Clint hacked his way through the jungle with his machete. He was alone, for the time being, which was a welcome relief. He was on a mission as a guide to a group of scientists (mostly women, too) and he'd had enough of listening to their boring talk. The worst of all was Charlotte. She was as intelligent as she was cute and she was pretty cute, with her thick, wavy hair, blue eyes, and the little freckles on her nose… Clint couldn't stand the idea that he was beginning to get a crush on her.
She was the main reason he was out here now. This morning, Charlotte had been warning him to stay away from the area they'd marked off on their map as Sector B. "It's too dangerous," she said. "The plants have a mind of their own! One of them grabbed me! If Maggie hadn't been there to help me free, I don't know what might've happened!"
That was the most ridiculous thing Clint had ever heard and he guffawed at Charlotte for saying it. Surely, that was just a woman's runaway imagination getting the best of her.
"Fine then," Charlotte said. "If you're so big and brave, why don't you go and fetch my binoculars? I accidentally dropped them when the plants got me. If you can go and get them and come back without trouble before the end of the day, then we'll both know who was right and who was wrong."
Now, as Clint cut his way through the forest, he coaxed himself on. "I can't wait to see the look on her face when I come back before lunch with those binoculars. Oooh, big scary plants caught me." He snorted. "Haha."
He lifted his machete high above his head. As he tried to swing it down, though, his wrist snagged a vine and became caught. "What the?" He looked up in time to notice the vine slither around his wrist like a snake. Now, that wasn't what he expected to happen and the shock of it made him yelp out in alarm. He tugged hard, but the plants were surprisingly strong and had a terribly good grip of him.
"A mind of their own," he repeated in a grumble. "It's just a dumb plant." Clint lifted his left hand up so he could pass his machete over. As soon as he had the handle of the knife in his other hand, though, another vine whipped out of nowhere and wound itself around this wrist too. "Oh, what the HELL?"
He was in a strange position now, with both of his arms stretched up as high as they'd go over his head, wrists pinned close together. He thrashed and wriggled, like a fish on a line. He'd have looked ridiculous to anyone who saw him, but thankfully (or not so thankfully, perhaps), no one was around. He yelled and cussed and twisted his hand to get the sharp edge of the blade against a vine. He began a sawing motion, since he didn't have enough movement to swing and chop.
The sawing did nothing to cut into the vine, but what it did do was produce a strange shivering in the plants, which rattled leaves all around him.
"Come on, come ON, you dumb plant. Cut…" Of course, the vines did not obey. Instead, more of them began to snake down his arms. It seemed like these vines were curious things, wanting to explore him by feel. Clint wanted none of that and he only redoubled his efforts to fight the things off and cut them away.
At this point, something truly alarming occurred. The forest floor became alive with moving vines, which slithered up to twist around the ankles of his booted feet. When both ankles were secured, the vines overhead moved higher and stretched him out further. "Aaah!" In his alarm, Clint lost hold of his machete, which tumbled down to the ground, in sight but out of reach. "Damn it!"
Now, he was beginning to get worried. He was trapped, no question about it, and he had just lost his only hope of freeing himself. A different man in a similar situation might begin to worry that perhaps he could die like this, but Clint had concerns far worse than dying. "Damn it to hell. I have to get free before Charlotte and the team start looking for me," he told himself. "I couldn't stand the look on her face if she found me like this."
Before he could have a chance to think up a plan, though, he had something new to occupy his thoughts. The creeping vines around his arms began to poke and wiggle down to his armpits. The way the vines moved and stroked at his clothes sent an unexpected shock into the man's body. He flinched and let out a little laugh, "Oh-ho-ho-ho, what now?"
Clint squirmed, but the plants had him held practically immobile. The stroking and poking continued on, which sent further ticklish sensations through him. The fact that he couldn't move and couldn't get away only made it tickle more. "Oh-ho-ho-ahaha-ahaa…" A sinking feeling hit Clint in the stomach as he comprehended the fact that he was trapped, with no way to escape, and the moving plants were actually tickling him.
"Ahaha-haha-oh hell! Urgh, no…" Clint screwed his eyes shut and tipped his chin down to his chest, trying to focus his energy on trying to block out the sensations. Maybe the plants would just finish whatever they were doing and it would stop. "Be a man, Clint," he grunted to himself, arms shivering as the plants swirled and poked. "Grow a thicker skin. Toughen up."
For a time, it worked. Oh, it still tickled, but he wasn't going to giggle and squirm like a little child. If the plants did have a mind of their own, though, it seemed that they had a determination to get him to laugh. The exploring tips of the vines decided to explore further, finding the cuffs of his sleeves and wriggling inside, between fabric and skin.
The vines were soft, coated in a fine fuzz, like caterpillars. Like very tickly caterpillars.
As the vines slithered down his skin, Clint cracked and a laugh finally escaped him again. "Aaah-ahahaha! Oh, damn. Oh, hell. Oh-ho-ho. No, damn it…"
His anxiety built as the little feelers tickled delicately around, inching further and further down. Goosebumps erupted over his skin. The little vines poked and stroked down his forearms. When they reached his elbows, Clint let out another louder laugh, surprised at how sensitive the crooks of his elbows were. "Aah! Hahaha! Oh, fff-fuck! Get off!"
But that was nothing compared to the tickling that awaited him when the ends of the vines began to snuffle into his armpits. Clint let out a loud snort at the first light touches and began squirming harder. "Hfft! Ahahaha. Oh, no, no, no. Not there…." He didn't know why he was talking to a plant. A plant can't understand. But nonetheless, he tried to bargain, "Oh-oh… okay, how about you j- ju-hust let me go now… a-ha-ha-and I won't chop you-hoo-hoo with the..."
