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Peter Pan’s Greatest Challenge

by Dorain

This story is a work of fiction. It involves bondage and tickling of minor boys by minor girls. This story is entirely non-sexually oriented. The characters portrayed within are not the property of the author, but are used in a non-profit manner within the realm of Fan Fiction. These events never actually occurred, except, perhaps, within the imagination of someone, somewhere, sometime. The author of this story was inspired by the image of Jeremy Sumpter portraying the role of Peter Pan, and Jamie Williams (“The Jungle Book”) portraying the role of Hard-To-Hit. Dorain©2003

“I win!” cried out Peter and Hard-To-Hit at the same time, as they tagged the tree which the very bored and weary Wendy Darling and Princess Tiger-Lily leaned against.

“No, I got here first!” insisted Peter as he hovered in the air above the young Indian brave, waving a Neverbird’s tail-feather at him. Peter had sneaked up on the infamously wary bird, native to Never-Neverland, and snatched the long, colourful plume from it as his test in this current, and seemingly endless series of dares between himself and the proud young indian boy, Hard-To-Hit.

“You did not!” retorted the other boy back, waving a parrot’s tail feather back at the Eternal Youth. Hard-To-Hit had used his canoe to sneak aboard the Jolly Roger during the day, and plucked a tail-feather from Captain Hook’s ever-present pet, Polly, and escaped while the rancorous bird protested its depluming with a pungent stream of pirate epithets.

“Your feet still haven’t touched the ground, so I win!” Hard-To-Hit asserted, smugly.

“My feet never touch the ground!” Peter bragged, swinging his legs forward and mockingly wiggling his bare toes at his rival.

Wendy sighed as the two boys shot their conflicting claims of victory and glory back and forth, thumbs and fists pounding and thumping on their thin, bare chests in their boyish passion for One-Upmanship.

“Do they usually do this for long, Tiger-Lily?” she asked her equally bored companion.

The dainty indian girl sighed and nodded back. “I’ve seen them do this for over a week, once.”

“Peter! We were supposed to be here with Tiger-Lily and Hard-To-Hit for a picnic!” she protested.

“And we’ll have our picnic,” Peter insisted, shooting her one of his best grins, “as soon as Hard-To-Hit admits he lost!” the charismatic youth added, cheerfully.

“I did not lose, Peter Pan!” the indian boy huffed. “I challenge you to a new bet, to prove it!”

“Here we go!” sigh Tiger-Lily, rolling her eyes.

“You’re on!” Peter shot back.

“Peter!” Wendy exclaimed, exasperated. “Our picnic!”

“Right after this last bet, Wendy,” the sandy-haired youngster assured her, eyes glinting eagerly at the challenge.

“Fine! But we pick the bet,” Tiger-Lily interrupted, a smile tugging the corner of her lips. Wendy looked over at her friend, and could see that they teenage girl had something planned.

“Agreed!” Peter and Hard-To-Hit said, as one, trying to stare-down each other.

Tiger-Lily smirked at the two boys. She had just recalled something in common about both of them, and concocted an idea that would at least take the wind out of their sails for a while, if it didn’t put to rest this rivalry long enough for them to have their planned picnic. Both her stubborn little tribesmate, and the proud boy who would never grow up were bare-chested, as they always were; but where Peter wore only short breeches that the fairy Tinkerbell had woven for him from leaves when she first brought him here to Never-Neverland, Hard-To-Hit wore the standard fare for young indian braves — a loincloth and soft moccasins. Both were quite well suited for the test she had decided to set for them.

After whispering her plan to Wendy, eliciting a giggle from the brunette girl, Tiger-Lily stood up, and began cutting lengths of vine from the tree, as she explained her challenge to the two ego-blinded boys.

“My father told me once of a test that our people once used when two warriors couldn’t decide between the two of them which was the greatest. He said that this ritual is sacred to our people, and never failed to determine the best between them. It was a challenge of courage, bravery and endurance that would mean great glory for the winner, and yet still get many accolades for the other, for showing the strength and will to take the test in the first place. This will definitely decide the issue, once and for all!”

