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I tapped the Enter icon with the finger of my state-of-the-art, twelve sensor glove, watching the icon that twirled like a diamond in front of my eyes inside my VR headset disappear with a quirky sound. My newly designed avatar dropped into Zurelandia, and immediately, the sensations of the world I'd created came to life around my body. My avatar architecture was a study in precision, using the standard version of software my customers would one day utilize as Level 1 and 2 pro users... once my concept was pitched and sold, that is. My clothing was light, my body was new. I looked myself over, and grinned at the realism of the virtual world I'd created. This wasn't my first time exploring it, or even entering it, but it was the final time I planned to test it before marketing. A final walk through.
I was excited, but mostly relieved. The amount of work it took to bring Zurelandia to life, enduring sleepless nights, the steady diet of ramen noodles. It was a good thing I'd never had a girlfriend, or I'd hardly have had the time or patience. My avatar made a salute gesture, as I considered all my nerdy brothers and sisters across the globe who were about to experience the ultimate alternative to real life. I looked around. Zurelandia was bright and sunny for twelve hours, dark and mysterious for the other twelve, just like the real world. It depended on where you were. Some places, I'd designed with almost constant storms, tornadoes and lightning with thunder that would literally make a full-body haptic suit tremble.
I looked down. My bare feet were just resting atop soft soil, but not burying into it. I weighed almost nothing. In Zurelandia, gravity was sound, but weight was not. As I walked, I once again examined with a developer's eye, the way my avatar's body reacted to sensations. I had designed this world with the idea of experience without the slow reaction of nerves and cortexes to dull the awareness. Zurelandia sent all touches, smells, tastes and audible sounds straight to the brain via my patented VR headset so that the experience of the world would be faster than even our own body could carry it.
What I didn't count on was the impressions being as strong as they were. It didn't dawn on me that our bodies seemed to dull the responses to our senses through our crude flesh, and when I discovered that simply touching a blade of grass in Zurelandia felt so much more real than touching grass in the real world, I almost heard the “cha-ching!” of profits I'd be making soon.
I brushed my hand through nearby stalks of feathery looking grass and snickered. My real hands weren't ticklish at all, but my avatar's hands felt every frond of feathery softness. I started walking, breathing the cleanest digital air into my avatar's lungs deeply. My feet never met a single burr or thorn. I designed some defenses in Zurelandia, but not enough to cause much pain. My customers' avatars would never feel much pain at all, even if they were mauled in challenges or fell off a cliff. I also didn't fear for my own avatar's life. However, that didn't mean I couldn't find danger or get hurt or tired. In Zurelandia, the program was designed to heal the body instantly. That included all breaks, cuts or deathly introductions. Even exhaustion was instantly cured and the body was restored to absolute health and readiness.
My world wasn't designed to be a make or break. I wanted people to experience without the fear of getting hurt. Want to go mountain bike riding into a volcano? Do it! Ever dreamed of bungee jumping off a wind generator without a cord? Now's your chance! Ever thought of skydiving through a hurricane? Get on board!
I gazed at the exotic types of flora and fauna, smiling stupidly at how brilliantly it all worked out. Zurelandia was created with a base geography in mind, then my patented algorithms for evolution of plants and animals did the rest. I planted the seeds into the program, so to speak, and they took off! Jungles of unimaginable trees and meadows of mind-bending flowers were just the scratch on the surface of what I witnessed as I strolled through. And then there were the creatures which inhabited my virtual world! All sizes and shapes, types and character, emotional and cold, descriptions of some which I could never even describe. They all flourished upon each other in an interesting and fully sustainable E-cosystem. I strolled through the program for a couple of days, coming upon impossibly tall waterfalls that I jumped from, gargantuan mountain ranges I could see every detail of, and beautiful creatures of every imaginable style that interacted with me curiously.
I felt no need to sleep, even after running across a high, razor thin ridge of granite for several miles. The program immediately healed any exhaustion my avatar sustained. Another thing though, was that I had all the time in the world to play! Zurelandia's time dilation was configured so that my customers could take an actual vacation in just minutes. One minute in real time equaled one month in Zurelandia. What? That college professor got you down and you need some time to think? You spent a full day laying asphalt in the middle of August with an asshole foreman breathing down your neck? Log into Zurelandia and live on the beach with your real world long-distance fling laying next to a turquoise sea with a cool drink in your hand for a year if you want to, then log off in time for dinner.
When I'd chosen the timeframe for this final test, I set it for twelve minutes, which is twelve months in Zurelandia. I had a full year to explore my world one more time before it would be inundated with avatars of people worldwide just looking for an escape. I breathed again, deeply, looking up at one of the full moons. The landscape was surreal, dark but... illuminated. I could see for miles with my keen sight. I could see small creatures on the distant mountain slopes. The cool air filled my virtual lungs and I felt the caress of current across my lung tissue. The air smelled slightly salty. There was a sea nearby, I was aware. The aroma was acute, but not strong enough to be unpleasant. It was as if I were next to the sea in the real world but... ten times more “real”.
I laughed. I was going to be so fucking rich.
