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Description

  Terry squirms again, another vain attempt to get unstuck. He’s tried several times but he can neither crawl back up, or squirm his way down. The extra pillows were a terrible idea but he wanted it look authentic in case he got caught...and if he did that would just make it all the more fun. Well, it would have if he got caught succeeding and not stuck, if someone finds him now he’ll just look like a fool and maybe he is.
  This year he figured he’d be adventurous and try to make it perfect, the boys are older now, old enough to conceivable try sneaking downstairs to catch ‘Santa’ at work so he decided to give them something to maybe find. Even better if the missus caught him which could have been even more fun. And yet instead of perfection, all of his efforts have left him here, stuck in a chimney in a Santa suit, unable to get out, and not for lack of trying. He’s near the bottom, if he bends his ankles he can brush the floor of the chimney with the toe of his boots but that’s as far as he can get, almost the extent of his movement besides his neck. He debates calling for help, it’ll be embarrassing to be found like this but he may not have another way of getting out.
  It’s then that he hears a tingling sound, sweet but distant, cheery too. He has no idea what’s making it and then questions if it really is far away since his hearing in the chimney is distorted. He thinks he hears a thud and feels the chimney shake but he can’t be too sure of that either, it could be the heat coming on and making the pipes expand, giving the feeling of the house moving.
  He thinks he hears footsteps but is willing to say that’s wishful thinking because who is awake at two or three in the morning, even if it’s Christmas morning? Then again, the more he listens the more he really thinks he hears footsteps, but above him? He can’t be sure but he thinks he hears more movement above and then around him.
  Finally, he hears a laugh, this time below him.
  “Stuck are we?” It isn’t a voice he recognizes but it sounds amused, a man’s voice, deep and brimming with mirth.
  “Who are you?” Someone’s in his house! That’s the only explanation and it’s one he doesn't like.
  “Oh I wouldn’t worry about that, just know I’m someone who can help you out of there.”
  He’s still squirming but stops when he hears that and perks up. “You can?”
  A chuckle and then, “Oh I can, very well but you probably won’t like it very much.”
  “What do you mean I won’t like it?” There aren’t too many things he can think of worse than being stuck in a chimney.
  “Mmm, don’t worry about it Terry, you’ll find out soon enough.”
  “How do you know my name!”
    His question goes unanswered as he feels a tug on one of his boots; big, heavy, black things that go with the costume and tire his legs just to lift due to the weight. It slides off a bit and another hand moves his ankle, taking a startlingly firm hold of it so the boot can be slide off fully. The other follows. He allows it because they’re tiring to wear and once off, his feet feel free even if they’re still encased in heavy woolen socks.
    “Cute socks, red looks good on you.”
    He blushes. “Umm, thanks. I appreciate you getting those things off but how does this help me get free?”
    “Well that’s the part you aren’t going to like.”
    “Wait, what?”
    And then he feels something on his foot, just a touch at first which causes it jerk away.
    “Hey what are you doing?” His voice rises in alarm as another finger poke gently at his other dangling foot.
    “Tickling you.”
    “WhahHY?” Now a few more fingers join in, tapping and touching lightly at his soles
    “To loosen you up of course.”
    “WhAHAhAhaT?”
    “Well how else am I going to get you out hmm?”
    He tries to say ‘any other way’ but it’s lost among the giggles and laughter as the person proves an adept tickler, easily finding his most sensitive spots and drawing laughter from him.
    “Still stuck are you? Well guess I’d better step it up!”
    That can only mean one thing and Terry yelps, “Don’t you dare!”
    He clenches his toes as he says it but he can’t even see his feet which puts him at a huge disadvantage trying to escape the hands that catch them easily and strip the socks off. His feet now have the just-bared feeling and his nerves stand on end, unfortunately, ready to be manipulated by the hands below.
    Once again fingers dance across them, scratching heels, poking balls, touching arches. The wool socks he had on had done a lot to diminish the tickling feeling but with them gone he now feels every little bit of it! The nails scratch lightly across the over sensitized surfaces and shoot electric messages straight to his brain. His feet, always soft, and now slightly sweaty from the heavy boots and thick socks, offer little friction to slow down the hands as the slide up and down from balls to heel.
    “Hoho, someone’s got ticklish tootsies don’t they?”
    That adds insult to injury so to speak and causes him to blush more in his dark prison.
