Thrash Against The Tendril!

The dozing Venusaur releases another tremendous exhale, rattling the nearby branches and scattering its leaves to the wind. Another reminder of what awaits should your frantic attempts at dislodging your ankle from its viney captor fail. Trembling fingers grip and dig at the leathery appendage to no avail, however, as the vice-like grip denies your digits even an inch of leeway. Unable to get your hand underneath their tight grasp, you've no way to yank free the determined tendril. They reward your fruitless efforts with a tug of their own, dragging you closer to their unaware master.

Not to be out done by their Sneasel grabbing partner, two more tentacles hanging lazily in the air some 5 meters away begin to autonomously drift in your direction. Their leisurely pace makes it obvious that they don't quite understand what the leading vine has caught, though this does very little to calm your racing mind. Shaking hands again dive towards the leathery snare but, perhaps learning from your previous attempt, it tightens the second it feels your touch. The pain of compression is compounded by a violent jerk that has your butt sliding across the forest floor, easily stealing another few feet.

The fresh aching in your leg is suppressed by the withering visual of the vines brethren dangling overhead, barely a stride from your struggling form. Your eyes widen as one of the pair stops a couple feet above your torso, panning its bulb-like 'head' this way and that, almost as if inspecting its quarry. All plans fly out the window when you see that horrid tendril freeze in place, pointed directly at your Panic-stricken face, before launching forth to aid in your capture.

What happens next is naught but a blur of green flesh and dark fur. Acting purely on feral instinct, a blinding slash crosses your vision instantly rebuking the whip-like appendage, sending it to writhe upon the ground. The wounded vine thrashes violently at your denial as you waste little time putting your second clawed hand to use, a quick scratch forcing it to recoil, freeing your trapped leg. The predictable retaliation of the third tentacle is blunted by earth, just barely missing your rolling form. The final act of the vengeful vine is wasted as it clumsily gives chase, only to join its fallen comrades, another practiced swipe ending its pursuit.

Your torso burns in retaliation for the explosion of movement, punishing you for daring to twist away from certain doom. Biting back the pain, you backpedal from the flailing tendrils. The distance garnered from your retreat is enough to land you next to where your bag had been left, as the smooth material rubbing against your ankle would suggest. Reflexively a hand darts for the satchel, but all movement ceases when a single pale eye snaps open, pupil dilated from disturbed slumber. The throes of a sudden waking leave the massive Pokémon as all of its senses begin to report in. Frozen on the spot, you are **** to watch an annoyed grimace devolve into a pained wince as the tentacles complain to their master. His sorrowful expression doesn't last long as those bulbous eyes settle upon the foolish Sneasel standing stupidly out in the open. Those jet-black pupils shrink as all of the feral's focus is directed toward you, the diminutive object of its burning ire.

Rooted as you were from the ice in your veins, the furious bellows of a displeased titan do wonders to remedy your inaction. As the trees shook from the feral’s tantrum, sending countless leaves to rain down from above, a quick heel turn has you snatching up your bag and set to flee in short order. Again the pain in your side bemoans the sudden jerk to motion, but is easily overwhelmed by the adrenaline coursing throughout. As your flight begins, one last look over your shoulder shows the formidable amphibian up on all fours, its trunk sized hinds crashing down hard as it beats a path toward you.

There is no hope for victory against such a beast, you know, and instead all hope is placed upon your agility to see you through this nightmare. As you duck beneath a low hanging branch, the sounds of unfortunate plant-life being decimated in the wake of the infected’s pursuit reach your ears. Daring not to confirm what you know to be true, instead your all but tapped energy is put towards placing as many solid objects as possible between you and a grim fate. Through gritted teeth you grunt away each sting of the Liepards parting gift as you hop upturned roots and squeeze past dense shrubbery. Through bramble and thicket you fly, only ever slowed by the tighter groupings of undergrowth. These, too, are easily navigated, however, your mind working overtime to keep the slowly fading sounds of doom far to your rear.

Thankful that your spritely aptitude for retreat seems to be carrying the day, you begin looking for something, anything that could be used to obscure you from the monster's sight. It wouldn’t need to be for long, you know, just enough to send the beast rushing past to chase phantoms while its quarry pounded dirt in the opposite direction. A simple plan to be sure, but if it was good enough to dupe the finest ranger the ‘illustrious scouts regiment’ had to offer, it would be good enough for an overgrown toad. Furtive glances this way and that eventually spy you a prime example of earthen forestry, the ancient elm reaching high above to pierce the canopy of its lesser neighbors. The timing is good as the racket of the Venusaur’s dogged pursuit has lessened greatly, the infected likely having lost line of sight. Due as much to the dense foliage as to your frantic maneuvering, you are granted the precious moments needed to conceal yourself.

