Herba-Mistress

"But I don't have a uterus," balled Emily. "Please don't let my mom know I had weird sex."

There was a long pause and the empathic tone dropped from the professor's voice when she said, "You don't have a uterus?"

"They took it out a year ago when I got cancer," Emily replied in stark counter to her previous devastation. "Why?"

Prof Masterson melted into a relieved smile and hugged Emily to her. "Good child, if you have no viable uterus then we have nothing to fear." Still bracing Emily's shoulders, she looked into Emily's eyes and continued with a smile. "If you have no pre-menopausal uterus, he could not have implanted you."

An ocean of dread withdrew from over Emily and she asked in relief, "Who is 'he'?"

"We call the specimen Caelibem Istud. It means Stalking Bachelor," she continued. "It caused quite a stir when we first discovered it. That was until we discovered its lethal potential. It cost the life of a brave and brilliant young colleague." She paused a long time as if recalling something from long ago. "We kept our discovery tightly under wraps after that, I assure you."

"Are you sure?" Emily sputtered. "We got it on... We did it... We were quite prolific in our devotions." She was still wiping away her tears and desperate for affirmation of her safety.

"Prolific, my dear?"

"Uh...," Emily began. She felt reluctant to admit the whole truth: that she and Dr. Masterson's Schtupping Butler had bonked the hell out of each other, but she would probably find out anyway. "It was a bit more than once." Emily bit her lip when the professor's eyebrows raised, then let her have it, "Every day."

"Every day?" the professor asked in unrestrained shock.

Emily felt a twinge of shame again about her excessive urges and if she might have over-utilized the poor thing. "Twice on Sunday," she admitted with a bit of a grimace.

"Twice on Sunday?" Prof. Masterson intoned with even deeper astonishment. When she saw Emily look downward in embarrassment she added assuringly, "And why not? My, you are a healthy girl, aren't you, though?" She patted Emily on the wrist, "We should make sure. I should like to take you to the university in the morning for an examination." She saw Emily blanch. "I know, my dear, an intrusive inconvenience. But it would put my mind at rest to know you have not suffered any ill effects."

"Well, I didn't have anything planned exactly," Emily admitted still sniffing and swallowing goof balls. "I guess it would be okay."

"Right. Well then, I will make arrangements with my colleague, Professor Ernholm, and we will see about that examination in the morning. She has a medical degree, you know. Nothing to worry about, my girl, just to make sure. You'll be right as rain."

"Can we..." Emily started. "I'd like to keep news about my... little adventure... to as few people as possible."

"Now, don't you be ashamed," the professor assured her with a smile. "She has had her own encounters with the Caelibem... in the name of science, I assure you. We are all alike in that respect. I'll have you know, our experiments with this species is privy to my colleague and I alone."

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"Twice on Sunday?" said Dr. Gretchen Ernholm with a frown of consternation and a trace of Swedish accent. Her eyes were wide and brow furrowed. The professor's shocked silence was for awe of Emily's stamina more than contempt for her unquenchable libido.

Emily's eyes strayed away and she felt embarrassed. It was Saturday morning and they were at the university in the office of Prof. Masterson's associate Dr. Ernholm in the Hall of Botanical Science. Emily sat on a chair before the two scholars fidgeting with the hem of her blouse with her feet tying her ankles in knots. It was hard to face an inquisition on her sex life even if she knew good and well that both women had engaged in the self-same herbal debauchery as she. "Well..." she offered, "He kind of sweeps a girl off her feet." The comment garnered a chuckle from Prof. Masterson.

"Young lady," Dr. Ernholm added in a flat even tone. "Do you know how dangerous it is to plunge into unfamiliar encounters in an uncontrolled environment?"

"Gretchen," Prof. Masterson asserted. "You know very well the vulnerability of being exposed to the nature of Caelibem."

"Just the same," Dr. Ernholm continued, "for the sake of your well-being we shall need to check for damages. I'm afraid we will need to conduct a gynecological exam."

"Now? Right here?" protested Emily.

"You may disrobe behind that screen where you will find a clean gown," instructed Dr. Ernholm.

"We must, my dear. It'll be alright," added Prof. Masterson.

Emily never liked physical exams. They were always so intrusive and impersonal. And scientists or not, these ladies were almost complete strangers. She undressed quickly behind the screen and neatly folded her clothes and placed them on a chair before donning the awkward cotton gown.

