You enter the chamber

Surely a peek couldn’t hurt, if only to assuage your curiosity. The storeroom may even have something you can use. You feel positively elated at these justifications and turn back around to peek through the door.

The storeroom is unusually dark. You know all such rooms have a small window that does allow the faintest bit of light through, but it seems to be blocked off by something. You wander inside, sniffing the air, led like a dog by the nose deeper inside. The scent is stronger within and fills you with a heaviness you cannot quite fathom. Her foot scrapes something across the floor and looking down, you see that soil has been spilled over the stone. Now you remember! This room is used by the groundskeeper to store her extra supplies. You remember her well. Sister Brigette was one of the more private sisters of the cloister. Older, more reserved, she had grown up in the cloister, her brown hair a familiar sight beneath her habit, stark among the rainbow of the flowers she cultivated, tending the gardens permanently while the other sisters did so only as chores. It was under her patient doting that the roses for which the abbey were so well renowned bloomed every year, and her who when spring came at last would be tirelessly working on the plots to bring forth the new greens. She had even been nicknamed Aellium after the goddess of fertility and bounty.

Yet, you had no idea she had been working on something so grand. Your eyes had slowly become adjusted to the gloom, and thanks to them, you can see what had blocked the light. A huge plant grows from a large pile of fertilizer and soil dumped in the rear of the room. Its vine’s crawl and reach all over the cell, anchoring it securely to the wall. The vines swarm from beneath the soil. At the end of many are rigid looking bulbs. Many of these have bloomed revealing a lurid black, and from these the scent which drew you in seems to exude as thickly as incense smoke. You inhale this air some more, adoring its heady musk, but then you look down and feel alarm.

You found sister Brigette.

She hangs from the wall, naked save a few rags where her clothes were torn from her, tethered and supported by the vines you had seen before which, to your disgust, you can see have burrowed into her skin! Her feet dangle over the ground and she leans slightly forward, but who could blame her, for her breasts, always large, are now bloated and immense, dribbling a thick, creamy liquid into the soil her toes nearly brush. As you look down you shudder, for now you see between her damp legs the vine which has impaled your sister’s cunt. You look back up and see, looming high over her, is an immense bloom, black as all the others, yet its petals veined with a red colour that chills your very soul. It seems to be watching your sister in its grasp with satisfaction. It is this which had been blocking out the light.

You rush forward, caution and arousal forgotten. “Brigette!” you cry and grab her by the shoulders. She makes no reply, her eyes closed, but she breathes, deeply as if asleep. You feel like crying as you try to shake her, but she is held immobile by the vines in her skin. “Sister! Sister, don’t worry. I’ll free you. Here. Sister.” You grab her and try to pull her off the wall. The vines creak and she moves, but there is little give. In your desperation you grab the parasitic vines and tear them out with your bare hands. They resist, for a moment, but your strength prevails and you tear several from your sister’s skin. The holes left behind secrete a sickening looking sap. “Goddess.” You shudder as you rip more from her body.

Finally, the vines have insufficient strength to support their load, and Brigette falls from their grip and into your arms. Her breasts squish against your own, leaving a trail of the thick fluid as you lower her to the soil. Goddess she is heavy! You squat and hold her, propped up, but that is all. Your arms feel so weak and sweat stains your skin, itching in the flower’s perfume. You gasp for breath and tilt back Brigette’s head, her hair falling over your arm. You shudder, for now that she is down, you can see her skin has developed a slight greenish cast.

You gently slap her cheeks. “Brigette? Brigette, oh goddess, please be alright. Brigette?”