Peter and Hard-To-Hit looked at each other, swallowing a bit, nervously, but determined not to let the other see how much the indian princess’s words affected him. Her father, Great-Big-Little-Panther, was very wise in the ways of these things, and both of them dreamed of the imposing chief congratulating him for besting his rival in this contest… whatever it was.

Their masculine pride buoyed them through the process of Wendy and Tiger-Lily firmly, yet carefully binding their hands behind their backs with lengths of vine. They shot boastful claims of impending victory at each other while the two girls crossed their ankles and tied them together securely as well. Soon, they laid side by side on the grass, smug grins on their faces as they looked to the girls to hear what they had to do.

Wendy kneeled down astride Hard-To-Hit’s thighs as Tiger-Lily did likewise for Peter. The dark-skinned girl smiled sweetly at helpless boy.

“The test is simple,” she asserted. “The first one to say ‘Uncle’, loses!”

Peter and Hard-To-Hit looked at each other in confusion, not understanding what she meant... until the two girls’ fingers touched their slim, bare ribs. Then, the horror of their situation came to them in waves of niggling little tingles that the females’ fingertips and nails shot through their sides with each light, gliding motion.

Peter bit his lower lip as he struggled to hold back from giggling. Tiger-Lily knew just how hopelessly ticklish he was. She had frequently used ticklish pokes to his bare stomach or soles to get his attention when he got distracted by something; which he frequently did. Now, he couldn’t even flinch away as the indian princess probed his helpless ribs and skated her nails along his taut stomach.

Hard-To-Hit was in no better shape. Wendy had received a quick crash-course in the most ticklish places and techniques on the indian boy, and she was putting that knowledge to devastating effect. Her fingernails slid around and between his ribs where they jutted out invitingly, making Hard-To-Hit clench his toes in his moccasins in an attempt to steel his resolve. But, when her fingers wormed into the crease between his sides and arms, his brown eyes nearly bugged out from the tickling sensations — and she still hadn’t even reached his armpits, yet!

Peter clenched his eyes shut and sealed his lips, but was unable to keep snorting giggles from escaping as Tiger-Lily lightly scratched her nails all around his stomach. High-pitched squeals threatened to burst the hold he had on his full-out laughter whenever she wiggled her finger in his shallow navel. Finally, he could withstand it no more, because the indian girl moved down to just above his waist, alternating light scratches and deep probing along his waistline and onto his flanks.

“Noooooo!! Heeheeheehee! Tiger-Lilyyyyy!! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-haaaa! Don’t tickle mee-hee-hee-hee-hee-hee!!” the boy pleaded.

“Oh? Going to say ‘Uncle’, and let Hard-To-Hit win?” she teased.

Peter looked into her eyes, and saw no sign of mercy in them. He knew he had no choice but to withstand, and try to outlast Hard-To-Hit.

Unbeknownst to Peter, little Hard-To-Hit didn’t feel close to victory at all. Wendy Darling had forced him to unleash his ticklish protests as deep belly laughs when her fingers slipped into his hairless underarms and started writhing like frantic little worms. Tiger-Lily loved to get him there whenever he was lifting rocks to show off his strength to other indian boys. The result was always Hard-To-Hit dropping the rock and folding up on the ground in helpless giggles. Now, Wendy had control of his tender armpits; her fingers held securely in that vulnerable area due to his bonds holding his arms tight to his sides.

“Noooo! No-no-no-no-no-no-no-no-nononono-hohohohooooo! Pleeeeeeezzz!!” he begged; but Wendy had decided that she’d had more than enough of this rivalry, and she was going to make sure that Hard-To-Hit was going to think twice before letting his and Peter’s male pride interrupt a planned event with her again!

