The Piggyback Trapper Pt. 02

The Attractive Lubricated Woman-Trapper (Attrahentis Ducatus Mulier-Inlaqueator) also known as the Long-Coated Woman-Bait (Diu Iactaret mulier-Esca) otherwise colloquially known as the Piggyback Trap or Piggyback Trapper, is a wild, free-flowering stem of growths loosely related back to the Euphorbiaceae family. It is similar in appearance to cacti in that it grows with a mass of short, stiff leaves around its root core, and similar to lilies in that it extends its flowers out on stiff, semi-solidified stems to attract in its prey. Many of its traits branch from the Droseraceae family, suggesting that at some point it may have been more closely related to the carnivorous variety of flora. The Piggyback Trap is not, however, known to 'feed' in any way off its mammalian pray and only utilises their own reproductive systems to spread and fertilise its seeds.

Glancing up from the book, Carty Holland bit her lip and looked about herself to make sure no one was watching. Why anyone would be casting a wayward eye at a meek, black-dressed girl with black hair and black clothes and beanie and a black backpack securely over her lap, she had no idea, but she felt extremely self-conscious regardless, despite the fact that she had positioned herself in a far-off corner of the enormous, grandiose library where she could see all and be seen by none. Shuffling about underneath the bag, she mentally shrugged, returned her attention to the page and read on.

The Piggyback Trap is strange hybrid that seems to pull many attributes from other unrelated plant species, such as the ability to grow long, lily-like fronds on the ends of which are primarily singular stigmas atop a thin protective shell of sepal leaves, or like its ability to emit a powerfully attracting scent similar to how Droseraceae use a viscous, sweet-smelling excretion and accompanying scent to attract insects into its traps. It is most similar to the Euphorbiaceae family in that it sacrifices many regular features of other flowers in exchange for the bare minimum required for sexual reproduction; allowing it to better utilise its meagre nutrient intake to enhance the flowers' potency.

The species is unique in and of itself in that it is the only plant that is not only unisexual (able to reproduce without sexual influence) or monoecious, but also one that never goes through a fertilisation process. A typical life-cycle of the Piggyback Trap, which in itself is short-lived, usually consists of a steady, slow formation of the plant's roots and leaves, then going through a rapid and extremely short bloom before dying off. It is one of the few species of monoecious plants that produce multiple seeds designed to stay together during their transmission cycle, with any unsprouted or underdeveloped germinations being used to feed a dominant or most-developed growth through to the time in which it breaks the surface.

Once in growth, it consumes the bare-minimum nutrients required to sustain itself, hence the prolonged germination, during which it looks almost identical to countless other harmless cacti. It is only once the Piggyback Trap flowers that it takes on its unique and symbolic look and smell. It is often thought that the Piggyback Trap's reproductive system actually utilises its 'prey' in part of the fertilisation process, at some point during the time in which the seeds are-

Carty glanced about herself again and shifted the bag once more, hoping that no one could see the way her legs were crossed beneath the ancient dining table-come-benchtop or where her hand was. She was hot, extremely hot, but she had to know more before she made any final decisions. Knowing herself, she knew what she'd do if she left the library now -- and, realising that she was more than likely going to do it anyway, she figured she might as well learn everything there was to know about it before she did it so that she would know what to expect next. Flipping the page with sweaty fingertips slightly edging their way from underneath an oversized jumper, she drank in more and more information about the Piggyback Trapper, reading on and on in squirmy silence until she came to the end of the article some ten minutes later.

By the time she looked up from the page and sat back on the soft leather bench, she could barely stop her pounding heart from racing at a gallop, and she knew she was as damp as a soaked rag. Trying not to shake visibly, she slowly manoeuvred the bag, which she had put on her lap partly for security, but mostly for some extra privacy, to her side and gathered the courage to stand up, begging that nothing had soaked through into her pants. She had double-bagged before she'd left for this exact reason, and yet still she thought she could just catch the scent of her own aroused musk floating up to her. Not to mention her fingers, which she'd had, well... There were a few reasons why she was so damp downstairs, and one as to why she knew how acutely so. Her fingers had barely held back.

