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🕑 Added 2025-10-15 09:56:03 +0000 UTCCondemned Soles in Tickle Hell
By KinkSaber
“Hey! You little shit! That’s my car!” The tiger shark roared at the younger looking deer who parked next to him. Gerald Raves – that’s Rah-Vees, as he so often corrected others who mispronounced his name – was a moderately wealthy, self-assertively successful, materialistic, and extremely jealous person. “Back off! Back the fuck off – don’t you dare touch my car!”
Jealous, as the dictionary definition and not the normally used version. Gerald Raves hated with a burning passion whenever he perceived his territory to be trespassed. Of course, the one time he did not park his high end sports car with four well-deserved spots, some idiot teenager pushed their shitwagon within inches of his just-detailed vehicle.
“I’m not touching your car, man!” The deer held both hands up and showed his palm to the rapidly approaching tiger shark, whose thick, meaty tail was erect with aggression. “Calm down! I don’t want any trouble. I was just leaving, anyway.”
“YOUR DOOR HIT THE SIDE OF MY CAR! You fucking vandal! Don’t you DARE drive off without leaving your insurance!” Gerald shouted at the retreating deer. He took a photo of the car, including the license plate, with an obvious flash (despite it being daytime) to intimidate the other driver. “I GOT YOUR PLATE! I got your plate, you asshole! I’m going to report you as a hit and run! My lawyer is going to RAKE YOU OVER THE COALS!”
“Dude! Get a life!” The deer shouted back. “I didn’t touch your car!”
The tiger shark’s demeanor became progressively aggressive and unhinged. The deer, in fear for his safety, floored his gas pedal and bolted out of the parking lot. He thought he was safe two blocks over when he saw in his rear view mirror the same car that the tiger shark claimed he had scratched speeding towards him. He let out a surprised yelp and once more floored the gas pedal the moment the lights turned green. He took a right turn, then another, then a third; and even cut through a gas station to skip a red light – but all of that was for naught when the same sports car was on his tail.
He knew the area well, the deer, and in the middle of his panic he remembered that there was a sheriff’s station not too far away. It was a bit of a stretch, though, but he knew he could cut through Farmer Brown's hidden route for the locals that didn’t show up on any GPS. He had driven through that path many times, and he gambled everything he had that the rich cityboy wouldn’t be able to follow him through there. The road was barely visible by the old oak tree.
He drove at a steady pace, and his palm began to sweat when he saw in the mirror that the sports car was catching up. It wasn’t far now. He took a left at the corner store and sped past the straight, unobstructed road. There were less vehicles once they had left the busiest part of town, which gave him a little more leeway to escape; but it also meant that the maniac behind him pushed his engine to the limit, too.
Past the park, past the old fisherman’s store. Past the giant inflatable beer. Past the turn that gave him just enough time to lose line of sight. The deer saw the oak tree from an arm’s reach away, and when it was clear he stepped on the gas once more and sped towards it; and as he practiced many times before he slowed for the turn, and as soon as he entered the old farm road, took off into the distance between the rows of corn and wheat. When he came out the other side of the field, he rocketed his car into Farmer Brown’s abandoned older barn, which was conveniently tucked behind the equipment shed where the tractors were kept, killed the engine, and waited in silence.
And waited.
And waited.
His heart pounded in his chest. A minute passed, then two, then five. When fifteen minutes passed and there were no signs of the tiger shark or any other cars through that native path, he got out of his car, picked up an old, rusty rake to defend himself, and carefully peeked his head out of the red barn door.
Nothing.
The town was as peaceful as it had ever been.
“Holy shit. I can’t believe I got away!” The deer cried. He fell to the floor, his knees weak as wet noodles. “Holy shit! I thought I was going to die!”
With the adrenaline of his near-death experience still fresh in his veins, the deer decided to extend his adventure to the local Bucky’s coffee shop – where he ordered a cup of oat milk cookie and cream latte with seventeen pumps of organic, cruelty free, ethically sourced vanilla syrup.
