Caught by the Cocoon (*/FF, creepy, top nudity, sexy)
There is no way I should make you feel any better than I do. So I brought back my nightmare...
Share with me.
The story that goes with this artwork is written a few years ago by my great MTJ team-mate Colin.
I thank him for letting me re-post the story here! Isn't he awesome? He sure is!!! :).
"Cocoon" Written by Colin
As Claudine walked across the meadow, she thought, What am I doing? What sane person would do this?
The meadow was different this late at night, an alien planet with herself the single inhabitant. The moon lit the rolling expanse of grass, drained it of color but left it silvered. Ribbons of mist floated around her. The air was chill, but Claudine hadn’t bothered to put a coat over her slip, or even slippers. She relished the fibrous sensation of dew-soaked grass crushing under her bare feet. Some inner heat was holding the night at bay; her nipples were erect and aching.
When she neared the place where she had first found the hole, she wondered—half feared—that now she would find it gone. But no, it was still there, ragged edges fringed with moss that seemed to ripple and move in response to the tremors of her approaching feet. The mist over the hole seemed to replenish itself, as though it were the exhalations of some living creature.
Claudine knelt before the gap in the earth, re-lived the wonder and slight fear she had felt when she first discovered it. Once again she slid her hand into the hole, shuddered as her fingers encountered not only twitching fronds of moss, but—going deeper—a moist smooth expanse of something, studded with tiny papillae. Like a human tongue.
The substance writhed under her hand. It seemed eager to greet her, rubbing against her, licking her like an eager dog. The moss-like stuff rubbed lightly over her palm, then over the back of her hand, tickling.
What if she put her foot in?
The idea had occurred to her that morning. She had been wearing stout boots and heavy socks. In a way, that was what inspired her tonight—when she had woken from her uneasy sleep and decided to venture out—to come barefoot. If I’m going to do it, she thought, I’ll do it right. Like a virgin offering myself.
She didn’t want to do it. She was ticklish, so ticklish…she hated it when lovers tickled her, yet she craved it as well, hungered for that light, infuriating touch that would render her weak with laughter. When she had found the hole that morning, she had not thought not of alien life forms or strange geological mutations, but something simpler, almost childish: it’s a tickle-hole. If you put your bare foot in, it’ll tickle you to death.
And the need to do that, to satisfy her curiosity and dread, was something she could not refuse. I’m insane, she thought again, and shut her eyes, and slid her foot into the hole.
She began laughing immediately, but it was with a shock of pleasure. The nerves of her foot came alive, seeming almost to sparkle. Her sole itched and her toes wriggled lasciviously. Fronds of moss whispered between them and caressed her ankle. The rough, wet substance rubbed irresistibly over her sole. Claudine laughed into the night, an uncontrolled laugh not unlike a scream of both delight and agony.
Then, frightened, she tried to remove her foot, and found she could not. As she had been enjoying the ticklish sensation, long, vinelike things had snaked around her ankle and began pulling her. As she cried out, more of them lashed like tentacles from the hole and wound themselves around her. They were tipped with tiny, sucking mouths that probed her skin and tore at her light slip. Though she fought with all her strength, the tentacles claimed her with no trouble at all. Claudine screamed, but her legs were already disappearing into the hole, then the rest of her body.
The tickling continued, quickly becoming unbearable. The moss and tentacles and tongue-like flesh of the hole’s interior seemed bent on breaking her down—not with acids and chemicals, but with her body’s own nervous reactions. It was exquisite agony to feel the moss buffing her breasts and between her legs, separate fronds working on her nipples and tender sex like tiny, dextrous fingers. She was bent in an awkward pose that exposed every sensitive spot of her body, her limbs held in positions that prevented any attempt at escape.
Her soles and toes suffered the worst, polished and licked and mercilessly sucked, her nerves screaming. Claudine remembered a school friend once teasing her about how ticklish she was on her feet, telling her that when she went to hell, her punishment would be a feather drawn over the sole of her bare foot, again and again for eternity.
Is that where I am, she wondered. In hell? But there was pleasure as well as agony in this strange place. Claudine was a sensual woman and knew her own body well enough to sense herself being drawn helplessly towards a shattering climax. The cave would literally tickle her into an orgasm that might drive her mad.
As she struggled against the devilish sensations, Claudine wondered desperately what would happen once the last aftershocks of the climax had left her. If the tickling should continue, she knew she wouldn’t be able to stand it, yet she had no way of preventing it.
I should have stayed in bed, she thought desperately, and at that moment a stray frond between her toes ignited her climax. The earth shook with her pleasure and torment.
- END -
^ Google Translator^
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