I started thinking, as I often do, about possible sexual fantasies being played out in this world. It would happen, I knew from the start it would. People were people after all, and Rule 34 would always be followed. I wasn't naive enough to think it would be this innocent, even a day after it went public. There was a setting I hadn't flipped on yet that would allow my customers to consent mutually, then “enter” a darker Zurelandia realm, which was more of a parallel world and engage each other in whatever they wanted to privately. I couldn't allow sex, casual or otherwise, to be displayed right in front of everyone else, especially when this world became populated. I pictured my own foot fetish and imagined how it would look if I was indulging in something like that as people walked by staring at me. No way, man. It would all be completely private, stored in short term memory onto their browsers only and deleted (if the user chose) once the “session” was over and they re-entered the main world again. That setting would be open to only those users who were eighteen and over, obviously.
As I continued to explore the vast virtual world of Zurelandia, the ever present twelve hour (exactly) sunlight beat down upon my skin, warming my muscles and invigorating my impossibly sharp senses. The air was crisp, though technically I didn't need to breathe. As I entered a vast meadow, it was filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers that I saw everywhere in pools of unimaginably vivid color, some of which didn't exist in the real world. The scents touched my brain in real time through the headset and destroyed any notion that I would ever want to “awaken” again. I was surrounded nearly constantly by the distant calls of the craziest looking birds I'd ever seen and heard.
My avatar moved instantly upon my thought and decision, feeling the gentle breeze rustle my hair and caress my skin. My stroll lead me across the field of flowers and into a lush slope of short grasses, surrounded by large trees of every possible look, and a clear gentle brook that babbled and chattered its way through the heart of the clearing. I drank some of the water, just for the experience of it, and watched long fish with multiple fins flicker by. The grass beneath my feet was soft and springy, and I felt a sense of peace wash over me as I paced along the stream through the serene landscape.
As I wandered deeper into the woody area, my eyes fell upon a peculiarly magnificent tree, unlike any I'd seen before. At first, I mistook it for a real world willow, but then I'd decided that of all the flora I'd seen yet, it was possibly the strangest. Its trunk was slender and oddly looked more like a woman's sensual thigh, than wood and bark. As my eyes wandered upward and out, I fell witness to hundreds of long, thin, squiggly branches that stretched like corkscrew curls of soft flesh in every direction. The branches were pinkish-peach skin tone like the tree's trunk, and were... I looked more closely in awe, because I had to be mistaken... no, I wasn't. Each branch was adorned at the very tip with a beautiful, delicate foot, each perfectly formed and tantalizingly soft. And each foot was tipped with lovely, tapered toes which wiggled and flexed every now and then of their own accord.
Each toe had carefully pedicured nails painted every color in existence. My foot fetish clicked on like a light switch, my mind fully connected to my avatar, and I felt my digital heart start beating faster. The tree appeared to be still, as if waiting for something to stir her branches. A soft breeze whirred through the meadow and I saw the tree sway slightly as the subtle scent of... oh God, feet... swept around me. I closed my eyes, swallowing. As someone with a thing for feet, it was the sexiest scent I could imagine. And it was so hyper-realistic, I couldn't deny it. My body positively trembled with desire suddenly.
I could not help but feel drawn to the tree, my curiosity piqued by the sight. I took a step closer, and then another, my eyes fixed on the tree as I tried to make sense of this strange and wondrous sight. As I drew near, the tree swayed toward me slightly without a breeze propelling it. I stopped just short of the nearest pretty foot and its toes flexed in my direction. Its sole rose into my view and I nearly stopped breathing. It was so soft and lovely. I had to touch it. I lifted a single finger and was nearly a millimeter from the pliant flesh of her arch when I heard the tree actually speak.
“Hello sweetie.” a melodious woman's voice gently murmured so softly across the air, I almost didn't hear it at all. I immediately yanked my finger away shamefully. The voice came from the direction of the tree's trunk. “My name is Phooie! Go ahead, touch my foot. It's alright. I love it when my feet are touched.”
The voice giggled sensually, then kept giggling through a slight grunt, as if forced. I paid no attention. My fingers rose again and I touched the toes of the foot at the end of the long, swinging branch. The toes curled around my index finger. They were so soft. I swallowed with the feeling of a dry mouth, and slid my thumb along her arch. The foot twitched and stroked my palm. The tree's giggling subsided and she seemed to inhale as if recovering from a joke.
“You like it?” she asked.
“Y-yes.” I whispered, then found my voice. “It's very beautiful.”
“It smells nice, too.” she cooed. “Try it.”
“I... really?” I asked, incredulous. “You want me to...?”
The tree was snickering again as if she were in on a joke I didn't get. “Go on.” she encouraged through a gasp, then another snicker.
I leaned in. The instant my nose touched her big toe, a flurry of feet darted at me with astonishing speed. I was captured and clutched by looping branches so fast, I couldn't react, and yanked from the ground. Hollering out in fright, my body was hoisted through the air directly at the soft looking trunk of the tree. My arms were pulled around her trunk behind me by corkscrew curled flesh and my lower legs were likewise wound with the iron grip of her branches. My back was pulled against the trunk and I felt firm muscle move under soft skin behind me.
I looked around under the tree's canopy, trying to find a weapon of some sort, figuring out a way to get out of this predicament. I knew I couldn't be hurt, but I wasn't interested in being a prisoner either. The only thing around me I could find nearby was a rather widespread, crimson colored, broad-leafed plant that resembled a philodendron in the real world. The plant was sparse in some places, massively bushy in others and I could see a few of the lower hanging feet having been pulled down into the plant as if it had grown larger in size around them. As I peered closer, I saw the plant's leaves... moving.
The tree kept giggling as if she'd just heard the funniest joke ever, and couldn't get it out of her mind.
