The Latex Bloom
by Cordelia Speedicutindex:
Part 1"Over here, Cynthia. These are definitely my most interesting specimens," Auntie Anne called, as she stopped in front of several potted vines.
I was under-whelmed. My Aunt had just come back from a solo botanical expedition to the upper Amazon, and she was showing off her exotic finds. Sure, she looks all Laura Croft, but instead of gold she brings back ... shrubberies. Some of the other plants in her big backyard greenhouse were kind of cool, if you like that kind of thing, but these ones were distinctly boring. They smelled nice enough, but they didn't even have flowers.
Auntie Anne must have read my mind, because she added, "I encountered a tribe of Indians who claimed these plants have the most magnificent blossoms in the whole rain forest. They begged me to show them where I'd found them."
I caught my cousin hiding a smile. Megan, who is also my best friend, knew I didn't share my Aunt's love of botany. Since Megan and her mother had moved out of the city, I only got to visit them for the summer holidays and, like now, over the Christmas break. This just seemed like a waste of precious time that could be spent hanging out at the mall.
"I can't find anything about it in the literature," continued Auntie. "I don't think it has ever been seen or named outside the jungle, but I'll have to wait until it flowers, to be sure. I'm hoping to write a paper on it."
Right, terrific, I thought. But then I felt obliged to pretend I liked the plants Auntie Anne was studying, just to be polite, and so a few days later I ended up bringing one home with me. Auntie said she wanted to see how well it did out on the coast.
It seemed to do very well, thank you, in my bedroom. It grew quickly, and got so big Mom teased me about it eating me, if I wasn't careful. Daddy just said it smelled bad. I thought the scent was quite pleasant, and I even built it a trellis. Then at the end of May, about three weeks before the finish of the school year, it put out a single green bud.
A few days later, the lone bud had grown unusually large and was developing a creamy colour. When I climbed out of bed on the third day, it didn't look any different. Disappointed, I showered and then padded downstairs for breakfast, wrapped in my fluffy robe. There was no rush. My parents had to be out the door by eight, but we lived so close to school that I could take my time. Plus, it was much easier to wear whatever I wanted if I waited until Mom had gone to work.
Once I was alone, I wandered back upstairs. The flower had opened in my absence, and now my room was filled with a sweet, musky fragrance. Auntie's jungle informants had been right - this thing was beautiful. It was also humungous.
Its pretty petals were all fleshy and pink and red, like an orchid; and now that they had unfurled, they revealed in the centre ... well, I remembered from Auntie's frequent lectures that it was called the pistol, the bit with the pollen that bees would brush against. Only I'd never seen one so big. It was the size of my forearm, with ropy red ridges along the length of it, and it had a ruffled fat knob on the end the size of my closed fist. The knob had an odd slit at the top, which was oozing nectar or something.
I had no idea why I felt all warm and tingly. I only knew that the big blossom's scent was delightful, so much so that I had to kneel beside it and lean right in close to take a deep whiff. I was definitely warm now. My face and chest began to flush, and I found my robe unbearably confining. I let it slide to the floor and rolled my head with pleasure, shaking my hair out over my bare back. Yes, that felt much better.
About this point my nipples were getting stiff, and I started to idly play with them. My moistening pussy was itching now, too - not a physical itch but a burning, aching need that demanded attention. I leaned back to rest against foliage that hadn't been there a few moments before, and began to finger myself.
As I wiggled one and then two digits in my pussy, I took no notice whatever of the vines moving around my ankles and thighs, or of the tendrils entwining my shoulders and waist. And when, together, they lifted me bodily off the ground, I had no idea but to feed the waves of pleasure breaking through me - by now my fingers were churning as far inside of me as I could reach. I groaned with pleasure, and still it was not enough.
Even when the great blossom itself rose up of its own accord in front of me, my only thought was: Hey! I'll bet that thing could reach deeper! I suddenly knew that I needed to feel that fat pistol inside my pussy, and the sooner the better. I spread my thighs eagerly, ignoring the nest of twisting vines that now supported and enclosed me. The flower seemed to respond to my lust, the head of its obscene vegetable wang slowly approaching my drooling virgin pussy. When it was only a few inches away, it stopped, and then, as I whimpered in anticipation, a thin tendril slid out of the slit at the thing's tip. It looked like a lizard's tongue. It felt like a tongue, too, as it slid moistly around my crotch before finally slipping between my lust-swollen lips. I felt it probe my hymen, and then break through; but the short, sharp pain served only to briefly satisfy my insistent itch.
I hadn't long to wait - the main bulk of that organ now began to press against my opening. For a short moment, I actually was afraid it wouldn't fit - but my pussy flesh stretched wider than I believed possible and suddenly the thing was squeezing inside me. Immediately, I discovered the function of all those ruffles and ridges. Every little lump and bump was a fresh surprise and a fresh delight.
Now I was afraid that it wouldn't ALL fit. I needn't have worried. As I moaned in pleasure, the thing ground its way forward until at last the cool, silky petals caressed my bottom. Foggily, I realized the entire thing was deep inside me. Suddenly my body stiffened and shook as my first orgasm took me. Although I had played with myself from time to time, this was beyond anything I had ever experienced. Nothing seemed to exist but the overwhelming ecstasy that was focused on my core. I know I must have thrashed and screamed, but I don't recall any of that - only the echoes of that monumental come.
I have no idea how long it lasted - hours, maybe - but my next memory is of floating, my breathing still ragged, and becoming aware that the flower's organ was now thrusting methodically in and out of me. I think it must have waited until I had nearly regained consciousness to start simulating me again. That ribbed shaft was certainly doing the trick. My pussy, sopping with my juices, squished loudly with each stroke. Just before I started to come again, the organ stopped and I felt another odd new sensation. Something was probing the sensitive entrance to my womb ... and then I felt that tongue-like tendril force its way inside.
As soon as it was in my uterus, the thing began to stiffen and swell, as it proceeded to fuck me, deep in my core. After a few minutes, the main bulk of the blossom's tool was forcing its knob into my newly spread womb-mouth. I remember thinking, this is gonna hurt, but it didn't. The thing just rested there, a moment, and then the entire plant gave a great spasm. I could feel a huge pulse run along the shaft inside me, a moving bulge that stretched my pussy lips wider than ever and then spurted deep into my womb. As that first load was delivered, I finally climaxed again. My pussy clamped down hard on its guest but, regardless, another powerful burst forced its way inside me. And then yet another - again and again, more warm liquid was pumped into my swelling womb. I felt the pressure of it building in my belly, but only a tiny trickle found its way back to ooze out of my pulsating pussy.
At last it stopped. I shuddered as the shaft withdrew. When the fat knob of it finally popped free, it paused and then pressed forward again as if to re-enter me. Dazed and hanging limp in the grip of the vines, I watched and waited as it trembled and began to swell again, and then it abruptly fired a large red blob straight into my hole, like a cork in a bottle.
The next thing I recall is waking up to find myself on my bedroom floor. I was stiff, and the sun was shining on my face. It must have been early afternoon. From where I lay, I could see the flower. It was furled, and looked just like it had when I woke up that morning. What the hell had just happened? If anything - maybe it had all been a fantastic dream. But I remembered things - impossible things. I sat up carefully. Oh-my-God! I now had a little potbelly. It felt full, down there, and I shuddered as I thought of the floods of flower-cum. Looking further down, at my tender pussy, I discovered a red rubbery mass protruding an inch or two from between my legs. Carefully, I touched it. Something moved, deep inside me, and I snatched my hand away. It was alive!
I knew I should be panicking - some sort of creature was lodged in my body. But instead, I reached down between my thighs again, and sort of snuck up on the thing, sliding my hand across my mound and over my swollen clit. Then, ever so gently, I slid my fingertip across the slick skin of whatever it was that was sticking out of my pussy.
It began wriggle, but not randomly. I could feel its inner end move, stretching and then contracting, so that it was pushing in and out, probing even deeper than before. I began to moan. It seemed to respond by massaging me inside - somewhere remarkably sensitive. I gasped and fell back as a fresh orgasm swept through me.
When my body relaxed, I lay quietly and thought. This was crazy. I was supposed to be in Miss Stacey's classroom, and instead I was lying on the floor of my bedroom, having just been fucked by my own shrubbery ... and then fucked again by this thing, whatever it was. Nobody would believe any of it, and if I showed anyone, they would think I was some kind of freak. I'd probably end up being studied by the government in Area 51, or something.
Carefully I got to my feet, and waddled unsteadily across the room to lean on my bedpost. I had to stop a couple of times to catch my breath, because the red thing inside me was still wriggling, and I was starting to get excited again. Looking down, I saw that three or four inches worth of it was now hanging free of my pussy's grip. I reached down and, taking firm hold of the slippery thing, gave it a tug. It was well and truly stuck. I let go, and gave it a thoughtful stare.
