2 comments/ 58224 views/ 13 favorites Poppy Flower By: PrevertOne The meteor was from a dead planet, destroyed by an asteroid. It contained seeds from the planet's once lush jungle. The force of the impact killed the planet but sent life - bearing fragments hurtling into space; for several hundred millennia the meteor drifted. It crashed onto another world, embedding in the ice covering much of the continent. The only creatures who noticed were a herd of mammoths, which sniffed indignantly before lumbering to better grazing grounds. Twenty thousand years later, people built a suburb; two years later, a pregnant couple bought a house; ten years later, they remodelled the back yard, alienating their daughter in the process; five years later, the father bought a hammock and strung it between two cherry trees; and three years after that, 18 year old Poppy Marks decided to celebrate the end of school, by fucking her boyfriend in the hammock. Poppy Marks was a cheerleader. Poppy was hot; 34C-athletically toned 24-beautifully shaped 35 ass, hot. She wore her short blonde hair in pony tails. Her curvy body and sunny disposition, flavored with cheerleading, created a literally bouncy personality. Her one flaw was a streak of mean girl; given her social position, mean was a necessity. It served her well, allowing Poppy to claw to the top positions in her clique and cheer squad. The other advantage of being top cat was having the pick of the alpha males. In Poppy's case, the alpha was Rick Bullard (Rick "Bully", to the non-alphas), star quarterback. Her cheer mates named the couple RickyPop. RickyPop was the envy (and disgust) of every student in Cleveland High; privilege hath its rank, and Poppy had all the privileges. She had beauty, brains, lived in a good neighborhood, went to a good school. She managed to lose her virginity without running into the pitfalls; no pregnancy, no venereal disease, no stigma as a slut. The other party, a nameless geek, kept his mouth shut. She blackmailed him; Poppy discovered he slept with her because he was closeted and wanted to prove his hetero chops. She wanted to know what it was like; she wasn't impressed. A short conversation, a quiet threat, shut his mouth (later, in college, he came out and his life grew much happier). Shortly after, she met Rick, whose big cock and libido were a perfect match. That cock was foremost in Poppy's mind as she got ready. Her parents were gone for the week; it was all clear. Poppy's regard for her parents hovered between love and contempt, mostly contempt. It included an intense dislike for her father; fucking Rick in the hammock expressed that dislike. It wasn't the hammock in itself. The hammock was a symbol. It represented all the things stolen or denied to her. As a child, Poppy loved playing in the backyard. It wasn't much then; a little weedy and bushy, with two cherry trees as the only assets; but a magic place for Poppy. The bushes were perfect for hide and seek, jungle exploration, Robin Hood, scary Halloween monsters. The cherry trees were natural jungle gyms, with fruit as a treat. Her parents didn't seem too interested in the yard; preoccupied with building careers, securing their place in the neighborhood. It changed when Poppy turned ten. Her father got a major promotion and her mother came into a sizable inheritance. New money flowed into the house and her parents overdosed on status and career; changes were made. The house had to reflect the family's new tax bracket; starting with the back yard. Dad put a lot of money into it; hiring the best gardeners and landscapers to turn the yard into a mini-Eden. The yard was going to be an art piece where he could entertain his most important clients; rambunctious, plant destroying kids like Poppy didn't fit. Poppy was banished from Eden. Poppy's parents made the mistake of adding insult to the injury of ending her childhood. In their status and career obsessed minds, Poppy stopped being a daughter and became a prop. She was expected to be perfect; get the best grades, join the best clubs, be a cheerleader. Poppy quickly learned to wear perfection as a mask. She presented herself as the obedient virginal daughter; her classmates knew otherwise. Now, in the last summer before college, she was going to perform the ultimate "fuck you" by balling Rick Bullard in the hammock. "Ooohh Riiick!" she cooed musically over the phone, "Would you like to come over and talk about your football scholarship?" (Actually she