Prisoner RM

Even on a well-run and orderly planet, there will be criminals. Even if those criminals make up only a tiny percentage of the population, their absolute numbers will be large, for a long-settled and established planet will have a huge population.

The planet of Iowa, being one of the Steel Worlds, definitely counts as long-settled and orderly. It keeps its bioform male criminals (both human and humanoid) confined in a number of prisons scattered over the face of the world, with each prison divided into two or three dozen cellblocks. Some of those cellblocks hold prisoners deemed more likely to reform, while others hold those considered refractory.

In the Gall-Rat Prison, Cellblock 35 held just under a refractory hundred prisoners. Some were especially refractory first-timers, more were repeaters. A disproportionately large number were lifers, and four were on the cellblock’s Pet Row.

Prisoners on Pet Row were the rarest and worst of criminals, repeat offenders who had received a sentence of life plus the special attention of one of the AI aristocrats who ruled Iowa. And Prisoner RM was one of those four Pet Row prisoners of Cellblock 35, Gall-Rat Prison.

Roger Melendez, Prisoner RM, convict ID GC-368-9630, was a human with blond hair, blue eyes, brown skin, and a muscular build that Lady Sevenamp let him keep. He also kept a mean face, preventing him from ever becoming handsome.

RM liked keeping his strength up. He liked breaking things. He liked hurting and breaking people, but the con-bands he wore prevented that now. He had especially liked breaking slave women – human, green celtan, blue azurite, brain-tailed lekkain, or feline narnow, it didn’t matter which species. As all bioform women on Iowa are slave women, he’d had a wide field for indulging in his liking. Until he got caught.

Caught, and condemned here to Pet Row. It was their fault anyway. He was too badass for any slave woman. They had whined about his badassery – the ones that could still talk, anyway – and now he wasn’t even allowed to see images of them. Seeing them made him mad. The machine-screws called it a frenzy, but it was just his badass anger showing.

He did get to see the fembot avatars of Lady Sevenamp, though. Sometimes he could imagine them serving him. Pleasing him, and worshiping his badassery. Right now that was hard to do. In a few minutes he would see them again. They would remove his coverall, they would lock him in place in the Chamber, and then they would tickle him. That was the special attention Lady Sevenamp gave her Pet Row convicts.

RM didn’t mind the tickle sessions. He didn’t even mind the mod Lady Sevenamp had given him. It made him more badass than ever, to not experience tickling as a torture. What he minded wasn’t the tickle sessions themselves, but the hangover that came afterwards.

A light flashed, a chime sounded, and the door to RM’s cell opened. He felt the silvery con-bands on his wrists and ankles lock, rendering him helpless. He saw the ‘Rega’ avatar of Lady Sevenamp enter. He smiled at her, his best badass smile. He was looking forward to this tickle session to come, if not to the hangover afterwards.

“Come along now,” Rega said as she attached a grav-clamp, and the even more helpless RM floated out of his cell and down the corridor, towed by the Rega fembot.

RM spoke badass words. He was looking forward to his session, but it wouldn’t be badass to seem too eager. He told himself that he was badass enough to have taken any tickle torture without being modded. It was nice though, not to have to waste his badassery on that.

Rega ignored his words. RM kept them under his breath, soft enough to be ignored. If he spoke aloud, the con-band around his neck – his pet collar – would choke his words off with its high tech wizardry. He was, of course, badass enough withstand that humiliation – but it would be a humiliation.

The Chamber was only a short distance from RM’s cell. In it waited, three more fembot avatars of Lady Sevenamp: Maya, Okee, and Steph. So. This was going to be a full-body session.

“Good morning, ladies,” RM said with a grin. (He wasn’t aware of just how ugly that grin was.)

“Good morning, RM,” the four fembots chorused, as RM felt his con-bands release him. “Now strip, please.”

RM stripped off his coverall, standing – for the moment – in his bare feet and briefs. Today it felt more badass for him to comply, and then to fling the coverall contemptuously to the side. Other times it felt more badass to refuse, so as to make the fembots strip him by force. But not today.

The flung overall was caught grav beam and neatly folded. More grav beams seized RM’s con-bands to hold him helpless again, this time with arms and legs outstretched. He was rotated to face upward, and he felt his weight reduced to a fraction of its normal value. As usual, they’d put him in a lower-grav bubble for this session.

It left ninety percent of his human-brown skin exposed to the tickle – and here the tickle came.

