The Plant Pt 02 Spores

The following is a follow-up to my story, "The Plant," and picks up about three and a half years after the end of that story. While you can read this as a standalone story, it may help to read that story first to understand the full context of what is happening here.

As always, constructive comments are always welcome and appreciated. Please see my profile for more on my policy regarding comments, feedback, etc.

As a final note, I would like to thank UltimateHomeBody, whose comment on "The Plant" gave me some food for thought.

Remember, this is a work of fiction and not a docu-drama. No plants were harmed in the writing of this story...

Our story begins with the ending of "The Plant."

...

"Okay," Theresa said, smiling as she brushed the leaf with her hand. "Thanks. But tell me, Margaret, what are those?" Margaret looked at the basket before answering.

"The future," she said. "A future without war, without poverty, hunger, disease or pestilence, a future without strife and division. That's a future worth working for, is it not?"

"Yeah, it is," Theresa said. Margaret nodded her head.

"Good. Now, get some sleep, dear," she said before leaving.

Theresa laid down and kissed the leaf on her forehead.

"I love you, Bernie," she whispered softly. The plant reached out and covered her body with several warm leaves. She smiled, then closed her eyes and went to sleep.

Margaret smiled as she left the apartment. After 200 years, the Gingravik invasion of Earth had just begun, and whether she knew it or not, that simple woman in her simple apartment would one day be hailed as the queen mother of a new race, a race made up of the best that two worlds have to offer.

...

Three and a half years later:

Margaret was pleased with the progress Theresa Hemmings had made with the plant she named Bernie. Since that day in her apartment, the young girl had become even closer to Bernie, and thanks to her tender loving care, the plant had thrived more than Margaret could have ever hoped.

The plant was much taller, fuller and more vibrant than any male Gingravik she had ever seen. Thanks to Theresa's care, his stalks had become thicker and more supple than normal and, when used together, could even hold the girl as his penis-like pustules copulated with her.

The pustules, twelve in all, had also grown and were now anywhere from eight to eleven inches when fully erect. The plant, whose real name was unpronounceable by humans, had even developed a strong central stalk upon which Theresa could hold as he coupled with her.

This, Margaret reasoned, was a good thing, as Theresa's mattress had to be replaced with something more rubberized, since the plant's dew had practically destroyed the old mattress, which was largely made of cotton. Much of her bedding had also been destroyed by the plant's dew. After much experimentation, Theresa found that silk sheets seemed to be the most resistant to Bernie's dew.

Additionally, the plant's leaves had grown larger and more adaptable, and coupled with the stronger stalks, could be used as a seat for the girl to use during their special time together. The plant had also learned how to stimulate her with his leaves as they coupled, and he often used the larger leaves to cover her at night.

Her days and nights were now spent either tending to Bernie's needs or copulating with the plant, reveling in what seemed like a near-constant state of orgasmic delight. She no longer had need for clothing in her apartment so she remained naked and the plant provided for all of her nutritional needs.

Margaret also noticed the two had been able to form a rudimentary mental link, allowing them to communicate simple ideas between each other. The Gingravik race usually communicated with each other using what humans might call telepathy, but this was the first time she knew of a Gingravik communicating with someone of a different species.

The plant had also probed and analyzed Theresa's physiology and realized that in time, the human female's body would age and deteriorate --far faster than his. This concerned the plant greatly. His race was fiercely monogamous and the idea of existing without her was sad, even abhorrent. The bond formed between Gingravik was so strong that it was not unusual for one to die shortly after his or her mate.

So he carefully adjusted his proteins and synthesized new ones to help keep the female nubile, strong and supple. As an added benefit, she would be free of the diseases that crippled so many of her fellow humans. Once he made his adjustments, the girl had not even had so much as a sniffle or a headache.

Since that day in her apartment more than three years ago, Theresa had also produced about 100 pods. Delivery had become much easier for her and it seemed that the more she produced, the more she wanted to produce. Of the 100 pods she produced, 80 of them had resulted in successful human replacements.

