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Created by www.deviantart.com/ticklishbed…

What had started as a pretty typical outing to Outback Island for Henry Otter had turned into... well... it was complicated. Every week, he would come over from Zootopia's main city to have boxing practice with his friend, Keene Kangaroo. It was something they both enjoyed. Their size difference wasn't even an issue, as Henry was clever enough to find ways to use it to his advantage. Mostly the fact that he was a smaller target.

What made this day unusual was a poster that someone had put up in the gym's locker room. "I didn't know Outback Island had a renaissance fair." said Henry. "Well it does." said Keene. "Actually, I've been meaning to go for a while. It's just... I don't want to without you, and you've always been busy when it happened."

Henry opened his locker and pulled out a green short sleeved shirt and cargo shorts. "I dunno." he said. "You know I like roleplay. But I'm used to doing it with close friends. Crowds are... well... crowded. Besides, I left my costume at home." Keene was putting on his orange tank top and short jeans. "Well we don't have to commit yet. We can just swing by briefly to check it out and make our decision then."

Henry reluctantly agreed. Both their lockers had been completely devoid of any shoes that would need to be put on, so they exited the gym quite quickly after their conversation. Not too long later, they were wandering the renfaire, looking like a couple of contemporary time-travelers among the medieval-styled tents.

"It's... okay I guess." said Henry, though he was still put off by the sheer number of mammals in attendance, most of which he was a good deal smaller than. He had to resort to riding on Keene's head to avoid being trampled.

"Seriously? This has gotta be the most crowded year so far." came a small voice from near the ground. "There must be hundreds of mammals here, and not a single one of them wants to volunteer?" It was a mole who looked irritated.

Keene lowered Henry to the ground so that he could talk to the mole more directly. "Volunteering for what?." The mole pointed off to the side. "The stockades over there." Henry and Keene both looked where the mole was pointing, but there were no stockades. "Um, I think they're behind you." said Keene, noticing that there were stocks in the other direction.

"Are they?" said the mole, turning around. "Sorry, I have the eyesight of... well... a mole. Everything looks like a big blurry blob to me. Gotta rely on sense of smell to know who or what anyone is. But, yeah. Those stockades. Normally, we find some volunteers to fill them, but it seems like everyone's got somethin' better to do. Not only that, we were supposed to order one in a dingo size, but the paperwork got mixed up and they accidentally sent us an otter-sized one. I imagine there's an otter renfaire somewhere that's stuck with the one we shoulda got."

Keene nudged Henry forward slightly with his foot. "Hey, you're otter-sized. And it looks like the other stocks are kangaroo-sized." Henry backed away defensively. "Uh, I'm not sure about this. I know what happens to mammals in stocks at these events. Plus we didn't actually bring costumes..." Keene stepped in. "Well I'm willing to do it." Henry turned to Keene in shock. "What? Really?" Keene shrugged. "Okay, so it's not exactly my idea of a good time. But this fair just doesn't seem complete without someone in the stocks. If that someone has to be me, who am I to deny them my feet?"

Henry considered it. "Well, if you're doing it, then I guess I'll join you. Besides, I don't think another otter is going to wander past anytime soon." The mole smiled. "Perfect. And don't worry about costumes. There's loaners at the changing tents over there. They got sizes for every species in Zootopia." He pointed at a booth that was selling fake unicorn horns for little horse girls.
"Uh, I think you meant to point somewhere else." said Henry. "We'll find the tents." said Keene, picking up his friend again. "Great. Oh, and, obviously leave your shoes if you happen to be wearing any." said the Mole.

The changing tents were easy to find, and the loaner costumes were easy to get. They even had a variety of choices. They picked out what was closest to their normal cosplay. Keene got a beige sleeveless tunic and brown pants, Henry a burlap sack and midway trousers. They took these into the tents and swapped them in for their modern clothes. The mole's last words to them didn't apply. They were already barefoot, and stayed barefoot after changing. They came out, and left their other outfits with the loaning attendant.

Soon, their ankles were locked in their respectively-sized stockades, with medieval handcuffs keeping their forepaws behind their backs, for authenticity. The mole finished securing them, and climbed a miniature ladder to the top of the table where attendees were already lining up for a chance to tickle the two "prisoners". "Oh, sure. Everyone wants to be on that side of the equation." groaned Henry.

The mole unraveled a scroll. "These two stand accused of the crime of... uh... I have no idea what this says. Lousy historical accuracy. Why couldn't I get this in braille? Um... they... insulted the king's... toes? Yeah, you all know how self-conscious he gets about his toes. And as punishment, his majesty has ordered the public to tickle their toes. Huh, I didn't plan to come up with a crime that fit the punishment, but that worked out pretty good."

