Only when she squinted, confused and glancing towards the open closet door, did she see what had touched her.
The rose! Or, not quite the rose, per se, but an extension of it. The rose itself remained in its case, but sneaking through the keyhole was a vine. The vine grew from the stem, snaking out of its glass entrapment, then it widened to the size of her pinky finger and floated in the air where she'd just been sitting. The plant tendril faced her as if it was watching her. As she stared at it, it stared back, and then it drifted closer.
The viney finger stretched, growing, until it hovered in front of her face. Alena watched it, amused and curious. So this was what the rose did? Strange, that, but she liked it. It was interesting and she enjoyed interesting things.
The viney finger poked her in the nose, making Alena laugh. "Stop that," she said.
The vine backed away, startled.
"Oh! Oh no, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you," she said.
Did it understand? This was magic, she thought, and so maybe it understood magically? What kind of magic, though? Was it alright to stay here, speaking with the rose, or should she figure out a way to escape? She thought—and she had no real reason to think this—that she should stay. If it meant to harm her, it would have done so already. And, what was the worst that could happen? The vine was so small that she could push it away and leave the bedroom if need be.
While she thought of these things, the tip of the vine shook. It shook and wriggled, then sprouted, blossoming into a miniature version of the rose flower in the case. Alena laughed, giddy and delighted.
"Oh! That's pretty. Is that for me?" she asked.
The flower gave a curt nod, as if agreeing with her, and then slithered forward. Alena moved close to it, elated with the fresh scented rose. She'd never known magic before except from the stories, and here in one day she'd seen two magical things! First, Everett, the beast, who was every bit as wonderful as she imagined, and now this lively rose.
There was something odd about the scent from the flower, though. Alena couldn't put her finger on it, but she thought it was a bit off. It did smell like a rose, but different, too. She moved her nose closer, hoping to figure it out, and at that very same moment the rose moved closer to her, too. Before she knew it, she had her nose pressed into the center of the blossom. A spray of pollen fluttered out of the flower, then onto and into her nose.
Alena sneezed. The force of it blew the flower back and the vine retreated to safety a few feet away. Alena sneezed again, and then a third time. Bracing herself against the wall, befuddled, she wiped her nose of pollen.
The vine floated in the air nearby, watching her.
The flower was so pretty, she thought. So delicate and nice and sexy. She wanted to kiss it and fondle it and touch it with her fingers, and...
What? Strange thoughts. A flower was a flower, and not much more than that. Beautiful, yes, but...
Her body warmed up, feeling hot and heavy. Her bare breasts felt tight and when she looked down she saw her nipples pointed straight out in front of her, stiff and aroused. For no reason she could think of, she let out a moan. It felt so wonderful to do, so she moaned again. With her back against the wall, she scooted her rear forward and spread her legs. Feet on the floor, knees in the air, Alena reached one hand between her thighs and teased along her slit.
Why, she wondered, was she so wet? Was it the flower, the pollen? Her fingers came away from her folds, slick and slippery. She smeared her arousal across her taut stomach and up towards her breasts. Without realizing it, she tweaked one of her nipples between her fingers and moaned again.
The flower on the end of the vine dropped to the floor. Still beautiful and lovely, but no longer attached. Alena crawled to fetch it so she could look at it. So cute and pretty and she wanted to keep it for herself.
The vine separated at the tip as she approached. First once, making two new vines, then each of those split, too. They split once more, leaving eight slender vines dangling from the end of the initial one. The plant grew and stretched until each of the eight vines was multiple feet long, hovering and twitching in the air as if they had a mind of their own.
Alena finished crawling towards the flower on the floor. Leaning forward, picking it up with her mouth, she started to crawl back towards the safety of her corner by the wall. The vine had other ideas for her, though.
One of the new plant extensions wrapped around her ankle and dragged her towards the other seven. Not harshly, and actually quite gently, but it pulled her across the floor nonetheless. Alena fell onto her back. Forced to look up, she saw what was going on. Except, what exactly was going on? This was so strange and new to her that she didn't know what to think of it.