She emerged very embarrassed and vulnerable to find both professors waiting for her beside an examination table. Dr. Ernholm sat on a stool at the foot of the table and a cart of clean instruments at her side. Prof. Masterson stood beside the table with a sonogram ready to go. "Climb up, please," she said as she patted the table.

Emily mounted the table and placed her feet in the stirrups as she had dozens of times and then laid back. When Dr. Ernholm got her first glance, she gave a sharp gasp. Emily knew it was for her bareness and hoped she wouldn't ask questions.

"Gretchen?" prompted Prof. Masterson, discretely out of view.

"Nothing," came the reply.

Next came a copious application of surgical jelly (cold, of course) then the insertion of the speculum (even colder). Emily wondered if they had to keep those things in a refrigerator for some reason. The doctor pushed, twisted, and stretched open the jaws only to utter an occasional uninformative "Hmmm".

"Well, Gretchen?" said Prof. Masterson when her companion stood up.

"No tearing, bruising, or foreign matter. The cervix is closed. We must look deeper."

Emily felt more cold goop on her navel and Prof. Masterson handed Dr. Ernholm the probe. The sonogram screen fluttered to life as a grainy flurry of images emerged and undulated across it. There came a cold tingle as the doctor pressed and slid the probe over her belly from hip to hip. There were more vague "Hmmm" responses from the doctor before she abruptly handed the probe to her colleague and began removing her rubber gloves.

"Nothing," she said. "Our young friend is safe."

Emily felt great relief but knew she now trod on thin ice if she would ever get another chance to see her lover. She sat upright and next expected a lecture in the vein of 'Let this be a lesson to you'. "I guess I should be more faithful to scientific method next time," she said in hopes of appealing their sense of team spirit as she pulled her legs from the stirrups, lowered her gown and toweled off the goop.

"Alas, if we only had your youthful vigor we could..." Professor Masterson trailed off as she slowly turned her head to her associate with an expression of wondrous enlightenment.

"Eremita?" said Dr. Ernholm as the same illuminating thought reflected in her face. "Dare we ask?"

"We won't have another opportunity like this for a year," Prof. Masterson affirmed.

"Ask what? What opportunity?" chirped Emily. She was feeling like the little sister shut out of a big secret.

"My dear, we have another specimen in our lab, Prensantem Eremita, very similar to Caelibem," said Prof. Masterson as she kept exchanging sideways glances to Dr. Ernholm as if searching for guidance.

"What does Prenstan Ermita mean?" said Emily, a bit bemused.

"Prensantem Eremita, my girl," corrected Prof. Masterson. "It means Clutching Hermit."

"This specimen is susceptible only once per year...," started Dr. Ernholm.

"Wait. Clutching?" injected Emily in an apprehensive tone.

"... right now, in fact," continued Dr. Ernholm, oblivious to the interruption. "And if we had a suitable supplicant..."

"Emily," Prof. Masterson quickly overlaid, "we have been lacking a fit enough subject who is invulnerable to impregnation that we could offer to Prensantem Eremita as a... sexual affiliate... while we conduct our research."

"In the name of science," Dr. Ernholm enhanced.

Emily nearly burst with excitement at the idea but was able to compose herself. She thought she really should play hard to get but, (Are you kidding?). Yesterday she thought she would never enjoy plant sex again and now all of a sudden she had a golden ticket. "I'll do it," she exclaimed perhaps a bit too eager. "I'd be honored to contribute."

Next ensued a battle of challenges to her resolve fortified with many warnings and questions about her commitment, but Emily remained firm for she was really thrilled about a new encounter and their forebodings only piqued her curiosity. The two scientists produced a waiver for her to read and sign along with a departmental employment form (Yes! She was going to get paid for it, too!). All formalities out of the way, they gave Emily a lab coat to put on over her gown and they escorted her surreptitiously through the vacant hallways to an elevator. On the top floor, they emerged into a lab that ran half the length of the building. Past a secured door, they brought Emily into a smaller, glass-roofed lab that opened into several glass-domed alcoves on both sides.

Prof. Masterson patted the top of a gurney and said, "Hop up, my dear. Dr. Ernholm will prepare you."

Emily did as she was told. She watched Prof. Masterson climb into what appeared to be a hazmat suit and began to wonder what she had signed-up for.

The professor parted a plastic curtain and disappeared into one of the alcoves while Dr. Ernholm stoically set about attaching electrodes for an electroencephalogram about Emily's head followed by a hair net. All set, she said, "You will need to remove the gown, young lady."