It felt like an eternity, but a few minutes later, Carty was out of the library and into the cool, grey Tuesday air, her hands buried in her pockets, her head down. At 24, she was short, freckly-cute, not a little plump but curvy and very emo -- even though that was a trend that had died out nearly 80 years ago. As she passed holo-signs and ultra-long, 3-carriaged busses on the street to her side, she slipped her earphones into her ears and sank into her own world where she usually preferred to exist.

Carty had been in post-Primary school since she was 19. She'd skipped out hard on school as a kid, and by the time Post-P had come around, she'd been jobless for two years and living off her brother-in-law for nearly as long. Gay and wealthy, he had happily put her up -- at the downside of perving and usually hitting hard on anyone she tried to bring home. Whether it was to protect her or just because of his own libido, she never quite knew, but he almost always ended up scaring them away or bringing them to bed.

His bed.

Her dates.

Carty had given up on virginity. She figured she'd lost it by default at some point with the toys, and besides, she'd been on a dry spell all year now. It wasn't like it was going to matter anymore -- if she told any man she met she hadn't had sex, she probably never would. Dating scenes were just an excuse to hate yourself more for a fat girl, even still -- and she couldn't bear thinking about the process and costs she'd have to go through to get work done and implants made. Maybe, she thought wryly to herself, that was why her brother-in-law was so successful with all her -- few -- dates. He'd probably had interchangeable surgery so he could please either side.

Sighing, Carty turned the corner, her mind flitting back to the book. Already she was remembering the smell, the look, the way the fronds gently waved in the soft breeze, wafting a tiny, almost imperceptible pink mist in the air around it back and forth and slowly away across the field. From what she'd read, it had been right at the height of sexual maturity, prime and ready to unload -- and after that, within 24 hours, it would be dead and shrivelled up. She bit her lip again and knew really before she bothered making the choice which way she'd decide to go. Despite the fact that her brain told her otherwise, her hot pussy and beating heart drove her legs for her, and by the time she came to rationalising her decision, she was 10 blocks away from the corner that led from the main street back to her house, and only 5 minutes away from the field she'd found it in.

Shrugging off her pack some hundred metres away, Carty padded through the long stems. She could already smell it - or perhaps she was just remembering it more vividly as she approached where she knew it lay - and before long she emerged from the nearly taller than her fronds into a simple pathway between the fields. Out here, these paths were cropped into the ground to mark out soft boundaries for the workers who ploughed them in the fairer months, but this time in winter they were dusty and unused, the farmers able to stay inside and let the drones handle the maintenance until things began to warm up. No one would be out here yet for weeks at the earliest. She was alone.

Turning, she saw it some hundred metres along and jogged gently towards it. The wind was blowing away from her, but even as she approached it she thought she could smell that heady scent again, and as she detected it her pussy pulsed.

Stepping closer, she saw that, even in the short time between this morning and now, about mid-afternoon, it had wilted significantly. Where earlier it had been strong, with thick green leaves in a rough circle around its centre and a multitude of long, thick arms holding out their glistening pink phalluses, now it was brown around the edges, and many of the stalks had shrivelled and flopped to the dirt, the gently pulsating tubes on their ends dull and shrunken to only a small grey stub, dry and lifeless. Only a few of the tubes still remained, and of them, perhaps three were strong and coated still in their thick gel-like lubricant.

Falling to her knees before the plant, Carty shuffled closer until she knelt before one such stem. It was right out in the middle, the furthest remaining flower over the path, and she knew that to use it she would be exposing herself. But this close, with two other smaller, less damp tubes sticking up right in front of her face from the bush's centre, sucking the perfume of the plant deep into her lungs and feeling the way it coated and soothed all of her insides, she no longer cared. She had signed away the right to care when she'd turned and walked away from the city, and she had forgone any right to free will when she'd seen it waiting for her, this one thick, almost bulging stigma waiting as if for her return, as if the plant knew she would come back and had saved the last of its energy for her.

