Fight with all your might

You thrash and flail, trying to free yourself from the plant’s grasp. “Let go of me, you stupid—!” you manage to say before the vine that was hovering besides your face quickly darts into your open mouth. Your eyes go wide as the thick shaft invades your gullet. Your lips reflexively close around the vine in a tight seal. The plant’s tendril wiggles and thrusts into the warm confines of your mouth. You taste the hibiscus-like sweetness of the organ as it moves across your tongue.

You twist your head to try and dislodge the thing from between your lips, when you suddenly feel a gush of syrupy goo drip across your tongue and down your throat. You swallow the sugary liquid in order to avoid drowning in it.

You manage to **** the thing to withdraw with a bite, but not before having swallowed a cupful of its honeyed juice. You lightly cough as you try and catch your breath. Your head falls backwards, hanging down as all your strength seems to disappear from your body. You reel and shudder from the feeling of the plant slime churning in your stomach, closing your eyes and furrowing your brow in discomfort.

You open your eyes, looking upside-down at another tendril poised in front of your face. It leaks some the lime green fluid that you’ve been **** to swallow. Your mind lingers on how sweet it was, and how wasteful it would be for any to drip onto the ground. You tilt your head and reach your tongue out so that you can catch some of the green syrup. The sweet nectar collects on your outstretched tongue and you retrieve it into your mouth, swallowing and licking your lips in contentment.

You gasp at the realization of what you just did. “Why did I—?” you ask yourself, but you’re silenced again when a vine gently pushes past your talking lips. It saws into the suction of your mouth, until the stem begins to pump more of the fluid down your throat. You don’t know why, but you can’t help but drink the flower’s thick juice willingly, now eagerly sucking away at the phallic tendril. The sweetness is just too inviting—the feeling of arousal boiling between your legs too tempting.

You feel a pair of vines rub across your two lower holes. You moan with approval around the stem in your mouth and try to raise your head to look to the pair trying to gain entrance to your neighboring passages.

You feel one of the thick stems push past your pussy lips, carefully squirming its way up inside your well lubed channel. Your eyes flutter and you give out a muffled howl as it stretches your moist depth, slowly filling you out. It feels like forever before the smooth vine reaches the entrance to your womb, the coolness brushing your cervix.

The plant-cock at your anus takes a few seconds longer to gain entrance, needing to grease the tight hole with its slippery fluids. It eventually slips deep inside, and the two organs immediately begin to wiggle, rub, and thrust in unison. You feel them grinding against each other inside you, only a thin piece of flesh separating them, making your nerves erupt with pleasure and your throat explode with stifled screams of ecstasy.

The two tendrils fucking your loins begin to lightly pump their fluids into your womb and colon, making your core glow with a tingling heat. Any resistance you showed is now gone. You hang limply from the vines holding you up, letting the plant have its way with you. Your eyes roll back and you push your breasts high into the air, the vines coiled around them lightly massaging the mounds.

You shut your eyes and let echoing moans escape your hushed throat as you approach mind blowing release. You give yourself to the pleasure, willing the orgasm to come and steal your mind away. You’d gladly surrender everything you have to reach completion.

All three vines plugging your orifices give one last push and wedge themselves as deep as they can. You peer through half-open eyes at the tendril in your mouth, seeing two bumps quickly travel up the smooth stem. You feel the swells travel past your lips and reach the tip of the vine’s shaft, blasting a thick concoction, even sweeter than the last, down your throat. You drink it. The thick liquid’s effects are almost instant. The pleasure it makes you feel causes your muscles to tense up and your limbs and body to curl inward. You now feel so close to coming that even a small flick of your clit would make you explode in ecstasy.

The vines in your lower holes follow suit, pushing a load of cum up the stems, forming a pair of cream heavy lumps on the otherwise smooth shafts. You feel the bulbs push past the tightness of your feminine folds and tender ring. Your eyes fly open and your heart seems to stop for a moment before everything comes crashing down in a final eruption of pleasure.

You yell against the tendril stuffed in your mouth, your body convulsing. Your toes painfully curl. Your hands desperately try and grab at something. But being held by the wrists, all they manage to do is grasp at thin air. The feeling of thick plant spunk blasting your innards and lining your womb makes you thrash uncontrollably with continuing orgasm.

By the time you’re done coming, the tendrils pull out of your flooded holes with a slurp. You collapse against the hammock of the supporting vines, breathing heavily as your try and recover. You feel the slimy film of the plant’s jizz run down the sides of your mouth and your inner thighs.

The tendrils holding you up begin to bring you closer to the flower. They twist you around and rest your back against a petal that rise up like a backrest. You think this is it, that the flower now plans to swallow you whole. But when you feel the vines holding your thighs splay your legs open and push them closer to your chest, you know the plant is just getting started with you.

It angles your lower half slightly upward, giving the monster easier access to your two lower entrances, and raises your arms out of the way above your head.

You stare as two fresh stamens glide their way to your pucker and petals. They rub against the folds and wrinkle teasingly with their smooth shafts. Your body is overwhelmed with need after the pleasure you just experienced and from the sweet nectar your holes have drunk.

You see the green plant spunk flowing out of your upturned holes in copious dollops, knowing you’re probably already stuffed close to the limit. But despite that, you want more. You want every part of your body to drink more of the sweet honey, for every hole to be dripping with more of it. You want to be drowned by this unbelievable pleasure. You almost don’t care about the consequences.