Lance Ferguson ran the estate agency. He was just past fifty, with a full beard and a bald head. He was one of the nicest men Beth had ever met, but she knew that every minute of the day he was nice was balanced out by the man he would become when he needed to make things happen. Early in her career, she had watched him destroy an opposing attorney in the courtroom. It was the first time she had seen a man who wasn’t on trial cry in court.
“Good morning, Beth.” Lance was waiting for her outside his office. He gestured to the door, and Beth walked in ahead of him. His office was smaller than hers—he was a man of economy, and didn’t like a lot of open space. His desk took up a third of the room, and he waved to one of the comfortable leather chairs across from his own. He closed the door behind her, which was never a good sign. He had a folder of his own on the desk, and Beth saw the name Radley scrawled in Sharpie across the front of it.
“How are you today?” Beth asked. She set her coffee on his desk, followed by the folder.
“Not good, to be honest.” After sliding behind his desk, he opened the file in front of him. “Let’s talk about last week.”
A yawning void opened inside of Beth’s stomach, threatening to swallow up the mask of calm she currently wore.
“I honestly don’t know what happened.” The words didn’t come easily, but they came without her voice breaking. Lance hated it when his employees cried, and she was determined to maintain her composure. The part she hated most was that she truly had no idea what had happened last week. She had returned to work on what she had thought was a Wednesday only to discover that it was Thursday and she had somehow lost an entire day of her life. She had tried to pass it off as some sort of stomach bug, but apparently she had been spotted driving recklessly all over town that day and even had a couple of speeding camera tickets to prove it.
Things had gotten even worse when Lance had discovered that she had failed to report the loss of estate assets. When questioned, Beth had a vague memory of the discovery, something about an unknown storage unit that had auctioned off a couple of boxes. She had no idea how something could have slipped her mind. She had explained to her boss as much as she could, realizing how crazy it sounded. Lance had sat quietly and listened, then sent her home with instructions to avoid any case work for a few days. She had made a quick call to Mike, letting him know she couldn’t stop by on Friday afternoon.
Strangely, Mike had sounded relieved.
“That’s what I’m worried about.” Lance broke the silence, staring at her over the top of his glasses. “It’s never a good sign when you can’t account for yourself or your actions.”
Beth nodded. She really had nothing to add.
“I thought about this long and hard over the weekend.” Lance closed the file, setting it on the desk. “You’ve been an exemplary employee. The Radley account is our largest by far, and I worry that Mr. Radley will be extremely displeased to discover that we have misplaced any part of his estate. Frankly, I also worry that we may have to reimburse him for the lost assets, and we both know that could cost the firm a ton of money, depending on what was auctioned off.”
“I can talk to him about it. He seems pretty happy with just the house. Or I can try to recover the assets. Or even both. Whatever you want me to do, Mr. Ferguson.” Beth’s leg was twitching, and she pretended to sip from her coffee. Anything to keep it together, to avoid letting him see the tears that threatened to shove their way forward.
“I’m not going to bullshit you. I was tempted to take on this account personally.”
Beth immediately understood the underlying threat in his words.
“But inspiration came to me in the form of a dream.”
“A dream?”
Lance nodded. “Looking at all the account prep, estate taxes, these Historical Preservation nuts who fought us the whole way, it occurred to me that this was probably too much for a single person to take on. You are amazing at your job, but I think that maybe one person isn’t amazing enough.”
“So what are you thinking?”
“I hired you an assistant.” Lance stood and opened the door to the office. “This young lady approached our firm over the weekend, wondering if we had room for an intern. I thought it would be a great idea to pair her with you.” He waved to somebody out in the lobby, standing aside as the soft click of heels approached. “What better way to see what all we do here than to pair her up with the woman who does everything? You are working too hard, Beth, and I want the two of you to work together from now on. Give her the little tasks, keep yourself from burning out. You have a bright future here, and I want to make sure you still have a shot at it.”
The intern walked in the room. The first thing that Beth noticed about her was that she was just a bit over five feet tall. Her black hair was swept back into a tight ponytail, and she wore a simple business suit with a pair of black glasses that made her look more like a sexy librarian than a law intern. She held a small leather briefcase in front of her, her red lips twisted into a playful smile.
“My name is Lily,” she said, holding out her hand for Beth to shake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
The sun was nearing its zenith, scattering shadows across the path in front of Mike. The last time he had walked along here, he had been held at wand-point, the witch behind him ready to vaporize him at a moment’s notice. He had led her on with the promise of something called a grimoire, a magical book that Sarah thought he had gotten ahold of. He had asked Naia about it, wondering if she had any knowledge of this magical book that Sarah had ranted about. The nymph had told him no, then had resumed giving him a hand job in the tub.
Sex. A month ago, the thought had been foreign to him. Even the idea of masturbating had wracked him with fear and guilt, but now sex was as normal as eating. Had he swung from one extreme to another? Was it now an addiction, having sex with the monsters in his house? He wondered what would happen if he decided to go without it, if he would fall apart as a human being, devolving into a lust-filled creature willing to fuck anything.
No. It was something else. He felt it inside his body, a peace that permeated his core. The idea of sex as a luxury, no different from wine or cigarettes, was wrong. Sex was a means of expressing affection. It was love, joy, trust—all those things. He didn’t need it to survive, didn’t crave it as a means of holding power. The sex he had with all these women was an expression of their bonds, something that brought them closer. Yet, because it was with so many different people, it was frowned upon, anathema to a functional society. Somewhere along the way, mankind had labeled sex as dirty, something to only be enjoyed a certain way with certain people.
