Charlotte was right. Damn her. Post orgasm, Clint's body was now much, much more sensitive to touch, making him monstrously ticklish. It was agony like he couldn't believe. The vines held him firmly in an inverted Y with his arms stretched up and his legs spread out wide. Every inch of his now explosively-sensitive skin was covered in caterpillar-like crawlers, soft, flitting feathery leaves, and those god-awful nibbling mouths with their thin, springy tongues, continually teasing and torturing him, on and on.
The plant's hundreds of nibbling mouths seemed to love the honey on his skin even more than his sweat and oil, though the vigorous tickling sure made him produce more oil and sweat too for the maddeningly tickly tongues to lap up.
The tickling was incessant, intense, and unabashedly invasive. Plants are not shy. The sensations were enormous and absolutely unbearable, but poor Clint had to bear it anyway. There was no escape from his captivity and thanks to the nectar, he was wide awake, full of writhing energy, and unable to fully reach orgasm for anything.
Nibble, nibble, nibble, the little mouths tickled like hell deep in the hollows of his armpits. Clint's arms trembled and strained fruitlessly, unable to lower down evan an inch to protect his vulnerable underarms. Writhing vines played mercilessly up and down his ribs and sides, stroking and squeezing. They slithered and swirled tauntingly along his belly. The hellish tongues lapped wickedly at each of his nipples, which alone would have driven him to wild hysteria. But no. There was so much more to feel! And he had to endure every moment of it.
More of those teasing mouths munched and grazed along his waist. His highly-sensitive navel had its own tormentor, which whirled and twirled a thin, tireless butterfly tongue inside and around. All down his legs were energetic feelers, stroking and tormenting. His knees were squeezed and stroked and the pits of his knees were tickled hellishly by little nibblers and flittering leaves.
His poor, ultra-ticklish feet! Again, their torture alone would have been more than enough to break him. And Clint was well beyond broken by the inescapable situation he found himself in. Each toe was held by its own thin vine, splaying them wide apart. Crawlers wriggled between each toe, back and forth, alternating with swirling feather-leaves and those damnably evil nibbling buds with their flitting tongues. His arches were stroked and scribbled up and down, up and down, again and again. Clint's legs shivered and his toes twitched helplessly, completely defenseless to the constantly tickling vines.
Worst of all was the tickling on his erect cock and balls. Clint felt this more vibrantly and acutely than all of the other tickling torture. Little spring-tongues flitted and licked up and down his hard shaft, alternating with agonizing little nibbles and grazes from the buds. His balls were stroked and teased into madness with incredibly-tickly leaves and wriggling vines from every angle. A caterpillar tendril was wriggling around in his ass, teasing him effectively from the inside. Just like before, the head of his cock was sealed in its own tickling bud, with a horrific spring tongue flickering down deep into his cum-hole again and again.
For hours, it went on. His skin wouldn't tire or numb and just kept feeling every moment this unbearable punishment. Whenever Clint began to feel suffocated, on the verge of passing out, the tickling lightened just enough for him to draw deep breaths between his desperate pleas and helpless laughs. He was blinded to everything but the powerful, completely relentless tickling all over his naked, overtaxed body. Nothing else existed but his tortured nerves, blazing with unstoppable tickling hell.
Charlotte was overjoyed as she watched the man struggle and wail and laugh. It was just as enjoyable as before - more so, as she had an up close view of it all now. She took photograph after photograph of the vines roving vigorously over his body, several closeups of his twisted, tear-stained face, grinning and grimacing both at once. And she took many more closeups of his quivering cock, as it was mercilessly tickled and teased.
Every one of his cries and laughs excited her. The way he squirmed so helplessly got her blood pumping faster.
After a while, Charlotte couldn't help but unbutton the waist of her skirt so she could push her hand down into her underpants and touch herself. Her brilliant blue eyes were locked on Clint as she stroked herself with two fingers.
She watched him closely and she waited patiently until it became apparent that the hold of the nectar was beginning to falter. There was a certain sharpness in Clint's gasps and a renewed twitching of his hips that cued her that the man was finally, finally going to reach that orgasm he'd been on the edge of for hours now.
Clint's deranged laughter pitched up higher, into a loud, long, shrieking wail of ticklishness and pleasure as both sensations amplified the other together. Clint was over the moon, wild with euphoria and excessively over-tickled nerves. Semen pumped out of him, sucked into the greedy mouth of the plant on his cock and it kept licking its spring tongue down into him as he came.
The vines kept cruelly tickling him all over throughout and brought him to a whole new level of agony and bliss.
As Clint finally climaxed, Charlotte let herself break too. Waves of pleasure went through her as Clint choked on his laughs and strangled cries. She moaned deeply, "Oohhh… ohhhh…."
