The relief of a Saturday morning welcomed Owen the same as it did most people with a 9-to-5 job. Waking up at a reasonable time and being able to wear his boxers around the house instead of putting on a suitable outfit were the kind of simple pleasures he’d grown to appreciate. At 33, he was in the early years of his career in advertising but he’d already started feeling a bit drained by the corporate life. Pressures of deadlines and striving to always perform at 100% were taxing every week but on Saturdays, he was just Owen again with no keyboard to type or bosses to please. 

After plopping down with his bowl of cereal, Owen grabbed the remote and turned the TV on to his cable input, quickly finding a rerun of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air to enjoy as he ate breakfast. “Oh, this is the one where Will takes over that radio show, isn’t it? I remember this” Owen smiled with a splash of nostalgia. “Why does he take over a radio show?” “He’s trying to help make Ashley’s song popular I think” “Oh, sick” Nash answered with a satisfied expression as he too watched the show from his end of the couch, relaxed with his socked feet resting on the coffee table. 

“Nice socks, man” Owen added with a look down at the black crew pair. “Thanks. Some guy got them for me” Nash answered with half as interested of a look at his own feet before relaxing into a cheeky smirk toward the TV, knowing Owen was watching. Owen chuckled a bit to himself with another spoonful of cereal as the sitcom continued in front of them, dividing his attention between the TV and Nash’s size 12s casually, occasionally rubbing against each other. The socks were indeed very nice, an expensive athletic brand with white rings near the tops and a simple white design on the soles that wrinkled a little every time Nash’s feet were feeling neighborly toward each other on the coffee table. 

Despite their shared enjoyment of the 90s TV show, Owen and Nash seemed like total opposites, like the kind of contrasting guys that got randomly sorted into a college dorm room together. Owen had a head full of well-groomed, dirty blonde hair with the physique of Shaggy from Scooby-Doo. Not quite preppy, but always very put together and a bit on the uptight side, Owen indeed looked like an office guy on the weekend. Nash had somewhat shaggy, deep red hair that couldn’t be hidden under the hat he wore backwards. He too was on the slim side but with broad shoulders and a bit of a pudge to his belly as well as wider hips for someone of his build. Tattoos decorated his arms and some of his thighs and he even had a small one on the side of his neck, with most of the assortment on display in just the basketball jersey and shorts and socks that Saturday morning. He wasn’t quite as pale as most gingers though, instead with just a touch of sun to his skin and a light sprinkling of freckles on his cheeks. 

Owen soon finished his cereal and walked over to the apartment kitchen, setting the bowl in the dish washer and taking a few gulps of orange juice from the carton. He stood there for a minute in just his boxers and t-shirt as he watched the end of the episode and Nash turned toward him from the couch, “So, are you going on another date with that accountant today?” “Nope, not today” “Don’t tell me you struck out with another one; he was hot, man” Nash halfway teased before turning back to face the TV, unaware that he’d hit a bit of a nerve with Owen. “Hey, Nash, put your arms up” Owen instructed. “Yeah, sure” Nash casually answered before putting his arms straight above his head and Owen walked over to straddle his legs on the couch so he was sitting on his knees facing Nash. 

“Wait! Dude, I was just joking!” “Keep em’ up” “I’m sure that guy was lame! Come on, don’t tickle me!” Nash protested without ever moving his arms, leaving his pale pits wide open. “Yeah, he was fucking lame” Owen confirmed before diving into both armpits with wiggling fingers. “NOAoohAOH!! AOhAOHoOWWEEEnNAhA! OAhAOHIIMmSSoOoRRyYAHAH!!” “Too late, man…you brought this on yourself” Owen assured as he strummed through the dark brown hair and watched Nash suffer in front of him with overflowing laughter, bubbly, and addictively entertaining to listen to. 

Nash’s long legs kicked a bit behind Owen and his hair bounced around as he sat in place, not actually trying to get away from his tickler. Owen quickly began playing with various levels of Nash’s reaction, teasing his hair one minute and drilling into the depths of both pits the next to bend the charismatic laughter to his will. Every move he made in the barely scented underarms got a reaction out of Nash and Owen knew that, milking the wonderfully ticklish armpits as the handsome redhead argued and whined beneath him. “OOoWWeeEnNAohANNoOMMOORREAhA!! iIiCCAAnNTtTTAAkKEEiIiITT!!” “What are you gonna do about it, huh?” Owen taunted with a devious smile as he dominated the armpits with undisputed ease, happily tormenting the inked 30-something with each stroke of his fingers. 

It wasn’t until Owens’ phone started ringing that the tickle torture ended, pulling the blonde’s attention away from his current focus. “Nash, pause” Owen announced and Nash’s giant smile froze in place in the same expression and his arms remained above his head without any intention of clamping down to protect his wildly ticklish pits. Owen walked over to take the call and reminded his parents that he was coming to town next weekend, not this one. When he ended the call, he walked back over to Nash and returned to his position straddling him. “Nash, continue” he announced before plunging his fingers back into the exposed pits. 