Nearly ten minutes passed with the two girls gobbling up Peter’s and Hard-To-Hit’s bare sides, chest, stomachs and underarms with tickle after tickle after tickle, but still, neither stubborn boy had uttered the surrender word. They had started to sweat, making their smooth skin slick, letting the girls’ fingers and nails move faster and faster over their torsos, causing even more unbearable tickling to them, and yet their fierce competitiveness kept them from relenting. Wendy was fascinated by just how much these two seemed ready to endure, just for the sake of being able to say that they were not the one that gave up. She didn’t think she’d ever understand just how a boy’s mind worked!

Looking to each other, Wendy and Tiger-Lily silently agreed that their captives needed a break, so they lifted their fingers, much to the boys’ panting relief; but they laughingly promised much more to come. They stood up and stretched their backs, before falling to whispering to each other as Peter and Hard-To-Hit caught their breaths. True to form, as soon as they had calmed down enough to talk, the boasts and taunts quickly started again.

“Feeling weak, Hard-To-Hit? I’ll bet you’ll surrender in an instant, rather than take any more!” Peter crowed as he did his best not to show how much even the lingering phantom sensations of Tiger-Lily’s fingers were still wearing away at him.

“Not even close, Peter Pan! I could do this all day, no problem!” Hard-To-Hit shot back, privately hoping that neither girl was actually paying attention to his boast. He was way too ticklish to take any more of this. Only his determination to beat Peter prevented him from crying out “Uncle” long ago.

“Well, so can I!” Peter shot back. “In fact, I could take this all day and night, without even breaking a sweat!” he boasted, despite the obvious evidence that he was already sweating quite a bit.

“Oh, yeah? Well, they could tickle me for two whole days, before I’d give in to the likes of you, Pan!” the indian boy retorted.

Wendy and Tiger-Lily looked back at the boys and rolled their eyes as the unrealistic boasts became yet another challenge to the stubborn youths.

“I think these two could use something else to do with their voices, don’t you, Wendy?” Tiger-Lily asked as she walked over to Hard-To-Hit.

“Oh, most definitely,” Wendy agreed as she smiled down at Peter with a wicked smile — a smile that only females seemed to have; reserved for those times when they had ticklish boys at their mercy.

Peter swallowed nervously as the English girl knelt down across his legs again, this time over his shins, facing his bare feet. He couldn’t help but clench his toes in fearful anticipation. Since he always flew everywhere, his feet almost never touched the ground — as Hard-To-Hit had pointed out before. That was the reason why he had never bothered being anything but barefoot. He had no need to protect his feet from stones and twigs. Unfortunately, that resulted in his soles being very soft and quite sensitive to touch. He couldn’t even imagine the depths of ticklishness she was about to subject his poor feet to, but his active imagination was certainly making sure that he was expecting the worst!

Hard-To-Hit was whimpering softly as Tiger-Lily pinned down his tied legs with her weight, and proceeded to very slowly wiggle and slide first one, then the other moccasin off his tan feet. The young indian was always very careful to keep his wide feet protected and hidden from view, since his tender soles were very ticklish. Only a very few people at the village knew that. Unfortunately, Tiger-Lily was one of those people. She had made a habit of tickling his feet and toes frequently when he was a young child. And now, she had his helpless, bare soles at her mercy again — a predicament that filled him with dread!

The two girls grinned at each other, and coordinated their efforts. Peter and Hard-To-Hit each felt a single fingernail sloooowly slide up the middle of both soles, making their toes clench reflexively, and bringing squeaks of repressed giggling from them both. Those fingers then reversed their paths, making them groan and whimper. The slow finger-dragging started up again, beginning on their soft heels, and the two boys whined a bit, expecting this slow, nagging torture to continue endlessly. No, that was far from Tiger-Lily’s and Wendy’s minds. As soon as their fingers reached the middle of the arches, all of their fingers exploded into a flurry of motion, dancing a staccato jig of ticklish torment all over the four defenceless feet.

The boys shrieked in response, and launched into paroxysms of hysterical laughter, shaking their heads back in forth in protest to the torment of their tender soles. The girls improvised at this point, each letting their own instincts guide their delightful manipulation of the wiggling, writhing, scrunching feet.