Hitching her pants down quickly about her knees, feeling how slack her legs already were, she watched the stem gently wave back and forth, slowly tipping downwards until it lightly tapped against her inner thighs, leaving clumps of clear gel on her skin where it went. She giggled at the cool sensation, watching in stunned amazement as the phallic length bent excruciatingly slowly towards her body. Slowly, it dipped below her horizon, and then, as if it knew where to go, it lifted softly upwards. Amazed, Carty watched the long, curled-back sepals slowly unfurl, contacting her legs and helping to guide it upwards. None of the books had mentioned this level of motion, she thought to herself giddily as she inhaled deeply, blurry eyes wide as the bring pink length disappeared more and more between her legs until, with a start of shock that somewhat pulled her out of her mellow trance, she realised that it had already penetrated her body and was some three inches inside her.

Gasping -- the act bringing more of the fragrant air into her body -- she realised just how effective the cool, gelatinous goo was at both numbing and disconnecting it from her body, making for the perfect vessel through which it could use its mediocre strength to part any present orifice and slip inside. It was like the most perfect of lubricants -- sticky and thick enough to cling in large amounts to the tube, yet watery and abundant enough that it could rub off onto any surface it touched, including Carty's legs and pussy. In a shudder of bliss, she realised she could just barely feel it slowly slipping up inside her body, guided and pushed by the rubbery leaves at its base, as a tiny, disembodied vibration at the edges of her labia. She shuddered again.

After a few moments, it was done, and Carty simply rocked on her hips, swaying with the breeze. Her eyes had clouded and her arms had dropped to her sides, and she stared blankly ahead, right through the plant's leaves and into the tall grass ahead of her. At her crotch, the sepal leaves slowly unfurled fully, wrapping themselves tightly up against any part of her body they could touch, until, like a stem attaching a ripe fruit to its host, Carty and the plant were one.

There was a sharp jab of pain that died away almost instantly, but Carty barely noticed it. A slight frown creased her face behind her whipping black hair, but it faded back to empty slackness a moment later, leaving Carty empty and entranced in the heady cloud the plant's misty aroma had put her in. She swayed in the breeze, limp as the grass around her, not one muscle inside her even slightly engaged. Deep within her, the pink tube pulsated softly, delivering its sacred payload, only that minute vibration present between her legs.

Sometime between an instant and an eternity later -- Carty didn't have the wherewithal for time at that moment -- Carty collapsed flat onto her back and passed out, a deep sigh of utterly intoxicated pleasure escaping her red lips as she lost herself in the weightlessness of sleep, her pants still about her legs, her bare pussy wrapped up in leaves, the plant's long green frond reaching up to connect to the tube embedded inside her, conjoining the two opposing beings.

.

Carty began to come to half way back home. Stumbling along, it took her about five minutes to wake to the point where she could comprehend the reason why she was staggering so much, discovering that she hadn't pulled her pants back up properly. A cold wind slipped through the gap her weak, fumbling fingers had left when they'd dumbly pulled her pants only up to her thighs, and as she pulled them up properly, the contact of her panties on the thick layer of creamy fluid coating everything down there reminded her somewhat of what had happened. Blinking, her vision so blurry she could only really make out the swaying grass around her, she distantly realised she had swung her bag over her shoulder, and, knowing that her personal property was safe, promptly let herself go again.

When she came to next, she was on the bus, slumped forwards, her thighs together, her legs apart beneath the chair, one hand holding onto a post so that her head could loll against it. Blinking awake, she saw unfamiliar faces around her, and drowsily sat in hazy silence until she eventually heard her stop and waddled off.

It took her the trip home before her vision cleared mostly enough, and a long, overly hot shower to clear her mind. Despite her repeated cleaning, she could find nothing but a thin, crusty layer of dampness coating her mound and inner thighs, and could feel nothing inside herself. Unable to resist herself, after digging so deep time and time again, she eventually gave up and rubbed herself into a stupor, the repeated fingering arousing her libido to an irresistible point. She cleaned again, soaked herself in the blistering warmth, and stepped out nearly an hour later, stiff-nippled and totally spent. She turned in early that night, falling into a deep, dreamy sleep full of disconnected visions of arms that reached up into her uterus to plant flowers inside her body where they would sprout into wide, thick forests in which naked girls pranced and strange deer with human vaginas sat themselves on branches of trees that would bury themselves right up to the brain inside them.

