FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Noel wiped the sweat out of his eyes, trying to consult the extensive quest notes. Somewhere in the thick ream of documents, there was a map. Admittedly, in jungle this dense it wasn't going to be much help, but maybe he'd be able to find a tree and climb it to get his bearings later.

One of his eyes stung, as hot, salty sweat dripped into it again. Ugh. The heat wasn't a big deal for a Braixen such as himself, but the unbelievable humidity felt like it had crept into his bones. If it got any wetter in the air, his stick was going to start wilting.

This whole quest was turning out to be a pain in the ass.

It had started innocently enough. Someone had put up a joke posting for a frankly ridiculous amount of money, specifying a time, a place, and little else. It was some wealthy estate a ways out of the main city, and Noel had only bothered to turn up because he figured some moron was gullible enough to fall for the clearly fake posting, and he wouldn't mind being there to see it.

That, and... He hadn't had much else to do that night.

So, he had been quite surprised when a Kadabra had been waiting impatiently for him, out the front of the manor.

"Finally! I was beginning to think adventurers and their legendary lust for gold was a fabrication! Follow me please, we've much to discuss before I send you on your way."

"Um. What?"

The Kedabra looked back over his shoulder at Noel, peering over his glasses.

"I posted it in the right spot, yes? If one wishes to contract the services of an adventurer, they must post a listing requesting an undertaking of inconvenience and peril under the expectation of due financial compensation upon successful completion. Am I incorrect?"

Noel tilted his head, blinking a few times. "....What?!"

The Kadabra rolled his eyes. "The money! Do you want the money or not?"

"Oh!" Noel had been prepared for angry adventurers, irritated at having been hoodwinked. He hadn't at all expected the posting to be real, or that the 'mon who posted it would turn out to be some kind of irritated, living dictionary. Still, the listing had been for a frankly absurd amount of money. It couldn't hurt to hear him out, at least.

Noel shook the parchment, trying to get it to stand up in the jungle's humidity so he could read it. It drooped back down in between his paws.

Whatever.

The crazy Kadabra had wanted some stupid plant specimen from most of the way around the known world. He'd gone on at length about how best to find it, how to look after a seed in transit, and probably a whole bunch of other stuff Noel hadn't paid much attention to. He'd also provided the documents Noel was using, filled with maps and information about stops along the way and the Pokemon who inhabited them. His long winded approach was a painfully dry read, but it was also remarkably comprehensive, and it had proven invaluable in traveling across the sea and the continent beyond, provided he skipped to the relevant section. Noel hadn't ever been overseas before, and he'd quite enjoyed the travel for its own sake, particularly as the Kadabra had provided a... Generous purse to cover travel expenses.

Noel hadn't exactly lived frugally before, as being an adventurer paid well enough normally, but he had gotten alarmingly used to sleeping in the best bed at every inn on this whackjob's expense. It would be hard to go back to living paw-to-mouth after this.

Assuming he could ever go back. That meant finding this one section of jungle marked 'ideal conditions' and finding one of these dang plants, and both of those were looking increasingly unlikely as the day wore on. Was he even holding this map up the right way?

Let's see. Village, north east part of this jungle, near the edge. Avoid, will interfere with harvesting seed. Pages and pages of notes on the village, their customs, blah blah blah. The term 'Idiot Harvest Feast' had turned up a few times as Noel had skimmed it, but if he was going to avoid the village, why bother to read about its customs?

He'd attempted to skirt around the village to the west, heading south from the main highway, following the curvature of the valley. The 'ideal' spot on his map was a little southwest of the center of the forest, so he should have come across it by now if he had his bearing right. Assuming the map was up to date. Which, considering he was so far from home, might be a bigger problem than he had expected. It would figure, that he would spend so many weeks hitching rides on carts to get here and be using an out of date map, really. Typical.

Noel shrugged off his backpack, putting it down against the one of the weird fern things and leaning against the large, surprisingly sturdy leaf. Whatever it was, it was taller than him, and leathery and tough, if a little waxy, and strong enough that he could lean his weight against it as he sat down in what small amount of shade it provided. The ground around it was clear of leaf litter, and the soil was loose and soft. He fished the water canteen out of his pack and knocked another mouthful of water back, grateful that it was still cool despite the heat. Considering how late in the day it was rapidly becoming, it was downright upsetting that it was still so humid. He wondered if maybe the 'idiot feast' was about celebrating whoever was stupid enough to live in an armpit like this.

