The Yoni Flower Ch. 04-05

Author's Note:

Hello dear reader! I forgot to mention last post that this story will have a total of 22 chapters.

Also, fair warning, chapter 4 is more splatterpunk than erotica, but it's necessary for the overall story to convey how this plant does what it does to the women who diddle it. There's some solo stuff coming up in chapter 5 (below) and some girl-on-girl exploratory play coming up in chapter 6 (next post, which should be out by 2/11/22 at the latest), but the next big sex scene with ooey-gooey, guy on girl fun is in chapter 8 (also next post). I know everyone is looking for tons of sex and whatnot, but it's hard to write a book with all sex and no story, so I figured I'd just give you all a head's up now where the sex scenes are so no one is disappointed when they get to the end. If you want to skip ahead to the sex scenes, I'll keep posting here in the author's note and at the end of each post where the naughty stuff will be. Whatever it takes to keep my readers informed and happy!

Enjoy!

Chapter 4

Slough

Saturday

Since soaking in the creek at the mouth of the waterfall's pond didn't help dissolve the adhesive in a timely matter, I decided to give up and hurry my ass back to the river by my campsite before sunset. That way, if soaking in the river winds up not helping and things happen to get worse down there, I'd at least be close by the ranger station.

About halfway through the three-mile speed walk through dense, mossy forest, the temperature inside my spadix-stuffed cooter seems to have stopped heating up, leveling off to what feels like the temperature of a hot water bladder. It's very warm and, while it's quite uncomfortable, it's not like it's burning or anything. Also, the fizzy tingling feeling has also waned once again. For now.

This entire hike, my mind has been racing--scrambling to figure out why a plant that's the perfect shape for a human woman's vagina would basically glue itself inside of a mammal's genitals only to detach and leave with her. It makes even less sense considering I ingested both secretions and my mouth or throat didn't get all glued shut. I try to figure out why that would happen and why it's making my pussy tingle and increase in temperature.

There are two explanations that I come up with:

One, like the Monotropa uniflora--or the ghost pipe plant--the skirted arum plant that I decided to fuck was completely void of the green phototropic cells needed for photosynthesis. And, since chlorophyl lacking plants are often parasites who steal nutrients from a network of fugus who in turn steal sustenance from other plants, it's safe to assume that the skirted phallic flower growing in the dark hollow of a giant spruce was drawing energy from that gross, body temperature pod underground. Because if there's heat, there's energy.

But the pod didn't seem like a fungus that the flower was living off of, the underground mass seemed to be a part of it--like a gross taproot where it stored its sap and whatever that white and brown stuff it ejaculated into me...

So, if it's not a parasitic plant, there's a chance that it's likely just carnivorous. Carnivorous plants like the pitcher plant and Heliamphora use their nectar's sweet scent to lure in insects and small vertebrates, then the smooth wax lining the cupped leaf makes the prey slip into a pool of digestive enzymes that converts them into a solution of amino acids, peptides, ammonium, and urea. But the weird thing about the skirted phallic arum inside of me is that the petals were facing downward when I found it, so it's not like an insect would feed from the sap gushing up from bulbous tip then fall into the petals where it would get trapped. Also, the underside of the leaves were colorful, not the outside, which is counterintuitive to a plant that wants to attract bugs...

What sort of prey would a plant shaped exactly like a cock need?

A vagina of course. A human vagina, because what other animal would try to mate with a plant other than a perverse woman?

The more I think about it, the more it makes sense. I mean, I was without a doubt lured to that plant by its intoxicating scent, and I started getting aroused before I even saw the thing. The second I stroked it, it throbbed and lubed itself like it was making itself ready for intercourse. And as soon as I started fucking it, it swelled up inside of me like it was trying to keep itself embedded in my pussy. Then it ejaculated warm jets of hot cream into me, flooding my cavity--a cream that likely caused my pussy contract and cramp around it like a vice right after. It expanded in me the same time my sex clamped around it, and by the time I tried pulling it out, the sap and goo rapidly catalyzed into an adhesive that basically glued it to my flesh...