Unexpectedly, the vines erupted into an excited frenzy, suddenly wriggling energetically into his armpits. The words Clint was trying to say cut off into a sudden, loud HOWL. "HOOOOOOOOO- OH HO HO HO AAAAAH OH FUCK NO-HOOO-HOOO!!!"
If he had been an observant or thoughtful kind of man, Clint might have considered that perhaps the plants were drawn to body heat and sweat. His armpits were particularly hot and damp, a prime area for the wiggly little vines. But even if he had been a thoughtful kind of man, it was damned hard to think with that intense tickling making him squeal and wriggle around.
Clint couldn't see it, as it was inside of his shirt and his attention was occupied, but each vine had a number of little mouthlike flowers. Each of these little flowers had their own little thin, tonguelike curls that flitted out and danced over his skin to collect sweat and salt and oil. In addition to the licking, the flower mouths gently munched and nibbled to try to free dead skin on his body to give the plant more nourishment.
All Clint knew was that it tickled like hell and it was absolute torture. He laughed and bellowed for the better part of an hour, unable to do anything more. Finally, as the remnants of sweat and skin cells in his armpits were nibbled and lapped up by the vines, the tickling began to subside. Clint had been just on the verge of passing out when they began to let up and he gasped deeply for breath. "Oh… oh, fuck," he sighed.
But there was no time to be relieved, because the little feelers were squirming onward under his shirt, looking for more nourishment. Clint shivered to feel them snaking over his ribs. "Ahahaha! Fff-fuck, can't you be done?"
But what was worse than that was when a caterpillar vine feathered over one of his nipples. It sent a flinch through him and made him squeak a high and very unmanly sound. "Eek!"
That flinch and that squeak seemed to be a signal to the vines. The fuzzy tendril moved back and began to stroke and swirl around this spot. A little flower mouth came closer and flicked its springy, tickly tongue over his now stiff nipple. "Ohhh, ff-fuck, no! OH-HO-HO NO!" Clint's squirming and laughing picked up again and another tendril found his other nipple. It was like an electric shock of tickling straight through his nipples and it made Clint's chest come forward and his head fall back. "Aaah! Hahahaha! Oh-ho-ho, oh, enough, please, hahaha!"
Plants do not have ears and do not listen to begging. But what this plant did respond to was the fact that tickling made this human wiggle and produce more lovely heat and tasty sweat.
The crawlers kept crawling and, to Clint's horror, found a pocket of nourishment in his bellybutton. The moment a flower dipped in to munch and lick it's little spring tongue, Clint squealed out a loud, desperate laugh. "HEEEEEE! Ah- heee-heee- puh-leee-heeese, nooooo-hoo-hooo!"
And now, the wiggling frenzy of vines renewed again. They slithered all around his torso and spine and even went back to his armpits, going after the new sweat and oils his body was making as he shook with laughter. Clint couldn't stand it and he howled and screamed as he laughed. Tears began to leak out of the corners of his eyes and the little flower mouths went after those too, tickling the creases at his eyes with their flitting tongues as they lapped up the moisture.
This round of torture was even longer than before. It was two hours before the little feelers and flowers began to slow. Somehow, Clint had remained conscious through the entirety. He was red and flushed all over, gasping deeply for air. When it finally ended, he was completely exhausted. If not for the vines holding him up, he'd be in a heap on the ground. His head was hanging, chin against his chest. The deep rush of breaths into his lungs made him dizzy and giddy, as did his dehydration.
As he began to come to his senses, that was when Clint realized how damned thirsty he was. The laughing had left his throat dry and the plants were specifically making him sweat, sapping him of moisture.
However, this plant apparently had a failsafe to make sure its tasty little heater did not die of thirst. A big red bud came forward into Clint's view. It smelled sweet like syrup and it had a glistening drop of liquid on the end of it. He was so thirsty… Clint stretched his chin forward and poked out his tongue. He just barely reached the drop of red liquid and it spread out deliciously onto his tongue. It was not heavily sweet like it smelled, but just lightly so, tasting more of strawberry than of sugar.
He thought for a moment that this would be a new way for the plant to torture him - to deprive him of the delicious liquid, but he was wrong. The bud moved in closer and he was able to seal his lips to it. Immediately, Clint sucked and pulled the fluid into his mouth. It wasn't just delicious, but it was cooled by the shade, lightly chilled. It was refreshing and hydrating and seemed to renew his energy. Clint sucked and gulped greedily, but the plant withdrew the bud again before he felt he had his fill.
"Hngh. Get back here…" he complained, even though he knew the plant couldn't hear him.
But the bud was gone and the little feelers were back at work. "Hahaha! Oh, not again…"
They felt down his waist to where his shirt tucked into his belted pants and seemed to be caught up there. Likewise, the ends of other vines seemed to be poking curiously at the tops of his boots, where his pants tucked into them. Clint sighed in relief, thinking that this must be his first stroke of luck - at least the vines couldn't get into the rest of his clothes and SOME of his body would be unmolested.
But unfortunately for poor Clint, he was wrong about that too. The vines at his shoes began to writhe and churn around. The plants enveloped his shoes and began to pull. Clint's eyes widened. His boots were tied up pretty snugly, but the vines were poking and pulling at the laces.
"Oh, no way… come on, now…" A knot came free and he felt the bootlaces loosen. It made him groan and shut his eyes tightly. "Oh, come on, please, not again. How does a plant untie shoes? That's not even fair…"
Plants don't play fair, though, and they don't bargain. They're brainless things that react on instinct. They certainly weren't trying to be malicious. They were just doing what they do by nature, which just so happened to be terribly ticklish to their captive.