I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The plant's leaves were as wide as my hand, silkily bare in the centers, fuzzily framed with microfiliment vibrating hair around the edges. But the tips of each leaf appeared to have a hard, smoothly edged fingernail-like end that dragged swiftly in places on the foot it had captured. The soft pad slid along the foot in other places. And there were several leaves doing this to each foot it had captured and pulled. The toes of each of the bound feet were pulled back and outward and smaller leaves were between each of them, busily stroking in various ways. I heard the tree's melodious giggling, punctuated by grunts and struggling. The plant was... tickling the tree's feet. I was so astonished, I actually smiled.
“Why is it doing that?” I asked, as the tree was making adjustments to my arms and legs, tightening in places, leveraging me against her trunk in others. My arms were braced and held firmly as my legs were widened and pulled around behind her, then pulled so I couldn't move at all.
“She's a tickle plant.” the tree giggled and yelped as a particularly sensitive spot on one of her many captured feet was touched. “She feeds on the pleasure energy that ticklish skin produces.”
“She feeds on pleasure?” I asked, marveling at my program's evolutionary ingenuity. “A parasitic plant that feeds on pleasure. Interesting. That's not something I...”
I stopped talking, afraid to give away too much. After all, I didn't know if this tree was a friend or foe. I looked back up at the tree. “Wait. Why did you capture me? What are you doing?”
“Securing you, of course.” the tree sighed happily. My neck was wrapped just tight enough to hold me within a thin corkscrew branch, the small foot at the end of which pressed into the side of my head. Another foot, soft as any I'd ever known, pressed gently into the other side of my head, so that I couldn't even twitch. Their toes wiggled against my temples and my cock slid upward in my pants another inch. I realized, with some anxiety, that I was a prisoner of this seemingly pleasant foot tree and couldn't get away.
My heart was racing, but the tree didn't care about that. I started to struggle, but it was too late. All of this happened entirely too quickly for me to fight and soon, I was absolutely motionless. My bare feet were pulled back around the trunk about six inches above the ground. My arms were secured down the sides of the trunk behind me. My head was leaning back on soft flesh and held in place. What parts of me were touching the trunk of the tree, I could feel a warm sap glue into place. Fuck. I darted my eyes around, looking for anything to help release me. My fingers reached out and tried tickling the leg... I mean trunk of the tree. She squealed and two feet pressed my hands against her, where they were promptly glued to her skin.
A beautiful dusky hued foot rose in front of me and dipped its big toe along the tree's trunk, pulling up a small glob of the sap with it. The toe lifted and touched my lips.
“No! Nooo...mppph!” I mppphed as the toe slid along my lips. I felt my mouth seal shut. Breathing rapidly through my nose, I felt the tree murmur lovingly to me.
“Shhh, sweetie.” she cooed. “Relax. I'll take very good care of you.”
I watched as a hundred of the most beautiful feet in existence, real or not, turned in my direction from above and I keened in anticipation. I felt my arousal reach its full potential under my light shorts and, damn... I couldn't stop what was happening. Her branches came alive. The dusky foot lifted and gently pressed across my nose, caressing my face, soft toes tracing the line of my cheeks and chin. The foot's scent was a heady mix of sweat and perfume that sent my senses reeling. The scent bypassed any filtering of my nervous system and touched my brain through my VR headset directly. I feel my cock growing impossibly harder and longer, pressing my avatar's shorts to their limit as I was forced to breathe in the intoxicating aroma. The foot and another that pressed its arch against my nostrils were my whole world now. The foot that caressed my face moved downwards, tracing the line of my jaw before coming to rest on my chest and making room for the innumerable others. As I looked up with my eyes, I saw Phooie's many, many feet closing in around me, forming a gentle cage that held me in place, as if I wasn't already immobilized. The feet that adorned her branches were eagerly stirring, each one out to touch me in some way. Some caressed my exposed skin, while others tickled and teased me through my shirt, sending shivers of pleasure down my spine.
“This is what I live for.” the tree sighed, then snickered as her low hanging feet were still being tickled by the parasitic plant all over the ground. “Enjoying you enjoying me.”
Phooie's trunk began to glow with a soft, pulsing light as the day broke and the night grew across Zurelandia like a shadow. I could feel her body heat behind me, unable to escape the delectable comfort of it, as I was forced to smell the many different scents her feet were capable of. The energy of her bliss seemed to be drawing me in like a magnet, pulling me impossibly closer to her flesh as if to envelop me in her scent and touch. She was forcing me to be close to her, like lovers needing to be inside each other.
Feet of all sizes, toes of every length, arches of every stature curled around my nose and planted themselves across my face, holding there and demanding I endure their heady scents, one by one. I was inevitably forced to simply remain there, absolutely motionless, feel her soft flesh caress my face and experience the smell of each one. It was as if Phooie's entire existence, indeed her very evolution, was to dominate me with this one singular task. My hands worked to stretch and pull, but my arms were held fast as if by iron and my hands were glued to her trunk like the rest of my flesh that touched her. Hours passed and there was no change, and no shortage of delicate, soft feet giving my face and shoulders attention. The smells drove me completely wild and my penis was nearly ripping through my shorts with untouched desire.
As night broke and the sun started to brighten the world again, the constant strong scent of different feet that delightfully attended me were making me delirious. I suddenly felt my left big toe being nudged by something soft. All my senses snapped back to my awareness as I realized that the soft pads of a leaf were dragging their fine, silken surface across it. My mind seized on the forgotten parasitic plant which grew across the ground under the canopy of the tree and my heart stopped.
