The Piggybac Trapper

Inhaling deeply, Ameelia felt the giddy, woozy wave she had come to know and adore so much wash throughout her whole body, making everything warm, her head fuzzy and numb, and her pussy tingle and quiver.

She had been cultivating it -- slowly, gently, keeping it well watered and fertilised and constantly attended to by her soft, nurturing hand -- for months now. At the start of the year she had found it, shrivelled and dead in the dirt, and a week after that had happened to stumble across someone who had been impregnated by it purely by chance, some kilometre or so away in a small but winding public garden. Digging up the soil later that night, against all odds she had found one of the tiny white sacs cocooned in gooey protective gel and carried it in a plastic bag back home. Since then, she had nurtured it in a pot inside her home until she could get it to flower.

Ameelia was no stranger to the plant. At 29, she had been a kid when the plants had been rediscovered in the country and the resulting shockwave had hit the nation. After not seeing it for eighty years, authorities

claimed

to have found not just wild growths of the plant, but people carrying their seeds. Six months later after great rallying both for and against and many ill-informed parties weighing in on the topic, despite the vocal arguments of many fighting for drug and sexual freedom, the national government banned the plant and outlawed any cultivation or interaction with it, making everything from seeing it and not reporting it to being an integral part of its life cycle illegal and jailable.

Ameelia had grown up in a freedom family, a general term given to a person or group vocal about more freedom for themselves or others, regardless of what that was. As such, she had thought of the plants as misunderstood and unfairly rejected from an early age, and grown up to admire them and naturally want to find out why they were against the law. By the time she was old enough to go to where she could learn more, she was a youthful, free-willed teen, sex-positive and oftentimes getting high.

Nowadays, though she stayed away from the drugs generally, she was still sexually untethered and very open to different, new interactions. She had been in relationships with men, women and all forms of asexual, unisexual and other 'sexually abnormal' people, and had tried just about anything legal, from toys and machines to the full-on sex houses starting to become commonplace just today -- businesses whose sole purpose was to trade money for an unrivalled sexual experience, stimulating everything from the body to the spirit in entire facilities built solely for sexual freedom. Padded rooms, intricate machines, workers paid to pleasure, drugs, stimulants, aids and more, it was all there in one glorious clusterfuck of joy -- all in an effort to find herself. And, she had -- many times over.

But in the past few years she had mellowed and sought out solidarity, and when she had simply stumbled across this magical species in the centre of its cycle, she had immediately been intrigued, drawn in by fascination and the knowledge of what the plant could do. Now, eight months later, she had a bushy, leafy growth in her indoor pot, and it was beginning to take on a smell she had only ever read about, but which made her feel exactly as it had been described.

Yesterday, it had flowered. It was only two small, modest buds, tiny pink tubes barely bigger than her pinkie and lightly coated in a thin film and they had shrivelled up almost as quickly as they had opened. But the smell had been incredible, and she had quickly found herself getting intoxicated on it, sitting for hours before the plant, breathing it in until the growths toppled over and shrivelled. For hours after they had closed up tight, she could still smell the heady perfume strongly about the plant, and she had it in her mind when she filled her pussy with her favourite toy in the shower that evening.

Ameelia was excited today. Ecstatic, even, and for one good reason: the plant was flowering again. This morning when she'd gotten up for her run, she'd caught draught of the smell from the other room, and when she'd gone to check on it, she found multiple tightly closed, banana-like buds sitting atop several tight green stems. All through her morning exercise and work, she'd dreamed with an itch between her legs of it, and now as she gave it its lunchtime watering, she thought she could see them beginning to part.

Even with the buds closed, the perfume was overpowering, making her docile and giddy. As she gently stroked the bushy leaves, lightly watering the roots, she found herself slumping more and more on her stool, her legs flopping apart, her back curved. She caught herself before she drifted off and stumbled away to wet her face, but the cool dampness between her legs and the race of her heart were constant reminders and she found she couldn't bear her work again after that.

Returning to the plant twenty minutes later, after a face wash and a bite to eat, Ameelia tossed her warm shirt on her bed and walked in only her bra and pants back into her back room.