    The worst though, is when his toes get touched. It’s only for a second and could have even been an accident but he feels something soft, like fur almost, brush against the pads of them for a moment, every fiber of his being in focused on those five little digits and the tickling happening to them. He can feel every single fiber of the fur as it traces a course across them, gets between the toes and under them. In fact, it’s so overwhelming that he doesn't feel anything else except them being tickled.
    Nothing else that is until he’s suddenly sliding down down down, it isn’t far and happens fast but when his but hits the floor of the fireplace he sits in a daze for several moments until a large hand heaves him up.
    He comes face to face with a large man, round face and round belly, his eyes twinkle merrily and as Terry looks closer, mischievously, behind small glasses and his beard is long and white and from head to ankles, he decked out in red; coat, pants, hat, all lined with white fur. His feet are the exception, they were clad in heavy black boots, very close to the ones he wore not too long ago and if it weren’t for a quick glance to see his two lying discarded with his red socks, he’d assume they were his.
    A hand pats his back so hard he nearly stumbles forward. “Next year you ought to leave the chimney diving to the professionals.”
    “Santa…”
    The man raises a finger to his lips and winks. “I’m going to have to ask you to keep your voice down a bit on that one. I have work to do, you’re welcome to watch as long as you stay quiet.”
    “How?”
    “Don’t you know? Laughter is a chimney lubricant! Makes even a big man like me slide through it with ease hoho!”
    With that strange explanation, the jolly old man sets about his work in the light of the tree, opening a large sack and leaning up against a wall to pull many, beautifully wrapped packages and bags out. Mutely Terry crosses to the couch and sits down, watching in silent awe. He never thought there was an art to stacking presents under the tree but he’s proven wrong. The care astounded him, laying every gift one on top of the other, arranging them to sit in piles not too perfect and yet perfect all the same. Then Santa returns to his bag and brings it to the fire place, pulling things out to fill the stockings. He’s sad when the work seems to be done and the man approaches him one more time, hands outstretched holding a package wrapped in scarlet.
    “You’ve been a good boy this year, more so going through the trouble that landed you in the situation I found you in. I think perhaps one early gift won’t ruin the magic of the morning.”
    He flushes to match the paper at being called a boy but opens it to find a pair of socks, soft like silk but also warm like the wool ones he had on before.
    Looking up wide eyed he says, “How can I repay you?”
    The man laughs “HoHoHo, repay me? I don’t need any payment but if you feel so inclined, I can think of something.” Then the old man holds his hands out expectantly and Terry, confused passes him the socks. After taking them, it takes another gesture for Terry to realizes where this going and blushing deeply, he extends his legs, placing his bare, now chilled feet on the table in front of him. The old man then puts the socks on for him, taking the opportunity to tickle his feet one more time, commenting, “They’re soft as silk, really it’s impressive. Big too.”
    The whole process leave Terry a bright Christmas red and yet as Santa turns to leave, he’s disappointed. He watches the old man and approach the chimney, and then, with a final turn and a wink he says, “I left an...extra present for you, you’ll know it when you find it. Merry Christmas.”
    And then he’s gone, up the chimney and doesn’t even get stuck. There’s a sound on the roof and in the distance Terry can hear a final round of HoHoHo fading into the night.
    As he unwraps his presents the next morning he finds a note addressed to him from Santa. He puts it aside but as soon as he’s alone, read it:
    Dear Terry,
    You have been a good boy this year but finding you impersonating me is a strike against you! Still, we had a good time so I’ll share with you the secret of some of my jolliness (it takes more than coffee and a good attitude to circumnavigate the globe and bring cheer to everyone in one night). Try on your boots from last night for my extra present to you and next year if you get stuck again I may have to move you to my ‘naughty list’ and then you’ll find out what this old man can really do to a ticklish child!
                                                                                                         Much love and Merry Christmas,
                                                                                                                                                     Santa
    He read the note over again and then seeks out the boots, they’re lying by the chimney where Santa left them the night before and he pulls them on, very curious.
     They fit as snug as they did last night with his thick socks, the new ones, and he finds that they have...features. Specifically tickle related one. The boots...they massage gently but it quickly turns to tickling, buzzing vibrations that grow stronger as they remain on. The vibrating grows stronger and stronger till he’s practically howling like he was last night! He leaves the on until the vibrating gets to his toes and then he panics and attempts to kick the boots off but they’re too well fitted to come off that easily and it ends up taking longer than he means to finally free himself of them.
    He puts them to the side and rereads the letter while glancing at the boots. He has to get on the naughty list next year, the appeal is too good and a tickle trap for Santa will surely do that! He has no idea how to make one though so it's a good thing he has three hundred and sixty four days to plan!