For minutes, Clint quaked and bucked until finally, finally, his cum ran out and the bud on his penis lapped up the last of it. The vines slowed their strokes and sluggishly began to withdraw.
Poor Clint was so exhausted from the experience that he passed out immediately, before the light tickles of the vines even fully ceased. He was heavy and completely limp, like a naked, man-sized doll dangling from the vines. Slowly, the plant lowered his slumbering body to a pillow of vines on the ground. As Clint's body reached the forest floor, several thick vines spread over him back and forth, like straps to hold him securely in place.
Charlotte was breathless from her own waves of orgasm, red-cheeked with satisfaction. She smiled at the sight of the man still trapped in the vines on the jungle floor. "Oh, she's not letting you go for anything now," she said softly to herself. "Mmm. And neither will I. So much more research to be done."
The sun was going down now and Charlotte had her tent all ready. Humming wistfully to herself, she crawled inside to bed down until morning.
As the darkness grew, a few nocturnal creatures emerged - harmless things, birds and insects. A few such insects found themselves crawling on the naked skin of a man dead-asleep on the ground, snugly secured by vines. Clint was far, far too exhausted to wake from his heavy slumber, but he smiled and giggled softly in his sleep. Even in his dreams, he'd be tickled.
Clint's sleep was good and long and blissfully restful. It was the best night's sleep he'd had in longer than he could remember. When his eyes finally opened again, it was daylight. He tried to roll over, but found he couldn't move. Thick vines were pinning him down to the jungle floor, across his chest and legs. His arms were down at his sides.
"Mmpht. Not a dream," he grumbled, trying not to sound too concerned even though he was just talking to himself. "Damn it."
It was quiet. Very quiet. Clint froze for a moment, then lifted his head as high as he could, eyes scanning his surroundings. There was Charlotte's camp, her camera, her notes. There was smoke from a recently extinguished fire. But there was no Charlotte in sight.
Maybe she was gone. Maybe this was his chance to try to escape before … Clint shuddered at the memory. He never thought he could be so completely, thoroughly destroyed just through tickling. The idea of it happening all over again was just too much to think about. No, he had to focus on getting out of this.
That's when he saw it - his machete was still lying there on the ground. It looked like it was just a few feet away! If he could worm his arm free, he could reach out and grab it!
Clint bit his lower lip in concentration and he began to squirm, trying to loosen the vines that held him. But when he did, there was a worrying shiver through the vines and a worryingly familiar-sounding rattle of leaves around him. He sucked in a gasp and froze in place again.
"No. Damnit…" If he moved too much, it would wake the plant. He had to be delicate. He had to be careful! In all honesty, these two words were not descriptors of his personality. At all.
The man's eyebrows pinned down and his face set into a serious expression. As slowly as he could, he began to slant his shoulders and creep one arm up. The plants shifted slightly. He froze again.
He waited. He inched just a little more…
Another shiver. He froze again. He waited… and he slowly started to slide his arm out from under the vines. A few more times, Clint stopped and started, hyper-aware of the motions of the plant. Until finally, about fifteen minutes into this tedious process, his right arm slid free. Now all he had to do was stretch to reach the handle.
He was on his back and the knife was a few feet away almost directly overhead. Clint hastily reached his arm up… too hastily. Just as his hand clasped around the handle of the machete, a quick vine whipped out and wound itself around his wrist, trapping his arm stretched up overhead.
"Damnit, no!" he roared, squirming with agitation. But the more he squirmed, the more the vines awoke. They began to slither and snake around him. The sliding of the vines on his naked skin was a light, teasing tickle. He clenched his teeth and tried not to laugh. He tensed his body and tried to stop himself from squirming.
"Be… a man…" he grunted to himself between gritted teeth.
But there was a single caterpillar vine curiously exploring the skin of his outstretched arm. It was tickling lightly along his forearm, snuffling and testing. Clint's body shivered as he struggled not to react. He couldn't let this happen all over again. Not again. He was a grown man. A strong and capable man! He had been sent to this jungle to protect the team of female scientists. He had to try to block it out so he could chop his way free!
"Hhh—" He tried to move his arm, but the vines were holding him completely still. He twisted his wrist and the machete twirled uselessly in the air. He couldn't bend his hand in a way to touch the blade to any vine. He sucked in a breath and tried yanking his arm down as hard as he could in a strong, sudden motion.
His elbow bent about an inch but before he could try striking with the knife, the plant retaliated, pulling his arm straight again and stroking a tickly feeler into the crook of his elbow. Clint cracked and a little giggling laugh escaped him. "Hee-haahahaaa! Oh, damnit, no!"