Then I grabbed a mirror from my dresser and lay down on my back, so that I was doubled right up - my feet over my shoulders, and my nose as close to my pussy as I could get it. With the help of the mirror, I proceeded to give my crotch an inspection. The blob was maybe two inches across where it projected from my pussy. I tried slipping a finger between it and my stretched inner lips, and found I could only get it in a half-inch or so before something blocked me. I pried the gap open and discovered that the thing was not just stuck in there - it was fused. All around it was smooth skin, a gradual transition from pink Cynthia flesh to red blob hide. It wasn't just stuck - it was attached to me.
And yet my pussy wasn't gone, exactly. I could feel the thing writhing around inside there, rubbing my pussy walls and pressing various secret places in a very pleasant way.
But there was more yet. I tried prodding the projecting knob with the mirror handle, and ... ouch! I could feel the touch of it. I poked some more - gently now - and found that, for about an inch beyond what was definitely the pink edge of me, the red surface of the blob was as sensitive as my own pussy lips!
I finally stopped poking, and as I watched, the projecting part of the thing changed shape to something that resembled a rubbery moist tongue, which curled up and proceeded to lap at my clittie. Ten minutes later I found myself lying on my bed, panting, with my hands clutching my quilt in white-knuckled intensity. God, but that had been a good one.
It was definitely time to take stock (Actually, it was probably time to scream, but I'd only just done that with my most recent orgasm, and it somehow didn't seem necessary now.) One: A living blob was stuck in my pussy. Two: It wasn't just stuck ... it was starting to become me. I could feel a touch on its surface for - eek! - an inch-and-a-half, now. Three: Only a band around its middle seemed to be attached to me, just inside my pussy lips. Its ends stuck out both inside and outside of me; and they were free to stretch and to change shape. Four: Whatever the thing was made of, inside, could apparently flow through it from end to end - because sometimes nearly all of it was either in or out. Five: it was determined to get me off.
I spent the rest of the afternoon trying desperately to control my body, first just to walk, and later to try to hide the fact that I was being kept in a constant state of arousal. I found that if I tried to block out the sensations, I always ended up with another orgasm of screaming intensity. That wasn't so bad, but not the sort of thing a nice girl did in front of her parents at the dinner table.
The best thing was to relax and ride them out. I still got kind of spacey, at the peaks, but I knew I could tell my mother I was having some cramping. I'd have to get a note for school, anyway.
Not long after three o'clock, the phone rang. It was Megan. "Cyn! Thank goodness, you're back from school. Don't go to into your bedroom!"
"Umm ... I think you're too late," I replied, looking down at the red knob below my mound.
"Did the flower...?"
"And the red dildo thing?"
I laughed out loud at the accurate description. "Yeah."
"Oh. Well, Mamma says not to worry. She's studying it now. We should be fine."
Actually, up until now, I had only been worried about hiding it. Now I realized there might be more trouble ahead. Geez - hadn't her Aunt been studying the thing since back in December? Then I did a mental double take ... Meg had said 'we'.
"Both of us. Mamma called me out to the greenhouse this morning, to show me the new blossoms, and then there was that perfume, and ..." She trailed off.
"Yeah," I repeated.
"It'll be OK. We'll come and get you at the end of the month, as soon as school is out. Umm, Mamma says you probably shouldn't wear underwear."
"You know, panties. Or jeans, either. She thinks the dildo has to breath through its skin. Oh, my God!"
"It's just ... I guess you know. It's about to get me over, again. I'll call you back if we find out anything more. Woo! See ya soon!"
It was a long three weeks. My dildo kept me in a nearly constant state of arousal, teasing me right to the edge, and then backing off, over and over, until I would finally reach orgasm. After a brief chance to rest, it started all over again. I was always flushed, and slightly bowlegged. Plus I always had to wear the same skirt. It was the only one I owned that was long enough not to show off my new friend whenever I sat down. (How do Scotsmen get away with kilts?) And, instead of a blouse, I had to wear a loose sweatshirt to conceal my nipples, because they were always as hard as marbles. And they were so sensitive! I couldn't even bear the thought of wearing a bra.
Oh, and speaking of sensitive - I forgot to mention that within a few days I had feeling over the whole surface of my new addition. What touched it, I felt, and what it touched, I felt, too. And it felt damn fine, thank you - both inside of me and out. Sometimes I'd stroke it, just because it felt so nice, and it would stiffen and grow. Then I'd pull on it (and wonder if boys did this, too), while inside the other end was doing me. Talk about double your pleasure!
I soon found that I could control it, a bit– swing it back and forth and around about, even stretch it out and touch stuff. It was practically prehensile. After some practice I found I could wrap it around my fingers, that sort of thing. And I didn’t have to look to know what I was feeling. But if I didn’t do something with it that was sufficiently stimulating, it would start in on its own program. Like, for instance, when I first managed to get it to pick up a pencil (in the privacy of my bedroom, of course), it suddenly dropped the thing and snaked under me to poke its tip inside my bum.
Meanwhile, it was growing. As the days passed, more of it was sticking out of me, more of the time. And it was getting fatter, too, although it was hard to tell at first ... it happened gradually, and anyway, the thing was switching from long-and- skinny to short-and-fat all the time, as it worked at getting me off.
School was particularly tough. Between the weird clothes and my odd behaviour, I felt like everyone must be looking at me. And whenever the thing inside me put me over the edge, I thought, how could they not know I'm in the grips of a major come? The trouble was, the idea my friends and teachers might actually know I was coming made it all the hotter. I'd look at them, and wonder if Sally's tits were padded or real, or if April's long tongue was rough like a kitten's; and I'd wonder if Mr. Clark, the gym teacher, had a cock as big as mine. It was nearly impossible to think of anything but sex.
Meanwhile, my dildo was always squirming. Even the baggy sweatshirt wasn't enough to hide all the activity in my lap - I had to pretend to take up knitting, of all things. Mostly, I lay low. I kept mostly to myself at recess and lunch; I begged out of Gym class with 'girl' problems, although I still had to sit in the bleachers (and ogle Mr. Clark). Luckily, there's never much work to do at the end of the year. The few times Miss Stacey called on me to answer a question in class, I could only stammer out something inane. I was completely unfocused - I felt really dumb. Sort of like Wendy, the blond girl at the back of the room who never seemed to be listening. I'd think about her, too - wonder if she was dreaming about someone sucking her clit, or maybe had something shoved up her twat. Which was a bit uncharitable, considering my own situation, given that I‘d soon be whispering, “Oh my God, here it comes again!”
Every day I would pull off my clothes, as soon as I got home - my top to get it off my nipples, and my skirt to get better access to my clit. Then I would make up for all the orgasms I had somehow managed to bottle up during the day. When I had to come out of my bedroom for dinner, on went the dumpy clothes again. My mother just told my father I was going through a phase. I was always hungry and ready for bed by eight. Then, it was a major relief to strip off once more. I slept naked, with the heat turned up and my bedding thrown off. Luckily, my dildo seemed to sleep when I did, but it was stimulating me again bright and early every morning.
I could hardly wait to get back to Auntie's and find out what was happening to me.Part 2
Finally, Megan and Auntie Anne arrived to take me away for the summer. As soon as I saw them, I recognized the symptoms - the gunslinger walk, the flushed faces and bright eyes, and the bottled sexual tension. And the same odd wardrobe - long skirts and long loose tops. 'God,' I thought, 'I must look just like that'. They only stayed long enough for a cup of tea, with the excuse that we still had a two-hour drive ahead of us. Even then, I was sure I saw Megan come once, right there at the table, and my Aunt was in the bathroom much longer than should have been strictly necessary.
I made mom promise to water Antonio (he was my first - I had to call him something) and soon we were off down the highway, with me in the back with Megan. She and I shared a long hug, which, given our high level of excitation, was naturally followed by a rather wet kiss. Then I pulled free and asked my burning question. "What the hell is going on?"
"The plants I brought from the Amazon - it seems this is how they reproduce," said Auntie Anne.
I had pretty well guessed as much, but I was still alarmed to hear my fears confirmed. "You mean they've planted seeds in us?"
"Not exactly. We've only seen male flowers."
"Flowers have sex?"
"These ones sure do," giggled Megan. She had already shed her baggy shirt, and her hard nipples stood out like pencil erasers. I slid down in my seat and quickly followed suit. I wanted to throw my sweatshirt out the window.
Auntie Anne continued, patiently. "The flowers had no stamens - those are the female bits. So what they put inside us must be pollen. Sort of like plant sperm. I think they use our eggs to help make ... whatever it is that's growing in us."
I got a sudden nasty chill. "Like in 'Alien'?"
"No, no. I don't think so. Those Amazonian Indians I met seem to almost worship this plant. It's extremely rare. They were very happy I'd found them some. The new growth is probably sustained largely by nutrients in the plant's ejaculate."
I looked expectantly to Meg, who translated. "She means, whatever's in here" - she patted her own slightly swollen bare belly - "is fuelled by flower jism."
"And the dildo thing?" I refrained from calling it my cock, which is what it now felt like.
"Now that really is interesting," said Auntie, warming to the topic. "I think the plant and the slug are symbiotic. It may be a kind of slime mould."
"Ugg!" I lifted my skirt to give my own slug a hard stare. It seemed to know I was looking, and slid inside me as far as it could manage. "Oof," I added, as it started to wriggle deep inside me.
