The jungle air is perfumed with the thick scents of blooming flowers and sweet earth, soft beneath Matthew’s bare toes. Insects buzz through the air like metallic clouds, the dappled sunshine making their wings and carapaces glow. 

Matthew waves them gently from his face as he treks, leaving deep footprints in the loam. He expects to be followed: a panther or anaconda drawn to the scent of him. Sweat dampens the nape of his neck, the fur there soft and fragrant. He knows his scent is strong, the magic of Salamand kicking his pheremones into overdrive. 

The sigil burns insistently against his belly, the light visible through the fabric of his shirt. Matthew touches a handpaw to it to dim the glow. The sigil pulses insistently against his pawpads, beating in time to his heart. The energy expended by the marking exhausts him, his long tail drags tiredly in the dirt. 

He consults the hand-drawn map of the area, the local predators marked in red ink, the rivers in trailing blue. He ought to be close to both, but all he can see is the lush flora, the enormous ferns and flowers nearly the size of his small body. 

He must have taken a wrong turn somewhere, Matthew reasons. He’ll reach his destination faster if he cuts through the undergrowth. 

Matthew ducks beneath a low-hanging branch, the dangling moss tickling the back of his neck. Vines as fine as straw brush the mouse’s shoulders and the crown of his head. They itch faintly, but Matthew pays them no mind. He does not see the way they retract back into the thick knot of greenery, curling up like fiddleheads. 

Away from the path, the undergrowth is much thicker. Tall ferns tickle as high as his waist, the leaves of the trees twine together to blot out the sun. Tiny needles of light dapple the ground. 

Matthew picks his way carefully through the brush, the whisper of the wind and the insects raising gooseflesh along his arms. He ought to turn back to the path, but the burn of his sigil pushes him forward, heedless of the crawling feeling of being watched. 

The path is far behind him, his trail obscured by the waving wind. Matthew looks around, puzzled. He’s too far from the path, any sounds of the river are lost beneath the rustle of the leaves. Anxiety flutters in his belly, the heat from the sigil making him feel feverish and dizzy. 

The breeze is a cool and welcome breath across his face, sweetly scented with blooming flowers. The scent is unfamiliar but enticing, like a garden in full bloom, fat with bees and nectar. Matthew inhales deeply, turning his head towards the smell. 

He follows the scent deeper into the brush, the sweet scent luring him further from the path. Interest quickens his steps and his breath. 

Thick vines of viridian cascade over a nearby branch, forming a natural curtain. Beautiful orange flowers bloom from the gently-waving plants, the tangerine rosettes glistening faintly. 

Matthew touches his nose delicately to one to inhale its light, sweet scent, but the flower retracts abruptly in a puff of yellow pollen, coloring the mouse’s nose with bright speckles. His face tingles faintly where the dust had touched him. 

Reaching out, Matthew sweeps the curtain of vines to one side, releasing a cloud of pollen that coats the fine hairs of his ears and whiskers. The flowers retract in a series of soft pops, the vines curling away in rapid retreat. A pleasant tickle courses over his body, as if passing too close to an electric current. 

The curtain gives way to brilliant light and Matthew squints against the glare, sunlight pouring through a gap in the leaves. 

When his vision clears, he finds himself standing in a small clearing. Soft, sweet-smelling grass covers the earth, nourished by the warmth of the sun. A small, natural pool burbles from an underground spring, feeding the greenery.

At the center of the clearing stands an enormous, beautiful plant. It looks like a great trumpet, a horn tilted up to the heavens as if drinking the sun. It is shaded in yellows and pinks, the deep bell of its body enormously fat and taller than Matthew. Long tendrils spiral out from its body, the brilliant green of new growth. They wind over each other in the grass and dip into the pool, slowly overtaking the clearing. 

The scent is strongest here, rich and cloying. Matthew can taste the sweetness in the back of his throat. He can tell that the pitcher plant is its source, the effect is like putting his head into a candy counter and a florist’s shop all at once. He sniffs deeply. 

The smell draws him along as if on a string, and Matthew finds himself kneeling at the pool, overcome by a sudden rush of heat and thirst. 

He cups his handpaws in the water and brings it to his lips, gulping deeply. The liquid is ice-cold, as refreshing as snowmelt and soothing on his parched throat. He splashes some on his face, washing away the sweat from his hike.

