Whorticulture

She'd had it. She would have to take the plant indoors.

Lilith wiped an earth-darkened hand across her forehead and glared down at her enemy. It had not flourished in sun; it had not flourished in shade. Neither soil nor water could coax it awake. She'd thumbed through a tower of botanical manuals to no avail. She could not even identify its species. She took its obstinacy as a personal insult.

It's a strange looking thing, the nursery clerk had said, never have been able to sell it. Strange indeed. She supposed, looking at its long tendrils, that it was some kind of succulent. But she'd grown succulents (and fruit-bearing trees, and award-winning flowers). And she'd never before faced a horticultural challenge she couldn't tackle.

She threw down her spade and marched inside.

That night, Lilith repotted the plant and dropped it unceremoniously into one corner of her room. It looked almost alien in the dark, with its long, thick vines coiling up toward the ceiling. Like frizzing hair. Like her hair. It mocked her. Eventually she could take no more--she shoved the plant into her closet and threw herself into bed.

She'd lay awake only a few minutes when she heard it first: a lewd squelch from behind the closed door. It sounded like...but no, it couldn't be. She blushed at the thought. It was absurd. No, it was obscene. She turned over and folded a pillow around her head.

But still, she could hear it.

She sat up. A problem with the pipes? A trapped animal? What on earth could make a noise like that? She wasn't sure she wanted to know. Hesitantly, Lilith approached the closet and pressed her ear to the door.

Oh, but it was vulgar! Wet, squishing pops like a plunger ripped from a toilet. The longer she listened, the stranger it became. And stranger still for the gathering dew between her legs. Infuriated by her bizarre excitement, she threw open the door.

The moonlight illuminated the strangest creature Lilith had ever seen. Not an animal, certainly, but neither was it a plant. A pod had swelled in the midst of the tendrils. In its center, a gaping, meat-red maw, slick and soft, pulsing like a muscle. It seemed to gulp the air around it, each contraction producing the hateful sound that tickled her so. The tendrils waved weirdly in the dark. Every second or so one of them would snap, whip-like. Restless. They had taken on the same texture as the cavity. Is this what the plant looked like on the inside? It seemed so. The many vines now dripped with clear syrup, heavy strands accordioning on the floor in the empty space around her shoes. Lilith watched them undulate, watched the cavity's slow, erotic pulse. And it was erotic. There was no sense denying it. Surely, anyone would think so?

This is what she told herself as she stood staring, electrically aware of her own answering pulses, of her panties' growing damp.

And then the thought occurred. The inevitable, yet unacceptable, thought. The thought born of months of celibacy. The most perverse of possibilities. The thought that perhaps, perhaps she might try--?

No.

Lilith took a deep, calming breath and closed the closet door. She was not a fetishist. Not a weirdo. If she needed to masturbate, she would do so in the usual way. Normal people were not tempted by plants.

She stripped off her clothes. Laying naked on the cool sheets, she felt a familiar skin-prickle as she allowed herself to become excited. Samuel, her fiancé. Samuel, one-hundred miles away. Her nipples firmed. Samuel. She flushed. Dearest Samuel. She tipped her head back, moistening her lips at the thought of him. Skin on skin. The smell of him. Knotted limbs. The heat of him. Tangled tongues and a hard, hot, throbbing--

She stopped.

Samuel was not here. She was alone, and she was wanting. Lilith's eyes slid shamefully to the closet door. She closed them tight. A man would be better than this, she thought. At least there would be a logic to it, however wrong it was. But this...

She swallowed. She could listen to the plant, surely? Watch it dance? That would not be half as freakish as the feverish, half-formed fantasies flickering through her mind. With as much composure as she could muster, Lilith removed the plant from the closet and placed it a foot from the edge of her bed. She laid against the pillow.

It shined with moisture in the moonlight, throbbing with soft, persistent slurps. They came more quickly now, as if it had found itself in a more favorable environment. Is this what it needed all along? Did it liven only in moonbeam? It seemed to flush pink with happiness as she watched, while its tendrils--plumper now, it seemed--secreted yet thicker ropes of heavy syrup, soaking through the rug.

And all at once, Lilith's eyes teared. Because she knew what was coming. Her self-restraint was slipping away like grains of sand through an hour glass, leading up to the moment where she would commit an inexcusable act. Months of abstinence had left her with a desperate longing. And the sight of slick, quivering sex in the middle of her bedroom floor was simply too much to endure.

With a mortified whimper, Lilith pulled the plant toward her. Heat radiated from its center like a hot bulb. The nearest tendril flicked curiously in her direction, as if it sensed her presence. She allowed it to curl around her wrist. Slippery, velvet warmth coiled up her arm. Squeezed and released.

Lilith burst into humiliated sobs. How could something so wrong, so unnatural, feel so good? How could she want--(but she could not think it)--and yet she wanted--(too disgraceful!)--but she wanted--

something slick and soft to rub furiously against my cunt. I want to stuff myself full of soft vines. I want to fuck them in and out with my fingers, fuck them deep, feel them fat inside me. I want to grind madly against their squelching flesh until I have a warm, slippery orgasm. I want to moan as I throb thickly around squishy, writhing stuffing. I want to fuck and fuck and fuck--

And at this, she fell back onto her pillows and surrendered at last. More vines--or tentacles, as she now suspected they were--encircled her limbs and slid up her body, roping her into a tangle of slippery eroticism. She cried out as they teased her sensitive nipples to hardened points, sending jolts of pleasure down below. She arched her back; they responded by lifting her up off the bed, holding tighter but still soft, so soft--

And then.

