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"Hurry up, Franklin, I would prefer to get to Spring's View within the next few days, not weeks!"

It had been several hours since Wendell and Franklin began their journey from Jenora's brothel, and Franklin was currently behind a tree, since nature had called. "Are ya gonna hold my dick while I piss?" shot back the hyena grumpily from behind the oak. "If not, shut it!"

Wendell rolled his eyes, turning away from the tree and twirling a finger to test and make sure his Hold spell was still in effect. A soft shimmer and distortion light, leading from his own wrist to behind the tree where Franklin was taking care of business. It was most like a tether, only much less likely to be broken for as long as Wendell could sustain it. This did mean, however, that Wendell hadn't gotten a whole lot of sleep since they started their journey, and his magical stores were still finite. "I know for a fact that you did not drink that much, Franklin, so unless you are masturbating, you should not be taking that long."

"It's difficult to get my trousers back on when my wrists are tied, alright?" grumbled Franklin as he stepped back into the clearing where they had set up camp, sulkily flopping onto a log they had set up, while Wendell worked to get a fire going. Watching Wendell use a flint and a small, steel knife made the hyena raise a brow. "Why ain't you using magic?"

"Because I'm sustaining Hold to keep you in one place," answered the rabbit, not looking up as he got some tinder and blew on it to get it going under some fire wood. "One Fire spell could mean the difference between keeping you in my sight and my magical stores running dry before we get to Spring's View." Wendell sat back, unclipping his sword from his hip and placing it on the grass beside his log. "I'm sure if you spent more time actually helping me instead of trying to escape..."

Franklin immediately swelled up. "I wasn't tryin'--"

"Yes, and that tug I felt as you went further than the maximum ten meters wasn't you running as fast as you could and tripping on my spell," interrupted Wendell, crossing his arms over his chest and lifting a brow of his own at Franklin, who clammed up before leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees to look into the growing fire, since he couldn't cross his own arms due to the rope binding his wrists.

The two went silent, which was perfectly fine for Wendell, who stoked the fire for a few minutes as the sun began to dip down. At least they would be warm. After all, Wendell had had quite enough of Franklin's dick by this point.

* * *

Franklin had, surprisingly, not tried to escape during the night, which allowed Wendell to actually get a little bit of sleep. Not a lot - only an hour or two - but it was something, at least, and it allowed him to restore some of his magical stores.

The journey went relatively smoothy as the pair cut through the rather dense forest, Wendell gathering mushrooms for them both. Twice, Franklin tried to run off while Wendell was gathering, possiby thinking that the red mage couldn't sustain Hold while doing something else. Franklin also only tried to escape during the day, and Wendell could only guess that was because he was at least smart enough to know that running around in the forest at night was a very bad idea, so he instead slept through the night to have the energy to run during the day.

At least, that was the theory.

After two more nights of this and little else, Wendell and Franklin emerged into a clearing, where a stream cut through the trees. "Ooh, here we go," said Wendell, lifting a hand to tap his bottom lip. "This is good; I could get us some fish, now."

"Great," said Franklin grumpily, but his tail wagging back and forth betrayed his happiness that they were finally getting something different from mushrooms.

Wendell drew his wand out of the holster on his thigh and twirled it around for a moment. "They will be small fish, mind," said the rabbit, a blue shimmer surrounding the oaken rod. Franklin shrugged, then flinched as Wendell flicked his wand. The bottom layer of the stream's water froze, before Wendell snapped the tip of his wand up, where several spikes of ice came up, spearing several minnows and, luckily enough, a frog, where they all flopped and wiggled uselessly.

"...Impressive," muttered Franklin.

Wendell smirked. "Thank you. You can gather them whilst I gather firewood, and we can make camp."

Not long afterwards, the two were sitting near the river, a fire going and with each of them holding a sharpened stick with several fish stuck on them as they cooked them over the fire. "How much longer 'til we get there?" asked Franklin, as he chewed on his bit of frog.

"Not long now," answered Wendell, looking up at the sky. "We keep our heading west and we should be back at the city by mid-afternoon tomorrow." Franklin nodded, reaching up to adjust the collar Wendell had put on him so he could swallow.

"Put this on a little tight, didn't you?" asked the pyromancer, wincing.

"Sorry, I only got the one that I thought would fit you based on your description, not the one that would give you the most comfort. You are a criminal, after all." Franklin merely twitched, lifting a shoulder and tearing off a little more of his frog. It was slightly undercooked, which made Wendell wrinkle his nose, since there was still a little bit of blood leaking from the dead animal. He didn't say anything, though. They didn't have seasoning, after all. Perhaps the blood added just a little bit of flavor to it for Franklin. Can't decide if that makes it better or worse.

