WARNING: The picture itself has nothing inherently offensive, but has mature subjects and materials mentioned in it. If you went on FA expecting everything to be SFW, turn away.

ADDENDUM: Sully is intended to be portrayed as twenty years of age.

Day 1, Entry 4
1:30 PM-4:00 PM

Another one of our most successful endeavors yet, and all of it in a single day!

Anybody who had one or more brain cells swirling around in their cranium would have realized that the a great method to use on Sully was more foot tickling. Based on the demolition it dealt in an hour and a half long session, the potential for what it could do in an extra hour in length was limitless.

Sully was once again dragged to a new bondage setup, but for the first time, he didn't appear to have the same fight in him that he had beforehand. My theory was that the edging REALLY got in his head. The amount of power that was exerted over him with nothing but a small feather and a mere paintbrush had to be quite humiliating. Alas, it wasn't ever going to end for Sully.

He was walked down the hall, for the first time, completely naked, as he was to remain for the duration of his captivity. I couldn't help but smile at the little patting noises that Sully's bare feet made against our marble floors. When we reached the destination, Sully appeared to be as nervous as a lapdog was about new things walking in front of the house. One look at the straitjacket sleeves and the bondage sack that extended below it, alongside a hole at the bottom for his feet, and it was apparent to Sully that he could expect some serious pedal abuse.

Shoving a pet into a bondage sack is difficult, but with teamwork, Sully fit in nice and snug. We secured the straps and zipper and tied each of his toes back with string that was strong enough to hold, but too weak to cut off circulation. The only color we want Sully's toes to be is that adorable shade of pink!

Sully looked quite intimidated as each little piggy was carefully lassoed into place. His soles became taut and completely at the mercy of his captors. I saw him gulp when everybody was distributing tools around. It was decided we would gradually add tools instead of bombarding them onto Sully all at once. I myself giddily picked up a little comb-brush, after Rosanne took dibs on the big scrubbing brush, and Amie on the pinwheel.

The team triple-checked to make sure that Sully was well-tightened up. The straps were tightened, untied, and then tightened again to make extra-sure that Sully couldn't move a muscle. We even had a strap for his head. When I say we weren't going to let him move a muscle, I MEAN it. Only the muscles used for laughing were allowed. Ali adorably added a little "Sully" label onto the straitjacket, which was presumably added in a loving manner a month or two before his capture.

I found myself trying to concoct ways to stand out over Amie and Rosanne's genius tormenting methods. I figured that it wouldn't hurt to walk over to him and tease him. I got all in his face and made sure I spanned my widest evil grin. I've been told that my evil grin is truly something straight out of the comic books. Sully looked quite unsettled when I tossed him my smirk, something I relished in as I proceeded to taunt him. I would tell him: "What you have been through so far will be a complete joke after this, Sully-boy." Oooh, I love that nickname! Sully-boy; I want to make that catch on!

I tried to make everybody hear my teasing, and see if they would notice either that or Sully's intimidated facial expression, but they appeared to be more focused on Sully's feet. At the extent of time that had passed during the day, an additional one of was also taking some additional measurements to check Sully's health. Nicole's insane medical knowledge and the facility's even more insane scanning technology could pick up readings of Sully's body and analyze them for any abnormalities within a matter of two minutes.

The wait was a killer, but I imagine that it was harder on Sully than on me. Not knowing when one or any of those tools would assault those taut, vulnerable soles must have driven him bonkers! Nicole confirmed that Sully was in prime condition for tickle torture, and that was when Sully was taken by surprise by a flick of Amie's fingers. With the element of surprise came a guaranteed giggle out of Sully, the thing not even being given a chance to hold in his laughter.

Amie paused, and Sully simply gasped, probably knowing he would need to take advantage of every rest he got. The pause only persisted for a mere two seconds before being followed up with a speedy scribble of fingernails on each of his arches. Sully squealed in girly laughter, infatuating everybody in the room with his tragically adorable suffering. We could also see his feet trying their absolute best to struggle away from every pokey fingernail. It was the most pointless battle he had ever engaged in yet.

"Can't get away from me," Amie would tease, before bringing those nails up to his bound toes.

Of course, by instinct, Sully continued trying to free his feet anyway. Even freeing his pinkie toe would have probably made him happy. None of that would be had, however, and Amie figured she would take a brief moment to graduate from her fingernails to the use of her tool. The pinwheel is a tool that has to be used carefully, as its method of inducing sensations is that of rapidly poking the skin with the eye of a needle. The only pain any of us wanted Sully to be in was the intensity of his lungs burning.

