Kat Bishop sat in the village square, her feet securely locked in the stocks, her sneakers and socks tossed aside. She glared playfully at her best friend, Toby, who stood nearby holding two vibrant pink feathers with a mischievous grin.

“Toby, you’re going to regret this,” Kat said, laughing nervously as she tugged at her restraints.

“Oh, come on, Kat,” Toby teased, spinning one of the feathers between his fingers. “You lost the bet, fair and square. Besides, it’s just a little tickling. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Kat huffed and rolled her eyes. “You’ll see when I get out of here.”

Toby smirked and crouched down, positioning the feathers just above Kat’s soft, wiggling soles. “You talk tough now, but let’s see how long you last.”

Without further ado, he swirled the first feather along the arch of her left foot, eliciting an immediate burst of laughter from Kat.

“HAHAHAHA TOBY, NO!” she cried, squirming helplessly. Her toes curled and flexed, trying in vain to evade the relentless ticklish sensation. “I’M GONNA—HAHAHAHA—GET YOU FOR THIS!”

Encouraged by her reaction, Toby alternated between light strokes with the feathers and gentle prods with his fingers. “Wow, Kat, I had no idea you were this ticklish. I think I’ve discovered your secret weakness.”

Kat’s laughter echoed through the square as Toby explored every sensitive spot on her soles, from her heels to the delicate spaces beneath her toes. Her face turned red as tears of laughter streamed down her cheeks. “TOBY, PLEASE! HAHAHA! MERCY!”

But Toby wasn’t ready to stop. “Not until you admit I’m the better gamer,” he said, grinning wickedly.

“NEVER!” Kat shouted, though her resolve was clearly waning under the onslaught of ticklish torment.

After what felt like an eternity (but was probably only a few minutes), Toby finally relented, giving Kat a chance to catch her breath. She glared at him, panting and flushed. “You…are…so…dead.”