KingBobOnTheCob
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A Tickle Story
This is a work of fiction. No animal, vegetable or mineral was harmed, maltreated or detained in any way by the creation or execution of this story.
Anonymous writer.
Misha's eyelids drooped as he tried to show some interest in the tour guide's explanation of the jungle he now felt himself sweltering in. His fur was matted with sweat and felt like he was wearing a coat. His tail barely had the energy to move, it was so humid. The poor fox's tongue had rolled out the corner of his mouth as he drifted somewhere in between being awake and being asleep.
“This really isn't my idea of a vacation.” He brooded. His original plan was to spend his vacation with friends back home. But they had all found other things to do, so Misha had to hastily find someplace to travel to or, he shuddered, find a job.
Partially at his parents' behest he booked a tour to some exotic jungle, so he could spend his vacation listening to his tour guide drone on about the mystery and magic of the jungle or some such crap.
Looking out the window he saw nothing but thick green foliage. This bus went straight through the heart of the jungle without so much as a gas station located within. It was halfway through an eight hour-long drive through the jungle and Misha had zoned out about twenty minutes after they set out.
The jungle, fascinating at first, started to bore him since it all looked the same to him. It was just a green and brown blur to him. He listened with half an ear as the tour guide, an attractive looking female jaguar, explained about the different types of trees and jungle plants.
Unsuccessfully fighting back a yawn, Misha closed his eyes and slid into a light snooze. He rested his head against the window and fell asleep. Sometime later, he felt a hand on his shoulder gently nudging him awake. Yawning and absently rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Misha adjusted his glasses and looked to see who had woke him up. It was the tour guide.
“Excuse me, sir? Are you all right?” Misha nodded, not yet capable of speaking. She was a stunning jaguar femme in her mid twenties. All vestiges of sleep soon vanished as he found himself lost in her big brown eyes. A quick glance to her chest revealed a nametag displaying the name Josephine.
“I'm fine.” He finally managed, his voice cracking. She smiled.
“We've come to a clearing, the only one in the entire jungle so we've come to a brief stop. The rest of the group has gotten out to stretch their legs and take a look around.” Briefly glancing at the rest of the bus, Misha saw that everyone else had indeed gone. Continuing, she said, “Since this is our only stop on the tour, you may want to take the chance to get up and walk around. Besides,” she added with a grin. “You can get a closer look at the jungle. Just be sure not to wonder off, we won't be staying long. Bye!”
Misha didn't get up right away, he was more than content to stay in his seat and watch her walk down the aisle and off the bus. Then he unbuckled himself and headed off himself. Taking her words to heart, he put his hands behind his head and stretched, absently popping a few joints as he did so.
Walking around, he saw the other two dozen or so tourists looking up at the treetops, camera out and snapping pictures as if they were afraid that the trees would vanish at any minute.
Snorting derisively at a bunch of generally old folk who found trees fascinating, Misha took a walk, hoping to run into Josephine again. He spent the next couple of minutes looking in vain. Disappointed, but not terribly put off, he went over to the tree line. After all, she would be back on the bus, he was sure he'd find a reason to talk to her again before the trip was done.
His mind was distracted from any thoughts of jaguars by a growing urge in his bladder. He hadn't used a bathroom since he got on the bus, which unfortunately didn't have one, and faced with the prospect of another four hours to go, the pressure in his bladder increased to the point where he was fairly hoping from foot to foot.
Quickly glancing around to make sure no one was watching, Misha darted into the trees. After dashing about fifty or so meters, he stopped behind a tree and unzipped his jeans. He then proceeded to relieve himself against the tree. “Aahh.” He breathed in, well, relief.
After he was finished, he strolled back to the bus, leisurely taking in the sights of giant trees, covered in moss and crisscrossed with vines. His eyes still straining upwards he didn't notice something was amiss until he was standing in the middle of the clearing.
The bus was gone.
His jaw dropped as he darted his eyes around nervously. No sign of the bus anywhere. “Crap!” He swore. There wasn't another tour for days and there was no way out of the jungle. The tire tracks gave him a vague idea where the bus was headed but even if he knew their exact route, it would take days to walk to the end of the jungle. And from what little he paid attention to Josephine's tour speech, the jungle was full of dangerous animals.
Misha's breathing grew shallow as he felt a panic attack come on, the adrenaline building up, he dashed full speed along the faint tire tracks, hoping against hope that he could somehow catch up with the bus. He ran for a good half hour before his adrenaline rush wore off and he “crashed” as it were. Unable to carry on, he leaned against a tree and took the chance to catch his breath as he took stock of his situation.
“No food, no water, no idea where I am.” His lower lip trembled as he hugged his bushy tail to his chest. “I really wish I had listened to Josephine's tour now.”
Misha had started to pace himself, not able to run full tilt again. He walked another three hours until night began to fall. He rubbed his arms as a chill entered the air. The stirrings of nocturnal animals began and Misha decided that it was best not to be stumbling around in the dark with predators on the prowl. Picking a spot in between two massive roots of a tree, he pulled a large leaf from a shrub and used it as a makeshift blanket in an equally makeshift bed.
The growls, hoots, and assorted noises of jungle beasts scared the shivering fox so bad his red fur started blanch until he looked like the ghost of an albino. He huddled under the leaf in a fetal position, hoping to present as little of himself as possible.
He bit his lip to prevent himself from crying or whimpering. Misha was wide eyed with fear. He never thought he'd get any sleep. Yet somehow all the fear and lack of energy just added to his fatigue and after an hour or two, he drifted off to sleep.
Morning's rays woke Misha the following morning. The sun was already up and Misha found that he had not had his feet or hands chewed off, much to his relief. Resolving to get back on the track of the bus and find his way out of here, Misha stood up and promptly wrinkled his nose as he got a good whiff of himself. Sleeping in the same dirty clothes had done nothing for his sense of smell and he had no opportunity to take a shower.
His ears twitched as he caught the sound of running water. There was a river nearby, he guessed, correctly. After walking for ten minutes through a thicket of trees, Misha saw a rushing river.
Misha's first instinct was to strip off his dirty clothes and jump in, but refrained. One of the few things he remembered from the tour was that leeches, snakes, and several other aquatic creatures with sharp teeth. Not wanting to loose his tail, or something even more important, he sat down and thought it over.
In a quick burst of inspiration, Misha grabbed a hollowed out gourd shell and used it to scoop out water from the river. A quick glance told him there was nothing in it, and he then guzzled it down greedily. Delicious.
Misha stripped off his shirt and tossed it to the ground. He kicked off his shoes and pulled off his socks. Fumbling around with his button and zipper, he pulled his pants down and stepped out of them. He paused for a minute, letting the brisk breeze blow through his fur. It felt good, but a shower would feel even better. With that thought in mind, he pushed his underpants down and gently tossed them and his glasses off to the side. Naked, he sat down next to the river and used the gourd to gather more water. Standing up, he shut his eyes and poured the icy cold water on his head.
The sensation certainly removed any last traces of weariness, and set his teeth chattering. Nevertheless, he repeated the gesture another four or five times, until his fur was completely soaked. Deciding that this was probably the only chance he would get, Misha dunked his clothes into the water and hung them over a tree branch to dry. Shaking his fur dry, Misha laid down on the grass to let the sun's rays finish the job.
“Strange.” Misha thought to himself. He was still lost and alone, but somehow, lying naked in the sun, letting it dry his fur out after an impromptu shower, he felt oddly at ease. Save for the slight discomfort he felt at being so…exposed. He wasn't a fox who was very comfortable with his body. Being nude made him feel very self-conscious, like someone was watching him. Closing his eyes, he rested his head on his arms and took a light nap as his clothes dried.
