Mischief in Metropolis

by

Keith Steeclif

keith_steeclif@hotmail.com


"Lois Kent," Lois said softly into the mirror, trying to get used to the idea. Only twenty-four hours ago, she was Lois Lane. Standing in the bathroom of their honeymoon suite, Lois freshened up after a very amazing night with the Man of Steel.

Returning to the bedroom, Clark was asleep on the bed, laying on his stomach. The passions of the following evening left the comforter on the floor, and Clark was covered only by the sheet. As Lois gazed lovingly at her husband, she noticed that Clark's left foot was sticking out from the sheet. Reaching down lightly, she couldn't resist running her finger down Clark's bare sole.

Clark's foot jumped and Clark moaned loudly in his sleep.

"Interesting," thought Lois, "Could the Man of Steel be ticklish?" Lois stroked Clark's foot once more.

Clark's foot responded violently again, nearly waking Clark as his tormented foot disappeared under the sheet. Lois was feeling a little mischievous.

Getting in bed with Clark, Clark stirred, rolling onto his back and putting an arm around Lois. Lois began to stroke his bare chest.

With a grin on his face, Clark said, "Good morning," without opening his eyes.

"Good morning," Lois responded, using her nails to lightly scratch Clark's chest. Lois moved down toward Clark's ribs. Clark jumped.

"Whoa!" he said.

"What's this? Could Superman be ticklish?"

"Very," Clark confessed, "My super senses have their drawbacks. One of them is that I am extremely sensitive to touch."

"Really," Lois said, sitting up and straddling Clark's waist. "This I want to see."

"No, Lois, please," Clark begged. Clark could only remember one other incident when he was tickled. It was his senior year in college. His roommate and he were fooling around one night when his roommate, Chaz, started to wrestle Clark. Unable to fight back effectively without revealing his super strength, Clark let Chaz pin him. Once he did, Chaz used his knees to pin Clark's arms out. Clark was wearing a tank top and Chaz tickled his exposed armpits.

Clark's reaction was so violent, that he threw Chaz across the room, breaking his arm. Clark felt terrible and was hard pressed to explain how he'd managed to throw a 200 pound man across a room. Needless to say, Chaz never tried to tickle Clark again.

But now, Lois had that look in her eye and she was bringing her fingers toward Clark's belly. She started to scratch his washboard abs and Clark started laughing.

"Please, Lois, no. Ha haha! Please stop."

Clark fought hard to resist the urge to grab Lois' wrists. If he did, he might accidentally break them. She was tickling him cruelly so Clark reached up over his head and grabbed hold of the headboard. Of course, this left his ribs and armpits completely exposed and Lois started to work her way upward.

Clark was hysterical, gripping the headboard so hard, he could feel his fingers pressing into the solid metal uprights. As Lois tickled his ribs, tears rolled down Clark's face as he laughed loudly.

Clark thought how this was probably the closest thing to pain he'd ever felt. Even the effect of Kryptonite only left him weak. But this reaction was so violent, sending shivers through his entire body, that Clark's senses felt overwhelmed in a mixing of pleasure and sensory overload.

Then Lois moved toward Clark's armpits. Clark was completely hysterical, his armpits were so ticklish, he couldn't stand it. Suddenly, there was a loud groaning and grinding noise and Clark ripped the headboard in two.

Lois stopped tickling, "Whoa! I guess you really are ticklish."

"Whoops," Clark said with a smile, still panting from the tickling he'd received. "It won't be easy explaining this to the hotel management."

"We won't have to, I'll just tell them you're an animal in bed and let them draw their own conclusions."

They both laughed and Clark got up to put the headboard down again the wall. "See what you get for tickling me," Clark said.

"Don't think that was the last of it, Love. Now that I know the Man of Steel has a weakness, I plan to exploit it to the fullest potential."

Lex Luther was standing by the window in his study looking down over the city of Metropolis. As usual, he had only one thought on his mind, how to get his revenge on Superman. He'd discovered recently that Superman's secret identity was Clark Kent, but he had not yet devised a scheme to make use of this information. Suddenly, one of his cronies barged in.

"Fool! I told you I was not to be disturbed!"

"But Mr. Luther, we've got it."

"You have what?"

"Superman! We got something on him."

"What? Tell me. Tell me this instant."

"We bugged his hotel room just like you said. And we got this."

The henchman put a tape recorder on Luther's desk and hit the play button. Lex listened intently as the events of that morning played out to him.

"Now that I know the Man of Steel has a weakness," he heard Lois' recorded voice repeat, "I plan to exploit it to the fullest potential."

Lex clicked off the recorder and sat back in his chair, grinning an evil smile.

"So do I, Lois," he said out loud. "So do I."

Lois answered the rap at the door. Clark returned from the balcony as she shut the door.

"Who was that?"

"A bellman. He gave us tickets to dinner and a show this evening, compliments of the hotel."

"That's nice of them," Clark said, "Shall we go?"