The flower in her mouth fell away, landing on the floor once more, but now with the vine taking up her thoughts, she forgot all about it.
Another viney tendril wrapped around her other leg by her thigh. The first tendril squirmed up her leg, too, and when both of them were in place by the core of her body, they pulled gently at her legs. Alena clenched her thighs shut, confused, but the vines insisted. Gentle tugs, light pulls, until Alena relented and allowed them to spread her legs.
Another vine moved in now. She stared at it, enrapt. It moved slow like a butterfly floating in a light breeze. Bobbing up and down, shifting closer to her, the third vine slipped towards her stomach and landed on her skin near the top of her pubis.
This rose, the vines, she thought they felt nice. They were soft to the touch, like ropes of silk, with fuzz on them like peaches. The vine on her stomach slithered towards her belly button and poked inside. It poked again, then again, kept poking. Ticklish, Alena laughed.
"What are you doing?" she asked it. "You can't get in my belly button."
The vine snapped up and looked at her. She watched it, thinking maybe it was confused. After a moment of critical thinking, the vine continued its travels up her stomach. It slinked and slithered, stretching and growing to allow it more exploration. Sliding further still, it slipped between her cleavage and onwards towards her neck. Not quite that far, though. When it reached the tops of her breasts, it curved around one of them, then more, until it wrapped around the entirety of her feminine mound.
Alena let out a lusty cry. Oh! She wanted this plant so badly. Was that wrong? She thought yes, maybe, except it didn't seem it at all. The plant, the rose, it seemed so erotic to her all of a sudden. Some illicit attraction, something she'd always known she desired, but never really understood it. But now? Oh, yes, she knew it. This plant could please her.
The vine wrapping around her breast squeezed, tightening her sensitive flesh. It stretched further again until the tip of the tendril poked up. It grabbed more, harder now, and the end of the vine slinked along the rest of the exposed skin of her chest. Alena squirmed against the sensation, but the vines holding her thighs kept her mostly in place.
Another vine wiggled forward, slow and steady. While the vine on her breast squeezed, it suddenly discovered her nipple as well, and the tip of the tendril grazed across her hardened nub. Shocked at the sudden sensation of pleasure shivering through her, Alena arched her back. The new vine used this distraction to slide beneath her and up past her shoulders, then on towards her nape. Alena moaned aloud, excited, and before she knew it the newest vine had wrapped itself around her neck.
The plant squeezed lightly, pressing against her throat. Alena froze, suddenly scared for her life, thinking she'd mistaken the plant's enthusiasm. It meant to kill her? Use her body as fertilizer?
A fifth vine snapped out, going straight for her free breast. It wrapped around her swelling bosom quickly, squeezing harder and tighter than the other. Then, not to be left out, it grew a longer tendril at the end and flicked her nipple hard. The other vine, the first to circle one of her breasts, continued to touch lightly against that nipple, no matter how hard and fast this new vine flicked.
This was all so strange and new to Alena and she wasn't sure how she
should feel about it. On the one hand, it was wonderful. The vines felt so soft, even the one around her neck, and she liked them touching her. Especially the ones by her breasts. She didn't know why they were doing this, but she thought she'd very much like it if they continued. And what of the other vines? Did they want to touch her, too?
The sixth did indeed, and it slipped around her waist. The vines around her thighs, waist, and neck worked in unison and hefted her up and off the ground. They were strong, far stronger than she would have believed. They lifted her easily, holding her in the air and spinning her this way and that, slowly. As she rotated, floating, she spotted the last two vines.
They looked different now. Still mostly the same, but thicker. They grew larger as she watched them, thickening to the width of her thumb after being closer to the size of her pinky finger, and then bigger still. One stopped once it grew to be about the size of her wrist, while the other halted at closer to half that width.
"Why are you growing?" she asked the vines. Neither answered, but she felt like asking them anyways.