Then, in stereotypical Gen Z fashion, the deer posted about the insanity of his afternoon on social media for the likes and the clout, which to his credit received numerously; and the memory of the unhinged tiger shark faded from his mind as he started nineteen consecutive hours of doomscrolling from the safety of his hammock bed.
—
“Well, howh-dy!” A deep voice boomed with an unmistakable southern accent, which was strange, considering the last thing Gerald remembered was being two hours east of New Hawk City, doing his best to run the fucking shitbox of a car off the side of the road. The tiger shark saw stars, but the night sky was not the one that he was used to. It was red. Tainted so red that it seemed the atmosphere was painted in blood.
“What the fuck? Where the fuck am I?” He picked himself up from the ground, his head dizzy. There was a nausea that he could not understand from where it came. Did he crash? No. Nothing hurts. He patted his body down to double check. All around him were golden fields of wheat. Once again, something was incredibly off with what he saw. His vision was mildly blurry. Where was his car?
He turned around to find himself surrounded by nothing but wheat. The ground was soft. Soft? That’s not how the floor works. He blinked several times to get the blurriness to go away, then when he looked again, he screamed.
“WHAT THE FUCK?!”
The ground wasn’t dirt. The pulsating flesh under his feet throbbed with each step. He looked closer. The stalks of wheat ended in eyeballs covered in a yellow slime, and the corns frayed open revealed rotted fangs where the kernels should be.
“WHAT THE FUCK?!” He repeated. He took a step back, but then bumped into something that felt burned intense as lava and cold as glacier. Physically hot, chilled him to the bone, and both sensations seeped through his fancy tailored suit jacket at the same time. He turned around and fell on his ass once more, and felt grossed out by the writhing flesh that made up the ground below him. He screamed in panic, and then the tiger shark was picked up by two large, firm hands like he was a baby, and set on the floor on his feet once more.
The shock of being lifted knocked him out of the spasm just long enough for him to take a good look at the other. A ram. Larger than him, by a good two and a half feet. Gerald was by no means a small guy. He stood six foot high, worked out regularly, and was two hundred and fifty pounds of lean, pure fishcake. The suit he wore barely contained the muscles he packed. The gray ram, by contrast, had a belly bulge behind those denim overalls and looked like he was ready to hibernate. The fact that the ram lifted him so easily made him gasp and look at the bovine in the eye. He looked normal, at least.
No, something was off. He couldn’t put his finger on it. Hazy, but it was right in his face. Something. Something was incredibly wrong. It was on the tip of his tongue but it was impossible for his mind to pick it out among the sea of chaos.
“Where the fuck are we? Who the fuck are you?!” He finally said, now that his question had an audience.
“Easy there, sugar. One step at a time now.” The ram spat out the stalk of wheat from between his lips. “I’m Jebediah Brown, and boy, this here’s my farm y’all standing on. You can call me Pawpaw Jeb.”
“What kind of fucking farm is this!?” The tiger shark cried out loud. “This is the weirdest SHIT I’ve ever seen in my life! I need to get out of here, NOW!”
“Wow. Get with the times, they said – y’know, back in my days such language would not be tolerated.” The ram said firmly, with authority that could only come with rough age. “Sugar, you ain’t going nowhere. Saw you out there, chasin’ Solomon’s boy. Saw you from five miles away, I did, stomping that fancy gas pedal with hot steam puffing out y’all’s ears.”
“Solomon, is it?” The tiger shark said.
“Solomon’s boy.” The ram corrected. “Zeke Miller.”
“Well, that’s very helpful.” Gerald faked the pleasantry. He was out for blood. “For my lawyers.”
“Not for you, sugar.” The ram laughed. “Like I toldcha, you ain’t going nowhere. Not with that temper. I’d bet you’d run right off to hassle Solomon’s boy.”
“Listen, Pawpaw Taters or whatever!” The tiger shark leaned towards the ram and poked his finger into Jeb’s chest. Rude, but not unexpected; and given the difference in their stature there was essentially no force put behind the poke. “I’m going to sue the fuck out of that little shitstain, take his shitbox, sent it off to a scrap yard to crush into a tiny little metal cube, and there’s nothing you can do about it. I’ll sue you, too, if you won’t get outta my way!”