His laughter excited the plant and it writhed more energetically in that spot. Why was the inside of his elbow so damned sensitive? It made his arm twitch and he couldn't help but squirm. "Noo-hoo-hoo, damnit, damnit!"
That's when Clint began to hear footsteps in the jungle. His gut dropped at the thought of Charlotte returning to see him squirming and giggling helplessly again. He couldn't let her have that satisfaction!
But the voice he heard wasn't Charlotte. "Hello? Clint? Is that you?" It was Maggie!
Maggie was Charlotte's research assistant, a younger girl, 19 years old. She was a short and petite thing, with a slightly pear shaped figure, light mossy green eyes, and an adorable blonde bob haircut that curled at her cheeks. Clint couldn't stand the idea of her seeing him like this too!
As much as part of him wanted to yell to her for help, his remaining scraps of pride made him instead call out, "N-no-hoo! Don't- ah-ah come any closer! J-just go back to ca-ha-hamp!" Oh, damn it. That snuffling vine crawling down his arm was really giving him a hard time. He couldn't keep the laughter out of his voice, no matter how hard he tried to sound authoritative and serious. And when that caterpillar crawler reached his armpit, he let out a squeal, despite his best efforts to stop himself. "Hee-eee!!"
Clint's not very convincing words did nothing to dissuade the girl. And his laughs drew her closer like a moth to a lantern. Maggie stepped quicker through the trees and gasped when she saw Clint there on the ground.
His arm was stretched up overhead, hand grasping a useless, twitching machete. He was giggling and squirming as vines crawled down his arm and stroked and felt deep into the hollow of his exposed armpit. The rest of his naked body was pinned down under wriggling vines.
The girl's mouth flew open and blush bloomed on her cheeks. "Oh my goodness! Clint, are you naked?!"
"Aaah-haahahaha! Oh, son of a— F-ff—" Somehow, it didn't seem right to curse in front of this younger woman. Even if Clint couldn't keep from laughing, he had to try to keep from swearing! "M-Maggie, you sh-should have walked awaa-haay. Aahahaa!! I di-hidn't w-want you to see-hee-hee this-haahaa!"
Her green eyes rolled down over his body and back up to his face. Maggie hid her mouth behind her hands. "Oh. Hee-hee… Is it tickling you, Clint?"
The question made his stomach twist with new embarrassment. As if being caught in this situation wasn't bad enough! His face burned with blush. In as gruff a tone as he could manage, he answered, "Just g-get me oo-hoo--out of this!"
The plant had learned quite a bit about Clint's body through the two lengthy tickling sessions from yesterday. It knew that he had ticklish little spots everywhere, with the sweat it loved. Vines twisted around his other wrist and in an undulation of greenery, they began to lift his other arm up too to expose the other armpit.
Maggie was grinning behind her hands. It was obvious in her rounded cheeks. "But I want to see what happens next!"
"Damn it to hell, Maggie!" Clint roared. Well, so much for not cursing in front of the younger lady. "I'm not fucking around with you right now!"
A frown appeared on Maggie's face, pouting out her lower lip. "Oh, that's rude of you, Clint. It doesn't make me want to help you at all."
Both of Clint's arms were trapped above his head again. Effortlessly, the vines pried his fingers from the handle of his knife and then took the blade away… His only way of trying to free himself. "Oh, damn it! Come on, now!"
Then, the plants shifted, lifting Clint up from the ground. His heart jumped and began racing as he realized the plant was positioning him into that inverted Y again. He tried with all his might to keep his legs together, to protect some of his dignity in front of this young lady, but there was nothing he could do. The vines were alarmingly strong. They pulled his shivering legs wide apart, leaving his genitals dangling.
Maggie covered up her mouth with both hands and flush came back to her cheeks, but her mossy eyes were staring right down at Clint's exposed penis. "Oh my gosh."
The vines were crawling lightly and snuffling into both of his armpits again. It was just light teasing, compared to the deeper torments Clint knew the plant could put him through. But it was enough to make him squirm and giggle against his will. "Ahh-heee-hee-hooo ohhh-hoo! M-Maggie, I'm sorry! Okay-okay-haahaa! I'm sorry and you gotta get mee-heee out of this!"
The girl was smiling again. "Oh, you're so ticklish, aren't you? That's so cute!" She reached out to poke her fingers at the man's waist.
He jumped and yelped out laughs. "Ah-HEE! Hee-hee, Maggie, stoppit! Stop it!"
Of course, the young lady couldn't resist, now that she saw what she could do. With a devious smile, she reached out with two hands to skitter her fingernails up and down his ribs.
"Ah-HOOO-HOOO NOOOO-HOOO!" Clint rocked his head back and laughed loudly to the trees. If the plant wasn't holding him, Clint knew he could stop the girl easily. She had to be half his size. It drove him nuts to think that a little woman could do so much damage just with tickling fingers.