They fell into silence again, though once Wendell finished his own fish and stood up, he froze, both ears perked up. There was a rustling in the brush behind him. "Franklin," he hissed at the hyena, who was picking his teeth with the sharp end of his stick before he blinked and perked up an ear as well. "We're not alone."

Franklin stood up, stepping to stand near the mage. "I need something to defend myself with," he said, his crimson eyes twitching in the direction of several different areas around them.

Wendell bit his lip, before reaching into his vest and pulling out the hyena's dagger, turning to cut Franklin's ropes and handing him his blade back. "I'm tying you up again once we get out of this, got it?"

"Yeah, sure," muttered Franklin, holding his dagger inverted, though before either of them could do anything, thick green vines shot out from behind Franklin, wrapping around his throat and waist, dragging him backwards away from Wendell, who felt his ankles get pulling out from under him, and he fell forwards onto his face.

Wendell lifted his wand, a red shimmer surrounding the rod as he waved it, before snapping it downwards to send a fireball down at the vine, the flames cutting through the plant, though more were coming down at him as he climbed to his feet, and he knocked them away with more of his Fire magic the best he could, looking over his shoulder.

Franklin was doing about as well as one could expect with only his strength and a dagger to defend himself, which wasn't bad, but it was clear he was in over his head. However, the vine around his throat was tightening, and it was only because the collar he was wearing was made of metal with a shimmering gem in the middle that it wasn't cutting off his oxygen. "Could use a hand over here!" yelled the hyena, who had his dagger stuck into the vine around his throat.

Wendell, grimacing, lifted his wand again, running away from the vines that had tried to drag him away, and jabbed the tip of his wand, aiming at the vine around Franklin's throat. The hyena, with a surprising burst of strength, wrenched the vine down just in time, and the fireball struck the sealing gem on the collar, making it blacken, before shattering. "Shit," hissed Wendell as flames burst along Franklin's forearms and the hyena pulled on a wide grin.

Wrenching himself away from the vines with the help of his fire, which probably kept more vines from pursuing him, Franklin turned away from Wendell and began to run, though the rabbit twirled his wand, and just as the hyena leaped over the stream Wendell had gotten the fish from, Wendell suddenly pulled back, the Hold spell making Franklin fall face-first into the water. Steam bloomed from the hyena's body as he rose up onto his hands and knees, his brown ears pinned back against his skull. "You're still my prisoner, Franklin."

"Not for long," growled Franklin, turning on Wendell and tossing a fireball, the rabbit countering with some fire of his own, where they cancelled each other out in a flash of light and smoke. However, Franklin sprinted through the smoke, his dagger drawn as he closed the distance between himself and his captor. Wendell ducked under the first swipe, countering with an Ice spell that locked up Franklin's right arm, though the hyena was able to land a punch upon Wendell's cheek with his left fist.

Wendell pulled back a leg, sweeping it up to kick Franklin into the side of his knee, making the hyena fall, before Wendell snapped up his other leg, the heel of his boot colliding with Franklin's nose. The hyena's head snapped back, both nostrils gushing blood, before he fell onto his back and clutched his face. "For your own good, stay down," ordered Wendell, pointing his wand at Franklin's chest. Somehow, he'd managed to sustain Hold the entire time, but he could feel his magic draining, little by little.

Franklin groaned, lifting his head up and baring his red-stained teeth at Wendell. "Or what?" hissed Franklin, his voice dulled by his broken nose and his eyes glowing crimson, now. "You kill me, you lose your bounty." The hyena's red eyes looked down, behind Wendell, and Franklin's face suddenly split open as his grin returned. "Besides, you have bigger problems."

Two massive vines slammed down onto either side of Wendell, making the rabbit flinch and turn. Franklin lifted up, kicking Wendell's wrist and making the mage drop his wand to the ground. A vine, thicker than the ones that had grabbed the pair earlier, wrapped around Wendell's waist, pinning one arm to his side, and he looked over his shoulder to see what had grabbed him.

A large, deep green bud, slightly taller than Franklin, rested in the grass. Several vines were sliding out of the top, with the larger, spiked vines on the bottom were allowing it to move towards the water of the stream. "Creeper Flower," said Franklin, who had climbed to his feet, arms crossed over his chest, his hyena grin still on his face despite the blood staining his teeth. Wendell turned, digging his heels into the ground, trying to get away from the monster. The bud opened suddenly, and a wave of some strange, sweet-smelling pink mist invaded Wendell's nostrils and lungs. He coughed and wheezed, but a warmth was flowing through his body, now, and he shivered, his toes curling in his boots.

