Twelve year old Jack loved walking through the woods. It led away from the suburban area he lived in to an abandoned house in the middle of the forest. Jack would walk there for solitude, to do things that he felt couldn't be done at the house.
For instance, he would go in, take off his shirt and walk around the main room before settling down to rest from the walking; or he would hang his shirt on a hook...with him wearing it; or he'd strip down to his underwear or boxers, bind his ankles, gag his mouth, and cuff his hands with things he'd left there, and hop around, making playful muffled grunts as he did.
Anyway, he made it the cottage and, after looking around, went inside. Little did he know, someone else had gotten accommodated in the house and set up security traps. Once Jack took a few steps in, a trapdoor opened up beneath him! "AAAAAH!" he screamed as he plunged down the hole. On the way down, his shirt caught on to two hooks opposite of each other. Unfortunately, he was wearing a muscle shirt, meaning that when it caught, he easily slid out of it.
After falling so long that he could take a deep breath, Jack landed on a gurney, with belts coming to life and strapping down his limbs so that he was in an I position. A door opened and in stepped a woman that looked like 2003FMA Lust...only less revealing...way less revealing. "Who are you?!" Jack asked fearfully.
"My name is of no concern to you," said the woman sharply, "other than that I am a tickle witch."
"A tickle witch?" exclaimed Jack, now going red in the face. "You mean...you tickle people?"
"Yes," said the woman, her face and voice laced with confusion. "Your surprise is different from the others that came here."
"I...liked to be tickled," Jack confessed. "I wanted to tickle myself whenever I came here, but it's not easy when you're doing it to yourself, especially if you have to obey when to stop."
"Hmm," the approaching woman, "I could help with that." She was now at the gurney, eying Jack's bare tummy, armpits, and feet. "But where to start?"