"The thing is, they need each other," explained Auntie. "The slug gets a nice warm place to live and plenty to eat."
“It most likely absorbs vaginal secretions.”
I turned to Meg, again. “Mamma thinks it lives on pussy juices. That’s why we don’t explode,” she snickered.
"As I was saying, the slug gets what it needs, thanks to the help of the plant, and in return it stimulates us to produce the right levels of hormones in our bodies, which the baby plant somehow needs. I suspect the slug passes its spores along to the new plant."
The stimulation from my own needy dildo (it might be slippery but I refused to think of it as a slimy slug) was making my bum squirm in my seat, and Megan leaned down close to my pussy to get a closer look at it. The heat of her gaze added fuel to the fire and I knew I was going to come soon. Meg knew it, too, and began to suck gently on my rock hard clit.
I had never before done, or thought about doing anything sexual with Meg, or any other girl (or even boys, much) ... at least, not until three weeks before. But now, like the kisses, it just seemed natural. And, at that moment, it came none too soon. As the long postponed orgasm swept over me, I let out a long wail. The car swerved violently, throwing up a plume of dust as it came to a halt by the side of the road.
"For God's sake," exclaimed Auntie Anne. "It's all I can do to drive as it is!"
We girls waited in the back seat, hunched down to hide our nakedness (our long skirts having also been shed in the last few minutes). Cars flew steadily past, while Auntie frigged herself over the edge. "Yes! Yes!! YES!!!"
When we climbed out of the car at our destination, Meg and I had a stretch in the driveway, wearing only our sweatshirts, which drooped over our bums. Auntie Anne, who had been trying desperately to block the erotic sensations in order to drive, hustled into the house. As soon as the door closed, we heard a muffled shriek as her orgasm took hold. She had done the same thing at several rest stops along the way. Meg and I both giggled. We'd groped each other steadily and had each come umpteen times since we'd left the coast, although after that first time we were as discreet as possible, so as not to further upset Auntie.
Megan said, "Let's get inside, too. I can't wait to show you a sixty-nine."
"What's a sixty ... Oh!" Sometimes I can be a quick study.
"There's something else we found out about the dildos. Mamma said I could show you when we got home."
She led me by the hand into Auntie's big bedroom. Once there, she flung off her shirt, and I did the same.
"That feels way better," she said. She pulled me close, so that our tits and bellies were pressed together, and we shared an open mouthed, tongue wrestling kiss.
When we came up for air, Meg said, "OK, the thing is, when the dildos touch each other, they can join together into one big one."
Startled, I realized that it had already happened. We were standing face to face, and, when I leaned back, I could see that we were now linked at the pussy by a single flexible red rod.
I shifted slightly, and gasped. I could now feel the entire surface of the combined slug creature, from where it was pressed against Meg's womb, deep inside her pussy, across to where the other end was diddling mine - and all the bits in between. This was going to be good.
It was better. Megan demonstrated how we could work out on the double-sized creature between us, humping on it until we had swallowed it all up, and then grind together, clit on clit. Or, we could twist our lithe young bodies around (if I do say it), and play spoon-wise or tail-to-tail ... as long as we left enough slack between us, and remembered to unwind. All the while, the dildo continued to do its own thing, as well - shifting alternately from hard to pliable, and forming tendrils to titillate us, inside and out. My personal favourite was when we took turns riding astride each other. It didn't matter how wild we got - it wasn't like it could ever pop out.
There was another thing Megan let me discover for myself, which I did not long after we began. Not only could I feel everything our shared blob touched ... when Meg came, I could feel that too, a sort of blast of pleasure that pulsed through our link. Wow!
Afterwards, spent, we lay together side by side with a loop of the red dildo still joining us at the pussy. "What happens now?" I asked. I could tell that Megan and her mother had investigated the subject extensively.
"Mmm," said my cousin, sated. "They always wait until we're asleep to split apart. Can't do this if you're in a rush to go somewhere."
"Now you tell me," I said with a giggle. There was a pause while I yawned, and then I added, "Need a nap now, anyway."
When I woke, it was to the insistent tickling of my dildo. As Meg had promised, it had parted company with hers. She was still asleep, laying on her back in all her bare glory. I was admiring the view when I heard a sound, and turned to find that Auntie Anne was there. She too was naked, standing with her back to the bed and fiddling with the blinds. It occurred to me that I had never seen either my cousin or my aunt unclothed before today. The athletic woman was beautiful in the dappled sunlight. With a start, I realized she had that glow I had associated with pregnant women - which, of course, is what we now all were.
"Ah. You're awake," she said, turning to stand in front of the bed, her shapely legs set wide apart. I could see the nubbin of her dildo, red like the Meg's, and mine. Her clit stood out prominently above it. She was obviously horny - hell, I thought, we all are, all the time.
"Call me Anne. Feeling refreshed?"
I nodded and smiled. Anne climbed onto the bed to straddle me, and then lowered herself slowly until our two dildos touched. The things flowed together like mercury. Then it was away to the races. Our bouncing and rutting quickly woke Megan, who cheered us on.
Briefly sated after several orgasms each, we stopped for breath. We managed to re-arrange ourselves relatively comfortably, so that we were sitting face to face with stacks of pillows for support. It had just occurred to me that I was famished, when Megan padded in the door with a heaped up plate full of finger-food.
After we demolished the food, Megan climbed on the bed and stood astride the exposed stretch of red shaft that linked her mother and I. Her own dildo was hanging to within inches of it. "What do you think?" she asked.
"Go for it," answered Anne.
Meg squatted down slightly and touched her slug to our combined one. Sure enough, all three seemed to melt together.
"Goodness," I said. I had heard the term 'three-way' before, but I was pretty sure it didn't refer to three ladies bound together by their pussies.
The resultant romp was a tangle of limbs and bodies all writhing in a great sweaty heap. Several times I giggled to find myself smooching my own skin. It was impossible to maintain any sort of rhythm, but it didn't matter: our three-headed mega-slug was pumping us all to most satisfactory heights. And 'multiple orgasms' doesn't begin to describe what it was like to feel your partners' peaks mingle with your own.
The tricky bit was afterward, since we were still locked together in an untidy ball; however, we were so worn from our exertions that sleep came quickly enough. When I woke, Megan was lying on top of me. A foot to the left and we would be re-connected. I squirmed aside just in time. Not that I minded, but Meg had said it was a challenge to have a pee in that condition. Apparently it called for a co-ordinated two-step to get to the bathroom and step into the bathtub, where both parties could pee and shower. I couldn't even imagine how to coordinate a trio-hop into the tub (I found out the next day. We should have sold tickets.)
That evening, the three of us made a major expedition to the grocery store to lay in a pile of food. When we got home, we stripped off again, in relief, and for the next six weeks we never went out of the yard and never put on a stitch of clothing.
Anne and Meg had already fixed up the house by turning the heat up and the dehumidifier off until it was almost as tropical as the greenhouse, and by closing the front blinds for privacy. The deck was also out of sight, being tucked into a space between the kitchen and the garage; so the only exposed place was the back yard. We would march across to the greenhouse, regardless, even Anne giggling like a naughty schoolgirl. We spent a lot of time out there, tending our plants.
More even than gardening, we liked to eat, or to take long steamy showers. And we liked to read or sleep on the sunny deck. But most of all, of course, we liked to fuck. Anywhere, anytime. We were always at a fever pitch of arousal, anyway, but our dildos were expert at leaving us on the edge. We would eventually be rewarded by wonderfully explosive orgasms, but often we just couldn't wait. The flow of kisses and caresses and soft skin and hair was perfect to smooth out the roller coasters of passion.
The whole odd experience brought the three of us together, to become sisters and lovers. We all shared one bed, and spent a remarkable amount of time on it, writhing together in ecstasy. At the same time our dildos would loop and twist, caressing the nearest nipple or seeking an unoccupied hole to penetrate. Eventually, they would merge, locking us all together until exhaustion and sleep released us.
Basically, we spent our days in a fog of lust. Auntie told us this wasn't actually normal, no matter how much stimulation we were receiving. (What did we know?) She reckoned as how the slugs were secreting some sort of drug that was making us perpetually horny. She also figured the stuff would be worth a fortune if she ever figured out what it was.
The early morning was when we could think clearest. Around the middle of July, seven weeks after being knocked up by the flowers, I woke up to find my head pillowed on Megan's growing tits and my arm sprawled over her very swollen belly. I probed a bit with my fingers, and she stirred.
"Meg - you've got a bunch of hard lumps in there."
She reached over and explored my own expanded tummy with her dildo-beastie, its tip divided into fingerlets. "Well, so do you," she said, and then she slid the thing down to tease my clit.
"But - what ..." I was starting to loose focus.
"Seeds of some sort," said Anne from close behind me. "We've each got six or eight, maybe more. It's hard to tell for sure. Not to worry."
It was good to hear that Anne so positive that things would turn out all right, but it still seemed a bit creepy. However, what with my first orgasm of the day building, I soon forgot about it.