Thus, Amie further proved her worth as a tickler when she made Sully howl with nothing but pure laughter. Each stroke with the pinwheel was precise and quick, and would swish up and down the sweet spots that completely dotted the boy's arches. The room had never been full with so much audible laughter before, with Sully totally freaking out at the merciless assault of prods that the wheel bombarded him with. They tased his soles with the tiniest of successive jolts, completely turning his session to an intense experience at the get-go.

Still, there was importance in being conservative with the pinwheel. Hence, Amie still primarily utilized her devilish fingers, letting them soar up, down, and around his feet. After making meandering trips around his heels and balls, a speedy swoosh into the arches elicited chaotic fits of hysteria. Every once in a while, the nails would dive in and assault Sully's tied-up toes, too. He was so ticklish, it didn't matter what methods Amie used. Regardless, she used the methods anyway, and in doing so, set the bar incredibly high for the rest of us.

Fifteen minutes in, Amie alone had already totally devastated Sully, turning him into a giggly puddle of ticklishness under her nails. His laughter was losing some of its shriek and energy, a delicious sign that Sully was being pushed to his limit before getting close to the halfway point. Of course, it was only obligatory to give him a drink of water and a minute-long breather. It was a letdown to stop, but Sully escaping by passing out wasn't on the agenda.

After his rest, Sully now had to deal with Rosanne throwing her hat in the ring. Or, should I say, she threw her brush into the ring. It was quite a large and intense tool to apply to Sully with from the get-go, but Rosanne knew best. She started by lightly grazing the bristles against his foot; completely avoiding doing any actual scrubbing. Yet.

Sully chirped like a helpless canary, clearly horrified at how quickly his break had ended. Rosanne allowed the bristles to devilishly graze Sully's right sole. The surface area the brush covered relative to the size of Sully's feet was delectably large. As a result, Sully visibly winced at the feeling of every bristle trailing around his sole. His laughter quickly went sporadic as the speed of the brush ever-so-gradually picked up the pace. The feeling of tickling being simultaneously applied to a spot such as his arch and a nearby region such as the ball was getting to clearly getting to Sully, whose laughter was beginning to rise with every naughty swipe of the scrubbing brush. Rosanne made sure some of the bristles reached Sully's toes, which made him squeal in despair every time his digits were targeted. I think his toes are just adorable, like plump little tickle beacons just calling me by name. Begging me to mercilessly attack them whenever I could get the chance.

Regardless, I knew exactly what I would do with my tool. As Rosanne took the time to slather some baby oil onto Sully's sole, Amie swooped back in on Sully's left foot. The baby oil on Rosanne's end was particularly important. The oil not only increased Sully's sensitivity, but reduced the friction that the brush's bristles would create as they scrubbed against his skin. It was Tickling 101; basic knowledge with a brush in play. With Tickling 101 in mind, though, I found myself amazed that both the pinwheel and the brush were being applied so early. It always made sense to me to start small and then build up to an ultimate torture that would feel as though it would never end.

Here, we appeared to be starting intensely and simply keeping it that way for the duration of Sully's session. I think collectively, we all knew that it wasn't the best way to overwhelm our prisoner, but the fun that came with diving right in was the ultimate temptation.

Brush, pinwheel, and fingernails all poked and prodded at Sully's completely vulnerable feet, never letting up for a second. We watched as Amie flawlessly alternated from her electrifying pinwheel strokes to her tickly fingernail scribbles. She liked to make sure she was consistently targeting Sully's arches, every merciless poke of her nails and the wheel raising the laughter decibel by decibel. Rosanne slowly, but surely, picked up speed, and accelerated the brush into all-out scrubbing mode. For each foot, a different type of intense was being applied. Quick and pokey on the right, and brute-force scrubbing on the left.

At this point, only recordings could justify just how wonderful Sully's laughter was. His hysteria was almost immeasurable; his eyes completely wide-open and teary. His big cheeks showed a quickly-forming blush that came with every additional howling laugh. His struggle for breath was becoming more evident as the laughter persisted. It was so deliciously obvious how much he wanted it all to end. He wanted to close his eyes, disappear, and head back home into his bed. Free of the tickling, the edging, the struggle for breath- but reality was simply not on his side.

Poor Sully hadn't said anything; he had merely focused on laughing his lungs out. Perhaps it was his last form of resistance: to not give us the satisfaction of his begging. Or perhaps he wanted to conserve as much energy as he could; the gods knew he needed it. No matter how much he could hypothetically try to resist, there was little that he could actually do.