.

The Piggyback Trapper's fourth segment in the reproductive cycle involves the maturation of the seeds within the host. Often in the uterus of a compatible species' female, and occasionally in the intestines or even in some external pouches, this segment of the cycle uses the host's nutrient-rich diet to feed the seeds, siphoning small amounts off the host's body until the small white sacs are matured to a little larger than a peanut in size. Once grown, they solidify slightly, and begin to produce a clear, gelatinous fluid which most closely resembles water in appearance yet which acts most non-Newtonian in nature -- most alike edible jelly or ultrasound lubricant -- which quickly builds up within the space the seeds occupy. Each seed can produce up to three litres of fluid each, but often only produces around one litre.

As the seeds excrete this gel mass inside the host, it builds up until it fills the space, at which point it begins to harden under the pressure from the host's body until it reaches the thick gel-like viscosity mentioned earlier. During this period, the host often passes large amounts of fluid directly from their body if possible as the seeds fill the womb or tract, generally directing the host to natural areas where such excretions can be released safely. This both prepares the host for passing and ensures the seeds are in an appropriate place to be deposited.

Once the right pressure is reached, the gel hardens and the seeds stop producing more fluid. Each is suspended, thanks to their outward pressure caused by the secretion, in its own gel 'cocoon' ready for safe ejection from the host. Once ready, the host goes into labour, and the seeds slip one by one form the host's body until none remain, protected entirely by the thick cocoon of gel lubricant even from passage through tight or extra-reactive passageways. Any excreted fluid left behind is usually passed with the next natural cycle.

One other note of importance is the effect this secreted gel has on the host. Aside from being a natural lubricant, soft shell and means of adapting the seeds to different hosts, this gel, notably harmless to almost all mammalian species, has been frequently observed causing strong auto-erotic reactions in the host. Some species react favourably, while others collapse or pass out from the sensation overload -- what causes it is unknown, as there has been no research conductible thus far via real-world tests other than observations made from captured hosts after impregnation. The only fact clear is the universally orgasmic nature of the otherwise benign fluid. It is thought that this secretion is used to control the subject's state of presence in the moment of passage -- ensuring one stays still, for example, or helping cause them to tense and retract, forcing the seeds out. It may simply be a side-effect of the process and only intended as a reward for the species' successful reproduction, but this, despite being backed up by what little we know of the initial implantation process, is merely speculatory.

Sprinting, Carty only just made it to the toilet in time before the explosive spray came out. She ripped her pants down unceremoniously and threw herself on the seat just in time to hear the fire hose gush that signified her passing. She went for nearly a minute, and when she was done, she looked down to see a clear, slightly filmy substance beneath her.

Cleaning herself up with an abundance of paper towels, Carty left her classes behind and made her way out of the city. She knew what was happening to her body -- after she'd finally come fully to the next morning, she'd read up on anything she'd missed, including online forums and shady anonymous spaces that talked about the plant, correlating everything she could find that matched and didn't match her experience so far -- and everything pointed to this being the moment she passed her first 'cache' of seeds. By the time she was a block away, she was already busting again, and quickly found and went in a public restroom. Luckily for her, public stalls the world over these days had comprehensive self-cleaning mechanisms that would efficiently wash the spray she'd left on the walls and floor away long before the next occupant arrived.

By the time she found the path she'd wanted to use, she was busting again. She hadn't taken a bag today, so all she needed was herself. Setting off at a run, dressed in simple black track pants and a shirt, she tried not to notice how bulging and bloated her body felt. She'd intended to make it to the start of the gardens just outside the city edge, but collapsed about three hundred metres away. She crawled behind a bush, her crotch already damp, and let go.