There, proud and tall atop a thick stem right in the centre was a bright pink tube, about eight inches long and as thick as a well-filled sausage. It was covered in a thick film of rippling gel and it waved softly about, a tiny aura of pink mist all around it. Below it, several other tubes, very obviously only just freed by the sight of their still half-unfurled sepal leaves, were also glowing in the afternoon light around the bush's edges.

Ameelia was on her stool, legs wide apart in front of the plant before she had recognised how strong the scent had grown. By the time she'd processed the thought, her nose was right in front of the biggest of them, and she was deeply inhaling the strongest concentration of the plant's hypnotic perfume she'd ever smelled in her life.

If the scent before had made her giddy and aroused, this misty air whisked her brain to mush and made her lips quiver. Before she could consciously process it through the mud that her brain had become, she was leaning over the long tube, which was at the perfect height to put it right in front of her face, and taking it gently in her mouth.

Ameelia had been able to find next to nothing about the plant's taste. It seemed like no one had ever bothered to taste one, or if they had, they hadn't been able to remember it afterwards. The lack of knowledge had made her only want to put one in her mouth more, and here she was, reflexively doing just that.

The plant's gel had a strong, sweet taste and a texture a little like cream, soft and sticky in her mouth like semen but with a more regular sensation and heavier weight to it. It seemed to fill up her cheeks and coat her tongue, and as she slipped her lips over the tube and let it slide effortlessly up into her mouth, she found it produced more constantly, quickly filling up her mouth around it until she was forced to swallow. When she did, it rolled down creamy-smooth, feeing like it was coating her insides, and it quickly produced more so that she was forced to swallow again.

As if guided by instinct alone, Ameelia shuffled herself slightly on her stool, positioning herself better so that she could get more around the tube. Then, with the thick, sweet taste filling her mouth, she began to slide down it, slowly but steadily, her eyes fluttering closed as she felt the impossibly soft tube in the centre of the gel bending to slide back into her throat, until without really knowing how far she'd gone, her lips touched the soft, rubbery leaves at its base, and the whole eight inches was inside her.

For a while, Ameelia just held it there, content entirely to breathe in and keep swallowing the gel. It was weird to feel the tube around her throat as she swallowed, but found she could quite easily handle it after a little discomfort. Almost without realising it, she had lifted her butt a little off the stool and shuffled her pants off with her free hand -- now, she sat with only her bra on, her pants around her ankles, her slack legs as wide as they could go beneath her. Between her legs, another stalk had bent in close to her body, and as it gently angled in towards her bare pussy, thickly slathered in gel, it pushed up slightly and made contact.

Almost before she'd felt it touch her labia, Ameelia felt the tiny sensation of her second set of lips parting, and then there was only the soft vibration of the tube slipping effortlessly up her waiting canal in the centre of a thick wad of lubricant gel, filling up her insides the same way the one in her mouth was. It was only when she felt it touch her back wall and realised it had filled her completely up that she thought to pull the one in her mouth out.

Blinking her blurry eyes open, weak with numb pleasure and tranced to paralysis, she only just got her eyes open in time to see the leaves wrapped up at the base of the tube unfurling in above her face. She blinked again and tried to pull the tube from her throat, but her arm was really only hanging onto the stalk by her hooked fingers, and her tugging was more of a weak, half-hearted yank. By the time she got any movement out of the soft tube in her mouth, the leaves were beginning to wrap around her cheeks and chin. She tried to cry out, but she could only sigh contentedly at the worst, and as she physically resigned herself to her fate, she watched one of the leaves curl up against her left eye and was only just able to close it in time.

Weak, giddy, aroused to the point of explosion and completely immobilised, Ameelia could only feel her body continuing to relax deeper and deeper in the plant's grip as the same thing happened between her legs, and Ameelia's body was sealed to its double-ended fate.

She had wanted this -- the insemination, that is, the months of irresistible pleasure, the chance to carry the completely non-intrusive, painless seeds, and the opportunity to be a part of keeping the species alive. But she hadn't wanted it to put them in her tummy -- well, not

that

part, anyway.

