You make your way through the house, listening for the adorable giggling of your ticklish little cocoa-skinned ward for the evening. As you traverse from the living room into the dining room and kitchen area, you say in a low, growly voice, “I’m the Tickle Monster, and I’m coming to tickle little girls like Maria! Roar!”.
Sure enough, as soon as you say it, you make out a familiar, faint giggling coming from somewhere in the house.
You listen closer, but she’s already piped it shut. She could be upstairs, or in the garage, or maybe down in the basement, for all you could tell from her brief tittering.
“Olly-Olly! All come free! Come out, come out, wherever you are! Tell you what, Maria – if you give yourself up now, it won’t be as bad as if you try to keep hiding. You’ll never escape The Tickle Monster! Ha-Ha-Ha! Grrr!”, you growl at the quiet dwelling.
Listening, you make out your little brown tickling target again giggling, only this time, you distinctly hear her coming from the basement!
“ROAR! I’m going to find you, Maria!”, you say in the growling monster persona as you walk down into the basement rec-room area. You again hear Maria, giggling with glee. It’s coming from an old oaken wardrobe cabinet in the old sewing and laundry room that adjoins the rec room.
You creep up to the cabinet and fling it open, which causes pretty Maria to shriek, eyes wide, as you grab her around the waist. She almost crumbles from your grasp onto the floor, screaming and laughing at the same time. You grab down some old belts and scarves hanging in the cabinet and then proceed to take advantage of her incapacitated state by grabbing her tiny form up and flinging her bodily over your lanky teenage shoulders. Grasping tightly behind her knees, you carry Maria, her head bobbing upside down, laughing furiously at the fun she’s having playing the Tickle Monster game with you. She squeals and constantly percolates with nonstop giggles as she bobs along slung over your back into the comfortable sectional couch corner area in the far corner of the basement.
Plopping her down bodily onto the broad couch (facing the TV wall in the corner), you again growl in your deep ‘monster’ voice, “Ho-Ho-Ho! You are now the prisoner of The Tickle Monster, Maria!” as you sit down next to her on the cushions and proceed to wrangle her legs in one arm, while you begin to tickle the soft pink soles of her otherwise tan feet, sending her into delightful histrionics.
You continue to have a blast tickling the constantly screaming and squirming little Puerto Rican cutie until her high-pitched little shrieks actually hurt your ears. Not to mention her inadvertent kicks to both your chin and nads. While accidental on her part, they no less dampered your enjoyment a bit. Grabbing up the spare belts and scarves, you maneuver on top of Maria, easily securing her with her wrists behind her. With her thus incapacitated, you then decide to further her bondage by -
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