“Awh haw!” The ram chuckled heartily. “Gonna be mighty hard for ya to do that when you’re stuck here. Go on. Try. Try! I’m not stopping you!” The ram pointed towards the farm house across the field. “Exit’s that way.”
The tiger shark stuck out his tongue at the ram, who continued to laugh it off as Gerald stomped towards the farmhouse in the not-so-far distance. There was a bit of an uphill climb before a slope that took him back down. His sight was set on the house, but it seemed that every time he blinked the house became further away. He picked up a stick and smacked the wheat to entertain himself. His body grew warm, and the sound of abiotic flesh squelching beneath his loafers was soon filtered out of his brain. Whenever the stick in his hand struck the wheat, he swore he heard the tiniest screams belched by the root, as if each of the stalks were alive and conscious of the abuse.
“What the fuck?! How far is that goddamn house?!” The tiger shark groaned. Just as he raised the stick to strike at the wheat again, he noticed something. The stalk of wheat had already been broken. He looked ahead and saw broken stalks periodically, almost to the same rhythm of his walking pace where he’d swing his arm. “What the..”
He turned around, only to find that the ram stood silently behind him, no more than two feet away.
“HOLY FUCKING SHIT! WHERE DID YOU COME FROM?!” Gerald screamed, and whipped the stick at the ram.
“Like I said, sugar. You ain’t going anywhere!” Jeb laughed with a deeply chilling voice. The wooden stick barely touched him before it burst into flames. The skin and fur on the ram’s face melted away as it exposed the flesh and bone underneath, and the whites of the ram’s eyes blackened as blood ran down his skull cheeks like tears. His pupils glowed with the fury of hellfire while the iris turned scarlet red. “I rather like Solomon’s boy. He’s a little troublemaker but never fails to give me a good laugh on hallow’s eve. Why, last year, little Zeke sent me some very energetic visitors. A rapscallion by the name of.. Hmm. What was his name again?”
The tiger shark incoherently screamed and pointed at the horrendous, gory transformation that took place practically in his face. Even as he peddled himself backward he didn’t get any further from the demonic ram that had his deadened, evil sight on the scared shitless Gerald.
“..Just like this year, I suppose!” The ram’s warm chuckles soon turned into wicked cackles. “So full of life and vigor! I say, you’re going to be a tasty little snack, sugar!”
Gerald screamed hysterically when he felt the wheat stalks become fleshy tentacles that lifted him into the air. He turned his head around only to see the field of wheat and corn now extend infinitely into the distance. The farm house that was there only seconds ago appeared to never have been there in the first place. The stars in the sky faded, and the redness of it revealed to be bioluminescent flesh and fat.
And it was then that Gerald realized what bothered him so much. Despite being out in the field, not a single stalk of wheat swayed the way it should. There was no wind in the air, yet the field scuttered and writhed, as if it was a poorly generated video clip by artificial intelligence who did not understand how wind interacted with the physical world.
“NO! NO! NO! PLEASE DON’T HURT ME! I’M SORRY, I’M SORRY! PLEASE DON’T HURT ME!” The tiger shark cried.
“Now why’d you go on thinking I’d do something like that?” The ram said with amusement. “There’s no value in the dead, sugar.”
That, however, did not give Gerald even the slightest bit of relief. The wheat stalk tentacles became twisted flesh of muscle and bark and bound him by his waist; smaller tendrils circled his wrist and ankles and pulled him until his whole body was taut. Lifted into the air, not far from the ground, but high enough that it would give him a moment’s hesitation if he jumped from the height. He felt his weight fall behind him as his legs were lifted higher still, until the writhing flesh transformed once more into the branch of a dead tree, and he was bound on it with no hope to escape.
“No, no, no! What are you going to do to me?!” He asked. He let out a shriek when he saw the ram’s skeletal head pop up next to his face. “No! No! Wait! Please! Please let me go! I won’t hurt Zeke! I’ll leave town! I’ll leave immediately! I’ll never come back! Please believe me! I’ll do anything! I’ll give you all my money!”