Completely numb, only her lips on both ends vibrating with bliss, Ameelia slipped further off her stool as she faded into pleasure, forgetting herself and everything around her save for her hypnotic joy, floating in emptiness inside her mind, lost to the world and completely at the plant's phallic mercy.

It was only by chance that Ameelia skipped out on her fate. As she sank further and further into empty, blissful trance, she sank lower and lower on her stool, her wide legs and weak body dragging her further and further down until she simply fell from the stool flat on her back on the carpet. The tube attached to her pussy bent easily with the motion, remaining connected, but as she fell, the length buried in her face was yanked out, the leaves making a tiny sticky sound as they were pulled away.

The full length of the pink tube slipped with a sticky, sucking gel sound out of her body and hung in the air above her, still pointed down in the shape it had formed inside her, the sepal leaves frozen in position around the thing that was no longer there. The tube in the centre, still sticky with lubricant, gently bulged along its length, from base to tip, the sections of the stigma bending outwards at the end like fingers turned away from one another pushed slightly apart, and as it did a subtle shape was revealed, showing that the tube, rather than one long stem, was actually several tightly wound rubbery lengths knitted closely together that grew together and expanded outwards.

As they parted very slightly in an iris-like motion to allow the tiny seed inside to pass through, the tip tilted open like a thin funnel -- this was how the plant helped to open up a mate's womb -- a thick glob of gel bubbled from the tip, and in its centre, a white seed the size of a large grain of rice emerged in the middle and the whole sac fell from the tip, landing on Ameelia's chest with a wet

splap.

Lost to the world, ignorant of everything save her own bliss, Ameelia didn't notice. This continued for several minutes, until at last a mass of clear gel was splattered across Ameelia's breasts and stomach, quivering with her body's movement, tiny white seeds visible inside its mass.

Awakening some time later, Ameelia found herself spread-eagled on the floor, giddy, used, joyous, and covered in a sticky goo. Lying in a pool of pleasure for some time, she eventually slid herself to her elbows and looked down over herself to see a mass of rapidly evaporating gel spread across her breasts and stomach, tiny white capsules inside it in different places. Her mouth still gummy with the stuff, her throat feeling soft and coated still, she looked up to see a quickly shrivelling flower hanging above her head, the now completely limp tube in the centre spent and brown. Even as she watched, it was sagging down towards the carpet, and within a few minutes it had lost all strength and was limp against the side of the pot. Beside it, a second stalk still drew a rough line from the plant to her body between her parted legs, where a glistening cunt sat lightly quivering.

Ameelia took some time to rouse after her heady sleep under the plant's influence, but when she did, her nipples still erect below her bra, her clit hard, she quickly extracted some dirt from the pot, ignorant of her nudity, and scooped the seeds on her chest into it. Then, she put them in the fridge to slow down any decaying process, and showered for a long time until she was sure that the gel was gone. The scent of the mist seemed to hang all around her, in her mouth, nose and all over her body, but she did her best to rid herself of it before rewardingly rubbing herself silly from sheer arousal.

That night as Ameelia lay naked in her bed, one hand lightly resting on her tummy, the other over her snatch, she wondered if any of the seeds had gone down he throat, and what exactly was going on in her womb at that moment. It made her nervous but excited to think about those tiny grains inside her, feeding off her body, using her sustenance and preparing to make her cum them out again. She hoped that none had gone into her stomach, but then, she mentally shrugged -- she wouldn't know until it was time, and nothing could change that now.

The plant had already shrivelled up in its pot, and by the time she had gone to bed, it was little more than a tiny house cactus, only small fronds and a tiny root base remaining. She was certain that by morning it would be gone completely, its sole purpose in life completed.

When they came, Ameelia was ready for them. She scheduled plenty of breaks in her work and was sure to ensure no one was visiting. On the day it started, two weeks after her plant had died away, she sat herself completely naked atop her pot, which she had turned over and refreshed with new soil and fertiliser the week before, and passed her first load. Quivering and moaning and clinging with her bare feet to the base of the pot, she experienced a better orgasm than even sex houses had made her feel before, and, aching and tight and covered in sweat, when finally the last one had dropped from her shaking pussy, she collapsed off the pot and vibrated in the foetal position until her bliss had died away and she could pass out properly.

