View Full Version : HANNAH IN WANDERLUST 2: "Tree's Company" (much all over various species/F tickling)

07-24-2015, 06:06 PM

Part Two: "Tree's Company"

featuring Professor Hannah Davis and the Vellication Irregulars

by Tee Hee Lawrence

[While I will bring newcomers up to speed, if you'd like to find out how Hannah got in her predicament--or wish to refresh your memory (since I've been so, ah, deliberate in continuing this saga)--find Part One here (http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?263901-quot-Hannah-In-Wanderlust-quot-*-F-feet-and-elsewhere&highlight=wanderlust).]

Weary and footsore, Hannah was grumbling about sneaker-stealing and tootsie-tickling creatures when she came upon a scarecrow perched on a pole in a compact, crow-beset cornfield. Indeed, two of the crows were sitting quite contentedly on the shoulders of the scarecrow. One bird was sporting a bowler, vest and spats. The other was adorned by a plumed tiara, a strand of pearls, and sapphire anklets.

Figuring she WAS, after all, in a land where the damnedest things spoke--and feeling quite sorry for the disrespected scarecrow, Hannah said to it, "Hey, Mr. Scarecrow, assert yourself! Don't let 'em walk all over you!"

"Stupid woman expects this straw man to answer her," muttered the bowlered crow.

"Hehheh," chuckled the jeweled bird. "Maybe her head is lightweight like this one's. " She pecked at it and pulled out a beakful of straw.

"Lightweight, huh?" Hannah sneered, as she began rolling up her sleeves to exercise her dander. "Now, Ah may not be MO'NE Davis, but Ah used to be a pretty fair country pitcher." She was perusing the ground for something to throw, when a woody limb dangled an apple before her. "Here. Try this," rasped the holder.

Hannah happily accepted the apple, with only a slight double take when she realized that her benefactor WAS, in fact, the apple tree by the rail fence between the path and the cornfield. The tree, its trunk bearing a decidedly human face, urged, "Go on, red! Let those birdbrains have it! They've been fouling my branches all day!"

Features set in concentration, Hannah wound up and hurled the apple at the crows. It knocked the bowler off the vested one, who cawed in protest as he flapped aloft. Hannah plucked a second apple off the limb and quick-pitched it, barely missing the other's tiara as she swooped to join her mate. "Ah quote, 'Howza 'bout THEM apples?'" chortled Hannah. The crows, cawing discordant obscenities, flew away.

Hannah took a third apple and, leaning wearily against the fence, bit hungrily into it. She summoned up a Flannery O'Connor story stored on her phone, and happily distracted herself with it as she munched.

After a few minutes, she glanced at the scarecrow and murmured, "Ah don't suppose that you can tell me the way to the Capitol." The straw man remained silent. "Ah LIKE a quiet man, but you're hopeless."

She turned to the tree, but its "face" now was barely discernable on its thick trunk. "You're not talkin', either, Ah guess. 'Figures. This place is just a tad screwy." She found the path, and continued her journey.

A few moments after she'd departed, the scarecrow declared, "The Capitol, huh? Well, if I were you--huh? You left in a hurry! You could have given a guy time to think." He shrugged, causing some straw to waft off of him, and continued his hobby. Bird watching was solitary, and it helped to pass the time. A crow landed on his shoulder, and he sighed.

Savoring the apple to its core, Hannah walked along the path. Her tender feet were grateful that the path was softened by leaves and moss. She came upon a serene, sun-dappled pool, fed by a quaint, little waterfall. Dipping a toe in the water, she found it surprisingly warm. Feeling more than a mite grungy after her improbable landing in this strange world, she happily gave into impulse and, shucking off her clothes, slipped with a contented sigh into the clear, comforting water.

When she finally emerged from the pool, she stretched out on a tabletop rock in the sun to dry herself. Eyes closed, she composed a blog entry in support of having Frances Perkins be the face on a revised twenty-dollar bill. She hoped that she'd get home to post it, soon.

She felt something tickle the tenderness of her ass. She whooped and leaped off the rock.

"Excuse me," the rock said, stonily. "but you were sitting on my mosstache." It twitched the mossy growth between the nose and upper lip on the face now apparent on its granite surface.