With heavy exhales and burning legs, you break for the mighty tree, quickly reaching a trunk that easily doubles your arm span. Wasting no time, you dive behind the base of the elm just as the great behemoth is heard smashing its way through the last of the obscuring greenery. Your breath catches in your throat as the sounds of the rampaging quadruped nears the trunk you've taken as cover. Doubt in your plan begins to form and is compounded by the image of a timeless elm splintering to bits before a foolish Sneasel is trampled beneath a Venusaur's fury..

It would seem that the big guy had trouble keeping up, as the tumultuous charge suddenly breaks into a roaring skid, the massive hinds tearing up any less than fortunate plant life before coming to a firm halt. You dare not to even fill your lungs as the brute catches his own breath from the chase, and by judging from the proximity, you’d wager barely a tree or two stood between your cover and your end. Moments rolled by as the Venusaur sniffed at the air, occasionally stamping this way and that in search of his slippery quarry. It’s as the burning in your chest becomes too great to ignore and you are **** to refresh the stale oxygen that a heated exhale can be heard from beyond. This is quickly, mercifully, accompanied by the thunderous footfalls trudging away from the base of your tree.

The sigh of relief is held back in favor of discretion, though you cannot deny the flips your heart is doing as those crunches continue to trod further into the brush. The overwhelming sense of salvation has you reclining back against the wood as your hand gives an affectionate pat to the bark, thanking the old timber for saving your hide. Problem is, you don’t remember bark feeling quite so..

… smooth?

A reactive glance down to reveal the source of the odd sensation is all it takes to snuff the vibe. A familiar, freshly scratched vine rests there, motionless under your touch. Recoiling before you can stop yourself, the leathery strip is jostled ever so slightly by your touch. All encompassing silence closes in as the implications of that mistake take root. The breath catches in your throat, and your heart drums heavy in your chest as you remain locked on the offending appendage. The next few moments appear frozen in time, the only indication of your continued autonomy being the persistent pulse ringing in your ears. The tendril cares not, sitting where your hasty retreat had landed it. After awhile of its inaction beneath your panicked gaze, you inch your head around the trunk, hoping against hope that your disturbance has gone unnoticed.

It has not.

Peering around your cover, a single violet side eye, cast over the behemoth's shoulder, is waiting to greet you. A dreadful moment of calm is shared between the two of you, a cruel grin creasing the giant's lips, the only clue you'd not been frozen in time. His pale pupil shrinks, almost daring you to move first. Without thinking, you oblige him and the storm follows.

Your legs curl tight and are beneath you in a blink, propelling you up and ready to abandon the tree for new cover. It is the Venusaur’s turn to act, though, and with surprising haste is able to whip another vine around the trunk to aid the first in blocking your escape. Two of the fleshy tendrils now snap about before you, denying the undergrowth beyond. To make matters worse, the sounds of greenery shattering underneath merciless footfalls confirms that the feral is turning, likely in preparation for another charge. Sturdy as your chosen tree was, that monster had torn through worse to track you this far. With the path forward blocked, desperation drives your focus skyward.

Once more the canopy has the answer; once more it holds your salvation, as peering up into the darkened sky reveals a possible way out. High above hangs a formidable branch, weaving and twisting between its neighbors limbs to provide a chance to a doomed tree cat. If you could get above the infected, beyond the reach of those vines and far from sight, you might just have a chance. Tracing the bark down to its trunk places the tree roughly 40 feet from your own, easily out of sprinting range.

But you weren't built for running.

With no more time to ponder alternatives, you spin in place, exposing your back to a stinging crack from one of the vengeful tendrils. Thankfully pain had been its goal rather than capture, as unthinking self-preservation drives your legs to push hard against the earth, launching you away from the second vine whip. A barrage of subsequent strikes chase you up the trunk, each bark rending snap only inches behind your retreat. Your agile frame proves the faster though, and every failed attack connects farther behind your scrambling ascent. The tangle of branches, your sole lifeline hanging on high, is coming closer all the time.

12 meters… 10 meters.. 6 meters..!

*CRRRAASH*

Caught in mid leap as you are, there is no time to react as the massive timber unexpectedly rushes forth to meet you, bashing hard against your chest and destroying any momentum that had been built. Stars ran about hazy vision as the struggle to **** air back into the battered lungs it had been **** from finally ends with you taking a ragged gulp. Sense is slower to return though, likely due to the fresh welt on your forehead, and you are left to piece together what had happened and why you hadn’t yet fallen to a grim fate. Half lidded eyes peer up to find your right hand, claw unsheathed, embedded into the ailing bark. Blind instinct once more saves the day, though any relief to be found is quickly snuffed as a flurry of angry vine cracks tear at the wood just below your dangling hindpaws.