Well, it was their party and if she came to have sex, nudity would have to play a part in it at some point. She bravely removed the coat and the gown and then feigned detachment as the doctor placed electrocardiogram tabs at strategic spots around her left boob. As a final touch, she pushed a sphygmomanometer cuff up Emily's right arm.

Emily was ready for launch but it was Dr. Ernholm who donned a space suit. Prof. Masterson emerged from behind the curtain and came to Emily's side.

"All ready, my dear?" the professor asked with a pat on her shoulder. She had to raise her voice to be heard through her suit's helmet.

Emily nodded and the professor pushed the gurney toward the alcove. As they proceeded, they passed another alcove and Emily noticed through the curtain some pale green mound writhing in the center of the floor. "What was that?" she said with a modicum of alarm.

Without hesitating, Prof. Masterson replied, "That one is for some other time. You would need a bit of rest before you go in there, dear."

Emily's eyes went wide with the possibilities that entailed. The gurney stopped before the doorway that the professor had been in. She could not make it out through the curtain but some big purple object waited for her at the other end of the room.

"Very good, dear. Just relax," said Professor Masterson to Emily. She gave Emily's arm a comforting squeeze.

Fully encased in plastic, Dr. Ernholm approached from the other side. She lifted a hose attached to an oxygen tank under the gurney, she fixed it to the hair net from behind, and then offered the cannula to Emily to fit to her nose. "You must rely on the oxygen, Emily. This will help you keep your consciousness," said the doctor. "Are we ready?"

"Ground Control to Major Tom..." Emily muttered to herself.

"What's that, dear?" asked Prof. Masterson.

"I am if you are," Emily said, trying hard to disguise her nervousness. This was it. Emily felt like she was a Christmas turkey being wheeled into a dining hall. As the gurney was pushed into the adjoining greenhouse, the plastic curtains parted before her and revealed what she had only barely seen before. It was a secluded lab off the main greenhouse but with heavily frosted glass to disguise its contents. A short desk was on one side with a multi-layered shelf opposite. At the end of the room, Emily beheld for the first time her new lover.

"Gulp," she said aloud. Before her at the end of the greenhouse stood what looked like a stocky palm tree. It was a glossy purple with horizontal ridges across the trunk from top to bottom. It was three feet thick at the base but gradually narrowed to about two feet at the top. From the top, a thick growth of 2-foot fronds emerged like a wild, green clown wig.

Emily stared at her unassuming suitor with wide eyes, wondering what treats awaited her. In spite of having an audience, mild arousal simmered in her. Both professors busied themselves with attaching wires to the sensors they had placed on her. The wires were bundled and then fastened to the gurney with plenty of slack to allow for free movement. They switched on the equipment and Emily heard their muffled affirmations through their face masks.

"What are her vitals Dr.?" asked Professor Masterson over her shoulder.

"100 over 65. 75 BPM" came Doctor Ernholm's response.

Wired and ready to go, Prof. Masterson squeezed Emily's hand and Emily turned to her and nodded. She spread her knees wide and the two scientists pushed her soft supple form up to the base of the fat tree like a sacrificial offering and then stepped back.

"Hi, big fella," Emily said in her best seductive tart voice. She turned to look at the doctors. They shrugged. 'Do I climb on him or does he climb on me?', she wondered. Knowing her carbon dioxide always triggered her other plant-lover, she pulled the oxygen cannula from over her nose. She took a deep breath and blew on her somber partner from its base to its bushy crown. The effect was slow to start but a soft, deep gurgle issued from inside the trunk and then the leafy fronds on the top began to lightly quiver. The quiver turned into a shudder and a faint cloud lightly fell from them and slowly wafted down over Emily. She recognized its fragrance immediately. It was that intense aphrodisiac she had enjoyed from her other green boyfriend. Both professors came forward with a screens they swept through the air and suction devices to collect samples. She flashed Prof. Masterson a quick smile before she tilted her head back and inhaled deeply. The effect was almost instantaneous as her mild arousal erupted into a vigorous orgasm. She shuddered as the lust storm surged through her, warming her skin to a blush and moistening her depths for what they were surely about to receive.

She scooted her butt to the edge of the gurney, to get closer to her lover and avail it of her charms. The narcotic effects of the plant's pheromones were working vigorously on her senses. Her arousal was rising to bubble over, her skin was tingling in anticipation of the carnal assault to come. It was everything she remembered from her rendezvous in Dr. Masterson's greenhouse and she badly needed it.

