CallyGalaxy
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Hi everyone! I've visited this site for ages as a non-member and have toyed around with tickling stories for a while. This is my first post ever, first completed tickling story ever, and I'm honestly quite nervous about it. It's first person, erotic, and it incorporates phobias and an adaptation of the classic interrogation scenario, but I don't know if it will appeal to everyone's tastes. Anyway, hope you enjoy!
-CallyGalaxy
***
I had been left to soak in the warm bath for a long time, which I tried not to indulge in enjoying. The tension in my muscles gradually left me, and the high concentration of Epsom salts soaked into my skin, making it soft and clean. The heat of the water was a welcome change from the cold dungeon I’d been imprisoned in. But I was unable to enjoy these things, as I knew the only reason for such luxury had to be some unthinkable torture I had not yet been able to dream up. My body was relaxed, but my mind spun and buzzed with anxiety.
Eventually, the heavy steel doors opened and the masked man and masked woman returned, their drab coats covering neck to knee, black boots covering their calves. Neither spoke as they lifted me from the tub by my arms – displaying unusual strength – and put me on my feet. They walked me over to what looked like showers – to wash off the excess salt, I assumed. I was placed in a shower unit and the door was closed and locked. I was instructed to keep my eyes closed.
As the water hit, I could tell immediately from its consistency that something was different. Deep in my gut, panic rose as I imagined the worst – acid? Poison? Liquid psychoactive drug delivery? I felt nothing unusual on my skin except for a light stickiness. Feeling the accumulation of the substance on my lips, I dared a quick probe with my tongue to discover, with confusion, that it was immensely sweet. Sugar water? Why? What possible purpose could this serve?
I was drenched in the saccharine substance for several minutes until a filmy layer coated every inch and every crevice of my body. I was wise not to open my eyes, for even parts of my face were hit with the splash, though most of the damage was from the neck down. The shower shut off, and I was released. The masked man and masked woman once again grabbed my arms, wearing surgical gloves, and led me to a long table that looked like ceramic, or porcelain. Cold to the touch. I was instructed to lie down by the masked man. I dared not resist, knowing there was no escape, accepting the hopelessness of my situation. I was fairly certain we were several hundred feet underground, encased in several feet of solid cement, and the only way out was a heavily guarded elevator. There would be nowhere to run.
Once laid on the table, the masked woman stretched my arms far above my head. My breath became ragged and, embarrassingly, my eyes stung and watered in fear, a tear falling from the corner of my eye down my temple to my ear. I could still not conjure any logical reason for this treatment, and thus my imagination assumed the worst. I was braced for pain, of any kind, that would crumble the endurance of even the strongest of men. I was never a strong man, myself. Here, naked and cold, helplessly trapped, they could submit me to anything, for as long as they liked. As I felt the restraints clamp down around my wrists, I wished myself dead.
My legs were lifted, hoisted in a slightly bent position, and my ankles tied to a raised bar situated across the lower end of the table. The vulnerable position filled my head with horrific images of genital mutilation or even rape. I hoped this would not be the case. I had not yet prepared myself for that.
The masked man and masked woman stepped back, and, with a button, lowered a glass encasement from the ceiling that effectively trapped me in a box. There was ventilation, thankfully, and a curious attachment to the ceiling of the box, a smaller metal case about two feet long and a foot wide. Forcing myself to halt my wild guessing, I waited with gritted teeth for the explanation to come.
“So. Let’s begin again. Why did you infiltrate our secure data centers?”
“I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to. I still don’t know who you are.”
“Lying is not advised. We are beyond this now. Let’s start simple. Who do you work for?”
“I told you, I’m an analyst for a marketing firm! I spend my day at a desk plotting graphs. I’m not some kind of secret agent! I must have accessed your files by mistake.”
“What was your name, again?”
I sighed. “Michael Goodwin. 29 years old. From Bend, Oregon.”
“Hmm. We have pulled the information on this person, and are reasonably sure he exists. We’re less convinced, however, that he’s you.”
“I don’t know what to tell you people! I can’t prove anything when you have me locked up!”
The masked woman turned to her companion and said sharply, “This conversation is not productive. He’s leading us by the nose. Less talk, more persuasion, I think.”
“I think I agree with you,” he replied.
The incident that led to my imprisonment had unfolded in a matter of hours. I was sent a file from my boss’s address with log-in information, and asked to “see if I could make sense of it, and let him know how it would influence our next report.” I had never received instructions this vague before, but was more than willing to stay late to do as I was told. I was two hours into overtime, nearing ten o’clock at night, trying to decipher the information I’d opened, when my office door banged open, a bag was slipped over my head, and sharp fumes entered my nose and mouth and I knew nothing more until I woke up in a dark cell.
