The Woods Have Vines

I normally wouldn’t be happy to call a patch of dirt deep in the woods my home, but that is the point of this trip. For the weekend I am alone – left to my own devices to survive while I embrace nature and my unabridged mind. I made this trip into the woods to reconnect with myself, as cliché as that sounds.

I set up my tent and load up my backpack before following a trail up a mountain and further into the woods. I hum a tune I’ve never heard, letting my mind run free while I bask in fresh woodsy air and beautiful sights of foliage and trees bigger than my apartment complex. I’m too distracted by the view to notice I’ve walked off the trail. When I do notice, my newly freed spirit decides no trail can hold me, and I climb overgrown roots and crouch under low branches until I find myself where I want to be.

The further I go, the more exotic the trees seem. Vines hang from branches and roots protrude out of the ground and stretch out across the forest floor. In the middle of a group of trees was a clearing lousy with vines that lay over huge roots and offered an eerily enticing place to take a break and look around in awe. I stop to have some water and a snack and sit on one of the roots.

Had I been with friends, I would block the following thoughts out of shame. Alone, I let myself examine the long vines and I go straight into thoughts of anime girls being defiled by dick-shaped tentacles. It’s my dirty little secret. Something about a faceless mass of tentacles just does it for me. You can’t blame me—with movies like Slither and The Evil Dead sexualizing tentacles in the west, and hentai being so openly pro-tentacle.

Thanks to the Internet, all I can think about as I sit in the woods amongst the trees is how many ways their vines could enter me. And on that note, I pick up my backpack and head back to my camp.

Back at my campsite I light a fire, cook some canned pasta, and toast some bread. I lie back in the bed of the truck I borrowed for just this purpose and watch the stars in the dark sky. I watched a few shoot by, wishing for luck and joy and maybe a good date. I went on the trip to be alone, but in the middle of a dark forest with the sounds of leaves rustling I wished there was someone with me.

I bask in my feeling of self beneath the stars until my first yawn then headed to my sleeping bag. I leave on a dimmed night light which gave the inside of my tent a dreamy yellow glow against the green fabric.

I fall asleep and re-emerge in my dreams at the pasture of vines in the deep woods. There is even less of the ground to see than when I was awake, and it all seemed to be… moving. I go to take a step and something catches my ankle. It looks like a vine that had poked out through the others. It doesn’t pull me back, instead, it coils up my calf and then further. I don’t move a muscle, either too scared or too curious. It ventures up further and I have the wherewithal to place my hand over my thigh to prevent it from slithering up my shorts. The tip of the vine nudges my hand but when I persist, another vine shoots upward from below and takes my wrist to yank it away. I’m ashamed to admit it excited me.

The vine grasping my wrist slithers up my arm then moves around my back to eventually wrap around my chest. It coiled around twice and left my breasts jutting out between my binds. I was finally helpless, unable to move if I had wanted to—not that I tested it. In my dream, I could see myself as if watching from not too far. I looked like a victim but the flushed cheeks and biting of my lip made it apparent I was blissful.

I gasp at the sudden feel of the vine around my leg sliding around my hips and venturing beneath the waistband of my panties. I squirm in protest and to my dismay, it stops. The tip of the vine is feeling the tuft of hair on my mound while the vine above my chest loosens and lowers to knead my breasts. It squeezed while sliding across the nipples that hardened beneath my shirt. The vine between my legs slides down further and brushes against my clit, making me whimper for all sorts of reasons.

It drags across my clit downward, wedging between my lips until the tip finds my entrance. All I want is to not wake up before it takes the plunge, but it is the plunge that breaks me out of my fantasy and back to my tent.

However, the sensations I was so desperate to hold onto in my sleep don’t stop when I wake. I jolt awake and push my hands up to push whoever is inside of me off, but my hands whizz by and I look up to see no one. I look around the tent confused and place my hands on the ground to sit up.

I look down to see wriggling beneath my sleeping bag, and before I can scream and run away, a familiar feeling of entrapment ensues and two very real vines coil up my forearms and secure my hands in place.

Unlike in my dream, I panic and tug my arms only to find that the vines are strong enough to prevent me from budging. It’s during this realization I feel my chest tighten. I look down to see a long bulge under my shirt slithering between my breasts. I scream, squirming where I sit and I’m reminded of the sensation that startled me awake when a sudden thrust into me cuts my scream short with a moan. I look down at my sleeping bag and my eyes follow the wriggling to the bottom of my unzipped bag. I can see more vines leading out of my sleeping bag and out my tent, into the darkness.

