Fire the flare at Becky!

"Sorry, Becky!" you cry as you twist your hand in her grip and aim the flare pistol at her. She moans with apparent pleasure and tries to lean in to your face, her tongue long and slightly purple in color. You pull the trigger.

You weren't necessarily expecting her to burst into flames, but you were hoping for some sort of reaction. Instead, the bright red flare bounces from her cheek leaving a slight scorch mark. Becky doesn't even blink. She continues to lean in, pressing her cool, naked flesh against you and smothering you with a musty, vegetable kiss. Her tongue slides into your mouth and nearly gags you. Out of the corner of your eye you can see the burning flare has landed harmlessly in the empty grave Becky has just vacated.

Your cry of horror is muffled by Becky's kiss as you are pulled down to the ground. You struggle as her knee presses between your thighs and against your sex. Tendrils descend and wrap around your wrists in place of Becky's hands. She tears open your blouse, freeing your dark bra piled with heaving titflesh. Another drag of her hand and your bra snaps open, your huge, pale mounds swaying from side to side as you fight to turn away from her.

She moans and falls upon your sensitive nipples, sucking them into her mouth and driving you wild with her hands. Against your will, you arch your back and cry out with pleasure as she grinds her thigh against your sex. You can feel your moisture soaking through your panties and lubricating her leg.

"Please stop," you cry, aware of the huge vines and dripping carrot-like protrusions gathering all around you.

Becky is not governed by reason. She moans like a zombie and drags her tongue across your stomach, down to your panties. She drags them aside and her mouth falls upon your dewy mound. Her nose is buried in your trimmed rectangle of pubic hair and her tongue is squirming deep inside you as she sucks your clit. Her strong hands hold you wide open and helplessly **** to her talented tonguing. You gaze down at her, moaning and beginning to work your hips in rhythm with her flicking tongue. She peers up at you from between your thighs with those milky-yellow eyes. Fear raises gooseflesh on your arms even as pleasure tightens in your loins.

You gasp in surprise as a vine wraps around your throat several times forming a constricting collar. You can still breathe, but you can scarcely move your neck. A moment later one of the orange vegetable tips looms into view, narrower than a carrot but even longer. It droops slightly as it approaches your face and flexes as if sensing you, releasing a gush of translucent sap that splatters across your tits. The liquid has an immediate effect on you, like a shot of strong ****.

Your lips part in a gasp and without hesitation the vine thrusts the orange root tip into your mouth. You moan, on the edge of climax, as the plant creature bastes your mouth with the thick, bitter liquid. It oozes down your throat, coating it, numbing it and filling your limbs with warm numbness. You cum hard in that moment as it begins to fuck your mouth, bucking your hips against Becky's licking as the root is stuffed into your throat. Your breasts begin to jiggle and sway with each thrust to your mouth from the vine.

As you come down from your orgasm you are surprised that Becky lifts you and turns you onto your knees. The vines move to accomodate this new position, but the steady fucking of your mouth continues, the root thrusting in and out of your submissively ovalled lips and coating your tongue with its bitter sap, now drooling out of your mouth in a steady stream. Becky strokes your upturned bum, caressing your shapely cheeks and spreading your arse to the humid greenhouse air.

Your gasp is muffled by the greased gourd pummeling your throat as you feel a slippery appendage thrust into your soaking slit. Becky's tongue finds its way into your crack and in no time you're being worked at every end. You are so delirious with pleasure you're not even quite sure when Becky's tongue slithers from the relaxed wrinkle of your arse to be replaced by another thrusting vegetable. The oozing tuber slurps into your sphincter and fills your colon with more soothing sap.

The plant-fucking continues for an increasingly warm and disjointed eternity. You are flipped from front to back, lifted to the air by vines, your depths penetrated by multiple vegetable tendrils at once, your mouth and nose overflowing with glistening sap. Grunts and splooshes accompany the occasional discharge of yellowish goop into your body, distending your belly or spraying out of the tendrils to coat your breasts or your bum.

You cum again and again, so many times, bucking and thrashing against the plant pricks, that one climax flows into another to the point that you are in a constant state of orgasmic ecstasy. After many hours, your body sore and bruised and scuffed, you are placed upon the dirt. The tendrils detach from your ooze-crammed cunny and arse, leaving behind the quivering white tendrils of roots. These sink into the black soil and draw you in, one limb at a time, until only the tops of your breasts and your face remain exposed.

You have one last thought as the soil closes over your face and you drift away to sleep: What will I be when I awake?