Tiger-Lily knew exactly where Hard-To-Hit’s squirmy feet were most ticklish, and she dove right for those hot-spots. She stuck her fingers between his toes, and teased the delicate webbing between them. She danced her fingers like a tickly little spider over his round heels, bringing delicious howls and chortles of laughter from her tribemate. Her fingers swirled in circles around his arches, making his whole body buck and twist in fruitless attempts to escape. The delicate gliding of her nails along the tops of his feet and around his ankle bones sent him into gales of silent, tear-riddled laughter. And yet, he never signaled his surrender!

Wendy didn’t have the insight into Peter’s vulnerabilities like Tiger-Lily did with Hard-To-Hit, but she did have two younger brothers to hone her tickling technique on. Grabbing the dancing toes of Peter’s right foot, she eased them back, tightening his arches and exposing the base of his cute digits to her gaze. Scratching the taut, velvet-like arch of his foot brought squeals and begging from Peter reminiscent of John’s reactions when Wendy would subject his pale feet to that same technique. Teasing under and between his precious toes made Peter blast out waves of heavy belly-laughs and giggles, just like little Michael would when she did the same thing to his tiny little toes. Sliding her long nails down the outside edge of his immobilized foot made poor Peter mewl, plead, laugh and buck like nothing else, though. She alternated between that sensitive spot, and teasing his entire sole for several minutes, bringing tears of laughter to the eyes of the Eternal Youth. But he refused to utter the word, “Uncle”, no matter how many times she playfully urged him to do so.

Ten minutes of merciless foot-tickling didn’t bring a surrender from either boy, despite their obvious inability to withstand this little competition inflicted upon them by Tiger-Lily. Peter’s left foot proved to be just as vulnerable to Wendy’s touches as his right one was, driving the dirty-blonde berserk with musical laughter and giggles. Although the boys were still fully wrapped in their ceaseless rivalry, the girls didn’t seem to mind much at the moment. At least Peter’s and Hard-To-Hit’s attentions were fully focused on them, for a change.

After giving the two ticklish competitors another breather, Tiger-Lily and Wendy decided it was time to bring this to an end. How fortunate that Peter and Hard-To-Hit had thought fit to bring them just the things they needed to finally break the stubbornness of these two friends and rivals.

“No! No, not that!” Peter begged when he saw Tiger-Lily pick up the Neverbird Feather he had retrieved, and move over to kneel over his thighs again. He didn’t know whether that feather could really be worse than the fingers and nails of the two girls, but he had a horrible feeling that the indian girl would certainly find a way to make that long, wispy tool tickle him out of his mind.

“Wendy-girl, please!” Hard-To-Hit whimpered, using the Lost Boys’ frequent term for her when he saw her pick up Polly’s tail-feather. “I always liked you best. You don’t want to do that to me, do you?” His voice jumped up an octave when she gathered his bound feet into her lap, and secured them down with another length of vine tied to a sturdy root in the ground. “P-Please! I’ll give you the most beautiful necklace you’ve ever seen if you don’t use that feather on me!”

“Scoundrel! Coward!” protested Peter. “If you’re so scared of a little feather, then say ‘Uncle’ and declare me the winner!”

“I’ll never give you the satisfaction, Peter Pan!” Hard-To-Hit shot back, his pride stung by Peter’s words.

“Then let’s get back to the ritual,” Peter said resolutely.

Both Peter and Hard-To-Hit regretted their obstinacy the moment the girls began. Tiger-Lily started sweeping the Neverbird feather in a broad circle around Peter’s stomach, making the exhausted boy break into helpless giggles and laughter again. The firm, yet delicate texture of the feather along his skin nagged at his near-depleted resolve. Inside his head, he was screaming, “Uncle! Uncle! Uncle!” over and over again, but his pride drove him to refuse defeat. Gamely, he continued his tired giggling as the indian lass painted broad sweeps of ticklishness over his stomach.

“Uuuuunn-nnahh-hah-hah-hah-hahhhhh!” Peter shrieked, nearly uttering the fateful word when the feather tip dipped into his belly button, purling around endlessly in that sensitive cavity despite his useless attempts to worm away from it.