“AhAhAHASSHHIITt!! PPLLLLEEASSESAhAHA!! NOoMMoOoREETTiiCCKKlIINnGGBBrROHOO!!” Nash begged as he came back to life without missing a beat, right back to laughing his head off and trying to get Owen to abandon his tickle attack. “No more tickling where?” Owen asked. “AhoAHMMyYyAARrmMMPpIiITTsSS!!” “Why?” “TTThHEeyYRRETTOO TTTiICCKKLLLIiSshhAHA!!” Nash admitted like he didn’t want to spell it out for Owen. “You say that like that’s the only spot…you know I know everywhere that you’re ticklish, right?” Owen reminded with a devilish gleam in his eye before jumping down to his ribs with wider fingers. “NoAohAOhA!! OOKoOhOhOOK!!” “See what I mean?” Owen pointed out while vibrating into the tender ribs and watching Nash squirm under him without any actual attempt at escaping or fighting back. 

“AALLRIiIGGghHTT!! AohAOYyYOOuUWWIIiNN!! AOhAOHJJuuSSST STTohOHoPPTiIiCcKKLLIinNGGMMEeehe…low power” “Shit! How do I keep forgetting to charge you?” Owen complained as Nash shut down and his arms fell and his expression muted. Owen reached around the couch and grabbed the power cable before inserting it into Nash’s neck, making sure the light turned on to let him know it’d actually been plugged in right. “Well, I guess I’ll hop in the shower instead” Owen decided as he left Nash charging in the living room and let his underwear drop before turning on the shower. 

Nash was an android. More specifically, Nash was a ‘Tickle Partner’, a highly-advanced artificial intelligence combined with cutting-edge robotics. Tickle Partners was a company Owen’s advertising firm had worked with and despite the two companies not being able to see a deal all the way through, Owen purchased a Tickle Partner of his own. Tickle Partners were fully customizable androids for tickle enthusiasts. Its ability to be personalized is what helped sell most of its customers on making such a hefty purchase and Owen was just as wowed by the capabilities as anyone else. 

The customizable characteristics offered a fully unique Tickle Partner. Gender, age, height, weight, body type, skin color, hair color, eye color, personality type, language spoken, hairiness, attractiveness, intelligence, aggression, strength, clothes, affection, self-awareness, shoe size, and natural body odor smell among other things were all available to be adjusted. Not only that but tickle-specific aspects were also options like most ticklish areas, type of laugh, attitude toward tickling, reactions to tickling, etc. Every detail was customized when ordered but there was a manual control of which mode the Tickle Partner would be in; Ticklee, Tickler, or Switch. Ticklee was set by default but could be changed at any time. 

In Nash’s case, he was set to ticklee and by Tickle Partner design, listened to whatever Owen said. He could tickle Nash however and whenever he wanted for however long the battery would permit. It cut out the need for actual human interaction to feed a tickle monster like Owen and in truth, Tickle Partners were almost scarily human-like. No physical or mental aspect of a well-designed Tickle Partner was like that of an android, leaving Nash seeming just as human as his owner, like his actual roommate if one didn’t know any better. Attributes specific to Nash other than his appearance were things like his cliché skater/stoner characteristics, his dislike of being tickled, his supreme ticklishness, his snarky attitude, his half-way flirtatious dynamic with Owen, his extra-soft feet, and his precisely curated mix of frustration and reluctance but eventual surrender when being tickled. His ticklish spots had also been tailored specifically to Owen’s liking, helping to make Nash his perfect creation.  

The steam filled the bathroom and spilled out into the living room while Nash sat recharging with his eyes closed and his socked feet no longer casually wrinkling like before. Owen typically closed the door to the bathroom when showering but for whatever reason hadn’t today, leaving his Tickle Partner to sit silently near the bathroom until his owner walked back out. His clean, bare feet rested on the floor of the bathroom and he wrapped a towel around his waist after drying off. A simple grooming run-through took less than three minutes in the mirror and Owen stepped into the living room to see a green light glowing from Nash’s inked neck. “They weren’t kidding about that fast recharge time, were they?” Owen laughed before walking over to his robotic roommate and unplugging him, too distracted by Nash to even get dressed first. 

“Nash, wake up” Owen instructed and his eyes opened and his stiff body language relaxed to how he was before on the couch. “What’s up, man? Nice nips” Nash teased at the sight of a shirtless Owen, making him laugh. “Nash, pick a number between 1 and 100 but don’t tell me what it is” Owen instructed. “Yeah, alright. I’ve got it” “You’re gonna keep that number a secret. You do not want me to know that number” Owen laid out. “Don’t get your panties bunched up, bro, I won’t tell you” Nash laughingly answered like he didn’t understand why it mattered. “Great” Owen grinned before grabbing Nash’s left leg and hoisting it up in the air to hold it by the ankle. 