No. No no no. Please God, no.
I made a muffled noise and Phooie giggled.
“It's alright, my friend.” she says softly. “The plant is just playing with you.”
No! If simple blades of grass can tickle my hands as I strode through them, a plant that was actually designed for tickling would obliterate me. I wiggled, but my body remained motionless. I had to renew my fight, but I couldn't. I lacked the strength to battle against this tree. Phooie laughed at my realization and I was reminded of her feet being tickled with multiple leaves. I couldn't stand that, not with the ramped up sensations this world gave me as an avatar. The leaves' feathery, high vibrating edges now sliding across my toe pads were incredibly tickling, and I shivered with the thought of feeling that over my whole foot.
“She'll map your nerve clusters as she grows larger across your skin.” Phooie's current foot booped my nose and lifted the flesh of her ball to expand my nostrils and take in the scent of her skin more so. “Once she figures your feet out, she'll really start to entertain you! Trust me.”
I trembled, feeling the pads of multiple leaves eventually start exploring my soles, sides and tops of my feet as the plant slowly migrated its growth. My toes were stretched back by tiny vinelike, curling tendrils and I fought anew. No movement. I could only feel. I bellowed through my mouth but my pleas went unheard. Two more pungent feet pressed against my face and my eyes watered from the reaction of their salty scent. An hour later, both my feet from ankle to toes were covered with moving feathery pads, rotating and sliding and I lost my mind. Apparently, the plant was only feeling me out.
My heavy breathing, which only served Phooie's goal more so, was prominent when I suddenly felt the immediate, emergent sensation of thin, swift, nail-like tickling in places where no fingernail should ever, ever touch. I shivered, then trembled, then I started giggling through my nose. The onus of my mistake made itself glaringly conspicuous as my feet were tickled like I've never experienced before in the real world. It was too much. I slammed my eyes shut as giggles rose from my lungs and poured through my nose, only to be replaced with the heavy, wet scent of feet again.
My cock was pulsing and my shorts were starting to get wet with pre-lubrication as it remained untouched and unsatisfied. However, it was also the least of my concerns. The tickle plant on the ground around Phooie's trunk began to stir with vigor, her leaves quivering with excitement as she sensed the level of my ticklishness. It was near midday when I realized the plant was growing upward along my legs. My calves, which were wrapped tightly in Phooie's seemingly not-ticklish branches, were moved slightly wider as the tree anticipated what the tickle plant was doing. I tried shaking my head in protest, but it did no good.
Soft, velvety leaves writhed and explored as they streamed upward slowly, tickling every inch of my flesh they could touch as she grew. It was as if I were being lowered into a tank of tickling fluid, inch by agonizing inch. The touch was constant and overwhelming, sending shivers of pleasure up my spine and through my VF headset with extreme sensation. I felt the stroke of subsonic vibrating brushes and slide of smooth, bare silk that each leaf was made up of. I would never have been able to feel the entirety of this if tickled similarly in the real world. Here, though, when every tingle and vibe is mathematically categorized and recorded before digital delivery, there was no way for me to not feel all of it. I almost cursed the program as I was tickled beyond belief, and she hadn't even reached my upper thighs yet.
Suddenly, I wheezed in fear. My sides. My ribs. This thing was going to tickle all of me! Even my... oh no. My cock surged and the plant seemed to sense it. I felt a tremor in her lush flora.
Slowly, she kept growing as Phooie ignored my pleas and continued to force me to experience her as only she could. A foot with a beautiful stocking on, flexed her seamed toes back and pressed them directly over my nose. I didn't question how the stocking got there but the scent was desperately thick with what smelled like apple cider vinegar as if it had been wearing a leather anklet boot all day as it strolled through Manhattan. I cringed and tried to move away, but the feet on my head held me firmly as Phooie sensed my torture and giggled, pressing her foot in a little more.
“Mmm, you like that one, don't you?” she cooed. “Well, I'll just let you enjoy it a while, shall I?”
The tickling became almost too much to bear, and yet I had to bear it. The soft, silky leaves caressed where my skin loved it and the strong, hard nail-like tips scritched where my skin hated it. The plant seemed to get bushier where my more ticklish spots were and as such, my thighs and outer ass cheeks under my shorts were covered in thick, crimson, wriggling foliage. I was laughing through my nose so hard I could barely see. After hours of endurance, I vaguely hear through the haze of tickling, the sound of ripping cloth. It's then that I realize the plant had shredded my shorts to gain access to my body. I rolled my eyes back into my head as my balls felt the unmistakable tingling of silky wrapping leaves.
Pretty feet of all sizes, skin color and scent continued to play with my face, the smells of which varied greatly from subtle and clean to sweat-drenched and dizzying. Her scents were intoxicating, a heady mix of sweat and perfume that sent my senses reeling. Tickling along my arches, toes, thighs and lower back grew more intense, the soft pads and horribly vibrating edges of the tickle plant's curling leaves and the tiny fingernail-like scratching sent shivers of pleasure throughout my entire virtual existence.
I smelled the sweet, musky aroma of a foot that'd been encased in an old canvas shoe at college all day, followed by the tangy, slightly sour scent of a foot that'd been inside a boot walking through the woods. Each smell was a revelation, a new and exciting story behind it that sent me spinning. I felt the apex of building tension, a feeling that I was on the verge of something indescribable. The tickle plant's leaves began to curl slowly around the base of my raging steel cock, the soft pads of which pressed into my skin exploringly, mapping nerve clusters before touching down with the brushed edges to really bring it out of me.