When the Creeper Flower had opened, it revealed its petals, forming a massive pink flower. Several vines were wrapping around Wendell, now, sliding under his trousers and clothes like snakes. Franklin threw his head back and laughed his hyena laugh, catching Wendell's attention, before Franklin backpedaled, his hand over his mouth. "It and its kin must've wanted to get to the water... Hm." He frowned under the cover of his hand, before pulling his broad shoulders up in a shrug. "Well, have fun with that!" he said, and Wendell realized Franklin wasn't being affected by the mist because Wendell had broken his nose.

Weakly, and with his free hand, Wendell lifted his hand. "Wait," he said thickly, sweeping his arm in Franklin's general direction, though the ice didn't come, and the shimmering light that was connecting the two disappeared. Wendell was out of magic. Franklin laughed again and lifted his own free hand to wave, before sprinting off, along the bank of the stream.

"Catch you later, bunny!"

A tearing of fabric caught Wendell's attention as Franklin disappeared, and he looked down. "Damn it, I liked these trousers..." His clothes were being torn and removed, little by little, the Creeper Flower's vines pulling him onto one of the large, pink petals. It smelled even sweeter, now, and the petal was very soft, if a little moist.

Wendell wasn't too worried; The Creeper Flower, while not a creature to take "no" for an answer, wasn't lethal, but the mage was more than a little frustrated that it had caused him to lose his bounty, and there was very little now that Wendell could do. And who knew how long the Creeper Flower would take once it started to feed? A pair of vines hooked over his waistband from under the trousers, tugging the down along his toned rabbit legs along with his boots.

Well, he might as well try to enjoy himself, he decided, and made an attempt to roll over, though the Creeper wasn't having it, as a vine wrapped around each of his thighs, tugging them up so that they were practically sticking straight up into the air, his shoulders resting on the pedal as a vine tethered his wrists together above his head. Only the clothes on his chest and his cape were left, now; His hat had, surprisingly, remained on his head the entire time.

No one really knew how the Creeper Flower knew the difference between sentient species and the creatures of the wood, or even the difference between male and female creatures, but Wendell himself wasn't exactly caring all that much at the moment, as a vine, covered in a thick, viscous liquid, slid up and down between his butt cheeks, making him let out a low, soft groan, his now-free toes curling. Yet another vine poked at his cheek, before sliding along his lips. Opening his mouth, he allowed entry of the vine between his lips, feeling his mildly bucked teeth rub along the smooth, yet very firm surface.

This vine was covered in that thick liquid as well, and it merely rested in his mouth. The liquid was very sweet and Wendell suckled on the vine, swallowing the liquid as it gave it to him. His pink dick, which was rock hard by now, suddenly got engulfed by something, and he looked up, grunting around the vine in his maw. A hollow, transparent vine with an opening on the tip had slid over his shaft as it hung down onto his own belly, and Wendell allowed his head to flop back onto the petal again.

Well, no doubt, the Creeper Flower would be getting quite the meal soon enough, Wendell reasoned absently, since Franklin had been everything but gentlemanly during their time together in Jenora's brothel, leaving the rabbit frustrated and quite pent up. The vine that was at his rear finally pressed firmly between his cheeks, the liquid acting as an effective lubricant as it penetrated him, and Wendell felt his eyes cross behind their lids as the tip pressed against his prostate, though it went further a little too soon for his tastes. Not that it mattered too much, since the vine inside of him now was just a little thicker than Franklin had been, and as it slid into him, inch by inch, he could swear he felt his stomach bulging out, not that he could see it.

The hollow vine on his shaft started to apply quite a bit of suction now, sliding slowly up and down and making the rabbit start to huff and whine around the vine in his mouth and through his nose. The vine that had worked its way into his tailhole also began to move, lifting Wendell's lower half up every time it pulled back, since it was so thick and he was practically stretched taut around it, and also made Wendell's body curl inwards as it slid back in, effectively making his legs bounce rather comically as they stuck straight up in the air.

Unlike Franklin, the Creeper Flower took great care to make absolutely sure that the tip of its vine speared across Wendell's prostate with each pass, forcing a groan of ecstacy out through the rabbit's nose. It wasn't long until the vine began to speed up, bouncing the slender rabbit's body more quickly. Wendell's eyelids lifted open as he threw his head back, his eyes rolling back into his head, though his action knocked his red mage hat to fall off his head, though in his state of near-constant dazed pleasure, he didn't notice.

