Scream for help

You know there is no sense in fighting the thing. The only thing you can do is raise your voice and scream for help. You don’t care who comes—orcs, goblins—it doesn’t matter. You have a better chance of fighting off one of them than this man-eating plant.

“Help! Somebody! Please, hel—!” you manage to scream out 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 a mind blowing release. You give yourself to the pleasure, willing the orgasm to come and steal your mind away. Just as you are about to surrender your last bit of will to the living plant, you hear a shout behind you.

“Let this demon know the curse that it would itself bestow on man!” a chant echoes through the forest as it quickly approaches you. Your eyes go open and you see a figure dash towards you. Flashes of light spark around you, and you feel the strength of the vines holding you up give out. You fall to the ground with a thud. The tendrils that are wrapped around your body and imbedded in your holes remain in place, but you notice they’re no longer attached to the giant flower. They simply flail around wildly, severed from the body by burnt ends.

You manage to look up, seeing the pink flower now engulfed in flame. An otherworldly screech echoes from the plant as the fires blacken its petals.

You turn your attention beside you, seeing a cloaked figure kneel next to you. Your savor reaches out and pulls at the vines still clinging to your body. You cough when the one in your mouth pops free and hear a slurp when the ones in your quim and asshole are pulled out.

You try and get your bearings straight, your mind still swimming from the effects of the flower’s narcotic nectar.

“I’m sorry I didn’t arrive faster. I heard you yell, but it took a bit to find you through all this vegetation,” a soft, kind sounding voice of a man says. You feel the man lift your head up and support it on his lap. Your vision grows blurrier by the second, the effects of the plant’s juices taking their toll. You can’t make out the man’s face through the shadow of his hood and your worsening sight. You try and reach your shaking hand to his face.

“Thanks you,” you manage to whisper as you touch his face. Your consciousness leaves your body as you stroke his cheek. The feeling of soft fur is the last thing your fingers feel before the effects of the flower’s poison make everything go dark.