Over time, our dildos were growing ever bigger, too. Now when my dildo tried to suck itself up into my body, I could see (by craning to see over my tummy) that it got so scrunched up that it stretched my pussy four or five inches wide. Even then, there was a lot left over. By this point, my inner muscles were strong enough to squeeze it back out like bright red tooth paste - if I wanted.
On the other hand, when I stood up, it would often stretch so far as to swing down between my knees, or sometimes loop up to caress my belly and tits - or somebody else's.
As the summer wore on, we spent more and more time sunning ourselves on the back deck. We still had the odd fuck session together; but mostly, we would just lie on our lounges, each of us lost in her sensations, murmuring in her lust. Occasionally we would roll over to bake one or the other side - our bellies were now much too big for us to lay face down comfortably. By early August it was warm enough to stay outside through the night, too. Once in a while, one or another of us would wander into the kitchen for a snack (Anne had rigged a garden hose for water) or go for a pee - although we seemed to need to do either less and less.
One afternoon, Anne, ever the botanist, asked me, "Do I look a bit green to you?"
I raised my head. "Nah - nice tan, though. Mmm. Great tits, too."
"Thanks. Under the tan, though. Definitely greenish." She went back to sleep.
Later, she tried again. "Meg, you hungry?"
"Only, when did you eat last?"
"Wahzat? Ahh, God! Yes! Yes! Um, dunno. Yesterday, maybe? What day is it?"
"No idea. But ... oh ... oh! Ohhh! Mmmm. What was I saying? It's just I don't think I've eaten anything for maybe three or four days."
"So - you hungry?"
"No," she answered, dreamily. "Ahh, yeah, that's sooo nice!" She was quiet for a time, and then said, lazily, "It's the Chlorophyll, prob'ly."
A few days later, I woke up with a start. I was still on my lounge chair. It was daylight, but I had no idea what time of day it was, much less what day. There it was again - something moved inside me. I knew babies did that, but seeds? I wondered what was happening, but the sensation stopped, and fresh ones began as my slug-buddy began to do its thing. Lovely.
I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew, it was early evening (the same day?) and this time I definitely felt something odd happening. I lifted up, trying to see over my swollen belly. My dildo was gone - vanished. Instead, there was a white tendril, about three inches long, peeking from between my pussy lips. Where it left my body it was the thickness of my thumb, and it tapered gradually to a point. It also had tiny hairs along its length that tickled my pussy as it passed.
As it passed, I stared at the apparition, and realized that it was moving as I watched. Finally my mind fell into gear. The thing was a root, and it was now sliding out of me, undoubtedly in search of a place to plant itself. Anne had theorized that something like this would likely happen.
Before I knew it, twelve inches worth was wiggling between my knees, and I struggled to my feet and looked around. Anne was nowhere to be seen, but Megan was stirring on her own lounge chair, her legs open to straddle her seat and her feet on the deck. She too had a long white root creeping out of her pussy.
I felt a firm twitch inside. "Ouch. Meg - wake up," I hissed.
Megan drowsily opened her eyes.
"Guess what," I said. "It's started." I tried to think. Pots - the greenhouse! Just in case, Anne had left a row of pots waiting out there. I hustled as fast as I was able toward the edge of the deck, but got no further than a nearby planter. The white root whipped frantically over toward the moist earth, so I stepped astride the narrow box and squatted a little. As soon as the thing touched the soil, it dug down into its new home. I found myself being dragged down by my pussy until my bottom was kissing the cool earth.
Suddenly, after all that had happened, I was very near panic. Here I was, quite literally rooted to the spot - was Anne right, or was I turning into some kind of plant?
In very short order, Megan found herself crouched facing me, rooted to the planter in the same way. Her hands were on her big belly, her eyes open wide. "Mamma!"
"In here, Meg," Anne called back, from the kitchen. "I was getting the camera and got caught short." We could just see her through the patio doors, squatting over a potted fern. If I hadn't been so scared, I would have laughed out loud. Anne had for weeks been taking pictures of the plants, our slugs, and our responses to their stimulation - recording our experiences, she told us, in case she could someday still be able to submit a paper on her discovery.
I fervently hoped the front page wouldn't be a photo of three big shrubberies in a back yard, one of which had a camera stuck in the top branches.
Is if reading my thoughts, Anne called, "Don't worry!"
I couldn't imagine why not, but before I could think of anything to say, I felt my belly contract. I winced. "Now what?"
There seemed to be no answer to that. It looked like we were about to give birth, just as Anne had predicted. But how, and to what, remained to be seen. Meg and I stared at each other helplessly for a few minutes. Nothing more happened, but we could hear unsettling gasps coming from inside the house.
And then I had another, stronger, contraction. At the same time something shifted inside my womb, and I felt a tug on the root that passed inside of me. I breathed heavily, and every few minutes yet another contraction gripped me. Each time, my body pushed. By now, Megan was doing the same. We were both sweating, and making the same gasps and grunts as were coming from Anne. For the next half hour, we laboured on.
At last, after a great push, I forced from my stretched pussy a leathery brown seed pod, the size of a grapefruit and covered with my slippery inner juices. It landed solidly between my feet. I grunted in relief and satisfaction, and then watched in amazement as it shook and twisted - its taproot was dragging it down into the loosened soil. I didn't even register the fact that a second pale root had started to slide out of my body until it was too late. Crap! Once more I found myself rooted to the ground. I sank back down at the thing's pull, and again I found myself pushing and puffing as my contractions resumed. I tried to decide exactly how many lumps I had felt when prodding my belly. Six? Eight? Enough to keep me sprogging seeds for some time.
Megan soon dropped a big seed of her own into the planter, and like me she was quickly re-rooted, having been distracted by the sight of her naked mother waddling determinedly across the deck in the direction of the greenhouse. There was already a fresh white root swinging between Anne's thighs, and it actually snaked out ahead of her to the lawn at the edge of the deck. With a resigned sigh, she stepped over it and let it draw her down until her pussy was pressed to the grass.
Happily, I found my second seed came free of me a bit more easily than the first one had. When it dropped, I stood and stretched my stiff back and legs. Even as I did so, I could feel yet another root emerging between my legs. Meg was on her feet now, too, but Anne was still hunched over the lawn. Looking over her shoulder, she said, "This may take a while - it's having trouble digging into this hard ground. Best you girls keep to the garden beds."
I took her word for it and hobbled straight for the flowers at the edge of the house. Meg, who was likewise decorated with her third root, did the same, but picked a spot on the other side of her sweating mother. We were both quickly anchored among the begonias, focusing on our straining bellies.
And so the three of us slowly made a peculiar progression across the back yard, each determined to reach the greenhouse. Our paths zigzagged from one flowerbed to the next, as, one at a time, fresh shoots kept on emerging from our pussies in search of a home. I planted my fourth under a lilac bush, and then made it all the way to a decorative cherry tree in the middle of the yard before I felt the next yank on my womb. Once again I was tugged back down to a squat.
I braced myself against the trunk of the little tree and looked around. Anne had nearly made it to the greenhouse - she was crouching in a patch of tulips by the door, where another powerful root had stopped any further progress. Meanwhile, Megan was hunched over in the rockery. Beyond her, over the fence, I saw our nosey old neighbour, Mister Whippet, watching us from his porch. Oddly, he didn't seem to be reacting to the bizarre scene. His eyesight must be terrible, I thought. I winced at the next contraction, and then gave the man a friendly wave. "Just out here gardening," I muttered. I glanced back at Megan, who was closest to the fence. My friend's green-tinted tan made her hard to see among the Rhododendrons. Whippet probably hadn't noticed her at all.
Another contraction gripped my now shrinking belly, and I had to pay attention to my own situation. I finally forced another big seed out of my body to land with a wet thud at my feet. After a brief inspection to see that it was healthy, I hurried to continue my journey to the greenhouse. Two more stops were necessary, both spent sitting among some roses in plain view of our neighbour, and then I was in the shelter of the greenhouse. Anne was already there, rooted to one of the pots she had specially prepared for the blessed event. She had already seeded several others, nearby.
I hustled over to a free pot and sat my sore pussy down on it, but I felt no more contractions. It just figures, I thought, but to be sure, I waited there for a bit. To pass the time, I examined one of Anne's seeds in the pot next to me. The root had managed to pull the big seed right into the loose soil, and a pale green shoot had already appeared to mark the spot.
Megan finally stumbled in to join us, and plopped a long writhing tendril into a waiting pot. That proved to be her last, and so fifteen minutes later, Anne and I, who were both now done, helped her to her feet.
I felt completely spent, but, as we hoisted Megan up, I started to laugh. The whole thing had been so absurd, and now it was done. I laughed until I wept, and the others joined in. When we were all quite sure we had finished our labours, we joined in a group hug.
"Did you see old man Whippet?" I gasped.
"Ha! You should have seen your own face!" Meg wheezed, the tears streaming.
When we had recovered slightly, we hosed each other down with cool water. Feeling refreshed, we then stepped out the door and threw ourselves down to lay right out on the lawn, drying in the cool evening breeze ... Mister Whippet be damned.
After we had rested, we dug up all the little plants we had deposited around the yard and transferred them into the greenhouse. The one inside the house we left - it would be happy enough there.