Theresa, of course, was oblivious to the true nature of the pods, but was so enraptured with Bernie that she simply saw them as the logical result of their mutual love. At some point, Margaret thought, she would educate Theresa, but that could wait.

While this was all good news, the Gingravik High Council had hoped for more. While they had patiently waited for someone like Theresa to come along, there was a limit to their patience. So far, they had waited 200 of Earth's years, but were anxious to see the replacement process expedited.

The Council expressed their concerns to Margaret and patiently listened to what the woman had to say.

"It is not as simple as you might understand," Margaret said, using the homebrew device she had modified to facilitate communication with the High Council, located many light years away. The device did not use a microphone and speaker combination as one might think, but rather modulated mental impressions, or thoughts, onto a frequency capable of breaking the light barrier. This allowed near-instantaneous communication between her and the Council.

Additionally, the device was equipped with special translation software to facilitate communication, since the humanoid brain was incapable of translating the Gingravik language, a rather complex combination of mental telepathy and gestures. Even Margaret's artificially-enhanced brain was not capable of processing their native language. Using the device, their messages sounded like English while hers sounded to the Council like native Gingravik.

"We have seen the moving images on the planet's network, Facilitator," the Councilor said. "We have seen many females consume their male partner's ejaculate. Are you telling us the human female does not feed on the male as we do?"

"No, Councilor," Margaret said. "For many reasons. First, there is nothing of any real nutritional value in the human male's emissions. Second, even if there was, it is not produced in sufficient quantity to provide the necessary nutrition. Third, a number of human females find the consumption of male semen distasteful."

"So you are saying that the human female does not get her nutritional requirements met from the male?" the Councilor asked. "This does not make sense. We have reviewed many of the writings on the planet's erotic sites and they indicate the males often produce copious amounts of ejaculate. Please explain."

"My research suggests that for the females who do consume the male ejaculate, it is simply part of the mating ritual," Margaret said. "Plus, the human male, on average, only produces about 1.25 to 5 of their milliliters of fluid -- a mere fraction of what our males produce. Unfortunately, most of what you see posted is often exaggerated for entertainment value."

"We will need to explore this further," the Councilor said. "The Council has made its decision. A female test volunteer is on her way to you now and should be there in a few rotations. Prepare her for contact with a male human and report back to us."

"As you wish, Councilor," Margaret said. "However, it is quite possible the female may not survive the encounter. And it is even more likely the human male will not survive."

"A necessary risk, Facilitator," the Councilor said. "You have done well so far and we know you will do everything in your power to protect her and if possible, the human male. You will not be held responsible if, as you suggest, the subjects do not survive the encounter."

"Marsook's will be done," Margaret said. "I eagerly await the female's arrival."

The connection ended, Margaret sat back and contemplated the ramifications of what the Council had said. Gingravik females were far more demanding and aggressive than the males. Not only did they take what they wanted, they would sometimes take even more than necessary, leaving their males drained almost to the point of death. She shuddered to think what a Gingravik female might do to a human male.

Worse yet, the monogamous nature of the Gingravik precluded the notion of the female later mating with a male of her own species. Once a Gingravik mated, it was for life.

She had a lot of preparation ahead of her, so she began. Making her way to the roof of the building where she lived and worked, she turned on the homing beacon and prepared the landing plate for the female's arrival.

She then began preparing the mixture she would need for the female's growth. Once she had the initial mixture prepared, she set it aside so it could properly cure.

The next task was even more difficult. She had to find a suitable male for the new arrival. She could recruit any one of the many homeless males who often occupied the sidewalk outside her shop during the night, she thought. Unfortunately, most of them were alcoholics or drug abusers and were certainly in no shape to survive the encounter. Plus, she didn't want any foreign substance like alcohol to interfere with the result of any mating. She had to look elsewhere. But where?

She put out her mental feelers for potential mates and waited patiently.

Meanwhile, the tiny female Gingravik rested inside her capsule, which was heading toward Earth at speeds which broke the light barrier many times over. Soon, the small ship, which resembled one of the many tiny rocks that entered the Earth's atmosphere every day, approached the blue planet and locked onto Margaret's homing signal.