In the present moment, I stared up in fear at the metal box over my head affixed to the glass ceiling. I dared not speak, or barely even breath, as the masked figures spoke to each other in low voices. Then I was addressed again.
“You may have discovered that you have been exposed to a large volume of a saccharine compound. It is non-toxic, non-lethal in and of itself. You will notice also that positioned above you is a container with a remote-controlled release function. This container now holds three hundred members of an arachnid species developed exclusively in our labs, unknown entirely to the wild.”
My heart skipped several beats in a row. Arachnid? How was it possible that they knew my greatest phobia? I struggled against my restraints, straining my muscles to try to break free, but as I suspected, it was no use. I waggled my fingers and toes uselessly, beginning to cry like an infant. I couldn’t form the words to protest. What would these spiders do to me? Why was I coated in sugar? I suspected, with horror, that they were meant to eat me alive.
“We anticipate your fears and assure you that no, you will not be eaten alive in this exercise. You must believe you are no good to us dead. This is a method of persuasion. You will not be harmed, but we will not hesitate to use this method as long as possible to achieve results.
These spiders are not carnivorous. They subsist instead on an artificial sugar that mimics the carbohydrate content of their usual prey. These spiders also lack piercing fangs, but otherwise have mouths similar to their wild counterparts. They are exceptionally hairy, with their entire bodies covered with a dense, bristle-like coat. They range from 3-5.5 centimeters in size. They have an acute sense of smell and taste, with which they seek their meal.
As you can imagine, they are essentially harmless. However, we have discovered that the physical sensation of contact with this species on the delicate skin of humans – like yourself, recently made more sensitive by the exfoliating properties of the bath salt – produces… interesting results. You may find this experience extremely unpleasant and difficult to endure. The sooner you decide to cooperate with us, the sooner this can all be over.”
And thus, everything became horrifyingly clear. I knew what was about to happen. I was covered in a large amount of these creatures’ only food source, and, naked and helpless and soaked raw, these small, terrifying, furry monstrosities were going to engulf my body in a writhing, seething, scuttling, tickling mass of merciless scouring. Why this? Why not ANYTHING but this?
I had always had hyper-sensitive nerves. As a kid, I was made fun of, called a girl and a baby for the way I squirmed at the slightest touch. Other boys in my class would pick me up by my limbs, twist their grubby kid fingers into my stomach and armpits, calling me all kinds of bad names while I screeched and flailed. The visions came back into my head as I thrashed against my restraints, wishing again I were dead, for reasons I never thought I’d have to consider. I was already picturing the squirming, skittering creatures coating my body with such unbearable sensations, and my nerves tingled and twitched like they were trying to crawl out of me to get away. I was painfully aware of how sensitive my skin had become after the long soak in the salt, and how thoroughly I was coated in the sugary syrup.
“Your reaction is encouraging. We can see that this may be an effective method for you. In case you were wondering, you are currently covered with enough food stuff for these spiders to feed for approximately two hours.”
Oh god, oh jesus no. I could barely stand a minute of ten digits alone prodding my body, how in the world could I stand two hours of – three hundred, times eight – 2,400 legs??? My only hope was that the fear would overwhelm me and I would pass out before the torture really began. No such luck.
I knew the moment when they’d pushed the button as a tiny gear in the box began to slowly open the hatch on the bottom. I watched in terror as the gruesome legs began scrambling for freedom as soon as there was room. The first few jumpers hit my stomach, and the hatch stopped there and closed again. I could tell this process would be slow and terrible. The panic in my gut rose unbearably, and I screamed as I strained to look down at the first five spiders that had landed on my belly.
They began to feed where they fell, and I could feel their tiny mouths sucking and scraping and prodding my skin. In their excitement to eat, their legs twitched and tap-danced in a way that might have otherwise been comical, but the feel of the bristly leg-hairs rubbing against my sensitive stomach made me begin, involuntarily, to succumb to laughter. I could even feel the bottom of their furry abdomens rub back and forth as they gorged themselves.
“No no no… ahahaha… no, please, oh god… hahahaHAHAHA JESUS! FUCK! Get them off me! HAHAHAhmhmhmahahaha…” I squirmed, but it only made the sensations worse, as every movement by me made them cling tighter with their tickly little feet.