On top of all of that, the flower ejected its stem from the core of the phallus as though it no longer wanted to be attached to the underground pod filled with slimy nutrients. It didn't want to remain attach to the stalk because it wanted to leave inside of the sex organ it was made to live inside of...

Does that mean my vagina is tingling and warming up because there are digestive enzymes liquefying my flesh so it can feed off of me, it's new host?

"Oh fuck," I whisper, going from powerwalking to jogging as the horrific realization makes my heart jackhammer in my chest.

After running the last three-quarters of the third and final mile, I stumble downhill then barrel through the brush onto the trail. From there, it's only a short walk to the secluded river that's a few yards off of the trail.

I move through the dense bushes and weave through the fern-covered trees and step onto the squishy bed off moss that leads to the river. There was no one on the tail, and I can't see anyone in the woods around me, so I drop my backpack against the tree, pull my dress over my head then set it on top of my pack. Looking down past my small breasts, I stare at the five starfish-like petals dangling out of my coochi. Even after being detached from the stalk, they don't look shriveled or withered at all. In fact, when I touch them, they're still pretty firm, and the pink, fleshy underside of the petals are all still damp and warm to the touch--the same temperature as my skin. The hole at the center of the flower feels even warmer than before when I finger it. And when I pull my finger out from under the petals, it's slick with a milky slime that has little pink chunks in it.

I suck my finger clean with a smack. "Tastes like..." I smack my lips again. "Tastes like a slightly sweeter version of my normal vaginal secretions, but with a tinge of bitterness..."

Without further ado, I step into the cold water, sloshing my way through the river until I'm knee deep in it. That's when I squat down into the rushing waters, shivering as I sit my bare ass on a smooth, flat rock. I'm facing the direction of the current with my legs spread wide so that the force of the river can flow right into the flower's hole. Seconds after doing so, cold water finds its way to my feverish cervix, and damn does it feels so fucking good.

The minutes creep by. I've been sitting in the river so long that my fingers are pruning and my body temperature is starting to drop. When I sat down, the sun was just above the tree line. Now it has disappeared behind the towering trees and the sky is taking on the orange, purplish tinge of evening. To my best estimation, I've been sitting here like this for maybe thirty or forty minutes. Even though I've been soaking for that long, the fever in my vagina seems to have gone down a bit, but it's still noticeably warm and a little tingly in there.

More bad news: I still can't even peel my pussy lips off of the petals nor can I pull this thing out of me.

The water is definitely filling the flower's canal because my cervix feels nice and cool, but the water doesn't seem to be getting between the spadix and my vaginal walls at all... Even if it was, it probably wouldn't make a difference since I can't peel my labia off of the petals...

"This water isn't doing shit to dissolve this flower's adhesive..."

The crazy thing is, when I lift the petals and finger the flower's flooded canal, it's still warm to the touch and it still feels slick despite being full of cold water.

If it's still slick while wet, the lubrication is hydrophobic. But how is it still flower still so warm inside?

"Fuck!" I shout, my jaw trembling. A sigh escapes me as I look to the sky.

It's going to be dark soon, so I better get back to camp...

After surveying the area and deeming that it's clear of people, I rise from the river and slosh my way back to shore. With every stride, water pours out of my flower in spurts. When I get to my backpack, I fish out my towel and my fleece jacket, then quickly dry myself off. Once my sundress is back on, I put on my fleece and zip it up all the way to my chin.

My campsite isn't in the official campgrounds, but hidden in a beautiful, mossy, fern-covered wonderland that's nestled in a clearing with a stream about a quarter mile from the trail--a mile from the part of the river I just chose to soak in.

I'm shivering during the entire walk, and I'm starting to get really drowsy. The longer I trek, the sleepier I get, the more of a struggle it is to walk, and the colder I feel, despite wearing this warm jacket and sweating.

By the time I spot my tent through the pair of Douglas fir trees, I feel like I'm about to pass out, and I'm not sure if that's because I haven't eaten a real meal since I left here around noon or if it's because this plant inside my cooter is doing something to me.

After getting a fire going, I shed my sundress then put on a long sleeve shirt and a pair of sweatpants. It probably goes without saying, but it's a bitch putting on pants when you have five thick, hand-sized leaves hanging out of your vagina. The petals keep bunching up in the crotch of the pants so I have to tuck the ones on the left and right into the corresponding pant legs then I lift the one in front up towards my belly button and tuck it in the waistband the way guys do with their boners. The last petal, I leave folded up toward the one I have tucked against my belly.