Description

  Terry squirms again, another vain attempt to get unstuck. He’s tried several times but he can neither crawl back up, or squirm his way down. The extra pillows were a terrible idea but he wanted it look authentic in case he got caught...and if he did that would just make it all the more fun. Well, it would have if he got caught succeeding and not stuck, if someone finds him now he’ll just look like a fool and maybe he is.
  This year he figured he’d be adventurous and try to make it perfect, the boys are older now, old enough to conceivable try sneaking downstairs to catch ‘Santa’ at work so he decided to give them something to maybe find. Even better if the missus caught him which could have been even more fun. And yet instead of perfection, all of his efforts have left him here, stuck in a chimney in a Santa suit, unable to get out, and not for lack of trying. He’s near the bottom, if he bends his ankles he can brush the floor of the chimney with the toe of his boots but that’s as far as he can get, almost the extent of his movement besides his neck. He debates calling for help, it’ll be embarrassing to be found like this but he may not have another way of getting out.
  It’s then that he hears a tingling sound, sweet but distant, cheery too. He has no idea what’s making it and then questions if it really is far away since his hearing in the chimney is distorted. He thinks he hears a thud and feels the chimney shake but he can’t be too sure of that either, it could be the heat coming on and making the pipes expand, giving the feeling of the house moving.
  He thinks he hears footsteps but is willing to say that’s wishful thinking because who is awake at two or three in the morning, even if it’s Christmas morning? Then again, the more he listens the more he really thinks he hears footsteps, but above him? He can’t be sure but he thinks he hears more movement above and then around him.
  Finally, he hears a laugh, this time below him.
  “Stuck are we?” It isn’t a voice he recognizes but it sounds amused, a man’s voice, deep and brimming with mirth.
  “Who are you?” Someone’s in his house! That’s the only explanation and it’s one he doesn't like.
  “Oh I wouldn’t worry about that, just know I’m someone who can help you out of there.”
  He’s still squirming but stops when he hears that and perks up. “You can?”
  A chuckle and then, “Oh I can, very well but you probably won’t like it very much.”
  “What do you mean I won’t like it?” There aren’t too many things he can think of worse than being stuck in a chimney.
  “Mmm, don’t worry about it Terry, you’ll find out soon enough.”
  “How do you know my name!”
    His question goes unanswered as he feels a tug on one of his boots; big, heavy, black things that go with the costume and tire his legs just to lift due to the weight. It slides off a bit and another hand moves his ankle, taking a startlingly firm hold of it so the boot can be slide off fully. The other follows. He allows it because they’re tiring to wear and once off, his feet feel free even if they’re still encased in heavy woolen socks.
    “Cute socks, red looks good on you.”
    He blushes. “Umm, thanks. I appreciate you getting those things off but how does this help me get free?”
    “Well that’s the part you aren’t going to like.”
    “Wait, what?”
    And then he feels something on his foot, just a touch at first which causes it jerk away.
    “Hey what are you doing?” His voice rises in alarm as another finger poke gently at his other dangling foot.
    “Tickling you.”
    “WhahHY?” Now a few more fingers join in, tapping and touching lightly at his soles
    “To loosen you up of course.”
    “WhAHAhAhaT?”
    “Well how else am I going to get you out hmm?”
    He tries to say ‘any other way’ but it’s lost among the giggles and laughter as the person proves an adept tickler, easily finding his most sensitive spots and drawing laughter from him.
    “Still stuck are you? Well guess I’d better step it up!”
    That can only mean one thing and Terry yelps, “Don’t you dare!”
    He clenches his toes as he says it but he can’t even see his feet which puts him at a huge disadvantage trying to escape the hands that catch them easily and strip the socks off. His feet now have the just-bared feeling and his nerves stand on end, unfortunately, ready to be manipulated by the hands below.
    Once again fingers dance across them, scratching heels, poking balls, touching arches. The wool socks he had on had done a lot to diminish the tickling feeling but with them gone he now feels every little bit of it! The nails scratch lightly across the over sensitized surfaces and shoot electric messages straight to his brain. His feet, always soft, and now slightly sweaty from the heavy boots and thick socks, offer little friction to slow down the hands as the slide up and down from balls to heel.
    “Hoho, someone’s got ticklish tootsies don’t they?”
    That adds insult to injury so to speak and causes him to blush more in his dark prison.