The hatch began to open again, and several more fell out on top of me. Seeing the location already taken, these few ventured upwards, toward my neck. Two began feeding in and on my ears, creating horrible twitchy, itching sensations, as a few more, I couldn’t tell how many, settled at my neck, prodding the sensitive skin there between jaw and clavicle.
“NO! NO! NO! AHAHAHAHA huhuhuhuh HAAAA HAAA OH GOD NO! MAKE THEM STOP!” I shook my head back and forth violently, which only caused the spiders at my ears to dig their sticky feet into my ear canal to hold on. I thought I might go out of my mind, and I knew the worst had not even yet begun.
Several more were dropped onto my chest, where they scurried down my sides and took up root at my ribs, and, most disturbingly of all, into the deep hollows of my armpits. Their mouths roamed over my skin like little vacuums, planting their creepy monster kisses all over my poor, abused skin. The tangling of their hairy legs in the coarse and wild hair of my armpits produced unbearable tickling feelings. My chest heaved with laughter, my breathing was broken and shallow, and sweat began to form all over me. The spiders seemed undeterred by this. A few ventured up to the front of my chest, going to work on my sensitive areolas and nipples.
“JESUS FUCK NO OH GOD HAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA SHIT HMHMHMHMHUHUHUHOHOHO NOOOOOOOO…”
I had completely lost the ability to think about my captors, and what they might be thinking watching this process unfold. My conscious and rational thought was lost completely to the sensations driving me out of my mind! My belly rippled under the spiders’ ministrations, my sensitive nipples became hard and swollen, and my arms flailed helplessly, hoping to dislodge the spiders burrowing down to my skin through the hair in my pits.
Still, I knew it could only get worse. More spiders appeared, and these ventured south. I could feel them scurry in line down my quads, around my knee caps, and over my shins to my feet. This was one of the parts I had been most dreading. My feet are so sensitive I can barely walk barefoot in my own home, the littlest fiber makes them itch, and the littlest piece of dirt or gravel hurts to tread on. I knew I could feel their devil mouths and appendages more acutely here than anywhere else so far, and when they arrived, I knew I was right.
First exploring the top of my foot, causing my sinews and muscles to twitch and flex violently under them, and tickling the little divots around my ankles, a couple of them ventured to the soles, where they went to work on fiercely and voraciously sucking the sugar out of the little wrinkles in my arches, at which I howled like a wild animal, arching my back and slamming my head into the table. They settled at my toes, prying into the space between them with their furry legs, shuffling these legs back and forth in what I can only imagine was spiteful and intentional torture. Their mouths suckled the soft webbing between my toes and their undersides, and through my screaming and whooping, I thought I would have rather endured any pain, anything in the world but this.
“No more… no more… I can’t take it… ahahahaHAHAHAHOHOHO UGGHHHHHHH AHAHAHAHAHA SHIT!!!”
But I knew it was no use. My whole body now vibrated and twitched and writhed in ticklish agony. There was nowhere to escape. No way to move further away from the spiders’ handiwork. They were hungry, had probably been starved for this very occasion, and they would not stop until they had gorged themselves to death, I knew it. With despair, I realized that what felt like an eternity to me had likely been only a few minutes. I wept through my laughter, wondering how I could ever make it through the session.
But as the torture continued, something strange began to happen. After the initial shock of the sensations began to wear down, I began to feel another feeling along with the horrifically ticklish sensations. My body was beginning to flush, my heart beginning to pound, and I noticed, with horror, that the persistent teasing touches had begun to cause engorgement of my poor naked member. Why? What hell is this, where a litany of brainless monsters, my worst nightmare, were able to coax arousal within me? Was I merely reacting to the hopelessness of my situation? Was this kind of physical stimulation enough to mimic foreplay? Was I some kind of deviant at heart?
There was no fighting it. It was impossible to stop the process once it had started. These ticklish feelings, no matter how unbearable, no matter how dementedly torturous, always produced the same result – my hard cock begged for the same attention, the little teasing touches that sent me over the edge. It occurred to me, with a wave of self-loathing, that this might have eventually become a perfectly healthy fetish, that some nice lady might be willing to indulge if only I’d been able to face it and admit it, but now it was coming to fruition at the hands of masked madmen using genetically engineered monsters. There would be no relief for me, and I questioned whether I could retain my sanity at the end – if I made it that long.
The next wave of spiders added to the tank sought out the last places left unexplored. Yes, many settled on my legs, tormenting the insides and backs of my thighs, the hollows behind my knees – but the worst was beyond my wildest imaginings. My buttocks, exposed by the hoisting of my legs, received several visitors, whose tickling attention caused my ass to spasm wildly, squirming to throw them and resulting in even greater torture.
