Dorain1

Dorain1 is a pedophile, Muslim apologist, possibly autistic manchild, tartlet, who out does the usual fags by being a tickle fetish fag on top of all of this. Hang on to your seats for this is going to be a bumpy ride delving into the sick world of the tickle fetish side of deviantart and the disgusting shit this fucker is in to. We're going to have some fun with this one.

Musfag Apolgist

Before we get into the real cringey stuff let's start with the topic that is the least cancerous and we put that lightly. Dorain1 is seeming an apologist for both gun control and Islam. The autsitic tard tired to take things one step further by claiming that Muslims aren't terrorist but every member of the fucking NRA is. According to this autistic pedo Muslims aren't terrorists and just innocent persecuted babies al la the kikes. Meanwhile the NRA is full of terrorists and anyone who support them are terrorists as well. For example the faggot will cite stats that gun crime in America is at an all time high (mostly due to the niggers) while blatantly ignoring the fact that Muslims are the top exporters of terror and are getting more conservative every year. This got us some lovely gems such as "Considering that the NRA supports terrorist stances where Muslims do not" and Muslims don support death to homosexuals, adulterers, cartoonists, aspostates or blasphemers; only extremists support that stance. He also cliams that since only muzzle loaded muskets were existent back then the snds only applies to him however free speech applies to the internet and not just newspapers. You may have noticed at this point Dorain1 is not the brightest bulb.

However he didn't stop there. Master trolls smelled the autism coming off Dorain like how sharks smell blood and the DA equivalent of a feed frenzy began. Being the incredibly autistic asspie that he is Dorain took the bait which was his third big mistake right after being born, and posting his fetish content on DA. Dorain1 tried to justify the actions of the musfags by claiming he is no worse the Jewish or Christian god. The dumbass faggot then contradicted himself when he then claimed that "Shall we talk about how Jehovah told the Israelites to slaughter all the little boys in Jerico and take the women and young girls as concubines in the bible?" which then contradicts the dumbasses previous statement that Allah is not blood thirsty.To which the dumbass admits but fails to realize "No, he is the same god as Jehovah, moron. If you call the God of the Mormons bloodthirsty, then you have to call the God of the Jews/Christians bloodthirsty, and there's a line-up of people waiting to tell you how full of shit you are." And as he said there's a whole line up of people to tell him how full of shit he is.

His Love of "Little" Boys

You may have noticed the little quip he said about the little boys being killed in the Bible? Yeah Dorain has a strange fascination for little boys. Mostly the incredibly creepy tickle fetish that he has for them. However this guy takes his fetish to the next level. Dorain claims to be asexual and thus he cannot feel sexual attraction so there is absolutely nothing erotic about his work or art. This is until you read gems like this.

Steve gave a sleepy moan as he felt someone pick him up out of his bed. He opened his eyes a slit, but the bright morning sunshine blinded him and he closed his eyes again. In that brief glimpse, he saw that it was his father that had picked him up and was carrying him.

“Daad?” the eleven-year-old murmured sleepily.

“Shhh. It’s okay, kiddo,” the tall, muscular man said as he gave the boy a peck of a kiss on the forehead.

Steve relaxed, and started to drift off to sleep again, but was interrupted when he was placed on a padded seat with support for his legs. The boy was dressed in just his pyjama boxers, and the leather material felt cool on his back and the backs of his legs. The seat supported his back, so the drowsy boy kept his eyes closed and relaxed. He was dimly aware as his ankles were picked up and placed in padded depressions. He then felt soft but consistent pressure around his ankles. He wiggled his feet a bit, and found that they were held. The youngster was still to lethargic to piece together what was happening to him. He was unaware as padded leather straps went around each thigh and across his waist, securing him to the hinged wooden chair.

When his limp right arm was picked up and his wrist positioned behind his head, Steve started to wake up more. A comfortable leather strap secured his skinny wrist to the back of the chair, with his elbow pointing straight up. The boy wiggled his feet again a bit, feeling a solid resistance as his left arm was picked up. The boy’s sluggish brain processed two plus two and realized that his father was binding him to the chair. As his left wrist was secured behind his head, Steve opened his eyes. He was in the family basement — the place where his dad crafted unique constructions of wood, metal and leather for his eccentric clients.

The brunette lad day-dreamed of Miss Fixx, one of his father’s favourite customers — she had a basement full of his father’s contraptions. They were all designed for one thing — to restrain children safely and comfortably for her insanely-unbearable tickling sessions.