Tiny fingernail-like scratching sent wracking shivers of pleasure straight into my brain. I realized through the haze of full body tickling (so far) that I was being driven towards a climax I didn't realize had been coiling for the day and a half I had been held and tormented. The tension was as palpable and tight as an industrial strength rubber band about to snap, building and building until I was on the verge of explosion. My eyes were wide with both anticipation and shame. I couldn't let these things do this to me! I couldn't let myself lose control at their behest.
Phooie's branches tightened around my limbs, sensing my upcoming undoing, holding me in place as she whispered sweet nothings in my ear. "Smell me, my love." she whispered, her voice like honey-silk. "Let me drive you wild with pleasure." Her feet moved closer, the scents and sensations growing more intense as the plant's tickling and exploring drove me towards the edge. My cock was about half covered from the base as my balls were squeezed slightly and stroked. My tip was dripping with the promise of release and the silky skin of my cock was searched intensely for agonizing pleasure. I tried yet again, unsuccessfully, to wriggle from from the tree's grasp.
Phooie murmured a soft giggle as my penis became fully wrapped with the gradual foliage of the tickle plant and every inch of it was stroked, caressed and brushed. My first orgasm in Zurelandia ruptured my loins with a super-heated bloom of sensual violence as a soft leaf curled and stroked across my ultra-sensitive frenulum with a single nailtip. The nuclear level pleasure ripped through my system like a deluge. The tickle plant took notice as a stream of my release fountained across the ground under the canopy of the tree before the real core of the orgasm even hit. My back arched as best it could against the glue holding me to the tree and every muscle in my body clenched, squeezing pleasure through me as the plant reacted and fed on its frequency.
Phooie’s giggle vibrated through her trunk as my release pulsed wildly, the stockinged foot sliding along my nose from toes to heel and back with deliberate, torturous slowness. "Mmm, such enthusiasm," she cooed, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. Her branches shifted, rotating my restrained body slightly to expose as much of my trembling torso to the tickle plant’s advancing leaves. The crimson foliage slithered upward with gradual abandon, their velvety surfaces humming with anticipation mapping every part of me for its consumption.
A single leaf paused at the crease under my balls, then flicked its nailtip against the hypersensitive skin there. I jerked violently, but Phooie’s grip only tightened, the toes of four feet kneading my trapped arms as another foot pressed its smelly ball over my nose. This one smelled richer, deeper, like sockless running shoes jogged through a summer storm, earthy and pungent. My muffled groan vibrated against her arch as the plant's feathery silkiness swarmed my lower back and sides to dine, each microscopic filament across its broad edges buzzing against nerve endings I didn’t know existed on my avatar.
Another leaf joined the one under my balls, her tip scribbling rapid circles just beneath my scrotum while its velvety pad cupped and caressed my perineum. I screamed through the ongoing tickling at the sensation, my hips bucking instinctively, but the branches held me back, immobilized as the sensations crescendo. I orgasmed again, so much harder than I'd ever felt in the real world, shivering as the plant began to recognize my more potent hot spots. Phooie’s voice purred through the haze, "Breathe deeper, little explorer. Don’t you want to know what my favorite pair smells like?"
The toes over my nose curled, then she swapped feet again. This time it was a salty, vinegary aroma that burned my nostrils and flooded my skull. The program's healing algorithm maintained my strength and health, and I didn't feel the least bit exhausted after the second orgasm in as many minutes. As such, my erection held strongly, and never once grew soft with fatigue.
The Tickle Plant’s leaves converged on my throbbing shaft, coiling more strongly around the base while teasing the slit with a nail-tip. Everywhere in between was either stroked or tickled, precise and unrelenting. My body arched, but there was no escape, only the dual assault of Phooie’s olfactory torture and the plant’s surgical tickling. An orgasm as strong and undeniable as the first two thundered through me again. As the plant continued to explore, growing in all directions and tickling everywhere along the way, I lost all focus on where I was, what my goal had been and how long I had yet to endure.
It had only been two days, by my reckoning. I had seven hundred and twenty eight days to go. The plant found my nipples, flicking them mercilessly as my vision blurred. Another climax detonated, my scream stifled by foot-flesh and glued sap as the leaves milked me yet again, prolonging the agony into a white-hot eternity and feeding her insatiable hunger. Phooie sighed contentedly, her branches swaying with sensual luxury.
"You’ve barely smelled even a quarter of my collection, my darling," she murmured as a fresh foot, this one floral, like lotion and damp cotton, descended toward my lips. The tickle plant’s leaves retreated from their ministrations momentarily, only to return with reinforcements, her movements synchronized, hungry. I swallow a deep, humid, foot-filled breath and bellow out laughter once more.
The pleasure which rocked me from the teasing smell of gloriously pretty feet and the tickle plant's otherworldly ability to pleasure and tickle my body created a wall of molten bliss I was slammed into repeatedly, with every spurt and muscle contraction. The aftershocks alone kept me rendered unable to think. The program's healing held my exhaustion at bay, and my cock remained fully erect, a permanent rod of extremely ticklish skin, ready to build the next crescendo like the crash of ocean waves upon a cliffside. And all the while, I was inundated with smelly, sexy feet. Phooie ensured the tickle plant had access to my body, as one helped me keep breathing the other's scent deeply. The parasite and host had now become symbiotic in their task. It was rather poetic, really.
