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Monstrous Breeding

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by Waffle’s

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The otter-bear pedalled smoothly, huffing a little as he slowed his pace, calves aching from the force of pushing the pedals of his bike while it was in a higher gear. It helped him get over the rougher ground a little easier in the forest, though he changed gear as needed. Still, Waffle liked getting out and about when he could, even if the sun-dappled day had turned a little darker and gloomier than he personally liked. It was more comfortable for him when it was cooler, as was the case for many anthros with thicker fur.

Only wearing a loose T-shirt and a pair of comfortable shorts, Waffle was perfectly dressed for cycling as he relaxed and breathed in the environment. The pine forest left a smattering of brown, dried needles on the old path he traversed, though Waffle was not honestly sure how far he’d come. Surely there would be a sign soon enough pointing him back to the main road and route, so he could find his way back to the car park, however.

“Oof…”

Waffle slowed again, his legs aching, but another need in his body called to him. After all, he was not to be blamed for a full bladder when he had been out for a few hours already and Waffle always made sure to remain hydrated with a water bottle in the holder on his bike.

Slowing to a halt beside a deciduous tree that seemed to have been overrun with vines, he hopped off and leaned his bike against it in one smooth motion. The brown tones in the otter-bear anthro’s fur were even in the lower light and he blinked up through the leaves. Even the canopy above him seemed thicker with leaves than it had only a short time ago, as if the trees were growing closer together. But Waffle didn’t really know all that much about trees and didn’t comment on it, even in his own head.

“Okay, gotta be quick…”

Despite not minding stopping for a rest, something had the back of Waffle’s neck prickling and the otter-bear didn’t want to linger too long. The forest closed in on him, making even the trail he’d travelled seem darker and more forlorn, like the undergrowth was sweeping it away from his sight. It didn’t feel at all like the kind of place where anyone was supposed to stay for very long.

Little did Waffle know just how accurate his gut feeling was in that matter. Pulling down his shorts, he grunted and lamented mildly that it was more awkward for him to urinate than his partner back home, for he didn’t have a shaft like Flint. It was always more exposing for him to urinate away from home like that, his cunny revealed while he pulled his shorts and boxers to the side so nothing was caught in the stream.

The vines above him rustled and Waffle half glanced up, expecting to see a bird or a squirrel. But the otter-bear couldn’t spot anything at all, shrugging off the rustle as he finished up and pulled his shorts back up again, having used a tissue from his pocket to clean off. It was more comfortable for him that way, but his slow pace was his undoing.

As the otter-bear stepped away from the tree, the plant monster lunged. All Waffle knew was a garbled roar and a slam of something hard forcing its way through the undergrowth, the vines lacing the tree he had stopped at suddenly twisting and writhing, lancing out with brutally determined intent.

Waffle would have screamed, but the vines lashed around him as the otter-bear thrashed and fought, getting an arm free as his legs were wrenched back. Thrown off his feet, the otter-bear tried to snarl, but another vine wound around his muzzle, even if he heaved and twisted his head and neck to throw it off.

“Unff – what the hell?”

Although Waffle’s heart hammered, fury rolled through him as he was bodily heaved off his hind paws, dangling near upside-down. They twisted and threw their torso backwards, trying to catch the plant-creature off-guard, but it folded the petals of a large, purple flower sensually over his head. The smooth caress of the light petals folded around his face, tickling his cheeks, and it was a strange enough sensation for the otter-bear to hesitate for a second, his mind grappling with the shock of being captured. As much as his body knew it had to fight to get free, his mind frozen, blank and trembling in indecision.

Yet the plant exuded something sweet and powdery over his face, making the otter-bear blink slowly, his lower jaw falling slack. For a moment, Waffle did not even remember what he was doing there, why he was in the forest at all. The otter-bear slowly turned his head from left to right as the flower retreated and he was finally able to take in the twisting, squirming mass of tentacle-like vines slowly rising to fill his vision, surrounding the otter-bear on all sides. The only view of the outside world the otter-bear might have been able to glimpse would have been up through the boughs of the tree, though the vines didn’t care if he thought he could gain freedom.

For the otter-bear, it would never be needed every again, not as the plant monster secreted a toxin, soaking into Waffle’s skin through his fur to render his mind soft and amenable. Even though the vines remained tight around his body, keeping him nicely restrained, Waffle fell more compliant, no longer fighting as the monster dragged him back into the furious mass of green vines.

“Ahhhh…”

He groaned lightly as the vines crawled over his body, not a limb on his body free. It was a nice feeling, but something pulled in the back of his mind, like a memory he couldn’t quite remember. But it could not have been all that important, no, not if he felt so good and light, even pushing into the touch of the vines a little.