He roused fully when he felt his very ticklish toes being handled. He giggled a bit as those chubby little digits were tied flexed back to the wooden stocks that held his feet. The silk ribbons caused a cold, tickly sensation as they slid between his toes. Now fully aware that his father had snatched him out of bed to test out one of his crazy contraptions, Steve started to feel a lethargic annoyance. It was a Saturday morning, and he would much rather sleep than be tickled, so he voiced his displeasure.

“Dad, what are you doing?”

The boy’s bright blue eyes looked up and caught his dad’s gaze.

“Sorry, son. Business,” the man replied with a cheery grin as he double-checked his young son’s restraints, making sure that they would cause no pain.

“Business?” Steve asked as he looked around.

When he spotted the svelte, long-haired Latina woman seated nearby, he gave a double-take.

“Ms. Fixx?” he asked.

The woman gave the helpless boy a vixen-like smile, an almost hungry look in her chocolate brown eyes.

“Dad!” Steve cried out in mild panic.

Miss Fixx had tickled him to death and back again several times in the past. He always had to screw up his courage and resolve any time he consented to have the woman tickle him — who was he kidding? He had begged her to tickle him, much to his dismay. He definitely wasn’t ready to face her expertise in making a youngster squirm, mewl and laugh hysterically.

“Dad, no! Not today!” Steve begged, his eyes wide as he stared at the exquisitely fearsome, but tremendously beautiful woman.

“Sorry, son. You’ve got no choice,” his father replied.

The man picked up a piece of paper off his nearby workbench, and held it so that the restrained youth could see it. Steve recognized his distinctive pencil-crayon artwork embellishing a message in large letters.

“One Free Tickling; Any Time, Anywhere, Any Way!” the paper declared above the smaller letters that said “Happy Father’s Day, Dad!”

“I’m cashing this in. Now. However I want. For as long as I want,” the man chuckled as he winked at his son.

Steve gave a moaning sigh. He was stuck. When he spent all the money he had saved for his Father’s Day gift on candy, he quickly drew up that coupon and proudly presented it to his dad on that special day. He never dreamt it would come back to bite him in the butt like it was now. He resigned himself to withstand the unbearable; it wasn’t like he didn’t love being tickled, so he knew it would be fun, and his dad wouldn’t allow him to come to harm.

“So as you can see, José, the bed secures the child helplessly, but comfortably for long periods of time,” Steve’s father said, pointing to the bindings that held his son.

“Comfortably!?” Steve quipped.

All of his most ticklish spots were exposed, and he knew that all of them would be exploited. He tugged at his arms, but they wouldn’t budge an inch.

“No comments from the peanut gallery,” Steve’s father said with a wink at Ms. Fixx.

“Is it uncomfortable, Spanky?” Ms. Fixx asked the defenseless eleven-year-old.

“Spanky?” the man said, raising one eyebrow as he grinned at his son.

Steve flushed in embarrassment. Ms. Fixx had given him that nickname last summer and it reminded him of the mortification that had accompanied that experience.

“No! It was… Don’t use that name around… um, I mean, it doesn’t hurt or anything,” Steve stammered, looking away as he tried to hide his blush.

Suddenly, Steve’s dad started wigging his fingers in the boy’s open armpits. The young captive yowled and burst out laughing and wiggling. The torment of his sensitive underarms continued as the man made his sales pitch.

“As you can observe, the frame doesn’t even creak, even under the utmost stress.”

“The utmost stress?” Ms. Fixx asked with playful skepticism. “We should test that.”

“Nah! Ha-ha-ha-ha!! Tha-hat’s not necessary! Hee-hee-hee! Hahahaha!” the youngster blurted out between his giggles.

But his protests fell on deaf ears. The tickling maestrix moved to Steve’s feet and sat down. The boy squirmed his soles, but his tied toes prevented his feet from moving much. When her talented fingers claimed those young soles, the tickling sensations shot up Steve’s spine, triggering wild laughter and even more frantic struggling. Even over the boy’s spirited laughter, the two adults could hear that not even a creak could be heard from the chair.

Steve was ready to burst. Two expert ticklers were scourging some of the most sensitive parts of his body, and he was helpless to pull his arms down, move his feet away, or stop them in any way. As the adults got more creative and intense with their tickling, Steve just gave in and let the sensations carry him away.

Ms. Fixx’s sharp nails rippled up and down his taut arches, and Steve could do nothing; not even scrunch his soles for protection. She had free rein with his poor, helpless feet, and she made the most of it. When her fingers dove into the bases of his tender little toes, the eleven-year-old squealed and burst into hysterical laughter.