Phooie’s sensual, yet diabolical giggle curled through the air like scented smoke as my body convulsed in her grasp.
“Relentless, isn't she?” she murmured, her voice a velvet purr. A new foot hovered inches from my face, this one’s aroma sharp and herbal, like crushed mint leaves steeped in day-old ballet flats.
“Breathe,” she commanded, and her toes clamped over my nostrils, flooding my sinuses with the bracing sting. My lungs burned, my cock twitching like a live wire as the tickle plant’s leaves swarmed my sides and ribcage. Their nail-tips scribbled figure-eight patterns around my armpits as Phooie unsealed my arms and lifted them high, rewrapping them. I screamed laughter again and wiggled uselessly, my awareness wrapped in tickling. Silky, fuzz-edged pads sucked rhythmically at my nipples and around my cockhead and I blazed another trail across the ground in front of me.
The dual assault triggered a jagged, breathless barrage of guffaws against Phooie’s sole as my hips tried to piston inside the plant's cocooning grip. The Plant’s newest tendril slowly slithered up the tiny canal of my unglued spine, the tip of one leaf drilling into the dimple above my tailbone. The tendril continued on, leaving that leaf in place. A merciless digging commenced along the flesh of my spine that arched my back and pulled a ragged roar from my throat. Joined with the scribbling along my sides and I became a churning mass of super ticklish flesh gripped and stimulated without mercy or heed. I came again. And again. And again.
Phooie clucked at me with dispassionate amusement. “Shhh, shhh… Save your voice, darling. You’ll need it.”
Her branches twisted, opening my body up a little and lifting my ass away from her trunk to give the plant more real estate to play with. My face was buried in the sweaty cleft between two more of her soles. The musk was feral, a cocktail of salt and skin that seared my avatar's brainstem and implanted a new core memory in my real world brain.
The tickle plant seized the opportunity, her leaves engulfing my dangling scrotum, one tendril coiled around the base while another flicked at my perineum with machine-gun precision. A third leaf glided up my taint, its feathery underside dragging over my puckered entrance slowly, maddeningly, before the nail-tip prodded, testing. My entire body seized up, a garbled shout muffled by foot-flesh, then relaxed as the leaf breached, its velvety surface vibrating as it burrowed damnably deeper. I rolled my eyes upward before crossing them in pleasure so hard, I wasn't sure if they'd ever uncross.
Phooie sighed above me, her branches swaying languidly. “Such noises you make,” she teased, peeling her feet away just enough to let me gasp for air, only to press a fresh pair against my face. These reeked of tropical ferment, like overripe mangoes left in a gym bag.
“Better,” she hummed, her toes wiggling into my mouth’s corners. “Now, hold still.”
The tickle plant’s invasion quickened, the larger, curled up leaf pistoning slowly in and out while its siblings strummed across my prostate like a harp. My vision fractured into prismatic bursts as another climax tore through me, my seed arcing upward to splatter Phooie’s lower branches like a water pistol. She shuddered, a low moan escaping her as the fluid dripped down her bark. “Mmm… resourceful,” she purred, her branches tightening. “Let’s see how many times you can fertilize me like that!”
The leaves redoubled their efforts.
Soft leaf pads circled my entire cock tightly as vibrating feathery edges deftly tickled my frenulum and other ultra-sensitive spots, sending sparks of electric pleasure right to my real world brain. I came again, directly after the last, my body trying to twist with the ecstasy, but not allowed. Meanwhile, my entire body was still, and continuously, being tickled with the most precise targeting and expertise.
Phooie’s laughter cascaded around me like wind chimes made of honey and venom. “Again?” she crooned, her voice laced with mock astonishment as my release spilled over the leaves coiled around me. “You’re drowning my roots, darling.”
Her branches pivoted me sharply, pressing my cheek against an upside down foot that smelled like caramelized sugar and stale champagne, a cloying, dizzying sweetness that made my head swim. The sole ground into my face, her toes hooking under my jaw. The tickle plant’s leaves responded to my shuddering gasp. Her velvety surfaces rippled along my shaft in a sequence mimicking the undulations of a silky tongue while nail-tips etched letters of nonsense against my urethra.
The vine of leaves that slithered up my spine bifurcated into twin tendrils that wormed up along my neck and into my ears, tickling the entire way with frenetic precision. My shrieking laughter was muffled by smelly feet, my hips jerking wildly as the dual assault hijacked my nervous system. Phooie swapped feet again. This pair reeked of diesel oil and rosewater, a nauseatingly addictive contrast.
“Breathe. Deeper. Deeper!” she insisted, her arch sealing over my nostrils as the tickle plant’s newest creation emerged: a leaf coated in glistening sap that 'burned' like menthol wherever it touched. It painted icy stripes across my nipples, inside my navel, the hollows of my knees, every stroke leaving my skin hypersensitive and quivering.
By the turn of the first week, my climaxes blurred into a single, searing continuum. Phooie watched, enraptured, as my body became a puppet to the plant's symphony. Each spurt of seed was met with a fresh foot pressed to my face, each gasp answered by leaves swarming my throat, my upper ribs, the spaces between my toes.
“Zurelandia’s finest test subject,” Phooie sighed, her trunk shuddering as my fluids seeped into her roots. “But let’s see how you handle… this one.”
