"How did we let ourselves get into this situation?" Getraer asked, glumly.
Ponch sighed and stared grumpily into space. The two officers were being held hostage in an old abandoned warehouse. They were tied back to back in their chairs, ropes restraining their arms, chests, and legs. For over an hour they'd been trying to get themselves free, but it was no use. They were completely helpless. They were both barefoot and had been stripped of all their gear. Neither of them had any idea why they had been captured or what was going to happen to them.
It all started earlier that evening. Ponch was working with Getraer that day because Jon was busy at the station. Things were going pretty well until they met a certain young woman. She was really more of a teenager…about sixteen or seventeen years old. They found her crying on the side of the highway and asked her what was wrong. She told them that her name was Agatha Parsons and that she was lost.
The two officers asked her where she lived and she gave them an address. But when they tried to bring her home, it turned out to be a trap.
So now here they were – being held hostage by a group of thugs. Possibly a case of mistaken identity, due to the way they were being treated. Whatever the reason, both officers were still confused and had many questions.
Ponch looked down at his bare feet and wiggled his toes. "Why would they take our boots?" he asked, puzzled.
Suddenly, they heard footsteps echoing through the building.
"Somebody's coming," whispered Getraer.
"It must Corky Malone," Ponch replied, sniffing the air.
"How do you know?"
"I can smell his deodorant. It's his favorite, I'd know it anywhere."
The footsteps grew louder and soon a young blond woman came into view. It was same girl from earlier. Apparently, what Ponch had smelled was perfume.
"You?! Why did you bring us here?" Getraer demanded. "What do you want from us?"
"I'll be asking the questions if you don't mind," she replied, boldly.
Then a pair of burly thugs came forward and locked Ponch's feet in a pair of wooden stocks. They did the same with Getraer.
The girl called Agatha grabbed a stool and sat down in front of Ponch's restrained feet. She leaned forward and looked him in the eye.
"So…who put you up to dressing as Highway Patrol Officers?"
Ponch rolled his eyes. "Look, I think you have us confused with someone else."
"Yes, we don't know who you people are, but all of you are in big trouble! Now let us go!" Getraer yelled, struggling against his bonds.
Agatha sighed sadly and shook her head. "I was really hoping you'd cooperate with me," she said. "But if you won't talk then I'll just have to get mean."
Ponch and Getraer tensed up. They were about to be interrogated, but they couldn't tell her anything because they didn't know anything. The two men tried to hide the feeling of dread that was slowly creeping through their bodies.
Agatha stared at Ponch's bare feet, admiring how smooth and tan and handsome they were. Then she reached into her jacket and pulled out a long, stiff, blue feather.
"Ticklish?" she asked, smirking.
Ponch's eyes widened. He opened his mouth to blurt out a plea of mercy but stopped himself. He just couldn't bear to lose his dignity to a girl. "No matter what you do to me, I won't talk!" he said, despite not knowing anything to begin with.
Agatha smiled coyly. "Alright then…it's tickle time!" And with that, she lowered the feather and began gliding it up and down the soles of his feet.
Ponch tried not to laugh but it was no use. The ticklish sensation shot through his body and he howled with laughter.
"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NONONO! STOP! STOP!" he begged through his laughs.
"That's it," Agatha said, grinning. "Laugh for me! Coochie coochie coo…"
Before this moment, Ponch had never known how ticklish he was. He couldn't remember the last time he had been tickled, but he was sure that it wasn't in such a helpless position as this. He had always taken pride in his beautiful feet but he was a little surprised to find out how insanely ticklish they were.
Getraer closed his eyes and cringed as he listened to Ponch's laughter. He didn't like hearing the poor guy suffer.
Agatha, however, was overjoyed at any opportunity to tickle torture a man. Her main job was to interrogate hostages and she was very good at her work. She let the feather stroke slowly up and down Ponch's heels and made swirling motions on the balls of his feet. Then she tickled each one of his cute brown toes. The feather brushed back and forth along the undersides of his toes and stroked the pads of each one.
Ponch was absolutely hysterical with laughter. He would have told her everything. He would have spilled his guts. But he was truly unable to answer any of her questions.
"NOOOOO! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOT BETWEEN THE TOES! OOOOOOOHHHH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! PLEASE STOP!" Ponch screamed.
Agatha said nothing but continued tickling mercilessly. His toes wiggled and curled as they tried to get away from the feather. But there was no escape or relief from the brutal tickling.