hated football; this was a formality). "Sure thing babe," he answered. Rick was dim but not that dim. His snake puffed with knowledge over Poppy's real intent. Poppy showered, shampooed, body washed, spritzed perfume, dried and combed her hair. She rummaged through the closet looking for the right clothes, "Wait a second, what am I doing? I'll go nude!" Rick would get a nice surprise, finding her naked in the hammock. She made her hair in the ponytails Rick loved so much. She checked herself in the mirror; self admiration came easy; curvy, sculpted body; short cut gold muff, pink flower nestled within - "I'm so natural." She left the door unlocked with a note for Rick. The way to the yard was through the kitchen. She stepped onto the patio to view the best damn garden in the neighborhood. How to describe the Marks' garden; lush comes to mind. A mind blowing riot of color and scent, filled with almost every flower Mr. and Mrs. Marks could dream; roses, carnations, azaleas, lavender, lilies, orchids, etc. It was as close to a functioning botanical garden as the Marks could make it. The garden was set in a web like pattern, with groups of flowers interspersed along grassy paths. The whole ensemble was reminiscent of 'Alice in Wonderland'. The centerpiece was the two cherry trees, in full blossom; the only remnant of the old yard that Mr. Marks kept. The hammock strung between them seemed incongruous. Poppy snorted contemptuously; her father had invaded her magic kingdom and made it his own. The hammock was his personal throne; its very presence was a violation. Poppy walked along the paths, stopping occasionally to smell the flowers. The roses were a variety of reds, whites, and blues. Poppy resisted the temptation to smirk at her Dad's garish patriotism, "The flowers are beautiful but Daddy is such a flag waver." The carnations were classic colors: pinks, whites, and yellows. There were several species of lavender in shades of blue, violet, and purple. Poppy's mom sometimes made tea or some other concoction from them. Poppy loved the smell but hated the taste. "I must be such a sight," Poppy thought, striding nude through the garden. "Almost biblical; all I need is a serpent and better..." she shivered with rebellious delight, "No Dad holding the flaming sword." The afternoon was late, the weather, warm. She loved the feel of the soft breeze on her skin. The previous spring had a spell of warm, wet weather; gardens everywhere were bursting. "Everything is growing," Poppy thought, "It's all so beautiful." She came to the hammock and crawled in. Poppy dangled her legs for several minutes, before lying back to await her Adam. The soft breeze, the birds, the rustle of the flowers, lulled her. "I don't see anything wrong with a little nap while I wait," Poppy thought, tucking her arm behind her head. She closed her eyes, dreaming in the spring air. Rick of the Dick, was a dick; while he was getting into his car to speed to Poppy, Cindy Burns intercepted him. Cindy Burns, who lived next door, was Poppy's archenemy. She wagged her little booty and asked Rick if he could come to her house, "Just for a second," to help take down a crockpot from a high shelf. Rick, whose primary intelligence and moral center resided in his nether region, said, "Sure thing babe," and within minutes, was in Cindy's room, planting his nether region into hers. Needless to say, he was late for his appointment...very late...very, very late...very, very, very...well you get the picture. No matter, Poppy was otherwise occupied. To Be Continued... Poppy Flower Ch. 02 The plant benefited from the warm, wet spring; for twenty millennia it had bided its time. The spades of the gardeners, churned the soil and brought the pod to the surface. There were a few more years of waiting; it needed just the right amount of water. It lurked beneath the hammock, an unnoticed sprout waiting for an animal with the right body heat. A ticking bomb, triggered by the young woman above it. Poppy slept, oblivious to the growing horror. First, the plant extended its roots deep into the ground. One of the roots grew and bloated into a tuberous bulb. Above ground, the plant slid along the hammock, gaining in size and bulk; thickening and growing into an eight foot tall flower, its trunk like stem thick as the cherry trees. The plant was, curiously, phallic in appearance. An oval shaped pod topped the dark green stem; pulsing veins branched and wound along its length. It was festooned with