A warm glow in the eastern sky, all pink and reddish-purple, foreshadowed the impending sunrise. Gazing out her window, rubbing her belly, Iris thought of the hot encounter the previous night. Their intimate embraces lingered in Iris’s mind and on her body. His tender loving touch, his subservience, and attention to her needs flickered like a movie in her thoughts. The whole thing had been delicious. She basked in the afterglow of their lovemaking. Iris’s fingers ran over his frame, such a tasty man.
The date lasted well into the night. Iris and Cliff hit it off in spectacular fashion, partaking of an intimate dinner at a swank restaurant, an artsy film, followed by drinks and conversation. Never an awkward silence, the two gazed into one another’s eyes. A spark passed between them, a sense of understanding, a magic moment, when those destined to be one share an epiphany — the one second when love spawns.
Her touch reached into his mind, heart, and soul. Like tendrils of a plant, the contact grew, working deep inside him, stoking a fire. Twining around his will, the seed took hold. A tangle of her clutched him, taking control of Cliff in a manner he couldn’t recognize. Cliff perceived a connection.
You must understand, Cliff found his soulmate that night. He realized this in a flash. A bolt out of the blue struck him, and he wouldn’t blow this chance. Often, all you have is one chance at happiness, one opportunity to make the perfect connection. He resolved not to muck up this thing; he’d do what’s required, in the time necessary, to win this beautiful soul.
Time, as time wants to do, got away from the young would-be lovers. And so, the hour grew late, “Last Call,” the bartender called out, and the pair made their way to the parking lot. He went to open her door. She stood with demure patients, waiting for a first kiss. Turning to her, Cliff sensed she wanted him to kiss her.
Leaning down, he parted his lips, so close, and pressed his to hers. A fire passion swept over him; he fought to control himself as burned inside his chest, his intellect, his loins. Engulfing him, consuming him, Cliff wanted Iris, every inch of her, every ounce of her love. He needed to touch her soul. The embrace went on for moments, seconds turned to minutes, minutes turned to five. Tongues danced inside one another’s mouths. Lips pressed together, dancing with one another, as sparks of electricity ran down Cliff’s spine.
At last, Iris broke the kiss, breathing hard, fixing a gaze on Cliff; Iris’s eyes devoured him. Her appearance appeared angelic, and yet her desire showed in her eyes. A lusty expression of wanton need covered her face, her tongue slivered out, running over her luscious lips, snaked back inside her mouth.
“I understand it isn’t proper, but would you like to come to my apartment? I sense, mmm, this connection with you,” again, Iris’s tongue danced on her lips and teeth. “Only this mustn’t be a one-night-stand for you. This isn’t a one-night-stand, is it? You do feel as I do?”
“I’m not sure what this is,” Cliff smiled at her. “But, if you want me in your home, I’ll be there. And no, this, for sure, is not a one-night stand at all.” ‘Can’t rush this, can’t let her realize I’m head over heels this fast,’ he thought.
On the drive to her place, they conversed. Cliff spoke of his childhood, mother and father, brother and sister, friends. Telling her more in a twenty-minute drive than he’d ever related to his ex-girlfriend in their five years. As he pulled into the parking lot, he realized he’d dominated the conversation.
Reaching across the console of the car, Iris placed her hand on his shoulder. Being a man, Cliff at once flexed his muscle. Cutting his stare to her and back to the road, he saw her smile. Her lovely smile intoxicated Cliff. Gooseflesh rose over his body, his cock stiffened.
Sensing his arousal, Iris moved her hand over his muscles, let loose of his arm, and settled into her seat again, pleased with herself.
Stoplights, stop signs, and slow traffic allowed Cliff to expose his heart and mind to the woman. He babbled on, in a constant burbling of revealing personal stories. Without thinking, he prattled on about his hopes for the future. With care, Cliff avoided the unfortunate ventures into horrid activities. His careless abuse of a woman, or two, or perhaps five or six. His two years in prison and three years of probation for sexual abuse. He’d have to tell her, or not, more than likely not.
At last, satisfied he’d been impressive, he opened the conversation up to her.
“But what of you?” he turned off the car, got out, went to her side, and opened the door. Holding his hand to her, she grasped his hand, rising from the seat. Reared onto her tippy toes, she pressed her lips to his ear.
Inside his brain, snaking into his emotions, Iris took root. Sprouting small flowers inside him, Iris took the first steps to conquer the man’s will. Slender threads, winding their way, wrapping around Cliff’s being. The unseen presence inside him worked itself into his mind, emotions, and desires. Like ivy growing over a building, Iris grew inside his thoughts.