As his boot began to slip, Clint tried to bend his foot up to keep the boot on. With the laces loosened, there was enough space now for the vines to worm their way into his boot. Slowly, they wriggled down his calf, to his ankle. Even this was beginning to make him giggle again. "Oh-ho-ho. Hee-hee, no, no. Don't you dare. Don't you even think about it, damn it…."
Dread began to settle in Clint's gut. He really couldn't stand his feet being tickled. This was going to be a nightmare. He looked down to the forest floor, where his machete was still sitting there in the dirt. If only he could squirm out of these vines, he could get to it and chop his way free!
The boot on his right foot shifted and slowly began to slide off. The moment was coming and he couldn't do anything about it. Clint shut his eyes and bit his tongue to try to brace himself. Be a man. Grow a tougher skin…
The vines wriggled over the sock, reaching to the bottom of his foot. It made him jump and giggle immediately, but didn't tickle as badly as he feared it would. The sock excited the plant quite a bit and the flower mouths began munching and nibbling frantically, bobbing and tapping at the fabric at his sole. Each little tap sent a surge of ticklishness up Clint's leg and he wiggled and laughed louder. "Ha! Hahaha! Ah! Stoo-ho-hoop! Ah-haha!"
The boot over his left foot began to slide and Clint lifted his foot up to try to catch this one too. The vines did the same as they did on the other foot and wriggled right inside. The needy plant squirmed and worked the boot loose from the inside. As it slid off, the excitable flowers began a munching frenzy on the sock of his other foot too.
Now, Clint was shaking with heavy laughs. "Hahahaa! Oh-hoho-hoooo god! Aahaha! I can't ta-ha-hake it!" And it was about to get worse. Now that his shoes were off, the vines were squirming into his pantlegs… and they found the tops of his socks. Vine tips started to poke softly inside the top of his socks, which began to slowly push them down. "Hoo-oho-ho-ho nooo. Nooo-hoo-hoo!! No-ho-hoot tha-ha-haat!!"
He knew it was coming. He knew he couldn't stop it, but he tried his best anyhow. He scrunched his toes as tight as he could, trying to pinch and hang onto the fabric. Of course, it was no use. Agonizingly slowly, the little feelers tickled lightly down, down…
Feathery vines began to stroke at the heels of both his feet and Clint's laughter was becoming panicky. "Ahahaha! HA, fuck-fuck-fuck, no, no!! HAHAHA!" The socks slipped a little more and the air touched his arches right before the caterpillar vines did. This made the poor captive man jerk and yell. "NO-HO-HOOO! HAHAA!!" It tickled too much… his toes lost their grip on the socks and vines yanked the semi-protective layers away. Clint barely had time to suck in a gasp before it came belting out of him in a deep laugh, when the plants began scribbling at the balls of his feet and around his scrunched toes. "AAAAAAAAAAH!!! HAHAHAHAAA OH NO NO HA HAAA P-AH- LEE-HEE-HEESE!"
Now, a new feeding frenzy began. The vines scribbled and stroked his poor, helpless feet. The flower mouths nibbled and munched at every line and wrinkle in his soles. Their little springy tongues flickered and tasted all over, driving Clint wild with ticklish agony. When the plants noticed the pockets of nourishment between his toes, they squirmed invasively in. They wrapped each of his toes in its own thin vine and splayed them apart so they could get at every nook and cranny inside. Tiny tongues flicked and licked. Tiny little soft mouths nibbled incessantly. Clint howled and screamed out tortured laughter.
It was worse than anything he'd ever felt before. It was so maddening, Clint wished he could will himself to pass out, but he was wide awake, feeling every tiny touch. Once more, all his hollering and writhing made his body work up a sweat. Horrifically, the vines in his shirt began to squirm again. As his feet were tortured, so were his armpits, his nipples, his ribs, belly, spine, and his bellybutton, all over again.
It was blindingly ticklish. The combination of each ticklish spot being punished all at once was unbearable, but the poor man could do nothing but endure it. What Clint didn't realize was that the liquid he had swallowed down so greedily before was actually the thing keeping him from passing out. The plant had developed this nectar to keep its victims awake and squirming.
Another hour passed like this before the little vines seemed satisfied that they had lapped up every last bit of sweat and nibbled all of the dead skin cells from Clint's feet. The tickling slowed down and ended again, leaving the vines to begin snuffling curiously around once more.
Clint's breaths heaved. If not for the plant's attentions, his shirt would be completely drenched with sweat right now. He realized with discomfort, though, that his pants and underpants were damp with sweat and sticking to his skin. The little crawlers were starting further up his pantlegs, tickling lightly up his shins and calves.
Clint had barely caught his breath before a little giggle started up in his chest again. "Hee-hee--oh, come on. Come on, damn it. Hee-hee. J-just let me rest.."
There would be no rest this time. The vines snaked their way up to Clint's knees. Clint had no idea how ticklish his knees actually were. The vines poked and squeezed gently at his kneecaps, which started him laughing again. And when they stroked behind his knees, it made him want to jump out of his skin. The pits of his knees were as ticklish as his armpits! "Aaaah! Oh nooo-hoo- ahahaha!!!"
This squeezing and stroking continued as other vines trailed up higher and higher. As they got to his thighs, the plant began to wiggle with a bit more energy again. Clint's laughter hitched and he tried to squeeze his thighs together to protect the sensitive inner thigh area and, of course, his groin. But the plants already sensed the warmth and sweat there and the plants were determined to get at it.