“AAAIIIIIIIII!!!!! AAAAAAAIIIIIIIIII HAHAHAHAH HEEHEEHEEHEE AAAUUUUGGHHHHH HAHAHAHA!!!”
I squealed like a dying animal, but it was only going to get worse from there. One of the visitors to my ass squeezed into my helpless and outrageously sensitive ass crack, seeking the sweetness that had pooled there after the glazing shower. No matter what I did, I could not dislodge it. I shrieked and shrieked, but every clench of my ass cheeks merely sent the spider into a scuttling frenzy, flailing its fuzzy legs wildly and further into the crack of my ass toward my puckering anus. When it finally reached the little defenseless asshole, already twitching with fear, the little arachnid mouth and tiny tickly feet sent me over the edge into a ticklish oblivion. My asshole puckered and pulsed, but the spider sucked at the tight little ring with abandon, caring nothing for my torment.
Worse still, several spiders surrounded my ball sack, seeking, I suppose, the sticky syrup that had accumulated there as well, in the crevices – I thought I must be going mad. Their legs tickled amongst the hair of my crotch, as they dug into the delicate skin of my taint, into the grooves at the top of my thighs, and as they scurried over my testicles to collect as much sugar as they could. This sensitive part of my anatomy could feel every miniscule motion of their little grabbing mouths, and every bristle that rustled on their fat bodies. My balls jerked and retreated up close to my body, but there was nowhere for them to escape.
“PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE GOD NO NONONONONONONO AHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAUUUUGHHHHHH!!!”
Finally, my rigid, tumid cock felt the scamper of its own little guests, the legs that wrapped around the swollen shaft, sending violent shots of lightning up my belly from the base of my member. Their little feet scrambled for a hold on the smooth skin, and as they sucked and nuzzled against the pulsing organ, I felt disgust at myself for the hot, greasy feeling in my loins reacting to what was essentially a blowjob from arachnids. The tickling sensation was over the top, but different, as with every twitch I could feel myself closer and closer to the edge – they were milking me, teasing my cock to coax out another sweet juice that I could not keep holding back forever.
One of the little demons perched atop the head, its little feet hooked outrageously and satanically around the hyper-sensitive ridge, and worked over the swollen head with its tiny jaws. When it used a leg to scissor gently, torturously into the defenseless slit at the tip, to seek the sugar that had become lodged there, I finally lost control completely.
Everything went white. My body was alive and electric with nothing but the feeling of tickling and the delicate, teasing ministrations on my cock. My whole body jerked and spasmed, all the sensations totaling together and collecting somewhere deep in my testicles, shooting through my gut, and exploding into the air, sending thick ropes of cum high above me and onto the glass, a few drops landing back on my lower belly.
“UNNNGHHHHHH YES YES YES YES YES FUCK FUCK FUCK UGHHHHHH… unghhhhh… unghhh…” I screamed at the top of my lungs, trailing off into defeated moans as all the energy left my body. The spiders, disturbed and stunned by the sudden influx of fluid and violent activity, slowed or paused their feeding.
“Well, well,” said the masked woman, reminding me of her presence for the first time in several minutes, “This was unexpected. An unusual response, I’m sure, and it can’t have been terribly pleasant for you to acknowledge. The circumstances are rather… unorthodox. I don’t suppose you feel like giving up your knowledge now?”
“I told you people! I know nothing! I have nothing to tell you! Please… please let me go. This is horrible. I’d rather die. It didn’t work, so can I PLEASE be released?”
“Unfortunately, I’m afraid we can’t do that. See, what we know about human physiology is that after climax, during sexual activity or… other forms of arousal, the body becomes much more susceptible to this particular type of irritation. You will find it much more difficult to endure this time. As of now, you have only met 75 of our little pets. It’s time for their friends to join them.”
I began to regain sensitivity, rapidly and ten-fold from before, and, amidst squirming and shrieking under the continued activity of the previous invasion, watched in horror as the hatch opened further, and further, and further, until the bottom of the box was gone, and the whole writhing mass of the lot of them spilled out all over my body.
“NO NO NO! NO NO NO DON’T DO THIS! YOU CAN’T DO THIS! NO NO OH GOOOOAAUUUUUGGHHHHHHHH!”