The thicker vine moved towards the bottom of her foot, brushing against her sole. It tickled her and she laughed. Body jiggling from the laughter, squirming, still getting used to being held aloft, she wriggled in midair ineffectively. The vines held her tight and didn't let her fall, but with the strangeness of it she thought she might topple to the ground at any moment anyways.
The thick vine snaked up her calf and towards her thigh. It stopped when it met with the vine wrapped around the center of one thigh, but only for a second before it pressed onward. Up and up, closer to her stomach, and she thought maybe it would move towards the vine wrapped around her waist, but it didn't. She watched it, enthralled, curious as to what it would do.
It thickened more, but only at the tip. A strange substance oozed out of the top like thick nectar.
"Oh," Alena said, sad. "Are you hurt?"
If the vine understood, it did nothing to confirm her concern. Instead, the next thing she knew, it was pressing its tip against her pussy lips. The vine prodded and poked at her slit until it figured things out, and then, using its slick secretion and the wetness of her own arousal, it eased inside of her. Alena gasped and bucked her hips. Or she tried to move her hips, but the vine around her waist pulled her back.
The thick plant tendril delved deeper, exploring her darkest and most intimate depths. It bunched up, poking against her inner walls, then turned to push in further. Alena, shocked but delighted, clenched around the intrusion. It seemed that the more she squeezed against it, the thicker the vine became, too. Where at first it moved in a bumbling, confused fashion, it eventually grew so wide around that it only had one way to go; which was straight and further into her.
Once it tapped against her cervix, it had exhausted its options for advance, though.
The vine didn't like this. It retreated a few inches, then thrust forward again, meeting the same resistance. Alena squeaked, squeezing against the alarmed intruder.
"You can't go in any further!" she said. The plant disagreed.
It set into a rhythm, shifting back and winding up, then pushing in again. It couldn't move anywhere past her deepest depths, but it tried very hard. Soft, slick, with a hint of fuzz surrounding it, the vine pushed into her as far as it could go, over and over again.
It felt so strange and exciting. She didn't have experience with any cock besides Everett's, but she doubted any man would feel like this. The rose vine continued secreting viscous, sticky goop, lubricating her insides as it constantly struggled to push past her cervix. The slippery mess grew so abundant that it started leaking from her pussy and dripping down her floating body towards her ass, where it then dropped to the floor. She heard the sounds of it—drip, drip, drip like lusty rain—while the tendril assailed her body.
And the more she clenched, the thicker it grew! She tried to stop herself, not knowing how much bigger it would get, but the feeling of it inside her excited her too much. She unintentionally squeezed and the vine shivered and thickened in response until she took control of her arousal long enough to loosen her muscles. Not for too long, though, and the inevitable clench returned, and the vine reacted once more.
When she tried to say something and explain to the plant that, yes, it could do this, but it shouldn't expect whatever it was expecting, the vine around her throat surprised her. It clapsed lightly, cutting off her breath so she couldn't speak for a second. That vine stretched, too, much like the ones currently flicking—one softly and one harsh—against her nipples. It grew, thickened, then pressed against her nose. It tried to enter her nostril, but it was too large around for that. Like a tracking dog sniffing out a hunter's prey, the vine tapped along her face towards her lips, then her mouth.
She tried to clamp her lips shut, but the vine hugged her throat harder. Not too hard, but enough that it made it so difficult to breathe that she eventually opened her mouth and gasped for air. The creeping tendril loosened then, which was something of a victory, except as it did this its tip thrust between her lips and into her mouth. It slipped in, secreting goo like the vine crammed into her core, and slithered across her tongue towards the back of her throat.
Oh! Oh no! A thought came to her. This was alright, despite it being completely unlike what she ever expected to happen when she entered this room, but it couldn't go further. Further being, in her mind, what the last vine must be for. She clenched her butt tight, intending on refusing it entrance. No, no, not there, and not ever, and...