Noel frowned at himself. He was too grumpy. It was the humidity, and his sore back from carrying the pack, not to mention his sore hindpaws. He stretched them out and laid back, resting more of his weight on the plant as he picked up the ream of papers again. Getting his stick stuck up his nose would help nothing. Maybe there was a description of the plant in here somewhere, he might have walked past it without noticing.

It felt a little irresponsible to have gotten this far without bothering to look up what the plant itself looked like, but, well... The Kadabra was very long winded. Besides, he had hoped that he would know it when he saw it.

Nothing for it but to check the notes while there was still daylight. He wanted to leave plenty of time to walk back out, and maybe make it back to a town in time for dinner.

"The local tribe is made up of a mixture of species and has a strongly matriarchal structure, predicated on the unique physiology of several native species, notably-"

Nah. Noel flipped to a few pages ahead.

"-is a tradition designed to prevent the unnecessary spread of new plants by harvesting the fruit and occupant ahead of proper germination. Fruit can be in excess of 100 kilograms and easily feeds the entire tribe. The harvest is usually conducted by several of the females in the tribe, so as to avoid unnecessary risk of creating more fruit-"

Flip flip flip. Metric measurements? Whatever. Get to the point.

"The plant in question is most active at dusk and dawn, but during daylight hours it emits a scent that compels males to rest. A mature adult specimen that has properly taken root will visible by the following distinct traits, (see fig. h)-"

Ah, there we go. Noel yawned, shaking himself as he leafed through to the supplemental on the back. Figure H, figure H...

Hmm. It was a sketch. Not a bad one, but black and white wasn't the most helpful thing in this situation. It looked like a pitcher plant, kinda, with a... Plant... Thingie... Whatever it was called, growing out of the top of the rounded, jug like leaf, and it had seeds or fruit on it? That must be what he was looking for. Apparently, the majority of the pitcher part was underground, and it had some kind of roots that grew up to the surface and partially exposed themselves. They also were down in the part that was underground. Noel wondered why it needed an underground bit. Maybe it was to collect water?

Well, if it was, it was going to a lot of unnecessary extra effort. It was so wet, he could wave his canteen around in the air to fill it back up if he wanted to.

Noel yawned again, leafing back to his previous spot in the notes. Sheesh, all this walking had really tired him out. He tried to find his place back in the main text again. Maybe it would mention colours, or something.

"-unique in the non-sentient flora kingdom in that it exclusively derives its nourishment from these complex animal proteins in its initial gestation and adolescent periods. While paltry in comparison to the usual nutritional requirements for such growth and metamorphosis, it still presents a unique and unusual challenge for the adolescent plant to sustain its food source, which is believed to have caused the plant to adapt into this complex symbiotic cycle. The host is subjected to a variety of-"

Hang on. Host? Something in Noel's brain niggled at him. He pawed back through the pages a little, searching for the passage he'd read recently.

"-a tradition designed to prevent the unnecessary spread of new plants by harvesting the fruit and occupant ahead of proper germination."

Occupant? Host? Noel leaned forward, his brows furrowed. It was a shame, he'd gotten pretty comfortable in the roots, but this demanded his full attention. He ran a paw-pad along the paper, looking for more. The hell kind of plant was this?

There.

"Once mature, the seedling will decouple from the host in a suitable location and take root, using its stored reserves of proteins to grow to its proto-adult form in a matter of days, wherein it will begin to function along normal photosynthetic lines and will no longer require-"

Noel gulped. He had a bad, bad feeling about this.

"-a constant supply of nutrition and protection from its host."

What the hell? Was he supposed to feed this thing his blood or something? The instructions for caring for the seed had specified that it would need to be soaked in water daily, it hadn't said anything about 'proteins'!

He pulled his stick out of its spot in his tail, bringing it around and absently, nervously chewing on it. He was a thousand miles from civilisation, no one would see him indulging his old bad habit here.

Clearly, this was the part where he walked away. Obviously, right? No amount of money was worth transporting a seed that required a 'host'. Bad news, nope, seeya later.

...Right?