The rest of the summer was anticlimactic – we dragged Auntie’s exercise stuff out onto the deck and worked on restoring our muscle tone. Our shapely figures soon returned, with only a minimal amount of extra fat and stretch marks from our strange pregnancies. And – bonus – Meg and I now sported significantly enhanced knockers.
We still slept in the same bed together, and continued to indulge in gentle sessions of sex. The flavour was different now – the intensity was less and the intimacy was greater – but it was just as satisfying. At the same time, we resumed some of our old interests. Anne managed to get in some research and Meg and I finally made it to the mall.
We also continued to spent time just soaking up the sun, although our green tinting faded away. We needed the rest – overall, our carnal summer had been exhausting.
When they took me back to the coast at the beginning of September, in time for school, I carried along one of my seedlings. "For your mother," said Anne, giving me a lingering goodbye kiss. "See you at Christmas."
It turned out school wasn’t so bad. For one thing, I made good friends with Wendy, who wasn’t nearly a dumb as she pretended to be. In the flesh, she was every bit as beautiful as I had imagined - I’d been right about her being horny, too. I could pretty much smell out lust, now.
Of course, that wasn’t so hard in the case of boys. In the first month back I managed to discreetly bump pelvises with Tom, Keith, and both Dave’s … oh, and Mr. Clark (his WAS bigger than mine had been, by the way – up until mid-June, or so). I was beginning to see why those Indian guys were as keen on the plant as their women – I was always hot to trot.
Then in late October, to my surprise, both my plants set buds. I phoned Megan right away.
"Yeah - they all have here, too!"
"I thought Anne said they only flowered once a year, if that?"
Megan laughed. "Yup. That's what she thought." There was a pause on the line, and then she said, "So - whacha gonna do?"
"Are you kidding?"
"OK, me too! What about your mom?"
"I don't think she's ready yet. But there's a girl I met at school who might be interested in botany. I think you'll like her."
"Cool," said Meg. And then, because she knew me, she added, "It's all right - I promise I won't be jealous. I've got Anne. I don't want you to be alone."
"Thanks, Meg! God, I miss you guys. It'll be tricky with school, but we should all be due around the end of the Christmas break. The timing is perfect! Wendy and I will both come and spend the break there with you."
The next day after school I brought Wendy home with me for a sleepover. I took her straight to my room and showed her my two exotic vines with their swelling buds, each with its own grow lamp. Already there was a hint of the aphrodisiac perfume in the air. I told Wendy the entire weird story, and, although she didn't believe me, at least she thought it was a hot bedtime tale.
"You'll just have to show me," she told me with a laugh.
The next morning when we got up, there was no change. Wendy made no comment, but rolled her eyes in a meaningful way. I returned a bland smile - she was a bit flushed. Thanks to the plant's teasing scent, she was probably feeling distinctly horny this morning. God knows I was. She was a little surprised, after breakfast, to find that the flowers had bloomed.
"Well, of course they would, sometime. But they're so beautiful - and that perfume..." Her voice trailed off.
I waited by the door, and watched my friend as she was drawn to the nearest blossom, the one I thought of as my progeny. I felt something like pride as she tossed aside her clothes and leaned close to the plant. Vines began to caress her curves, and fold around her legs and that perky, well-formed ass of hers.
However, as much as I would have liked to watch, the perfume was beginning to overcome me. I smiled and turned toward the other pot, in the corner of the room, and saw the huge flower waiting for me. Shedding my own clothes, I approached my old lover 'Antonio'. Out of the corner of my eye, I glimpsed Wendy eagerly spreading herself wide open with both hands...
I woke to find myself sprawled naked on the floor. I'd forgotten how stretched my belly felt right after being pumped full of plant cum. I was pretty sure I'd been out much less time than before, but my new little slug had already made all its connections to me - I wriggled it all around and then used it to feel up my clit. Inside, I felt a familiar fucking sensation as its other end got to work. My God, I'd missed this!
When Wendy eventually began stirring, I watched her, savouring her reactions. The sun shone on her pretty face, and she squinted at the light, clearly trying to recall what had happened. As she tried to sit up, she must have felt movement inside her. "Huh," she grunted, and then, "Oh!"
From where I sat, I could see her pussy literally twitching around a big red knob. Thanks to my bad influence, she had already fucked a few boys, but this was obviously different. Like for one thing, once she was sitting part way up, it was clear to her that there was no boy.
Instead, there was just me, sitting calmly nearby, naked as a jay, with my legs spread to show off my own red knob protruding from my glowing pussy.
"But..." I could see Wendy's new slug busily stretching and twisting. She looked down at last between her legs, and then began to make rude, incoherent moaning noises. Suddenly she was coming: "Aggggh, AHH."
When she had finished, I knelt beside her, smiling. "How do you feel?"
"A little sore, but good," Wendy managed to reply, and then gasped as another orgasm hit her. "It was all true, then."
I rubbed my own thin-stretched pussy lips and then I too finally shuddered in orgasm. "It was all true," I agreed, and leaned in to give my friend a deep kiss.
That afternoon, as the sunbeam drifted slowly across my room, it was Wendy's turn to learn to handle the stimulation of being kept near peak arousal. At first she could only walk a few steps before she had to stop and catch her breath. Sometimes, an unexpected orgasm would double her over, puffing and giggling as it passed. But she progressed quickly with my practiced tuition.
I had worked out all the details. Knowing that Wendy couldn't leave my bedroom wearing her tight little hotpants, I had already gone to the mall and picked us both out a selection of baggy sweatshirts and long skirts that tied at the waist. They were somewhat more fashionable than what I had worn at the end of last year. Plus I'd also got us some 'instant tan creme' for later, to hide our green skin.
Around about the time that school was letting out, Wendy headed for home, taking along her plant and its grow lamp for her bedroom.
After that we were inseparable. My mom worked days and Wendy's mom worked a lot of evenings, so we worked out a system. We would spend as many days at my house as we figured we could get away with (as in playing hooky), and then she would go home just before my folks got home from work. I'd eat a quick bite of dinner at home to prove I was still around, and then head over to Wendy's place for the evening - to 'study'. As often as possible, we'd sleep over too. Did I mention inseparable? The very first night we were together, I demonstrated how our slugs could join into one. Wendy was suitably impressed.
At school we laughed and whispered secrets, and took bets on who could have the best orgasm in class and still not move. Mostly though, we managed to carry on as if everything was normal. Surprisingly our grades didn't suffer, too much, since we actually did study together occasionally, between our constant fuck sessions.
Everything went as planned, except that about two weeks after we were knocked up, Wendy's younger sister, Angie, caught us. Luckily, we'd been doing the sixty-nine thing - a full out dildo-meld would have been harder to explain. Not that explaining wasn't still a bit tricky. However, Wendy told the whole story, which was so entertainingly improbable that Angie was soon talked down from 'I'm gonna tell Momma' to a sceptical 'show me'. I think Wendy was afraid she'd never ask.
First Angie got up close, to look at and feel our bright red slugs; they squirmed at her touch.
"Ow - careful, don't pinch," I said.
Startled, she let go. "You could feel that?"
"Fuck, yes! That hurt!" To Wendy I said, "Lay back and spread 'em."
So then I showed Angie the seam that bonded slug with girl. I was afraid she would be grossed out, but she wasn't - just fascinated. She studied the flesh spread out in front of her, and I had her put her hand on Wendy's tummy - I knew she would feel the thing bumping around in there. I could tell it was all making her hot ... she was starting to look really flushed.
Wendy saw it as well, and willed her slug to stretch out and rub Angie's cheek.
"Hey! Did you make it do that?"
"Sure!" She was proud of her developing skill in that department. "Take your clothes off and I'll show you more." She waved the thing slowly back and forth in front of her sister like a bright red cobra.
Seeing as Wendy and I were already starkers, Angie had no problem stripping, but she was a little shy about climbing on top of her sister's thighs afterward. Curiosity got the better of her in the end, though. She eased herself up until her plump bald pussy was within inches of the brightly coloured slug. Actually, I had no idea what would happen, seeing as we had never tried this particular experiment.
I watched in fascination as the creature, sensing fresh pussy juices, reached across and began to gently touch her, and then probe her opening. “Oh!” was all she said, and she squirmed her butt a little as the thing slowly slipped a pencil-thin finger inside her. Then, “WOOO!”
Wendy, who could feel whatever it was her slug was doing in there, said “Is that nice?”
“Oh, y-yeah!” I was pretty sure those aphrodisiacs Anne had told us about were leaking across into her. At first she sat tight and let Wendy and her slug do whatever they liked, but as her level of arousal began to climb, she shifted forward to rub her flushed pussy lips on her sister's. The slug, trapped between, had already thickened, and I soon heard Angie squeak when her maidenhead was finally dealt with. She seemed to barely notice, ‘cause she began to bounce her butt up and down, sliding on the now rigid dildo-beast. When Wendy started putting her hips into action as well, Angie was soon riding like a pro.