They slid into his clothes, one down the neck of his T-shirt while another crawled into his shorts, inching along his thigh with short, twitching motions. The otter-bear was not to know just how excited the plant was to find a new victim, for no one had gone down that long, lonely path in quite some time.

The vines teased over Waffle’s body and deeper into his shorts, pulling away from his body to tear them almost lovingly from his form. It didn’t need to be rough or sharp when their quarry was already held tightly. The otter-bear was the perfect vessel into which to plant its eggs, after all.

He was barely aware of his shirt being ripped from his body and his sex exposed, his body tilted so that his hips were higher than his head. Blood rushed to his head and the otter-bear groaned as the curve of a pale green vine teased and brushed up against his sex, gently pressing the folds apart and easing through the slick.

“Ah… Ohhhh…”

Waffle moaned as the vine teased against him, rubbing back and forth, gently brushing over his clit. The plant caressed him with the touch of a lover – yet they were a lover indeed with an ulterior motive in mind, for the vine-plant was not altruistic in the slightest, oh no. Not as two vines pressed urgently up against his cunny and his tail hole, using their own secretions to lubricate their way as they pushed inside him.

The otter-bear grunted thickly, clenching his jaw and twisting his head to the side. However, as he was not fighting the plant, the vine-monster left him alone. All it needed was a complacent host for its eggs and it gave a pleased little shudder that rippled down each and every one of its vines as it made good use of him.

Groaning, Waffle tried to buck and push on to the tentacle-like vines, all of them moving with a mind of their own. He needed them deeper as it eased into his sex and his passage clenched around, responding to the intrusion that he likely would not have consented to if he’d been in his right mind. Yet the otter-bear moaned open-mouthed, drooling slightly with a sheen of saliva marking the corner of his lips, delirious in pleasure as it ached lightly through him.

“Mmm… Mmmmooorrrreee…”

Waffle slurred, working harder than he would normally have done to just get those words out of his mouth, elongated and dragged-out beyond what they should have been. He huffed, rolling his hips lightly against the intruding vine in his cunny, squeezing around it as his body grew slick in response. Yet the vines were not content with that and rubbed back and forth across the tight bud of his anal ring, though the otter-bear wasn’t trying to keep the plant out at all.

The vines tightened and pinched around his thighs and midsection, wound around him as a living creature would, as a smaller vine that swiftly thickened pushed its way insistently into his tail hole. With his thicker, more otter-like tail flicking back and forth, he tried to lift it, though his movements felt dull and sluggish, like he lacked even the energy to pick it up in the slightest. Not that it mattered as he was tipped back with his head slanted down, hips raised for the vine-riddled plant to use him.

With both his holes plugged, Waffle moaned, chest heaving and shuddering with every breath the otter-bear snatched into his lungs. Yet he couldn’t do anything about his predicament, twisting lightly and groaning as they pumped up deeply into him.

Yet he was not aware of the vine in his sex pushing all the way in, tickling up against the entrance to his cervix. The pressure didn’t come with any pain or strain, but the strange, pushing sensation deep within his body could not be ignored fully either as he grunted, a ripple running through his entire body. Dimly, the otter-bear was aware of his right paw clenching into a fist, but it released again a moment later. That manner of tension didn’t belong there either.

He relaxed as the plant secreted a toxin into his womb, a small section of vine easing gently into his womb to do so. It squirmed through his entrance and the otter-bear unwittingly bucked his hips even as the plant held him in place, surrounding by the writhing tentacles. For Waffle, it was as if the rest of the world didn’t exist, his body tightening around the vines as his ovaries reacted.

For the plant had to take his eggs to lay its own – in a manner of speaking, that was. Warmth spread through the otter-bear’s lower half, presumably so he didn’t feel the pinch of the eggs being released, but that was by the by. It was not as if Waffle could get away, after all. He exhaled hotly, trying to get more stimulation as desire rose inside him, pushing and urging Waffle on to be taken, to be bred. That was, at least, how his mind played it out, the only way he could understand it in that case.

His eggs filtered down his tubes to his womb, drawn there by the plant. They thought there was sperm there, ready to fertilise them, but the plant had its own motives. The plant would have to change them first, however, for they would not yet be suitable for it to plant its own seed to fertilise them.

All Waffle knew was the warm pull in his lower abdomen, his body aching pleasantly as he rocked his hips, trying to grind back on the vines. Yet the plant merely held him in place as he squeezed around them, the vine in his tail hole thickening up. The otter-bear whimpered and the plant almost tenderly fed a vine into his mouth, working it back and forth as Waffle was at least permitted to drool lustfully around it.