Noel considered the past few weeks of traveling at someone else's dime, where everything was easy and each night had a hot meal and a soft bed waiting at the end of it, even if he paid someone else to sleep on the floor in order to free up said bed. It had been a very comfortable few weeks. And the reward for this quest was... Well, it was an inconceivably large amount of money. He could keep living like that... Forever. Quit adventuring. Or maybe just only do the fun ones, when he felt like it.

Still. Noel was very attached to his proteins. Maybe a few drops would be enough? Hell, maybe he could pay someone else to-

Another, stronger yawn travelled through his body, interrupting his train of thought. He couldn't help but stretch, waving his stick around haphazardly by the wrapped grip he had fashioned on one end. His eyelids were heavy, and gosh, the crook in the roots of this plant felt so comfortable, like it was perfectly shaped for him. He'd always enjoyed a snug fitting spot, even as a kit. It felt safe. Memories of being bundled nicely in a blanket washed over him, and the Braixen yawned again. Gosh, he was so sleepy, and it was only mid afternoon. It must be the humidity, he reasoned.

It was a terrible idea to have a nap, here. He hadn't decided properly if he was going to keep looking for the plant, or leave and pocket the rest of the travel expenses. It was a decent walk to get out of the jungle and back to the nearest town, and he wanted to leave before it started getting dark. There was that local tribe he was supposed to be avoiding. There could be wild Pokemon about. Or bandits. Bugs. Sunburn. There were so many sound, logical reasons not to go to sleep in these roots.

Noel clutched at his stick with both paws, holding it against his chest, the quest notes lying in his lap. It felt like the ground was gently stroking him, soothing him. He supposed it would be okay if he rested his eyes, just for a moment. What could it hurt?

***

Noel forced his eyes open again. He'd only rested them for a moment, he was sure of it.

Purple.

Why was there purple? Noel blinked, trying to focus his eyes. It was clouds, and the sky, and the odd colouration was because it was much milder out and nearly nightfall.

Crap.

Noel felt like he'd slept on every root in the whole jungle at once. His back ached, his neck was stiff, and it took a real concerted effort to sit up at all. He groaned, cursing his traitorous body for betraying him like this. Why had he decided that it was a good idea to have a nap? It had been a terrible idea!

He drained the last of his canteen to try and stave off the dryness in his mouth before stuffing it, and the quest notes back into his backpack. Stupid. Stupid! He'd have to really haul tail if he wanted to make it back onto the road before darkness fell, and no one knew to come looking for him if he got lost. He'd have to come back tomorrow, pick up the search then, and that meant another day of wandering around in this damned-

He tried to haul his backpack off of the ground and nearly fell over. It was stuck on something. It appeared to be caught on some curl of the deep, arched roots of this plant.

That didn't seem right, on second thought. He'd picked this spot for a break because it had been smooth and clear ground, with something sturdy to lean against. A big...

Sorta... Pitcher shaped plant. Towering over him, maybe 9 feet tall. With a big plant thingie growing out the top. With a bunch of little seed pods growing on it. And it had exposed roots.

'Occupant'. 'Host'. 'Constant supply of nutrition'. 'Compels males to rest', now that he thought about it. He appeared to have found the plant.

Noel looked back down from the huge plant to his backpack, which the root had curled around. Two more roots were curled around his hindpaws, snug to the fur. He hadn't noticed them move.

Huh. That's probably bad. Maybe it was the plant who had found him.

His stick was on the ground, in the nook between the roots where he'd been napping. Now that he looked at it, the space was shaped suspiciously like him. The roots, or vines, maybe, shifted against his hindpaws as he slowly bent down for the stick. The loamy soil around the plant wasn't just loose and soft, and it was... Moving. Noel wondered, with the surreal clarity of someone in a lot of trouble, just how far the plant extended under the ground.

His paw curled around the wrapped handle of the stick. He willed the end of it to light, a tiny spark in the deepening darkness.

A lot of things happened at once. His ears were ringing, his face was against the ground, vines were tugging at his hindpaws with frightening strength. He'd brought the stick up, fire at the ready, and had totally missed the plant because it had whipped his hindpaws out from underneath him. The stick had landed... Over on the ground, over there! Noel scrabbled for it, pawtip brushing against it once, and then another heave pulled him along the ground and out of reach. Crap. Crap!

