The last Fuck

The woman 'stood' helplessly inside the tube created by the flower, squeezed in place. She felt like prey being eaten alive by a predator. And there was the wet flowery tongue-like thing, rattling down there by her legs, stimulating her pussy somehow despite there feeling like there was no room to maneuver at all. Her arms and legs were pinned in place with great **** from the inward squeezing, but the 'tongue' slithered down there, and even got between the legs as if friction was only a suggestion. It seemed like it was heavily lubricated, and was going to enter whatever it desired to. She attempted to whimper, but she was too heavily constricted and could only make a shallow breath at a great expense of energy. The long soggy violator hanging around her legs slithered upwards, leaving a trail of its' smooth lubricant.

It coiled several times around the leg, leaving a considerable amount of the fluid. It brushed into the fuckmeat's womanly entrance, and without hesitation, slipped right inside. The fuckmeat got its last wind, making a loud cry as a response to the unnatural feeling of an invader simply sliding right into her. She used the last of her energy, and it was used up in an instant in a barely noticeable shuffle. She could barely breath.

The flower tongue went deep inside her womb, and upon reaching a limit, did like its brethren had done. It moved back and forth, this time, licking her from the inside with wet and sloppy sounds almost as loud as a slap. She was helpess. It moved unpredictably, back and forth, rolling around, violently tasting every inner inch it could.

And in those moments, a liquid began slowly entering into the claustrophobic chamber holding the fuckmeat, warm and gooey. Too preoccupied with her predicament, she didn't notice how the liquid began absorbing her, dissolving her until she was nothing other than a part of the plant.