Feelers were snaking around his waist, along his belt. "Hahaha. No-ho-ho way. No, this can't be-hee-hee happ-hahaha-happening…"
It was certainly happening. The vines were slipping the end of his belt backward and loosening the buckle. Clint was helpless to stop it as the vines began to creep into the waist of his pants. Just like with his socks, this sweat-dampened fabric excited the plant. "Nooo, no-no-no, not that-nooo!!"
The frenzy that Clint dreaded didn't come yet. Instead, the vines all began to wriggle around him, working his pants down and simultaneously pulling his shirt up. "Hey! Hahaha! S-stop it now! Cut it out!" The squiggling of the vines against his skin did tickle, but not as much as it would when the nibbling and licking would start up again.
Clint was shaking again with laughter. He tried to press his legs together even tighter. However, the plant was drawn to the warmth and sweat of his yet untouched skin. As his pants and underpants slipped down from his ankles, the vines began to pry his shivering legs apart. "Haahahaa!! NO NO NO-HO-HOOOOO! Ohhhh GOD NO!!"
Now, the poor man was completely naked, held in an inverted Y position with his arms pulled up straight over his head and his legs spread wide apart. This left his groin hanging completely free and unprotected. Clint's eyes were wide as saucers as he looked down over his nude body and saw the soft, flowered vines creeping up his thighs again.
If the tickling was that bad on his feet and the rest of him, how would it feel against his genitals? Clint did not want to find out. And once again, he had no choice.
The strokes and light pinches at his knees started Clint giggling again and the vines squirmed higher, up to his thighs. The anticipation made it so much worse, feeling the tickling plants slowly creeping closer and closer to his most sensitive place. As the caterpillar vines started touching his upper inner thighs, Clint's head rocked back and his mouth fell open, letting out another loud, howling laugh. "HOOOOOWWW-HOO-HOOOO-HOOOO!! OOOH NO-NOOO-HOOO!!!"
Not only did it tickle, but against his will, Clint's dick was starting to stand up. He couldn't help it, no matter how much he wanted to. The touches coming closer to his genitals sent involuntary thrills of pleasure into his pelvis. It only intensified as vines crept up right to the joints of his hips, beginning to ticklishly explore the crooks where his legs met his body.
The plant's leaves began to shiver and rattle again as Clint shivered too, helpless in the hold of the vines. His hips squirmed and bucked every which way, desperate to stop the plants from creeping that last inch, but there was nothing he could do. The vines made their way to the base of his penis and, more horribly, his ultra sensitive testicles.
Clint let out a new HOWL, louder and more desperate than anything else yet. He knew it was going to be bad, but he could never have anticipated how unbearably torturous it was to have the vines stroking, nibbling, and licking at his engorged dick and balls. "HOOOOOO NOOO HOOOO HOOOOO NOOOO HAAAA AAAAAAAHH! FFFFU-HA-HA-HAAAACK!!"
He roared and screamed. Tears were flowing freely from his eyes and his body was flushed from head to toe, beginning to glisten with new sweat.
All around him, the vines came to life again. They began to squiggle down his arms and back into his armpits. They trailed down his torso and teased his nipples mercilessly. His ribs were toyed with and stroked and pinched. Soft brushlike leaves twirled up and down his spine and lower back. A nibbly flower dipped deep into his bellybutton and flitted out its coiled tongue to feed. The devious vines at his feet splayed his toes apart again and started a fresh, agonizing frenzy in the sensitive little crevices. Nibbling flowers mouths went up and down his soles, torturing every inch of ticklish skin.
Clint was out of his mind, wild with helpless hysterics. The tickling was all over and it was more intense than anything. Vines were writhing along his buttcheeks and even flittering up and down his neck and ears, really reaching every last inch of his ticklish body.
The very last inch was the swollen head of his cock. Even amid the hell of intense tickling, Clint could feel it very clearly when a flower mouth began to nibble at his head. He thought he would explode right there, but he couldn't. The tickling was invasive and monstrously intense and it was making an orgasm build within him, but his body couldn't release. He didn't know, but this was another side effect of the strawberry-flavored nectar. Not only did it keep him from passing out, but it kept him on the edge of orgasm. The longer the torment could last, the more lovely heat and sweat the plant could milk out of him.
It seemed that wasn't all the plant wanted to milk. Clint's screaming laughter kicked up an octave when he felt, very acutely, as a flower mouth sealed around the head of his cock and a thin, coily tongue dipped right into his cum hole. The tongue was longer than Clint would have expected, and flicked down deep, tickling him incessantly.
He squirmed like nothing else, trying to dislodge this flower, but it wouldn't release. Its tongue flickered down and up again and again. If it weren't for that damned nectar, this would have easily gotten him to blow his load.
Just then, the vines at his ass began to wiggle between his cheeks. Clint was beyond words and beyond begging now, overcome with helpless, wild laughter. He screeched with torment as a vine wiggled its way right up his asshole to tickle him from the inside.
There was nothing Clint could do but endure every inch of it. No matter how he screamed and laughed and blubbered, the plant just wouldn't quit. The most sensitive and vulnerable places on his body were being mercilessly punished. It just kept tickling and tickling like absolute hell.
The vines kept him on the edge of insanity for two more hours. Two hours of complete and utter hell before finally, the power of the nectar began to weaken and the orgasm waiting inside him, building larger and larger, finally broke free. Clint's body bucked and jerked hard as semen gushed out of him, right into the gulping flower mouth still attached to his penis. The vines kept tickling even through the orgasm, which intensified both pleasure and ticklish torment at the same time. It was the most powerful orgasm Clint had ever experienced, far beyond anything he had ever imagined, and semen kept squirting for almost a full minute.
Finally, when the last of his load was pumped out of him and his muscles were too weak to move any more, the vines finally slowed their relentless torture. Clint was hanging completely limp again, chest heaving as he gasped for breaths.
