"I'm a Good Tickle Toy!"
Tickle Toy's helpless feet are dangling off the edge of the Thomasville, her arms are cuffed over her head, and her eyes are kept shut under layers of bandaging to keep her from guess what's coming next - even though she already knows it's going to be "more tickling." But as a Good Tickle Toy, she just sits there, does her best to keep still, and takes it - laughing, pleading, and weakly protesting the whole time. When the oil and the gloves come out, she shrieks with happy laughter and cries out about how horrible they are while I drag the little rubber tips along her sensitive soles. That spot just under her big toe? She LOVES when I pay special attention to it with my fingertips. Eventually, she confesses her deepest truth under my interrogating hands: admitting that she's a "Good Tickle Toy."