My protests were drowned out as I could only scream and laugh, my entire body now coated in a suit of furry scavengers, realizing that I had only yet known the barest sliver of hell, and now would suffer its full wrath, for God knows how long, repeating the humiliating process of torture and ecstasy over and over again…
Fin
-CallyGalaxy
***
I had been left to soak in the warm bath for a long time, which I tried not to indulge in enjoying. The tension in my muscles gradually left me, and the high concentration of Epsom salts soaked into my skin, making it soft and clean. The heat of the water was a welcome change from the cold dungeon I’d been imprisoned in. But I was unable to enjoy these things, as I knew the only reason for such luxury had to be some unthinkable torture I had not yet been able to dream up. My body was relaxed, but my mind spun and buzzed with anxiety.
Eventually, the heavy steel doors opened and the masked man and masked woman returned, their drab coats covering neck to knee, black boots covering their calves. Neither spoke as they lifted me from the tub by my arms – displaying unusual strength – and put me on my feet. They walked me over to what looked like showers – to wash off the excess salt, I assumed. I was placed in a shower unit and the door was closed and locked. I was instructed to keep my eyes closed.
As the water hit, I could tell immediately from its consistency that something was different. Deep in my gut, panic rose as I imagined the worst – acid? Poison? Liquid psychoactive drug delivery? I felt nothing unusual on my skin except for a light stickiness. Feeling the accumulation of the substance on my lips, I dared a quick probe with my tongue to discover, with confusion, that it was immensely sweet. Sugar water? Why? What possible purpose could this serve?
I was drenched in the saccharine substance for several minutes until a filmy layer coated every inch and every crevice of my body. I was wise not to open my eyes, for even parts of my face were hit with the splash, though most of the damage was from the neck down. The shower shut off, and I was released. The masked man and masked woman once again grabbed my arms, wearing surgical gloves, and led me to a long table that looked like ceramic, or porcelain. Cold to the touch. I was instructed to lie down by the masked man. I dared not resist, knowing there was no escape, accepting the hopelessness of my situation. I was fairly certain we were several hundred feet underground, encased in several feet of solid cement, and the only way out was a heavily guarded elevator. There would be nowhere to run.
Once laid on the table, the masked woman stretched my arms far above my head. My breath became ragged and, embarrassingly, my eyes stung and watered in fear, a tear falling from the corner of my eye down my temple to my ear. I could still not conjure any logical reason for this treatment, and thus my imagination assumed the worst. I was braced for pain, of any kind, that would crumble the endurance of even the strongest of men. I was never a strong man, myself. Here, naked and cold, helplessly trapped, they could submit me to anything, for as long as they liked. As I felt the restraints clamp down around my wrists, I wished myself dead.
My legs were lifted, hoisted in a slightly bent position, and my ankles tied to a raised bar situated across the lower end of the table. The vulnerable position filled my head with horrific images of genital mutilation or even rape. I hoped this would not be the case. I had not yet prepared myself for that.
The masked man and masked woman stepped back, and, with a button, lowered a glass encasement from the ceiling that effectively trapped me in a box. There was ventilation, thankfully, and a curious attachment to the ceiling of the box, a smaller metal case about two feet long and a foot wide. Forcing myself to halt my wild guessing, I waited with gritted teeth for the explanation to come.
“So. Let’s begin again. Why did you infiltrate our secure data centers?”
“I didn’t know. I didn’t mean to. I still don’t know who you are.”
“Lying is not advised. We are beyond this now. Let’s start simple. Who do you work for?”
“I told you, I’m an analyst for a marketing firm! I spend my day at a desk plotting graphs. I’m not some kind of secret agent! I must have accessed your files by mistake.”
“What was your name, again?”
I sighed. “Michael Goodwin. 29 years old. From Bend, Oregon.”
“Hmm. We have pulled the information on this person, and are reasonably sure he exists. We’re less convinced, however, that he’s you.”
“I don’t know what to tell you people! I can’t prove anything when you have me locked up!”
The masked woman turned to her companion and said sharply, “This conversation is not productive. He’s leading us by the nose. Less talk, more persuasion, I think.”
“I think I agree with you,” he replied.
The incident that led to my imprisonment had unfolded in a matter of hours. I was sent a file from my boss’s address with log-in information, and asked to “see if I could make sense of it, and let him know how it would influence our next report.” I had never received instructions this vague before, but was more than willing to stay late to do as I was told. I was two hours into overtime, nearing ten o’clock at night, trying to decipher the information I’d opened, when my office door banged open, a bag was slipped over my head, and sharp fumes entered my nose and mouth and I knew nothing more until I woke up in a dark cell.