That'll do, I think, shivering as I put my fleece back on.

While I warm myself by the fire, I use the hot water I just boiled to rehydrate the last of my Mountain House chicken and mashed potato entrees. Even while I eat all layered up by the fire, I still feel really cold.

Not cold, feverish, I think, touching the back of my hand to the flesh between my neck and chin. I'm definitely having a reaction of some kind to this plant. I don't know if the reaction in my vagina is giving me a low-grade fever or if this is the result of being poisoned from ingesting the sap...

I sigh hard with an uneven, trembling breath. "Shit... I think I need to get to the hospital..."

Too bad I'm, like, ten-miles from my car or the ranger station. And I barely have it in me to stand, never mind hike that far in the middle of the night...

I check my phone. "And, of course, I still don't have service this deep in the forest."

I don't have a choice but to sleep it off, I think, rising from the log I've been using as a seat. and.

Upon disposing my empty food pouch into the waste bag that I hung from the tree, I crawl into my tent, zip it shut, and worm my way into my sleeping bag. The next thing I know, I'm dozing off.

Painful cramping in my womb wakes me in the dead of night. And, as my eyelids snap open, my vagina throbs with a sharp cramp that is accompanied by this bubbly, squirt noise between my legs that sounds like someone is squeezing a lemon with a handful of mac and cheese. It sounds like the flower stuffed inside me just sharted...

"Ah-oooh," I groan as I sit up with my hand pressed against the base of my belly. "What the shit..."

It's only after the wave of pain passes that I realize the fever is pretty much gone and my body is drenched in a cold sweat. As I shift in my sleeping bag, I feel something thick squishing between my thighs. Whatever it is feels thick and cold like jelly, so I know the crotch of my sweats aren't drenched because of the cold sweat...

During my shimmy out of the sleeping bag, my uterus cramps hard, then my vagina cramps right after, making me double over in pain. "Ahhh!" And just like last time, the vagina contraction is followed by a bubbly, squirt. After clicking on the battery powered lantern beside my bedding, I lift my ass off of the ground and yank my sweatpants down. My eyes widen in horror at the sight. "What the fuuuck..."

The petals sticking out of my pussy is blossomed, its petals unfurled like an opened hand with its fingers slightly curled inward. And when I pull the stiff and very warm petal that's right beneath my clit up and to the side, I find a gelatinous mass of what I can only describe as pink mashed potatoes mixed with chunks of red Jell-O. The gunk is clumped up on the bottom petal and in between my thighs...

It looks like that time I had that weird period where my endometrium sloughed off in one big chunk... It resembles like that, but pink like the flesh of my vagina and not a dark, bloody red...

"Oh my fuck... Is that... is that liquified uterine and vaginal flesh?"

As those words leaves my mouth, my uterus cramps hard again, followed by another painful vaginal contraction. At the same time, the petal pinched between my pointer and thumb flexes hard as the flower blossoms. With a bubbly spurt, slimy pink chunks gush out from the flower's hole like vomit.

The sight makes me gag hard. "That's so fucking gross..." The musky, fleshy, slightly metallic and floral smell that wafts up into my nose makes me gag even harder. "It even smells sort of like menstruation..."

In a fit of panicked desperation, I grip the flower between the petals and the inch of exposed spadix then pull the warm, gently throbbing thing as hard as I can. Just like the last few times I tried yanking this plant out, it doesn't budge, it just pulls my inner flesh so hard that my eyes water and I fold over in pain.

Sobbing, I just sit there in defeat, staring at the chunky stuff still being excreted from my flower's hole. As grossed out as I am, I'm curious to know if it tastes like me or if it tastes like plant, so I stick my finger into the jiggling, gelatinous glob and bring the pinkish chunks with flecks of deep red to my mouth. Reluctantly, I scrape the gunk off of my fingers with my bottom row of teeth, letting the warm jelly splat onto my tongue. Whatever this stuff is, it has the thickness and texture of cottage cheese. And it tastes just like it smells--it tastes like someone chewed up a flower, a bit of honey, some pork, and a few drops of blood then spit it onto my tongue... The consistency is like a mix between gritty mashed potatoes and gelatinous cranberry sauce.