"Ah'm SO sorry!" Hannah blurted, red with embarrassment at both her nudity and her face-sitting. "Ah still haven't gotten used to how things work here. I mean, folks here take such, ah, different forms from what Ah'm accustomed to. Ah didn't meant to scream, but Ah'm a bit ticklish."

"So I see," said the rock, winking. "And you needn't apologize. I get sat upon quite often. It's my convenient location, you see. Why, a little while ago, a raccoon rested upon me while muttering about being terribly, terribly late."

"Raccoon!" Hannah shouted, grasping the rock face with her hands. "How long ago? Ah've got to catch up to him!"

"Oh, not long," mused the rock, his mica eyebrows knitting gratingly. "Today, probably. Or was it last week?"

Hannah rolled her eyes, then realized that a rock's geologic sense of time probably made recent small intervals a little hazy. She asked, "Well, did you see where he went?"

"Down the path," the rock assured her. "In the same direction as those clothes flew away."

"Clothes?" Hannah cried, dashing over to where she'd entered the pool. There, she was dismayed to find her clothes missing. "Of all the cheap, obvious ways for an author to get and keep his female protagonist naked!" she muttered. "And what an oxymoronic turn of phrase! How can found clothes be MISSING?" She picked up her smartphone and owlish eyeglasses, fortunately still poolside. Not having a pocket to slide her phone into, she tapped, as she walked, a few choice words about the shameless author into it for future intemperate tweeting.

A few minutes along the path, she was relieved to find her panties--white with red gardenias--hanging atop a blue hydrangea shrub. "How did they get THERE?" she wondered. With some effort, she was able to jump and pluck them off a bloom. Stepping into them, she felt amused by her restored sense of modesty. "Civilization can be measured by a thin sheath of cotton."

She walked further for a few minutes, increasingly dispirited at not finding the rest of her clothing. Thus, when she heard a corvid cacophony, and looked up, she was delighted when she saw her shirt and jeans draped over a bough of a venerable plane tree. The two crows she'd tussled with earlier seemed to be arguing over her clothes.

"Let's sell them at the farmer's market!" cawed the male.

"Are you daft?" the female sneered. "Can't you see they're imported? We'll get twice as much in the Capitol!"

"HEY! Those are MINE!" Hannah shouted up to the bickering birds.

"Well, you threw them away," reasoned the jeweled one, setting one foot possessively on the jeans.

"Ah've got a notion to...," Hannah searched about briefly for something to hurl at the birds. She picked up a stick and flung it at them, but it missed, far short.

"Hmm. You threw THAT away, too," coolly observed the male crow, preening his feathers, unconcerned.

"All rahght!" Hannah announced, spitting into her hands. "If Ah can't bring you DOWN, Ah'll pull mahself UP." She found a toehold in the thick trunk of the aged tree and, muttering choice oaths learned from her tempetuous Cousin Clytemnestra, began climbing up.

The tree seemed to shimmy in her grasp. She heard a brittle female voice giggle, "Heeheehee! You're tickling meheehee!" Hannah saw a laughing face manifest itself in the bark alongside her. The bemused professor marveled, "A ticklish tree, huh? Wait'll mah botanist pal Gelsomina finds out about THIS!" She continued to climb, the tree writhing and giggling under her fingers and toes as they found new holds.

In spite of the tree's giggly entreaties that she desist, Hannah reached the bough bearing her stolen clothes. When she began to ease herself along the bough towards her prize, the bough started shaking. "Tickle me, will you?" huffed the tree. "You can just leave right NOW!" The crows noisily flapped away, but Hannah was determined to hang on. "HEY! DON'T! Let me get mah clothes at least!"

Thick green vines were curled around the bough. Hannah desperately prised them up and slid her legs under them. Thus entangled, she wasn't shaken off, and she was able to reach for her shirt. She was just donning it when the tree suddenly redoubled its efforts, causing her to swing under the bough. "Whoooaaa!" she cried. Fortunately, the vines firmly looped around her legs, so she was spared a nasty fall.

Another vengeful shake by the tree, though, cost her handhold. Thus, she was suspended upside-down, her long auburn bangs dangling several feet above the ground, to which her phone and eyeglasses fell. Only her bare feet, pink, wrinkly tender soles up, remained upon the bough of the tree.

