The twins have been turned into pussies, itchy slaves.

I was forced onto the "execution platform," my hands tied behind my back in a pillow-head position. The rope was wound around my wrists multiple times, securely fastening my arms to the top of the backrest. This exposed my armpits to the fullest extent, my thin sleeves offering no real defense. My feet were secured in shackles attached to the chair, a heavy lock restricting movement below my calves. Though I couldn't see my feet from my vantage point, a large mirror covering the entire wall in front of me allowed me to see them clearly, and to witness the entire process of myself, dressed in women's clothes, being tickled. It was a design with malicious intent. My face flushed with shame, I twisted my head to look at the floor, awaiting the completion of the "preparations." Finally, my thighs were also secured by ropes extending from small holes in the chair. My legs, bound and wrapped in black stockings, always stirred an instinctive urge, but alas, they were my own, and I was about to face a hellish tickling torment. Helpless, I could only gaze at them with a hint of apology. I tried to move, but apart from my waist and ankles, which had a small range of motion, the rest of my body was rigidly fixed to the chair. Lily brought over a gag and forcibly pinched my lips, forcing my mouth open. The hard plastic ball was then shoved in. The separation of my teeth added to my inner unease, and the muffled "woo woo" sounds were the last resistance I, a fish on the chopping block awaiting slaughter, could offer.