Noel shook himself, rolling onto his side to try and see what was happening. He was around the front of the plant now, the pitcher open and nearly flush to the ground, facing him. His eyes widened in shock and horror as he saw that the plant was alive with more vines, the two holding his hindpaws dragging him towards a mass of them, a dozen or more, all reaching out from inside the pitcher. Behind the towering plant, a tree was smouldering from his missed fire attack. The sun had almost set.

Oh no. No no no. Noel scrabbled with his forepaws against the dirt, trying to pull away from the plant. No no no no no! He yelped as one of the inner vines brushed against his hindpaw, trying to kick at it, turning to reach for his stick one last, desperate time. It was too far away! He was rubbish at fire without his stick! Learning to spit flames had always seemed like a waste of time when you had a stick! And hyperventilating like a moron wasn't helping at all!

Noel huffed frantically, trying to conjure up a belly full of fire, his ear-fur glowing as he reached for it, the Braixen letting out an involuntary squeak as two more vines wrapped around his paws, tugging him another few inches closer. His paws touched the waxy flesh of the plant, its hard surface a sharp contrast from the soft, supple, and disturbingly moist appendages coiling through his fur. The sensation made him shudder. He braced against the rim and sat up, taking the deepest breath he could manage and exhaling flames at the plant, his tail raising as he leaned forward and put his forepaws back, eyes squeezed shut as the flames flashed in front of his face. The tugging stopped for a moment.

Noel opened one eye, daring to hope. There was a minor soot mark on the far inside wall of the pitcher, and some of the vines were lightly blackened, but seemed none the worse for wear.

Noel made a mental note to practice breathing fire more, if he made it out of here alive.

The plant's vines seemed to recover from their shock, reaching out towards the source of the rude interruption. Noel whimpered, cringing back away from the questing appendages, crying out weakly as more of them coiled their way around his hind legs, creeping up the black fur along his thighs. He batted at the vines with his paws, huffing and panting in panic as they wound their way around his waist, more of them curling around the base of his tail. It pulled again, and this time he really shifted, the Braixen yelping as he was drawn hindpaws first over the rim of the pitcher. He twisted, turning to try and claw at the ground, curling around the rim at the waist as best he could and hanging on for dear life! Inside the plant, under the ground, he could feel more of the vines winding and stroking along his hindlegs and thighs, tickling and squeezing at him like a hundred questing paws, or tongues. He panted, trying to remember to breathe as the writhing sensations crept up his hindlegs, the Braixen tensing up as their relentless questing came upon his nethers. He let out a flustered, shuddering gasp as a half dozen slick, inquisitive vines rubbed their way between his legs, along his fox-ness, and even at the base of his tail, whatever liquid they were secreting soaking into his fur with a tingle.

The plant seemed to take advantage of his momentary lapse in focus, yanking him again. He slipped down, clutching at the rim with his forearms and chin, desperately trying to pull himself back out.

"H-help! Helllp! A-Anyone, please, haaghhnnmph!"

A vine snuck into his mouth, muffling his pleas. More of them coiled around his chest, his neck, his forepaws. He was unceremoniously lifted up and away from the rim, his paws shaking as he tried to hold onto it, before he was wrenched free, the Braixen kicking and yelling around the vine in his mouth as he tried to scrabble for purchase against the smooth, waxy walls of the plant.

And then the walls of the plant rose up over him, and the last light of the evening left the sky.

***

Death was a lot more pleasantly cool than Noel had expected. Not that he was complaining. In the moments before death, he'd been deep inside some kind of insane, carnivorous plant, wrapped from eartip to tailtip in writhing, squirming vines. He wasn't proud of the terrified whimpering he had been doing, but who could really say they'd go bravely?

It was weird, he hadn't expected to feel like stretching out in the afterlife. He attempted to break out of the calm stupor he found himself in and raise what was presumably a ghost paw to get a better look at it, but nothing seemed to move when he thought about moving it. He was kind of numb, and tingly. He couldn't see much, it was gloomy, and wet. He groaned, trying to roll over. He was... curled up on his side?