The rock-like ship blazed through the atmosphere, giving sky-watchers below a momentary light show. It made a few turns and soon found itself descending on the small landing plate on Margaret's shop. Its small size, chemical make-up and irregular shape had successfully kept it from being spotted by the planet's defense network.

Margaret was just preparing to open her shop when she heard the 'ding' in her office. She knew what that meant, and decided to keep the shop closed so she could welcome the new arrival. Making her way to the roof, she saw the small rock-like vessel on the plate. She donned her gloves and carefully brought the ship into her workshop. She carefully touched three points on the ship and watched as the vessel opened. The female Gingravik, which at this point in her development, resembled a dandelion spore, spread herself out and awaited her human facilitator.

"Welcome to Earth," Margaret said to the female as she gingerly removed the visitor from her transport. She placed the spore on her base in the mixture she prepared, making sure the female was secure in the pot she selected.

The female responded, feeding herself on the soil Margaret prepared. The plant seemed to grow right before Margaret's eyes and mentally sent a one-word message: "More."

Margaret understood, and poured the feeding mixture into the soil around the growing plant.

"Feed yourself slowly," Margaret said mentally, the way a mother might speak to a child. "Pace yourself." The small plant seemed to understand and obeyed Margaret's order. It would not look good if she fought her facilitator, who now took on the additional role of her caretaker.

Margaret left the plant to grow and opened her shop. She still had to figure out how best to get the female in contact with a male human. So far, her mental feelers had not found anything that could even be considered suitable. And she knew that time was not on her side. Gingravik females tended to mature much faster than their male counterparts, which meant she only had a few days to lock onto a male.

The days went by and Margaret continued her search as the female grew and matured. In desperation, she reached out mentally to Theresa, hoping to find something or someone she could lure into the shop. Theresa's mind held many memories of young men who had come on to her as she developed into full womanhood.

It was there she found the answer to her problem.

Margaret made her way to a club not far from her shop and looked around at the men who spent their time going from table to table, looking for female companionship. One man looked to be a suitable partner, so Margaret focused on him that evening. He was good looking, fairly young and well-built. If any human could possibly survive the encounter, she thought, he could.

She sat back and watched him go from woman to woman. He danced with quite a few, but wasn't able to close the deal with any of them. She probed his mind to find out what she could about the man and liked what she learned. He was little more than a two-bit drug dealer who liked to troll bars looking for women. Good, she thought. The last thing she wanted was someone important whose disappearance might attract the authorities.

She saw him head out the door and followed. As she watched, the man stopped at an intersection and lit up a cigarette. He turned to her as she walked up to him.

"Hey," he said.

"Hi," she responded. "Looking for some action?" He shrugged.

"Yeah, always," he said. "Why, are you interested?" He hoped the older woman wasn't hitting on him.

"No, not me," she said. "But I have a friend who would be very interested. She's new to the area." He looked at her, his eyebrows raised.

"Really?" he asked, somewhat relieved. "You know someone or something?"

"Yeah, as a matter of fact I do," she said. "Why don't you follow me back to my shop?"

"Okay," he said, too drunk to argue. What the hell, he thought. Margaret led him back to her shop and escorted him to the roof where she had placed a futon.

"Why don't you get comfortable here and I'll be back," she said, handing him a glass of liquid. "Here, have a drink while you wait."

The man shrugged and sat down, taking the drink from her. She watched as he took a large gulp from the glass.

She went back down and picked up the pot holding the female Gingravik. The plant had matured and a single flower had opened on a central stalk. The flower resembled a human vagina and the labia-like petals had begun to open.

Margaret made a mental connection to the plant and briefed her on the human male anatomy. The plant perked up and the petals opened further, secreting several drops of liquid. Margaret further explained that a human male was upstairs waiting for her. The plant perked up even more and secreted even more droplets.

"Yes," she said in Margaret's mind.