Hard-To-Hit squealed, giggled, burbled and begged when Wendy ran the parrot feather between two of his bubble-like toes. He clenched his feet tight, hoping to foil that devastating technique, and force the girl to resort to a slightly less intolerable form of tickling, but Wendy merely used the fingers of her free hand to gently, but relentlessly force his toes apart, one pair at a time, so she could sweep the feather around and between Hard-To-Hit’s toes to her heart’s content. The indian lad laughed and writhed on the ground, unable to stand the sensations. Nothing had ever tickled him like that before, ever. He didn’t think that anyone had ever suffered such mindless, inhuman tickling in all of time. Desperately, he tried to cry out “Uncle”, but the girl’s relentless toying with his toes had robbed him of his voice. He could only gasp silently in complete hysteria, forced to suffer, due to the very torment he wished to end preventing him from signalling his surrender. The attendant frustration sent him into a world of unending ticklishness, making him lose track of everything except the stimulation of his toes, and his own forced reactions to it.

As Wendy enjoyed herself, tickling Hard-To-Hit’s toes to complete and utter distraction, oblivious to his thoughts of surrender, Tiger-Lily moved the Neverbird feather up to tease Peter’s chest and neck, preparing to perform what she was sure would be his ticklish undoing.

Peter calmed down a little as the feather left his navel; much to his relief. The steady giggles and chortles the current tickling was eliciting was a relief after that last technique. The tickling of his belly-button somehow seemed to trigger nightmarish reflections of that sensation all over his body, as if that vulnerable depression were the very epicentre of his ticklishness. He opened his eyes just in time to see Tiger-Lily lean forward, pursing her lips.

“Nooo!! Unclllllle...AAIIIIEEEEEE-HEE-HEE-HEE HAHAHAHAAAAAA!” he bellowed as she blew a long, bubbly raspberry right over his navel. Tiger-Lily smiled proudly at Peter Pan’s capitulation, stopping her tickling.

Yet, at the same time, Wendy finished her second pass on Hard-To-Hit’s toes with the feather, and during that brief respite, during which she was planning her next torment, the indian gasped out “U-Uncle...”; at the exact same time as Peter.

Tiger-Lily and Wendy looked at each other and giggled, letting the tickle-devastated boys gasp gratefully for their lost breaths.

“Looks like you two tied again!” Wendy smirked as she released Hard-To-Hit’s ankles from the vine holding them down. Although he half-expected more tickling when he felt the girl’s hands on his feet again, he was relieved to feel just a firm, massage-like rub, soothing away the worst of the lingering tickles.

“Not a problem,” Tiger-Lily assured the two. “Once you two catch your second wind, we can just start again from the top, until we have a definite winner.”

Peter and Hard-To-Hit desperately whimpered out their protests that it was unnecessary, their vehemence making the two girls burst into laughter.

“D-Didn’t we come out here for a picnic?” Peter asked, changing the subject. He sighed in relief when the indian princess started a soothing rub on his chest and stomach, easing the nagging little ghost-tickles from his torso.

“Yes, we did. How good of you to remember,” Wendy replied with obvious grace, an amused grin still on her face.

It took only a few minutes for Tiger-Lily and Wendy to release Peter and Hard-To-Hit from the vines, teasing them with quick tickles from time to time as they did. Too exhausted to care, the boys giggled with good humour, sitting up and massaging their wrists and ankles once free.

The contest was obviously good for their appetites. They heartily helped themselves to the endless supply of “pretend” food in the basket; magically made real and quite delicious by their juvenile imaginations and wondrous nature of Never-Neverland itself.

“Bet I can eat more cake than you!” Peter boasted before long.

“No Lost Boy can outdo an Indian Brave when it comes to cake-eating, Pan!” Hard-To-Hit shot back.

Wendy and Tiger-Lily sighed and chuckled to each other, shaking their heads with amused tolerance as the two boys were quickly engaged in yet another contest between them. Nothing would ever satisfy the eternal rivalry between those two friends.


The End

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