Maggie giggled joyfully at his reaction. "Tickle, tickle, tickle! Oh my gosh, this is fun! Charlotte was right!"
Through his involuntary laughter, Clint choked, "Char-harr-harlotte?!"
The girl put on a mockingly deep voice and repeated, "Char harr harr harr!" Then she giggled, "Heehee! Yes, she told me all about her idea to trick you into getting captured by the plant so we could make you into our little tickle experiment!"
Maggie's fingers went lower and began pinching Clint's hips. He howled louder and tried to buck the girl off. Her hands were so close to his wide-open legs, his naked and helpless genitals. The sensations seemed to shoot directly into his penis, beginning to make it stand up.
"HOOO-OOOH-AAH-HAAA! M-MAA-HAAAGGIE! Noo-hooo-hoo, not thaa-haaat!" he cried out.
Once more, the reaction only encouraged Maggie to continue her teasing. "Oh no, is that a touchy spot? Tickle-tickle-tickle!" She pinched relentlessly and wiggled her fingernails at his hips and the creases of his legs. It was maddening, sending shocks of ticklishness through the nerves in his legs, deep into his gut, and worst of all, to his free-hanging genitals.
Clint was defenseless to her fingers. Try as he might, he couldn't pull free. He could only twitch and buck and throw his head back and laugh. "MAA-HAAAGGIE EE-HAAA HAAH! Y-You g-gotta HAAA-HAAAH! G-gotta STOP!!"
Utterly gleeful, she answered, "Ohhh, not a chance, you ticklish dope!"
A new bout of tickle torment began, with Clint's naked and exposed body spread out for the young woman's fingers to explore. Maggie teased and tested all around those ultra-sensitive hip joints, with lighter pressure and harder pressure, to see what got him squealing and laughing the loudest. And she raked and scribbled her nails repeatedly up and down his thighs. She traced horrible swirls behind his knees and pinched at his kneecaps, then tickled her fingers back up to his hips. All the while, curious little vines were stroking and poking around in the hollows of his armpits, driving him mad.
It went on for at least ten, fifteen minutes, maybe longer. Clint was wild with laughter, straining against the vines. He had had enough already and couldn't stand the idea of going through more, now with yet another young woman to laugh at him and tease him even further!
But too bad for Clint, there was nothing he could do but struggle and laugh.
And what was worse … he could see Charlotte had returned. She was walking towards them. And she was grinning that awful, evil, devilishly cute grin of hers.
"Maggie!" Charlotte called out cheerfully. "I see you found my tickle experiment! Are you having fun with him?"
"Heehee! Oh, yes! Very much!" Finally, Maggie's hands relented. She took a moment then to shoo the tickling vines out of his armpits, bringing Clint a wave of relief, as well as anger. It wasn't fair that the vines that tormented him so damned much were that simple for Maggie to just bat away!
Clint sucked deep breaths and tried to regain his senses. "What the HELL, Charlotte!" he bellowed, with as much bravado as he could muster. "You two need to let me go RIGHT NOW!"
The sight of this angry, helpless, completely naked man just sent Charlotte into a little fit of laughter. "Hahaha! Oh my goodness, Clint! Clint, listen to you! Hahaha! Do you still not understand what's happening? You're not getting out of this. Oh, no, no. Not for anything."
Charlotte took a little wooden box out from her camping gear. She brought it forward and opened it to reveal a shaving kit with a shiny metal razor, glinting in the sun.
Clint's face screwed up when he saw it and he shot a glare at Charlotte. "What the hell is this for? You don't like my stubble?"
Oh, he did not like that smirk on her face at all. "Mm. No, the stubble can stay." She reached up to touch his chin with her hand, then trailed the same hand down his chest. "But the rest, no, no. That has to go. You're already so ticklish…" She scribbled her nails at his right ribs for just a second, which made Clint jump and giggle despite himself. She stopped and continued, "But your skin will be even more sensitive without that manly hair in the way."
Meanwhile, Maggie had the mug with the circular soap bar inside. She had put in a little bit of water and now she was whipping up a good lather with the brush. Before Clint knew what to say, Maggie was brushing foamy soap into one of his armpits. Even though she wasn't trying to tickle him, damn it, it felt ticklish. Clint found himself chuckling and squirming while the young woman began to paint him over with lather.
"Oh-ho-ho. Damn it, don't do-oo that!" he said. Of course, his demands fell on deaf ears. "I'm going too-hoo-hoo!! To look stupid with-haahaa-with my hair shaved off!"