The vines around her body wiggled and rotated her while the one between her thighs thrust into her, the ones around her breasts squeezed and flicked at her nipples, and the one in her mouth slipped closer and closer to the back of her throat. She saw the last one, poised at her rear, but it looked different now. A flower blossomed at the end of it, similar to the one that had gotten her into this mess. Pure white, completely void of color like an empty artist's canvas, the flower loomed below her crotch. It collected the dripping secretions from the vine thrusting into her inner depths.
At the base of the flower, one of the petals picked up a tiny hint of color. Barely anything, but it looked like it had small spots of red. She watched it when she could, but the plant flipped her around this way and that, every which way, never letting her stay in one position for too long.
She wanted to see the flower, to contemplate it, but she couldn't think very well anymore. The vine between her legs slammed into her harder now, intent on trying to invade her womb, except it was growing far too thick. It stretched her whenever she squeezed against it, and by now she couldn't stop from clutching around its shaft. The arousal from the vines at her nipples and the vine shoving into her slit pushed pleasure into her body. She wanted to move and writhe and act like the sexual being she'd been when she was with Everett, but the plant didn't understand that.
She did manage to rock her hips a little, though. Not much, but just enough. The plant around her waist inched lower and lower with every movement she made, until she moved it to a spot that caused her to inhale sharply. Now, instead of it wrapping around her waist, she'd shimmied it low on her hips. The silken, fuzzy feel of it brushed against her clit, which only made her rock her center more and more.
When she inhaled, ready to let out a shriek of pleasure, the vine in her throat wriggled in further. It pressed at the back of her throat, then stopped. She could breathe past it, but it was terribly difficult to make any sounds now. When she tried, her tongue licked against the underside of the shaft. In response, the tip of the vine shivered, secreting more ooze.
She swallowed it, tasting it. Her core clutched against the vine inside her and her hips wriggled, pressing the vine around her waist harder against her clit. The taste of the goop in her mouth drove her even further towards madness, too. She didn't know what it was, but it tasted like watery honey. Honeysuckle? Something like that, she decided. In an effort to get more, deliriously wanting it so badly, she licked at the shaft of
the vine. It squirted more goo into her mouth and she swallowed it up.
The more she drank and tasted, the more aroused she became. It was so odd and awkward, but wonderful. Her body felt tingly and warm and amazing. The vine in her pussy kept stretching her, but the more syrup she drank from the one in her mouth, the more she wanted the lower one to dominate her. Further, yes, to gaping, she needed it to stretch her wide open and spill its goo into her. A continual squirt now, deep inside her body, as if it wanted to send forth its seed and pollinate her. She doubted this was possible, but it was a magical plant, so maybe? She knew, in the back of her mind, that this would probably be bad, but right at the moment she didn't care.
The plant squeezed her tight, pressed into her, shoved the thick vine into her cunt and let the slimmer one shiver and ooze into her mouth. Two more toyed with her breasts and nipples, while the ones by her thigh and neck and hips kept her shifting in perpetual slow circular motions. The flower one, whatever it was doing, must be somewhere, but Alena was too far gone to care. Her body clenched and squeezed and tensed, taut, against the ministrations of the plant, driving her to the pinnacle of pleasure. She orgasmed hard, fertilizing the fecund plant with her climactic juices.
This, apparently, was what it wanted, but she didn't give it enough, not at first. It shoved into her, stretching her more, re-invigorating her orgasm immediately after she'd finished and bringing her to another. Then another, more. She felt like one huge mass of orgasm, a person made completely out of pleasure, as the plant acted with constant, calculated rhythm, forcing her to experience sensations beyond her regular comprehension. She squirmed and bucked and writhed and licked and squeezed the rose vines, loving every moment of it.
Except, gods, could she keep this up? Could she keep going? Her body felt so tired, so physically exhausted, and she wanted to stop, but the vines wouldn't let her. They needed more from her, and her body gave it to them. How many times had she climaxed now? She lost count after four, and kept thinking four, except the last one had been four, hadn't it?
Hunted: An Erotic Retelling of Beauty and the Beast (An Adult Fairy Tale Novel) Page 9