In the present moment, I stared up in fear at the metal box over my head affixed to the glass ceiling. I dared not speak, or barely even breath, as the masked figures spoke to each other in low voices. Then I was addressed again.
“You may have discovered that you have been exposed to a large volume of a saccharine compound. It is non-toxic, non-lethal in and of itself. You will notice also that positioned above you is a container with a remote-controlled release function. This container now holds three hundred members of an arachnid species developed exclusively in our labs, unknown entirely to the wild.”
My heart skipped several beats in a row. Arachnid? How was it possible that they knew my greatest phobia? I struggled against my restraints, straining my muscles to try to break free, but as I suspected, it was no use. I waggled my fingers and toes uselessly, beginning to cry like an infant. I couldn’t form the words to protest. What would these spiders do to me? Why was I coated in sugar? I suspected, with horror, that they were meant to eat me alive.
“We anticipate your fears and assure you that no, you will not be eaten alive in this exercise. You must believe you are no good to us dead. This is a method of persuasion. You will not be harmed, but we will not hesitate to use this method as long as possible to achieve results.
These spiders are not carnivorous. They subsist instead on an artificial sugar that mimics the carbohydrate content of their usual prey. These spiders also lack piercing fangs, but otherwise have mouths similar to their wild counterparts. They are exceptionally hairy, with their entire bodies covered with a dense, bristle-like coat. They range from 3-5.5 centimeters in size. They have an acute sense of smell and taste, with which they seek their meal.
As you can imagine, they are essentially harmless. However, we have discovered that the physical sensation of contact with this species on the delicate skin of humans – like yourself, recently made more sensitive by the exfoliating properties of the bath salt – produces… interesting results. You may find this experience extremely unpleasant and difficult to endure. The sooner you decide to cooperate with us, the sooner this can all be over.”
And thus, everything became horrifyingly clear. I knew what was about to happen. I was covered in a large amount of these creatures’ only food source, and, naked and helpless and soaked raw, these small, terrifying, furry monstrosities were going to engulf my body in a writhing, seething, scuttling, tickling mass of merciless scouring. Why this? Why not ANYTHING but this?
I had always had hyper-sensitive nerves. As a kid, I was made fun of, called a girl and a baby for the way I squirmed at the slightest touch. Other boys in my class would pick me up by my limbs, twist their grubby kid fingers into my stomach and armpits, calling me all kinds of bad names while I screeched and flailed. The visions came back into my head as I thrashed against my restraints, wishing again I were dead, for reasons I never thought I’d have to consider. I was already picturing the squirming, skittering creatures coating my body with such unbearable sensations, and my nerves tingled and twitched like they were trying to crawl out of me to get away. I was painfully aware of how sensitive my skin had become after the long soak in the salt, and how thoroughly I was coated in the sugary syrup.
“Your reaction is encouraging. We can see that this may be an effective method for you. In case you were wondering, you are currently covered with enough food stuff for these spiders to feed for approximately two hours.”
Oh god, oh jesus no. I could barely stand a minute of ten digits alone prodding my body, how in the world could I stand two hours of – three hundred, times eight – 2,400 legs??? My only hope was that the fear would overwhelm me and I would pass out before the torture really began. No such luck.
I knew the moment when they’d pushed the button as a tiny gear in the box began to slowly open the hatch on the bottom. I watched in terror as the gruesome legs began scrambling for freedom as soon as there was room. The first few jumpers hit my stomach, and the hatch stopped there and closed again. I could tell this process would be slow and terrible. The panic in my gut rose unbearably, and I screamed as I strained to look down at the first five spiders that had landed on my belly.
They began to feed where they fell, and I could feel their tiny mouths sucking and scraping and prodding my skin. In their excitement to eat, their legs twitched and tap-danced in a way that might have otherwise been comical, but the feel of the bristly leg-hairs rubbing against my sensitive stomach made me begin, involuntarily, to succumb to laughter. I could even feel the bottom of their furry abdomens rub back and forth as they gorged themselves.
“No no no… ahahaha… no, please, oh god… hahahaHAHAHA JESUS! FUCK! Get them off me! HAHAHAhmhmhmahahaha…” I squirmed, but it only made the sensations worse, as every movement by me made them cling tighter with their tickly little feet.
The hatch began to open again, and several more fell out on top of me. Seeing the location already taken, these few ventured upwards, toward my neck. Two began feeding in and on my ears, creating horrible twitchy, itching sensations, as a few more, I couldn’t tell how many, settled at my neck, prodding the sensitive skin there between jaw and clavicle.