“You have all the time in the world to learn about me,” Irish with skill guided the conversation back to Cliff’s favorite subject. “I want to know every about you,” Iris’s warm breath moved across Cliff’s ear as she spoke, warming him throughout his body.
The fires of yearning rose inside Cliff, a lascivious hunger tempting him to take her in the parking lot. He fought his nature, his wickedness, the evil which cost him so many relationships. Controlling himself, as best he could, they made out, feet from Iris’s front door. Cliff’s penis hardened, strained to be free of the clothing, wanting to plant a seed deep in her.
Iris broke the embrace, smiling at Cliff. She touched him, running hands, those soft, beautiful, diminutive hands brushing over his stiff manhood sent ice-cold, shivers of white, hot heat through his body.
“Impressive.”
Iris’s fingers rand down, cup his balls through his pants, and she squeezed him, firm but gentle. Those eager plants inside him massaged Cliff, as well, coaxing him to spill his own seed.
Cliff shuddered, a thick jet of cum erupted, spraying over the inside of his shorts and pants. The second wave of ejaculate thickened the stain, a third, fourth soaked through the material. His body weakened, he slumped, his face reddened. His mind rushed, like a drug pulsed throughout his body and mind. Pulling away, he walked to the back of the car.
“I’m sorry,” Iris repressed the urge to laugh. “I didn’t mean to make you nut. At least, not yet anyway. Don’t be angry?”
“Angry, I’m angry, alright, at me. I’m like a fifteen-year-old.”
Taking him by the arm, Iris led him to her apartment, all the while trying to make him relax, to give himself over to the sensations. Cliff stumbled as his head spun, leaning into Iris for support. Pushing back from her, he steadied himself, tried to think, but his mind refused clear. A thick fog encased his brain — notions of love and sex clouded Cliff’s emotions and understanding. Cliff’s only thought of Iris, how he needed her, needed to make love to her.
Sex is a formidable addiction, and he’d been clean and sober from fucking’s hold for six months. The two jolts, the one in the bar’s parking lot, and the mind-numbing rush when he climaxed at her touch, only moments before, tore through his veins. Rich and thick, like a hit of crystal ice, the intoxicant surged, taking charge of emotions and thoughts.
She led him into the apartment. Iris put her arm around his waist, he placed his hand on her shoulder. As if the wind went from Cliff’s sails, he slumped onto Iris, his full weight being supported by this 100-pound magnificent creature. A charge ran from her body into his, a tingle of an electric current pulsed into his brain. Devilish thoughts erupted in his mind. He wanted to possess her, to consume her.
In a more precise evaluation, he wanted her to possess him, to devour him, to make him her pleasure. Iris was a goddess, while Cliff was an adoring, fanatical follower. The energy surged through him, her power, and something of him passed to her. With all her essence invading him, Cliff should have gained strength. He didn’t; Cliff only achieved craving, surrender his will to Iris, he halted.
Cliff pulled the woman to him, wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her. Iris pushed him away, a glowering in her eyes. Her hands clutched his shirt, ripping the material away from his body. The buttons jumped, tumbled to the tiled floor, plinking as they landed, here and there. She pulled down, yanking the fabric from his body.
Her hand touched his belly, a sharp twinge moved inside him. His chest heaved as he sucked in air, Cliff sunk to his trembling knees. She pointed to her feet. He bowed, kissing her shoes, and licked Iris’s stocking covered feet and ankles.
“My Goddess,” he said, his prick engorged with blood, rubbed on the cum soaked material of his pants.
“Do you worship me?”
“Yes, my love.”
“Tell me, Clifford, little boy, do you adore me?”
Cliff nodded.
“Such a feeble, childish brain, in such a beautiful package. A yummy man-child to guzzle. You’d like me to gobble you down, wouldn’t you, for me to give you such loving you’ll be consumed?”
He nodded, beholding her with a sense of wonder. Cliff drank her into him until she filled him. Losing himself in her presence.
“Go inside,” she pointed to a door. “Strip and lay on my bed.”
Cliff tried to resist. His mind fought her control. His body needed her, his emotions needed her, he desired her, above all things, all reason, a feverish desire held Cliff’s will-power under her control. His thoughts turned to her, to her ice-hot touch, her warm breath on his flesh, the sexual energy in her sensuous physique.