"Oh, mah Gahd! This IS a pickle!" Hannah thought. "At least the silly tree's stopped tryin' to shake me off."

The tree, however, was very definitely NOT done. She moved neighboring branches behind Hannah and began, with an evil chuckle, to poke the dangling professor's sides. "Let's see how YOU like being tickled! Hehhehheh!"

"Oh, mah! Stop thahhahat! Stahahahahahahahap!"

Hannah was desperately fighting off the branches poking her sides through her unbuttoned shirt. Thus, she was gigglingly preoccupied when the tree directed other branches to tease the Professor's unprotected tits and tummy with the uneven edges and veiny softness of their green leaves. Hannah hilariously hung there as her ribs and nipples and belly button were tickled with a cunning, concerted combination of indirection and malice.

"Ohhohohonodon'tnodon't! Eeeeheeheeheeheeeeee! Ahhahahahahahahaaa!"

The tree brought more branches to apply rough-and-soft leafy tickle torture to Hannah's tender thighs and the touchy backs of her knees. Hannah howled with laughter as her hands flailed with decreasing strength at her deciduous tickler.


In her hysteria, Hannah couldn't say how long the vengeful tree tickled her. It certainly FELT like an eternity before the branches and leaves stilled and withdrew. She remained upside-down, somewhat dizzy, breathless, and red-faced, her nipples erect, her panties damp, and her tummy aching from her laughter.

She struggled to compose herself enough to try and right herself. She was worried that all her giggly gyrating had loosened the vines holding her lower legs, and she'd soon crash headfirst. As she focused on somehow swinging enough to regain a handhold on the bough upon which now only her feet rested, her fears were of falling and the tree's renewed interest in tickling her silly.

Thus, she was quite unprepared when the two stylish, thieving crows flapped down and perched on the bough on either side of her upturned, unprotected soft soles.

"Well, hehheh, look who's STILL hanging around!" chuckled the male crow, whose dented bowler was set at a cocky angle. "The bony BIMBO who pitches apples at innocent bystanders."

"Bimbo!" Hannah fumed, below. "Whah, you winged wastrel--"

"Oh, haha, you mean the DORK who strews her clothes any place," tittered his tiara-topped partner. "The one who doesn't believe in 'finders, keepers'."

Hannah awkwardly reached up as if to throttle the birds, and spluttered, "D-DORK? When Ah get loose and get mah hands on you--"

"Ooo, lookie!" continued the jeweled bird, closely regarding the wrinkly expanses of Hannah's upturned soles. "She's in a somewhat, hehheh, vulnerable position."

"Ah, quite right, hehheh! She IS a ticklish one, isn't she?" snickered her mate, bringing his head next to hers to peer delightedly at Hannah's helpless soles. "Surely, no one could blame us if we took mischievous advantage of this conveniently compromised coocoo." He ventured his beak to lightly poke the ball of Hannah's left foot.

"Heyhehheh!" Hannah giggled, in spite of herself. "None of THAT! And who you callin' a CUCKOO?" She was trying even more tenaciously to grab onto the branches extending from the bough. She got the feeling, though, that the tree was silently pulling them just out of her reach.

"Why, YOU, dear!" the female bird said slyly. “You’re a COOchie COOchie COOCOO!" She began pecking with tickly precision along Hannah's right sole.

"Oh, nono! Teeheeheehee! Stop! Hahaha! Don’t do that! Heeheeheehee!" Hannah surrendered to helpless giggles.

"Coo! Coo! Coochie coo! Coochie coochie coochie COOOOO!" the birds persistently teased, as they cruelly tickled Hannah's soft, sensitive soles.

When they weren't masterfully and maliciously pecking Hannah's spasming toes and roiling soles with maddening lightness, they were sweeping the tickly tips and blades of their wing feathers along her arches and down the outer edges of her very touchy bare feet. This unabated avian assault quickly rendered the topsy-turvy academic quite helplessly hilarious.

"Ohpleeheesehahhahhah! Pleeheeheese stahahhahahp! Stop hahhahhah tihihickling mah feeheeheeheet ahahahahahahhahahahahahhaahhahahahahahahahhaaaaaa!"

"Oh, noooo, hohoho!" crowed the male. "Peck-peck-peck! Tickle-tickle-tickle!" He tattooed tickles along Hannah's instep.

