The Yoni Flower Ch. 04-05

"What the heck..." I gasp, reaching for the petal curling up towards my belly.

When my finger meets the veiny, beige 'skin' of the flower petal, a tickling sensation shoots up to my vagina and tingles its way through my body.

"No way..." Now I reach for the pointy, arrowhead tip of the petal and pinch it hard. "OUCH!" I cry out. "Fuck, it feels like I just pinched my labia... But... how?"

Now that I'm really looking at where my labia are plastered to the petals meet, the light brown flesh curtains of my inner pussy lips no longer look like they're clung to the petals, it looks like the petals have grown over my skin a bit.

It's not just glued to me anymore; it's fused my skin...

Instead of pulling the petals back like I did yesterday, I flex my vagina as hard as I can and, in response, the petals straighten out like a flat starfish.

Did I just... Did I just control it?

I reach both hands underneath the flower and I lightly touch the vibrant pink underside of two different petals. When my fingers press into the warm, soft, wet, vagina-like squishiness, the petals twitch from my caress, sending surges of pleasure racing from the leafy growths up into my vagina.

It feels like I just fingered myself, I think, trembling with sweet agony as I lightly trace my middle finger down the length of the petal's underside all the way to the slit. And upon I inserting my finger inside the tight, slick hole in the flower's center, I push all the way into the middle of what used to be the spadix, it feels exactly like I'm just slipping a finger into my vagina.

No, scratch that, I think, pulling my finger out of the tightness only to slide it back in even deeper than before. It feels like I'm fingering a tighter, wetter, more hypersensitive version of my pussy even though I'm not even touching my pussy...

"Or maybe I am touching my pussy," I moan, the flower's pussy hole squelching as I finger it hard and fast. I'm feeling what the flower feels because it's not just stuck in me anymore, it's fused to my vagina--it's part of me... "AHHHH! OOHH-AH!" I cry out as I climax.

As a mind-scrambling orgasm--as the best orgasm of my life ripples through my flower, my pussy, my womb, and then my body, the petals flex open wide only to close around my hand over and over with each pleasant contraction, the dripping petals hitting the skin on my arm and hand with wet, sticky slaps.

God this thing is so wet. No, the juices dripping from the petals and the hole are not just from it or from me, it's from us. We are wet.

As I lay there drunk with pleasure, my body a limp mess of limbs, I think back to the tingling, the vaginal fever, and the sloughed off vagina and womb chunks that came out of me last night with each cramp.

The reason it doesn't feel like the spadix is stuffed inside of me anymore is because there is no spadix inside of me--the spadix has become one with my birth canal as the petals have essentially become extensions of my labia. The plant wasn't digesting my pussy so it could consume me for sustenance, it was liquifying itself and me so it could merge its flesh with mine, a symbiotic unification that allows it to draw nutrients directly from my blood rather than digesting me...

I look down at the petals as they're curling back into a relaxed state and drooping slowly between my legs like five leaf-shaped penises all simultaneously losing their erections.

The veins on the leafy petals have now gone from beige to the color of blood because they've connected to my vascular system. But it's not just its flesh and veins that fused with mine, but also its nerves--because what touches it, I feel.

While plants don't have neurons, this bizarre plant surely had some kind of nervous system before I even screwed it, because it did react to touch with throbbing and sap gushing. Also, when I masturbated with the phallus to climax, it knew to ejaculate a secondary slime in me before swelling and locking itself inside my vagina after its slime made my vagina clench around it. Then last night, without even being attached to the stalk, it flexed inside of my vagina on its own and throbbed inside of me like a heart so it could spew out that pink mashed potato-looking stuff out of me. And that was before I started feeling whatever sensations the flower was feeling.

That means, at some point during the additional ten hours of sleep following the 1:30 a.m. cramps last night, its nerves rapidly merged with mine, allowing me to feel whatever pain and pleasure it feels--allowing me to control when the petals open and close by flexing and relaxing my vaginal muscles.

"The flower is me and I am the flower," I say softly, smiling as I caress my way from my flower's puckered pussy hole to the slick underside of the petals.

But how can a plant merge with an animal?