As his respiration and heartbeat began to slow, that was when he realized he heard footsteps in the leaves. He was too tired and defeated to even look up.
But he knew that voice. "CLINT!" It was Charlotte.
She was the main reason he was out here now. This morning, Charlotte had been warning him to stay away from the area they'd marked off on their map as Sector B. "It's too dangerous," she said. "The plants have a mind of their own! One of them grabbed me! If Maggie hadn't been there to help me free, I don't know what might've happened!"
That was the most ridiculous thing Clint had ever heard and he guffawed at Charlotte for saying it. Surely, that was just a woman's runaway imagination getting the best of her.
"Fine then," Charlotte said. "If you're so big and brave, why don't you go and fetch my binoculars? I accidentally dropped them when the plants got me. If you can go and get them and come back without trouble before the end of the day, then we'll both know who was right and who was wrong."
Now, as Clint cut his way through the forest, he coaxed himself on. "I can't wait to see the look on her face when I come back before lunch with those binoculars. Oooh, big scary plants caught me." He snorted. "Haha."
He lifted his machete high above his head. As he tried to swing it down, though, his wrist snagged a vine and became caught. "What the?" He looked up in time to notice the vine slither around his wrist like a snake. Now, that wasn't what he expected to happen and the shock of it made him yelp out in alarm. He tugged hard, but the plants were surprisingly strong and had a terribly good grip of him.
"A mind of their own," he repeated in a grumble. "It's just a dumb plant." Clint lifted his left hand up so he could pass his machete over. As soon as he had the handle of the knife in his other hand, though, another vine whipped out of nowhere and wound itself around this wrist too. "Oh, what the HELL?"
He was in a strange position now, with both of his arms stretched up as high as they'd go over his head, wrists pinned close together. He thrashed and wriggled, like a fish on a line. He'd have looked ridiculous to anyone who saw him, but thankfully (or not so thankfully, perhaps), no one was around. He yelled and cussed and twisted his hand to get the sharp edge of the blade against a vine. He began a sawing motion, since he didn't have enough movement to swing and chop.
The sawing did nothing to cut into the vine, but what it did do was produce a strange shivering in the plants, which rattled leaves all around him.
"Come on, come ON, you dumb plant. Cut…" Of course, the vines did not obey. Instead, more of them began to snake down his arms. It seemed like these vines were curious things, wanting to explore him by feel. Clint wanted none of that and he only redoubled his efforts to fight the things off and cut them away.
At this point, something truly alarming occurred. The forest floor became alive with moving vines, which slithered up to twist around the ankles of his booted feet. When both ankles were secured, the vines overhead moved higher and stretched him out further. "Aaah!" In his alarm, Clint lost hold of his machete, which tumbled down to the ground, in sight but out of reach. "Damn it!"
Now, he was beginning to get worried. He was trapped, no question about it, and he had just lost his only hope of freeing himself. A different man in a similar situation might begin to worry that perhaps he could die like this, but Clint had concerns far worse than dying. "Damn it to hell. I have to get free before Charlotte and the team start looking for me," he told himself. "I couldn't stand the look on her face if she found me like this."
Before he could have a chance to think up a plan, though, he had something new to occupy his thoughts. The creeping vines around his arms began to poke and wiggle down to his armpits. The way the vines moved and stroked at his clothes sent an unexpected shock into the man's body. He flinched and let out a little laugh, "Oh-ho-ho-ho, what now?"
Clint squirmed, but the plants had him held practically immobile. The stroking and poking continued on, which sent further ticklish sensations through him. The fact that he couldn't move and couldn't get away only made it tickle more. "Oh-ho-ho-ahaha-ahaa…" A sinking feeling hit Clint in the stomach as he comprehended the fact that he was trapped, with no way to escape, and the moving plants were actually tickling him.
"Ahaha-haha-oh hell! Urgh, no…" Clint screwed his eyes shut and tipped his chin down to his chest, trying to focus his energy on trying to block out the sensations. Maybe the plants would just finish whatever they were doing and it would stop. "Be a man, Clint," he grunted to himself, arms shivering as the plants swirled and poked. "Grow a thicker skin. Toughen up."
For a time, it worked. Oh, it still tickled, but he wasn't going to giggle and squirm like a little child. If the plants did have a mind of their own, though, it seemed that they had a determination to get him to laugh. The exploring tips of the vines decided to explore further, finding the cuffs of his sleeves and wriggling inside, between fabric and skin.
The vines were soft, coated in a fine fuzz, like caterpillars. Like very tickly caterpillars.
As the vines slithered down his skin, Clint cracked and a laugh finally escaped him again. "Aaah-ahahaha! Oh, damn. Oh, hell. Oh-ho-ho. No, damn it…"
His anxiety built as the little feelers tickled delicately around, inching further and further down. Goosebumps erupted over his skin. The little vines poked and stroked down his forearms. When they reached his elbows, Clint let out another louder laugh, surprised at how sensitive the crooks of his elbows were. "Aah! Hahaha! Oh, fff-fuck! Get off!"
But that was nothing compared to the tickling that awaited him when the ends of the vines began to snuffle into his armpits. Clint let out a loud snort at the first light touches and began squirming harder. "Hfft! Ahahaha. Oh, no, no, no. Not there…." He didn't know why he was talking to a plant. A plant can't understand. But nonetheless, he tried to bargain, "Oh-oh… okay, how about you j- ju-hust let me go now… a-ha-ha-and I won't chop you-hoo-hoo with the..."
Unexpectedly, the vines erupted into an excited frenzy, suddenly wriggling energetically into his armpits. The words Clint was trying to say cut off into a sudden, loud HOWL. "HOOOOOOOOO- OH HO HO HO AAAAAH OH FUCK NO-HOOO-HOOO!!!"