Much later, we all lay sated on the bed - Wendy and I connected by a melded double-slug and Angie squeezed between us. I could feel a protrusion of said slug still penetrating deep into her quivering pussy. The girl was humming. We had to promise to fuck her at least once a day, each, and bring her a plant of her own as soon as possible. I figured we would have to bring their mother one, too, to avoid even more complications.
By late November, the seeds began to grow inside us, and we started to fill out our sweatshirts. Mom, noticing the amount of food I had been eating, and my increasing waist size, gently suggested I cut back my rations. I assured her I was on top of it. I was eating less, now, anyway - I was beginning to slow down.
"I think you should be taking some vitamins, too. I don't like your color."
"Yes, Mom." I didn't blame her - my orange-brown instant tan, painted over a blend of chlorophyll green and girlish pink, didn't look quite right.
Wendy and I still spent lots of time together, but much of it was spent in her bedroom with the heat turned up high, just quietly lying naked side by side on the bed as we rode the waves of pleasure. Angie rode too - she would take advantage of our sloth by climbing astride each of us in turn and offering our now huge slugs extra rations of pussy juice. They complied eagerly, and deeply, and I had to admire that girl's stamina. Sometimes, one or the other would get so frisky that it would hoist her butt right up in the air.
When Christmas break came at last, we took the bus together to Auntie Anne's town, huddled together at the back under a heavy blanket. After a quick cab ride from the bus station, we were there. I led Wendy right around the house to the greenhouse.
Sure enough, Anne and Meg were out there, basking their pregnant bodies under a big bank of grow lamps. It was tropically humid and hot - just right. Meg had the same fake tan as did Wendy and I, with the same greenish tinge, but Anne's skin was a beautiful leafy green, as bright as anything in the greenhouse. She looked like a wood nymph.
There were two empty chase lounges waiting, and nearby were rows of large pots, filled with soil. Perfect. Our clothes were quickly tossed aside, and after leaning down to deliver introductions and greeting kisses to our slothful hosts, we settled down in our places.
I noted with approval that the drip irrigation system had been modified to provide us all with water. As I began to doze, I noticed that most of our herbaceous offspring were absent.
"Anne - where is everybody?"
"Mmmmm ... ahhh ... Oh, my! Where is everybody? Taken in by the Ladies Garden Club."
I thought of the group Anne often lectured to, and tried to picture Miss Willow, the town librarian, lying naked and green in her cottage under a sunlamp. "Cool," I murmured, as my next orgasm began to build.
Five days after we'd arrived at Auntie's, the 'birthing' began.
For Anne, Meg and me, it went easier than before - we'd become more ... elastic down there. We popped a dozen seeds each in about an hour, meanwhile taking turns holding back our next wee gift in order to help Wendy with her first several.
Once done, we let our new conscript sleep while we lay on the big bed and exchanged notes. Well, actually it was more like Anne went into clinical mode and debriefed me.
"How often did you do it after you got home, back in September?"
"What makes you think ...?"
"Cuz we did," said Meg. "So how many?"
"It's not as though I was counting." I allowed as how I had discreetly lined up a stable of three of the boys in my class, showing each in turn how it was done. I was constantly horny, and soon perfected the speed hump - nailing a guy in a closet or empty hallway in three minutes flat. At least, that's how it went in the beginning. After a while, they were good to go for as long as we could manage to hide out, which still wasn't necessarily very long.
Then I decided to seduce Mr. Clark. He seemed interested in spite of himself, so I decided to take him head on. I hung around after school, saying I wanted help with my Biology (true enough), and then I more or less jumped him. After I'd sucked on his tongue for a bit, his look of shock faded and he started to suck back.
"So did you fuck him often?"
"Well ... yeah. As often as we could manage."
"And did you notice anything odd?"
"No. Well, not really. He sort of had a growth spurt ..."
"You know - like, his pecker grew an inch or two. And he was lasting longer. Did I tell you about the Saturday before I was knocked up again?"
That was the day I'd finally brought along Wendy. We each told our mom we were going to sleep over at the other's house, and then we both went to Mr. C's instead. He led us straight to his hot tub to play in - only it was empty. He grinned and tipped a big bottle of vegetable oil inside. I was a bit doubtful, but the thing did have seats and ledges that suited all sorts of positions. As it turned out, it was great. He fucked us both nine ways to Sunday, and every half hour or so he dumped about a pint of sperm in us and on us. Between his jism and our girl juices and the Mazola, we were all as slippery as eels.
Round about dinnertime, we took a break, sharing a long shower and then wolfing down some delivered pizzas. After that we stumbled off to bed and played some more. I finally fell asleep with his still-hard cock in my belly. We had another round the next morning, before Wendy and I regretfully staggered back to our respective homes, our unused pyjamas in our backpacks.
When I'd told my story, Anne said, "You know that none of this is normal, right? Grown men do not experience growth spurts of the penis, nor do they routinely orgasm endlessly and on demand."
"Well, it did seem a little odd ..."
"It's alright - we had much the same experience. Megan managed to fuck a number of her classmates," - here Meg smirked - "and then I picked up a likely looking young man at a local tavern." Poor Anne had no man in her life. After her husband had left her, not long after Meg's birth, she'd put all her energy into her work. "We found he developed along much the same trajectory as your Mr. Clark. He serviced us both quite thoroughly right up until October." When the flowers had bloomed, in other words.
"The point is that even after we've given birth - now, that is - we're still raging cauldrons of pheromones, hormones and aphrodisiacs. I've tried to identify the sequence in which each one peaks, but ... the truth is, it's been a little difficult to focus.
"The impregnation cycle seems plain enough - roughly every six months, so far. Gestation is about eleven weeks. After the birthing, there seems to be a phase where we drive the men wild. I think that evolved to the plant's benefit as well. Remember how I told you the Indians practically worshiped these things? Not just the women - we can understand that." Here she winked at us. "This way, the men are happy too. Apparently, being transformed into a 'babe magnet' works for guys in any culture."
"There's something else," said Meg. "Have you had a good look at Mama?"
I was looking at all of her at that very moment. It took me a moment to realize what I was seeing. Anne had changed - gradually but steadily since last May her body had tightened and smoothed, so that she now looked young enough to pass for our sister ... except possibly for the fact that Meg was nuzzling one of her taut breasts in a slightly un-sisterly way.
Anne gave me a sultry smile, obviously pleased by this particular development.
"Hot stuff," I agreed, and we proceeded to have a farewell romp.
Next morning Wendy and I were on the bus for home, with three carefully stowed Gaia-plants (as Anne was now calling them) for Angie and our mothers. That same afternoon, we three girls got together in my bedroom, and things got even more complicated.
After Angie had admired our changed bodies - slug free, with swollen breasts and shrunken bellies - she announced it was time to play. Wasting no time, she climbed on top of me and started in on a lovely sixty-nine. I was drifting with the sensations, caressing her soft cheek as she nuzzled my pussy, when she said, "Oh!" and Wendy said, "Ummm - Cyn?"
I brushed Angie's face one more time and then stopped to consider the fact that I was also holding her pretty little stern in both hands. After tumbling about to change positions, the three of us finished up all staring closely at my bottom. There, from between my flushed pussy lips, stood eight inches of ... vine, sort of. It was the same bright green as the freshly delivered Gaia plant in the corner, but luckily leafless.
Both my friends were so goggle-eyed it was comical, and without thinking I reached over and pooked Angie's nose - with my vine. Which was weird enough, but I'd also extended it another eight inches to reach her. There had been a squirmy feeling in my gut, and I'd felt the vine slide along the length of my cunny. I fact, I felt everything - cunt wall, pussy lips and surface of the vine itself, as it passed through me. Oh, and I felt Angie's nose, too. I nearly came then and there.
Trembling, I swung the thing back to hover in front of my own face. Its surface was supple and, green or not, it was skin-like. It gleamed slightly, being coated with my juices. The end was fatter, and to my randy eyes, distinctly cock-shaped. I wondered, how far could it reach? Slowly, I started to stretch it straight up between us.
When my vine-shaft had reached about three feet, it started to topple. Again without thinking, I leaned it onto Wendy, and then turned it once around her shoulders for support. Angie reached forward and wrapped a cool hand around it.
"It's warm," she murmured.
How much further? I slid it out my pussy some more -gliding it around
Wendy and stretching it out beyond her toward the bedside table.
Until I touched the lamp. "Ow! Hot!"
At that, I abruptly retracted it - somehow, somewhere into my belly. I came then, hard, as the mass of it re-coiled itself inside me.
"Holy fuck," said Wendy.
"Do me," whispered her little sister.
Do her? Even as the concept sank in, Angie was eagerly climbing astride my hips, and starting to rub her clit against mine. And why not do her? I slid the thing's tip out of my pussy and up into hers, as far as it would go. This obviously met her needs - she groaned loudly and began to grind down hard. I began to drive my new organ in and out of her by extending and retracting it, thereby fucking us both at the same time. It was feeling pretty good all along my vine, too. Hot damn, a new erogenous zone!
She was a trembling wreck when Wendy finally hoisted her off, saying to me, "My turn, now, Octopussy."
I laughed out loud at that - I was becoming a rude superhero.
When I finally called Anne, she confirmed that she and Meg had also become newly equipped with vines.