“NO! NO! NO! AHAHAHAHA huhuhuhuh HAAAA HAAA OH GOD NO! MAKE THEM STOP!” I shook my head back and forth violently, which only caused the spiders at my ears to dig their sticky feet into my ear canal to hold on. I thought I might go out of my mind, and I knew the worst had not even yet begun.
Several more were dropped onto my chest, where they scurried down my sides and took up root at my ribs, and, most disturbingly of all, into the deep hollows of my armpits. Their mouths roamed over my skin like little vacuums, planting their creepy monster kisses all over my poor, abused skin. The tangling of their hairy legs in the coarse and wild hair of my armpits produced unbearable tickling feelings. My chest heaved with laughter, my breathing was broken and shallow, and sweat began to form all over me. The spiders seemed undeterred by this. A few ventured up to the front of my chest, going to work on my sensitive areolas and nipples.
“JESUS FUCK NO OH GOD HAHAHAHAHAHA AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHA SHIT HMHMHMHMHUHUHUHOHOHO NOOOOOOOO…”
I had completely lost the ability to think about my captors, and what they might be thinking watching this process unfold. My conscious and rational thought was lost completely to the sensations driving me out of my mind! My belly rippled under the spiders’ ministrations, my sensitive nipples became hard and swollen, and my arms flailed helplessly, hoping to dislodge the spiders burrowing down to my skin through the hair in my pits.
Still, I knew it could only get worse. More spiders appeared, and these ventured south. I could feel them scurry in line down my quads, around my knee caps, and over my shins to my feet. This was one of the parts I had been most dreading. My feet are so sensitive I can barely walk barefoot in my own home, the littlest fiber makes them itch, and the littlest piece of dirt or gravel hurts to tread on. I knew I could feel their devil mouths and appendages more acutely here than anywhere else so far, and when they arrived, I knew I was right.
First exploring the top of my foot, causing my sinews and muscles to twitch and flex violently under them, and tickling the little divots around my ankles, a couple of them ventured to the soles, where they went to work on fiercely and voraciously sucking the sugar out of the little wrinkles in my arches, at which I howled like a wild animal, arching my back and slamming my head into the table. They settled at my toes, prying into the space between them with their furry legs, shuffling these legs back and forth in what I can only imagine was spiteful and intentional torture. Their mouths suckled the soft webbing between my toes and their undersides, and through my screaming and whooping, I thought I would have rather endured any pain, anything in the world but this.
“No more… no more… I can’t take it… ahahahaHAHAHAHOHOHO UGGHHHHHHH AHAHAHAHAHA SHIT!!!”
But I knew it was no use. My whole body now vibrated and twitched and writhed in ticklish agony. There was nowhere to escape. No way to move further away from the spiders’ handiwork. They were hungry, had probably been starved for this very occasion, and they would not stop until they had gorged themselves to death, I knew it. With despair, I realized that what felt like an eternity to me had likely been only a few minutes. I wept through my laughter, wondering how I could ever make it through the session.
But as the torture continued, something strange began to happen. After the initial shock of the sensations began to wear down, I began to feel another feeling along with the horrifically ticklish sensations. My body was beginning to flush, my heart beginning to pound, and I noticed, with horror, that the persistent teasing touches had begun to cause engorgement of my poor naked member. Why? What hell is this, where a litany of brainless monsters, my worst nightmare, were able to coax arousal within me? Was I merely reacting to the hopelessness of my situation? Was this kind of physical stimulation enough to mimic foreplay? Was I some kind of deviant at heart?
There was no fighting it. It was impossible to stop the process once it had started. These ticklish feelings, no matter how unbearable, no matter how dementedly torturous, always produced the same result – my hard cock begged for the same attention, the little teasing touches that sent me over the edge. It occurred to me, with a wave of self-loathing, that this might have eventually become a perfectly healthy fetish, that some nice lady might be willing to indulge if only I’d been able to face it and admit it, but now it was coming to fruition at the hands of masked madmen using genetically engineered monsters. There would be no relief for me, and I questioned whether I could retain my sanity at the end – if I made it that long.
The next wave of spiders added to the tank sought out the last places left unexplored. Yes, many settled on my legs, tormenting the insides and backs of my thighs, the hollows behind my knees – but the worst was beyond my wildest imaginings. My buttocks, exposed by the hoisting of my legs, received several visitors, whose tickling attention caused my ass to spasm wildly, squirming to throw them and resulting in even greater torture.