Obeying her, he stripped naked, lay on his back on top of the bedspread. Strange plants grew at each of the bedposts, tendrils curled from the plants, winding their way up the bedposts. The vines curled onto the spread, snaking their way to his wrist and ankles. Wrapping around his flesh, they retracted, jerking his arms and legs far apart. They pulled tighter, cutting his legs. Deep gashes seeped blood as the creepers drank the blood. Cliff whimpered.
He glanced down at his dong, another vine wrapped around the base of Cliff’s dick and balls. Constricting, tighter and tighter, holding his erection. A few tears ran down his cheeks, his heart raced wilder, beating harder than ever before, pounding in his temples, his body burned in desire and with some fever.
She strolled into the room, her hips swaying, her naked body calling to him. He couldn’t think. No place existed for fear, for SHE was nearby. He longed for her touch, cruel and tender. He desired her to use him to devour him. Moving to him, she ran her hand over his bare, smooth chest. His boner spat sperm. Thick viscous globs exploded, rising several inches above and falling on his belly, crotch, and balls.
Iris ascended the bed. Laying her body next to him, her tongue snaked from her mouth, and she licked up his discharge. Her tongue slavered over his balls, ascended his shaft, and danced on the helmet of his still rigid pecker. Once her lips engulfed his cockhead, seed burst forth.
Sucking his semen from him, Iris bobbed her head up and down on his wiener. In a few moments, Cliff spat forth more seed. Each time he climaxed, he grew weaker. Cliff perceived less of himself existed each time he came.
“More,” he begged.
“You want more of me?”
“Yes, Mistress Iris,” tears flooded from his eyes. Cliff’s mouth turned dry as a wasteland. His blood hurt his veins as his heart drove his blood with a ferocious beating. His head felt as if it would explode at any moment. The plants contracted again, pulling his arms and legs further apart. They wound their way up to his arms, his legs, and under him at his crotch. One long, thick tendril twisted into his rectum.
“We, my lovely pants, and I will engulf you, swallow you, as our food.”
“What?” his mind refused to comprehend her meaning.
Lowering her pussy, Iris hovered a moment, trusting downward, she engulfed his cock. The passageway was dry, scratchy, and she road him. In lovely rolls of her hips, he again spat his seed. Her body absorbed the cum, and she continued riding him.
His skin flaked, bits of him falling to the bed. His tears dried. His eyes had none left to shed. When Cliff blinked his eyes, the roughness of the inside of his lids hurt. Like sandpaper running over his eyeballs. The pain didn’t matter. Iris’s gorgeous body kept him stiff as a steel rod. She fucked him, and he shot globs of cum, but his juice provided no lubrication. Her vagina sucked his cum from him as fast as Cliff produced shot a load. Pain inundated him as she and the plants fed on him.
The vine in his ass worked itself deep inside his guts. The vines covering his legs spread to his hips. His shoulders were covered with the foliage. All the plants sucked his moisture. A vine crept into his nose, reaching into his brain. While another coiled into his mouth, like a feeding tube, sliding way down into his throat. Sucking his spit as the fluid, the precious nutritious sap made its way toward his stomach.
His heart held no fear, his mind clung to no panic. The fucking was fantastic, so much so, to make up for the pain. He exploded jizz inside Iris. The fluid didn’t stay inside of her — Iris’s body sucked up the sappy jissom. He hurt. Yes, every square inch of his body throbbed as she fucked him, draining him. His sight faded. A squishing, along with his sight ending, told Cliff his eyes ruptured. He realized the plants sucked the vitreous gel from him.
“Ah, baby, you can’t see me anymore,” Iris’s lips touched his, “A kiss before we part. Though, in truth, we will never part.” She snaked her tongue into his mouth, sucking the last of his slabber from him. Sucking his life into her being.
His last emotion, last thought, in the world, “She’s happy.” Cliff died, pleased with himself for serving her well. Iris drained more and more of Cliff through the morning hours until all that remained was a dried husk of something that resembled a man.
Iris rolled over, turned her face to the open window, embracing the new day’s sunlight as it flooded her room at dawn. Iris couldn’t help but wonder how many of her pistil would grow into new versions of her. She’d have to plant the seeds once she expelled them. Feed them, water them, provide them with human fluids. But only a few mustn’t rush the invasion.
With luck, to exhaust the human population of the planet would require centuries. If Iris controlled her own reproduction. Animal life is such a fragile thing, ever so yummy, always nourishing to her species. She’d consume all of him before nightfall, and the hunt would be on for something else … moist and tasty.