Between flora and fungi, fungi are the most similar to animal cells, that's why it's sometimes difficult to treat fungal infections without harming our own cells--that's why ringworms and candida can grow in and on us.

I sit up and caress my petals, my core twitching with each sensual tickle. "If this isn't a special plant that is somehow capable of fusing to human flesh, that means this thing that has grafted itself to my coochi isn't a parasitic or carnivorous plant at all..." I take off my fleece then I pull off my long sleeve shirt. "That means it is a fungus that not only mimicked a flower's appearance to lure prey it, but it also mimicked human penis because it needed to find its way into vagina so it could merge with it..."

The question is, why? Why does it need a vagina specifically? And how is this species even alive when most women of sound mind would never masturbate with an unknown penis-shaped lifeform growing out of the ground?

The image of the squishy tapioca pudding-like mass webbed in veins that I uncovered beneath the flower's soil the mound flashes in my mind.

That pod-mass must have contained a store of nutrients that it stole from nearby plants and fungus in the area to sustain itself while it remained dormant for centuries or possibly eons, waiting until someone like me came along, got aroused by its pheromones, and decided to have sex with it... Maybe that's why there was nothing growing in the clearing around the tree hollow, not even moss--and this forest is covered in the stuff...

After pulling on the sundress that I had on yesterday, I give my petals an over the skirt rub. "Are you the only one of your kind? Will another one of you sprout from those little fruit things that were growing inside your sac?" During my crawl out of the tent, the flower throbs and blossoms between my legs from the sensation of my dress brushing against it.

Guess I'm going to have to get used to things touching my sensitive flower... And I'm going to have to get used to these petals slapping the inside of my legs for the rest of my life...

For breakfast, I have oatmeal, which is unfortunate that this is the only breakfast I have left because all I can think about as I chew the mush it is the disgusting pod that looked like what I'm eating...

Despite being grossed out by my meal, I devour it because it's sweet thanks to obscene amount of brown sugar I mixed into it. Normally, I only put a table spoon of sugar into my oats, but I'm really, really craving sugar today, so I ended up dumping in the three to four table spoons I still had left in the baggy.

As soon as I'm finished eating, I finger my flower once more, schlicking my new tight hole until another petal-flexing, sap-gushing orgasm rips through me, scrambling my thoughts. Once I come down from my flower play, I get to work taking down my shelter. It's takes nearly thirty minutes to breakdown and pack away the tent. And once I get all rolled up and attached to the underside my backpack, I venture through the bush back to the trail.

Now that my vagina isn't burning and tingling anymore--now that I'm not feverish, I'm not really in a rush to go back home today. All I really want to do is hike back to the clearing where I discovered this skirted dick flower so I can investigate the underground pod. Because I desperately need to know why the jets of goo that erupted from deep underground were so warm when anything under the soil should be cooler than my body temperature.

It's only after staring up at the sky that I decided against going back. Looks like there are rain clouds on the horizon rolling in from the west--the direction I need to hike to get out of the Hoh Rainforest.

The pod is over an hour in the opposite direction that I need to go to get to my car. If I leave now and walk at a brisk pace, I might be able to hike the fifteen miles to the visitor center where I parked before it rains. If I go back to where the pod is, I'll probably get rained on before I even finish digging it up. Then I'll have a four-hour hike ahead of me in a rain storm.

I'd also like to plant those testicle-looking fruits before they rot or dry out...

With a huff, I face left then start walking west. "Home it is then..."

That pod better still be in tact when I venture back out here in a few days...

A preview of what's to come in the next post (to be posted next week 2/11/22):

Chapter 6: Flower Reveal Party -- Allie invites her two closest friends over & shows the girls her new downstairs situation. In this chapter, Allie's new downstairs situation gets its name.

Chapter 7: Through the Looking Glass -- Allie pays a visit to her OB/GYN and she learns the changes haven't stopped at her vagina...

Chapter 8: Penis/GuyTrap (F/M) -- Following the upsetting news she received from her doctor, Allie gets drunk then goes home with a random guy so she can finally get her hypersensitive flower hole dicked down nice and good. By the end of the night, she'll learn that, whether she has a normal pussy or a sap-dripping yoni flower, unprotected sex can have consequences...