“AAAIIIIIIIII!!!!! AAAAAAAIIIIIIIIII HAHAHAHAH HEEHEEHEEHEE AAAUUUUGGHHHHH HAHAHAHA!!!”
I squealed like a dying animal, but it was only going to get worse from there. One of the visitors to my ass squeezed into my helpless and outrageously sensitive ass crack, seeking the sweetness that had pooled there after the glazing shower. No matter what I did, I could not dislodge it. I shrieked and shrieked, but every clench of my ass cheeks merely sent the spider into a scuttling frenzy, flailing its fuzzy legs wildly and further into the crack of my ass toward my puckering anus. When it finally reached the little defenseless asshole, already twitching with fear, the little arachnid mouth and tiny tickly feet sent me over the edge into a ticklish oblivion. My asshole puckered and pulsed, but the spider sucked at the tight little ring with abandon, caring nothing for my torment.
Worse still, several spiders surrounded my ball sack, seeking, I suppose, the sticky syrup that had accumulated there as well, in the crevices – I thought I must be going mad. Their legs tickled amongst the hair of my crotch, as they dug into the delicate skin of my taint, into the grooves at the top of my thighs, and as they scurried over my testicles to collect as much sugar as they could. This sensitive part of my anatomy could feel every miniscule motion of their little grabbing mouths, and every bristle that rustled on their fat bodies. My balls jerked and retreated up close to my body, but there was nowhere for them to escape.
“PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE GOD NO NONONONONONONO AHAHAHAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA AAAUUUUGHHHHHH!!!”
Finally, my rigid, tumid cock felt the scamper of its own little guests, the legs that wrapped around the swollen shaft, sending violent shots of lightning up my belly from the base of my member. Their little feet scrambled for a hold on the smooth skin, and as they sucked and nuzzled against the pulsing organ, I felt disgust at myself for the hot, greasy feeling in my loins reacting to what was essentially a blowjob from arachnids. The tickling sensation was over the top, but different, as with every twitch I could feel myself closer and closer to the edge – they were milking me, teasing my cock to coax out another sweet juice that I could not keep holding back forever.
One of the little demons perched atop the head, its little feet hooked outrageously and satanically around the hyper-sensitive ridge, and worked over the swollen head with its tiny jaws. When it used a leg to scissor gently, torturously into the defenseless slit at the tip, to seek the sugar that had become lodged there, I finally lost control completely.
Everything went white. My body was alive and electric with nothing but the feeling of tickling and the delicate, teasing ministrations on my cock. My whole body jerked and spasmed, all the sensations totaling together and collecting somewhere deep in my testicles, shooting through my gut, and exploding into the air, sending thick ropes of cum high above me and onto the glass, a few drops landing back on my lower belly.
“UNNNGHHHHHH YES YES YES YES YES FUCK FUCK FUCK UGHHHHHH… unghhhhh… unghhh…” I screamed at the top of my lungs, trailing off into defeated moans as all the energy left my body. The spiders, disturbed and stunned by the sudden influx of fluid and violent activity, slowed or paused their feeding.
“Well, well,” said the masked woman, reminding me of her presence for the first time in several minutes, “This was unexpected. An unusual response, I’m sure, and it can’t have been terribly pleasant for you to acknowledge. The circumstances are rather… unorthodox. I don’t suppose you feel like giving up your knowledge now?”
“I told you people! I know nothing! I have nothing to tell you! Please… please let me go. This is horrible. I’d rather die. It didn’t work, so can I PLEASE be released?”
“Unfortunately, I’m afraid we can’t do that. See, what we know about human physiology is that after climax, during sexual activity or… other forms of arousal, the body becomes much more susceptible to this particular type of irritation. You will find it much more difficult to endure this time. As of now, you have only met 75 of our little pets. It’s time for their friends to join them.”
I began to regain sensitivity, rapidly and ten-fold from before, and, amidst squirming and shrieking under the continued activity of the previous invasion, watched in horror as the hatch opened further, and further, and further, until the bottom of the box was gone, and the whole writhing mass of the lot of them spilled out all over my body.
“NO NO NO! NO NO NO DON’T DO THIS! YOU CAN’T DO THIS! NO NO OH GOOOOAAUUUUUGGHHHHHHHH!”
My protests were drowned out as I could only scream and laugh, my entire body now coated in a suit of furry scavengers, realizing that I had only yet known the barest sliver of hell, and now would suffer its full wrath, for God knows how long, repeating the humiliating process of torture and ecstasy over and over again…
Fin
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