"You already look stupid," Charlotte happily informed him as she withdrew the razor from the kit and began to scrape away the hair and soap in his armpit. Her work was careful and precise, methodical. Perhaps Clint wasn't the first man the two women had shaved bare. "I love big, stupid, ticklish men. And you're one of the stupidest I've ever met. Not to mention one of the most ticklish! Mm, I can't wait to see how much more sensitive you feel without body hair…"
The plant's hundreds of nibbling mouths seemed to love the honey on his skin even more than his sweat and oil, though the vigorous tickling sure made him produce more oil and sweat too for the maddeningly tickly tongues to lap up.
The tickling was incessant, intense, and unabashedly invasive. Plants are not shy. The sensations were enormous and absolutely unbearable, but poor Clint had to bear it anyway. There was no escape from his captivity and thanks to the nectar, he was wide awake, full of writhing energy, and unable to fully reach orgasm for anything.
Nibble, nibble, nibble, the little mouths tickled like hell deep in the hollows of his armpits. Clint's arms trembled and strained fruitlessly, unable to lower down evan an inch to protect his vulnerable underarms. Writhing vines played mercilessly up and down his ribs and sides, stroking and squeezing. They slithered and swirled tauntingly along his belly. The hellish tongues lapped wickedly at each of his nipples, which alone would have driven him to wild hysteria. But no. There was so much more to feel! And he had to endure every moment of it.
More of those teasing mouths munched and grazed along his waist. His highly-sensitive navel had its own tormentor, which whirled and twirled a thin, tireless butterfly tongue inside and around. All down his legs were energetic feelers, stroking and tormenting. His knees were squeezed and stroked and the pits of his knees were tickled hellishly by little nibblers and flittering leaves.
His poor, ultra-ticklish feet! Again, their torture alone would have been more than enough to break him. And Clint was well beyond broken by the inescapable situation he found himself in. Each toe was held by its own thin vine, splaying them wide apart. Crawlers wriggled between each toe, back and forth, alternating with swirling feather-leaves and those damnably evil nibbling buds with their flitting tongues. His arches were stroked and scribbled up and down, up and down, again and again. Clint's legs shivered and his toes twitched helplessly, completely defenseless to the constantly tickling vines.
Worst of all was the tickling on his erect cock and balls. Clint felt this more vibrantly and acutely than all of the other tickling torture. Little spring-tongues flitted and licked up and down his hard shaft, alternating with agonizing little nibbles and grazes from the buds. His balls were stroked and teased into madness with incredibly-tickly leaves and wriggling vines from every angle. A caterpillar tendril was wriggling around in his ass, teasing him effectively from the inside. Just like before, the head of his cock was sealed in its own tickling bud, with a horrific spring tongue flickering down deep into his cum-hole again and again.
For hours, it went on. His skin wouldn't tire or numb and just kept feeling every moment this unbearable punishment. Whenever Clint began to feel suffocated, on the verge of passing out, the tickling lightened just enough for him to draw deep breaths between his desperate pleas and helpless laughs. He was blinded to everything but the powerful, completely relentless tickling all over his naked, overtaxed body. Nothing else existed but his tortured nerves, blazing with unstoppable tickling hell.
Charlotte was overjoyed as she watched the man struggle and wail and laugh. It was just as enjoyable as before - more so, as she had an up close view of it all now. She took photograph after photograph of the vines roving vigorously over his body, several closeups of his twisted, tear-stained face, grinning and grimacing both at once. And she took many more closeups of his quivering cock, as it was mercilessly tickled and teased.
Every one of his cries and laughs excited her. The way he squirmed so helplessly got her blood pumping faster.
After a while, Charlotte couldn't help but unbutton the waist of her skirt so she could push her hand down into her underpants and touch herself. Her brilliant blue eyes were locked on Clint as she stroked herself with two fingers.
She watched him closely and she waited patiently until it became apparent that the hold of the nectar was beginning to falter. There was a certain sharpness in Clint's gasps and a renewed twitching of his hips that cued her that the man was finally, finally going to reach that orgasm he'd been on the edge of for hours now.
Clint's deranged laughter pitched up higher, into a loud, long, shrieking wail of ticklishness and pleasure as both sensations amplified the other together. Clint was over the moon, wild with euphoria and excessively over-tickled nerves. Semen pumped out of him, sucked into the greedy mouth of the plant on his cock and it kept licking its spring tongue down into him as he came.
The vines kept cruelly tickling him all over throughout and brought him to a whole new level of agony and bliss.
As Clint finally climaxed, Charlotte let herself break too. Waves of pleasure went through her as Clint choked on his laughs and strangled cries. She moaned deeply, "Oohhh… ohhhh…."
For minutes, Clint quaked and bucked until finally, finally, his cum ran out and the bud on his penis lapped up the last of it. The vines slowed their strokes and sluggishly began to withdraw.