Eventually, another colleague of mine and myself got to use our tools. Alongside the brush, the baby oil, and the pinwheel, an electric toothbrush and my comb were added into the mix. The electric toothbrush buzzed at his toes, whirring slowly and methodically from the bigger toes to the smaller toes. I myself was hellbent on the little things, and struck the pads of them with the teeth of my comb. By now, Sully was howling with laughter, tears pouring down his face as if it were a teapot. His lips wobbled as his mouth continued contorting into a constant display of hysteria.

Each time we thought he was close to choking on his own breath, we made sure to give him an according amount of rest time. As it turns out, however, tickling, no matter how intense it feels, takes very little time to recover from.

Thus, the torment continued, with me always jumping in as fast as I could to reserve all of the toes on one of Sully's feet. I wanted to be sure that Sully felt my comb sawing between his fourth and pinkie toes before the whirring toothbrush, scrubbing brush, and pokey pinwheel resumed their efforts. Every little bit counted, and at this point, I was extremely excited. My whole world fixated itself on harvesting laughter from Sully. No matter how much he squealed or squirmed, there was no possible way to come close to escaping our assault!

I didn't have a great track of the time when the special moment occurred, but I believe it was an hour in when Sully completely broke down. His hair messy and ruffled, along with his body dripping a considerable amount of sweat, he finally screamed for mercy.

It was the first time he had spoken at all that session. After nothing but laughter, laughter, and more laughter, Sully completely sang a song that asked for mercy. All of his vocabulary consisted of begging. I almost wanted to run to my dorm to get my vibrator just after hearing him scream, "Somebody help me!!"

I was quick to respond with a belittling tease, tenderly cooing, "You poor, broken boy..."

"I think we got him, girls!" I recall Amie happily announcing.

One step closer to completely breaking Sully called for celebration for the entire team. And what better way to celebrate tickling Sully than by tickling him even longer?! By the point that Sully had been reduced to nothing but desperate begging, he still had quite a substantial amount of time left in his session. More than an hour, at least.

The rest of the team eventually got their turns to assault Sully's feet with tools both old and new. Constant care was taken to check up on his stamina; to make sure he wouldn't faint on us. The pauses were always annoying, but well worth the boost in energy to keep the session going on as long as possible.

At one point, although it was no longer my turn to be attacking Sully's feet, I walked up to him and whispered in his ear,

"I can try convincing them to let you go, you know... as long as you cooperate with us later..."

I had no way of knowing if my little tease was getting into him, but I would imagine that when the only thing to focus on was the tickling, there would be enough brainpower left to hear a little proposal such as the one I left for him.

"Think about it- if we let you go now, we'd be in biiiig trouble. It'd be so much easier to just keep you here forever," I'd go on. "But if you filled out a few things for us and gave us some audio proof that you consented, I bet I could get the girls to let you go."

I did genuinely wonder if Sully could hear me, at the time. Maybe he was just too absorbed in his struggle for breath to catch all of it. I imagine the words "let you go" would stand out, at least. This little tease wasn't exactly my idea, though. We all had talked about it earlier, and I just happened to be the one who was told to execute it. I'm almost disappointed in that regard, but I know that if I push myself to come up with sinister teases like that, it could benefit my position as a top member of the team. And no, we definitely had no intentions on letting Sully go.

By the time the two hour mark had hit, Sully was a total mess. Tens upon dozens of minutes of tickling had been taking their toll. The boy's laughter was beginning to die down, and his struggling had totally ceased. The only energy he had was for laughing and the occasional beg or whimper.

"Nohohoho...," you would hear him cough out.

His feet were an intense shade of pink, the picture of several minutes worth of pedal stimulation. There was no doubt that Sully was in absolute tickle hell at that moment. As cruel and heartless of me as it was, I felt nothing but raw lust and excitement. This was it. Our pet, laughing to near unconsciousness, just as we had always pictured it. There was no doubt in my, or probably anybody's minds that Sully was the right pick as victim.

As I had told Sully, what he had experienced before that session was nothing. A complete joke. And when we announced that he only had a half-hour left to go, his horrified reaction completely validated the statement.

Aha, by far my favorite one of these... I think. It's pretty close but I find this one to be the cutest. He's been broken, and sulks back in laughter as those little feet poking out of the sack are mercilessly tickled. What isn't cute about that?

I have noticed Sully can be easily mistaken as a shota, maybe even mistaken for intentionally being a shota, but I swear that he's twenty, and it's too late for me to change any proportions. Hopefully the story is at least sufficient. Our little scientist "protagonist" is getting a little too attached if you ask me...