As a clumsy attempt is made to wrench your stuck claws, the panic stricken glance you cast downward catches sight of not 2 tendrils but now all three clobbering the bark below you. It would seem that you’ve managed to out run their range, though the more pressing sight is far below. Just above the root system of this once impressive elm now runs a jagged break, nearly bisecting the base of the tree. The splintering cleave crackles at every sway of the weighty branches above, a telltale sign of imminent collapse. It is then that the malicious grin of your oppressor saddles around and into view, the fresh bruise on his broad forehead doing nothing to dampen his grim determination. His purple orbs only hold you long enough to confirm your position before they retreat back out of view, almost certainly in preparation of another terrible head-butt. With the state of the tree as it is now, there was no chance of it surviving another hit…

With this sobering thought fresh in your mind, you renew your struggles to tug free your trapped appendage. The footfalls of your foe are heard to dissipate faster and further than before, ensuring that his next charge would seal your fate. Exhaustion and the ever present pain in your side dog your efforts, though the growing fear of non-existence is a hell of a motivator. Swearing against the fire burning your torso, you finally manage to tear your wayward limb loose, just as a low bellow sounds the coming siege. Eager as you are to continue your ascent, the newest addition to your growing collection of injuries clouds your senses. The throbbing lump between your eyes punishes your rapid movements with waves of nausea, making tightened motor control all but impossible. Still… you manage to clear another few meters before-

*KAACK-KOORRASSH!!*

Being ready for the second impact doesn’t make it any less devastating and it's all you can do to cling to the thrashing bark, barely maintaining a claw hold on the doomed wood. Popping strains of heartwood sound along with the groaning of roots being torn from their subterranean homes signal the final vestiges of structural integrity failing. A pleading glance toward the canopy confirms what you’d prayed would not be the case, that the lowest hanging branches were still a few meters above, just out of a **** jump's reach. The view from your perilous perch begins to slowly pitch forward, giving your eyes an increasingly angled perspective of the forest as they scan for any alternatives.

Terror begins to consume your hammering heart as you prepare for the fall, eyes trying to predict the path of the leaning log. That’s when you see it. Without wasting another second, you set your legs to motion and drive them hard against the tilted wood, ironically resuming your journey to the ‘top’ of the tree. You focus on your new goal, originally too far to reach from this elm’s longest branches, another line of trees had ringed around your chosen cover. If your guess was correct, the falling elm would stretch out just enough for one last ditch leap to the distant thicket and to the freedom they promised. The elm was falling faster now, your climb becoming a run before you’d even noticed, and with all the strength left in your battered form, you drove yourself hard to the tumbling tree top and… LEAPT!

It had been a good jump, your lead paw planting firm as its partner rushed passed to harness the momentum of your run. In an instant you were airborne, whipping past falling leaves and twigs, all while the wind pulled at your matted fur. With all the blood pumping in your ears, you couldn’t hear the vicious roar emanating from your lungs, your staunch denial of the plans this savage world had for you. It had been a good jump, and if your directionless aim holds true, you’d remain on course for the outstretched limb before you. You were close now, and getting closer, though the **** of your leap had begun to fade. Your right hand reaches out closing those last few inches, and though it was going to be by the skin of your teeth you just might..!

*Thwip THWICKTT!!*

Two emerald green lashes whiz by, the first glancing just the side of your precious branch. The second does the devils work, cleanly whipping through the branch, just as your fingers snap shut around it. Breath catches in your chest as shocked eyes settle on the deep gash left retreating vines swung from somewhere below. For one merciful moment, you feel the wounded branch resist the pull of your added weight… before reality comes calling once more…

It had been a good jump…

Whatever sounds of dread your panic-stricken mind chooses for an epitaph are lost in the rapturous calamity of undergrowth being crushed beneath the once awe inspiring elm. Limbs flail in all directions as you tumble in dizzying freefall, though they find no purchase in the maelstrom of leaves and splintered wood. Somewhere below and rapidly closing was the unforgiving ground, ready to catch a screaming Sneasel before sending it on to the hereafter. One coherent thought forms in your fleeting moments, and it is the grim hope that whatever you hit is hard enough to make it quick…

No such luck, you find, as the impact that promised to usher you on to the next life never comes, Rather it never comes in the way you expect, as when your back finally connects with something other than the rushing air, it is a soft, compliant material that absorbs your fall. Despite the plush sensation now cushioning your form, the speed of your flight still finds you sinking a fair bit into this oddly accommodating entity. Ragged lungs, raw from the screams of a previously condemned tree cat, now work at a fever pitch to fill themselves and fight back the inertia induced nausea. When at last your body is convinced it still lives, you pry yourself from the spongy padding and attempt to bring your legs back in line below. With more than a few wobbles, the world is once again right side up though most of it remains obscured by the strange yellow ridge that encircles your impact site.

