HOME | DD

Description
The “finished” draft. Still a rough sketch. If anyone is good at digital artwork and can remake/color this I’d be happy to work out some kind of deal! For now, check out the story below that tells how our boy Jonathan ended up in this situation.

————————————————————————

Usually when you walk into the wrong apartment it’s a funny accident. You smile, embarrassed and apologize to anyone you may have walked in on and then leave immediately.

That wasn’t the case for Jonathan when he accidentally popped into the wrong apartment in his building. He was staring down at his phone and didn’t realize he had walked up an extra flight of stairs and entered the apartment directly above his. This honest mistake would’ve been merely a blip in his life had he not accidentally walked in on a group of 4 tickle fiends.

They invited him in, saying they have drinks and weed. Jonathan agreed without hesitation, excited to meet his new neighbors. Everything was fine for a little bit. He took a few hits, took a few sips and was feeling nice. That was until one of the roommates blindfolded him from behind and the others grabbed him while he sat on the couch, completely vulnerable. He fought back, but couldn’t out-wrestle the four guys at once.

Before he knew it he was trapped on a massage table, His wrists strapped above his head and his size 12 feet in stocks at the other end. They tore off his shoes and socks and stripped him down to his underwear. Jonathan, kinda buzzed from the previous activities, wasn’t too worried. More confused. He just didn’t get it...
Suddenly the four guys started tickling him...really really well. 2 at his upper body and 2 at his feet. They dug into his armpits, poked and prodded his sides, wiggles their fingers over his belly, scratched his soles, scrubbed his feet with a hairbrush and danced feathers over, under, and in between his tied-back toes. They even stuck an electric toothbrush in his shorts and taped down its neck so the bristles vibrated endlessly on his poor belly.

Now Jonathan got it. And he continued to get it all night as he screamed with laughter and profanity in the small, soundproofed apartment.

As he lied there getting the crap tickled out of him, he swore to himself to always count each flight of stairs he walked up.

Description
The “finished” draft. Still a rough sketch. If anyone is good at digital artwork and can remake/color this I’d be happy to work out some kind of deal! For now, check out the story below that tells how our boy Jonathan ended up in this situation.

————————————————————————

Usually when you walk into the wrong apartment it’s a funny accident. You smile, embarrassed and apologize to anyone you may have walked in on and then leave immediately.

That wasn’t the case for Jonathan when he accidentally popped into the wrong apartment in his building. He was staring down at his phone and didn’t realize he had walked up an extra flight of stairs and entered the apartment directly above his. This honest mistake would’ve been merely a blip in his life had he not accidentally walked in on a group of 4 tickle fiends.

They invited him in, saying they have drinks and weed. Jonathan agreed without hesitation, excited to meet his new neighbors. Everything was fine for a little bit. He took a few hits, took a few sips and was feeling nice. That was until one of the roommates blindfolded him from behind and the others grabbed him while he sat on the couch, completely vulnerable. He fought back, but couldn’t out-wrestle the four guys at once.

Before he knew it he was trapped on a massage table, His wrists strapped above his head and his size 12 feet in stocks at the other end. They tore off his shoes and socks and stripped him down to his underwear. Jonathan, kinda buzzed from the previous activities, wasn’t too worried. More confused. He just didn’t get it...
Suddenly the four guys started tickling him...really really well. 2 at his upper body and 2 at his feet. They dug into his armpits, poked and prodded his sides, wiggles their fingers over his belly, scratched his soles, scrubbed his feet with a hairbrush and danced feathers over, under, and in between his tied-back toes. They even stuck an electric toothbrush in his shorts and taped down its neck so the bristles vibrated endlessly on his poor belly.

Now Jonathan got it. And he continued to get it all night as he screamed with laughter and profanity in the small, soundproofed apartment.

As he lied there getting the crap tickled out of him, he swore to himself to always count each flight of stairs he walked up.