The breeze ruffled his fur gently, in an almost caressing manner. He arched his back, as if trying to catch more of the wind. Laying on the grass, as nice as it was, wouldn't get him out of the jungle. With a sigh, he sat up on the grass and stretched. Walking over to the branch with his clothes, he saw that they looked wrinkled, but largely dry. Grabbing his underwear, he pulled the briefs up, crinkling slightly. Grabbing his jeans and shirt he quickly dressed himself, putting his socks and shoes on at a leisurely pace.
Guessing from the sun's position in the sky, it was late morning already. Setting a brisk pace for himself, Misha tried to follow the faint tracks left by the bus, with an emphasis on the word “try”. The tracks were nearly impossible to see and there were places where the tracks ended. He had to guess at the direction the bus ended.
Misha was worried as time wore on. All the jungle looked the same from his vantage point, and he didn't know for sure where he was headed. All he could do was hope for the best. But when a wrong turn potentially meant being lost in the jungle for days, possibly weeks, or more, he was more than a little timid.
When night began to fall, he followed the same procedure he had the night before, curling up under a large leaf, trembling with fear at the prospect of being somebody's late night snack. Come the next morning, he headed off again. He repeated the process again the next day. By the middle of the fifth day, Misha had come to the conclusion that he was, undeniably and totally lost.
Despondent and afraid, he unknowingly entered further and further into the heart of the jungle. He finally came to a stop when he spied a fallen tree, perfect place to sit down for a while. Gloomy beyond all reason he gave a heartfelt sight a held his face in his hands, trying to hold back tears.
“This is hopeless!” He croaked, speaking for the first time in days. Not having anyone to talk to was bad enough, but he smelled, he hadn't had a change of clothes in nearly a week, the meager fruits he ate were barely enough to sustain him, and now he was completely lost in the middle of a fierce jungle.
His breath caught as he carefully listened for any other signs of a stalking predator. Deciding not to wait to be eviscerated, Misha starting running, pumping his legs as fast as he could.
Heart pounding in his chest, Misha ran far and fast, he then made the fatal mistake of turning his head and trying to look over his shoulder to see if there was anything following him. Because of this, he never saw the large tree directly in his path until it was too late. He collided headlong into the thick trunk, darkness clouded his vision and he slipped into unconsciousness.
A splitting headache was the first thing Misha felt when he regained consciousness. He opened his eyes slowly, wincing at the sudden light that flooded his eyes. He found himself lying on his back, his shirt was missing and he could feel the soft grass underneath him. His headache faded after a few minutes, though he still felt slightly groggy.
“Awake I see.” A voice came from somewhere behind his head. Misha tried to get up, but found that his wrists were tied and bound above his head, a wooden stake driven into the ground that the rope was tied to.
“Who's there?” Misha called, raising his voice in an attempt to cover his fear.
“Aww, I'm hurt, you don't recognize me?” A feminine voice asked. Misha strained his head as a familiar form leaned over him.
“Josephine!” Misha exclaimed in surprise and hope. “Oh thank you! I've been lost for days! Now you can show me the way out of here, all you have to do is untie me-”
“I'm afraid I can't do that Misha.” Josephine said with a shake of her head. “You see I'm the one who tied you up.”
“You-why did you tie me up? And why you take my shirt?” He shivered and it wasn't due to the wind. Josephine's eyes narrowed and Misha gulped in fright.
“I had the bus driver leave you behind and I've been following you ever since.”
“You…what?” Misha said, his face flushing red as he realized that she had undoubtedly seen him naked as he bathed and dried himself. If she noticed his discomfort, she gave no sign.
“Do you remember my lecture from the tour about the legends of the jungle?” Misha frowned, not seeing the relevancy, but tried to dredge up the memory anyway. But the tour seemed like it was months ago and he hadn't been paying attention. He shook his head.
“Not really. Sorry.”
“No, you're not.” Josephine said curtly. “The jungle isn't just a random collection of trees and shrubs. It's a living entity, conscious and aware. It's alive .” Misha raised a skeptical eyebrow.
“Alive?” Josephine nodded.
“Yes, it's alive and aware of all that happens within its borders. My people have lived in the heart of the jungle, tending it, protecting it, for generations. I conducted tours so that outsiders would learn to respect and appreciate the jungle. But you,” her eyes narrowed even more in feline fury. “I knew from the start that you were just a selfish brat who never cared about the jungle and would never bother to even learn to care about it.”
Misha fidgeted uncomfortable under her intense gaze, not even bothering to deny it. Josephine exhaled an angry breath and continued. “When you got off the bus I followed you. I saw what you did.” Misha's face blushed incandescently at the thought of Josephine watching him relieve himself out in the wild. Seeing his reddened face she snarled. “Yes, I saw your indiscretion, your befoulment of a sacred tree!” Her hands clenched into fists.
“You arrogant little brat! Using the jungle as if it were a restroom for your personal convenience!” Visibly trying to restrain her angle, Josephine paused. “For that transgression, I as a guardian of the jungle, decree that you shall be punished by the jungle you wronged.”
“P-punished?” Misha stuttered fearfully. “What do you mean?” Josephine smiled, choosing to let him figure it out himself. The ground on either side of Misha cracked and split open. Two smaller crevices opened near his legs, it was then that he noticed that his socks and shoes were gone.
His breathing grew shallow in fear as something emerged from the cracks. It was a green vine, or possibly a tentacle of some kind since it was moving, something an ordinary vine couldn't do. But who ever said these vines were ordinary? Even as one vine appeared in the crevice to his left, two more appeared on his right side and two additional ones popped out of the two holes near his legs.
Not knowing what was about to happen, but still fearful, he turned his head back to Josephine to beg for mercy. Josephine smiled evilly and shook her head slowly.
Misha's attention was suddenly snapped back to the creeping vines as one brushed his left armpit. Surprised and unawares, he was unable to hold back his frantic giggling.
“HEEHEEHEEK!” Buoyed by this display, the vine on his right chose to tickle his other armpit. It was only then that he began to understand the dire straights he was in.
“NO! N-NOT THAHAHAT! P-PUH-LEASE, HAHAAHA! ANY-HAHA-THING B-BUT THAHAHAT!!!” His pleas fell on deaf ears as both tentacles darted and probed the ticklish areas under both of his arms.
“HAHAAHAAHAAAAHA! STAHAHAPP! P-PLEASE I'M TOO—HAHAHAAHAHHHAAA—TOO TICKLISH AHAHA!” His peals of laughter doubled as the vines near his feet started stroking his sensitive arches. The spaces between his toes were prodded and explored, causing the laughter to practically explode out of him.
“HAHAHAHAHOOOHAHOOHEEEK!!!”
His torture reached a feverous level as another vine hovered over his belly. Misha's eyes practically bulged out of his skull for fear of what he knew was going to come. The instant the other vine on his right side gently poked his stomach, one of his “sweet spots”, his laughter took an insane-sounding pitch as he laughed and screamed all at once, barely noticing the fact that he had wet his pants during the ordeal.
“HAAHAAAHAAAHEEEHOOOHEEHOO!!! STAAHAHAP!!! STAHAP!!!” He screamed. “N-NOOOOEEEEEEEEEKKKK!!! PUH-PLEASE, HEEEHEHEEHEHOO! P-PLEAASE N-NO MORE!!!” Tears were rolling down his reddened cheeks as his stomach heaved, which simply made it an even better target.
The vine dug into his belly, which was made all the more ticklish by the presence of baby fat Misha had not been able to rid himself of yet. Misha squealed and squirmed, caring nothing for his dignity, only his sanity. His voice cracked leaving his laughter sounding a few octaves too high, like a little girl, rather than a teenage boy. The tears did nothing to dispel the image as they rolled freely down his cheeks.