"They seem to be permanently rooted within the upper pelvis and extend through a new opening at the very top of our vaginas." Permanent - I'd guessed that much, because it somehow felt like I'd always had a vine. "Right now, they're about eight feet long, but they're growing by about an inch a day. The thing is, I don't know what they're for."
"Well, duh," I muttered.
Meg's voice came from her extension phone, "You should try it with two of them together!"
Anne continued, patiently, "The thing is, from an evolutionary point of view, what's in it for the Gaia plant?"
I didn't have an answer, but over the next few days, I began to learn a few non-orgasmic benefits for me. It was as useful as a monkey's tail - barring hanging from branches. I found I could touch and pick up things (and simultaneously excite myself), at much greater range and with far more control than when I'd tried such things with my old slug-pal. Hey - it wasn't just about doing away with the remote. I was having trouble remembering not to use it in public. Don't knock it 'till you've tried it.
I soon discovered that reeling my new part out into the sunshine gave me a hit of energy - from all that busy chlorophyll, I guess. That buzz felt so good that I started sneaking it out whenever I could. Finally, I hit on the idea of not hiding it at all - I slithered it up and out my collar, and then looped it around my neck and shoulders a few times like a ropy big verdant-green necklace. Hey - kids were already thinking I was a bit peculiar.
A bigger problem was that I myself was still a bit leafy-greenish - a pale willow-leaf green, not Wicked-Witch-of-the-West green. The fake tan was getting old, so I figured, why bother to hide my unusual tint? Instead, I went for an earth-mother/fairy-child look (willowy clothes complemented by my bright green 'necklace'). If people chose to think I was into another phase of weird make-up, who was I to argue?
By this time I was the subject of a good deal of parental angst. In addition to flak over 'make-up' and clothing, I was having trouble ducking out to get laid. But the plant I'd brought home for my mother wasn't going to bloom for months, yet, and in the meantime I was too chicken to just out and tell them what had happened to me - and what I had in store for her.
Then the solution struck me - if I fucked Dad, he would be manageable, plus after a week or two he would develop into a stud to be unleashed on Mom. That should keep them both of my case for a while. So - how to seduce my old man?
I considered the lame 'innocent blonde' approach - wander all dripping and naked out of the shower and say, "Daddy - how come my breasts are growing so fast?" (Which they were.) That wasn't exactly me, and anyway, I didn't want to scare the life out of him. So then I thought, maybe I should bring in Wendy to do the deed. He being pretty good looking, I knew she wouldn't mind; and I'd seen him steal glances at her backside. Still, he was family and I loved him. Some things you have to do yourself.
Anne had told me she had done some experiments to test the potency of our aphrodisiac secretions (I didn't ask for the details). Apparently, even our sweat had some effect, but our saliva was much stronger. It was our pussy juices, though, that really did the job.
No problem-o. When Mom next went to her book club, I auto-fucked myself from the inside with my trusty vine (the things we do for love). It didn't take long to collect a half a cup of juice. Then, I put the full dose in Dad's cocoa and delivered it. For extra emphasis I wore a thin white blouse and a very short skirt - and no underwear. Being still damp and sweaty from my come didn't hurt either.
I'm not sure the skimpy clothes wouldn't have been enough by themselves, but Dad downed his drink and that was that. He didn't climb all over me, mind you. It was all so - comfortable. We sat close on the sofa, which just naturally developed into a smooch on the ear, a caress of the cheek, and then a cuddle. When he slipped inside me, still murmuring in my ear, it felt perfectly natural, like we did this all the time. His movements were slow and steady ... and relentless. All the time, as he nibbled my neck and nuzzled my breasts, his cock was in constant motion.
When, by and by, he spurted a load of searing hot cum into my pussy, I had a shuddering great climax of my own. Afterward, he held me tight in a bear hug as his cock continued to gently pulsate inside me.
It turns out, Daddy's a born natural lover. On top of being sensitive to my needs, he's a marvel with his tongue. He's also inventive - he managed to secretly nail me several times a day. Different places - the kitchen, the laundry room, the garage - and different positions, too. He even took me in the ass. I'd thought I would be the one to introduce that (looking forward to when Mom and I would be hosting our slugs). Over the course of the week, father/daughter time also included an afternoon of mini-golf and a night at the movies - which were both actually spent at a secluded spot on the beach ... watching the 'submarine races'. The only tricky bit was keeping my vine to myself.
Even, one day, we did it while I was sitting in his lap to watch the ball game on TV - my skirt barely hiding where our naughty bits were connected in a delightfully squishy way. He being such a straight arrow, Mom just smiled and nodded whenever she passed by the den - not bothering to come in since, as Daddy and I well knew, she's no fan of baseball.
She did call us from the kitchen, though.
"You two are sure getting excited in there. Another home run?"
"I'll say!" I called back - once I'd caught my breath.
By the next time book club night came around, my chemical influence had provided Daddy with a bit more girth and a bit more length, and he was able to deliver a lot more cum over a lot more hours. Also, I was pleased to see, Mamma was already getting a lot more action. Their bedsprings were singing, now.
All in all, things were going pretty good. For one thing, I didn't need to get out for sex after all - although Wendy or Angie or Mr. C still provided me with some action at recess and lunch. In the case of the girls, I only had to sit next to them in the playground. I would put an arm around Angie's waist, say. Like I said, I was usually wearing my vine around my shoulders, so I would simple reel it out some more - down my sleeve and under her skirt and straight up her drooling pussy. Hey - we were expected to play, right?
On the home front, Mom was so laid back that I was tempted to suggest a threesome, but I still didn't want to wig her out. Which is kind of funny, when you consider I'd just slipped Daddy a mickey of my cum in order to have my way with him. The thing was, I planned to get her pregnant by my Antonio soon, which seemed a little more of an imposition than inducing her to bed me.
It didn't even occur to me that she was already mellowing just on the scent of me. So it was me that nearly wigged when her smiling face appeared over Daddy's shoulder one afternoon when he was ploughing me in the garden shed. I relaxed when she started to caress his chest and nibble his neck, and I knew that we had a new playmate. Of course she may have been in my thrall, but only in so far as sex was concerned. I still had to eat my vegetables.
Anyway, it was shortly after that when I finally discovered why my lovely new vine was also good for Gaia plants. One day after school I felt like it would be sort of nice to cut through the park. Wendy joined me, chatting about clothes (sometimes we could actually go fifteen minutes at a stretch without sex). Along the way it seemed to be a good idea to take a shortcut through some underbrush, and Wendy followed me, silent now. In a few minutes we came to a small hidden glade I had all but forgotten was in there. I stood on the side that got the most light and looked up to the sky, and it suddenly seemed like a particularly nice spot to me - good sun, and under the skim of mulch and leaf litter there was moist, humus-filled soil that was particularly deep and nutritious - a nice friable grain, not too much clay. It was a bit erotic, actually, all that mysterious earth in every direction, warm and ...
Wendy was shaking me. "Cynthia! Are you alright?"
I focussed my eyes on her - I was still breathing heavily and close to a cum. "I think I'm taking root!"
We both looked down to see my vine, now a spiral of green around my left leg that disappeared into the dirt at my feet. Yet again I was afraid I was going to finish up as a shrubbery, only this time it didn't seem so terrible. I was still getting a rush from the weird sensation of my expanding root growth below our feet.
Wendy was not so laid back. "What should I do? We need help!"
I held her tight, and rode out a most unusual orgasm. At the peak, I felt a sharp pain near the end of my vine, and then I slumped, unconscious, into my friend's arms.
Wendy led me home, and another emergency call to Anne was made. This time, she and Meg hadn't shared my experience - quite yet. It seemed that they were just about to go for a walk.
"But of course! Asexual reproduction!" Anne sounded unreasonably pleased. "It was a sort of stolon. You know how, when a blackberry vine touches the ground, it takes root? Or strawberry runners? You did much the same thing. The bit you left behind is a basically a clone."
"There's, like, another Cynthia growing in the woods?"
She laughed. "Not quite - it will become another version of our old friends from the jungle. Although," she added, "I suspect that it contains a small contribution of genetic material from you ... like all the other seeds that we've gestated. You say you really felt the condition of the soil? The nutrients? The pH?"
"Yeah - probably - whatever that is. It just felt ... right, you know?"
"Hmm - well, we knew our vines have a link to the nervous system - we control the thing completely. But this is fascinating. And you say you healed right away?"
"Uh - yeah." I spooled it out to check. "It's already swollen out to its comfy old wang shape at the end."
"Marvellous! And not Wendy yet, or the garden club ladies here - it must be associated with the second birthing. Meg and I are going for a hike, now. I'm keen to try this out. Talk to you soon."
After that I took regular walks, usually to the same hidden glade. Not as though I had to, or anything, but I liked to check on how my plant was doing. Plants, actually, since I dropped off another one each time I visited ... seeing as I was in the neighbourhood.
Anne had called back with an update. She thought that twelve feet or so of vine was probably as much as would comfortably fit inside us. In which case, setting a bud once a week worked out about right to offset our continued growth. She also said that we should put them where a likely lass might chance by and have enough privacy for a round with a Gaia blossom. Which is why I slipped one into the back garden of Miss O'Neil, my French teacher.
