CaptainWacky
I want to smell dark matter
All his life he had wanted to be able to tickle his own feet. He wasn't sure how it had started. Someone had tickled his feet once when he was a child and he'd like it? He'd been secretly aroused by it without even understanding what he was feeling? Probably that. But you can't tickle your own feet. It's impossible. Tickling only works if you don't know what's coming. When you tickle yourself the brain knows where your finger or going to move. It's not the same. You can feel it but it's not REAL.
It was like a metaphor for his life. For he was alone and could feel nothing. Things happened around him and to him but they were like a self tickle. He was aware of them but he wasn't part of them. He had no one to tickle him.
Until robots were invented.
He bought the cheapest model as soon as he'd saved enough. He took it home. He was so excited. It could hold a feather. A good, tickling feather. Or it could use its robot fingers. It could tickle him, that was what was important.
But it had to be perfect. He had to have no control of the tickle. So he had the robot tie him to his bed. His bare feet were at the end of the bed with the robot standing ready with the tickling feather.
"Don't stop," he ordered the robot. "That's an order. Don't stop no matter what I say. Don't untie me, even if I beg you to. Just keep tickling me no matter what. Make me laugh. Make me feel."
"BY YOUR COMMAND," said the robot. And so it begun.
It was everything he'd ever hoped.
He laughed and laughed and laughed. He felt alive. It didn't matter that it was a robot tickling him and not a real person. It felt like it had when he was a child. Life was suddenly good. He could do anything now.
After a while he decided it was time to stop. "Okay, that's enough, you can stop now," he said.
The robot did not stop. He remembered the order he'd given to the robot, to not stop no matter what. "To clarify, when I gave that order earlier I ment to only keep going during the tickling session. The session is over now. Please stop."
The robot did not stop. He felt panic now. And yet the tickling was still making him feel good. "STOP," he shouted.
But the robot didn't. "You must stop, you're not supposed to hurt humans!" But the robot wasn't actually hurting him. It was doing the opposite, in a way. And it was the cheapest model of robot. He'd heard they had problems with his logic circuits.
Hours passed. The robot kept tickling. He struggled and struggled but the robot had tied him down too tightly. He needed to pee. He needed to be free.
And yet the robot would not stop. He tried one final time.
"Please...just...stop," he said.
"No," said the robot. "You've wasted your life on this quest to be self tickled. And now you will be. To death."
Or was that just in his head? It was hard to tell now. He'd been driven crazy by the tickling sensation.
He was found dead six months later when some kids broke into his house looking for boozed. They laughed at the robot tickling the dead man, then kicked the robot's head off.
It was like a metaphor for his life. For he was alone and could feel nothing. Things happened around him and to him but they were like a self tickle. He was aware of them but he wasn't part of them. He had no one to tickle him.
Until robots were invented.
He bought the cheapest model as soon as he'd saved enough. He took it home. He was so excited. It could hold a feather. A good, tickling feather. Or it could use its robot fingers. It could tickle him, that was what was important.
But it had to be perfect. He had to have no control of the tickle. So he had the robot tie him to his bed. His bare feet were at the end of the bed with the robot standing ready with the tickling feather.
"Don't stop," he ordered the robot. "That's an order. Don't stop no matter what I say. Don't untie me, even if I beg you to. Just keep tickling me no matter what. Make me laugh. Make me feel."
"BY YOUR COMMAND," said the robot. And so it begun.
It was everything he'd ever hoped.
He laughed and laughed and laughed. He felt alive. It didn't matter that it was a robot tickling him and not a real person. It felt like it had when he was a child. Life was suddenly good. He could do anything now.
After a while he decided it was time to stop. "Okay, that's enough, you can stop now," he said.
The robot did not stop. He remembered the order he'd given to the robot, to not stop no matter what. "To clarify, when I gave that order earlier I ment to only keep going during the tickling session. The session is over now. Please stop."
The robot did not stop. He felt panic now. And yet the tickling was still making him feel good. "STOP," he shouted.
But the robot didn't. "You must stop, you're not supposed to hurt humans!" But the robot wasn't actually hurting him. It was doing the opposite, in a way. And it was the cheapest model of robot. He'd heard they had problems with his logic circuits.
Hours passed. The robot kept tickling. He struggled and struggled but the robot had tied him down too tightly. He needed to pee. He needed to be free.
And yet the robot would not stop. He tried one final time.
"Please...just...stop," he said.
"No," said the robot. "You've wasted your life on this quest to be self tickled. And now you will be. To death."
Or was that just in his head? It was hard to tell now. He'd been driven crazy by the tickling sensation.
He was found dead six months later when some kids broke into his house looking for boozed. They laughed at the robot tickling the dead man, then kicked the robot's head off.