One pair of fembot hands tickled RM’s right foot – the top of the foot as well as the sole, but especially the sole. A second pair tickled his left foot, likewise. Four more hands took in his sides and torso, under his stretched-out arms, and across his chest and belly. All four pairs of hands knew how to tickle, and how to tickle well. They left RM helpless with laughter, squirming and unable to escape the pleasing, teasing touch. Not that he actually wanted to escape, but the tickling forced him to try, just as it forced him to laugh.

RM felt the Rega’s quasi-metallic fingers rake his right sole and then pause. Maya’s fingers raked his left sole matching that tickle. Okee’s hands ran lightly down his left side before returning to his armpit to do so again. Steph ran her fingers up his right side, from just above his hip to his armpit. And RM felt occasional tickle attacks on his belly, and underneath, down his spine. It tickled, and he could not resist enjoying it.

“Tickle tickle tickle tickle!” the four fembots chorused.

“Hahaha heeehee hahaha!” RM answered. “But heehee hahahahaha ha!”

The soft raking of RM’s soles continued. The spider-dance on his sides and belly continued. The tickle-trace down his spine continued. RM felt the touch and tempo varying slightly, just enough to keep him helplessly aware. Aware that he was being tickled. He couldn’t hold still for it. And it felt great.

Now the four fembots eased up. RM knew that they were letting him catch his breath. They were easing up to let him do so, but they weren’t stopping. He still felt the four pairs of hands on his arms and legs and torso, petting him now. Touching without tickling him, or at least without tickling very much. He felt his tickle-sensitivity recovering, and he knew that the four fembots knew it. That Lady Sevenamp knew it, and was letting it happen.

“We are not done yet, with today’s treatment,” the fembots chorused. “In fact, we have only just started.”

“Yes, my lady,” RM answered.

His respectful reply was part of the mod, a subtle price Lady Sevenamp had extracted for making RM immune to tickle-torture. RM could reply in a rude and badass way if he choose to – but he did have to deliberate choose to. His unthinking responses to the Lady and her avatars were now the polite and respectful ones.

“Let us continue, then,” the fembots said. And they did.

Okee and Steph continued to pet RM’s upper body with their gentle not-quite-tickle. Rega and Maya applied a more vigorous treatment to his feet. Rega’s fembot fingers danced and raked his bare right sole, while Maya’s fingers did the same to his left. They both alternated their attacks and tickled simultaneously, and this treatment did even more than their earlier foot-tickling.

“Tickle tickle tickle tickle!” the four fembots chorused.

“Haha haheeehee hahaheeha!” RM answered. “I heeheehee hahaha!”

The tickle sensations RM felt soaking into his feet were too strong to be sweet and happy ones. They were powerful and intense, and very good in an overwhelming sort of way. He felt his toes being teased along with his soles, and he knew that if it weren’t for Lady Sevenamp’s mod, it would have taken him every bit of his badassery to resist. But the Lady had modded him. He didn’t need to resist. He was immune to being tortured by any amount of tickling. This tickling could (and did) make him squirm and madly laugh. But it was the opposite of any sort of torment. It felt too good for that.

Once again RM pulled wildly against the con-bands holding him in place. He had to, even as the uselessness of his struggle relieved and excited him. It made him even more aware of his bare feet being tickled. Of how Lady Sevenamp and her fembots knew the most effective ways to tease his soles, and his toes, and the rest of his feet. They knew just where to tickle them. They knew just how to tickle them. And there was nothing he could do to escape those tickles.

RM kept squirming and struggling and laughing. He wanted to keep squirming and struggling and laughing. And the four fembots were doing just that – keeping him squirming and struggling and laughing, as they kept tickling and tickling and tickling him. Two of them were vigorously tickling his vulnerable feet. Two more were gently almost-tickling his vulnerable body, in a way that increased his overall ticklishness rather than distracting him from the treatment of his feet. And RM knew that this wasn’t the last part of today’s treatment.

For a second time RM felt his tickle-treatment ease. It didn’t end, however. He still felt the four pairs of fembot hands caressing his brown skin, keeping him aware of their presence while allowing him to catch his breath again. Giving him a respite. Nurturing his sensitivity for more tickling to come.

The respite ended.

“Tickle tickle tickle tickle!” the four fembots chorused.

RM giggled. The caress of his helpless body had turned into a soft and squirmy tickle. Into a giggle-tickle, rather than the roaring tickle that made him laugh and laugh and laugh. But it was still a tickle, and it didn’t stop.

It was a soft touch on his legs and arms. It spared his bare and helpless feet while wandering over his equally helpless torso: Belly, back and sides. But it was still a tickle, and it didn’t stop.

RM could feel each and every one of the shiny, quasi-metallic fingertips, lightly touching his bare brown skin. Reminding him that he was a mere bioform, even as their touch confirmed the affection that Lady Sevenamp held for him. But it was still a tickle, and it didn’t stop.