And then it happened. Her singular desire from the moment the vine had touched her wrist. From the moment, perhaps, that she'd opened the closet door. One warm, dripping tentacle began to slip and slide against her vulva. Stroking. Squishing. Stimulating.

Oh, the shame! Even reduced to moaning, Lilith felt her face burn at the deviant pleasure. And what a pleasure it was--her eyes rolled and shivered as more tentacles joined the fray. They slipped inside her, twirling, swirling, stimulating every inch in ways she hadn't imagined possible. No woman alive had ever felt such a sensation. Oral sex was nothing--nothing--compared to this.

Lilith sobbed in pleasure as the tentacles worked her cunt. They undulated inside her, licking and sucking her walls like so many lips and tongues; outside, they slurped and lapped at her clitoris. Her soaking thighs trembled as yet more tendrils slipped and rolled around her, within her. How many could she fit? They were so squishy and mobile it didn't seem to matter; they made room for each other.

And their wonderous squirming didn't cease.

Inside and out, Lilith was locked in a nirvana of sensation. She wept with ecstasy as again and again she was brought to the edge. Repeatedly, they hit her sweetest note, lingered, and retreated. Lingered and retreated. Her most exquisite pleasure denied her, Lilith was soon diminished to a whimpering, shivering mess. She would have finished herself off if she could only move her arms, but she could not. The plant had teased her to the edge of endurance.

"Oh, please!" she sobbed.

She bucked as a fat muscled tentacle slid slowly up between her thighs from below, passing over her slit like a large, supple tongue. Tendrils wriggled restlessly inside her still; her legs were spread wide as their number stretched her cunt to capacity. She screamed and screamed at the feel of them--she had not imagined her depths held so much hidden bliss. But it was not enough to enjoy them. She must cum, same as she must breathe after holding her head under water.

"Please!" she begged, struggling with her captor. "OH, PLEASE!"

But it did not relent.

Sometimes it lifted her feet into the air, all the better to probe her. At others, it held her like a gentle lover, rocking a throbbing vine against her place of greatest pleasure. After a time, the tendrils at her breasts sprouted what seemed to be mouths. They suckled both breasts and swirled forked tongues around her nipples. Lilith gave a throaty moan and began to cry. She could take no more.

Hours, perhaps, was Lilith was subjected to the plant's torment. Edged, denied. Edged, denied...she had lost all sense of time. Her head lolled on the pillow, eyes half-open. She could only whimper, but it did not listen to her pleas. Perhaps it couldn't hear them. She would stay trapped here forever in a haze of blissful agony, unable to cum but unable to free herself. And all because she wanted to know what it felt like...because she could not resist...

"I need to cum," she whimpered, as weak morning light began to filter through the curtains. "Please, whatever you are. Please just let me cum."

Slowly--so slowly she wasn't sure it was happening at first--the tentacle lapping her clitoris slowed. Lilith looked up in time to see it slip out of sight. But this was not cause for celebration; she was still bound arm and leg and considerably full. As she watched, the gaping mouth in the pod expanded. Pink, moist flesh pulsed lusciously within. Oh, what pleasure it would give her! Drool rolled down her chin at the thought. She began to shake in desperation. She wanted to feel it more than she had ever wanted anything.

As it lowered itself between her legs, she knew this was it. Her final satisfaction. It squashed itself to her sopping lips, morphing seamlessly. Lilith groaned in fulfillment. Soft, hot, and wet--it felt exactly as good as she imagined it would. Then like a great mouth, it swallowed. And as it did, the tentacles resumed their dance, until at last the suction on her clitoris delivered Lilith to ecstasy.

Her eyes flew open at the dual sensation: while a mass of tentacles writhed within, the pulsing mouth gulped a monstrous pleasure from her cunt. In utter shock, she shrieked long and loud as decadent pleasure rolled through her. She thrashed. She seized. A puppet, a doll, an automaton. Nothing could describe the way her orgasm took control. And nothing could express her obscene delight in the soft, slippery, warmth between her legs. Oh, how good it felt to be loved by such a mouth!

Lilith's eyes vanished into her skull but the mouth slurped on, catapulting her to yet greater heights. Sometimes the pleasure exploded like a geyser, drawing tremendous moans. Other times, she squealed as it seared through her with exquisite intensity, as if forced through the head of a pin. And at others it sang, warming her cunt like a powerfully bright light while she cried out in joy. Eventually, it floated. A feather on a puddle. A sigh.

And finally, stillness.

Lilith heard rather than felt the tentacles withdraw. She had no more sensation left to feel. The tendrils flopped wetly onto the floor and the mouth sealed itself with a squelch. She opened her eyes a sliver and saw that it had righted itself in the center of her floor. It looked normal now. A somewhat sorry plant resigned to its indoor fate.

Then she passed out.

Lilith awoke in the late afternoon. Her sheets were soaked and cold, her muscles sore. She lay there, unsure at first of where she was or what had happened. Her brain slowly sorted itself, and as it did so, she recalled flashes of the strangest dream. Throbbing pink. Slippery vines. Ropes, screams and...an octopus?

She shook the thought out of her head and reached for her robe. A bath, she thought, would be a lovely way to start the day. There was no better antidote to nightmares than warm water and the calming sent of lavender.

Smiling, Lilith turned and disappeared into the hall, unaware that behind her, a dripping tongue emerged to probe the air.