Despite the chill of the water, Matthew’s skin feels feverish beneath: hot little prickles of sensation. The heat, perhaps, or exhaustion.

His sigil gives a deep urgent pulse and Matthew jumps, startled. The seal is hungry, its need making him dizzy. Arousal warms the pit of his stomach as Salamand’s mark grows impatient, hungry for blood and sex. He has to get moving, has to satisfy the mad god bonded to him...

A soft touch across his knuckles jolts him from his reverie. Matthew jerks his hand back in surprise to see one of the soft vines emerging from the water. The slender, dripping appendage slithers through the grass, gently winding itself around his wrist. Matthew doesn’t flinch this time, letting the vine stroke through his velvety fur. 

Small, fine hairs cover the surface of the vines, tickling Matthew’s skin where they touch. He holds as still as possible, watching the vine slink up his arm like a serpent. The feeling is strange but not altogether unpleasant: the tendril cool on his fevered skin. 

The vine climbs higher still, wrapping around his bicep and shoulder. It tickles his armpit and Matthew giggles at the unexpected touch. It squeezes around him faintly and Matthew feels a hot spike of want flash through him, imagining the touch of them over all of him, inside him...

As if sensing his arousal, the vine gives a tug, guiding Matthew up to his footpaws. The plant pulls again, leading him towards the pitcher plant. Drawn by the scent and his own curiosity, Matthew complies, being lead as easily as a babe to a serpent. 

The grass whispers softly behind him as a half-dozen other vines follow behind him, winding in his steps, kissing at the backs of his ankles. Matthew continues forward, hypnotized, until he is within an arm’s-length of the bell of the plant. 

The scent here is so strong that Matthew has to breath through his mouth, short, gasping breaths thick with want. His pupils dilate as his vision spins, the scent giving him a drugged, dizzy feeling. The vines all conjoin at the root of the plant, retracting back into it. The wide body of the pitcher plant glistens with dewy sparkles, rolling in fat, juicy drops down the swell of its shape. 

The vine around his arm releases him and Matthew reaches out with the tip of one finger, wetting his pawpad against the droplet. It’s thick and sticky and he brings it to his mouth, lapping the nectar from his skin. Sweetness floods his mouth like honey and he immediately begins salivating, wanting more. 

He’s reaching out for another taste as the whole plant quives. The bell of the plant opens slightly as a much thicker vine emerges. A crimson bud the side of Matthew’s two joined fists sprouts from the tip. 

It rises up like a cobra; the bud darting out to face the mouse. Its stamen flicks out of the bud, sticky and pale lavender in color. Gently, it touches Matthew’s mouth in a strange, soft kiss. Matthew melts into the touch as more of the sweet nectar is dripped into his mouth. 

“Please...” he whispers dizzily, opening his mouth wider. The stamen strokes along his tongue, coating his mouth with sticky juice. 

His whole body feels warm and heavy, arousal burning through him. He’s hard already, his small pink cock straining at the fabric of his pants. It’s the nectar, the soft, reasonable voice in the back of his mind whispers. 

Matthew opens his mouth wide, stretching his lips around the bud of the plant. Only the tip fits, he suckles at it needily, gulping thick drops of nectar from the folded petals. His cheeks grow sore as he tries to open his mouth wider to accommodate the bloom. The tip of the stamen slips down past his tongue, sweet and slender, making love to his throat.

The mouse moans in pleasure as the head of the plant pushes in deeper, nectar overflowing in his mouth to run down his chin. It soaks his shirt, the wet, clinging fabric tingles where it rubs against his nipples. Matthew pinches them through the fabric, the pert, red points as hot as coals. They’re so sensitive, tight and almost painfully hard. 

He rolls the points against his palms, eyes half-lidded in pleasure as the aphrodisiac absorbs into the delicate skin there. His balls hitch, ready to spill forth already. The crotch of his pants is soaked with pre. 

Matthew gives both nipples a cruel, hard twist and pleasure screams through him. His cock jerks, cum filling the front of his pants as the unexpected orgasm takes him. He feels stunned, pleasure shaking him to his core, everything prickling and pleasant. 

Unbidden, he clenches his teeth on the bud in his mouth. It flinches back as more nectar floods down the mouse’s throat, warming his chest, making its way into the heat of his stomach. 