Poor Clint was so exhausted from the experience that he passed out immediately, before the light tickles of the vines even fully ceased. He was heavy and completely limp, like a naked, man-sized doll dangling from the vines. Slowly, the plant lowered his slumbering body to a pillow of vines on the ground. As Clint's body reached the forest floor, several thick vines spread over him back and forth, like straps to hold him securely in place.
Charlotte was breathless from her own waves of orgasm, red-cheeked with satisfaction. She smiled at the sight of the man still trapped in the vines on the jungle floor. "Oh, she's not letting you go for anything now," she said softly to herself. "Mmm. And neither will I. So much more research to be done."
The sun was going down now and Charlotte had her tent all ready. Humming wistfully to herself, she crawled inside to bed down until morning.
As the darkness grew, a few nocturnal creatures emerged - harmless things, birds and insects. A few such insects found themselves crawling on the naked skin of a man dead-asleep on the ground, snugly secured by vines. Clint was far, far too exhausted to wake from his heavy slumber, but he smiled and giggled softly in his sleep. Even in his dreams, he'd be tickled.
Clint's sleep was good and long and blissfully restful. It was the best night's sleep he'd had in longer than he could remember. When his eyes finally opened again, it was daylight. He tried to roll over, but found he couldn't move. Thick vines were pinning him down to the jungle floor, across his chest and legs. His arms were down at his sides.
"Mmpht. Not a dream," he grumbled, trying not to sound too concerned even though he was just talking to himself. "Damn it."
It was quiet. Very quiet. Clint froze for a moment, then lifted his head as high as he could, eyes scanning his surroundings. There was Charlotte's camp, her camera, her notes. There was smoke from a recently extinguished fire. But there was no Charlotte in sight.
Maybe she was gone. Maybe this was his chance to try to escape before … Clint shuddered at the memory. He never thought he could be so completely, thoroughly destroyed just through tickling. The idea of it happening all over again was just too much to think about. No, he had to focus on getting out of this.
That's when he saw it - his machete was still lying there on the ground. It looked like it was just a few feet away! If he could worm his arm free, he could reach out and grab it!
Clint bit his lower lip in concentration and he began to squirm, trying to loosen the vines that held him. But when he did, there was a worrying shiver through the vines and a worryingly familiar-sounding rattle of leaves around him. He sucked in a gasp and froze in place again.
"No. Damnit…" If he moved too much, it would wake the plant. He had to be delicate. He had to be careful! In all honesty, these two words were not descriptors of his personality. At all.
The man's eyebrows pinned down and his face set into a serious expression. As slowly as he could, he began to slant his shoulders and creep one arm up. The plants shifted slightly. He froze again.
He waited. He inched just a little more…
Another shiver. He froze again. He waited… and he slowly started to slide his arm out from under the vines. A few more times, Clint stopped and started, hyper-aware of the motions of the plant. Until finally, about fifteen minutes into this tedious process, his right arm slid free. Now all he had to do was stretch to reach the handle.
He was on his back and the knife was a few feet away almost directly overhead. Clint hastily reached his arm up… too hastily. Just as his hand clasped around the handle of the machete, a quick vine whipped out and wound itself around his wrist, trapping his arm stretched up overhead.
"Damnit, no!" he roared, squirming with agitation. But the more he squirmed, the more the vines awoke. They began to slither and snake around him. The sliding of the vines on his naked skin was a light, teasing tickle. He clenched his teeth and tried not to laugh. He tensed his body and tried to stop himself from squirming.
"Be… a man…" he grunted to himself between gritted teeth.
But there was a single caterpillar vine curiously exploring the skin of his outstretched arm. It was tickling lightly along his forearm, snuffling and testing. Clint's body shivered as he struggled not to react. He couldn't let this happen all over again. Not again. He was a grown man. A strong and capable man! He had been sent to this jungle to protect the team of female scientists. He had to try to block it out so he could chop his way free!
"Hhh—" He tried to move his arm, but the vines were holding him completely still. He twisted his wrist and the machete twirled uselessly in the air. He couldn't bend his hand in a way to touch the blade to any vine. He sucked in a breath and tried yanking his arm down as hard as he could in a strong, sudden motion.
His elbow bent about an inch but before he could try striking with the knife, the plant retaliated, pulling his arm straight again and stroking a tickly feeler into the crook of his elbow. Clint cracked and a little giggling laugh escaped him. "Hee-haahahaaa! Oh, damnit, no!"
His laughter excited the plant and it writhed more energetically in that spot. Why was the inside of his elbow so damned sensitive? It made his arm twitch and he couldn't help but squirm. "Noo-hoo-hoo, damnit, damnit!"
That's when Clint began to hear footsteps in the jungle. His gut dropped at the thought of Charlotte returning to see him squirming and giggling helplessly again. He couldn't let her have that satisfaction!