When he moved, so did everything else. Previously loose vines tightened, and Noel squeaked as he was rudely jerked off of the ground. He shook his head as he tried to orient himself, struggling in the grip of the vines. One of them had his forepaws together, holding them away and low in front of him. Two more were wrapped around his hindpaws, holding them against the bottom of the space he found himself in, so that his hindlegs were spread out wide. Another one of them had him by the base of the tail and was holding it very rudely, forcing him to keep his rear raised. Between the four of them, he could wiggle a little, but they had a surprisingly strong hold of him.

He supposed, at the very least, the plant hadn't digested him, yet. He could feel fresh air tickling the tips of his ears. He craned his neck and managed to spot starry night sky over his shoulder. The inside of the plant was roughly spherical, moist but cool in contrast to the warm, humid air wafting in from above.

So, positives. Not dead. That was a good start. Who passed out and why could remain a mystery of the jungle forever, provided he could figure out how to escape. There was the rub, though. Noel tugged at his forepaws again, exerting himself a little. They didn't so much as wiggle in the plant's grip. They might as well have been set in stone. He frowned to himself in the dimness, wondering what to do next.

It hadn't eaten him. Well, it had, a little, but clearly not just because it was hungry. He struggled to recall the quest notes, in the hopes that his vague memories of them might have a clue as to how to escape, but focusing on anything was proving to be difficult. Something in the air down here was thick, it stuck in his nose like a fog.

Foggy was bad, he'd been doing entirely too much passing out because of plants lately. Maybe if he was careful not to disturb it too much, he might be able to cut the vines around his forepaws with a little flame. Noel took a long, slow breath again, trying to focus, and yelped sharply as something touched him on his behind. What in the...?

It prodded him again, provoking another yelp. Noel looked between his legs, eyes wide. A thicker, stouter vine had risen up from the floor of the plant's insides, twisting and swaying behind him. Its tip was tracing its way up and down his exposed rear, leaving a sensation of wetness behind as it poked around blindly, circling inwards as it felt around, getting alarming close to the-

He flinched in the plant's grip as it poked at the middle, right in the worst possible spot. Something creaked, and the vine around the base of his tail curled a little tighter. As if to stop him from moving out of the way.

The thick vine touched at the base of his furred balls, tracing its way up from there to the base of his tail, the firm touch leaving behind a thick fluid and making the fur along Noel's spine stand up on end. He hissed through clenched teeth, arching his back as best he could, straining as he pulled against the vines holding him in place. There was no mistaking the intent, there. He huffed, conscious that whatever was in the air in here was making his head swim as he tried not to panic. He couldn't move, he couldn't stop it, he was trapped inside of it and it was just about to-

Noel squeaked as the blunted point of the vine pressed against him, gently but insistently. He clenched his teeth, paws curling as he tried to force himself to relax. Just relax, focus on your breathing, and-

"Aaaaahhn!" His own cry echoed in the enclosed space. The Braixen squirmed fitfully in his bonds as the thick tip slowly pushed him open and slipped inside, an inch at a time, slowly, gently, but inorexably. He huffed, squeezing his eyes shut as the sensation of stretching pushed deeper and wider than he'd ever experienced, his trapped tail twitching around in the air above him

He'd played around back there once or twice, like anyone who always had a long, thin, splinter free and well polished stick would, but nothing like this! It slid another inch deeper, his rear tingling and tight with the sensation of being stretched out, muscles he didn't even know he had growing warm as they were worked in new ways for the first time. The questing tip of the vine rubbed along something inside of him, and he squeaked again, suddenly being held aloft by the vine around his tail as all the strength in his hinglegs left him. Going limp apparently only served to encourage the plant, as it rubbed over the spot again, and again, even as it continued to slide deeper and wider inside of him. Stars hung in Noel's vision, and his tongue was hanging out of his slack jaw. He was vaugely aware that he was aching, rock hard, his length free and clear from his sheath and poking out of the longer, denser fur around his crotch. He wanted to touch it, follow along with both paws as the thing inside of him continued to firmly press against that place in a steady rhythm, but his paws were stuck. He whined gently, squirming anew in protest as the plant patiently rubbed on his insides, the Braixen's ears flattening as he felt precum began to bead up and drip off the end of his length. The stretching in his rear had been initially shocking and even a little painful, but the slow stretch and slick massaging had caused that to fade into a warm and pleasantly full sensation, tingly, not unlike the satisfying sensation of having stretched a limb that was stiff.