Two of the vines shoot out, twining themselves tightly around his wrists to hold his arms away from his body. Two more give his ankles similar treatment, leaving him standing spread-eagled before the plant. Cum runs down his legs, his softening cock gives an uncertain pulse. 

The bud of the plant waves in front of his face, dipping down to nose at his stomach beneath his shirt. The sigil sparks against the petals, sealing the lust between them. 

With a mighty thrash, the plant rends the shirt from Matthew’s body. He scarcely has time to register his surprise when the head of the plant forces itself down the front of his trousers, ripping those away as well, leaving Matthew naked and sticky and shivering with need.

The head pushes up clumsily between his legs, rutting awkwardly against his balls. The residual nectar on its petals rubs against his perineum and inner thighs making them tingle hotly with pleasure. 

He aches for it, his tailhole throbbing with want. He clenches on nothing, whining with his need to be filled and fucked. 

The bud slips behind him, and Matthew groans as it rises, picking him off the ground, his slight weight pushing his groin tighter against the tingling stem. He humps at it awkwardly as it moves higher, his dick growing harder with every ineffectual buck of his hips. His own cum streaks the vine, mingling with the nectar.

The soft, leafy lid of the pitcher plant rises like a great maw as the head begins to retract back into the body, taking Matthew with it. The mouse squeezes his thighs around the vine, rubbing needily at the aphrodisiac dotting it. 

Inside the pitcher plant is hot and heady, steaming with rapidly-dripping nectar. It pools at the base, tickling his toes. The smaller vines keep his arms and legs spread, but the large, budded tendril pulls back to dip into the puddling nectar. The mouse moans at the loss, jerking in his bonds. The aphrodisiac burns through him, his nerves sparking. His cock strains, hard enough to hurt as his anus twitches with want. 

The bud emerges from the pool, nectar running off it in rivulets as it rises up between the mouse’s slender legs. The tip presses between his cheeks, the dewy petals brushing against his tailhole. 

Matthew squeals at the touch as the bud’s tip breaches him, the smooth, sticky petals tingling with nectar. He clenches down on it instinctively, the slick nectar easing the tapered bud deeper into his hole. He sighs in relief as he’s filled, the pressure on his hole deep and satisfying. The bud stretches him, slowly at first, soft, flowered tendrils creeping up his legs. They curl around his thighs, forcing his legs up and apart, their small petals tickling his cock. Tiny stamens flicker out from the blooms like tongues, licking the cum from his fur. 

The tips of the new vines twine themselves around his dick, squeezing and stroking as pre gushes from the tip. The flowers rub against the sticky glans as they lap up every drop, replacing it with their own nectar. 

It’s too much. The vines fondling his dick send little shocks of pleasure through him as the bud in his ass pumps him slowly full of nectar. Orgasm crashes over him; Matthew gives a stuttering cry, his stomach tensing as hot streaks of cum cover the questing vines. 

They descend on him hungrily, devouring his cum with their swift, clever tongues. He sags bonelessly in the vines, panting, nectar rising to his ankles. His whole body is alight with glowing pleasure, oversensitive and feverishly hot. The slender vines do not let up. He writhes in their grip, not sure if he’s trying to escape or pull them closer, closer. 

The head of the plant inside him gives a shudder as it begins to press itself upward again. Matthew whines, his toes scrabbling for purchase at the base of the plant. The vines around his wrists pull him higher, putting all of his weight down onto the bud. 

The broad plant forces him wide as it presses deeper inside of him. Matthew writhes in its grip as it stretches him to tearing. He squeals in sharp agony, throwing his head back. He’s so desperately full already, and still the vine forces itself into him, ripping him wide. Tears streak down his face, overwhelmed by sensation. 

Matthew gasps as the plant gives an excruciating lurch, the widest part of the bud breaching his hole. Nectar runs from between his legs, mixing with streaks of his own blood. 

“Please,” he whimpers helplessly, jerking in his bonds. The nectar pooling around his feet has nearly reached his knees. His footpaws are almost numb, reduced to a strange, prickling sensation as if he’s being covered in tiny, sharp kisses. The nectar splashes as he kicks for purchase. 

His twisting only succeeds in pushing the bud deeper into his hole, the thick edge of the slimy bud lodging against his prostate. He wails with the brutal ecstasy of it, the pleasure searing through him forcing him to clench tight. The want is lightning-hot in him as he squeezes as tight as he can around the fat plant. Even stretched like this, he wants more. 