Mankind was wrong. Mike firmly believed that. If only other people could feel what he did, experience what he had, maybe they, too, could find a similar peace.
Feeling rather proud of his profound thoughts, he pushed his way through the heavy leaves around him, stepping into the open clearing that housed the Mandragora. In the middle of the clearing, the main plant was sunk into a recess in the ground, a large bloom atop its thick stem. Up above, large pods swung gently in the breeze, and Mike gave them a wide berth. Each pod was filled with a substance that, when inhaled, acted as a nuclear aphrodisiac. He and Sarah had fucked each other until physically exhausted, and then the Mandragora had consumed her.
“Where is the knife?” Mike asked, not expecting the Mandragora to answer him. The vines coiled around the clearing with anticipation, making Mike think of an excited dog whose master had just come home. Nearing the main body of the plant, he circled the area, wondering where the dagger could have gotten to.
Wandering in circles, he was surprised to see the vines waving to him from one corner of the clearing as if trying to get his attention. Walking toward them, he saw the hilt of the dagger sticking up from a flat, tire-shaped stone in the dirt.
“Oh! Thank you!” He gave the vine nearest him a gent
le scratch, and the whole clearing shuddered. Crouching to get closer to the dagger, he felt his head and shoulders covered in the gentle pollen of the Mandragora. Looking up in alarm, he realized that the knife was firmly beneath one of the pods.
“Fuck!” He fell backward, trying to avoid any more of the glittery pollen, but it was too late. He was already sporting a massive hard-on, his pants straining to contain it. Even worse, he had nothing to do with it, and he could already feel his upper mind shutting down. Gone were thoughts of the house, the knife, or anything else in between. He needed something to fuck, and he needed it now.
Behind him, the Mandragora rustled again, and the whole clearing shifted. He turned to face the sound, his cock already in his hand as he stroked himself rapidly. The bud atop the Mandragora was glowing a fluorescent blue color, casting an eerie light across the clearing. Giant petals opened, revealing that the inner petals were, in fact, pink in color. The flower itself now looked more like a comfortable bed, and the middle of the flower shifted, the pistil unraveling itself to stand before him. Long blonde hair cascaded down the red-and-green skin of the woman inside, her body composed of leaves and petals. She beckoned to him from the middle of the flower bed, her features familiar and alien at the same time.
Right now, Mike didn’t give two fucks. He was already scrambling in the dirt, trying to get to his feet while squeezing his dick in one hand.
Her eyes were dark and mysterious, her whole body an amalgamation of different plants. Her skin had minor flaws that reminded him of the wrinkles on 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 choir of angels, the clearing resonating with her song. Her whole body glowed like a giant firefly, bright enough to see even in daylight. Vines coiled around the base of his penis, holding him in place, keeping every precious drop of his semen inside her.
Spent, Mike relaxed, the sex pollen wearing off temporarily. He knew he only had a few moments of clarity and wondered what would happen if he ran. Those thoughts were lost when the Mandragora leaned forward, his moist cock slipping free of her. The pitcher plant pussy sealed itself shut, pulling itself up into the plant’s body only to be replaced by another.
“Oh God,” he muttered, the pollen capturing him once more. His dick was suddenly rock-hard again, his balls swollen with cum once more. He pulled her back against him this time, fucking her while they sat up. He grabbed her breasts from behind, marveling at how full and soft they felt. While she bounced on his cock, his thumb slid beneath the chain of the necklace, causing it to twist and catch on his hand. She rode him this way for several more minutes, massaging his balls and pressing on his prostate through his skin. When he came this time, he squeezed her breasts as hard as he could, screaming unintelligibly at the sky, the sensati
on of several ounces of cum leaving his body too much to bear. His hands slid away from her breasts, the chain breaking in his fingers. He fell over backward, staring in wonder at the perfect globes of her ass. The pollen clearing away, he immediately recognized the curvature of her body.
“Sarah,” he whispered, suddenly aware of the necklace in his hands. He stuffed it away in the pocket of his jeans, the sudden moment of clarity lost again when the Mandragora lifted her ass away from him, swaying from side to side, her pussy closing itself away and a new one blossoming in its place.
She rode him again, his mind lost in the flood of hormones and magic that had taken over his body. Every time he came, he thought that the ordeal was finally over, but the Mandragora kept going. It wasn’t the fact that he had been pollinated that bothered him or even the number of times they would fuck that scared him.
It was what would happen to him once they were finished. Would she fuck him until he died? Eat him? Would he become like Sarah, a vessel for the next hapless traveler?
No, it had to be something more. Something much bigger was going on here, but Mike could only think in brief increments, his balls swelling to an inordinate size despite blasting torrent after torrent of cum into the plant.
The sun crept across the sky, and a storm blew through. Lying on his back, he stared in wonderment at the perfect body above him as it arched its back one final time, its song reverberating in his very soul. The plant’s belly was swollen now with the fruit of his efforts, looking easily seven months pregnant. He wondered if the wind would carry away his shriveled-up body and how it was even possible to come as much as he had.
The Mandragora’s face was a picture of serenity, her dark eyes closed. Her skin darkened to the color of bark, and she stood, turning to face the sun. The clearing went absolutely still, and the Mandragora stepped off the giant flower bed they had used. The petals wilted, tiny glowing lights leaving their surfaces to gather around the living plant. She looked back one more time at Mike, her green face now covered in bark.
Radley's Labyrinth for Horny Monsters Page 7