She waited a few minutes and carried the plant to the roof. Looking, she noticed the man was out like a light. Good, she thought to herself, placing the plant next to the man.

The plant stirred, moving several large dew-laden leaves towards the man's groin. Margaret watched as the leaves settled on the man's crotch and within minutes, large gaping holes appeared in his trousers and briefs as the dew disintegrated the cloth, leaving his larger-than-average manhood exposed.

She stood back and watched as the plant turned its flower to the man and slowly moved toward his penis. Another leaf worked its way to the man, wiping itself on the man's organ. His penis suddenly became erect and the flower started its descent on the organ.

Soon, the flower had engulfed the man's entire penis and began milking it. The man began moaning as the flower worked on his organ. He began moving around, the sensation between his legs unlike anything he had ever felt. The flower responded, with stalks moving toward his arms and legs.

Soon, he had his first orgasm, shooting his semen inside the flower. The plant took it, hesitated for a moment, then began milking him back to life.

By now the man was awake and looked in shock as his cock was being milked by this strange-looking flower. His eyes wide, he tried to back away, but the plant had other ideas.

Moving faster than anything he had ever experienced, the plant's stalks wrapped themselves around his wrists and ankles. More stalks came out and went around his neck while others wrapped themselves around his waist. Then the stalks became as hard as iron and the man was unable to move. Another stalk shot out and entered his mouth, preventing him from shouting.

Unable to move, the man watched in horror as the plant's flower continued to milk his still-erect penis. He experienced another orgasm, but the plant wanted more and continued working on his organ, which was now starting to get soft. He tried to get away, but was unable to and watched as the flower kept sucking on him.

The plant, hoping for more, became more aggressive, sucking on him harder and harder. The man began to feel faint from the plant's action and soon lost consciousness.

Margaret stepped back and let the plant have her way with the man. A part of her felt bad for the man, but she knew the Council needed answers.

A half hour later, she stepped back on the roof. By now, the man looked as though he had aged fifty or sixty years. She couldn't tell if he was still alive as he wasn't moving and appeared to be either asleep or unconscious. The plant, meanwhile, was still working on his organ and the base of the stalk had grown large with the man's fluids.

Margaret stepped back and said a quick prayer to her god for the man's soul. She sipped on her tea and waited another half hour before checking on the man again.

What she saw shocked her. The man appeared to be little more than a skeleton with skin stretched tight against his bones. His eyes were wide open, but his pupils were dilated and she saw no sign of life.

She placed a finger on his neck, looking for a pulse. Finding none, she checked his wrist. Again, she found no pulse. The plant was still sucking on the man's shriveled penis but nothing was left. As she watched, the flower came up off his tiny organ and the stalks retreated from his body. The base of the flower's stalk was bloated with what it had taken from the man's body.

Making certain the man was dead, Margaret picked him up and carried him downstairs, placing his desiccated body into her incinerator. She fired the thing up and in minutes, nothing was left but ash.

She carried the plant back to her shop and reached out with her mind.

"Need... more," the plant said. "So... hungry. Help... me... please." Margaret's eyes watered and tears fell down her cheeks as she examined the plant. As she suspected, the volunteer was dying and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

"I'm so sorry," Margaret said.

"Marsook's... will... be... done," the plant weakly said in Margaret's mind. "So... tired. Sending... report. Must... eject." Margaret knew what the plant meant and took her back to the roof. She sat with the plant and soothed it with her mind. She refused to let the poor thing die alone. After all, she reasoned, the female had volunteered for this, knowing the possible consequences. If nothing else, she would be remembered as a hero among her fellow Gingravik.

About 3:30 in the morning, the plant began heaving, the flower opening wide. It "coughed," sending thousands of tiny spore-filled droplets into the air. For the next 15 minutes, the plant heaved and coughed,sending even more of the tiny droplets into the air. It finally gave one last cough. Turning brown, it wilted in its pot, its leaves shriveling. The petals fell off the flower and disintegrated in the pot. Margaret cried as it sent her one last message: "Please... burn..."