The Yoni Flower Ch. 01-03

They look like actual testicles... Of course, a penis-shaped flower has two fruits in a leafy scrotum that looks just like a man's balls, I think, grinning and shaking my head. Curious as to what they taste like, I stick my tongue in the sac's hole and give the one I pushed toward the center a lick. The squishy ball feels rubbery like calamari against the tip of my tongue, and it doesn't taste the least bit sweet at all. It's just bland. Doesn't taste like fruit... I wonder what would happen if I planted these in my backyard... Would they sprout a new skirted dick flower? Only one way to find out...

After grabbing the collapsible silicone bowl from my backpack, I gently tear the scrotal tissue away from the stalk. Once the membrane is removed, I find that the rubbery balls are attached to the stalk with thin, fleshy cords. It doesn't take much effort to rip the first one away from the withered stem. As soon as I yank the second one free, I place both balls back in the sac then place them in the dish for safekeeping.

With the scrotum-like fruit pouch is safely tucked away in my backpack, I continue brushing away more of the soil beneath the stalk. Beneath where the ball sac was, I uncover another inch of stalk before finding the bottom of the plant. Well, not really the bottom, at least I don't think it is because it's connected to something bizarre. There aren't any roots--at least not in the traditional sense. Growing down and out from the base of the underground portion of the stalk are dozens of fleshy white cords that branch into skinny white threads resembling mushroom mycelium.

These threads look just like what came out of the phallus's tip...

There are also pale pink veins on either side that are thick like arteries. Both types of roots are webbed across a squishy mass that has the color and texture of slimy oatmeal that's been left out to harden for a few hours, forming fleshy skin.

It looks like a slime mold made of creamy oatmeal...

And the smell that wafts up from the hole I've dug... It's earthy, a bit floral, and kind of musty with faint putrid notes...

My nose curls and I wretch. "What the fuck is this..." I gasp, poking it with a finger.

The subterranean mass feels exactly like I'm pressing into someone's flabby belly, and it freaks me the hell out. As I continue pressing harder into the surprisingly tough yet squishy rind, my finger pokes something hard beneath the surface that makes me snatch my hand away.

"Eww!"

It was like pressing into an overweight body and hitting bone...

"It was probably just a root or something..."

Now I press my whole palm onto the fleshy rind. As I push down hard on what feels like a waterbed filled with mud, thick white paste with clear brown-amber streaks erupts out of the flaccid stalk like a volcano spewing puss and sewage, sending the gunk dripping onto my hand.

I spring up to my feet and back away from the stalk. "Oh gawd..." I wretch. "Why's it so warm?" That's when a horrific realization hits me. "Whatever the flower ejaculated into me came from this gross pod-thing..." The thought of my womb and vagina being pumped full of this filth makes me gag, but I somehow keep myself from puking.

How far does this squishy, underground pod go? I scan the dirt mound I'm standing on as I walk backwards off of it, the petals of the flower between my legs slapping my inner thighs with each step. God walking around with my pussy this stuffed is worse than the time I spent a day with Bok Choy stuffed up there... But at least the spadix's swelling is going down.

It's only now that I'm not enthralled by the plant that I notice that the stalk isn't jutting out of the dead center of the mound like I thought, but, longways, it's actually closer to one end than the other--about the distance a penis would be from a man's feet if his body was the length of this mound...

"How bizarre..." I whisper, eyeing the bulge in the earth before me. "Hmm..." The oval dirt mound is about six-feet-long, almost two-feet across, and about six-inches higher than the rest of the soil in this clearing. Since it's the only mound as far as I can see, it's safe to assume that this pod or whatever probably spans the entire bulge of soil... And, even though there are no tree roots inside this hollow, I doubt the mass reaches the walls of the trunk.

To test my hypothesis, I kneel just 'south' of the stalk, and I dig a small hole until my finger bumps something squishy beneath the soil. When I brush away a bit more dirt, I uncover more roots webbed across the gross, flabby encasing. The same thing happens when I dig a hole at the top of the mound by the opposing bark wall. And when I kneel with my back to either entrance to the hollow to dig holes left and right of the mound, it's no different. But when I go a foot away from each of the four holes and dig six inches deep, I find nothing.

There aren't even tree roots this far from the mound, which is odd considering I dug holes close the bark walls inside this hollow trunk...

The curious, nature-loving botanist in me desperately wants me to clear the entire mound of soil away so I can uncover the entirety whatever this squishy mass is that lies beneath.

I want uncover it, cut it open, and find out what's inside, then I want to take samples back home with me so I can get it tested at the University of Washington...

The thought crosses my mind that I might not be able to find my way back here since I've wandered over three-miles through the dense rainforest from the Hoh River trail to get here.

"Screw it... I'm digging it up while I'm here, otherwise I'll wonder about it forever..."

I drop onto my knees before the hole at the 'southern' end of the limp stem. It's at that moment that I realize the tingling in my vagina has faded significantly. It's faded, but there is a new sensation spreading from where the plant's phallus is pressed against my cervix down toward my labia.

"Ah... Ugh... Why does my vagina feel so hot?" Well, maybe not hot, but it's warm, like a well-hung guy with fever just stuffed me with his toasty cock.

Temperature change is the sign of a chemical reaction, I think, hiking up my skirt and wrapping my hand around the flower's phallus. To my surprise, the spadix shrunken back to its original size at some point while I was digging holes. Still, when I tug it down with moderate force, it doesn't slide out even a little. The fizzy tingling that I was feeling for the last twenty minutes or so was also likely a sign of a chemical reaction, I think, squeezing the plant harder than ever before and yanking it downward with a bit more strength.

It still doesn't budge; it just pulls my inner flesh so hard I cry out in pain. "AAAHH-HAAA-HA-AH!" It takes a moment to regain my composure after that. "Alright," I huff, panting afterwards. "I think I need to get to the river right the fuck now," I say, kicking the soil I dug up back into the hole before me. "Once I get this flower out of my vagina, I'm going to grab my shovel from my tent and I'm going to come back here and find out what you are," I say to the soil mound.

After quickly filling back in all of the holes, I pick up my panties and my cell phone, grab my backpack from the entrance to the hollow, then I race across the clearing. As though I'm running from a forest monster, I charge through the brush, walking hastily in the direction of the sound of the waterfall as the petals dangling from my genitals slap loudly against my thighs. The fever inside my vagina gets warmer and warmer with each passing minute. Then, gradually, the fizzy tingling returns more intense than before.

Panic sets in. My heart races. Oh god... what's happening down there?