“I-I CAN'T T-TAAAAKE IT! STAHAHAPPP!!!” His head and tail thrashed from side to side as if in a vain attempt to dodge the quivering, tickling vines. He felt a weird sensation coming from his feet, fearing that his feet were now going to be tickled even more he looked down. A single vine protruding from a small hole near his feet slithered up to his feet. But instead of tickling them more, the vine pushed its way into the cuff of Misha's pant leg.
Misha chortled and guffawed as it made its way up his leg, tickling his thighs and the back of his legs as it did so. It finally stuck out of the waistband of Misha's jeans and wiggled around, as if waving to the poor fox. With growing horror, he saw it squirm around the button fastening his jeans, soon managing to undo them
“W-WAIT! HAAAHAAHEE! N-NOT T-THOSE, HAHAAHA, PUH-PLEASE DON'T T-TAKE MY, HAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!” He couldn't even finish.
The vine however, did finish its task, even managing to pull Misha's zipper down, leaving his fly completely open. Misha's was dimly aware that he had a hard-on, now visible beneath his exposed underpants, but he was still laughing insanely. The vine curled around the side of Misha's waistband and began pulling. Within seconds, Misha's sodden pants were being dragged down his legs. The tickling of his belly and the unintentional squirming it produced effectively prevented any chance of Misha keeping his pants on.
The other vine took time off from tickling his right foot and slithered under Misha's body, heading directly between his legs. He squeaked as it brushed beneath his privates and journeyed under his rear, evoking even more laughter.
“NOHEHOHAEHEHEEHEEHEK! O-OHHHHH P-PLEAASE N-NOOO!” Its swaying movement brushed the ultra-sensitive spot just beneath Misha's tail, sending him into new convulsions of ticklish ecstasy.
“HOOHAHHOOHEEHEHEHEHEEEEEEEKKK! N-N-NOOOOOOEEEEEEK! P-P-PLEEAAASE N-NOOO MOOORE! HAHAHAHAAAAA!!!!”
Heedless of any desperate begging, the vine twisted up, up into the waistband of his briefs. It slithered back down into his underwear, this time rubbing against his bare bottom.
“HAAHAAHHAAAHHAAAHAAAA!!! O-OOHHH P-PLEAAAAASE N-NO!!!” Misha wailed. “I CAN'T-HAAHAAHA-T-TAKE IT!!! HAHAAAHAHAAAHEEEEHAA!!!”
The vine slid down, tickling his most sensitive area as it did so. It looped around Misha's genitals and emerged from the front of his underpants. Gulping nervously, Misha watched in a mix of fascination and horror as the vine began to draw itself back into its hole, pulling his underwear down as it did. He shivered at the pleasant, almost sensual, sensation of feeling the soft fabric of his briefs being pulled across his member, until it was completely free of its constraints and stood straight up.
“N-NOOO!!! L-LET M-ME KE-HEHEEP M-MY UNDE-HEEHEEHEHEER-WEAHAHAAR!!!” The shame and mortification rose to his already ruddy cheeks, turning them a bright red. His uncontrollable blushing made him feel even more ticklish and vulnerable.
Still laughing uncontrollably at his continued tickling, Misha let his gaze drift upwards. Possibly he was praying for some deliverance from the monstrous punishment he was now suffering, or more likely, he was deluded enough to think that if he didn't see the vines tickling his armpits, his belly, and pulling off his pants and underwear, then they wouldn't be real and he would wake up in his own bed. It didn't work.
Misha writhed on the grass covered jungle floor, which only made his situation worse as the soft blades of glass tickled his back and rear. He had attempted to avoid his involuntary depantsing by stretching his legs so they couldn't be slid off. Unfortunately, all this did was pull his briefs taught and made it easier for the vine to wrap itself around them. Under half a minute later, Misha sobbed as the vines yanked his underpants off, leaving him completely in the nude.
Misha's already red face turned incandescent at this unbearable humiliation. Stripped naked and tickled to hysterics by living vines under the eyes of a hot jaguar woman with a bad temper. To his embarrassment, his hard-on remained, making it impossible for Josephine to miss from wherever she was watching. Not good.
He gurgled and guffawed under the vines' ministrations. Feeling lightheaded, he feared that he was going to either pass out or wet himself again. His wooziness was quickly dispelled by the sensation of the vines wrapping themselves around his wrists, elbows, ankles, and knees, securing them fast. He even felt one restraining the big toe on his right foot. The vines pulled his limbs until he was in a ‘x' position, all his ticklish nooks and crannies completely open and unable to resist torture.
Through the haziness and uncontrollable laughter he was convulsed in, Misha still managed to see a series of more vines appear out of the crevice and grab his clothes, then proceeded to drag them down into the fissure with them.
His heart sank, even though he was laughing. Even having his clothes in sight offered some sort of protection, but now he felt even more vulnerable than before. What's more several strange vines appeared, these ones with purple buds on the tips.
The buds opened up into strange purple flowers and seemed drawn to his most ticklish spots: His armpits, sides, belly, feet, inner thighs, and crotch. Misha braced himself for whatever was next, but it did no good. The flowers sprayed him with something, pollen probably, as if they were aerosol cans. The sensation was as ticklish, if not more so, than the vines themselves.
“HAHAAHHAA, N-NOHEHOHAEHEHEEHEEHEK!!! “N-NOOOO, NOOOO! I-I'M GON-AHAHHA-A-” Misha couldn't finish. He wasn't sure what he was going to do. Pass out? Wet himself? Die?
Mercifully, it turned out that it was the former option. The ticklish sensation of being sprayed had finally caused him to faint, sparing him the indignity of either peeing himself again, which would only worsen his humiliation or dying from being tickled, which was almost as bad.
Of course, Misha thought in a rare moment of clarity before he fell unconscious, there would probably be time for both later.
The first thing Misha felt when he awoke was a dull headache, a low level pounding in his temples. The next thing he noticed was that the sun's position had changed, suggesting that he had been asleep for some time
He tried moving, but found himself still bound by vines. Turning his head, he saw that the crevices were gone, sealed up as if they were never there. Along with most of his clothes, he realized despondently. The only article left was his soiled briefs, hung limply from a vine that protruded out of the ground between his feet. Barely moving in the wind, like a white flag of surrender.
A sudden shift in the wind brought a hideous smell with it. Misha nearly gagged at the odor, which apparently came from him. After a moment, Misha realized that it was the pollen from those odd purple flowers that he smelled. It clung to the areas that had been sprayed, making him smell so pungent that a passerby would think that he had just eaten a bean burrito.
His attention was riveted on the surrounding shrubs when he heard a sudden ‘Crack!' the unmistakable sound of a twig snapping. Something was out there.
Heart racing, he looked around for the source of the noise, but all he heard or saw was the rustling of bushes, all around him.
Just as he thought his heart was going to burst, something emerged. Misha raised an eyebrow at the odd little creature. It was purple, the same color as the flower that had sprayed him, laced with light purple veins. It seemed like a miniature or a toy, a small beast that looked like two legs attached to a head that was just a nose and a mouth, with a short stubby tail.
Of course, Misha gulped, that didn't mean it wasn't dangerous…As if to underline the thought five more of the little things came out of hiding, making it an even half dozen. The first one, the leader from the looks of it, raised its impressive nose to the air and sniffed. It barked, sounding happy, and its fellows started circling the bounded fox.
Misha felt himself starting to sweat, worried that they were going to devour him bit by bit. One of the creatures, not the leader, stood at the side of Misha's head, bent down and…started licking his neck. He giggled, trying to turn his head in a way so that the creatures' tongue wouldn't find him.
“Hehehehe, come on, stop! That, hehehehe, tickles! Pleasehehe don't-” He couldn't resist the giggle fit. He wasn't even aware of the next little beast hovering over his left foot until it gave it a big, wet, lick. “HAAHAHAHA, NO! C-COME HAHAHA ON! DON'T-HAHAHAHA!!!”