"Should we leave with the clothes NOW or AFTER we tickle you to death?" teased the female, fiendishly feathering the delicate tips of Hannah's scrunching toes.


Fueling Hannah's howling hysteria was her terror that, not only were her legs slipping with agonizing, slow certainty from under the vines, but that, as she fell, perhaps to her doom, she'd embarrassingly explode with a simply spectacular orgasm engendered by ALL THIS TICKLING! All indeed seemed lost when--

"Shoo!" a velvet voice purred.

The female crow fell back off the bough as if struck. "OW! Who the devil--?"

The male, gleefully pecking just below the balls of Hannah's bare feet, suddenly tumbled forward head-over-claws, nearly falling to the ground before recovering with frantic flapping. "Whoof!" With his mate, he perched warily on another bough. "OK. Show yourself! How dare you strike us!"

A black panther with purple polka dots materialized on the bough, standing on Hannah's draped blue jeans.

"I don't like bullies, especially those taking unfair advantage of someone in a precarious ticklish situation." He gave a sniff at Hannah's toes, his whiskers twitching upon them.

Hannah squealed, "HEHEHEH-HEY!"

"Sorry," purred the panther, winking at her.

"We've got RIGHTS! She'd BULLIED us!" the bowlered crow cawed.

"And she's trying to steal those clothes from us!" his mate added.

"Which you stole first FROM her, I presume," the panther rumbled, pawing at the jeans as he considered them.

"'Possession is nine-tenths of the law,'" quoted the male crow.

"I see," the panther mused, sitting besides Hannah's feet and resting his front paws firmly on her jeans. "I believe that I possess them NOW." He unsheathed his claws. "Unless you'd like to argue the point further?"

The crows spat out ornate obscenities and flew away, loudly.

The panther dangled his tail alongside Hannah's dangling form. He twitched his tail so its tip teased her tummy. "What's a ticklish girl like you doing in a position like this?" He dragged the pads of a paw playfully along her pink soles from heels to toes.

"Heeheehee!" Hannah tittered, batting at the tail. "Don't YOU start!"

"I'm sorry. You're SO ticklish. It's hard to resist," offered the cat, playfully persisting in tickling her toes and her tummy.

Hannah giggled in protest. "Ah'm hehhehheh about tohoo FALL! And yoohoo're not hehhehelping!"

"Ah, but I SHALL!" he announced, wrapping his tail around her. There was a burst of purplish light, and he, Hannah, and her jeans vanished...
...only to materialize instantly and safely at the foot of the tree.

"Satisfied?" asked the panther, smugly licking a paw.

"Huh?" responded a bewildered Hannah, unsure in what context his question was intended, and trying to calm her libido, overheated by her frequent tickling hereabouts. "Oh. Yeah. Thanks." She began to modestly button her shirt.

The panther bowed and intoned, "At your service." He cocked his head at a heroic angle. "My friends call me the Peripatetic Panther."

"Really?" a skeptical Hannah asked, looking him up and down his polka-dotted coat. "I was guessing they call you 'Spot." She tugged at the jeans under him. "Do you mind?"

He stepped off them, and said, "Careful, woman. I know where you're ticklish." He extended a velvet paw perilously close to her ribs as she stood, pulling her jeans on.

Hannah hopped away, crying, "Dohon't! Why is EVERYONE here tickling me?" She finally got the jeans on, sighing, "Ah thought that feckless writer would NEVER relent."

To the panther, she said, "Thanks to you, Ah'm still Hannah Davis, Associate Professor of American History at Commonwealth College in The Berkshires in the good ol' USA. Ah'll ask you where you learned that neat disappearing act, but, first..."

Hannah moved to stand hands-on-hips in front of the tree. She said, to the concerned face appearing in the bark, "Give me ONE good reason, honeh, whah Ah shouldn't tickle you to death?" Hannah wiggled her fingers ever-so-close to the trunk.

"You-you wouldn't!" the tree bleated, shivering, her leaves rustling.

"Pardon me, Professor Davis," interrupted the panther, "but I'm curious. How did you get here? I've never seen you--or heard your laughter--in these woods before."

Hannah blushed, contenting herself with a poke at the nervously-giggling tree, before turning to the panther and saying, "Would you believe me if I told you that I fell here from my garden while chasing a harried, toe-tickling raccoon..."