If he had been an observant or thoughtful kind of man, Clint might have considered that perhaps the plants were drawn to body heat and sweat. His armpits were particularly hot and damp, a prime area for the wiggly little vines. But even if he had been a thoughtful kind of man, it was damned hard to think with that intense tickling making him squeal and wriggle around.
Clint couldn't see it, as it was inside of his shirt and his attention was occupied, but each vine had a number of little mouthlike flowers. Each of these little flowers had their own little thin, tonguelike curls that flitted out and danced over his skin to collect sweat and salt and oil. In addition to the licking, the flower mouths gently munched and nibbled to try to free dead skin on his body to give the plant more nourishment.
All Clint knew was that it tickled like hell and it was absolute torture. He laughed and bellowed for the better part of an hour, unable to do anything more. Finally, as the remnants of sweat and skin cells in his armpits were nibbled and lapped up by the vines, the tickling began to subside. Clint had been just on the verge of passing out when they began to let up and he gasped deeply for breath. "Oh… oh, fuck," he sighed.
But there was no time to be relieved, because the little feelers were squirming onward under his shirt, looking for more nourishment. Clint shivered to feel them snaking over his ribs. "Ahahaha! Fff-fuck, can't you be done?"
But what was worse than that was when a caterpillar vine feathered over one of his nipples. It sent a flinch through him and made him squeak a high and very unmanly sound. "Eek!"
That flinch and that squeak seemed to be a signal to the vines. The fuzzy tendril moved back and began to stroke and swirl around this spot. A little flower mouth came closer and flicked its springy, tickly tongue over his now stiff nipple. "Ohhh, ff-fuck, no! OH-HO-HO NO!" Clint's squirming and laughing picked up again and another tendril found his other nipple. It was like an electric shock of tickling straight through his nipples and it made Clint's chest come forward and his head fall back. "Aaah! Hahahaha! Oh-ho-ho, oh, enough, please, hahaha!"
Plants do not have ears and do not listen to begging. But what this plant did respond to was the fact that tickling made this human wiggle and produce more lovely heat and tasty sweat.
The crawlers kept crawling and, to Clint's horror, found a pocket of nourishment in his bellybutton. The moment a flower dipped in to munch and lick it's little spring tongue, Clint squealed out a loud, desperate laugh. "HEEEEEE! Ah- heee-heee- puh-leee-heeese, nooooo-hoo-hooo!"
And now, the wiggling frenzy of vines renewed again. They slithered all around his torso and spine and even went back to his armpits, going after the new sweat and oils his body was making as he shook with laughter. Clint couldn't stand it and he howled and screamed as he laughed. Tears began to leak out of the corners of his eyes and the little flower mouths went after those too, tickling the creases at his eyes with their flitting tongues as they lapped up the moisture.
This round of torture was even longer than before. It was two hours before the little feelers and flowers began to slow. Somehow, Clint had remained conscious through the entirety. He was red and flushed all over, gasping deeply for air. When it finally ended, he was completely exhausted. If not for the vines holding him up, he'd be in a heap on the ground. His head was hanging, chin against his chest. The deep rush of breaths into his lungs made him dizzy and giddy, as did his dehydration.
As he began to come to his senses, that was when Clint realized how damned thirsty he was. The laughing had left his throat dry and the plants were specifically making him sweat, sapping him of moisture.
However, this plant apparently had a failsafe to make sure its tasty little heater did not die of thirst. A big red bud came forward into Clint's view. It smelled sweet like syrup and it had a glistening drop of liquid on the end of it. He was so thirsty… Clint stretched his chin forward and poked out his tongue. He just barely reached the drop of red liquid and it spread out deliciously onto his tongue. It was not heavily sweet like it smelled, but just lightly so, tasting more of strawberry than of sugar.
He thought for a moment that this would be a new way for the plant to torture him - to deprive him of the delicious liquid, but he was wrong. The bud moved in closer and he was able to seal his lips to it. Immediately, Clint sucked and pulled the fluid into his mouth. It wasn't just delicious, but it was cooled by the shade, lightly chilled. It was refreshing and hydrating and seemed to renew his energy. Clint sucked and gulped greedily, but the plant withdrew the bud again before he felt he had his fill.
"Hngh. Get back here…" he complained, even though he knew the plant couldn't hear him.
But the bud was gone and the little feelers were back at work. "Hahaha! Oh, not again…"
They felt down his waist to where his shirt tucked into his belted pants and seemed to be caught up there. Likewise, the ends of other vines seemed to be poking curiously at the tops of his boots, where his pants tucked into them. Clint sighed in relief, thinking that this must be his first stroke of luck - at least the vines couldn't get into the rest of his clothes and SOME of his body would be unmolested.
But unfortunately for poor Clint, he was wrong about that too. The vines at his shoes began to writhe and churn around. The plants enveloped his shoes and began to pull. Clint's eyes widened. His boots were tied up pretty snugly, but the vines were poking and pulling at the laces.
"Oh, no way… come on, now…" A knot came free and he felt the bootlaces loosen. It made him groan and shut his eyes tightly. "Oh, come on, please, not again. How does a plant untie shoes? That's not even fair…"
Plants don't play fair, though, and they don't bargain. They're brainless things that react on instinct. They certainly weren't trying to be malicious. They were just doing what they do by nature, which just so happened to be terribly ticklish to their captive.
As his boot began to slip, Clint tried to bend his foot up to keep the boot on. With the laces loosened, there was enough space now for the vines to worm their way into his boot. Slowly, they wriggled down his calf, to his ankle. Even this was beginning to make him giggle again. "Oh-ho-ho. Hee-hee, no, no. Don't you dare. Don't you even think about it, damn it…."