But the voice he heard wasn't Charlotte. "Hello? Clint? Is that you?" It was Maggie!
Maggie was Charlotte's research assistant, a younger girl, 19 years old. She was a short and petite thing, with a slightly pear shaped figure, light mossy green eyes, and an adorable blonde bob haircut that curled at her cheeks. Clint couldn't stand the idea of her seeing him like this too!
As much as part of him wanted to yell to her for help, his remaining scraps of pride made him instead call out, "N-no-hoo! Don't- ah-ah come any closer! J-just go back to ca-ha-hamp!" Oh, damn it. That snuffling vine crawling down his arm was really giving him a hard time. He couldn't keep the laughter out of his voice, no matter how hard he tried to sound authoritative and serious. And when that caterpillar crawler reached his armpit, he let out a squeal, despite his best efforts to stop himself. "Hee-eee!!"
Clint's not very convincing words did nothing to dissuade the girl. And his laughs drew her closer like a moth to a lantern. Maggie stepped quicker through the trees and gasped when she saw Clint there on the ground.
His arm was stretched up overhead, hand grasping a useless, twitching machete. He was giggling and squirming as vines crawled down his arm and stroked and felt deep into the hollow of his exposed armpit. The rest of his naked body was pinned down under wriggling vines.
The girl's mouth flew open and blush bloomed on her cheeks. "Oh my goodness! Clint, are you naked?!"
"Aaah-haahahaha! Oh, son of a— F-ff—" Somehow, it didn't seem right to curse in front of this younger woman. Even if Clint couldn't keep from laughing, he had to try to keep from swearing! "M-Maggie, you sh-should have walked awaa-haay. Aahahaa!! I di-hidn't w-want you to see-hee-hee this-haahaa!"
Her green eyes rolled down over his body and back up to his face. Maggie hid her mouth behind her hands. "Oh. Hee-hee… Is it tickling you, Clint?"
The question made his stomach twist with new embarrassment. As if being caught in this situation wasn't bad enough! His face burned with blush. In as gruff a tone as he could manage, he answered, "Just g-get me oo-hoo--out of this!"
The plant had learned quite a bit about Clint's body through the two lengthy tickling sessions from yesterday. It knew that he had ticklish little spots everywhere, with the sweat it loved. Vines twisted around his other wrist and in an undulation of greenery, they began to lift his other arm up too to expose the other armpit.
Maggie was grinning behind her hands. It was obvious in her rounded cheeks. "But I want to see what happens next!"
"Damn it to hell, Maggie!" Clint roared. Well, so much for not cursing in front of the younger lady. "I'm not fucking around with you right now!"
A frown appeared on Maggie's face, pouting out her lower lip. "Oh, that's rude of you, Clint. It doesn't make me want to help you at all."
Both of Clint's arms were trapped above his head again. Effortlessly, the vines pried his fingers from the handle of his knife and then took the blade away… His only way of trying to free himself. "Oh, damn it! Come on, now!"
Then, the plants shifted, lifting Clint up from the ground. His heart jumped and began racing as he realized the plant was positioning him into that inverted Y again. He tried with all his might to keep his legs together, to protect some of his dignity in front of this young lady, but there was nothing he could do. The vines were alarmingly strong. They pulled his shivering legs wide apart, leaving his genitals dangling.
Maggie covered up her mouth with both hands and flush came back to her cheeks, but her mossy eyes were staring right down at Clint's exposed penis. "Oh my gosh."
The vines were crawling lightly and snuffling into both of his armpits again. It was just light teasing, compared to the deeper torments Clint knew the plant could put him through. But it was enough to make him squirm and giggle against his will. "Ahh-heee-hee-hooo ohhh-hoo! M-Maggie, I'm sorry! Okay-okay-haahaa! I'm sorry and you gotta get mee-heee out of this!"
The girl was smiling again. "Oh, you're so ticklish, aren't you? That's so cute!" She reached out to poke her fingers at the man's waist.
He jumped and yelped out laughs. "Ah-HEE! Hee-hee, Maggie, stoppit! Stop it!"
Of course, the young lady couldn't resist, now that she saw what she could do. With a devious smile, she reached out with two hands to skitter her fingernails up and down his ribs.
"Ah-HOOO-HOOO NOOOO-HOOO!" Clint rocked his head back and laughed loudly to the trees. If the plant wasn't holding him, Clint knew he could stop the girl easily. She had to be half his size. It drove him nuts to think that a little woman could do so much damage just with tickling fingers.
Maggie giggled joyfully at his reaction. "Tickle, tickle, tickle! Oh my gosh, this is fun! Charlotte was right!"
Through his involuntary laughter, Clint choked, "Char-harr-harlotte?!"