"Well, it'd be rude not do, don't you think? Besides, I'm starting to get a bit hungry and saving the world doesn't pay too much. We shouldn't pass up a free meal."

"Actually, I don't have to eat."

"Well, you're married now and have a mouth to feed. And unless you want me to blow up like a balloon, you'd better eat your meal for appearances sake."

"Yes, Dear," Clark said with a smile and the two of them began to dress for dinner.

Despite Lois' protests, Clark wore jeans and a t-shirt to dinner.

"You could have at least worn socks," she jibbed as they entered the restaurant.

Clark looked down at his sneakered feet, "Hey, I'm on my honeymoon. I'm suppose to enjoy myself."

It was a simple dinner theatre, with a play bill in the front announcing "Vladimir the Magnificent." Lois was excited, but Clark was imaging a long, boring magic act.

After dinner, the show started. Despite Clark's assumptions, he found the magician to be excellent. Not your regular card tricks, but real illusions like you'd see in a Las Vegas act.

Near the end of the show, Vladimir's assistant brought out an ominous-looking chair.

"In my country," Vladimir said with a thick accent, although he'd never stated what country he was from, "This is known as the chair of the insane. It was used in lunatic asylum to restrain the patients as the doctors examined them."

The chair was a high back chair with a deep bucket seat. The chair legs were attached to a metal base. This base extended out a couple feet beyond the front of the chair and at the end an ottoman looking piece was secured. However, this was no simple recliner, for there was a pair of stocks attached to the ottoman and there were long poles on either side of the chair with two restraints on each pole.

"When straight jackets were not enough to contain the patient, this chair was used," Vladimir said as he sat in it. Two assistants began to secure him to the chair. One clamped his ankles in the stocks. The other, secured his wrists in the top restraints. They then used the other restraints on each pole to secure Vladimir's forearms just at the elbow. This way his arms were bent up and out at shoulder level, in a U shape.

Vladimir talked up his performance a bit more and his assistants came in with a sheet. They covered Vladimir with the sheet and started a timer. The sheet moved and jumped about from seeming furious activity underneath, and when the time ran out the assistants pulled the sheet away. Although there had been movement underneath just a moment before, the chair was empty. The crowd applauded.

Vladimir came from the back of the theater and came to stand in the middle of the audience.

"For my final illusion of the evening," he said, "I would like to take the chair a bit further. Sure, I may be trained in special ways to extract myself from the chair, but what of the novice, can I make a member of the audience disappear from the chair of the insane?"

Vladimir looked right at Clark, "How about you, Sir. Everyone, please give our friend a little encouragement."

The crowd applauded and Lois goaded Clark on. He definitely didn't want to do this, but he reluctantly agreed.

Following Vladimir up to the stage, Clark sat in the chair as the two assistants strapped him in just as they had Vladimir. Clark noticed that the restraints were quite secure, but knew he could snap free in an instant if he so chose.

Vladimir's assistants again covered the chair with the sheet and after a few seconds, pulled it away. Clark was gone and the chair was empty.

The crowd applauded and Vladimir took his final bows before leaving the stage. Lois clapped loud for the magician and her husband. She waited for her husband to return, as Vladimir had, but as the patrons began to leave, there was no sign of Clark.

Clark found himself in a room underneath the stage. He'd been lowered through a trap down while assistants beat at the sheet to make it look as if something was going on underneath. Then they raised an identical, empty chair up to replace the one that held Clark.

Clark heard the applause upstairs and then Vladimir came into the room.

"Wonderful show," Clark said.

"Thank you," Vladimir responded.

"Now, if you'll just let me up from here, my wife is waiting for me."

"I'm afraid that's not possible," Vladimir said.

"What?" Clark said, suddenly sensing danger. He realized that he was in no situation to worry about his secret identity and he tried to break the restraints. To his amazement, he couldn't do it.

From behind, Clark heard a voice, "Struggling will do you no good, Superman."

Clark recognized that voice, "Luther," he said coldly.

Lex Luther walked around the chair so Clark could see him.

"Yes, and although you destroyed the bulk of my Kryptonite supply, I had enough left over to have it laced throughout that chair. Not enough to kill you, unfortunately, but enough to make you unable to break free."

Clark tugged at the restraints. They were too strong. His arms were up at his shoulders like he was getting ready to press a barbell. The restraints at this wrists and elbows made it impossible to move his arms in or out. Likewise, the stocks held his legs tightly.

"This gets you nothing, Luther, there is still nothing you can do to harm me."

"Superman, Superman, you and I had been through a lot together over the years. Yes, perhaps I cannot harm you. Perhaps, it is not even my wish to try.

"Oh, but I am the rude host. You are going to be here for quite a while, Superman. Would you like to be more comfortable? Remove your shoes perhaps?" Luther motioned to his men and they unlaced Clark's sneakers. Unable to resist them, Clark wondered what Lex was up to as his feet were bared.

"How is that? Better?"

"Just peachy," Clark snipped.