For such a small animal, it sure had a big tongue. It was fairly rough but coated in moist saliva, which both tickled and disgusted Misha. If there was anything worse than being tickled, it was being tickled and slobbered on. Joining in the fray, two more positioned themselves at either both of his sensitive armpits and proceeded to give them both a good tongue bath.
“HAHAAHAHAHEE, N-NO NO NO!!!” He half wailed, half laughed. “NOT AGAHAHAHIN! NOT-HAHAHAHEAHAHEHAHAA!!!” His beleaguered protests interrupted when another of the little monsters perched itself next to his belly, tickling his stomach, and darting his tongue in and out of his navel.
The leader, which had held back until now, suddenly made its move. It walked between Misha's legs and proceeded to lick Misha's inner thigh. Misha begged and cajoled them to stop whenever he could spare a breath, which was becoming less and less frequent. His tail beat against the ground and swished from side to side. He soon noticed his old punisher, Josephine, sitting a top a tree branch looking down at him. Misha felt a cold chill run through him, even as he was lapped with warm tongues. It occurred to him that she would never end this. That Josephine would keep him here to tickle and torment… forever.
At around the same time that this horror inducing thought was crossing the naked fox's mind, the creature's leader had moved from licking his thigh to a more sensitive area.
Behind his glasses, Misha's eyes widened to an impossible size as he felt the moist, tongue of the little beast wrap itself around and caressed his increasingly hard member.
“N-NOOOO M-MOOOOREE!!! P-PLEAASE N-NO MORE!!! I'LL DO-HOO WHATEV-HAHA-ER YOU WANT!!!” Misha begged pitifully, his lips trembling as if he was suddenly going to burst into tears of his own accord, not just because of the ticklish tongues that were teasing his most ticklish spots.
“What I want you to do,” Josephine said coldly, confirming his worst fear. “Is to laugh yourself to death. Slowly, painfully, and humiliatingly.”
Anyone looking would have had a hard time reconciling Misha's ever increasing laughter with the tears now spilling down his cheeks, sobbing with what little breath he had left.
His vision grew cloudy and dark. He feared that he was about to oblige his tormentor by having finally, after many long, excruciating hours, laugh himself to death. The darkness overtook him, and he knew no more.
He didn't expect to wake up. He thought he was dead. Then he realized that his situation was probably worse than that. Any joy Misha felt at waking up—alive—and for the moment, not being tickled, was soon dampened by the fact that Josephine was gone. Probably to find something even worse to tickle him with, he reasoned. Desperately looking for a way to escape, Misha pulled at his bonds with what strength he had left. But no matter how hard he tried, he was stuck fast.
Fear proved to be a strong enough of a motivator to stop him from giving up. After much futile pulling, he stopped, panting in exhaustion. His forehead glistened with sweat, and out of habit he reached up to wipe it off. It came as a complete shock to him, then, when he found his hand free of its constraints. His hand had just slid through the vines' grasp!
After a moment of surprise he tried again with his other hand. Between his own sweat and the monsters' saliva, he was moist enough to slide his hand out from under the vines' binding it. Uttering a short prayer of hope under his breath, Misha twisted and contorted until five minutes later, he triumphantly stood up, free and unbound. He stood unsteadily, not having yet regained his balance after spending most of the day on the ground.
But there was no time to stretch and enjoy himself, Josephine could be back at any minute. He nearly forgot to grab his underpants off the vine that held them and after slipping them on, dashed off into the jungle. It didn't matter that he had no idea where he was or where he was going. All that mattered was getting as far away from that spot—and Josephine—as possible.
Heart pounding, Misha stumbled through branches and thickets in an ever increasingly thick area of the jungle. Sharp branches and leaves tore at his fur, his hair, and what little clothes he had left.
It could be his imagination, but Misha could swear that the trees were, swaying? Moving? Almost like they were reaching toward him. But that was impossible…wasn't it? Unbidden, the memory of Josephine's words drifted back to him.
“ The jungle isn't just a random collection of trees and shrubs. It's a living entity, conscious and aware. It's alive.”
If that was true, Misha thought nervously, then it was the whole jungle that he had to worry about, not just one jaguar. He made the mistake of slowing down as he thought this out. Tree branches reached out to him, trying to grab him. Misha yelped and ran without a thought as to where he was going. All the while, branches reached out to grab or pummel him. One got lucky and snagged the back of his briefs, tearing them off his body. Not having time to worry about once more being naked, Misha kept running, holding up his arms to fend off the blows.
One branch whapped him from behind, smacking him solidly on the rear. This sudden spank caused him to lurch forward, losing his glasses in the process. Unable to stop to search, Misha kept running, naked and half-blind. A bad combination.
Whimpering in the ever darkening jungle, he continued to run. Given his limited eyesight, it should come as no surprise to anyone that he failed to see the vine laying in wait for him. Misha tripped and went sprawling. The branches and vines pushed down on him, preventing him from getting up, no matter how hard he struggled.
The sound of someone walking closer caused him to freeze and cease his struggling. He may not have been able to look up and see who was there he could still smell her scent.
“Josephine.” He croaked in fear and started shivering. Torn between either crying or wetting himself he ended up doing both.
“You didn't really think you could escape, did you?” Josephine asked cruelly. Misha wept in disappointment.
“Please, let me go. I'll never bother another tree as long as I live! Please…” he whined, “I don't deserve to d-die. Especially not like this.”
“Awww…you poor baby,” Josephine said, without a trace of warmth in her voice. “Did you really think that I'd tickle you to death? Silly, I wouldn't do that.” She chuckled. “After all, why would I grant you the release of a quick death? No, you'll remain among the living, I'll just make you wish you weren't!”
When she finished, a vine hanging down from a high tree branch coiled itself around Misha's right ankle and pulled him up. Misha whimpered as he found himself suspended, naked, upside down over a hundred feet from the jungle floor.
Even with his poor vision, Misha saw dozens, possible hundreds, of vines wiggling toward him, there intent obvious. In desperation he looked down towards Josephine one last time. She looked up.
“Remember, this has all been your own fault, and no one else's. Good-bye Misha.” She added as she turned and disappeared into the trees.
“NO!!!” He cried as she vanished. Misha turned back to the vines reaching for him, ready to tickle his most sensitive spots: His feet, his sides, his armpits, his belly, thighs, chest, the back of his knees, and his privates. “NOOOOO!!! “N-NOOOO M-MOOOOREE!!! HAAHAAHAHOOHOOHEHEAHAHAHAAAHA!!!”
“And so you see,” Josephine concluded, “that the jungle is a very important place. One to be cherished forever.” Another day, another tour, some things never changed. There were still people who weren't listening, who obviously didn't give a damn about the jungle. She sighed. Then an idea crossed her mind.
“If you listen, some say you can hear the voice of the jungle.” The windows were opened and the tourists quieted down so they could hear. Did they hear anything?
“Is that the voice of the jungle?” A young boy asked, his head tilted towards the window. Josephine smiled.
“It could very well be.” She answered.
“It sure sounds happy.” The boy concluded, before going back to listening. Some heard nothing, merely the wind. But others could've sworn they heard the sound of laughter. Loud, uncontrollable laughter, then it was swallowed up by the jungle and silenced forevermore.
--------------------------------------------------------------------- No, I didn't write this, this is here because I have a request, and I have no idea where to put it, I don't think I've seen an area where you can request stories around here, if there is, feel free to move it. But, as to the request, would it be possible for someone to add several more, how you say, adult oriented tickling, and having the lady take part in his tickling? Something to edit this so that it is more of an orgasm denial/tickling story.
http://www.furstreet.com/X-Red/home.htm
Site where I got this from, check it out, excellent tickling related art work, seems to be dead though.