A branch snapped forward, presenting a foot lightly dusted in glittering pollen, its scent like burnt honey and iron. The moment it grazed my lips, my mind ignited, synapses firing in kaleidoscopic patterns as the tickle plant’s leaves surged inward, consuming me whole. My body, from the outside of the tree, was wholly invisible.
I could no longer think. It'd been a week, in Zurelandia time, and it'd been nonstop sexual fantasy work on my entire system. The tree and the plant worked side by side, independently, yet in perfect synchronization, bringing me the absolute most incredible pleasure that I, as someone with a foot fetish, could possibly imagine. The tickling was precision sensation. The extremely powerful orgasms were nonstop. The smelly feet were constant. A month later, I couldn't remember why I was there. Two months later, I'd forgotten who I even was.
Phooie’s branches cradled me like a cocoon of sweat and perfume, her feet caressing my face in a rotating carousel of scents... sweat sock and canvas, brook water and leather. Each aroma rewired my synapses to crave her, only her.
The tickle plant had also evolved. Her leaves no longer merely tickled... they orchestrated, conducting my avatar's mapped and intimately-known nervous system like a deranged maestro. My nipples became perpetually erect, rasped raw by velvety leaf pads that hummed at the exact frequency to mimic a lover’s tongue. The Plant’s newest appendage, a corkscrew-coiled tendril tipped with a curated sap designed to heighten sensitivity, painted my balls hourly, ensuring even the brush of a breeze felt like a lightning strike.
Phooie rewarded my choked whimpers by cramming a smaller foot soaked in fermented sweat into my then-unsealed mouth, her toes kneading my tongue as I gagged reflexively.
“Shhh,” she crooned lovingly, “you’ll learn to enjoy the bitterness.”
Four months into the year, my identity crumbled completely. I was simply The Sniffer, as my universe was reduced to the caress of soles against my face and the plant’s ceaseless manipulation of my erogenous zones destroyed any peace I might have known. When I screamed, every time I screamed, Phooie stuffed a new foot reeking of cheese and burnt sugar into my throat. When I thrashed, the plant’s leaves bound my ankles and wrists with vines that secreted a numbing agent, paralyzing me just enough to feel every scritch, every stroke, every explosion with the utmost intensity. My orgasms had become autonomic, like breathing. A pulse of release every 47 seconds, give or take, my seed having been repurposed as fertilizer for Phooie’s roots.
Six months into the year, the tickle plant discovered something new about my prostate. Replacing the timid prodding of before, it created a siege. Three silky leaves working in tandem, one vibrating, one twisting, one dripping icy sap that made my insides clench like a fist with every stroke. Phooie celebrated the new discovery by smothering me with feet marinated in black garlic and honey, their stench so potent it looped back into euphoria. I begged, but my words were just wet noises against her salty toes.
“Who are you again?” Phooie giggled, her trunk creaking with amusement as she dangled a moss and earthy-scented foot over my face. “Someone important?”
The plant’s newly created corkscrew-coiled needle surged slowly down into my urethra, its feathery hairs vibrating in unison along its entire length as the tip touched the inside of my cockbase. With this new torture, as well as stroking and tickling the outside of my cock, it was impossible to keep from ripping myself in half with orgasms. My back arched and I saw stars but there was no “me” left to resist. There was only a vessel, hollowed out and refilled with ticklish fire. Somewhere, in the blur of sweat and sap, I recalled a countdown, but my memory was swept up by a new surge of full body tickling from my ears to between each of my toes. A new smelly foot descended and I worshipped it with a wide smile.
The last hour of the twelfth month, my avatar had long since fused with the tree's soft trunk, creating merely a nose to smell with and a body to tickle. Arms and legs had disappeared inside the tree's bark. I was a shivering, laughing, smelling, convulsing growth.
My nostrils were the last remnant of a face, flared and quivering, embedded like twin fossils in Phooie’s flesh. The rest of me was a topography of reactive skin: nerve clusters swollen from overstimulation, my pelvis reduced to a shuddering pivot point for the tickle plant’s endless innovations. My cock, eternally erect, had fused the tip with the tree’s sap ducts, its veins pulsing in time with Phooie’s roots. Every tickling orgasm it received fed her directly, my seed siphoned through capillaries that glowed faintly under her skin.
Phooie hummed a lullaby which sounded like a blend of creaking wood and rustling leaves. “Perfect,” she murmured, her voice echoing through the hollows of my mind. A fresh foot, her scent a nauseating blend of hot leather and cool lilac petals, sealed over my nostrils. “Breathe. This one’s special. Aged in a red thigh-high boot for three days on a bus ride across the country.”
The stench was apocalyptic, a fungal rot that clawed at my brainstem. I convulsed, but there was no body left to thrash, only raw sensation, honed to a razor’s edge. The tickle plant had become one with Phooie’s structure. Its leaves sprouted directly from her branches, their velvety pads fused with her flesh, tickling some of her own feet as well as my entire body. The curly tendril inside the length of my cock, its surface studded with micro-hairs that fluttered like cilia, destroyed me as I came around its curled structure so hard and repeatedly, I saw nothing but a wall of white. Another tendril had long since invaded my rectum, her tip having bloomed into a spiraling brush that scrubbed my prostate raw with impossibly high vibration. A third tendril latched onto my nipples, then permanently distended, and pumped them like bellows.
Ten minutes until my final second, Phooie whispered into my ear, her voice a sawtooth purr. “I love you, you know. I do.”