After several minutes, Agatha stopped tickling his toes and let the feather travel down the feet until she came to his insteps. As soon as his insteps were caressed with the soft feather, Ponch arched his back and shrieked girlishly. This was his most ticklish spot of all.
"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! OH GOD, PLEASE STOOOOOOOP! HOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO! HEEEEHEEHEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEEHEHE! I CAN'T STAND IT! HELP! SOMEBODY HELP HAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"Sorry fella," Agatha replied, coldly. "But our policy is no mercy for traitors."
Getraer took pity on his suffering friend. "Hey, leave him alone!"
At this, Agatha stopped tickling Ponch and looked over at Getraer. "Excuse me, did you say something?" she asked in a somewhat playful tone.
"Quit picking on Ponch! Can't you see he really doesn't know anything?"
Agatha smiled wryly as she walked away from Ponch and took up position at Getraer's restrained feet.
"I think it's your turn to laugh now," she said, twirling the feather between her fingers.
Getraer swallowed hard, wiggling his toes in anticipation. "You wouldn't dare!"
Agatha ignored his protests and immediately started tickling. She brushed the feather up and down his bare feet.
Within seconds, Getraer was squealing and giggling like a school boy.
"NO DON'T! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOOO! CUT IT OUT! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I DON'T KNOW ANYTHING! EEEHEHEEHEHEHEHEHE I SWEAR!"
Agatha let the feather glide along the tender flesh of his insteps, focusing on that spot for several minutes before moving on to somewhere else. She teased and dabbed at his toes with the tip of the feather, driving him into even more hysterical laughter. The toes seemed to be his weakest spot so Agatha spent most of her time there, occasionally feathering the heels and balls of his feet also. She grinned wickedly as Getraer's face turned bright red from laughter. His feet weren't as handsome as Ponch's, but they were just as tender and ticklish.
"I'll show neither of you any mercy until you tell me what I want to know!" Agatha exclaimed, as she dragged the feather back and forth between his toes.
"PLEASE NOOOOO! AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHA! NOOOO MOOOOOORE!" Getraer wailed.
Agatha kept on tickling for a good ten minutes before she finally let up. Getraer was panting and gasping for air.
"So, do either of you guys feel like talking now?"
"I…I am Sergeant Joseph Getraer. And…and this is Officer Frank Poncherello," explained Getraer in a feeble voice.
Agatha rolled her eyes and face palmed in exasperation. "Still trying to play tough, eh? Well, ya know…I could keep on tickling you both for hours, or even days on end. But I really want to know what's going on here, you traitors! Now tell me who put you up to this or it's tickle time again!"
"But I'm telling you, this is all a mistake!" Ponch said, nervously.
Agatha heaved a sigh, then smiled slightly. "Oh well…I never get bored of tickling."
"Oh no! Not again!" Ponch whimpered, as Agatha took position at his helpless feet once again. He relaxed a bit when she put the feather away. But his relief was short-lived.
With a wicked grin, Agatha pulled back his big toes and began tickling his bare feet with her fingers.
Ponch threw back his head and laughed harder than ever before in his life. He couldn't even beg for mercy because he was laughing so hard. He bucked and squirmed violently in his chair. His ankles were bruised from trying so hard to pull them out of the stocks. Tears ran down his cheeks. He was in tickle hell.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAHAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! EEEEEEEEEHHEHEHEHEHEHEHEEHEHEHEHE! OOOOOOOOOOHHH HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Agatha didn't show a shred of mercy. She scratched mercilessly up and down both of his soles. Then she dug her fingers under and between his toes, playful grabbing each one of the long digits as she did so. "This little piggy went to market…This little piggy stayed home…"
Meanwhile outside, a random passerby heard the laughter and looked into the window to see what was going on. Moments later, the police were called and Jon came to the rescue in no time. Unfortunately for the two ticklish officers, Jon got there just in time to see exactly what kind of torture his friends were going through.
Soon afterwards, the gang of thugs were arrested and taken away, including Agatha. Once everything had calmed down a bit, Jon strolled over to Ponch who was trying to pull himself together.
Jon grinned at him. "So…ticklish, huh?"
Ponch blushed and glared at him, feeling embarrassed beyond words.
"Oh boy, " Jon said, chuckling. "I can't wait to tell all the guys at the station that the great Poncherello has been revealed as…Tickle-toes."
"Alright, alright! Lay off, will ya?" Ponch said, blushing fiercely.
Jon burst out laughing, knowing that he would never let poor Ponch hear the end of this.
The End