This is a work of fiction. No animal, vegetable or mineral was harmed, maltreated or detained in any way by the creation or execution of this story.
Anonymous writer.
Misha's eyelids drooped as he tried to show some interest in the tour guide's explanation of the jungle he now felt himself sweltering in. His fur was matted with sweat and felt like he was wearing a coat. His tail barely had the energy to move, it was so humid. The poor fox's tongue had rolled out the corner of his mouth as he drifted somewhere in between being awake and being asleep.
“This really isn't my idea of a vacation.” He brooded. His original plan was to spend his vacation with friends back home. But they had all found other things to do, so Misha had to hastily find someplace to travel to or, he shuddered, find a job.
Partially at his parents' behest he booked a tour to some exotic jungle, so he could spend his vacation listening to his tour guide drone on about the mystery and magic of the jungle or some such crap.
Looking out the window he saw nothing but thick green foliage. This bus went straight through the heart of the jungle without so much as a gas station located within. It was halfway through an eight hour-long drive through the jungle and Misha had zoned out about twenty minutes after they set out.
The jungle, fascinating at first, started to bore him since it all looked the same to him. It was just a green and brown blur to him. He listened with half an ear as the tour guide, an attractive looking female jaguar, explained about the different types of trees and jungle plants.
Unsuccessfully fighting back a yawn, Misha closed his eyes and slid into a light snooze. He rested his head against the window and fell asleep. Sometime later, he felt a hand on his shoulder gently nudging him awake. Yawning and absently rubbing the sleep from his eyes, Misha adjusted his glasses and looked to see who had woke him up. It was the tour guide.
“Excuse me, sir? Are you all right?” Misha nodded, not yet capable of speaking. She was a stunning jaguar femme in her mid twenties. All vestiges of sleep soon vanished as he found himself lost in her big brown eyes. A quick glance to her chest revealed a nametag displaying the name Josephine.
“I'm fine.” He finally managed, his voice cracking. She smiled.
“We've come to a clearing, the only one in the entire jungle so we've come to a brief stop. The rest of the group has gotten out to stretch their legs and take a look around.” Briefly glancing at the rest of the bus, Misha saw that everyone else had indeed gone. Continuing, she said, “Since this is our only stop on the tour, you may want to take the chance to get up and walk around. Besides,” she added with a grin. “You can get a closer look at the jungle. Just be sure not to wonder off, we won't be staying long. Bye!”
Misha didn't get up right away, he was more than content to stay in his seat and watch her walk down the aisle and off the bus. Then he unbuckled himself and headed off himself. Taking her words to heart, he put his hands behind his head and stretched, absently popping a few joints as he did so.
Walking around, he saw the other two dozen or so tourists looking up at the treetops, camera out and snapping pictures as if they were afraid that the trees would vanish at any minute.
Snorting derisively at a bunch of generally old folk who found trees fascinating, Misha took a walk, hoping to run into Josephine again. He spent the next couple of minutes looking in vain. Disappointed, but not terribly put off, he went over to the tree line. After all, she would be back on the bus, he was sure he'd find a reason to talk to her again before the trip was done.
His mind was distracted from any thoughts of jaguars by a growing urge in his bladder. He hadn't used a bathroom since he got on the bus, which unfortunately didn't have one, and faced with the prospect of another four hours to go, the pressure in his bladder increased to the point where he was fairly hoping from foot to foot.
Quickly glancing around to make sure no one was watching, Misha darted into the trees. After dashing about fifty or so meters, he stopped behind a tree and unzipped his jeans. He then proceeded to relieve himself against the tree. “Aahh.” He breathed in, well, relief.
After he was finished, he strolled back to the bus, leisurely taking in the sights of giant trees, covered in moss and crisscrossed with vines. His eyes still straining upwards he didn't notice something was amiss until he was standing in the middle of the clearing.
The bus was gone.
His jaw dropped as he darted his eyes around nervously. No sign of the bus anywhere. “Crap!” He swore. There wasn't another tour for days and there was no way out of the jungle. The tire tracks gave him a vague idea where the bus was headed but even if he knew their exact route, it would take days to walk to the end of the jungle. And from what little he paid attention to Josephine's tour speech, the jungle was full of dangerous animals.
Misha's breathing grew shallow as he felt a panic attack come on, the adrenaline building up, he dashed full speed along the faint tire tracks, hoping against hope that he could somehow catch up with the bus. He ran for a good half hour before his adrenaline rush wore off and he “crashed” as it were. Unable to carry on, he leaned against a tree and took the chance to catch his breath as he took stock of his situation.
“No food, no water, no idea where I am.” His lower lip trembled as he hugged his bushy tail to his chest. “I really wish I had listened to Josephine's tour now.”
Misha had started to pace himself, not able to run full tilt again. He walked another three hours until night began to fall. He rubbed his arms as a chill entered the air. The stirrings of nocturnal animals began and Misha decided that it was best not to be stumbling around in the dark with predators on the prowl. Picking a spot in between two massive roots of a tree, he pulled a large leaf from a shrub and used it as a makeshift blanket in an equally makeshift bed.
The growls, hoots, and assorted noises of jungle beasts scared the shivering fox so bad his red fur started blanch until he looked like the ghost of an albino. He huddled under the leaf in a fetal position, hoping to present as little of himself as possible.
He bit his lip to prevent himself from crying or whimpering. Misha was wide eyed with fear. He never thought he'd get any sleep. Yet somehow all the fear and lack of energy just added to his fatigue and after an hour or two, he drifted off to sleep.
Morning's rays woke Misha the following morning. The sun was already up and Misha found that he had not had his feet or hands chewed off, much to his relief. Resolving to get back on the track of the bus and find his way out of here, Misha stood up and promptly wrinkled his nose as he got a good whiff of himself. Sleeping in the same dirty clothes had done nothing for his sense of smell and he had no opportunity to take a shower.
His ears twitched as he caught the sound of running water. There was a river nearby, he guessed, correctly. After walking for ten minutes through a thicket of trees, Misha saw a rushing river.
Misha's first instinct was to strip off his dirty clothes and jump in, but refrained. One of the few things he remembered from the tour was that leeches, snakes, and several other aquatic creatures with sharp teeth. Not wanting to loose his tail, or something even more important, he sat down and thought it over.
In a quick burst of inspiration, Misha grabbed a hollowed out gourd shell and used it to scoop out water from the river. A quick glance told him there was nothing in it, and he then guzzled it down greedily. Delicious.
Misha stripped off his shirt and tossed it to the ground. He kicked off his shoes and pulled off his socks. Fumbling around with his button and zipper, he pulled his pants down and stepped out of them. He paused for a minute, letting the brisk breeze blow through his fur. It felt good, but a shower would feel even better. With that thought in mind, he pushed his underpants down and gently tossed them and his glasses off to the side. Naked, he sat down next to the river and used the gourd to gather more water. Standing up, he shut his eyes and poured the icy cold water on his head.
The sensation certainly removed any last traces of weariness, and set his teeth chattering. Nevertheless, he repeated the gesture another four or five times, until his fur was completely soaked. Deciding that this was probably the only chance he would get, Misha dunked his clothes into the water and hung them over a tree branch to dry. Shaking his fur dry, Misha laid down on the grass to let the sun's rays finish the job.
“Strange.” Misha thought to himself. He was still lost and alone, but somehow, lying naked in the sun, letting it dry his fur out after an impromptu shower, he felt oddly at ease. Save for the slight discomfort he felt at being so…exposed. He wasn't a fox who was very comfortable with his body. Being nude made him feel very self-conscious, like someone was watching him. Closing his eyes, he rested his head on his arms and took a light nap as his clothes dried.
