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If you would like to take advantage of timed exclusives like this or even exclusives. I encourage you to support my Patreon!

Patreon! Anyma, The Tickle Terrorist!
---------

Anyma: Even She makes mistakes
Anyma: Especially when she's tired
Anyma: ...Uh oh...

Looks like Anyma's in a lot of trouble with her own invention. Her Anymatronic is becoming more trouble than its worth...

Yes you wanted it, yes you constantly asked, inquired, demanded and stated, Anyma should get what she deserves and though many pondered and queried just who get her, I simply sat back and silently answered, "Not who...but what."

With Anyma working late and no one around, she is forced to fight off this terrible machine as it bears down on her.

Oh no...

---

Also, for those interested in wanting to know what went on with the Anymatronic's head. Give this a read.~

A Mother's Weakness (Pt 1/2)A Mother’s Weakness
      The hardest thing about being a stay-at-home mother for the retired cop, Carrie Larson, was the alone time. With her husband away on business trip after business trip, her daughter and the family-sized home she kept neat and tidy, were often her only daily reminders to her that she even had a family.
      After stepping out of the public shower at her local gym, she wrapped herself in a towel and headed towards her locker. She towered over most of the women in the locker room. That in conjunction with her toned body and the tan skin from her Brazilian ancestry was enough to keep a number of the women in this suburban gym far away from her. Most of the people at this gym tended to keep to themselves, exercising alone and silently bemoaning the fact that they had to share this gym with others.
      As Carrie pulled on her tight-fitting white tee shirt, and blow-dried her lo A Mother's Weakness (pt 2/2)      Carrie grit her teeth, giving the wires another tug, but with them already stretched taut, it felt like pulling against steel, with no give whatsoever. Her heart sank as her would-be tickler sat atop the backs of her ankles, keeping them pinned down. “L-look, uh, about my daughter,” she said.
      “Yes?”
      “She’s okay, right? You did not harm her, did you?” It felt like the last thing to be concerned about as she lay there, tied up and about to be tickled beyond reason with that damned brush, but it was the only comfort she could grasp for. “Please tell me.”
      She twitched, shivering and biting back a shaky grin as ‘Mr. Brush’ began to sweep back and forth across her heel.
      Anyma sighed. “Carrie, Carrie, Carrie. You need to stop worrying your little head about this.”

Description
Next:

If you would like to take advantage of timed exclusives like this or even exclusives. I encourage you to support my Patreon!

Patreon! Anyma, The Tickle Terrorist!
---------

Anyma: Even She makes mistakes
Anyma: Especially when she's tired
Anyma: ...Uh oh...

Looks like Anyma's in a lot of trouble with her own invention. Her Anymatronic is becoming more trouble than its worth...

Yes you wanted it, yes you constantly asked, inquired, demanded and stated, Anyma should get what she deserves and though many pondered and queried just who get her, I simply sat back and silently answered, "Not who...but what."

With Anyma working late and no one around, she is forced to fight off this terrible machine as it bears down on her.

Oh no...

---

Also, for those interested in wanting to know what went on with the Anymatronic's head. Give this a read.~

A Mother's Weakness (Pt 1/2)A Mother’s Weakness
      The hardest thing about being a stay-at-home mother for the retired cop, Carrie Larson, was the alone time. With her husband away on business trip after business trip, her daughter and the family-sized home she kept neat and tidy, were often her only daily reminders to her that she even had a family.
      After stepping out of the public shower at her local gym, she wrapped herself in a towel and headed towards her locker. She towered over most of the women in the locker room. That in conjunction with her toned body and the tan skin from her Brazilian ancestry was enough to keep a number of the women in this suburban gym far away from her. Most of the people at this gym tended to keep to themselves, exercising alone and silently bemoaning the fact that they had to share this gym with others.
      As Carrie pulled on her tight-fitting white tee shirt, and blow-dried her lo A Mother's Weakness (pt 2/2)      Carrie grit her teeth, giving the wires another tug, but with them already stretched taut, it felt like pulling against steel, with no give whatsoever. Her heart sank as her would-be tickler sat atop the backs of her ankles, keeping them pinned down. “L-look, uh, about my daughter,” she said.
      “Yes?”
      “She’s okay, right? You did not harm her, did you?” It felt like the last thing to be concerned about as she lay there, tied up and about to be tickled beyond reason with that damned brush, but it was the only comfort she could grasp for. “Please tell me.”
      She twitched, shivering and biting back a shaky grin as ‘Mr. Brush’ began to sweep back and forth across her heel.
      Anyma sighed. “Carrie, Carrie, Carrie. You need to stop worrying your little head about this.”