Finally, Wendell's body thrashed and his back arced and the muscles around the vine contracted. The hollow vine around his dick was filled - literally - to the brim with a near-steady stream of the results of Franklin's disregard. The vine in his mouth slid out and he took in a gasp of air, though he immediately let out a heavy, loud groan, his toes curling tightly over his head.

It took a good twenty seconds for the rabbit to come down off his orgasm, the vines around his thighs releasing him so that he flopped onto his back. Punch-drunk, and under half-lidded eyes, Wendell lifted his head up, watching the vine in his butt as it retreated from his rear, inch by inch, before with a pop, it came free, and Wendell's head fell back against the soft petal again.

"God, if it weren't for the fact that you cost me my bounty..." Wendell pulled his hands back, though his wrists were still wrapped up by the vine, to rub his face. "Ugh... I'm talking to a fucking plant." One ear perked up and he shook his head at his own accidental joke, his hands slid up past his face and through the fur on his scalp as he looked down again. The vine engulfing his dick was still there, still draining the white cream that Wendell had supplied it. Wendell could only guess that the Creeper Flower was holding him there until it finished its meal, so he flopped his head back, deciding he might as well attempt to relax.

Suddenly, Wendell blinked, patting his head with his hands. "Where is my hat?" he muttered, lifting his head to look around, first to his left, then to his right, and finally lifting his shoulder to make sure he wasn't laying on it, before tilting his head back to look upside-down towards the spot in the center of all the pink petals. His hat, still with the red feather tucked into it, rested near the center, and Wendell, even though his mind was in a haze from the pheromones and aphrodisiac slime that he basically drank as if it were milk, huffed softly.

Rolling over onto his belly, his wrists still bound, Wendell pulled himself onto his elbows and knees. The hollow tube-vine remained attached despite the change in gravity as Wendell started to crawl to his hat, grunting every now and then, as it was a slow and awkward process. Just as he was about to grab hold of his head accessory, a vine suddenly wrapped around his waist again, dragging him back several feet to the spot he was previously. "H-hey!" he yelped incredulously. "Could not have waited another two seconds, could you?"

However, as the plant didn't have ears - or maybe it did and simply didn't care, for all Wendell knew - it ignored him, pulling his lower body up so that gravity took his cape down and bunched up around his shoulders. His butt was perked up as the vine slid to his hips to hold him, though he was still able to support himself with his feet. Wendell sighed. This thing was insatiable, but it was by far a better lover than Franklin, so in the end the bunny relaxed again, deciding that he'd probably get another chance at grabbing his hat once the Creeper Flower "milked" him again.

This time, a vine didn't go into his maw, as it didn't really need to now, as Wendell was basically as horny as he was going to get by this point without his mind shutting down. The vine binding his wrists slowly started to loosen, and Wendell blinked, shifting his wrists. The vine didn't tighten back again, but it stayed around his wrists. It was as if the plant was deciding whether or not to to allow Wendell a little bit of freedom, now.

Well, by this point, Wendell had resigned himself to his fate as a cum doll for the Creeper Flower to drain him of every last drop of protein Wendell had, and anyway, it was very unlikely that Wendell would be able to get away even if he wanted to, now. So he relaxed the best he could, though with the tube-vine applying suction to his dick again, it was a little difficult. Still, the vine around his wrists did finally slip away, and he let out a sigh, rotating his wrists a bit before folding his arms under his chin.

Wendell blinked, feeling something slide around one of his ankles as it traveled, snake-like, upwards, going around and around his leg and forcing it to bend at his knee and lifting his calf up. Lifting his shoulders, Wendell lowered his head so he could look upside-down at his leg as, indeed, a vine had done what it felt like it was doing, forcing him to put most of his weight, though it was lessened by the vine wrapped around his hips, on one foot. It kept sliding, as well, the tip once again pressing to the hole under his tail, though this time it penetrated quite easily for obvious reason, still making Wendell let out a soft, pleased chitter.

The rabbit mage lost track of time, only this time it was because his mind had become lost in a sea of ecstasy and orgasm after orgasm, though the plant was nice enough to allow Wendell to rest for a few minutes after every milking session, and at one point allowed him to get a drink of water, only to immediately start milking him again. Being a rabbit, and basically regularly injected with enough aphrodisiacs to start an orgy in a temple of monks, Wendell wasn't given any rest until several hours later, he literally passed out, the Creeper Plant dumping him rather unceremoniously onto the grass, along with the foreign object that was his hat, before the plant closed its flower back into a bud, and went on its way again, using its "travel" vines to pull itself along the ground to resume its migration.