Dread began to settle in Clint's gut. He really couldn't stand his feet being tickled. This was going to be a nightmare. He looked down to the forest floor, where his machete was still sitting there in the dirt. If only he could squirm out of these vines, he could get to it and chop his way free!
The boot on his right foot shifted and slowly began to slide off. The moment was coming and he couldn't do anything about it. Clint shut his eyes and bit his tongue to try to brace himself. Be a man. Grow a tougher skin…
The vines wriggled over the sock, reaching to the bottom of his foot. It made him jump and giggle immediately, but didn't tickle as badly as he feared it would. The sock excited the plant quite a bit and the flower mouths began munching and nibbling frantically, bobbing and tapping at the fabric at his sole. Each little tap sent a surge of ticklishness up Clint's leg and he wiggled and laughed louder. "Ha! Hahaha! Ah! Stoo-ho-hoop! Ah-haha!"
The boot over his left foot began to slide and Clint lifted his foot up to try to catch this one too. The vines did the same as they did on the other foot and wriggled right inside. The needy plant squirmed and worked the boot loose from the inside. As it slid off, the excitable flowers began a munching frenzy on the sock of his other foot too.
Now, Clint was shaking with heavy laughs. "Hahahaa! Oh-hoho-hoooo god! Aahaha! I can't ta-ha-hake it!" And it was about to get worse. Now that his shoes were off, the vines were squirming into his pantlegs… and they found the tops of his socks. Vine tips started to poke softly inside the top of his socks, which began to slowly push them down. "Hoo-oho-ho-ho nooo. Nooo-hoo-hoo!! No-ho-hoot tha-ha-haat!!"
He knew it was coming. He knew he couldn't stop it, but he tried his best anyhow. He scrunched his toes as tight as he could, trying to pinch and hang onto the fabric. Of course, it was no use. Agonizingly slowly, the little feelers tickled lightly down, down…
Feathery vines began to stroke at the heels of both his feet and Clint's laughter was becoming panicky. "Ahahaha! HA, fuck-fuck-fuck, no, no!! HAHAHA!" The socks slipped a little more and the air touched his arches right before the caterpillar vines did. This made the poor captive man jerk and yell. "NO-HO-HOOO! HAHAA!!" It tickled too much… his toes lost their grip on the socks and vines yanked the semi-protective layers away. Clint barely had time to suck in a gasp before it came belting out of him in a deep laugh, when the plants began scribbling at the balls of his feet and around his scrunched toes. "AAAAAAAAAAH!!! HAHAHAHAAA OH NO NO HA HAAA P-AH- LEE-HEE-HEESE!"
Now, a new feeding frenzy began. The vines scribbled and stroked his poor, helpless feet. The flower mouths nibbled and munched at every line and wrinkle in his soles. Their little springy tongues flickered and tasted all over, driving Clint wild with ticklish agony. When the plants noticed the pockets of nourishment between his toes, they squirmed invasively in. They wrapped each of his toes in its own thin vine and splayed them apart so they could get at every nook and cranny inside. Tiny tongues flicked and licked. Tiny little soft mouths nibbled incessantly. Clint howled and screamed out tortured laughter.
It was worse than anything he'd ever felt before. It was so maddening, Clint wished he could will himself to pass out, but he was wide awake, feeling every tiny touch. Once more, all his hollering and writhing made his body work up a sweat. Horrifically, the vines in his shirt began to squirm again. As his feet were tortured, so were his armpits, his nipples, his ribs, belly, spine, and his bellybutton, all over again.
It was blindingly ticklish. The combination of each ticklish spot being punished all at once was unbearable, but the poor man could do nothing but endure it. What Clint didn't realize was that the liquid he had swallowed down so greedily before was actually the thing keeping him from passing out. The plant had developed this nectar to keep its victims awake and squirming.
Another hour passed like this before the little vines seemed satisfied that they had lapped up every last bit of sweat and nibbled all of the dead skin cells from Clint's feet. The tickling slowed down and ended again, leaving the vines to begin snuffling curiously around once more.
Clint's breaths heaved. If not for the plant's attentions, his shirt would be completely drenched with sweat right now. He realized with discomfort, though, that his pants and underpants were damp with sweat and sticking to his skin. The little crawlers were starting further up his pantlegs, tickling lightly up his shins and calves.
Clint had barely caught his breath before a little giggle started up in his chest again. "Hee-hee--oh, come on. Come on, damn it. Hee-hee. J-just let me rest.."
There would be no rest this time. The vines snaked their way up to Clint's knees. Clint had no idea how ticklish his knees actually were. The vines poked and squeezed gently at his kneecaps, which started him laughing again. And when they stroked behind his knees, it made him want to jump out of his skin. The pits of his knees were as ticklish as his armpits! "Aaaah! Oh nooo-hoo- ahahaha!!!"
This squeezing and stroking continued as other vines trailed up higher and higher. As they got to his thighs, the plant began to wiggle with a bit more energy again. Clint's laughter hitched and he tried to squeeze his thighs together to protect the sensitive inner thigh area and, of course, his groin. But the plants already sensed the warmth and sweat there and the plants were determined to get at it.
Feelers were snaking around his waist, along his belt. "Hahaha. No-ho-ho way. No, this can't be-hee-hee happ-hahaha-happening…"
It was certainly happening. The vines were slipping the end of his belt backward and loosening the buckle. Clint was helpless to stop it as the vines began to creep into the waist of his pants. Just like with his socks, this sweat-dampened fabric excited the plant. "Nooo, no-no-no, not that-nooo!!"