After having trouble cutting the ribbon, the mole got help from the wallaby at the front of the line. And then the stocks were officially open for business. Two pairs of feet to tickle, and more than enough ticklers for them. And those feet had plenty of ticklishness to go around.

It was clear to see that the attendees of this renfaire enjoyed a good tickle stockade. At least, when they were the ones doing the tickling. Anyone who passed by could easily tell that not only were this kangaroo and otter both at high levels of ticklishness, but that the tickles being given to them were also some of the best one might get from random members of the general public.

Though it wasn't completely random. The mammals who tended to gravitate towards these activities were mostly the ones who were good at tickling, and knew perfectly well how good they were. It was basically the only way they could really show off their skills to a large audience. So, of course, they wouldn't pass up a chance to flex their tickling skills for the crowd.

What made the tickles especially strong here was the variety of ticklers giving it out. Outback Island was home to a decent number of species. There were koalas, dingoes, kangaroos, wallabies, and buck-billed-platypuses and those were just the most common ones here. There was an occasional weasel or raccoon or something visiting from the main city. Each of these species was present in this crowd and they all had different forepaws, in different sizes. And this in turn meant that every species did tickling differently. Whenever a tickler left so that the next in line could have their turn, the flavor of the tickle would change.

Further adding to the variety of tickles was the tools provided. Mainly feathers and a variety of brushes in multiple sizes. They weren't quite as popular as just basic finger tickling, mostly because softer tools are only really effective on paw pads where there's no fur in the way. Each tool was like a completely separate type of forepaw doing the tickling. Except the fact that it wasn't a finger tickle made them stand out against the ones who were doing just the basics.

That's not to say that the tools didn't have variety in themselves. The styles of tickling varied even between members of a single species. Some would tickle fast, others would be more slow and methodical. A significant chunk had even mastered multiple methods of tickling, which they would switch up often. Multiply that by the variety of tools and types of forepaws delivering the tickle, and it all came together onto something that constantly kept all four of these ticklish soles guessing. If you believe neuroscientists who study the phenomenon of ticklishness, the element of surprise is the biggest part of what makes a tickle so effective.

Obviously, no one was required to tickle a single pair of paws alone. In fact, a lot of the mammals who came were perfectly content to only tickle a single paw while someone else tickled the other one. Even the ones who wanted to do both paws would use a different tool in each hand. With asymmetry in the type of tickle they felt, it was practically impossible to tune anything out.

Since Henry was small, his feet were naturally not especially large, at least compared to the average citizen of Outback Island. Consequently, his soles didn't have a lot of surface area. One would think that would make them hard to tickle, but he was finding that to be just the opposite. For feet as small as his, a little went a long way. What would only register as a tiny twitch on a larger mammal easily covered the entire height of his paw pad. So with movements that most others would consider only moderately-sized, Henry's entire sole could be flooded with tickles.

Keene's large feet were having the opposite problem. By sharp contrast, a single forepaw could only get a tiny section of his sole at a time. That wouldn't be much of a tickle on it's own. However, since his feet were so big, multiple ticklers could fit their fingers or smaller tools in simultaneously. More things doing the tickling equals more tickles, and Keene's feet had plenty of space. With enough coordination, four ticklers could attack him at one, each covering only half of one of his feet. There was enough space for them to even move the tickle around to cover more ground.

Another thing that was a contrast was their laughter. Like different species provided different kinds of tickle, so too did they provide different reactions. Keene's laughter was loud and deep, a very powerful sound, fitting for the powerful tickle that was causing it. Henry laughed at a more moderate volume, at a higher pitch, with the occasional snort. His was a more cute laughter, the laugher of someone completely overwhelmed by the tickling. But for their differing qualities, both laughs were equally satisfying for the collective amusement of the ones who tickled it out of them.

As the hours slowly ticked past, Keene and Henry actually both grew to enjoy all the tickling. Henry was quite a bit slower to do this than his friend, but it still happened. And the fact that their ticklishness was bringing joy to so many just seemed like the best use for it. It was good that they had decided to stick around and participate in this.

The day went on, and the two friends got no shortage of tickles. But eventually, the fair closed for the night. The mole set them free. Or rather, Henry gave him directions to where his wrists were bound, and he opened the stocks himself, then released Keene. "You two did good." said the mole. "Couldn't see any of it obviously, but I never heard better laughter in my life."

As Henry and Keene started to leave to get their clothes from the tent, they heard the mole moping. "I just hope I can find someone as good as you tomorrow. If I find anyone at all." Henry turned back. "You won't need to." Keene nodded. "Yeah, we'll come back and do it again. As many times as it takes."