In her encounters with Dr. Masterson's giant flower, she had always been aware of the sexual advances on her body. She had felt the cool tingly sensations of the plant's secretions falling on her naked skin. She knew the plants large, fleshy petals were spreading over and clasping firmly and gently about her upturned rump. She was certainly aware of the large firm pistil penetrating her, reaching her depths, and urgently thrusting into her as tiny feelers teased and tickled about her bare pussy. There was no denying she had gotten a stupendous fucking, but she had never really witnessed what was happening to her body. This time she would not only get a thorough screwing but she would get to watch the whole wickedly engrossing event.

She reached out to the trunk with her feet and felt the rough surface as she slowly pushed upward with the balls of her feet, spread her knees wide and then drug her arches downward in a taunting caress. She reclined backward onto her elbows and poised her soft, subtle form for her lover's attentions. Her paramour was slowly waking to her allure. The long fronds on top were sweeping the air, tasting it for signs of Emily and where to access her. It located her and the trunk elongated and began to bend toward her. It stooped lower and lower. The fronds on top began to swell, becoming less like leaves and more like fingers. A number of orange-colored vines emerged from somewhere among the fronds and dangled from the writhing tangle. The vines, with round leaf-like pads spaced evenly over their surface dropped down further and further until they came into contact with Emily's legs. As soon as any vine touched her, it came to life, curling around and entangling each of her legs. The pads flattened over her skin and secreted a slick glaze to seal a sucking grasp. With their new grasp of her, the vines pulled to lift her legs higher and to draw the undulating head closer to her body. The fronds began secreting their own gooey glaze to drip upon her body in preparation for the impending merger.

Again, both scientists swept in to collect fluid samples from varied locations into vials. They were careful to avoid contact with the tree and did not interfere in any way with the merging couple. Just as quickly, they faded back into the sidelines.

More of the thick, slippery sap drooled onto Emily's skin, paving the way for the impending bond. The plant reached for her, anxious and in a need as great as the want it was fueling in Emily. The two creatures were set upon in their yearning to unite.

A party was about to engage in her pussy and Emily wanted to stoke her party mood. She slid her butt closer to the trunk and thrust her hips up to the reaching fronds. She lifted the oxygen cannula from her nose again and inhaled more of the intoxicating fragrance. She shuddered from the immediate orgasm the hit induced.

"Careful, my dear," Prof. Masterson warned.

"One seventy over one-O-five," Dr. Ernholm intoned. "Pulse... one sixty eight." Both scientists continued to collect samples of the surrounding air and snipped tiny bits of leaf and vine when an opportunity presented.

Emily had never had sex with a pit crew standing by. She had almost forgotten they were there. She returned the oxygen tube to her nose. Her head cleared a little and she continued to watch with wide eyes her erotic entanglement. More vines found her and wound around her thighs, ass cheeks, hips and waist. They lifted her hips off the gurney while pulling her thighs apart. Her pussy was being held open and accessible to the writhing mass of green tentacles poised over her. As the bushy green head bent lower toward their target, the fat fronds engaged her thighs, crept over her skin to hold her in their own slimy grasp. Reaching, pulling, spreading, the mass of tendrils swallowed her into its carnal embrace. Emily could tell she was about to be clutched real good.

The green head pushed its way between her knees. Emily aided it by wrapping her ankles around the upper trunk and embracing it with her feet like any enraptured lover would do. She thrust her hips toward it in eager anticipation of their union. Meanwhile, both observers were consumed in gawking fascination at two beings transfixed on joining to form their sexual bond.

Emily was rapt with fascination as she watched her body slowly claimed by her strange paramour. The slick green fingers had now reached her pussy and excitedly explored it. A sick chorus or tiny slurps and plops filled the room. They licked up and down the length of her slit and the opening of her vagina, which they tantalizingly teased but never broached. To her clitoris, they swiped by but never dared to linger. It was enough to drive Emily to a fit of anticipation. She inhaled deeply and another pheromone induced orgasm hit her just as gooey green tongues enveloped her ass, her hips, and up to her navel. Every square inch of her they consumed, they treated her to a maddening frenzy of pleasure. Emily thought that, surely, she would be consummated with penetration but as the fog of her climax passed, not a single tendril had entered her.