I go to scream again when I’m pulled back hard and I’m forced to lie down. I thrash in my binds as I feel the thing inside of me wriggle its way in deeper. My struggling doesn’t seem to faze my captors. I only wear myself out. I pant and whimper in frustration. The vine beneath my shirt slides around each breast, squeezing rhythmically. The thing within me begins to pull out and just as swiftly digs in deep until it’s reached as far as it could go.

I’m ashamed to realize how wet I am. Was it from the dream? Though I can now attribute my devious dream to the real-life sensations happening when I was helplessly asleep. A flash of myself moaning in the woods flashes in my mind and I feel the vine within me begin to slide back and forth. The tip of the vine is slightly smaller than its body, which isn’t very thick. The vines seem about the thickness of my middle finger crossing over my index – thinner at the top but not quite pointy, and getting thicker as you go down. I keep my eyes closed and take in the fact that I’m no match for this, and only then do I admit to myself that I wish the vines were thicker.

It doesn’t thrust in and out but wriggles as if digging through and then wriggling back out. The tip of the vine thrashes, bumping clumsily against my cervix. It’s unlike anything I’ve felt before. No fancy vibrator could move like this. As if sensing my cooperation, the vines restricting my arms retreat and instead go to pull the top of my sleeping bag off of me and finally my situation is revealed.

I see now the mass of vines idly slithering around my legs and body. My sleeping bag is full of them. The newly unoccupied vines pull my shirt up and immediately drag their length across my nipples, then back down, repeating as the other vines squeeze my breasts. Chills run down my spine and I moan softly feeling my nipples tingle at the sensation. More vines come up to caress my shoulders and slither across my thighs. I moan and feel the thing inside of me press in deep and thrash its length about. It feels so good but I dare long for more.

I part my lips to moan and the tip of one vine slides up my neck and along my jaw. It sweeps across my lips and then dips into my mouth to touch my tongue curiously. I hesitate at first but my urges win, and I lick to taste. It has a mild floral flavor, almost doesn’t taste like anything, but there is a tingling sensation on my tongue I purr at and I don’t hesitate to suckle the thing and let it slip further along my tongue.

I moan around the vine and picture myself right now, covered in vines and welcoming them inside of me. I swirl my tongue around the phallic intruder and feel a companion sliding up my thigh. This one, in particular, feels determined – not idly teasing my flesh like the many others but instead moving with a purpose. I feel it touch my wet lips, tracing along my labia and spreading my lewd juices. It teased me for minutes that way before prodding my clit, making my hips jolt and my voice rumble in my throat. It continues down to my opening and rubs around teasingly. The vine within me slides out and before it can burrow its way in alone, the other joins it and I moan in the blissful feeling of fullness.

The two wriggled within me, alternating their thrusts at some points and syncing them at others. I was consistently caught off guard by their movements and it drove me crazy. The varying degree of fullness is new and amazing. The vine I’m sucking on moves down my throat and I eagerly engulf it. Within me the vines feel like their fighting for space, bumping against the walls erratically and the tips of each doing their best to tickle my cervix.

The vines wrapped around me tighten and seem to pulsate. The two within me feel more frantic, squirming wildly against my most sensitive spots. I moan and the vine in my mouth pulls out, releasing the sound and letting it echo in my tent. The vine wraps around my throat and squeezes gently. I am unafraid.

As I begin to feel lightheaded, a new vine finds my clit and flicks it over and over until I let loose and convulse in the most pleasure I’ve ever felt. The vines have me bound, keeping my orgasm restrained to my core rather than bursting through what would normally be my writhing body. It feels like an implosion, centered deep within me and unrelenting. I lose track of my senses, feeling nothing but the erupting pleasure and the odd comfort of the surrounding vines wrapping up my body and pulsating in what I can only assume is its own pleasure.

When I finally ride out the wave I open my eyes drearily to see darkness, the vines covering my face along with my entire body. I feel movement, but I can’t tell if I myself am moving or if it’s the motion of the vines. Between the cracks, I can see the glow of my tent, then the faint light of the stars, and finally the darkness of the woods.

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