“What are you doing??” “I’m gonna make you tell me that number” Owen answered as he grabbed the edge of the black sock and began to peel it away, curling down Nash’s mildly hairy leg until his rosy heel was exposed. “No, come on! You just told me not to tell you!” “And you don’t want to tell me. If you tell me that number, you’re a fucking pussy” Owen assured like he was establishing a label for Nash that a real guy like him wouldn’t want. “What? You’re a fucking pussy!” Nash fired back with a playful attitude as the rest of his sock slipped off and his pristine, perfectly manufactured foot was revealed. 

A blue and green tattoo sat on the top of his pale foot toward the middle, contrasting the hints of pink peaking out between his slender toes. His soles were made to Owen’s preferred proportions with wide, strong balls and a higher than average arch that was creamy enough to be a scoop of frosting. His toes weren’t chunky or overly plump but just juicy enough so they fit against each other beautifully while his heels remained a mouthwatering mix of pink and peach, soft enough to make the most cushiony hand Owen had ever shook seem weathered. 

“Owen, seriously! Don’t be a dick right now!” Nash protested without ever trying to pull his foot away. “Tell me the number then” Owen answered with a direct contradiction to the terms he’d just laid out for Nash. “No, fuck you, man!” “Oh yeah?” Owen challenged before his fingertips landed at the base of the plush toes and dragged down the length of the entire sole, igniting the kind of uproar he never got tired of hearing. “OoHoaHFFUhuUCCKAHA! NNooAOH!” Nash argued like the initial wave of tickling was too brutal to withstand another, almost shocked by how bad it was but Owen raked down the velvet sole again, this time with a little more pressure and speed to make Nash go a bit wilder. “OhOHMmyYYGGOoODAoha!! SSTThOHOPP!!” Nash shouted with stressed eyes and a forced smile while his other leg floundered a bit and his fists clenched the couch cushions. 

“Tell me the number then!” Owen demanded before focusing just on where the balls met the toes and scratching with tight, unforgiving drags across the unbelievably supple target. “AAAHAHAHANNOAOhAOAH!! DDuUuHUDDEE!!” Nash couldn’t help but shriek with newfound intensity and started pounding into the couch and his toes wiggled in place but never in defense. Nash’s bouncy hair flew around and his magnetic smile shined bright while Owen indulged in the kind of tickling he likely never would’ve been able to get with a human roommate. “Tell me the number or I’m gonna be a real asshole!” Owen warned. “IIiCCAHAANnNNTT!!” Nash tried to assure as he overflowed with laughter but Owen didn’t care. “Alright” Owen answered like he’d been given no choice but to amp things up before taking the toes in one hand and cradling the heel in the other, giving Nash only a moment of peace before he started. 

“NO! Owen, don’t do that!! Please!!” Nash begged with dread in his voice before Owen started munching on his strong arch, using his teeth to nibble back and forth and licking along the middle of the heavenly sole like it was his favorite snack of all time. “NNOAohAOhAOHAAAOHAOHA!!!!” Nash screamed with the kind of laughter that would’ve humiliated most human men like him in real life, wrecked by the fiendish tickle technique. The two throw pillows flew off the couch and Nash dissolved into a floundering mess on the couch who couldn’t control his laughter, perfectly manipulated by the terribly ticklish mouth devouring his foot. 

“Tell me the number and I’ll stop” Owen took a breath to remind just to make Nash fight with himself to end the tickling or lose the ambiguously significant battle Owen had initiated between them. “NNOOAOHA!! JJuUhuSSTTAOHASSTToOoPP TTiICCkKLLIINnGGmMMEEahAHA!!” Nash howled like he’d been built to do and reacted in the way he’d been programmed to. Things were going just fine until a sudden flash across Nash’s eyes silenced his laughter and he stopped squirming around on the couch, surprising Owen. “What the hell? What happened? You can’t be dead already” Owen assessed as he moved closer but hadn’t seen the momentary light come across Nash’s eyes or notice the mode tab flip on its own from ‘ticklee’ to ‘tickler’. 

Unbeknownst to Owen, the steam from his shower earlier had gotten to Nash, affecting his various internal systems and opening the door for malfunctions. That, combined with the conflicting commands weaved into the tickling was enough to cause issues his owner hadn’t foreseen. The major reason Owen’s employer hadn’t ended up working with Tickle Partners to begin with were the potential for unwanted behaviors and concern over seemingly autonomous Partners, as Owen was about to experience first-hand. 