“Mmmmph…”

There was no better place to be, at least in his mind, even as the plant secreted another toxin, altering them at a cellular level. Normal otter-bear eggs, even if Waffle was a hybrid, would simply not do and the plant had taken many victims before that had their eggs mutated in a similar way.

Waffle knew nothing, not as his eggs waited in his womb, though they weren’t really the otter-bear’s eggs anymore, no. They were those of the plant, a monstrous cellular pattern folding into them where they would hold only a little of Waffle’s genetics. The plant, after all, just wanted to reproduce – and now Waffle was ripe for breeding.

With the eggs waiting, the plant doubled down its efforts on the otter-bear, thrusting furiously back and forth, grinding one vine deep into Waffle’s maw. Even though his teeth caught at the skin of the vine, they did not break the surface where it was toughened-up; clearly, the tenacious plant had ways to take its prey with tact and delicacy.

With Waffle’s hips elevated too, there would be less of a chance for any seed to escape the otter-bear before the eggs were fertilised, though the process, with the plant-monster, would be swift. Waffle grunted and ardently pressed his tongue against the underside of the vine in his maw, caressing it with all the sense he had in him. He blinked a bit, trying to clear the haze from his eyes, but there was nothing there that stopped him, hips juddering up wantonly to each thrust he could take.

The vines pressed almost against one another inside him, with only a thin barrier of flesh stopping them from connecting within his pussy and tail hole. It all lent itself to a delicious sense of tightness, his body aching and sex squeezing desperately, the vine coated with his arousal. That his body was responding to the attention of the vines was impossible to deny, yet lust flooded his mind too as the toxin worked itself deeper inside him, changing how he even related to his sudden “kidnapping.”

Waffle didn’t care if the plant had any intention of releasing him, the slide and push of those insistent vines all he longed for. With whimpering moans and grunts around the vine stuffing his mouth, tongue pushing out over his lower lip, the otter-bear quivered as his body was forced closer and closer to climax. More and more vines crawled over his body, adding an extra touch of stimulation, his fur ruffled in the wrong direction where they stroked over him. The vines demandingly pulled his thighs further apart still, another hoisting his tail up, but Waffle no longer had any desire at all to stop what was happening. It had all come to pass so quickly that he simply had not had a chance to do anything before the monstrous plant had its way with him.

He grunted, his body tightening again around the vine in his sex, wanting it all. Heat poured through him and he tried to howl around the vine, but any cries he made came out muted. The otter-bear would have thrashed if he had been free to do so, but it didn’t matter. Not as that lust and desire coiled increasingly tightly inside him, strung up to its breaking point.

Just as the bear’s head jerked back in orgasm, muscles contracting where he could not move, the plant exploded inside him. Even the vine in his ass funnelled swollen spurts of seed into him, seeding all his holes at once as it sought to fertilise his eggs. Heat danced through the otter-bear as he groaned and drooled, eyes half-closed, though they would only have opened again to a twisting mass of green vines if they had.

His toes curled and flexed, tail twitching where it was hoisted up, but the otter-bear would not have wanted to be free. Not as waves of ecstasy poured through him and the heat of the plant seeding him poured into his sex, forcing its way up into his womb to meet those eggs. The seed in his ass and pouring down his throat, the vine shoved all the way to the back of his mouth and numbing his gag reflex easily, was wasted, in a sense, but it was all in the manner of the plant taking its prey and ensuring they were perfectly primed to be bred. They didn’t know, after all, when they would next have a subject to fill with their essence.

The process of fertilisation inside the otter-bear was far from what would have been normal for Waffle as he twisted and the vines, slowly, lowered him closer to the forest floor. Laying his head and back on the soft grass and moss, they kept his hips elevated and legs spread, vines pumping like twin pistons in and out of his ass and sex.

Waffle moaned, drooling around the vine, trying to sweep his tongue around it and suck it deeper into his mouth, even down his throat. Oh, he had no care at all for himself or his own desire, simply wanting the plant to breed him, to take him, to do anything it wanted with him. His body ached and he tried to buck his hips; that time, the plant allowed it as it would aid fertilisation.

The eggs needed a little time to grow inside the otter-bear, but the plant could have its fun until then. Laying would be easier for its vessel if Waffle was brought to another orgasm, but the plant had no desire to make any further connection with the otter-bear than that. He moaned and put an arch into his lower back that should have been tricky for him – but he’d been in all manner of positions that required a little more flexibility before. Waffle would have done it all anyway, regardless of the place, just to get another throbbing hum of pleasure rolling through him.