The breeze ruffled his fur gently, in an almost caressing manner. He arched his back, as if trying to catch more of the wind. Laying on the grass, as nice as it was, wouldn't get him out of the jungle. With a sigh, he sat up on the grass and stretched. Walking over to the branch with his clothes, he saw that they looked wrinkled, but largely dry. Grabbing his underwear, he pulled the briefs up, crinkling slightly. Grabbing his jeans and shirt he quickly dressed himself, putting his socks and shoes on at a leisurely pace.
Guessing from the sun's position in the sky, it was late morning already. Setting a brisk pace for himself, Misha tried to follow the faint tracks left by the bus, with an emphasis on the word “try”. The tracks were nearly impossible to see and there were places where the tracks ended. He had to guess at the direction the bus ended.
Misha was worried as time wore on. All the jungle looked the same from his vantage point, and he didn't know for sure where he was headed. All he could do was hope for the best. But when a wrong turn potentially meant being lost in the jungle for days, possibly weeks, or more, he was more than a little timid.
When night began to fall, he followed the same procedure he had the night before, curling up under a large leaf, trembling with fear at the prospect of being somebody's late night snack. Come the next morning, he headed off again. He repeated the process again the next day. By the middle of the fifth day, Misha had come to the conclusion that he was, undeniably and totally lost.
Despondent and afraid, he unknowingly entered further and further into the heart of the jungle. He finally came to a stop when he spied a fallen tree, perfect place to sit down for a while. Gloomy beyond all reason he gave a heartfelt sight a held his face in his hands, trying to hold back tears.
“This is hopeless!” He croaked, speaking for the first time in days. Not having anyone to talk to was bad enough, but he smelled, he hadn't had a change of clothes in nearly a week, the meager fruits he ate were barely enough to sustain him, and now he was completely lost in the middle of a fierce jungle.
His breath caught as he carefully listened for any other signs of a stalking predator. Deciding not to wait to be eviscerated, Misha starting running, pumping his legs as fast as he could.
Heart pounding in his chest, Misha ran far and fast, he then made the fatal mistake of turning his head and trying to look over his shoulder to see if there was anything following him. Because of this, he never saw the large tree directly in his path until it was too late. He collided headlong into the thick trunk, darkness clouded his vision and he slipped into unconsciousness.
A splitting headache was the first thing Misha felt when he regained consciousness. He opened his eyes slowly, wincing at the sudden light that flooded his eyes. He found himself lying on his back, his shirt was missing and he could feel the soft grass underneath him. His headache faded after a few minutes, though he still felt slightly groggy.
“Awake I see.” A voice came from somewhere behind his head. Misha tried to get up, but found that his wrists were tied and bound above his head, a wooden stake driven into the ground that the rope was tied to.
“Who's there?” Misha called, raising his voice in an attempt to cover his fear.
“Aww, I'm hurt, you don't recognize me?” A feminine voice asked. Misha strained his head as a familiar form leaned over him.
“Josephine!” Misha exclaimed in surprise and hope. “Oh thank you! I've been lost for days! Now you can show me the way out of here, all you have to do is untie me-”
“I'm afraid I can't do that Misha.” Josephine said with a shake of her head. “You see I'm the one who tied you up.”
“You-why did you tie me up? And why you take my shirt?” He shivered and it wasn't due to the wind. Josephine's eyes narrowed and Misha gulped in fright.
“I had the bus driver leave you behind and I've been following you ever since.”
“You…what?” Misha said, his face flushing red as he realized that she had undoubtedly seen him naked as he bathed and dried himself. If she noticed his discomfort, she gave no sign.
“Do you remember my lecture from the tour about the legends of the jungle?” Misha frowned, not seeing the relevancy, but tried to dredge up the memory anyway. But the tour seemed like it was months ago and he hadn't been paying attention. He shook his head.
“Not really. Sorry.”
“No, you're not.” Josephine said curtly. “The jungle isn't just a random collection of trees and shrubs. It's a living entity, conscious and aware. It's alive .” Misha raised a skeptical eyebrow.
“Alive?” Josephine nodded.
“Yes, it's alive and aware of all that happens within its borders. My people have lived in the heart of the jungle, tending it, protecting it, for generations. I conducted tours so that outsiders would learn to respect and appreciate the jungle. But you,” her eyes narrowed even more in feline fury. “I knew from the start that you were just a selfish brat who never cared about the jungle and would never bother to even learn to care about it.”
Misha fidgeted uncomfortable under her intense gaze, not even bothering to deny it. Josephine exhaled an angry breath and continued. “When you got off the bus I followed you. I saw what you did.” Misha's face blushed incandescently at the thought of Josephine watching him relieve himself out in the wild. Seeing his reddened face she snarled. “Yes, I saw your indiscretion, your befoulment of a sacred tree!” Her hands clenched into fists.
“You arrogant little brat! Using the jungle as if it were a restroom for your personal convenience!” Visibly trying to restrain her angle, Josephine paused. “For that transgression, I as a guardian of the jungle, decree that you shall be punished by the jungle you wronged.”
“P-punished?” Misha stuttered fearfully. “What do you mean?” Josephine smiled, choosing to let him figure it out himself. The ground on either side of Misha cracked and split open. Two smaller crevices opened near his legs, it was then that he noticed that his socks and shoes were gone.
His breathing grew shallow in fear as something emerged from the cracks. It was a green vine, or possibly a tentacle of some kind since it was moving, something an ordinary vine couldn't do. But who ever said these vines were ordinary? Even as one vine appeared in the crevice to his left, two more appeared on his right side and two additional ones popped out of the two holes near his legs.
Not knowing what was about to happen, but still fearful, he turned his head back to Josephine to beg for mercy. Josephine smiled evilly and shook her head slowly.
Misha's attention was suddenly snapped back to the creeping vines as one brushed his left armpit. Surprised and unawares, he was unable to hold back his frantic giggling.
“HEEHEEHEEK!” Buoyed by this display, the vine on his right chose to tickle his other armpit. It was only then that he began to understand the dire straights he was in.
“NO! N-NOT THAHAHAT! P-PUH-LEASE, HAHAAHA! ANY-HAHA-THING B-BUT THAHAHAT!!!” His pleas fell on deaf ears as both tentacles darted and probed the ticklish areas under both of his arms.
“HAHAAHAAHAAAAHA! STAHAHAPP! P-PLEASE I'M TOO—HAHAHAAHAHHHAAA—TOO TICKLISH AHAHA!” His peals of laughter doubled as the vines near his feet started stroking his sensitive arches. The spaces between his toes were prodded and explored, causing the laughter to practically explode out of him.
“HAHAHAHAHOOOHAHOOHEEEK!!!”
His torture reached a feverous level as another vine hovered over his belly. Misha's eyes practically bulged out of his skull for fear of what he knew was going to come. The instant the other vine on his right side gently poked his stomach, one of his “sweet spots”, his laughter took an insane-sounding pitch as he laughed and screamed all at once, barely noticing the fact that he had wet his pants during the ordeal.
“HAAHAAAHAAAHEEEHOOOHEEHOO!!! STAAHAHAP!!! STAHAP!!!” He screamed. “N-NOOOOEEEEEEEEEKKKK!!! PUH-PLEASE, HEEEHEHEEHEHOO! P-PLEAASE N-NO MORE!!!” Tears were rolling down his reddened cheeks as his stomach heaved, which simply made it an even better target.
The vine dug into his belly, which was made all the more ticklish by the presence of baby fat Misha had not been able to rid himself of yet. Misha squealed and squirmed, caring nothing for his dignity, only his sanity. His voice cracked leaving his laughter sounding a few octaves too high, like a little girl, rather than a teenage boy. The tears did nothing to dispel the image as they rolled freely down his cheeks.