“You’re terribly cute when you’re afraid, sugar.” The ram grinned with his teeth exposed. The way his skull bent was all wrong. Bone should not move like that. It was as if something wore the ram’s physical form as a skin, and did not know how to control it. “Promise I won’t hurt ya. That delicious voice, though, and all of your fear. Give it up. Sing for me!”
At the sound of his voice, the tiger shark’s loafers were yanked off his feet; and the next to go were his sheer socks that matched the color of his suit, which met their fate when it tore and turned into ash that blew away with the unnaturally calm, stagnant air.
From the edge of the branch grew heads of wheat, but upon closer inspection each of them waggled like insects. A swarm of golden insects that scurried over the branch-wood onto the tiger shark’s soles. The swarm that invited themselves over the tender, creamy soles that Gerald had always been too embarrassed to reveal to anyone else. He saw their ticklishness as a weakness and hid them in those sheer socks at all times, and that only contributed to how soft and sensitive they grew to be over the years.
The many spikes at the head of these wheat were like antennas or legs, and the grains the teeth and fingernails. Each one seemed to be sentient and completely aware of their duty as they took to the tiger shark’s helpless arch where they scraped and scratched the helplessly bound soles.
“No! Oh no! Oh noh-hoh hoh hoh hoh hohhh!!” Gerald couldn’t help the giggles that surfaced from the depths of his chest. It took almost no time for him to abandon the fear of the supernatural hellscape and the face of the demonic ram, and in their stead embrace the overwhelming tickle panic that set in. “No! Please not my feet! Not my feet! I’m too ticklish! Please, I'm begging you! Not my feet! Not my fee-hee-eet!”
“Keep begging, sugar. Ah, I love the sound of that!” The ram was charmed by how the tiger shark’s entitlement and pizazz all bubbled away to reveal the vulnerable self he had hidden, like armor that fractured and fell away. Jeb licked his blood-soaked tongue against where the lips would have gone on his skull-bone face. He soaked in the desperate sound of the tiger shark’s extracted laughter, as each breath Gerald exhaled also carried with it the vigor and flavor of life itself. “I reckon you got plenty in you. Give it all to me!”
From the branch grew more of the ram’s unholy crops. Two ears of corn peeled back its husk and revealed its tiny chompers by the tiger shark’s armpits. Gerald threw his body weight around, but it was useless against the mighty orchid that had him tangled up. The teeth began to nibble against his exposed pits and the sickly green husk leaves acted as tongue that lapped against his fish-tender skin. The corn hair, like impossibly long fingers, scratched against the rapidly reddening armpits that drove the tiger shark mad. Gerald howled with laughter. He couldn’t tell what was worse – the tickling on his feet or the tickling against his pits. As much as he tried to pull his arms and legs towards his torso the tree that kept him captive was sturdier than even steel.
“NOOHH!! NOOH NOOH NOOH HOH HOH HOHH HOHH HOHH HOHH HOHH!!” Tears streamed quickly from his eyes as the tiger shark was thrown into disarray. Drool and snot messed up his perfectly handsome face – or at least, perfectly handsome when he kept his mouth shut. The only part of his body that was still under his control was his jaw, which flapped involuntarily as the laughter was methodically extracted out of him with increasingly intense tickling.
Which, of course, was exactly what Jebediah Brown wanted.
Grape vines crept up and around the tiger shark’s legs, and though there were poisonous thorns they only acted as a mild irritant to Gerald’s skin. It was the vine that was the real problem – as they coiled around those powerless legs like venomous serpents, the secretions they painted Gerald’s legs made him itch. First, each leg was individually wrapped as the tiger shark’s lower body was slowly mummified; soon both legs were completely encased in the plant matter. Cold. Warm. Squirmy. The vines birthed gushy fruits that splattered the tiger shark’s legs in its juices, which only exacerbated the itching sensation on Gerald’s inner thighs, behind his knees, and the small area between his taint and his balls.
