leg of the race was to climb the wall.  After a couple of attempts, Savanna was able to scale the wall.  On her way down, her right sandal fell off, which was fine, just as long as she put it right back on and continued on.  Looking behind her, she could see that her opponent was nowhere close, so she took her time.  Finally, settling into the chair, and with a slight cockiness, threw both hands up in the air and slammed them down on the buttons.

            Her cockiness took a sudden plunge, as mechanical straps started coming out of the chair.  The first around her wrists, then her forearms, then her biceps.  A foot rest shot out of the chair, coming up underneath her feet.  Straps came out of the footrest, binding her legs together at the thighs, calves, and ankles.  A final strap wrapped around her waist, securing her body to the chair.

            Savanna only laughed, thinking that it was part of the game.  If only she knew just how much a part of the game it was.

            "So, Savanna," the host's voice boomed.  "You've won the race.  Are your ready to try and win your $250,000 dollars."

            "Just tell me what I've gotta do," Savanna gleamed with excitement, although her cheek itched, and she couldn't scratch it.

            "Well, you remember how I told you that you would find out part II when you got to it?"  The host asked her, slyly.

            "Yes, I do," Savanna answered.

            "Well, here you go," the host continued.  As he spoke, four women came walking out from backstage, wearing red bikinis and red high-heeled pumps.

            "Savanna," the host kept speaking, "Remember this word - 'forfeiture'.  If at any point during the next forty-five minutes you are ready to give up the $250,000 dollars, you must say that word."

            "Why would I do that," Savanna said, with a look of insolence on her face.

            "You tell me," the host said, pushing a button on his remote.

            At that point, the straps holding her arms began to rotate her arms, so that the palms of her hands were pointed upward.  Once her palms were pointed upward, the armrests began opening outward, until her arms were pointed straight out at her sides.  The armrests then proceeded to fold upward, until Savanna was pointing her fingers to the ceiling.

            "What do I have to do?"  Savanna was still clueless.

            Each of the four women had long fingernails.  They walked over, and gathered around Savanna.  One stood on each side of her, at her arms, and one at each corner, where her feet hung off the edge, her sandals dangling off the ends of her feet.

            "You don't have to do anything," the host said, "except keep from saying the password."

            "Why, what is......hey, what are you doing?"  One of the women was taking of Savanna's right sandal.  A split second later, the woman at Savanna's left foot slowly slipped off that sandal.

            "What's going on here?"  Savanna was still in good humor, but was growing very suspicious.  "Why are you taking off my shoes?"

            Savanna's eyes nearly popped out of her head, when the women started flexing their fingers and squatting down all around her.

            "You're not going to tickle me, are you?"  For the first time Savanna was starting to struggle against her restraints.

            "Wait a minute; nobody said anything abaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahoho” Savanna was cut off midstream, as she felt fingernails scratching against her right arm-pit.

            "Dohohon't dohohoh thahahat," she fussed at the woman on her right.

            The woman acted as if she didn't hear her.  She continued lightly scratching her long nails all over Savanna's very sensitive armpits.  Savanna was jerking trying to pull her armpit away, when the girl on her left started scratching that armpit, lightly.

            "Waaaaaaaaaaahoohoohoohoohoohoo, stahahahahahop thahahahahahahat, thahahahahahat tihihihihihihickles."

            There was no stopping, not for forty-five minutes, anyhow.  They continued lightly stroking Savanna's underarms, as her laughter increased in intensity.

            After watching for a few minutes, the women at her feet decided that they should start in, as well.  The simultaneously started scratching their long fingernails up and down Savanna's helpless, ticklish soles.  Savanna surged against her restraints, showing just how sensitive her little size 6 1/2 feet were.  She scrunched her toes, and tried block it out, but the ladies just tickled the tops of her feet, until she opened her toes back up.  Then they grabbed her toes, and pulling them back, tickled all underneath her toes.

            The crowd was going wild, watching as Savanna laughed hysterically.  Savanna was extremely ticklish, and she had always been.  She thought when the questionnaire had asked about her ticklishness, that it was just an innocent question, and thus answered too honestly.  The women at Savanna's feet continued using one hand to torment her helpless soles, while using their other hand to reach up and start squeezing around her knees, which Savanna had no capability of moving, whatsoever.   This brought new high-pitched squeals, and they continued doing it for several minutes.

            Meanwhile, the other two women were still using five long fingernails each to torture each of Savanna's sensitive underarms.  Their other five fingernails were venturing into Savanna's rib cage, poking around and grabbing.  They got amazing response, when they dug into the ribs.  This caused Savanna to buck violently, and surge with explosive spurts of laughter.

            Savanna was screaming "forfeiture" after about 12 or 13 minutes, but no one cared.  She was getting the $250,000 dollars.  The crew knew that from the beginning.  The people paid to see someone tickled non-stop, for 45 minutes, and that's what they were going to get.  If she passed out, they would stop the timer, and start it again, when she woke back up.

            Savanna was a real trooper, and didn't pass out, although she did wet herself at the 17:56 mark and the 31:44 mark.

            By the time the tickling was finished, Savanna was a sweaty, crying mess, and was so weak she could not lift herself from the chair.  She smelled of urine, and was having trouble breathing, but she didn't care because the tickling had stopped.

            The host walked over.

            "Savanna, how do you feel?"

            "They didn't stop," Savanna said weakly.  "I said it a thousand times, and they didn't stop."

            "That's because they weren't supposed to stop," the host said.  "I'm sorry we kept that little tidbit from you, but I do have good news."

            "What, now," Savanna could barely speak, for being so out of breath, "More tickling?"

            "No, no more of that.  How does it feel to be $250,000 richer?"

            "What!?!  I won!?!  But...but..."

            The host interrupted, and told her the entire story, and about how she had the $250,000 whether she said the password or not, it was just a gimmick.  Once Savanna had calmed down, they led her off the stage, to cut her a check, and get her cleaned up.

            "Well, for all of you out there who enjoyed tonight's show," the host continued.  "We're thinking of making it a regular, prime-time show, if the networks will allow.  Until then, I'm your hose, The Tickle King.  Good night, everyone."