He grunted, trying to shake his head back and forth, but a vine tangled around his neck to hold him in place. Restriction clawed at him and Waffle moaned, not caring. As long as those vines still ground into him, using more secretions still to lubricate their way, a lewd, wet sound rising from where they pounded into his body. His own arousal mixed with it, thickly drooling out from his cunny, but anything that dripped from his tail hole was either the plant’s seed or the plant’s own lubrication.

Waffle panted heavily, his hips forced up higher still while his upper back remained on the ground, prey to the plant’s whims. He was nothing more than a vessel to be taken and bred, heat pooling at his core. The vine in his pussy and tail hole thickened again, pumping another load of seed into him, and he jerked reflexively, unable to do anything than react.

But orgasm rose again, tightening inside him, that heat wrapping around his core until there was simply nowhere else for it to go. Waffle grunted, yet he couldn’t clench his jaw around the vine filling his mouth, something slick on its surface so he kept lapping at it, wanting to get more with every passing second.

Nothing would hold back orgasm as the thicker, fatter vines ploughed his holes full and the one in his mouth slid into his throat, forcing him to swallow the oddly sweet load. The otter-bear’s eyes closed and he huffed hotly, rocking his hips forward as ecstasy took him, but he was not fully aware of what was going on. All he knew was roll after roll of pleasure taking him, feeling like it was heating his blood, desire flowing through him. His sex gripped that vine with determined need, but he needed more, so much more.

Inside Waffle, the fertilised eggs grew, mutating further, swelling with rapid growth and filling his womb. It bulged out his womb, showing through the front of his lower abdomen, a slosh of seed giving them something of a buffer. However, the number of eggs grew inside him, the lumpy outlines of every egg showing through his stomach.

“Oof… Mmmph…”

He growled around the vine, but the plant-monster retreated slowly, setting him down on the ground. On his back, Waffle whined and moaned after the retreating vines, finally able to see up to the canopy of leaves above him. The mess of vines was not his to deal with and the otter-bear’s head swam not lucidly, feeling like he was drifting and floating, even though Waffle was laying, quite securely, on the mossy ground.

“Oooohhhh…”

Waffle moaned, his mind grappling with what had happened, yet the toxin was still in his system, easing his muscles even as he slowly lumbered over on to all fours, forcing his body to get into position. For something deeper told him change was coming, that the bulges in his stomach had to come out, one way or the other.

He braced on the ground, his paws splayed on a rise of moss, while he squatted on his hind paws. Waffle blinked. What was he doing there? And why did he feel so full and empty at the same time?

The otter-bear had to lay the eggs and he bore down as his body bid him to squeeze, to push and ease every egg from his body. He moaned and sweated mildly, rolling his hips with juddering pushes, tail lifted even though a part of him was still searching for the plant-monster somewhere nearby. Yet the vines had retreated up into the trees and he had never seen the “body” of the monster itself, even if that didn’t matter.

The first egg worked its way from him slowly, the plant’s secretions at least allowing his cervix to stretch around it without pain. Yet the strain ached deeply through his entire body as Waffle bore down heavily, a moan slipping from his lips. But his body wouldn’t accept anything less as he pushed out the egg, even the slow traversing of it stretching his passage sending a ricochet of sharp pleasure through him.

“Ohhhh, yesss…”

Waffle barely even knew what he was saying, but he didn’t have to, not as his body heated and he let his hips lower to the forest floor – as close as he could get. The egg plopped out, but another was already swiftly following it, relieving him of the tightness and pressure in his abdomen, the strain of being so bloated with eggs that he had to release them. It was what his body was made for, after all, even if an otter-bear could not have expected to be bred quite like that.

Yet Waffle grunted and held out through it all admirably, licking his dry lips and letting his cries echo through the suddenly deserted forest. There was not even a chirp of birdsong in the air as he pushed out egg after egg, each out slurping lewdly and wetly from his sex, straining his entrance wide around them. His body strained and ached, yet the rising passion allowed him to ease through more gently, tail lowering and swinging gently back and forth as the pile of eggs under him grew.

As a host, the otter-bear had done well… Waffle, however, would never be sure what had happened there that day, not as the vines slid out and between his legs, scooping the eggs away in a pile. He moaned and let the last one work its way down, round and squeezing its tight passage down and out of his sex. The final, wet plop landed in the damp moss, but the plant-monster was ready for it. It swept that final egg away with a flick of a vine, scooping them back into the darkness where it could ensure they’d be incubated properly.

If the otter-bear returned, he’d make a fine host for a second round… But that all depended on how amenable his host was.

As Waffle collapsed in bliss on the forest floor, gasping for breath, his lips parted in an open-mouthed smile.

Somehow, the plant-monster had found exactly the right host it needed.