    The worst though, is when his toes get touched. It’s only for a second and could have even been an accident but he feels something soft, like fur almost, brush against the pads of them for a moment, every fiber of his being in focused on those five little digits and the tickling happening to them. He can feel every single fiber of the fur as it traces a course across them, gets between the toes and under them. In fact, it’s so overwhelming that he doesn't feel anything else except them being tickled.
    Nothing else that is until he’s suddenly sliding down down down, it isn’t far and happens fast but when his but hits the floor of the fireplace he sits in a daze for several moments until a large hand heaves him up.
    He comes face to face with a large man, round face and round belly, his eyes twinkle merrily and as Terry looks closer, mischievously, behind small glasses and his beard is long and white and from head to ankles, he decked out in red; coat, pants, hat, all lined with white fur. His feet are the exception, they were clad in heavy black boots, very close to the ones he wore not too long ago and if it weren’t for a quick glance to see his two lying discarded with his red socks, he’d assume they were his.
    A hand pats his back so hard he nearly stumbles forward. “Next year you ought to leave the chimney diving to the professionals.”
    “Santa…”
    The man raises a finger to his lips and winks. “I’m going to have to ask you to keep your voice down a bit on that one. I have work to do, you’re welcome to watch as long as you stay quiet.”
    “How?”
    “Don’t you know? Laughter is a chimney lubricant! Makes even a big man like me slide through it with ease hoho!”
    With that strange explanation, the jolly old man sets about his work in the light of the tree, opening a large sack and leaning up against a wall to pull many, beautifully wrapped packages and bags out. Mutely Terry crosses to the couch and sits down, watching in silent awe. He never thought there was an art to stacking presents under the tree but he’s proven wrong. The care astounded him, laying every gift one on top of the other, arranging them to sit in piles not too perfect and yet perfect all the same. Then Santa returns to his bag and brings it to the fire place, pulling things out to fill the stockings. He’s sad when the work seems to be done and the man approaches him one more time, hands outstretched holding a package wrapped in scarlet.
    “You’ve been a good boy this year, more so going through the trouble that landed you in the situation I found you in. I think perhaps one early gift won’t ruin the magic of the morning.”
    He flushes to match the paper at being called a boy but opens it to find a pair of socks, soft like silk but also warm like the wool ones he had on before.
    Looking up wide eyed he says, “How can I repay you?”
    The man laughs “HoHoHo, repay me? I don’t need any payment but if you feel so inclined, I can think of something.” Then the old man holds his hands out expectantly and Terry, confused passes him the socks. After taking them, it takes another gesture for Terry to realizes where this going and blushing deeply, he extends his legs, placing his bare, now chilled feet on the table in front of him. The old man then puts the socks on for him, taking the opportunity to tickle his feet one more time, commenting, “They’re soft as silk, really it’s impressive. Big too.”
    The whole process leave Terry a bright Christmas red and yet as Santa turns to leave, he’s disappointed. He watches the old man and approach the chimney, and then, with a final turn and a wink he says, “I left an...extra present for you, you’ll know it when you find it. Merry Christmas.”
    And then he’s gone, up the chimney and doesn’t even get stuck. There’s a sound on the roof and in the distance Terry can hear a final round of HoHoHo fading into the night.
    As he unwraps his presents the next morning he finds a note addressed to him from Santa. He puts it aside but as soon as he’s alone, read it:
    Dear Terry,
    You have been a good boy this year but finding you impersonating me is a strike against you! Still, we had a good time so I’ll share with you the secret of some of my jolliness (it takes more than coffee and a good attitude to circumnavigate the globe and bring cheer to everyone in one night). Try on your boots from last night for my extra present to you and next year if you get stuck again I may have to move you to my ‘naughty list’ and then you’ll find out what this old man can really do to a ticklish child!
                                                                                                         Much love and Merry Christmas,
                                                                                                                                                     Santa
    He read the note over again and then seeks out the boots, they’re lying by the chimney where Santa left them the night before and he pulls them on, very curious.
     They fit as snug as they did last night with his thick socks, the new ones, and he finds that they have...features. Specifically tickle related one. The boots...they massage gently but it quickly turns to tickling, buzzing vibrations that grow stronger as they remain on. The vibrating grows stronger and stronger till he’s practically howling like he was last night! He leaves the on until the vibrating gets to his toes and then he panics and attempts to kick the boots off but they’re too well fitted to come off that easily and it ends up taking longer than he means to finally free himself of them.
    He puts them to the side and rereads the letter while glancing at the boots. He has to get on the naughty list next year, the appeal is too good and a tickle trap for Santa will surely do that! He has no idea how to make one though so it's a good thing he has three hundred and sixty four days to plan!