The fingers wandered lightly up and down, and back and forth. The soft touch amused him, right on the edge of being relaxing without crossing over. Every so often a giggle came out in response to their ministrations. Because it was still a tickle, and it didn’t stop.

RM shifted, floating in the bubble of reduced gravity, pinned in place by the con-bands he wore. But it was those four pairs of fembot hands that demanded his attention. Still they avoided his feet, while touching him everywhere else. Gently and lightly, and with inhuman patience and skill. It was still a tickle, and it didn’t stop.

They were Rega, Maya, Okee, and Steph, the four avatars of Lady Sevenamp. The four fembot ‘lers now giving her pet the affection she could afford to give, now that he was made captive and harmless. Their touch was pleasingly feminine, but it was still a tickle, and it didn’t stop.

RM giggled again. He heard Steph whisper into his ear. “Like this, do you?”

“Yes my lady,” came his automatic response. “Heeheehee!”

And it was true. He did like the attention Lady Sevenamp gave him through her four avatars. He knew it, and he knew that Lady Sevenamp knew it. He never bothered trying to lie to her any more. She was an AI Lady, and he was a convict on Pet Row, being given her attention. She could always tell when he lied.

Just as her tickling touch, given through her avatars, could always make him giggle and squirm. Or howl with laughter if she chose. And it wasn’t just his mod that allowed it. The four fembots had skill, and even now, while being soft and gentle, it still inflicted a squirmy, giggly tickle. And it didn’t stop…

“Tickle tickle tickle tickle!” the four fembots chorused.

RM’s attention snapped back into place. The gentle giggle-tickle had stopped. Those quasi-metallic hands were no longer touching his skin. They were being held up for him to see. He saw the wiggling fingers, poised to attack again. And then the tickling resumed.

It was a fast and vigorous tickle. It focused on his helpless feet, while giving his sides and belly a lighter counterpoint. That tickle could have made him howl, all by itself, but the tickle on his soles (and the rest of his bare feet) were demanding even more of his attention.

“Hee hahahaha!” RM said. “But hahaha hee hahaha! Yes haha hahahaha!”

He knew that he would come out of this session with a hangover. He could already sense it lurking. He could feel the badassery draining out of him, even as he laughed. This tickling felt good, too good. It felt so good as to make it hard to care about anything else. It felt so good that he couldn’t think of anything besides squirming and laughing, and the excitement of not being able to escape that tickling touch.

His feet were being tickled. His feet were being tickled. Rega kept tickling his right sole, and Maya kept tickling his left. Sometimes they switched in the middle of a session, but not this time. He could tell them apart by their touch, even if they all were avatars of Lady Sevenamp. He could tell them apart by the way they tickled. They were awesome in their tickle-skill, each in their own way. And it wasn’t just his soles that RM felt being tickled. It was the tops of his feet too. It was also his toes, and the spaces between them.

As a Pet Row convict, RM was denied footwear. As a result, his toes were no longer shoe-squashed. Normally he didn’t think about it, but now he was aware. He was being made aware. Those uncanny fembot hands were making him aware as they tickled his toes. And his soles. And everywhere else where his feet were ticklish. Which was everywhere, even now, after all the tickling he had already undergone.

The tickles ran over the tops of his feet. The tickles ran up and down his soles, and back and forth, and all around in curves and circles. The tickles ran under and over his toes, and all around them. And the tickles didn’t stop. The tickling didn’t stop. The tickling did not stop…

RM found himself standing again, without remembering how he had gotten there. His con-bands were unlocked now, so he could move again and put on the coverall he’d been handed.

Rega gave him a warning gesture, and RM felt his con-bands lock for the trip back to his cell.

He was hung over. He didn’t want to break anything. He didn’t want to hurt anyone. He knew his badassery would recover, but now it was gone, and he missed it. He felt happy and mellow in a way that would disgust him when his badassery returned, but a big part of the after-tickle hangover was not feeling that disgust.

Back in his cell, RM sat on his cot. This time, Lady Sevenamp had chosen to extend his hangover. This time her four fembot avatars had put four toe-rings on him, two on each foot. They held a high-tech wizardry that RM didn’t understand. He just knew that they were used mostly on slave women. And now on him, as a convict on Pet Row.

RM couldn’t remove those toe-rings. Only Lady Sevenamp could remove them. And every so often, he felt them apply a teasing buzz. Keeping him hung over. Keeping him tickled.

RM felt the teasing, tickling buzz on his toes. He giggled.

(end)