Description
Created by www.deviantart.com/ticklishbed…

What had started as a pretty typical outing to Outback Island for Henry Otter had turned into... well... it was complicated. Every week, he would come over from Zootopia's main city to have boxing practice with his friend, Keene Kangaroo. It was something they both enjoyed. Their size difference wasn't even an issue, as Henry was clever enough to find ways to use it to his advantage. Mostly the fact that he was a smaller target.

What made this day unusual was a poster that someone had put up in the gym's locker room. "I didn't know Outback Island had a renaissance fair." said Henry. "Well it does." said Keene. "Actually, I've been meaning to go for a while. It's just... I don't want to without you, and you've always been busy when it happened."

Henry opened his locker and pulled out a green short sleeved shirt and cargo shorts. "I dunno." he said. "You know I like roleplay. But I'm used to doing it with close friends. Crowds are... well... crowded. Besides, I left my costume at home." Keene was putting on his orange tank top and short jeans. "Well we don't have to commit yet. We can just swing by briefly to check it out and make our decision then."

Henry reluctantly agreed. Both their lockers had been completely devoid of any shoes that would need to be put on, so they exited the gym quite quickly after their conversation. Not too long later, they were wandering the renfaire, looking like a couple of contemporary time-travelers among the medieval-styled tents.

"It's... okay I guess." said Henry, though he was still put off by the sheer number of mammals in attendance, most of which he was a good deal smaller than. He had to resort to riding on Keene's head to avoid being trampled.

"Seriously? This has gotta be the most crowded year so far." came a small voice from near the ground. "There must be hundreds of mammals here, and not a single one of them wants to volunteer?" It was a mole who looked irritated.

Keene lowered Henry to the ground so that he could talk to the mole more directly. "Volunteering for what?." The mole pointed off to the side. "The stockades over there." Henry and Keene both looked where the mole was pointing, but there were no stockades. "Um, I think they're behind you." said Keene, noticing that there were stocks in the other direction.

"Are they?" said the mole, turning around. "Sorry, I have the eyesight of... well... a mole. Everything looks like a big blurry blob to me. Gotta rely on sense of smell to know who or what anyone is. But, yeah. Those stockades. Normally, we find some volunteers to fill them, but it seems like everyone's got somethin' better to do. Not only that, we were supposed to order one in a dingo size, but the paperwork got mixed up and they accidentally sent us an otter-sized one. I imagine there's an otter renfaire somewhere that's stuck with the one we shoulda got."

Keene nudged Henry forward slightly with his foot. "Hey, you're otter-sized. And it looks like the other stocks are kangaroo-sized." Henry backed away defensively. "Uh, I'm not sure about this. I know what happens to mammals in stocks at these events. Plus we didn't actually bring costumes..." Keene stepped in. "Well I'm willing to do it." Henry turned to Keene in shock. "What? Really?" Keene shrugged. "Okay, so it's not exactly my idea of a good time. But this fair just doesn't seem complete without someone in the stocks. If that someone has to be me, who am I to deny them my feet?"

Henry considered it. "Well, if you're doing it, then I guess I'll join you. Besides, I don't think another otter is going to wander past anytime soon." The mole smiled. "Perfect. And don't worry about costumes. There's loaners at the changing tents over there. They got sizes for every species in Zootopia." He pointed at a booth that was selling fake unicorn horns for little horse girls.
"Uh, I think you meant to point somewhere else." said Henry. "We'll find the tents." said Keene, picking up his friend again. "Great. Oh, and, obviously leave your shoes if you happen to be wearing any." said the Mole.

The changing tents were easy to find, and the loaner costumes were easy to get. They even had a variety of choices. They picked out what was closest to their normal cosplay. Keene got a beige sleeveless tunic and brown pants, Henry a burlap sack and midway trousers. They took these into the tents and swapped them in for their modern clothes. The mole's last words to them didn't apply. They were already barefoot, and stayed barefoot after changing. They came out, and left their other outfits with the loaning attendant.

Soon, their ankles were locked in their respectively-sized stockades, with medieval handcuffs keeping their forepaws behind their backs, for authenticity. The mole finished securing them, and climbed a miniature ladder to the top of the table where attendees were already lining up for a chance to tickle the two "prisoners". "Oh, sure. Everyone wants to be on that side of the equation." groaned Henry.

The mole unraveled a scroll. "These two stand accused of the crime of... uh... I have no idea what this says. Lousy historical accuracy. Why couldn't I get this in braille? Um... they... insulted the king's... toes? Yeah, you all know how self-conscious he gets about his toes. And as punishment, his majesty has ordered the public to tickle their toes. Huh, I didn't plan to come up with a crime that fit the punishment, but that worked out pretty good."

