Flower

Doing short requests (<500w)! Request for all-the-way-through.

Feel free to drop requests in the replies or into my askbox. If you’d like a leave a tip for your own request or someone else’s, my tip jar is here.

Aven struggles in the bonds surrounding him, the vines as they curl and curve around his shoulders, around his neck, coiling around his breast, his belly. His pecs stick out with the pressure, his nipples feeling unusually sensitive as he breathes in more of the shimmering silver pollen that swirls on the air before his eyes.

The apothecary had said they would respond more aggressively if you struggled, and they do, coil around him very tightly as he shifts and moves in his place. When the first tip of the vine sinks into his arse, slick and immediate and pressing so deep into him he can’t believe it for a second, even though this is the point, even though he knew —

Aven can feel the apothecary’s eyes on him as the vines pull at his wrists and ankles and spread him wider against the wall, at the same time the two tentacles sink further into him, writhing as they find their way into his guts and at the same time thicken wider, another of them curling around his cock and squeezing at it, pulling at him. His skin is throbbing more and more, hot all over, even before two of them grasp his nipples and tug on each of them, pulling them out more. It’s making his chest throb, and he can feel his chest swelling, feel the skin stretching as his pecs plump up into tits.

Elf milk, the apothecary had said he wanted, that he’d pay for, elf milk, and to let his vines flower into the bargain, and when he’d laid the money on the table Aven hadn’t even hesitated before he’d started stripping off his clothes.

He doesn’t know the apothecary’s name, he realises, but he’s a handsome sort, has big dark eyes, pretty lips, a well-groomed beard, and Aven opens his mouth to ask, but what comes out is a moan as his tits flop forward, fattened up with milk and throbbing, heavy, aching, before the apothecary comes forward and attaches a little bottle with a suction cup onto each nipple and sets them to work. Aven howls out a noise, arching his back into the hard suck on each side, hearing the trickle and drip of the new milk out of his new tits, his cock bobbing hard between their bodies with the vine wrapped tight around it, its tip teasing the opening of his hole as if it’s going to sink inside him.

At the same time, he can feel the vines writhing in him, feel pre dripping out of his cock and his balls drawing up, feels so fucking full —

“Hey,” he manages to say through the haze of pleasure, “I don’t know your — “

He chokes, gagging, as the vines force their way up and out of his stomach, slide easily up his throat and pop out from between his teeth. He whines, writhing in place now entirely involuntarily, not because he means to.

“It’s alright, some of the vines are hollow — they’re designed to let you breathe. And when you breathe…”

Aven heaves in a wet gasp, tears on his cheeks, and then lets out a sharp howl as he feels the vines shift in his mouth, shift outside of his mouth, feels the buds widen and spread as they flower. His mouth feels like it’s been made into a fucking bouquet as the vines keep working their way through him, his gut a mess of shifting vines, moving under the skin.

“Can I suck you off?” the apothecary asks, and Aven gags again on the vines that are working through him, his thighs twitching, his arse and belly so full he feels like he might burst. “I’ll pay extra,” he adds.

Aven nods, which makes the vines in his throat bulge and shift more, and then groans as the apothecary drops to his knees and sucks Aven into his mouth in one smooth, easy motion.