The panther, poker-faced, stayed silent.

"...that Ah had mah sneakers snatched off mah feet by a gibbon with a gambling problem..."

Hannah picked up her eyeglasses, wiped them on her shirt, and donned them, blinking.

"... and that, unless Ah track these guys to 'The Capitol..."--She mimed quotes in the air.--"...I won't get mah shoes back..."--She raised a bare foot and wiggled her toes.--"...or find mah way home."

"Hmm." the panther mused. "I figured it was something like that."

Hannah, in the process of picking up her smartphone, gave him a squinty, skeptical look. He somehow remained poker-faced. She reflexively checked for new messages before realizing the futility.

"Well, I happen to know the way to the Capitol, at least," he growled, heartily. "And I can get us there quickly..."--He disappeared, leaving a fading purple shimmer in his wake, before reappearing behind her amidst a new purple glow.--"...and unobtrusively."

Hannah reached out to the place he'd been, only to be startled by his voice behind her. She whirled and cracked, "Whoa! So, you're the original real gone cat, huh?"

He gave her a look. "Professor of, ahem, History, did you say? My brief impression of you is hardly the dignified academic." He flicked his tail under her raised right sole.

"Hehhehhey!" she cried, with a hop. Turning serious, she placed a hand on the side of his head. "Ah really am a professor. Or, at least, Ah will be again with your help. And, in return, Ah'll introduce you to the good folks at Furever Stylish, the best salon for four-footed friends near the campus, so they can deal with those silly spots you gots."

She managed to keep HER face straight for another moment before bursting into giggles, which turned to cries of laughter when he slipped his tail under her shirt to tickle her tummy.

He extracted his tail, wrapped it around her torso, and pronounced, "Deal. Andiamo."

She was just saying, "We must do something about this tickle fetish of yours..." before they vanished with a purplish pop, as the tree sighed in relief and, in the near distance, the two crows could still be heard kvetching.

To be continued...

07-24-2015, 06:35 PM
For those interested in reading--or REreading--Hannah's first three misadventures, they are

"Sabbatickle" (http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?14567-Hannah-Davis-returns-in-a-substantially-revised-quot-Sabbatickle-quot-(FF-gt-F-feet)&highlight=sabbatickle)

"A Ticklish Matriculation" (http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?16015-Hannah-Davis-returns-in-quot-A-TICKLISH-MATRICULATION-quot-revised-amp-extensively-expanded&highlight=sabbatickle)

and "A Jar Full of Laughter". (http://www.ticklingforum.com/showthread.php?16358-Hannah-Davis-in-her-third-misadventure-samples-quot-A-Jar-Full-of-Laughter-quot&highlight=sabbatickle)

(There WILL be a pop quiz after class, so bring your feathers.)

07-25-2015, 07:47 AM
Wonderful story! I'm looking forward to part three. :D

07-25-2015, 10:32 AM
Sir.....your imagination astounds me

07-26-2015, 08:42 AM
TeeHee is a legend!

07-26-2015, 01:23 PM
Wonderful story! I'm looking forward to part three. :D<p>

Thank you, mila! I was sneakily trying to post this so you wouldn't notice it, but that's just ridiculous. You notice--and give welcome feedback to--EVERYTHING on the Forum. You are a boon to us humble kitchey-coo scribes.

Sir.....your imagination astounds me
Milady, I think that the only astounding thing about my writing is how slow I am at it. I've been working on new entries in some long-hanging series since we were all using dial-up connections. But, coming from you, a composer of some of the most passionate prose melodies on this Forum, your compliment makes me blush.<p>

TeeHee is a legend!

sole, many tha--Waitaminnut! Don't you have to be DEAD to REALLY be a legend?

07-26-2015, 01:37 PM
Awesome job! Love the choice of floral underwear that Hannah adorns. Hopefully she ends up in them at some point again!

07-26-2015, 06:39 PM
The way things have been going for Hannah, mguy, she'll be lucky if she isn't stripped of everything but her gardenias again before long. <br> Hell, if she isn't careful--and, for a thoughtful academic, Hannah is amazingly lacking in careful--the gardenias and even her Southern accent aren't safe!<p>

Thanks for the bouquet, guy.

08-09-2015, 10:40 AM