After having trouble cutting the ribbon, the mole got help from the wallaby at the front of the line. And then the stocks were officially open for business. Two pairs of feet to tickle, and more than enough ticklers for them. And those feet had plenty of ticklishness to go around.

It was clear to see that the attendees of this renfaire enjoyed a good tickle stockade. At least, when they were the ones doing the tickling. Anyone who passed by could easily tell that not only were this kangaroo and otter both at high levels of ticklishness, but that the tickles being given to them were also some of the best one might get from random members of the general public.

Though it wasn't completely random. The mammals who tended to gravitate towards these activities were mostly the ones who were good at tickling, and knew perfectly well how good they were. It was basically the only way they could really show off their skills to a large audience. So, of course, they wouldn't pass up a chance to flex their tickling skills for the crowd.

What made the tickles especially strong here was the variety of ticklers giving it out. Outback Island was home to a decent number of species. There were koalas, dingoes, kangaroos, wallabies, and buck-billed-platypuses and those were just the most common ones here. There was an occasional weasel or raccoon or something visiting from the main city. Each of these species was present in this crowd and they all had different forepaws, in different sizes. And this in turn meant that every species did tickling differently. Whenever a tickler left so that the next in line could have their turn, the flavor of the tickle would change.

Further adding to the variety of tickles was the tools provided. Mainly feathers and a variety of brushes in multiple sizes. They weren't quite as popular as just basic finger tickling, mostly because softer tools are only really effective on paw pads where there's no fur in the way. Each tool was like a completely separate type of forepaw doing the tickling. Except the fact that it wasn't a finger tickle made them stand out against the ones who were doing just the basics.

That's not to say that the tools didn't have variety in themselves. The styles of tickling varied even between members of a single species. Some would tickle fast, others would be more slow and methodical. A significant chunk had even mastered multiple methods of tickling, which they would switch up often. Multiply that by the variety of tools and types of forepaws delivering the tickle, and it all came together onto something that constantly kept all four of these ticklish soles guessing. If you believe neuroscientists who study the phenomenon of ticklishness, the element of surprise is the biggest part of what makes a tickle so effective.

Obviously, no one was required to tickle a single pair of paws alone. In fact, a lot of the mammals who came were perfectly content to only tickle a single paw while someone else tickled the other one. Even the ones who wanted to do both paws would use a different tool in each hand. With asymmetry in the type of tickle they felt, it was practically impossible to tune anything out.

Since Henry was small, his feet were naturally not especially large, at least compared to the average citizen of Outback Island. Consequently, his soles didn't have a lot of surface area. One would think that would make them hard to tickle, but he was finding that to be just the opposite. For feet as small as his, a little went a long way. What would only register as a tiny twitch on a larger mammal easily covered the entire height of his paw pad. So with movements that most others would consider only moderately-sized, Henry's entire sole could be flooded with tickles.

Keene's large feet were having the opposite problem. By sharp contrast, a single forepaw could only get a tiny section of his sole at a time. That wouldn't be much of a tickle on it's own. However, since his feet were so big, multiple ticklers could fit their fingers or smaller tools in simultaneously. More things doing the tickling equals more tickles, and Keene's feet had plenty of space. With enough coordination, four ticklers could attack him at one, each covering only half of one of his feet. There was enough space for them to even move the tickle around to cover more ground.

Another thing that was a contrast was their laughter. Like different species provided different kinds of tickle, so too did they provide different reactions. Keene's laughter was loud and deep, a very powerful sound, fitting for the powerful tickle that was causing it. Henry laughed at a more moderate volume, at a higher pitch, with the occasional snort. His was a more cute laughter, the laugher of someone completely overwhelmed by the tickling. But for their differing qualities, both laughs were equally satisfying for the collective amusement of the ones who tickled it out of them.

As the hours slowly ticked past, Keene and Henry actually both grew to enjoy all the tickling. Henry was quite a bit slower to do this than his friend, but it still happened. And the fact that their ticklishness was bringing joy to so many just seemed like the best use for it. It was good that they had decided to stick around and participate in this.

The day went on, and the two friends got no shortage of tickles. But eventually, the fair closed for the night. The mole set them free. Or rather, Henry gave him directions to where his wrists were bound, and he opened the stocks himself, then released Keene. "You two did good." said the mole. "Couldn't see any of it obviously, but I never heard better laughter in my life."

As Henry and Keene started to leave to get their clothes from the tent, they heard the mole moping. "I just hope I can find someone as good as you tomorrow. If I find anyone at all." Henry turned back. "You won't need to." Keene nodded. "Yeah, we'll come back and do it again. As many times as it takes."