If he'd known it could feel like this, he'd have used more than the stick.

Then, it started to thrust in and out.

Noel kept his composure for a scant few thrusts, clenching his jaw as the thick vine pressed into him until it reached his limit, sending sparks of pleasure and sensation along his nerves, before drawing back out until it was almost outside of him. He felt strangely empty for a tiny moment with only the little tip wiggling around inside him, and then it thrust its way back in, his now stretched rear offering little resistance. The fullness, the deepness, that spot it seemed to insist on pressing against, all of it happened at once, the shock of the sensations making Noel's eyes widen, and then again, and then again. On the fourth thrust, he started to moan, huffing with each withdrawal and sounding again with each squelching probe. He sounded like a, well, a girl in heat, or maybe a boy doing his best impression of one. He was almost glad when another vine brushed against his nose.

Not actually glad though. He tried to turn away from it, clenching his mouth shut. It squirmed against the side of his mouth, pushing and wiggling in sync with the other vine in his rear. As if to punish his resistance, the other vine pushed that little bit deeper, causing Noel to squeak and gasp, and then groan and thrash in his bonds as the vine pushed its way past his teeth. He waved his head, trying to bite down or spit it out, but it was surprisingly tough and tracked his head wherever he moved it, the tip rubbing along his tongue and leaving a taste of water and the lightest mint behind. The vine swelled, filling his mouth and forcing it wide, the vine tickling at the back of his throat as it thrust into him on both ends, filling his mouth until he was forced to breathe through his nose or choke. After a few humiliating moments, he realised that something was building up in his mouth, a fluid, and there was only one way to avoid drowning in it, because it sure as heck wasn't going back out around the swollen, thrusting vine.

The first gulp was cool, maybe even refreshing. Noel wondered if the other one was doing something similar to his rear, as the cool feeling began to radiate out from his belly.

There were a lot of things to be dissatisfied about, currently. The worrying vigour with which the plant was exploring the depths of his rear suggested it would keep exploring until it ran out of places to explore. He couldn't even moan about it properly with his mouth full of vine, and heaven knew what it was squirting down his throat. He swallowed again, groaning as the fluid seemed to stick to his insides. Damn stuff was making his head swim. Plus, he'd been, you know, eaten by a plant, and was thousands of miles from home.

Mostly though, he wished he could paw off.

The desire, no, the need for release was building ominously. Even alone, on a nice night at an Inn with a fancy lock on the door, he'd never played around for this long. A pokemon played around with their more intimate, feral emotions at their own risk, but this plant was apparently determined to keep teasing and pushing his insides until he was completely drained of precum and blind with animalistic heat. Noel wondered if it was possible to die of dehydration like that. What could a plant possibly get out of...

Oh you had to be fucking kidding.

It was collecting it! There was some kind of bowl-like growth that had formed under his now dripping length, and it was partially filled of what was unmistakably his own pre, collected one agonising drop at a time. As he looked down between his legs, another droplet oozed out of his tip and landed in the bowl. He moaned weakly and squirmed, causing his tip to wave around in the air, and the bowl tracked the movement without missing a beat or spilling a drop.

Noel whimpered as the vine in his rear pushed him again, adding another drop to the bowl. On closer inspection, it was maybe two thirds full. He growled, grinding his teeth uselessly against the vine in his mouth as he strained with his forepaws. His cock was right there, demonstrably dripping with need and begging to be touched.

Right there! So close!

It was probably for the best that he didn't know what time it was. He suspected it was gonna be a long night.

***

Half an hour? Three hours? He'd lost count. He was drooling around the vine in his mouth, the fluid dripping onto the curved floor of the plant below him in slow strands, shaking loose one at a time as the vine continued to tirelessly use his mouth. His entire back half was tingling. The plant was probably still fucking him, but he'd long since stopped thinking about that, or much of anything, apart from his intense desire to paw off.

Idle daydreams of cute Braix girls had turned into idle daydreams about being fucked by cute Braix boys. It was kind of hard to stop from happening, with something moving around inside your butt. The daydreams all involved getting to cum, though. He'd gotten so worked up at the idea, the sheer need, that he'd thrashed and snarled and tried to claw at things and bite, frantically trying to hump the air. That hadn't worked, the plant had kept on milking his insides with its mindless patience, and he'd eventually worn himself out.