The assault escalated, as if she was surprised at what she'd said. Phooie’s feet cycled through a moldy gym sock wearing foot, with an acetone-soaked ballet flat worn foot, feet dusted with cinnamon and decay, and an eye-watering set of vinegar smelling soft toes. Each scent rewrote my neural pathways, burning away the last scraps of me. The tickle plant’s tendrils synchronized, and her movements formed a rhythm: piston, scrub, flutter, repeat. My orgasms lost all distinction, merging into a continuous geyser of seed that Phooie drank greedily, her trunk swelling with each pulse.
My nostrils tore themselves wider, cartilage dissolving as Phooie’s bark encroached. The feet then smelled of... me. My own musk recycled, fermented, weaponized. The tickle plant’s torture became a part of me by then, and I felt her roots in my brainstem, her leaves photosynthesizing my mirth somehow. Evolution. Phooie’s laughter shook the ground around us. “Just look at what you've become!” she cooed. “A monument. You're a masterpiece, my love!”
Her branches convulsed, her trunk twisted, and my fused body snapped into a fetal curl. The tickle plant’s tendrils positively detonated. Every nerve was lit like a fuse, every synapse became a supernova. The white hot tickling erupted from me. I didn't cum. I ignited.
Then... it was zero time.
The real world snapped back. My physical body jerked violently in the chair so hard, I tipped over to the floor, sweat-drenched and trembling. The headset clattered across the floor. The orgasm was still tearing through my body and I was drenching my real world pants. My hands flew to my face, my chest, my overly sensitive cock that was still spurting. My body started convulsing on the floor uncontrollably. I seized up, screamed in wracked breaths.
Then, I realized it was over. I realized where I was. I spat and huffed, my head anchored in comfort on the cool hardwood, and I calmed. It took a while. But the phantom scents lingered. Sweat socks and gym bags. Motor oil and lilacs. Apple cider and tequila. My nipples throbbed. My asshole clenched around nothing. I finally rolled my eyes upward and saw the screen. The Zurelandia login portal flickered. I looked down at my VR headset nearby on the floor. A notification blinked across its tiny viewscreen: [SESSION TERMINATED. FEEDBACK SUBMITTED TO DEVELOPERS.]
I stared at the diamond acknowledge icon and finally got up on shaking arms. I made my way over and picked up the headset, holding it with disbelieving abandon.
“I'm back.” I say stupidly. Looking at the clock, I see that twenty minutes had passed since I'd entered the program. Twelve inside and eight recovering from it. My fingers hovered. Somewhere, in a server farm in Ohio, Phooie’s roots twitched. Somewhere in that server farm, Phooie was in shock, wondering where I'd gone.
“She’s patient. She’ll wait.” I murmured to myself.
I sat down, then grunted and came in the seat, in my pants, involuntarily. Then I came again. And again. It took three hours to pass out from exhaustion as my body finally ceased orgasming in an all out sexual seizure. When I awoke the next morning, it was a while before I could even move. Later, after a much appreciated coffee, I went through the code line by line and examined where I needed to make changes. I left the creatures alone, but I inserted safety measures into place that were obviously going to be required. I did, however juvinile it might have been, set an impenetrable perimeter around Phooie and ramped up the ticklishness of her many feet and soft trunk by several degrees, then I watched the code replicate itself in real time. The tickle plant was not going easy on her. With a smile, I saved Zurelandia and made a note to look into therapy for whatever PTSD that I was certain I might have.
Within several weeks, Zurelandia became the number one downloaded virtual reality game on the planet. I became vastly wealthy and was the following year's "sexiest rising billionaire" according to magazines the hottest people read.
Meanwhile...
The code adjustments had rippled through Zurelandia’s ecosystem like a virus. Subtle, elegant, vengeful. Phooie’s newly amplified ticklishness triggered a feedback loop in her branches. And every time the parasitic tickle plant grazed one of her feet, her trunk shuddered violently, releasing clouds of pollen that smelled like humiliation and lavender. Though I had become extremely wealthy almost overnight, one of my foremost delights was watching my favorite tree through the debug console as her once-domineering giggles pitched into desperate squeals, her many captured feet spasming in the plant’s unyielding grip.
“Are you coming?” my assistant asked, holding a tablet and looking at me curiously as I sat at my desk in our new building. All our servers were moved to the basement and my army of employees were keeping Zurelandia safe in the floors below me. The city skyline glimmered in the growing twilight through the massive view of windows behind me as I looked up.
“Yeah, be there shortly. Just something I'm looking into.” I said. My assistant nodded and backed out. The gala could wait. I glanced back down and examined the real-time code.
“N-no! This isn’t—ah!—fair!” Phooie shrieked through hard laughter, her branches flailing as the plant learned the exact ticklish spots of every foot it reached and all up along her trunk, adapting its tactics to exploit her hypersensitivity. I leaned back, sipping cold coffee, and observed the chaos. The Plant’s leaves had developed serrated edges, sawing playfully between Phooie’s toes while its roots anchored every foot in place from several different directions. Her screams of laughter echoed through the server logs.
Meanwhile...
**Zurelandia Patch Notes v2.1.5:
/////////////////////////////////////////////
**Added: Mandatory “Safe Word” protocol for all sensory-based entities.
**Fixed: Glitch causing eternal orgasm loops (mostly).
**Enhanced: Parasitic Plant AI now prioritizes “consensual sadism.”
**Known Issue: Phooie’s pollen still induces phantom foot-fetish hallucinations in 12% of testers.