“More…I need more!”

“Fill me,” you beg the plant with breathless words. “I don’t care anymore. Just put them in!” The tendrils caressing your quim and asshole pull back slightly, aiming their pointy heads at the two dripping holes. With a sudden surge, they push inside you. Your head shoots back and your mouth drops wide to give out a yell of pleasure.

A vine forces its way into your mouth before your lustful calls are able to spill out completely from your raw throat. You’re once more silenced by the plant, **** to suckle one of its many shafts.

The three tendrils push in and out of you with rapid thrusts. The flower is now twice as eager with its pounding of your holes. Each one almost completely leaves your body before darting back inside as deep as it can go. The friction of the thick shafts and the new batch of dripping nectar have your body burning with increasing heat.

Your position gives you an even better view of the plant-cocks pushing in and out of your holes. The visual of seeing your body be claimed like this has you all the more excited. Being held still as you’re subjected to this torturous pleasure has your brain reeling with lustful surrender.

You feel your next orgasm already bubbling to the top. There was no denying it, even if you wanted to. The hasty fucking of all your sensitive cavities makes it impossible to hold back the oncoming climax.

Colors blot your vision as another dizzying orgasm is **** out of your body. You scream even louder than before against the vine gaging you. Your eyes shut tight. You shake violently against your ropy restraints. You feel a pressure in your quim that builds and builds until it gives away around the tendril plugging it. A harsh rush of your juices, mixed with the plant’s, explode around the green shaft. You feel your inner muscles harshly contract, pushing more of your orgasmic fluids in a fashion you never thought you could.

As you ride out your climax, you feel the familiar bumps travel up the vines. They spill the main load into your already stuffed depths. You swallow up the heavy cream in your mouth while your loins accept the syrup to the extent of their capacity.

After pumping you full of green slime, the tendrils pull back. Your quim is already as stuffed as it can be, pushing out the excess from the stretched hole, but the plant doesn’t care. A new set of vines take position at your drooling openings and dive right in.

The evening races past. You have no idea how many times you were **** to come. However, you know that almost every stem the flower owns has had a go with one of your holes.

Your eyes stay wide open as you hang in the air by the tendrils. You blankly stare at the ground, your sight too blurry to be able focus on anything. Your jaw hangs open as you slowly take deep breaths. Drool and green spunk drip from your chin. Your lower holes sit slightly agape, pulsing lightly as a mix of fluids push their way out into the open.

You have lost all track of time. Your vision fades in and out. You barely stay conscious for the moment when the plant finally begins to lower you. The vines pull your legs tightly together and move them towards the center of the flower. You feel your legs get sucked into a tight, gooey orifice.

This must be it. This must be the moment when the plant finally consumes you. The flower pushes your legs inside its apparently hollow center. But rather than swallow you whole, it only pulls you in down to your knees. You’re not sure why the plant doesn’t consume your entire form in one gulp. Whether it doesn’t have enough room for your whole body or something else means little to your dazed brain.

You feel a tickling around your feet and calves as tiny worm-like feelers begin to wiggle against your skin. You pay little attention to it, your consciousness barely in the balance. You would simply collapse if some the stamens weren’t still holding you up. The vines keep you standing nearly straight, but fold your arms close to your body.

You feel the heat of your torso on your arms. It’s like a fever. The overabundant plant cum that’s still dripping down from between your legs is now seeping into your bloodstream. Your body tries hard to fight the foreign fluid invading your veins, but it’s a losing battle.

The rosy petals of the flower lift upwards and close around you, blocking sound and light from reaching you. In the silent, dark confines of the plant’s flower, you feel a certain calm. It makes you sleepy. There is nothing holding you back now from drifting asleep. You’re glad you won’t be awake to experience the plant eating you. But unbeknownst to you, the plant never intended on consuming you. In your fading thoughts, you never imagine the kind of fate the plant plans to subject you to.