"You know, Superman," Lex said, bringing a chair over toward Clark. He set it down near the end of the ottoman and sat down. "Like I said, you and I have shared much over the years. But it has occurred to me that there is much that we have not done. You know, palled around and been chummy. Even had a laugh or two. How about that, Superman, would you like to share a laugh with me?"

"There's a lot of things I'd like to do with you, Luther. But laughing isn't one of them."

"Oh, you disappoint me, Superman. Maybe just a little?"

"Not one giggle."

"Too bad," Luther said, "Perhaps a little encouragement will help change your attitude. When I was a small child, my Mother used to play a game with me when I was sad. She called it, 'This little piggy went to market.' Have you heard of it?"

Clark suddenly realized the predicament he was in. He also noticed how close Luther was sitting to his exposed feet.

"A childish game," was all Clark could think to say.

"Humor me, Superman," Lex said, "I always found that it lifted my spirits. If I remember correctly, it goes like this."

Luther grabbed the big toe of Clark's right foot and started to wiggle it. "This little piggy went to market," he said. Clark's foot twitched, but Luther had gripped his toe firmly, not actually stroking it.

But then Lex moved to his second toe, and ran his finger up and down the underside of it. "This little piggy stayed home," he said.

Already, Clark was finding himself losing his resolve. He knew he couldn't reveal his ticklishness to Lex Luther, but his toes were already starting to wiggle.

"This little piggy had roast beef," Lex said. Clark bit his lip.

"And this little piggy had none," Clark choked on a suppressed laugh.

"And this little piggy," Lex said. When he touched Clark's pinky toe,

Clark almost started laughing straight out. He knew he was doomed.

"Went wee, wee, wee all the way home, Lex said and proceeded to scratch his fingernails across Clark's bare sole.

Clark was lost. He burst out laughing, unable to control himself.

"No, please, hee hee hee, stop. Please stop it!"

Lex actually did stop.

"My, my, what it this? Does the Man of Steel have ticklish tootsies? Kitchy, kitchy, koo," he said, tickling Clark's right sole again.

"No, ha ha ha! Please stop! Stop tickling!"

"Tickle, tickle, tickle," Lex teased as he stroked Clark's right foot and toes. Clark was laughing hysterically. Lex tickled his foot for several minutes before stopping.

Clark was short of breath and red faced. Lex sat back and smiled.

When Clark recovered, Lex stood and said, "This really is fun, Superman. I'd love to stay here all night and tickle you, but I do have other engagements."

"But let me introduce you to my three friends," Lex said, pointing to the three men that had been standing around the entire time. "I found these gentlemen on the Internet. It seems the three of them all have one thing in common. It's a private matter really, but they aren't shy about it. You see, Superman, they all have a fetish. A fetish for tickling other men. I invited them here, because I thought they might best be able to help you explore this wonderful new sensation."

The three men said nothing, but looked at Clark hungrily as they began to unpack feathers and brushes from a bag. One of the men came over to Clark and cut away his t-shirt.

"I'll leave you in their very capable hands," Lex said. Then turning to the men, he said, "Now remember, he doesn't need to eat, or sleep, or even breath, so there's nothing to stop you from your fun. I'll be back in a few days to check your progress."

One of the men took his place in Lex's chair while the other knelt at Clark's left foot with a feather. The third man straddled Clark on the chair. He held a fine-haired paint brush in each hand.

"Luther, even you are not this cruel, please you can't leave me here with these men."

The man sitting on Clark's lap started to trace his huge pecs with the brushes.

"Haa haa haa! Please, Lex, please not this."

The other two men attacked Clark's bare soles. When the feather made contact with Clark's left foot, he thought he was going to jump out of his skin. He was hysterical again, this time the tickling was multiplied by three.

"Yes, Superman, this and much more. When I return, we'll be moving you to a new location where I can spend the rest of my years finding out just how ticklish Superman really is. And since there is nothing I can do that will harm you, you literally have an eternity of tickling to look forward to."

Clark was now laughing so hard he couldn't respond.

"Don't forget to take shifts," Lex said as he left, "I want him tickled twenty-four hours a day." Clark's laughter escaped up the stairway before Lex shut the soundproof door behind him. He smiled contentedly to himself as he slipped out the back door. On his way out, he noticed Lois in the front of the theatre shouting at the manager.

"Shout all you want, Ms. Lane," Lex thought, "Your husband cannot hear you over his own screaming laughter."

And as Lex stepped into the limo waiting for him, he thought about the construction going on at his mansion and how much he was going to enjoy getting Superman moved into his permanent tickle torture dungeon.

"Home," Lex instructed his driver, "I have to get back on the Internet. There are a lot of men still to contact that I am sure would like to come try their hand at my newest plaything."

As Lex's car drove away, Lois made her way back to the hotel room, thinking, "If he snuck back to the hotel to trick me, I am going to give him the tickling of his life."

Little did she know that Clark was getting just that.



Keith Steeclif
keith_steeclif@hotmail.com


www.ropejock.com