hugodw

*this story is not meant to arouse or sexualize, but is a fun tickle story about a situation from my own personal youth that I used to sit around daydreaming about happening. Contents are fictitious* Long ago, I had decided to accept Jesus into my heart and wanted to take the steps to show that publicly. Baptism is such an important part of anyone young believer’s journey that I felt ready to take. Our church went all out for Baptism Sunday. The service would carve out dedicated time for anyone getting baptized, even if it was just one person, to celebrate it as a congregation. I was nervous yet excited. There is a point during the sermon that I knew was my queue to follow the baptism director to go get prepped. The Preacher called the choir up, and I went with the baptism director. Her name was Ms. Laurie. Ms. Laurie took me by the hand and led me up to the storage area behind the baptismal. It was a glorified attic. Lots of boxes and props from other events the church had had in the past, lots of choir robes and folding chairs and baptismal robes. I was wearing a black sweater, a pair of jeans, and cotton white underwear and socks with a pair of converse. The baptismal robe was quite large so I did need some help putting it on. It was a long, wide, flowy white robe with a red scarf, long enough to drag a few inches on the ground even with it being draped over both shoulders. I sat down, taking my shirt off and prepping myself for being out there. I was so nervous. Ms. Laurie came over and helped me take my shoes and socks off. My little soft, white as sheets bare feet and toes were out and i spread them a little bit. I took my pants off and was in my underwear, waiting on Ms. Laurie to come back with the baptismal robe. Once she did, she set it down next to me, holding the long scarf. She seemed to notice how nervous I was and she knelt down next to me and said “Do you want to get some of those nervous butterflies out?” I nodded, seeing as this was going to be my very first time up in front of the entire congregation before. Ms. Laurie smiled and held my hand “Now, you have to be very good and still for me for a moment. Can I trust you?” “Of course!” I said. Ms. Laurie went to work doing something I never would’ve expected or guessed had you given me 1,000 attempts. She took the scarf from the robe and tied my hands together with them, leaving a good number of taut scarf and threw it over a clothing rack pole directly above me on the bench. She tied that part of the robe, securing my wrists above me. With surprise and fear in my eyes, I question “What’s going on? What are you going to do to me??” I began to fear this woman I have trusted my entire life was going to cause me harm. “Don’t worry, nothing bad is going to happen to you” stated Laurie in a calm, reassuring tone. Just as Laurie took a seat at the end of the bench, placing my exposed ankles and feet in her lap, the choir began to sing. They had three songs planned for the service, lasting around ten minutes. Ms. Laurie crossed my ankles and grabbed a much smaller strip of velvet, binding my ankles with it. “Now,” said Laurie, “the choir will be singing loud enough that nothing that happens back here will be able to be heard. I am going to tickle you until it’s time to take you out for your baptism. Hopefully getting all those giggles out will help make you less nervous.” Hearing that I was going to be tickled not only made me feel better, it made me excited. Growing up, whether it be parents, family members, babysitters, friends, siblings, anyone really who I could find myself being tickled by, I threw myself into those situations. I knew Ms. Laurie knew this and was ready for it. She almost immediately began with light scuttles across my buttery soft arched, naturally wrinkled from the way they were tied to rest against each other. I didn’t hold back and threw my head back in ticklish mirth. This went on the entire first song, getting every ticklish square inch explored by Laurie’s surprisingly experienced hands. From the very tippy tips of my toes, to the place my heels and ankle meets and every place in between, my feet were throughly, carefully, intently tickled. The song ended and so did my tickling, just a few moments before to give my dizzy little head a moment to catch my breath and cease my laughing. Once the second song ended, Laurie got up and set my feet back on the bench, tying the loose bits of cloth in between the slots in the wooden bench, securing my lower body in place. She came behind me and straddled the bench, placing me directly between her legs and up against her torso. Once the second song began, her pointed, devious nails scurried their way all along my sides, immediately sending me in a tizzy of squirms and tugs of my wrist restraints, cackling like a maniac. I had never been held so taut and exposed, and the tickling was reflectively unbearable. She spend a few moments deeply teasing my sides, from the base of my hips all the way up to the points of my elbows before taking a more subdued approach on my belly, forgoing her nails and using the soft tips of her fingers and digging into my stomach. This was worse than the nails and i was left laughing so hard to the point of silence and tears, intercut by sharp jolts of laughter. The second song ended, as did the symphony of tickles. For the final song, my ankles were uncrossed but left tied to the bench. Laurie went and grabbed two communion wafers and placed them precariously on my big toes. “Now, I want to see no squirming or moving out of these feet, mister. If you drop these, you’ll be tickled beyond your wildest imagination” Not even giving me a moment to think about how heavenly even more and worse tickling at her hands would be, the third song began and she starts scratching with just her pointer fingers. I do my best to stifle my laughter and hold still but QUICKLY break into uncontrollable belly giggles and thankfully hold my toes as high as hands in worship. Every so often, another finger would be added. My mind was blown with how much more unbearable each added finger made the ticklish affair. Around the time the song winded down, she added her thumb and quickly ravaged my feet, engulfing almost the entire exposed area of the bottoms of my feet with her large, spread hands and fingers. I failed and dropped the wafers after what seemed like an eternal torment of tickling. I got untied and dressed up, ready for my baptism. Laurie leaned in and whispered right as i was going under the water “You aren’t getting away with dropping the wafers, mister” and began stealthily tickling my sides as she pulled me under the water.