A month later, Ameelia had deposited five different groups all around her town. Some she had risked putting in slightly more public places -- a wide, rolling grassland some hour from her house had been the most populated, sitting under a bridge in a valley between several overgrown bushes, she had struggled not to scream as she ejaculated her load -- while others she had put far out of town in pastures and fields. Hopefully, she thought, she had been able to spread her seeds far enough out that many could find the magical green and pink bushes.

When her final load came, it surprised her. Usually they had come late in the afternoon or at night, but this one hadn't started until deep into the morning. Waking up busting, Ameelia had instantly recognised the urge and knew she had nowhere left to go.

Sneaking out into the warm night in only her underwear, one hand forced between her legs, Ameelia stalked across her tiny backyard in desperation, knowing she had nowhere to go. Her pot was already full and she couldn't bear to risk killing off too many seeds with a new crop, but she had to go somewhere. Dashing back through the house, ignorant of her loose bra and thin panties, she ran out the front and desperately looked about herself. Between her legs she was already beginning to leak, and a glistening clear fluid was running down her thighs.

The street was quiet, and there was a small strip of natural land out the front where plain trees could be grown. Knowing she couldn't rip her underwear off and squat on the side of the road but seeing no other place to go, she ran as far as she could go up the road, which ended up only being about a house length before collapsing to her knees, her cunt nearly exploding. Full of equally strong conflicting emotions and sensations, Ameelia had no option but to tear her thin panties asunder and shove her pussy against the grass on the side of the street. She balled them up and shoved them in her mouth desperately, and as the first tiny, gel-coated packet made her lock up as it began to slide down her body, she could only do her best not to make any more noise than was absolutely necessary.

When hands touched her sides and someone crouched down beside her, Ameelia was almost too deep to care. Looking was hindered by another full-body lock-up as she passed another seed, and when eventually she could turn to look, her body opted for her instead to shake and shudder in orgasm, soaking the already wet panties in her mouth with saliva as she desperately tried not to moan too loudly.

'Shh, it's alright, I'm a friend,' the low, feminine voice said beside her ear as she came helplessly. The stranger 'helped' by unhooking her bra while she sat frozen in time and space, and folding it gently up to stuff in her pocket as Ameelia came. When the sac fell from her body and she resumed the shivering, shaking overload of bliss, the woman held her close, her arms around her chest, her hand over her mouth.

Passing her load in this way, the pair sat on the side of the road, one clothed, holding the other naked as she shook and orgasmed end on end for nearly half an hour. By the time Ameelia was done, she collapsed back into the woman's arms, weak, spent, shaking and panting. She didn't argue when the woman took her hands and helped her to her feet, nor when she hooked her arm under her shoulders and helped her stumble back towards her home. She couldn't even argue when the woman missed her house and went instead to the one just over her neighbour's.

Twenty minutes later, Ameelia sat shivering in a warm blanket, eyes fluttering from drowsiness, a warm cup of coco in her hands, still remembering the ghostly pleasure of the seeds in her cunt and the cool hands around her breasts, hands that seemed to understand when she was full of bliss and tweak her nipples or grind her tits at the perfect time to even further enhance it, hands that had sometimes dipped down to vibrate atop her clit or slide slick digits into her quaking holes.

As she remembered those things, the woman came back in and sat in front of her in the lounge. She was taller than Ameelia -- where Ameelia was short and thin, this woman was tall and curvaceous. Where Ameelia was curvy for sure, this woman was buxom and vibrant, feminine to a tee. Where Amelia had small hands and modest features -- eyes, nose, nipples, mound -- this girl she could see was large and proud and full of energy. She had large hands, large breasts, large hips, big lips and eyes, and her breasts, for she had stripped while she had been in the other room, were buoyant and capped in thick nipples. Unlike Ameelia's strawberry-blonde wavy locks, this girl had long, straight blonde hair that seemed to frame her upper half in gold.