The plant probably didn't care for his pathetic, needy whining, but it made him feel better, a little. It was all the exhausted Braixen could manage, and making noise was helping to stay focused on not going insane with need. He'd give anything to be able to touch himself, even just for a-

Sensation arced through him like a lightning strike, waking him right up out of whatever pheromone or chemical trance the plant had put him in. Noel wiggled with renewed vigour as the unmistakable sensation of vines crept around his thighs and belly, causing him to pant with need and thrust at the air eagerly! Yes! Please, for the love of all that was good!

He moaned, eyes rolling up in his head as the vines crept around the base of his cock, squeezing down below his aching knot. He couldn't have done it better himself. He rumbled in his chest, huffing through his nose as the thin appendages wrapped around him from base to tip, gripping at the slick, sensitive flesh. There was some kind of movement underneath him and he didn't care in the slightest, because he was finally, finally gonna get to finish. It felt like he'd been edged for weeks. He'd never needed anything so much in his entire life. The vines on his length gripped and shifted, working him all over. The vine in his rear had apparently taken a break from pushing on the toe-curling spot, because it started again with a vengance, each poke making his eyes water as he groaned around the vine in his mouth. His built up need, cultivated with all the patience of a mindless collector, rapidly began to tingle in his chest and loins. The vines around his length were merciless, slipping and clenching and massaging at every spot, tight and rippling and rubbing and squeezing and milking, making his paws curl as he clenched down on the vine in his rear with all his strength. The Braixen's vision warped, blood rushing in his ears rushing as the viciously intense orgasm made his body spasm, the Braixen's deep, hoarse groan punctuated by huffs that matched each spurt as the largest load he'd ever had was dragged out of him, blessed relief washing over his body as he finally got what he wanted.

The plant didn't stop. The sensations became more intense. Noel started to squirm, and then to struggle, and then to yelp and whimper as it kept pleasuring him. He couldn't make it stop! The vines squeezed and rubbed him all over as he fought, tormenting him in exactly all the ways he'd been dreaming about only seconds ago. His overstimulated whimpering and yipping echoed in the tiny chamber as the plant continued to merrily work his length, extracting every last drop from the thrashing Braixen with methodical, oblivious cruelty. It eventually lost interest once it became clear that there was nothing more to collect, several excruciating and exhausting minutes later. The vines pulled off of him as he groaned, hanging limply from the vine coiled around his tail. Even the ones in his mouth and rear pulled free, with a sucking squelching noise. Noel coughed, spitting some of the goo it had been slowly feeding him onto the floor as he worked his aching jaw.

Well. That was a hell of a thing. To say that he had enjoyed it would be a stretch, much like the vines were still doing to his aching limbs, but he'd never been compelled to use the word 'ferocious' to describe an orgasm before.

When he managed to focus his eyes, he saw another plant bowl below him, this one filled with what was unmistakably his own semen. Before his eyes, he saw the bowl grow closed, sealing the fluid into an orb of milky white, which was then scooped up by a vine and lifted up and out of sight, presumably to be kept with its pre-filled twin.

That was what it wanted from him. Animal proteins.

The vine around his tail uncoiled, and he was unceremoniously dropped onto his belly. He was too weak to move, but vines reached out and flipped him onto his back, laying out his limbs and massaging the sore muscles. More of them wrapped around his chest, and his belly, and his limbs, and even around his neck, stroking him all over. Whatever it was putting on him, it tingled and felt nice, soothing, healing even.

Not that he could get up, effectively tied to the insides of this plant such as he was, but he felt amazingly comfortable, a welcome relief from his long ordeal.

Clearly, the plant needed him in working order and unhurt. Whatever it had fed him before, he was pleasantly full of it, and he didn't feel particularly hungry or thirsty.

Noel wondered with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity as to how many times it would feed off of him before it let him go. If it ever let him go at all. He should probably have been more worried about that, but the now familiar sensation of some kind of scent putting him to sleep washed over him. He was exhausted and drained, and the plant was soothing and rubbing him all over.

This time, he didn't fight it, and relaxed into unconsciousness.