* * *

By the time Wendell had finally reached Spring's View, it was noon the following day. Since Wendell's prisoner had run off, he was able to shave a few hours off his initial prediction. The Creeper Flower's influence was still coursing through his veins, though he had stuffed his hands in his pockets to hide the raging erection that had persisted from public eye the best he could. Still, without a prisoner, he decided that the more important thing was to wait it out, rather than drop by the Ranger's Guild, where there would probably be various men for him to jump on, and he didn't need that reputation.

Keeping his eyes down, his hat tipped down over his eyebrows to assist in this, Wendell walked swiftly down the cobblestone street, towards where he knew the apartment building he lived in was, even if his arousal-addled mind was mostly on getting a dick inside him again. All he needed to do was lock himself in his room for a few more days, masturbate a lot, and drink a lot of water to flush his system.

However, just as he rounded a corner, he suddenly ran into what felt like a brick wall covered in fur, and he stumble backwards, landing heavily onto his rear. His hat followed, landing at the feet of whoever he'd run into. "Oh, damn, ya alright?" asked a thick accent, and Wendell looked up as the man kneeled, picking up the rabbit's hat and extending a large, callused, black hand. The equine - Wendell guessing he was a Clydesdale horse - was massive, his biceps alone looked almost as thick as Wendell's torso, though that might have just been Wendell's aphrodisiac-addled mind playing tricks on his perspective.

Something clicked in his mind suddenly, Wendell recognizing the stallion as the blacksmith for a forge that Franklin had robbed of its contents and burned its storehouse to the ground. Wendell had seen him talking to the guards, but never talked to him, himself. Wendell shook his head clear it out the best he could, though there was very little effect. "N-no... I mean, yes, I am unhurt," he said, placing his much smaller hand into the horse's, forcing himself not to shiver from the obvious strength the blacksmith showed as he lifted Wendell easily to his feet.

The horse held out Wendell's hat and the little rabbit accepted it, thanking him softly as he shifted back and forth on his feet, his mismatched eyes watching the horse's face as it creased with worry. "Ya sure ya don't need anythin'? Ya look... Flustered."

"'Flustered' is a good word for it..." Wendell shook his head again, though, and looked to his left. He had just happened to walk into the horse right in front of his apartment building. Well. That's convenient. Wendell bit his lip for a moment. "Actually... Could I have your name?" he asked, looking back at the blacksmith, the words leaving his lips automatically.

The stallion smiled toothily. "Angus," he said, his tail whipping merrily behind him.

"Well, Angus... Would you happen to be doing anything for the next... Two days or so?" asked Wendell, almost sounding casual, though he was practically a loaded spring by this point, forcing himself to hold back from leaping onto Angus and wrapping his legs around the blacksmith's waist.

Angus lifted a hand, rubbing the back of his neck as he sighed. "No, my shop got robbed and the storehouse burnt to the ground, ya see. I won't be able to bring in product to forge 'til I get a new one built, and that'll be another week, at the least. I'm doin' some odd jobs here and there to keep myself busy in the meanwhile."

Wendell's pulse quickened, and he felt his tail started to wiggle as he glanced to his building again. "...W-well... Ah, I do need a favor, and it will be worth some gold," he said, and he looked back at Angus just in time to see the horse's ears perk up. "...And it will certainly keep you busy for a few days," Wendell muttered under his breath as he reached out, taking hold of Angus' wrist as he tugged the massive stallion along behind him, striding towards the building. "I live here..."

"Oh, aye, ya need a window fixed, laddie?" asked Angus, grinning, though he paused a moment. "I can work on that, but I'd need some tool--" Wendell turned back, reaching out to grab Angus by the front of his tunic and pulled him through the door.

"You already have the tool I need for the job I'll pay you for," said Wendell quickly, practically dragging the stallion that probably outweighed him by nearly a hundred pounds in pure muscle down the hallway, past his landlord, who didn't look up from his book, and up the stairs before practically sprinting towards his door, Angus obviously very confused and not sure what the hell was going on.

"I'm not understand--" Wendell interrupted Angus by yanking the horse into his room and closing the door behind him. The rabbit's chest was heaving as he shoved Angus onto his bed. Angus watched, his eyes as round as dinner plates, as Wendell started to frantically disrobe, fingers tearing the already tattered clothes. The stallion gulped, his tongue sliding over flat equine teeth and his hand falling upon his groin.

"Angus, what I need," said Wendell - his voice was hoarse - tossing his cape and tunic away before he pulled his trousers down his thighs, "is for you to shut up and fuck me."