Yet that hysteria wasn’t just because of Ms. Fixx’s ministrations to his feet; the boy’s father was scribbling his fingers in Steve’s open armpits, up and down his underarms, and down onto his ribs. Because of the stretched position he was in, each and every rib bone stood out in relief, and the man tickled every single one. Steve flapped his arms as much as he was able, but it did nothing to protect his torso from the tickling fingers of his beloved father.

“Here comes the next test,” Steve’s dad said as the two adults gave the youngster a breather.

Steve panted, still feeling the faint nerve echoes of that tickling onslaught. He was ready for this ordeal to be done, but knowing his father, it was only just started. The jovial man picked up a tall cylindrical can with a bunch of feathers of different size, shape and softness in it. Ms. Fixx helped herself to a couple of long, medium-soft sky blue feathers, while he took a couple of the softest, fluffiest white feathers. He immediately started drawing those fluffy feathers over Steve’s underarms and ribs. Stretched out as he was, even that tickled a great deal; but only enough to make the boy titter. The truly voluminous laughter came when Ms. Fixx plied her feathers to Steve’s toes. When the feathers were drawn between his immobilized toes, the tickling sensations increased tenfold. She continued to tease his soft, pink toes, drawing ever escalating laughter from the lad until his voice broke and he could only gasp in laughter. Only then did she give him some small amount of relief as she drew the feathers down to cavort on his arches and up the outside edges of his feet. Poor Steve managed to keep his voice, but delightfully high-pitched and sweet laughter poured from his open mouth.

The two kept up their torment of the young boy until he was sweating from laughing and struggling against his bonds. Even through all that, the wooden frame of the chair never creaked even once; a great testament to the man’s carpentry skills. Steve panted in relief, glad that the “demonstration” was over. He was half-sure that there had never been any question of the strength and durability of the device and the two adults had just conspired to tickle the eleven-year-old silly for fun, but what came next made Steve’s heart drop.

“I think it needs an acid test,” Ms. Fixx said as she retrieved her purse and pulled out an odd-shaped vial with oriental dragons painted on the outside.

“You’re going to pour acid on me?” Steve squeaked, alarmed as he struggled anew with his bonds.

“No, silly boy,” Ms. Fixx said as she brushed a lock of the boy’s hair off of his sweaty forehead. “This is the Tears of the Dragon. It’s a very special ointment.”

Steve was used to oils and ointments being used on him during tickling sessions both by his father, and Ms. Fixx, so he relaxed with a sigh.

“I wouldn’t feel so relieved, my little Spanky,” she chuckled.

“I’m really going to have to learn the history behind that nickname,” Steve’s father interjected with a grin.

Meanwhile, Ms. Fixx was pouring some of the cloudy fluid into her hands and started rubbing it on Steve’s immobile feet. It felt cold, then warm, and finally just made his feet tingle. The woman passed the vial to Steve’s father and wiped off her hands.

“Hmm. Smells like barbecue sauce and whiskey,” Steve’s dad said, sniffing the open container.

“Tastes like it, too,” Ms. Fixx added. “Totally safe to eat,” she commented with a sly grin.

As Steve’s dad spread the strange oil into his son’s underarms, sides and tummy, the boy could again feel the cold, warm and tingling sensations as the liquid absorbed right into his skin without a trace.

“Ready?” Ms. Fixx asked the supine child.

“Um, no?” Steve said nervously.

“Well, here it comes anyway!” she replied.

Steve exploded into screams and laughter when the woman drew her feather over just one of his soles. It tickled unlike anything he had ever felt before; not even when Ms. Fixx had tickled him wacky for an entire day! But he still had one foot untend-to, and it tingled like mad. Ms. Fixx didn’t make him wait long. She started scribbing her fingernails over his right sole. Steve’s eyes opened wide in shock, and then clenched shut as he laughed like never before. He struggled desperately with his bonds, but they didn’t budge an inch. It only got worse from there. His dad started drawing that fluffy feather over his armpits and ribs. While it had only lightly teased him before; now it was unbearable torment. His voice shot high up in pitch, and quickly went silent.

Rather than take that as a sign they should stop, the two adults continued their tickling assault on the helpless tween. Steve tried to buck and squirm to get away from those feathers and fingers, but he was held immobile. There was nothing he could do but laugh and withstand it for as long as they wanted to play with him. The feathers in his armpits moved down to his tummy, flooding the boy’s mind with a tsunami of sensations. Tingles shot up his spine and pooled in his brain, keeping him hysterical and desperate for relief. He managed to give out a squeak of protest when Ms. Fixx moved her fingers and feather to his toes. He wanted to tear off his feet at the ankles to escape the ordeal, but he was unable to do anything except tremble and silently scream in laughter.