You don’t notice it at first, likely still in shock as you are from the fall, but slowly the bitter flavour of unknown origin settles upon your pallet. Eager breaths gave way to a few cautious sniffs as it became clear that something clouds the air, each gulp far thicker than you remember the night time breeze to which you were accustomed. Though this foreign element was lost on you, what was far more apparent were its effects. Your quivering legs had grown so unstable that you would subconsciously glance down to see to their care. What you hadn’t expected to see was the furiously pulsing length of feline pride bouncing up to greet you. The tainted air catches in your throat as the obscene display takes you completely by surprise. Mind racing, **** to answer the ‘why’ behind the hardest erection you could remember, it’s not long before it makes the connection to the **** haze that surrounds you. The realization has you half way over the rim of what you pray isn’t what you think it is.

The dreadful confirmation comes as a vicious slap across the chin by a rushing tentacle, driving you back into the waiting embrace of its two counterparts. The struggle is a fierce one but ultimately proves futile, as in mere moments your limbs are bound behind your back and you’re **** to kneel within the now writhing flower. Tugging against the vines with what's left of your dwindling strength amounts to little more than a gasping maw, allowing more of those insidious fumes to burn your loins all the hotter. Winded and with all energy totally spent, you can feel your resistance dying out, your body going limp soon after. The coming fatigue numbs the pain in your side and aches in your muscles that had tried so hard to help you escape your fate. Breathing the potent aphrodisiac, it’s not long before all you can register is the soft beating of your heart and the pump of desire each sent through your drooling member.

At least until those vines intervene…

You’d have been content to let the pollen carry away your reason, to allow the spicy sweet odor to rob you of all sense and instinct to soften the blow of your eventual devourment. Your feral captor would have other plans as it turns out. **** as you are by the natural inhalant, you barely register the tendril that snakes its way beneath your tail feathers, driving itself beyond your relaxed anal ring without so much as a warning prod. The sensation isn’t all that unpleasant and it wiggles gently against your inner walls, finding ever more of your depths to explore. What did snap you out of the spore laced daze was the feeling of your oh so needy erection being swallowed up in one quick go by another vine. Your flustered expression turns to regard the offending tentacle to find that its cap had widened, revealing a small orifice at its tip that had wasted no time in claiming your twitching length.

The sudden pressure that now squeezed your maleness caused your lips to part with a wanton gasp of white hot lust. Normally such brazen carnality would embarrass you to no end, though what coursed through your veins dampened whatever shame you’d had, allowing the haughty moans to roll free. At least until the third and final tentacle joined the party, roughly lodging itself deep into your groaning maw. The pitiful scene was finally complete and your eyelids drooped low in response to all three of the appendages setting a slowly building pace of thrusts and retreats…

Injured as they are from your earlier fracas, the vines do a solid number on your holes; the lower plunging hard against your sensitive walls, the upper capitalizing on the resultant moans to stretch your throat wider. Not to be outdone by its twins, the vine working your shaft pistons hard, the membranous sleeve running its ribbed internals along your desperately throbbing erection. With such an onslaught battering your already impaired mind, its no surprise when you feel your bouncing orbs begin to tighten for the coming release. Sensing your imminent submission to their devious ministrations, all three invaders quicken their pace, obviously hungry for everything you have to offer…

“Gggrrraaaahhhh…~”

A contented sigh shook the limbs of every surrounding evergreen as the lounging Venusaur absorbed the latest ‘offering’ from his groaning prisoner. The pale eyed feral enjoyed the fruits of his labor each time the puny creature put up a token struggle before releasing another nutrient rich admission of defeat. That’s not to say the little pest didn’t make him earn it, oh no. The great lizard could scarcely remember a time when he’d had this much trouble with so insignificant a morsel. Granted, the virus addled creature could barely remember what pokemon he’d eaten for lunch the day prior, but the point still stood.

As the last of the cat’s third **** orgasm was milked from its cute member, the vine that had been tasked with muffling the prey’s more vocal protests prepared to release another ‘reward’ for the Sneasels donation. A potent mixture of thick, surgery sap and liquid stimulants were pumped into the gagging maw of his latest capture, its gooey texture steadily making its way down the cat's throat. Though it was likely that the runt was too far gone to notice, he might have appreciated that the concoction contained none of the infectious material that made the massive green beast what he was. That kind of power would be wasted on such a pathetic creature, after all. The hulking infected nuzzled into his forelegs and began to doze off. The corrupted Pokemon would let his wounded vines extract their vengeance all throughout the night and when the sun rose upon the withered form of a Sneasel drained of anything of worth…

..Well, the little thing could at least serve as a nice bit of breakfast before another day of hunting~