The frenzy that Clint dreaded didn't come yet. Instead, the vines all began to wriggle around him, working his pants down and simultaneously pulling his shirt up. "Hey! Hahaha! S-stop it now! Cut it out!" The squiggling of the vines against his skin did tickle, but not as much as it would when the nibbling and licking would start up again.
Clint was shaking again with laughter. He tried to press his legs together even tighter. However, the plant was drawn to the warmth and sweat of his yet untouched skin. As his pants and underpants slipped down from his ankles, the vines began to pry his shivering legs apart. "Haahahaa!! NO NO NO-HO-HOOOOO! Ohhhh GOD NO!!"
Now, the poor man was completely naked, held in an inverted Y position with his arms pulled up straight over his head and his legs spread wide apart. This left his groin hanging completely free and unprotected. Clint's eyes were wide as saucers as he looked down over his nude body and saw the soft, flowered vines creeping up his thighs again.
If the tickling was that bad on his feet and the rest of him, how would it feel against his genitals? Clint did not want to find out. And once again, he had no choice.
The strokes and light pinches at his knees started Clint giggling again and the vines squirmed higher, up to his thighs. The anticipation made it so much worse, feeling the tickling plants slowly creeping closer and closer to his most sensitive place. As the caterpillar vines started touching his upper inner thighs, Clint's head rocked back and his mouth fell open, letting out another loud, howling laugh. "HOOOOOWWW-HOO-HOOOO-HOOOO!! OOOH NO-NOOO-HOOO!!!"
Not only did it tickle, but against his will, Clint's dick was starting to stand up. He couldn't help it, no matter how much he wanted to. The touches coming closer to his genitals sent involuntary thrills of pleasure into his pelvis. It only intensified as vines crept up right to the joints of his hips, beginning to ticklishly explore the crooks where his legs met his body.
The plant's leaves began to shiver and rattle again as Clint shivered too, helpless in the hold of the vines. His hips squirmed and bucked every which way, desperate to stop the plants from creeping that last inch, but there was nothing he could do. The vines made their way to the base of his penis and, more horribly, his ultra sensitive testicles.
Clint let out a new HOWL, louder and more desperate than anything else yet. He knew it was going to be bad, but he could never have anticipated how unbearably torturous it was to have the vines stroking, nibbling, and licking at his engorged dick and balls. "HOOOOOO NOOO HOOOO HOOOOO NOOOO HAAAA AAAAAAAHH! FFFFU-HA-HA-HAAAACK!!"
He roared and screamed. Tears were flowing freely from his eyes and his body was flushed from head to toe, beginning to glisten with new sweat.
All around him, the vines came to life again. They began to squiggle down his arms and back into his armpits. They trailed down his torso and teased his nipples mercilessly. His ribs were toyed with and stroked and pinched. Soft brushlike leaves twirled up and down his spine and lower back. A nibbly flower dipped deep into his bellybutton and flitted out its coiled tongue to feed. The devious vines at his feet splayed his toes apart again and started a fresh, agonizing frenzy in the sensitive little crevices. Nibbling flowers mouths went up and down his soles, torturing every inch of ticklish skin.
Clint was out of his mind, wild with helpless hysterics. The tickling was all over and it was more intense than anything. Vines were writhing along his buttcheeks and even flittering up and down his neck and ears, really reaching every last inch of his ticklish body.
The very last inch was the swollen head of his cock. Even amid the hell of intense tickling, Clint could feel it very clearly when a flower mouth began to nibble at his head. He thought he would explode right there, but he couldn't. The tickling was invasive and monstrously intense and it was making an orgasm build within him, but his body couldn't release. He didn't know, but this was another side effect of the strawberry-flavored nectar. Not only did it keep him from passing out, but it kept him on the edge of orgasm. The longer the torment could last, the more lovely heat and sweat the plant could milk out of him.
It seemed that wasn't all the plant wanted to milk. Clint's screaming laughter kicked up an octave when he felt, very acutely, as a flower mouth sealed around the head of his cock and a thin, coily tongue dipped right into his cum hole. The tongue was longer than Clint would have expected, and flicked down deep, tickling him incessantly.
He squirmed like nothing else, trying to dislodge this flower, but it wouldn't release. Its tongue flickered down and up again and again. If it weren't for that damned nectar, this would have easily gotten him to blow his load.
Just then, the vines at his ass began to wiggle between his cheeks. Clint was beyond words and beyond begging now, overcome with helpless, wild laughter. He screeched with torment as a vine wiggled its way right up his asshole to tickle him from the inside.
There was nothing Clint could do but endure every inch of it. No matter how he screamed and laughed and blubbered, the plant just wouldn't quit. The most sensitive and vulnerable places on his body were being mercilessly punished. It just kept tickling and tickling like absolute hell.
The vines kept him on the edge of insanity for two more hours. Two hours of complete and utter hell before finally, the power of the nectar began to weaken and the orgasm waiting inside him, building larger and larger, finally broke free. Clint's body bucked and jerked hard as semen gushed out of him, right into the gulping flower mouth still attached to his penis. The vines kept tickling even through the orgasm, which intensified both pleasure and ticklish torment at the same time. It was the most powerful orgasm Clint had ever experienced, far beyond anything he had ever imagined, and semen kept squirting for almost a full minute.
Finally, when the last of his load was pumped out of him and his muscles were too weak to move any more, the vines finally slowed their relentless torture. Clint was hanging completely limp again, chest heaving as he gasped for breaths.
As his respiration and heartbeat began to slow, that was when he realized he heard footsteps in the leaves. He was too tired and defeated to even look up.
But he knew that voice. "CLINT!" It was Charlotte.
Yes! 
Thank you again!