He rocks his tight, torn ass against the vine, the bud rubbing circles harder and harder against his most sensitive part. His cock is so hard that precum slicks his belly, the pink flesh turned furious red with need. Nectar pumps through him, making him giddy. The aphrodisiac churns in him, turning his abused body into a vehicle for pure pleasure. 

He feels himself tear further still, the sweet pain deep in his guts as the bud wiggles and presses up, forcing itself into his intestines. His prostate ruptures with an explosion of feeling. 

Matthew’s back arches at the sensation, tail thrashing as he bows backwards. He screams high and hard, cum streaking out with such force that he swallows some, the rest covering his chest. Even after ejaculation, it remains hard, flushed the angry scarlet of searing blood. 

His whole body shudders as the rising nectar passes his quaking knees, lapping against his slender thighs. His breath shakes out in rough, shivering cries. 

The bud twists in his guts, pushing up into the twine of intestines. A fresh wave of nectar sloshes through him, hot as cum and just as sticky. His belly swells and distends from the intrusion. 

Matthew can’t pull his gaze away from his bulging stomach, watching the vine writhe through him. He feels so full, tight and heavy, the weight of the nectar forcing so much blood to his straining cock that it bobs under the weight. 

A constant, slow stream of cum dribbles from the mouse’s cock. His mouth hangs open in ecstasy as the vines swarm over his cock, curling around his thighs, pulling him farther and farther apart. The central vine surges up with a heated passion, tearing through Matthew’s guts. Nectar pours through him, the pool now up to the tops of his thighs. 

A rush of fresh vines breach the surface of the nectar, surging towards the mouse’s tailhole. It gapes around the central vine, torn wide from the bud. The vines shove into him without tenderness or consideration, stuffing themselves into the tight, wet space. They twine themselves around the central vine. 

It’s so tight, tearing and gushing nectar as the vines push urgently inside of him. The nectar rises even higher, touching the soft velvet of his buttocks. Strengthened by the liquid, the vines surge and stretch, making the nectar flow faster, the tide rising up to cover the mouse’s tailhole. 

Liquid rushes into him as if being drawn by the vines themselves. It feels like he’s being filled with the sweetest sort of acid, the sharp burn in his ass surmounted by bright, crashing pleasure. 

The nectar overtakes his dripping cock, rippling around his swollen, filled belly, the tendrils of vines making it twitch. Cum slides into the water in long, sticky ropes as Matthew whimpers and heaves through another orgasm. He should be drained dry, but he feels as though he could come forever, lightning arcing through his spine, setting his soul ablaze. 

The bud in his guts thrashes again, pressing itself up into the tight passage of his esophagus. He chokes on the weight of it in his gullet, feeling as though his chest will burst from the heat and the tightness and the pleasure. The nectar rushes over his chest, flaring across his nipples in twin daggers of ecstasy.  

He mewls in exhausted pleasure, helpless to do anything but relish the heat and tightness constricting over his entire body. He feels his cock flex weakly in the liquid enveloping him, the nectar sloshing over his shoulders and beginning to rise up his neck.

Matthew tips his head back weakly, gasping for air like a fish. His cheeks redden from the lack of oxygen. 

His throat burns as the bud forces its way through his esophagus and into his throat. The pressure is crushing, he can’t breathe. The mouse begins to thrash in earnest with desperate jerks of his spine, but the plant has full control over his body, keeping him in place. 

With one final thrust, the bud explodes out of his mouth. It ripples and shakes, finally opening into an enormous flower, larger than Matthew’s torso. The vine cuts off all oxygen just as the nectar cascades over his mouth and nose. 

He bucks hard against the nectar and the vines caressing every inch of his body, inside and out. His body feels deeply disconnected, as if he is part of the plant itself, absorbed into it. Every sensation is dripping, mindless pleasure, he feels so full, so delicious. Everything is sweet and sticky, pulling him deeper and deeper. 

His body begins to convulse, thrashing in muscular spasms as the oxygen cuts off completely, his body shaking and thrashing as he gasps and gulps thoughtlessly around the vine choking him. His vision tunnels until he can only see the bloom above him, his body numb with pleasure. 

With one last, desperate snap of his hips, Matthew goes limp, his cock spurting in one final orgasm that colors the nectar with its force, bobbing in the fluid as the aphrodisiac begins to dissolve him, one ecstatic molecule at a time.