The machine starts from the top.

The two extending arms produce a small panel gag, and cinches over your open mouth. You stare confusedly in the mirror trying to figure out why they bothered opening your mouth just to cover it.

Next you observe a dozen thing wire like tentacles, like the legs of a daddy long legs, emerging from the darkness. Their ominous inhuman look makes your skin crawl as you observe them slowly descend from above, digging into your hair and landing on your scalp. They then begin scratching around, every inch of your scalp. The sensation was impossible to describe. Thin sharp wiry claws scratching and setting your nerves on fire with tiny pinpricks of pure sensation. It wasn't at all like the tickling you had been subjected to up to that point, instead it was enough to drive you mad but not elicit a full laugh. Behind the gag you let out a series of whoops and yelps like a wild animal. Your teeth bite down on the dental vice, preventing you from any forming any words, only pained yelps and yips.

Then you figured out why the gag was in place. Small clouds of dust started emanating from the tips of the claws. Dry shampoo, a powdered compound to clean and make sure the user's hair wasn't carrying anything unclean into an institution. Tiny particles of dust drifted down, smelling of peppermint and hemp, you let out a messy sneeze into your gag, grateful at least that the soap couldn't get into your mouth. The shampooing continues for a few minutes, your hollering and squeaking continuing the entire time, never fully erupting into laughter.

Afterwards the claws retract, and the two other claws reach out removing the gag.

Eight more arms reach out around your head armed with different implements, two on each side with small make up brush looking attachments, one on each with a small feather, and one on each with a small q-tip looking end.

You watch in the mirror as they approach, a brush pressing up against either side of your neck, a second setting up on the back side of each ear, the q-tips finding a place inside the shell of your ear, and the feathers right below your nostrils.

You try to shake your head, to beg the arms to go back, but the only response you get is the whirring sound of all 8 beginning to spin quickly. Your eyes screw shut, trying to wish away the tools, but they continue unperturbed. Soon the Q-tips start tracing the curves inside your ears, starting around the outside, then circling close and closer to your ear canal, then back out again. Meanwhile the brushes on the outside spun all round the back of your head, up and down each ear, around the ear, and down the back of the neck, while the other two got the sides, and under your chin.

Though not something you often experienced, you never could have imagined how bad having all these spots attacked at once would tickle. You positively screamed through your dental vice. Unable to close your mouth nothing sounding like a traditional "HAHAHA" or "HEHEHE" or "SOMEONE PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD HELP ME! MAKE IT STOP!" could come out, but a series of loud panicked and **** screams got the same point across.

Every free inch of your head was creaming in ticklish agony, and the brushes and tools moved so fast you never could expect where it was going to strike next. It's not long before you're out of breath, wheezing through your open mouth, drooling heavily, with rivulets of tears marking your red face.

Finally the arms retract and the spinning sound mostly dissipates, but you can still hear it partially. Your wits slowly get together as you try to figure out what that noise is, when your eyes focus on the mirror again and you see the two small feathers spinning wildly beneath your nostrils.

Panicking you try to pull your arms and legs free, trying to shake your head with no more effect than the last time. You cry as time slows down and you see the feathers moving closer and closer to your nostrils, moving hardly a millimeter a second. Seconds before the anticipation can kill you they jerk up the last few millimeters and make contact.

The shrill screech that escapes your throat is almost supersonic in pitch. Your pupils close and you continue to howl. The sensation is beyond maddening, you'd rather go back to having the rest of your head tickled in a second. You feel like your skull is going to explode, you feel like you're about to split in two, and after what couldn't have even been a minute, the feathers retract.

You heave in lung-fulls of air, shortly after your nose begins regaining normal feeling after the over stimulation, and suddenly a wave of sneezes takes you. After a dozen sneezes you lost track, all the time the tickling sensation lingering. The whole process was made all the more awkward by trying to sneeze with an open mouth.

While your body spasms the last of the 8 arms retract, and out pop a set of six more. Your body tries to will itself **** to avoid what must be coming next. You notice five appear to be tooth brushes and one something that look strikingly familiar to the waterpik your rich friend had growing up.

First two move in and actually do what they look like they were supposed to. Right away they go into your mouth and begin scrubbing your teeth. After finishing an area the waterpik comes in and sprays away the mint toothpaste. You actually inhale a sigh of relief through your nostrils. Then they go for a second round. Finally you relax as you hear the familiar whirring sound from earlier. Not paying attention you begin to relax, and suddenly feel the familiar electric sensation, this time on the roof of your mouth. Two of the smaller circular brushes make contact with the soft palate of your mouth, and the third lightly dances over your restrained tongue.

At this point you're close to losing it. These spots have never gotten this sort of attention before and it's blowing circuits in your head. Your vision starts dancing with colors, starts painting themselves across the mirror. Eventually the actual toothbrushes retract leaving only the tickling brushes and waterpik continually overstimulating your mouth. At this point you can barely manage to laugh, most noises coming out being pained wheezes and gasps. The runoff water and drool are now met by an almost unceasing stream of tears. You stare at yourself in the mirror with absolute despair. You look half dead already, and the cleaning hasn't even finished with your head. You have **** but to wait there, laughing, and hope that it ends.