“I-I CAN'T T-TAAAAKE IT! STAHAHAPPP!!!” His head and tail thrashed from side to side as if in a vain attempt to dodge the quivering, tickling vines. He felt a weird sensation coming from his feet, fearing that his feet were now going to be tickled even more he looked down. A single vine protruding from a small hole near his feet slithered up to his feet. But instead of tickling them more, the vine pushed its way into the cuff of Misha's pant leg.
Misha chortled and guffawed as it made its way up his leg, tickling his thighs and the back of his legs as it did so. It finally stuck out of the waistband of Misha's jeans and wiggled around, as if waving to the poor fox. With growing horror, he saw it squirm around the button fastening his jeans, soon managing to undo them
“W-WAIT! HAAAHAAHEE! N-NOT T-THOSE, HAHAAHA, PUH-PLEASE DON'T T-TAKE MY, HAHAHAHAHAHAA!!!” He couldn't even finish.
The vine however, did finish its task, even managing to pull Misha's zipper down, leaving his fly completely open. Misha's was dimly aware that he had a hard-on, now visible beneath his exposed underpants, but he was still laughing insanely. The vine curled around the side of Misha's waistband and began pulling. Within seconds, Misha's sodden pants were being dragged down his legs. The tickling of his belly and the unintentional squirming it produced effectively prevented any chance of Misha keeping his pants on.
The other vine took time off from tickling his right foot and slithered under Misha's body, heading directly between his legs. He squeaked as it brushed beneath his privates and journeyed under his rear, evoking even more laughter.
“NOHEHOHAEHEHEEHEEHEK! O-OHHHHH P-PLEAASE N-NOOO!” Its swaying movement brushed the ultra-sensitive spot just beneath Misha's tail, sending him into new convulsions of ticklish ecstasy.
“HOOHAHHOOHEEHEHEHEHEEEEEEEKKK! N-N-NOOOOOOEEEEEEK! P-P-PLEEAAASE N-NOOO MOOORE! HAHAHAHAAAAA!!!!”
Heedless of any desperate begging, the vine twisted up, up into the waistband of his briefs. It slithered back down into his underwear, this time rubbing against his bare bottom.
“HAAHAAHHAAAHHAAAHAAAA!!! O-OOHHH P-PLEAAAAASE N-NO!!!” Misha wailed. “I CAN'T-HAAHAAHA-T-TAKE IT!!! HAHAAAHAHAAAHEEEEHAA!!!”
The vine slid down, tickling his most sensitive area as it did so. It looped around Misha's genitals and emerged from the front of his underpants. Gulping nervously, Misha watched in a mix of fascination and horror as the vine began to draw itself back into its hole, pulling his underwear down as it did. He shivered at the pleasant, almost sensual, sensation of feeling the soft fabric of his briefs being pulled across his member, until it was completely free of its constraints and stood straight up.
“N-NOOO!!! L-LET M-ME KE-HEHEEP M-MY UNDE-HEEHEEHEHEER-WEAHAHAAR!!!” The shame and mortification rose to his already ruddy cheeks, turning them a bright red. His uncontrollable blushing made him feel even more ticklish and vulnerable.
Still laughing uncontrollably at his continued tickling, Misha let his gaze drift upwards. Possibly he was praying for some deliverance from the monstrous punishment he was now suffering, or more likely, he was deluded enough to think that if he didn't see the vines tickling his armpits, his belly, and pulling off his pants and underwear, then they wouldn't be real and he would wake up in his own bed. It didn't work.
Misha writhed on the grass covered jungle floor, which only made his situation worse as the soft blades of glass tickled his back and rear. He had attempted to avoid his involuntary depantsing by stretching his legs so they couldn't be slid off. Unfortunately, all this did was pull his briefs taught and made it easier for the vine to wrap itself around them. Under half a minute later, Misha sobbed as the vines yanked his underpants off, leaving him completely in the nude.
Misha's already red face turned incandescent at this unbearable humiliation. Stripped naked and tickled to hysterics by living vines under the eyes of a hot jaguar woman with a bad temper. To his embarrassment, his hard-on remained, making it impossible for Josephine to miss from wherever she was watching. Not good.
He gurgled and guffawed under the vines' ministrations. Feeling lightheaded, he feared that he was going to either pass out or wet himself again. His wooziness was quickly dispelled by the sensation of the vines wrapping themselves around his wrists, elbows, ankles, and knees, securing them fast. He even felt one restraining the big toe on his right foot. The vines pulled his limbs until he was in a ‘x' position, all his ticklish nooks and crannies completely open and unable to resist torture.
Through the haziness and uncontrollable laughter he was convulsed in, Misha still managed to see a series of more vines appear out of the crevice and grab his clothes, then proceeded to drag them down into the fissure with them.
His heart sank, even though he was laughing. Even having his clothes in sight offered some sort of protection, but now he felt even more vulnerable than before. What's more several strange vines appeared, these ones with purple buds on the tips.
The buds opened up into strange purple flowers and seemed drawn to his most ticklish spots: His armpits, sides, belly, feet, inner thighs, and crotch. Misha braced himself for whatever was next, but it did no good. The flowers sprayed him with something, pollen probably, as if they were aerosol cans. The sensation was as ticklish, if not more so, than the vines themselves.
“HAHAAHHAA, N-NOHEHOHAEHEHEEHEEHEK!!! “N-NOOOO, NOOOO! I-I'M GON-AHAHHA-A-” Misha couldn't finish. He wasn't sure what he was going to do. Pass out? Wet himself? Die?
Mercifully, it turned out that it was the former option. The ticklish sensation of being sprayed had finally caused him to faint, sparing him the indignity of either peeing himself again, which would only worsen his humiliation or dying from being tickled, which was almost as bad.
Of course, Misha thought in a rare moment of clarity before he fell unconscious, there would probably be time for both later.
The first thing Misha felt when he awoke was a dull headache, a low level pounding in his temples. The next thing he noticed was that the sun's position had changed, suggesting that he had been asleep for some time
He tried moving, but found himself still bound by vines. Turning his head, he saw that the crevices were gone, sealed up as if they were never there. Along with most of his clothes, he realized despondently. The only article left was his soiled briefs, hung limply from a vine that protruded out of the ground between his feet. Barely moving in the wind, like a white flag of surrender.
A sudden shift in the wind brought a hideous smell with it. Misha nearly gagged at the odor, which apparently came from him. After a moment, Misha realized that it was the pollen from those odd purple flowers that he smelled. It clung to the areas that had been sprayed, making him smell so pungent that a passerby would think that he had just eaten a bean burrito.
His attention was riveted on the surrounding shrubs when he heard a sudden ‘Crack!' the unmistakable sound of a twig snapping. Something was out there.
Heart racing, he looked around for the source of the noise, but all he heard or saw was the rustling of bushes, all around him.
Just as he thought his heart was going to burst, something emerged. Misha raised an eyebrow at the odd little creature. It was purple, the same color as the flower that had sprayed him, laced with light purple veins. It seemed like a miniature or a toy, a small beast that looked like two legs attached to a head that was just a nose and a mouth, with a short stubby tail.
Of course, Misha gulped, that didn't mean it wasn't dangerous…As if to underline the thought five more of the little things came out of hiding, making it an even half dozen. The first one, the leader from the looks of it, raised its impressive nose to the air and sniffed. It barked, sounding happy, and its fellows started circling the bounded fox.
Misha felt himself starting to sweat, worried that they were going to devour him bit by bit. One of the creatures, not the leader, stood at the side of Misha's head, bent down and…started licking his neck. He giggled, trying to turn his head in a way so that the creatures' tongue wouldn't find him.
“Hehehehe, come on, stop! That, hehehehe, tickles! Pleasehehe don't-” He couldn't resist the giggle fit. He wasn't even aware of the next little beast hovering over his left foot until it gave it a big, wet, lick. “HAAHAHAHA, NO! C-COME HAHAHA ON! DON'T-HAHAHAHA!!!”