leaves and vines, some filament thin, others thick and ropy. A thick, almost fetid stench, exuded from the plant; an overpowering smell of roses, underlayed with honey, and a subtle scent of rotting flesh. It gleamed in the afternoon sun, shiny with moisture. The plant bent over the sleeping, nubile girl. Its pod hovered close, waving back and forth, as if examining the young beauty. It bobbed up and down, with an approving nod, before opening to reveal the giant petals. The orchid like flower was four feet wide, with silky petals broad as bed sheets. The petals were deep red at the base, lightening to pink, then white as they radiated outward. At the center were six undulating stamens, phallic, like the plant; the anthers almost penile in appearance, complete with small dents at their tips. The filaments were three inches thick around. The flower's scent drifted through Poppy's nostrils, faintly registering in her subconscious. She murmured and moved her legs, shifting her body. The flower moved closer to Poppy's face. One of the stamens extended forward and began to vibrate. Pollen ejaculated from the anther, settling in the young woman's hair, and on her skin. Poppy sneezed, her eyelids fluttered. The plant increased its scent, acting as a soporific until the girl sighed into a deeper sleep. She absorbed more pollen into her lungs. Alien chemicals, endorphins; other substances began to enter the bloodstream. "Mmmm," she murmured as a pleasurable warmth spread through her body. The flower hovered over her body, spraying pollen until Poppy was covered, head to toe, in light gold. More chemicals were absorbed through the skin. Poppy's sweat dissolved the pollen, until she was stained a light amber. She dreamed of Rick. He arrived, already naked, giant erection wagging; and Poppy, wet and open. "Come on quarterback," she said spreading her pussy, "Put that football inside me." Dream Rick climbed into the hammock, rod already moist with precum. "Sure thing babe," he said as his cock slid between her lips. The flower went into its next phase; tiny, soft, filament thin vines twirled to the gold muff between her legs. They wound towards the pink flower. Her pussy, swollen, moist, and dripping, twitched as the vines delicately opened her lips, allowing more vines to penetrate. Tiny, green threads wrapped around her swollen clit, teasing and pulling. Her passage flooded, squirting excess onto the hammock, giving off a scent of its own; an open invitation, and trigger, for the flower's other vines. Poppy's mouth parted with a sultry hiss. She was trapped in a limbo, unable to wake, yet caught in a maelstrom of conflicting responses, involuntary and active. Her arm came from beneath her head; her one hand made its way to her melons and, with its opposite, stroked and squeezed. Poppy's nipples swelled into pink cones; tiny vines twined around the needle prick tits, joining the massage. "Oooo! Mmmm! Unnng!," she crooned softly. She arched her back, ran her hands across her torso, smearing the liquid gold into the skin. The hammock rocked from side to side as she slid across it, pumping her pelvis. The plant entered the next phase. A thick, moist, pulsing vine extended from the stem. It easily entered her wet passage, stretching the walls to the limit. Poppy gasped, "Aaaahh!" Her hips bucked, and she convulsed up and down. The burst of pain and pleasure brought her close to wakefulness. "R-R-Rick?" she muttered. He was big but this was too much. Her eyelids fluttered; she glimpsed something strange before a pleasant scent lured her back to sleep. The vine slithered through the passage, breaching the cervix. "Unnng," Poppy grunted, bucking her hips. In the womb, a bulge grew at the vine's tip. The vine throbbed and pumped. Poppy's breathing quickened, her belly rolled, and her chest hitched, "Hurf!...Hurf!...Hurf!" The bulge popped and thick sap burst forth. Her womb flooded and Poppy's belly began to distend. "Huff!...Huff!....Huff!" she breathed, as her belly plumped into a soft round ball. Poppy's hands slid over the shiny golden globe. In her dream, she grasped Rick's penis, pulsing and driving. "Come on! Fuck me! Fill me 'til I burst!" she cried. "Sure thing babe," he said, drilling forward. The flower waited at the young woman's pussy, its stamens at the ready. The vine pumped for several more minutes before it withdrew with a loud "Slurp!" Three of the stamens thrust their way through her open pussy, with near perfect