Gerald grimaced his face and whined between the giggles. He so desperately wanted to give himself a good scratch, but nevermind his hands – he couldn’t even clench his muscles to give himself any sort of relief from furious itching. Worse than being stung by mosquitos. Worse than that one time when he had been pranked with itching powder. It was as if the vines knew exactly what made him tick, and the secretions inflicted upon him the most maddening itch that he could bear without losing his mind.
Then, there was his exposed tummy.
That was a special spot that the ram ram his skeletal fingers across with great pleasure. Even a single touch was enough to force the tiger shark into a gasp and exhale before he blurbed out another flood of laughter from his chest. Cute. Sensitive. But not as much as his feet.
Oh yes, those pretty, pretty feet.
It was diabolical how sensitive they were born to be, and they would soon become Jeb’s new favorite things.
Jeb loved the way the tiger shark’s toes wiggled, but there was also something about the way toes held taut, completely immobilized, unable to wiggle while the poor soul they’re attached to screamed their brain into pudding. The ram wanted both, all at the same time. A thought passed in that skull, and it was realized.
The spikes on the wheat bugs became claws, and though sharp they did not pierce the tiger shark’s skin as they further entangled themselves on and between each of Gerald’s toes on his right foot. The wheat stalks wormed their way over the base of Gerald’s toes as the spikes pulled the side of it back, until the tiger shark’s right foot was hyper flexed and completely immobile. His left foot was still free, as free as could be, and those toes there enjoyed the freedom to wiggle and dance to the ram’s delight.
“That’s right, sugar, don’t stop. Don’t ever stop dancin’ and singin’ for me!”
He pressed his skull against the flexed right foot and ran his forked tongue between Gerald’s toes, which tasted like paradise to the ruler of this tickle hell. The ram moaned, which sounded more like the death throes of terminality than one of sexual excitement; but nonetheless he absorbed the life essences of the tiger shark through the contact and gulped the salty flavor of the tiger shark’s foot sweat down into his rotten and miserable throat.
He slipped his hand over the other foot, and forced his bony fingers between each of the desperately wiggly toes. Both of them clenched their digits at the same time – Gerald in a futile resistance to deny the ram access, and the ram’s much more successful act to press the tiger shark’s sole against his own skeletal palm. The bone raked cruelly against Gerald’s sensitive feet and the tiger shark howled once again, his feet shook and trembled as the ram took advantage of the insane ticklishness within his grasp.
There was the ram’s teeth, which nibbled on the helplessly taut sole; and his tongue that brushed and licked over each of those trapped toes. The wheat flickered and glazed the unattended tops, and similar to the vines even the stalks that bound the base of the tiger shark’s toes began to evolve and grow thorns that prickled and tormented him with a steady infusion of sweet smelling sap that cursed each of those digits with an itch that could never be scratched. Diabolical, indeed – for the area that they inflicted the itchy agony was hidden by the stalk itself, and that fact soon settled in the depths of the tiger shark’s mind as his screams became unhinged and deranged.
The ram continued his mid-autumn feast of the tiger shark’s soles while Gerald slipped several words from his mouth. Something about his toes. Something about the itch. Something that sounded like begging. Most of it, however, was the delightful sound of a sinner losing his fucking mind through the forceful reaping of laughter, all of it as delicious as the toes that the ram’s tongue could not afford to abandon.
In that space, there was no sun, no moon, and no stars. Hours passed while the ram indulged and gorged himself on the soles that were once creamy, but now red and bright as the cursed flesh soil itself. His tongue made familiar every last crease and wrinkle that the unbound foot had to offer, and to ticklishly abuse the toes that mobility had been robbed from. His bony fingers had the honor of sensual caresses and gropes against Gerald’s helpless feet as each tongue was a new torment that the tiger shark could not get used to. Every touch elicited another moan or laughter. It was one or the two – and even the ram could not predict which one would come from between the tiger shark’s soft lips.
It was much later – much, much later that Jebediah Brown even felt a smidge of satisfaction. Enough only for a pause. How long has it been? Days? Weeks? All he knew was that Samhain had not yet passed. It could not have been long. It was a good feast – and one that he could continue to devour for eons to come.
