Pull off the vines!

No time to go for the flare pistol. More vines are slithering towards you through the darkness of the ruined greenhouse. You focus all of your efforts on freeing your ankles. One of the tendrils tears open, spilling yellow sap over your fingers and down into your shoe. The viscous liquid squishes between your toes and the sundered vine retreats into the mass writhing around you. One down, one to go.

As you turn your attention to the other vine around your ankle, you feel a probing vine begin to slither around your waist. You twist your hips trying to throw it off you. Instead, you manage to throw yourself off balance. You spill to the ground, reaching out to grab for anything as you fall heavily to your knees and manage to catch a loop of vine. The living tendril reacts to your touch, instantly doubling back and winding around your wrist and into your jacket. It twists up your forearm and around your bicep inside your blouse.

"Damn it!" you cry as it yanks you towards it. The tendril around your waist has a better grip. It wraps around you like a belt and slithers its tip lower, into your tattered skirt and towards the warmth of your mound. It touches your thigh and you gasp, "Bugger off!"

In moments, your desperation becomes hopelessness as a half-dozen more vines wrap around your legs and immobilize your other arm. They begin to exude sap that stings as it touches the many scratches on your legs caused by your fall. Wherever that sap can enter your body, the sharp pain becomes a warm throb and radiates into your flesh. You moan and your lips fall open. You are immediately attacked by another tendril that tries to **** its way into the warm wetness of your mouth.

"Hey do-- mmmmmmphhhhh!"

It's no use, your mouth is stuffed fill of wriggling, rooty tendril dripping a sweet, slippery slime into your mouth. You try not to swallow, but it's no use as the tendril fights its way past your tongue and begins to push in and out of your tender throat. Gagging only gives it further access. The soaking slime immobilizes your reflex and spills its relaxing venom down into your belly.

Defeated, you realize distantly as the vines lift you up and begin to peel away your clothes. You are an instructor and you've been defeated by a lowly vine monster like some Tokyo school girl. The recriminations are forgotten as the vines pop open your bra and wind tightly around your ample breasts. Your nipples stick out rigidly and your ample mounds are squeezed tight in the coils of fibrous tendril. Slippery, slime-leaking tendril tips flick at your sensitive nipples causing you to moan with new pleasure at the tendril fucking its way in and out of your throat.

The last struggle fades from your body and you accept the tendrils peeling away your knickers. Randy ropes wriggle around to your bum, threading between your cheeks and cinching against your tender pucker. Two tainted tips begin to slide against your swollen slit, brushing your aching clit and making you arch against your predatory bonds. The vines chitter in reply and push past your entrance, two simultaneously invading your eager tunnel. They begin to properly fuck you, stretching your tight walls and lubricating themselves with their slippery sap.

"Mmmmmmmmmnnnn!" you cry with pleasure against the tendril in your mouth.

Another tendril slides against your bum and finds your tight arsehole. You're so enthralled by the sweet sap that it hardly takes any effort for the tendril's tip to invade your pucker and begin rooting your arse. Your constricted tits bounce as the tendrils fuck in and out of your holes. You feel a pinch of pain on each nipple and realize the plant has encapsulated your tortured tips in bulbs of translucent purple. These bulbs, sealed tight with slime, begin to rhythmically suck, your nipples moving slightly with each pulse of pressure.

The tendrils begin to throb inside your quim and arse, pumping you feel of waves of plant spunk. It's such a quantity that it overflows your creamy channel and spills down to the floor. It pumps deep into your arse, making you full with the weight of gooey seed. You cum again and again, bucking against the invading plants, but no longer making any effort to escape.

Hours of pleasure follow. Your belly inflates with plant cum, your womb fills with their potent spunk. Your breasts swell around the tendrils binding them and your distended nipples begin to gush milk into the bulbs.

Hours become days and you are relentlessly fucked and milked. No rescue comes, but there is the relief of madness. Driven insane with pleasure, you can only laugh as limp, jelly-like saplings drip from your womb in a painless birth. They disappear into the writhing brambles around you and the fucking continues. Your only sustenance is the sweet sap that fills every hole.

Your only thought is the pleasure that will not end.