For such a small animal, it sure had a big tongue. It was fairly rough but coated in moist saliva, which both tickled and disgusted Misha. If there was anything worse than being tickled, it was being tickled and slobbered on. Joining in the fray, two more positioned themselves at either both of his sensitive armpits and proceeded to give them both a good tongue bath.
“HAHAAHAHAHEE, N-NO NO NO!!!” He half wailed, half laughed. “NOT AGAHAHAHIN! NOT-HAHAHAHEAHAHEHAHAA!!!” His beleaguered protests interrupted when another of the little monsters perched itself next to his belly, tickling his stomach, and darting his tongue in and out of his navel.
The leader, which had held back until now, suddenly made its move. It walked between Misha's legs and proceeded to lick Misha's inner thigh. Misha begged and cajoled them to stop whenever he could spare a breath, which was becoming less and less frequent. His tail beat against the ground and swished from side to side. He soon noticed his old punisher, Josephine, sitting a top a tree branch looking down at him. Misha felt a cold chill run through him, even as he was lapped with warm tongues. It occurred to him that she would never end this. That Josephine would keep him here to tickle and torment… forever.
At around the same time that this horror inducing thought was crossing the naked fox's mind, the creature's leader had moved from licking his thigh to a more sensitive area.
Behind his glasses, Misha's eyes widened to an impossible size as he felt the moist, tongue of the little beast wrap itself around and caressed his increasingly hard member.
“N-NOOOO M-MOOOOREE!!! P-PLEAASE N-NO MORE!!! I'LL DO-HOO WHATEV-HAHA-ER YOU WANT!!!” Misha begged pitifully, his lips trembling as if he was suddenly going to burst into tears of his own accord, not just because of the ticklish tongues that were teasing his most ticklish spots.
“What I want you to do,” Josephine said coldly, confirming his worst fear. “Is to laugh yourself to death. Slowly, painfully, and humiliatingly.”
Anyone looking would have had a hard time reconciling Misha's ever increasing laughter with the tears now spilling down his cheeks, sobbing with what little breath he had left.
His vision grew cloudy and dark. He feared that he was about to oblige his tormentor by having finally, after many long, excruciating hours, laugh himself to death. The darkness overtook him, and he knew no more.
He didn't expect to wake up. He thought he was dead. Then he realized that his situation was probably worse than that. Any joy Misha felt at waking up—alive—and for the moment, not being tickled, was soon dampened by the fact that Josephine was gone. Probably to find something even worse to tickle him with, he reasoned. Desperately looking for a way to escape, Misha pulled at his bonds with what strength he had left. But no matter how hard he tried, he was stuck fast.
Fear proved to be a strong enough of a motivator to stop him from giving up. After much futile pulling, he stopped, panting in exhaustion. His forehead glistened with sweat, and out of habit he reached up to wipe it off. It came as a complete shock to him, then, when he found his hand free of its constraints. His hand had just slid through the vines' grasp!
After a moment of surprise he tried again with his other hand. Between his own sweat and the monsters' saliva, he was moist enough to slide his hand out from under the vines' binding it. Uttering a short prayer of hope under his breath, Misha twisted and contorted until five minutes later, he triumphantly stood up, free and unbound. He stood unsteadily, not having yet regained his balance after spending most of the day on the ground.
But there was no time to stretch and enjoy himself, Josephine could be back at any minute. He nearly forgot to grab his underpants off the vine that held them and after slipping them on, dashed off into the jungle. It didn't matter that he had no idea where he was or where he was going. All that mattered was getting as far away from that spot—and Josephine—as possible.
Heart pounding, Misha stumbled through branches and thickets in an ever increasingly thick area of the jungle. Sharp branches and leaves tore at his fur, his hair, and what little clothes he had left.
It could be his imagination, but Misha could swear that the trees were, swaying? Moving? Almost like they were reaching toward him. But that was impossible…wasn't it? Unbidden, the memory of Josephine's words drifted back to him.
“ The jungle isn't just a random collection of trees and shrubs. It's a living entity, conscious and aware. It's alive.”
If that was true, Misha thought nervously, then it was the whole jungle that he had to worry about, not just one jaguar. He made the mistake of slowing down as he thought this out. Tree branches reached out to him, trying to grab him. Misha yelped and ran without a thought as to where he was going. All the while, branches reached out to grab or pummel him. One got lucky and snagged the back of his briefs, tearing them off his body. Not having time to worry about once more being naked, Misha kept running, holding up his arms to fend off the blows.
One branch whapped him from behind, smacking him solidly on the rear. This sudden spank caused him to lurch forward, losing his glasses in the process. Unable to stop to search, Misha kept running, naked and half-blind. A bad combination.
Whimpering in the ever darkening jungle, he continued to run. Given his limited eyesight, it should come as no surprise to anyone that he failed to see the vine laying in wait for him. Misha tripped and went sprawling. The branches and vines pushed down on him, preventing him from getting up, no matter how hard he struggled.
The sound of someone walking closer caused him to freeze and cease his struggling. He may not have been able to look up and see who was there he could still smell her scent.
“Josephine.” He croaked in fear and started shivering. Torn between either crying or wetting himself he ended up doing both.
“You didn't really think you could escape, did you?” Josephine asked cruelly. Misha wept in disappointment.
“Please, let me go. I'll never bother another tree as long as I live! Please…” he whined, “I don't deserve to d-die. Especially not like this.”
“Awww…you poor baby,” Josephine said, without a trace of warmth in her voice. “Did you really think that I'd tickle you to death? Silly, I wouldn't do that.” She chuckled. “After all, why would I grant you the release of a quick death? No, you'll remain among the living, I'll just make you wish you weren't!”
When she finished, a vine hanging down from a high tree branch coiled itself around Misha's right ankle and pulled him up. Misha whimpered as he found himself suspended, naked, upside down over a hundred feet from the jungle floor.
Even with his poor vision, Misha saw dozens, possible hundreds, of vines wiggling toward him, there intent obvious. In desperation he looked down towards Josephine one last time. She looked up.
“Remember, this has all been your own fault, and no one else's. Good-bye Misha.” She added as she turned and disappeared into the trees.
“NO!!!” He cried as she vanished. Misha turned back to the vines reaching for him, ready to tickle his most sensitive spots: His feet, his sides, his armpits, his belly, thighs, chest, the back of his knees, and his privates. “NOOOOO!!! “N-NOOOO M-MOOOOREE!!! HAAHAAHAHOOHOOHEHEAHAHAHAAAHA!!!”
“And so you see,” Josephine concluded, “that the jungle is a very important place. One to be cherished forever.” Another day, another tour, some things never changed. There were still people who weren't listening, who obviously didn't give a damn about the jungle. She sighed. Then an idea crossed her mind.
“If you listen, some say you can hear the voice of the jungle.” The windows were opened and the tourists quieted down so they could hear. Did they hear anything?
“Is that the voice of the jungle?” A young boy asked, his head tilted towards the window. Josephine smiled.
“It could very well be.” She answered.
“It sure sounds happy.” The boy concluded, before going back to listening. Some heard nothing, merely the wind. But others could've sworn they heard the sound of laughter. Loud, uncontrollable laughter, then it was swallowed up by the jungle and silenced forevermore.
--------------------------------------------------------------------- No, I didn't write this, this is here because I have a request, and I have no idea where to put it, I don't think I've seen an area where you can request stories around here, if there is, feel free to move it. But, as to the request, would it be possible for someone to add several more, how you say, adult oriented tickling, and having the lady take part in his tickling? Something to edit this so that it is more of an orgasm denial/tickling story.
http://www.furstreet.com/X-Red/home.htm
Site where I got this from, check it out, excellent tickling related art work, seems to be dead though.