He stopped to take in a breath of the abyssal air. Foul and tainted, but filled with the scent of the tiger shark’s ticklish demise. The ram’s skull smiled. Satisfied? Yes, but not nearly enough.
Yet, if he were to keep the tiger shark as a source of his sustenance, he must perform the ritual. After all, mortals are such fragile things that would break if one such as he played with them too hard, like cheap toys from overseas factories with little regulations. The magic of his realm can only preserve them for so long before a permanent solution has to be implemented.
The scenery flashed, and this time, they were much closer to the farm house. It was the sound of dirt being shoveled that snapped the tiger shark out of his daze.
Try as he may, all that intensive laughing had cost him his voice. Temporarily, at least, he could not speak, nor form words, nor make demands to be released. Gerald looked to the sound of the noise and once more panic set in when he saw the ram digging a fresh hole next to a cemetery. He knew in his heart that the spot was meant for him.
Death would be, perhaps, the most merciful thing that could be offered to him – but he also understood that it was not so; for he could see clearly all the other plots, each one marked with a headstone, were feet that protruded from the grounds. Each pair looked different in size and shape and color of fur, but all of them suffered from an eternal ticklish fate of their own. From the ground were plants of various genuses as diverse as the feet they tormented.
“Hope y’all ready for your new home here in the countryside!” The ram said teasingly, as he threw out the last shovel full of dirt. The tiger shark screamed once more as the tree that held him captive warped and transformed into a coffin – and as he expected, while his entire body was bound and stuffed into the box, his feet were left isolated on the exterior. He was still stuck in the same pose, and now his body was pressed stiff inside.
When the box was fully closed, and he was drowned in complete darkness, Gerald felt himself lowered into the ground, head first. He felt the small reverberations when dirt was thrown against the cursed, wooden box; the sound of which became more and more muffled as he was buried alive. He felt the ram pat down the ground to secure him there. He felt the flesh-earth enclose around his ankles – and then he was trapped, forever.
And then, two seconds later, he felt the same torturous wheat-things crawl all over his helplessly immobile sole, and squirm between the wiggling toes of his other foot.
Gerald found his voice returned, his vigor renewed, and his consciousness firm as stone. Laughter spilled from his mouth, but he was the only audience of it now.
He felt tongue and teeth rake rampantly across his feet.
He felt his toes suckled on. He felt the delirium set in as his mind hazed over just enough to stop thinking, as if he was forced to focus on the ticklish sensations that flooded his brain.
A loud thud. Something heavy was placed somewhere close by. That must be his headstone.
One by one, his trapped toes began to spread as the prickly weed and vines coiled and dug between the incredibly sensitive area between those digits. Gerald screamed. He begged. None would hear him again.
The ram sat on the old, crickety rocking chair on the front porch of his rustic farmhouse. His skeletal form became the gentle giant once again. He reached his hand out in a plucking motion as he pulled a pair of feet into his grasp, from thin air they appeared. He took it to his nose and pressed them against his nostrils, where he took a deep whiff of them.
“Mmm! Aged like fine wine, you did!” The ram let his tongue slip from between his lips, and took a long lick from the heels to the tip of those toes. There was a spasm from the sudden stimulation, but soon it receded and the toes obediently spread wide open for the ram to take advantage of. “Such a good boy you are, sugar. Nothing like a couple hundred years of tickling to bring out the deep flavors of hopelessness!”
Whoever those soles belonged to, they learned.
The toes wiggled for the ram. They spread for the ram. The arches flexed and curved for the ram. Seduced him. Begged him for his attention. That pair of feet understood – that every minute they were tasted and licked by the ram, it was one minute less of the tickling they would suffer in that endless tickle hell. Being worshipped and tasted was infinitely better than the torment by Jebediah’s autonomous demonic crops.
That was a lesson in humility that Gerald, too, will learn.. In a couple hundred years. Maybe more. The tiger shark wasn’t very bright, after all.
=The end=
