Chapter
Three: Friendly Public Transportation
Following
my shower, I sneak back into my room to dress myself. Brenda and Rhonda have probably left for
their own morning classes, but I take no chances. After a brief bout of indecision in front of
my closet, I decide to go with a white summer dress with a pink floral
pattern. After all, the weather is still
quite warm and I like loose, comfortable clothing. As for panties, I just go with a simple pink
pair. I doubt I’ll be wearing them for
long, anyway.
I slink
back into the bathroom to put on my pink lipstick, my mascara, and a little
blending foundation on my cheeks. A
healthy dose of eye shadow rounds out my makeup routine. Last but not least, I pull my shoulder length
hair into two short back braids.
Once I’m
absolutely positive I’m alone in the house, I start to cook up my
breakfast. A banana strawberry smoothie,
a couple slices of bacon, and a heaping pile of French toast with powdered
sugar. I know, I know, it’s a pretty
fattening breakfast, but I need the calories.
Since Brenda and Rhonda decided to appoint themselves my alarm clocks
and shower attendants, I’ve been shedding the pounds. My classes aren’t exactly any better. I need to eat huge, heavy meals just to keep
my girlish figure.
I sit
down and eat my meal while reading another chapter from my current book. I’m really starting to get into Setsa and the
Giggling Forest. It’s about a wandering
thief who gets lost in a forest filled with mischievous fairies, seductive
witches, and entangling vines. I’ve just
gotten to the part where Setsa hides in a hollow log and a hungry tiger finds
her. As I read about the feline licking
her trapped bare soles with its long, rough tongue, my own feet squirm with
sympathy. I can’t even imagine what it
would be like to have my naked soles torturously lickled by a ferocious beast.
Sadly,
my breakfast break ends all too soon, as my faithful watch beeps to remind me
that it’s time to head out to the bus. I
grab my backpack, put on my signature pink beret, and slip into my flipflops. A quick walk from my apartment takes me right
to the bus stop. As a student, I don’t
have to pay for riding, so I simply climb right on. The automatic driver computer registers my
face and lets me into the main seating area.
I take a seat far into the back and slip off my shoes.
Right in
front of the seat is a large white box with two plastic openings, kind of like
two Kleenex boxes side by side. A large
sign on the box reads “Insert Bare Feet into Ankle Holes: Bus will not start moving until all ankles
are secured.” Butterflies fill my
stomach as I slip my naked feet into the openings. Glancing around, I see a couple of other
riders doing the same thing. One pretty
brunette is biting her lower lip in anticipation. A slender gothic looking girl is unlacing her
huge boots, her nervous expression clashing with her doom and gloom makeup.
As soon
as all of our feet are carefully placed into the waiting holes, there is a hiss
of rushing air. The plastic around our
ankles inflates, gripping us like blood pressure sleeves. I gulp, knowing exactly what’s coming…
When the
university first started offering free public transportation from their
apartments to campus, the buses quickly descended into rolling tickle
orgies. Any student who dared to climb aboard was
quickly grabbed, stripped, and tickle tortured until they either blacked out or
joined in the fun. Students missed their
stops and class attendance dropped drastically.
Finally, the student council decided to implement a method for keeping
the bus riders… occupied while in transit.
I guess they figured if the riders were going to be in hysterics anyway…
A slight whirring noise in the only advanced
warning I get before I feel dozens of tiny spinning brushes caress my naked
soles. It honestly feels like I’m being
attacked by a hoard of automatic toothbrushes.
I instantly break out into helpless laughter, hugging my backpack to my
chest for all I’m worth. The merry
giggles surrounding me let me know that I’m not the only person suffering. I can feel my cheeks getting hot as I’m
tickle tortured in such a public setting.
Only the fact that everyone else is a little too preoccupied to pay me
any attention keeps me from utterly freaking out.
I try
desperately to wriggle my feet around in their cocoon, but the brushes follow
me no matter where my feet try to hide.
The inflated ankle cuffs are incredibly snug, ruining all my attempts to
pull my feet away from the prickly bristles.
I can feel tears of laughter begin to pour down my cheeks.
Too bad
that’s not the only thing that’s pouring.
I can feel precum welling up from my cock, staining my panties. The public exposure combined with the titillating
scrubbing my soles are enduring is heating me up. Trying to distract myself, I glance around
the cabin.
The
brunette is going absolutely insane, flailing about and tugging at her long
hair. Everyone once in a while her
entire body shakes as if she’s being electrocuted and her eyes widen comically. She must have a really sensitive spot the
random motions of the brushes keep finding.
Meanwhile, the gothy girl has pulled back her skirt, revealing a
modestly sized penis. As she howls with
laughter, she furiously masturbates herself, jetting streams of cum onto the
bus floor.
Glancing
around was a mistake. My fellow travelers
distress is only making me hornier. A
heavy moan slips into my laughter and I arch my back with trembling
pleasure. The constant purring
sensations on my naked soles extends my orgasm, flooding my panties with cum as
I scream my tortured passion for all the world to hear.
The
brushes don’t care that I just came all over myself. The brushes don’t care that my skin is
heating up and growing more sensitive in my postorgasmic bliss. The brushes especially don’t care that we
haven’t even traveled a fourth of the way there. They just keeping spinning, and spinning, and
spinning, canvassing over every inch of my arches and polishing my toes to a
mirror shine.
I don’t
even count how many times I cum on the bus ride. All I know is that by the time the automated
voice announces that we’ve reach the campus, my knees have turned to jelly and
I’ve sweat so much it looks like I just got out of the shower. The gothic rider’s face is streaked with
mascara. I hope she remembered to bring
her makeup bag to campus.
The
torture box deflates and I free my tenderized soles, rubbing them for a moment
to get rid of the last lingering tickly sensations. Slipping on my sandals, I stagger towards the
front of the bus. I guess I’m lucky that
I live such a short way from campus, or I might just cum myself unconscious on
the way to class. That reminds me… I
need to change my panties. There is a
reason half my backpack is filled with clean underwear.