The girl put on a mockingly deep voice and repeated, "Char harr harr harr!" Then she giggled, "Heehee! Yes, she told me all about her idea to trick you into getting captured by the plant so we could make you into our little tickle experiment!"
Maggie's fingers went lower and began pinching Clint's hips. He howled louder and tried to buck the girl off. Her hands were so close to his wide-open legs, his naked and helpless genitals. The sensations seemed to shoot directly into his penis, beginning to make it stand up.
"HOOO-OOOH-AAH-HAAA! M-MAA-HAAAGGIE! Noo-hooo-hoo, not thaa-haaat!" he cried out.
Once more, the reaction only encouraged Maggie to continue her teasing. "Oh no, is that a touchy spot? Tickle-tickle-tickle!" She pinched relentlessly and wiggled her fingernails at his hips and the creases of his legs. It was maddening, sending shocks of ticklishness through the nerves in his legs, deep into his gut, and worst of all, to his free-hanging genitals.
Clint was defenseless to her fingers. Try as he might, he couldn't pull free. He could only twitch and buck and throw his head back and laugh. "MAA-HAAAGGIE EE-HAAA HAAH! Y-You g-gotta HAAA-HAAAH! G-gotta STOP!!"
Utterly gleeful, she answered, "Ohhh, not a chance, you ticklish dope!"
A new bout of tickle torment began, with Clint's naked and exposed body spread out for the young woman's fingers to explore. Maggie teased and tested all around those ultra-sensitive hip joints, with lighter pressure and harder pressure, to see what got him squealing and laughing the loudest. And she raked and scribbled her nails repeatedly up and down his thighs. She traced horrible swirls behind his knees and pinched at his kneecaps, then tickled her fingers back up to his hips. All the while, curious little vines were stroking and poking around in the hollows of his armpits, driving him mad.
It went on for at least ten, fifteen minutes, maybe longer. Clint was wild with laughter, straining against the vines. He had had enough already and couldn't stand the idea of going through more, now with yet another young woman to laugh at him and tease him even further!
But too bad for Clint, there was nothing he could do but struggle and laugh.
And what was worse … he could see Charlotte had returned. She was walking towards them. And she was grinning that awful, evil, devilishly cute grin of hers.
"Maggie!" Charlotte called out cheerfully. "I see you found my tickle experiment! Are you having fun with him?"
"Heehee! Oh, yes! Very much!" Finally, Maggie's hands relented. She took a moment then to shoo the tickling vines out of his armpits, bringing Clint a wave of relief, as well as anger. It wasn't fair that the vines that tormented him so damned much were that simple for Maggie to just bat away!
Clint sucked deep breaths and tried to regain his senses. "What the HELL, Charlotte!" he bellowed, with as much bravado as he could muster. "You two need to let me go RIGHT NOW!"
The sight of this angry, helpless, completely naked man just sent Charlotte into a little fit of laughter. "Hahaha! Oh my goodness, Clint! Clint, listen to you! Hahaha! Do you still not understand what's happening? You're not getting out of this. Oh, no, no. Not for anything."
Charlotte took a little wooden box out from her camping gear. She brought it forward and opened it to reveal a shaving kit with a shiny metal razor, glinting in the sun.
Clint's face screwed up when he saw it and he shot a glare at Charlotte. "What the hell is this for? You don't like my stubble?"
Oh, he did not like that smirk on her face at all. "Mm. No, the stubble can stay." She reached up to touch his chin with her hand, then trailed the same hand down his chest. "But the rest, no, no. That has to go. You're already so ticklish…" She scribbled her nails at his right ribs for just a second, which made Clint jump and giggle despite himself. She stopped and continued, "But your skin will be even more sensitive without that manly hair in the way."
Meanwhile, Maggie had the mug with the circular soap bar inside. She had put in a little bit of water and now she was whipping up a good lather with the brush. Before Clint knew what to say, Maggie was brushing foamy soap into one of his armpits. Even though she wasn't trying to tickle him, damn it, it felt ticklish. Clint found himself chuckling and squirming while the young woman began to paint him over with lather.
"Oh-ho-ho. Damn it, don't do-oo that!" he said. Of course, his demands fell on deaf ears. "I'm going too-hoo-hoo!! To look stupid with-haahaa-with my hair shaved off!"
"You already look stupid," Charlotte happily informed him as she withdrew the razor from the kit and began to scrape away the hair and soap in his armpit. Her work was careful and precise, methodical. Perhaps Clint wasn't the first man the two women had shaved bare. "I love big, stupid, ticklish men. And you're one of the stupidest I've ever met. Not to mention one of the most ticklish! Mm, I can't wait to see how much more sensitive you feel without body hair…"