And then, in early April ... it happened that I was in a study class in the library, near the end of the day. Everyone was a bit dozy, except for me - I was just horny, as usual. Across the table from me was Shelly, a new girl in our class. She had green eyes, red hair and major freckles, and I was thinking as how she was really quite pretty. I wondered if she had the same thick tight curls on her pussy yet, and it occurred to me that it would be easy to reach my vine across under the table to check.
And so I did - reeling myself out and looping stealthily across the gap, and then slipping under her skirt to touch her knee. She trembled and blinked, but I gently rubbed my potently juicy knob up the inside of her thigh. After only a moment or two, she spread her legs and lowered her head closer to the book in front of her. Anyone would have supposed she was reading, but I could see that her eyes were closed.
That seemed to go well, and so I spiralled up her leg until I reached her now sopping panties. Not a problem - I eased them aside and - yes, she had a lovely fine bush. Her lips were plump and soft, and I slid between them easily. For whatever reason, I encountered no troublesome hymen and so I continued on to her hot core. And then, I began to seriously fuck her.
So far, so good. I was getting pretty worked up, and I could see she was, too - her face and neck were bright red. Plus, she'd reached down between her thighs to take hold of the last loop of me - not to stop me but to pump me harder.
My own come took me in a rush, and I felt my vine make a slow, steady thrust deeper than should have been possible. Then Shelly came, too, her cunt muscles clamping down like a vice. I was somewhere deep inside her now; I knew what was happening but couldn't stop. I could sense her vibrant blood, her nerves and her tissues as my roots spread. Her emotions began to flow back to me - I detected fading fear and confusion, heavily overlaid with orgasmic pleasure.
I was a little conflicted, myself. Even as I came, I was aware of the fact that I was now setting a bud inside a virtual stranger - and getting off by doing it.
After my blood had stopped pounding, I un-docked and stowed my slightly shortened vine and hid behind a pile of books while I thought things over. I felt kind of bad about the whole thing. The notion just came over me, and it certainly wasn't like I'd asked her if she cared for a fuck plus a little something for her to keep. It seemed unfair to let her wander off and, in a week or so, get the shock of her life. On the other hand, what was I going to tell her? Angie had been a hard sell over the slugs, and she'd already seen Wendy and I playing with ours.
Anyway, I caught up to Shelly after school, and said, "About what happened in the library ..."
She blushed right down to her toes. "I fell asleep. I didn't actually ... do anything, did I?"
"Well ... you weren't dreaming, if that's what you mean."
"You wouldn't believe what I was dreaming!" Blushing hotly, she glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot. "So I was playing with myself, then?"
This was going to be harder than I thought. "Not exactly. Listen - have you noticed that the boys get a little excited around me?"
She looked puzzle about the apparent change of subject, and said, "Sure - Julie said you were the class slut ... uh, sorry."
Okay - maybe not so hard, after all. "Look," I said, "I'm different. Like, 'X-Man' different."
"You're a mutant?"
Easy, even. "No. Well, sort of. Shelly, I'm sorry, but I fucked you back there - like, for real. What you remember, it actually happened. No dream. Come on, there's lots more to tell. Follow me."
For a wonder, she did. I didn't know if it was curiosity or lingering pheromones, but she let me lead her into the park and off to my little plant patch. As soon as we broke out into the glade, I turned and planted a big kiss on her - I figured she could use a little anaesthetizing at this point. It worked - she smiled back, and didn't even notice my vine wrapping twice around both of us, until I slid the warm tip of it between our faces.
"Okay, Shelly, here's the deal. You've got one of these of your own growing inside you. You're one of us, now. Care to play some more with mine, in the meantime?"
As it happened she did. Later that afternoon, I made yet another urgent call to Anne. "I think this thing is screwing with my head."
Meg, on the other line, answered for her. "You just figuring that out?"
Anne was gentler. "It's alright, love. You implanted someone today, didn't you?"
"I didn't mean to!"
"Don't panic. Meg just set one in a boy after school today. Actually, he's still in her bedroom."
"A boy? How ..."
Meg interrupted again. "How do you think? I was giving him excellent head, and before I knew it I was also slipping up his backside..."
"Uh, right. And he didn't mind?"
Anne took over again. "Nobody minds. Our secretions seem to reduce people's anxiety and inhibitions, as well as excite. It affects us, too, you know. You wouldn't have fucked your parents before all this happened, would you?"
"Before all this happened, I'd never even played doctor."
"But our vines aren't putting actual thoughts in our heads, if that's what's worrying you. We're still in charge - except, of course, we're rewarded handsomely with pleasure when we engage in certain behaviours."
I swear I was starting to follow her - a bit.
"This new development is actually a very good thing. I didn't want to worry you two, but I was seriously concerned about our secret getting out. Everyone who has been impregnated is seriously mellow. But we weren't spreading very fast. Now - we can essentially double our numbers every week. Two - four - eight - sixteen - thirty-two - sixty-four ... theoretically, twenty weeks of doubling brings us to over a million Gaia-people. Lets see - four more weeks puts us over a billion. Assuming we can set new vines while we're pregnant ... if we can still get pregnant."
This was sobering information - especially the thought of being rejected by Antonio or his relations. Still, it wasn't entirely about me, so I asked, "We're going to take over the world?"
"Damn right - at least, we're going to try. I grew up believing we should all make love, not war. Imagine a planet where everyone - EVERYONE - was constantly getting laid!"
My cousin amplified this sentiment slightly. "Unnng - Unnng - YES - YES!"
Anne answered for her. "Oh - it's Kevin's turn to fuck Meg ... but you know how she hates to miss your calls."
So the message was, plant vines in as many people as possible. As it happened, this wasn't difficult. My school was already fertile ground, so to speak, having become a hotbed of sexuality. Wendy and I were keeping up our end (Oh, and Shelly and I often found time to play. Meg was right - two vines together is heaven). The boys we fucked and enhanced were very busy working through the school body. Mr. C, in particular, had fucked most of the other girls in his class, and had knocked up Julie (remember Julie, who thought I was a major slut?) in the old fashioned way.
He had an idea I could smooth things for her before she told her parents, and had sent her to me. I gave her a jar of my newly patented, homemade, raspberry and pussy juice jelly to take home, and made her promise to have some too. She thought I was crazy (or rather, crazier) but was understandably desperate. The next day she reported back to tell me she had put it over ice cream for dessert and - well, it seemed everything was going to be all right, just like I'd said. Not in the way she had expected, of course. It turned out that she, her parents and her little sister had all wound up merrily fucking away half the night together.
Anyhow, where was I? Oh, yeah, world domination. It was a simple thing for me to fuck the daylights out of a new girl each week (plus I did Keith, for variety), and then give them the same 'welcome to the club' speech I gave Shelly. Plus I would explain how they would soon be able to begin recruiting on their own. And, you know - conquer the world, in a nice way.
All in all, I was having so much fun I forgot to keep an eye on Antonio and blossom-time. The thing is, I now slept with Mom and Dad, mostly, being too shagged out to stagger to my own bed. At any rate, one day in May I got home from school to find Mamma laying naked in my bedroom, out cold, with a spilled watering can by her side and a shiny red knob peeking out from her pussy curls. Her hair was tousled, her already firmer tits (thanks to me!) were flushed, and she wore a crooked little smile. Altogether, she had a well-fucked look. I swear Antonio looked smug.
Damn, I'd wanted to watch - and I'd had truly meant to prepare her first. Luckily, the Gaia plant I'd intended for myself was waiting nearby, also in full bloom ... its scent was already making me woozy. I left a trail of discarded school clothes across the room as I headed over to my new lover. Mamma wasn't going to go anywhere for a while, anyway.
Anne had warned me that my vine could affect how the Gaia plants interacted with me - and there were some differences. Once I had been wrapped up in its tendrils, I felt compelled to slip my own out and engage the blossom in what I suppose you would call foreplay. Between one thing and another I was soon super-hot, my pussy juices running like tap water. It was time. I sucked in my vine and - wham! The blossom's pistol slammed inside me. I started to come immediately, but this time I stayed alert as it fucked me hard and fast. Eventually, it plugged itself firmly in my womb and proceeded to pump me up like a water balloon.
I looked eight months gone by the time it finally bunged up its handiwork with a fresh new slug - the red lump positively splashed greenish cum around the room as it drove home. I felt a tingling as it welded itself in place - and this time, it made its nerve connections within minutes. I waggled it about in satisfaction, and it exuberantly waggled right back.While I played with my fresh new toy and waited for Momma to come round, I discovered something else. There was a hole at the top of my pussy/slug seam. Excellent! My slug had been keeping the gap squeezed shut to keep in the cum - and no doubt would continue to do so, to keep as much of my pussy juice for itself. I hadn't actually noticed it, since I couldn't see over my belly. But I found I could still spool out my vine, no problem. Except, what with the two sliding together down there, it was pretty damn snug (good thing I'd become so elastic). Snug and stimulating, I might add. I was back on the orgasmic rollercoaster!