"Bleh," I gag, spitting the gunk right onto the glistening horror scene between my legs. It takes everything in me not to hurl.

The cramping and subsequent oozing of pink gunk from my pussy's flower comes in waves that ripple through me at shorter and shorter intervals. For thirty long minutes, I sit there crying in my tent with my legs spread, watching the filth being ejected. And on that thirty-fifth minute, there's one really hard cramp that squeezes out the smallest volume of gunk I've seen thus far.

With that last cramp, the flower petals all suddenly relax and go limp. After no more cramps follow in the next ten minutes that I sit there staring down between my legs, I decide that whatever was happening is done.

Thank God that's over, I think, grabbing the empty plastic food container from my backpack. Now I begin scooping up mess in my sweatpants and the gunk on the floor of my tent into the Tupperware.

Once all the flower's excrement is cleaned up, I emerge from my tent and rinse off the flower's still warm petals with some water. Then I shove the nozzle of my sports bottle up into the flower's hole and squeeze a jet of water inside, blasting my cervix. Except the jet of water doesn't stop at the cervix, it goes much deeper than that as though I'm dilated or something...

When I pull the nozzle out, water rushes out along with a few chunks. It takes two more rounds of douching for the water to come out chunk free. Just to make sure the flower's canal is clean, I finger the tight and very warm hole in the center of the petals to make sure no more of that filth is still up in there. Satisfied that no more bits are coming out, I pull on my pair of backup sweats and crawl back into my tent.

"I can't believe all of this is happing to me," I whisper with a huff as I crawl back into my sleeping bag. "If I ever get this flower out of my coochi, I will never again fuck any weird-ass plants or mushrooms that I can't identify... I promise..."

I shut my eyes and try my best to think about anything other than what I went through today or what I just watched being expelled from between my legs.

Chapter 5

Part of Me

Sunday

The second I open my eyes I'm blinded by the glare shining through the white fabric of my tent.

I groan. "Why is it so damn bright?" I say with a groggy voice, peeking through one eye at my Garmin watch. "What? How is it already 12:45 p.m.?" I spring up from my bedding. "I never sleep in this late..." Of the four days I've spent camping out here, I always got up around first light. Even when I'm on vacation, I only ever sleep until maybe 9:00 a.m.

I guess I did sort of wake up in the middle of the night to deal with that weird cramping from my flower's goo expulsion... And I guess it did take me a bit to fall back asleep, but I shouldn't have slept in this long.

"Speaking of my flower..." I whisper as I scooch back out of my sleeping bag, staring curiously down at my pants-covered crotch when I realize there's no tingling, warmth, or ever pressure inside my vagina anymore. "Did it finally drop out of me in the middle of the night?"

As I'm pulling my sweats down, the fabric tickles what feels like my pussy lips. It feels so good that I Kegel, and when my vaginal muscles clench, the crotch of my pants bulge with the blossoming flower.

I guess it is still in me... But why don't I feel stuffed anymore? And why did it feel like my labia just flexed like a starfish?

When I pull my pants down to my thighs, I find that the flower is right where I last saw it, it's fleshy petals partially blooming outward once they're free of my pants. It still doesn't look withered at all. In fact, the flower looks plump and full of life--a bit rosier than I remember, it's once pale veins now a purplish red.

Maybe I can pull it out now that I don't really feel it inside of me anymore...

When I curl my fingers around the bit of spadix between my pussy lips and the beginning of the fleshier than ever looking petals, I jump and snatch my hand away...

I reacted that way because, the moment I touched it, it felt like I touched myself. Which doesn't make sense. Because my fingers were centimeters away from my stretched labia...

As soon as I work up the nerve to curl my fingers around it again, I feel it right away. The bizarre sensation makes my core spasm, which in turn makes the long petals between my legs blossom wide like a hand stretching its fingers, and I felt it. I felt it as though it wasn't the petals that splayed out like that--it feels like my labia just opened up and flexed...