a sweet potato or an unwashed carrot. Her breasts lacked nipples, instead coming to a pair of rounded points like bottoms of turnips. She ran her hands along the sides of her body, slender fingers finding and toying with the soft blonde curls below her hips. He nearly knocked her over, grabbing at her out of desperation. She gazed into his eyes, her hands curling around the shaft of his dick, pumping up and down.

Mike sighed, running his fingers across her flesh. She felt soft, like a regular woman, and he couldn’t help but notice the pretty blue stone necklace around her neck. It prompted a memory that was quickly lost in the clouds of lust fogging his mind. The hands stroking his shaft were suddenly slick. Looking down, he saw that several small tendrils had sprouted from her fingers, tendrils that left behind a tingling, slimy trail that enhanced the sensation of her hand job. Several larger tendrils from her wrists had created loops that were already wrapping themselves tightly around his balls, squeezing him in ways that created immediate bursts of pleasure that fired up through his spine, reducing the higher functions of his brain to mush.

“Shit,” he muttered.

She now stroked him with a level of ferocity that was uncanny, her methodical hands already causing a massive orgasm to build inside of him. Kneeling, she opened her mouth, a cavern of several miniature tongues, and fastened herself to the head of his cock. She removed her hands and slid her face forward, pulling him all the way in until her lips met the bottom of his shaft. She bobbed experimentally a few times, then opened her mouth even wider to suck in his scrotum as well.

What had started as an ordinary blow job transformed into something else. Hundreds of tiny tongues danced along the surface of his cock, and the Mandragora sucked on him greedily, the pressure almost too much to bear. He fell on his back, pinned in place by not only the Mandragora’s hands but some of the larger vines in the area that strapped him down to the bed. The plant wanted him restrained for some reason, and his fear was that the bud would eventually close around him, the Mandragora consuming him once and for all.

Currently, in that moment, he was too horny to care, as long as it kept sucking.

“Ah, fuck yeah!” he hollered, closing his eyes. The Mandragora had latched onto his penis, her head stationary while the inside of her mouth moved independently of her. He felt like he was plugged in to the ultimate blow job machine. She massaged his legs, squeezing up and down his thighs as if she was trying to make certain that every drop of cum in his body was milked free. He tried to push himself even deeper into her mouth, but it was no longer physically possible.

The sensation of warmth on his dick changed. The tendrils were no longer focused on just the outside of his shaft. Tiny little tendrils now explored the opening of his cock, teasing around the edge of his urethra. It was like heat and electricity at the same time, his cock growing even larger inside her mouth. He was nearly in tears, that first orgasm ready to burst free, but something kept it from releasing. Those tiny tendrils had crawled up into his cock, sliding around inside of him, tickling his shaft from the inside. His penis spasmed, the cum trapped inside it, the Mandragora up to something. He felt it then, a sudden rush of warmth up into his body, and the small tendrils gently slid free.

She pulled her mouth off him, leaving behind a gooey green trail of saliva. She turned around, bending over to reveal a gorgeous purple pussy. The lips of her sex looked exactly like the thick ring of the carnivorous pitcher plant.

He knew now what kind of meal this plant wanted.

The vines released him, and he sat up. His cock was the largest he had ever seen it. The Mandragora had acted as a giant penis pump, but that wasn’t all. His balls were swollen, each one nearly the size of a fist. The skin of his scrotum was stretched tight and ached from within, the sensation of blue balls suddenly too much to ignore. As he crawled toward the Mandragora, his penis leaked a steady stream of precum. In the back of his mind, it occurred to him that the plant must have injected him with something to push his balls into overdrive.

Every fiber of his being demanded exploration of the Mandragora. He wanted to know how she tasted, what she liked, if he could make a plant come. However, his brain was no longer in charge. He was now ruled by the impossibly swollen member between his legs, an entity of its own, and it only had one desire.

The Mandragora arched her back. He planted his hands on her hips, lifting himself up to just the right height. He sank his dick into her, discovering that, just like a pitcher plant, she had a small pool of liquid at the bottom that greeted him. They were instantly connected, the liquid flowing up into his body, his entire being consumed with one thought only: FUCK.

He slammed himself into the Mandragora, trying to push himself deeper with every thrust. Her whole body bent, flexing beneath his weight like the branches of a tree, and she let out tiny moans of her own, but he couldn’t tell if they were from pleasure or the power of his thrusts. His veins were turning green, whatever concoction the Mandragora had slipped him taking full effect now. He squeezed her ass, the flesh parting like blades of grass to allow him a better grip as the first orgasm struck, his very soul itself coiling up like a spring only to release a flood of cum into the Mandragora.

The Mandragora let out a cry that sounded like a

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