“See? Not a single squeak!” Steve’s father commented as his boy continued to gasp with silent laughter.

“Still, we should go a little longer. Maybe another hour?” Ms. Fixx cooed at Steve’s toes as she continued to tease them.

The boy desperately tried to protest, but all he could do was silently mouth “No!” over and over. Fortunately for the youngster, they only continued to tickle his over-sensitized body for another five minutes, but it felt like an eternity to him. When they stopped, Steve just went limp with relief.

“N...no more!” he panted as tears from his uncontained laugher pour down the sides of his head.

“You sure? We could go a little longer, squirt,” Steve’s dad teased, but contrary to that jibe at his son, he was starting to undo the straps that had held the boy prisoner for… well, who knew how long?

As soon as his arms and legs were free, his bladder stridently protested.

“Gotta go!!” he cried out.

Ms. Fixx worked quickly and ticklishly to undo the ribbons holding his toes, and finally the stocks were opened. Steve vaulted off the table and scampered upstairs to the washroom.

“His feet never even touched the ground,” Steve’s dad chuckled as he watched his retreating son’s feet vanish up the stairs.

Ms. Fixx patted the contraption affectionately.

“Broken will have the best twelfth birthday ever!”

If you're interested you can read that cancer here. Dorain1 writes a story where an eleven year old is tied down in a padded chair a la bondage and tickled presuambly in the basement of some adult women who he mentioned in his story does this frequently to children in her basement. If you were disturbed upon reading this and reached to call the cops on this sick fuck congratulations! You're normal! However Dorain fervently denies that there is anything erotic in his stories and that they are fetish material saying he is an asexual. In reality he's just a fat ugly virgin who wants to touch children and should not within 50 feet of anyone under the age of 15.

His Patreon

Though we here at ED like to satirize and troll the plebs we actually are speaking the literal truth about Dorain1 when we called him a fat ugly virgin. Dorain1 is autistic and stupid enough to think that people will actually pay him for his child porn. So he set up a Patreon account where greedy Jews can throw money at him in order to fund his perverse material so they can wank their uncut cocks to it. However what makes this incredibly cringe worthy is the dumbass was stupid enough to show his face on the Paetreon Which you can see here. This makes it deliciously ironic that he actually fits the mental image people would make of him. Proving once again that ED is always right. Also despite asking people to throw shekels at his sweaty body like the dirty Jew he is he still admits he is going to post his stories 100% for free on deviantart. Making the entire point of setting up a Patreon moot. Yes, this guy really is this autistic that he even makes deviantart the center of autistic artist cringe.

Sighted by ED.

This sad autistic pedo was originally found by fellow EDiot, tartlet, and tickle-fag Shaoftickle. While looking for the usual tickle-faggotry of most likley animu girls undergoing tickle torture he stumbled upon Dorain's faggotry. Most likely because Dorain actually sends his work to the tickle fetish groups on DA despite Dorain actually claiming he hates the tickle-fag community. The original thread can be read for your pleasure here. Sadly OP didn't realize that DA was full of pedos so no one cared about this autistic fucktard. However this did not go unnoticed by the man child himself. Dorain lost his shit when he was called out for being a pedo and had an autistic spazz attack. ED will recite it below.

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Since you are too much of a coward to allow me to dispute your lies, here is my response to your comment:

Tickling is not a Fetish, and liking to engage in tickling minors is not perverted in the least. Any perversion you see is your own. The majority of people see nothing sexual about my stories; you are one of a tiny minority of freaks.

For one thing, I am totally asexual. NOTHING arouses me sexually, so how could I put any "perversion" in my stories? Frankly, I've seen more than a few people trying to rationalize their own sick desire to sexualize children by blaming something like a neutral story, but that's like saying that people who write about murders are murderers themselves, or like the idea of committing murders. That is a completely ludicrous thought, and so is your demented rationalization of your own perversion.

The statement I gave is very true. It takes a real paedo to see paedophilia in media where there is none, and no amount of lying to yourself is going to change the fact that it's all you; not my stories.

If you find sexualization in childhood stories where there are none, you should probably go see a psychologist, because you are one sick monkey! What's next? Are you going to call Harry Potter kiddie porn because the kids are all handling "wands"? That is just how ridiculous your assertion is.

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This is in spite of the fact that as Shaotickler pointed out 99.999999% of his stories involve pre-pubscent boys with the youngest clocking in at 8 being restrained and tickled. Naturally if bearded neck beards like this start to touch children this naturally puts people on edge. Sadly Dorain can't understand that.

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