“How about I tickle you, huh? You like tickling the shit out of me…I think it’s your turn” Nash announced a few seconds later with an expression shift as he grabbed Owen and shoved him onto the rest of the couch so he was on his back. “Hey! What are you doing?? You’re on ticklee mode!” Owen tried to make sense of as his robotic roommate slipped between his legs and dove right into his exposed stomach. “AAhaAHA!! NOooho! NnOAohAOHA!! SSSTToHOHPP! NNAahaSShh! SSTTohOPPP!” Owen tried to direct but Nash wasn’t under his control like before, now focused on daggering into his soft belly and his lower sides. 

“Look who’s ticklish!” Nash taunted with a flash of the smile Owen usually loved seeing. “CcOHMMEEooHOHOnNn! TTuURRNNooOoFF!!” “The only guys you’re turning off are your dates” Nash answered with a stinging blow to Owen’s ego as the half-naked advertising agent tried to block the hands but Nash was proving as good of a tickler as he was a ticklee, moving too fast and with too much strength for Owen to counter. “Let’s put those arms up!” Nash announced with a twist on his previous command as he grabbed Owen’s arms and forced them over his head before pinning them down with one hand. “NO! Nash - I’m ordering you to stop!” Owen tried his best to regain control as his armpits sat like sitting targets. “I’m not your fucking dog, man” Nash grinned with delight in turning the tables on Owen as he sank into the right armpit first and cranked Owen’s laughter right back up. 

“OOOhAOHohSSHhIiItTTAohAOhA!! NNOOh! NNOoaOHA!!” Owen tried and failed to object with his bare feet kicking the other end of the couch and his un-toned arms struggling to fight Nash off. The malfunctioning ginger jumped back and forth between Nash’s naked pits, somehow digging in and spidering around in the exceptionally vulnerable hollows at the same time and showing the tickle lover just how ticklish he was himself. “EeNNOoOuUGGhH!! NnahASSSHH SSHHuUttDDOOowWWnn!” Owen shouted again through his heavy laughter, fearing his commands may not even be understandable through the forced laughter but either way, Nash wasn’t backing down. 

It was around now that Owen noticed Nash’s switch wasn’t set where it normally was, explaining the total change in behavior. But how would he fix it with Nash hellbent on tickling him senseless? Owen barely had time to try and think of a plan of action before his most expensive purchase ever stood up on the couch and took his legs with him, wrapping Owen’s ankles up in a headlock so they were in the air near Nash’s chest. “Nash, flip your switch back! This is wrong!” “Is this what a pussy sounds like?” Nash questioned like he understood what the term’s usage meant enough to take another dig at Owen before breaking into a scribbling attack all over the lean 11s at his mercy. 

“NnAAAHahASSSHOHAOHA!!” Owen burst with another uncontrollable wave of laughter as the short, fake nails scratched across his peachy balls and his towel fell further down his thighs. “Not as soft as mine but pretty smooth though” Nash added with a shit-eating grin while terrorizing the pair of sensitive soles and putting his tickler setting to use while Owen bucked and shrieked below him on the couch. The Tickler Partner owner knew he’d lost control and wasn’t knowledgeable enough on any mode other than ticklee to know how to end the tickle tirade. The one time he’d managed to turn Nasho on him was when he had full battery so he also knew low power mode wasn’t on the horizon, motivating Owen to try and make the only move he could think might work. 

Hurling himself off the couch, Owen managed to yank his feet free from Nash and tried to stand up once he was on the floor but wasn’t fast enough, allowing Nash to catch up to him and flip him over. “Where are you going?” Nash teased while using one knee to pin Owen’s arm down and trying to grab the other to mimic the pin. Owen knew if he managed to lock his other arm down, his plan was screwed and Nash would likely tickle him to tears but with one last-minute dash, Owen reached up and hit Nash’s switch. 

Nash stopped trying to mount him but his knee didn’t let his arm go, leaving Owen in suspense as he realized he’d only changed him to ‘tickle switch’ mode. “Nash…?” “Yeah, that’s my name” Nash answered with a friendlier disposition. Owen wasn’t sure what to do but Nash wasn’t on the offensive anymore and the switch mode was new to him too, convincing the blonde to squeeze Nash’s sides. “AhAHANnoAOh!” Nash erupted like he always did but wasn’t so passive this time, trying to pull Owen’s hands away as he watched him react from below. After only about 10 seconds, Owen intentionally let his grip loosen and watched Nash take the opportunity to wiggle into his ribs, rekindling Owen’s laughter. 

The lack of Nash’s tickle monster side and return of his playful attitude yielded the first ever tickle fight between him and Owen, with both guys exchanging raspberries and hip squeezes and sole scribbles for the next 30 minutes. Owen had thought having his own roommate to tickle whenever he wanted was the best thing ever but it became apparent as the laughter-filled battle continued that being on the receiving side could be just as fun. Maybe a personalized ticklee isn’t what he wanted after all. Maybe he really needed a tickle partner.