timing. "Huuuurgh!" Poppy grunted, closed eyes creasing, teeth grinding. It was the strangest dream, as if Rick had three giant dicks instead of one. "Not that much," she was tempted to say, but the pleasure blended with the pain; she stayed quiet. Her belly plumped further as the stamens popped through the cervix, into her womb. The anthers burst, spraying pollen into the genetic brew. Poppy's post-coital, "sigh!" settled into a deep breath. She settled next to dream Rick, luxuriating in the aftermath of the greatest sex ever. "God, I'm going to miss him," she thought. Rick's continued erection and presence inside her was a curiosity. "I'm going to have to do something about that," she thought, "But I have to rest up first." The plant raised its flower; a powdery wisp of pollen puffed, briefly, from one of the remaining stamens. The plant kept the three stamens inside Poppy, to prevent the sap from escaping. The pollen's multifaceted properties did their work well, making Poppy fertile and open to implantation. The pollen swirled around the brew; cells coalesced to form a large seed. The seed grew, nurtured within the womb. Poppy's belly grew watermelon round; two hours passed before the plant sensed she was ready. It withdrew the stamens. The slurping withdrawal was followed by a gush of fluid. The hammock filled, bathing Poppy in sap, combined with her own juices. The fluid leaked to the ground. Poppy's stomach convulsed. Her womb pushed the seed into the passage. Poppy huffed and grunted, she was confused, Rick never had difficulty pulling out before, "It's like I'm in labor." "Huff!...Huff!...Huff!...Unng!" Her pussy expanded; were Poppy awake she would have felt split in two. The strange birthing registered in her semi comatose state. "Uuuurrrnng!" she groaned. Her pussy opened wide; with a "pop!" the coconut sized seed jumped out to land between her legs. Poppy's belly deflated as the remaining fluid drained out. It snapped back to its former athletic flatness. She sighed, oblivious to her unnatural pregnancy and birth. The plant dipped its flower. She was ready for the final phase. To Be Continued... Poppy Flower: Conclusion A large, broad leaf looped up and over the sleeping cheerleader; scooping behind her head, down her back, to her buttocks; vines wrapped around Poppy's feet and ankles, binding them together. The stamens parted to reveal the flower's pistil; a fat, bloated bulb with a moisture dripping hole at its tip. The hole expanded into a gaping maw, wet and red; undulating cilia, curved inward, lining the moist sides. The oblivious blonde was scooped up and shovelled into the flower. "Mmmm, hee hee! Stop it Rick, you're tickling me," she giggled. The flower slurped and gulped as Poppy was immersed. The fine, sticky, sap covered cilia flowed over her feet, ankles and legs, swallowing her into the plant. Poppy smiled: Dream Rick had rolled on top of her. He was warm and sweaty, and frictioned against Poppy in an arousing rub. The flower slurped to her hips, buttocks and cunt. The cilia moved across her swollen clit. "Mmmm. Aaahh!" Poppy purred. She came, squirting her juices down the tunnel. "Shluuurrrp!! Gulp!! Shluuurrp!!" went the plant. Poppy moved her hips back and forth, inadvertently helping the plant swallow her. "Aaaahh!" she cried ecstatically. The flower gulped to her navel, belly, and breasts. She moved and waved and undulated; torso rolling, breasts heaving, "Huff!...Huff!...Huff!...Huff!" The cilia brushed against her sensitive melons, tickled her pointy nipples. "Uhnn! Aaahh!" she gasped. The flower covered the teen, slurping until only her arms and ponytailed head remained. There was a moment's pause. Then Poppy exhaled an orgasmic, "Aaaahh!" as, with one final "Shluurrrp!", the plant swallowed the beautiful young cheerleader, leaving the giant seed on the hammock. That was the end of Poppy Marks...or so it would seem, if one worked on certain assumptions, the chief being that giant alien carnivorous plants perform the same way as terrestrial carnivorous plants; not quite, in this case. The species to which the plant belonged had evolved a unique way to survive. Animals swallowed by new grown plants were the "lucky" ones. They were deposited in deep underground chambers and kept suspended in thick liquid amber. A symbiotic relationship was established; roots were inserted in the mouth and erogenous areas; animals were fed protein to keep them alive; simultaneously, they were kept in a state of constant sexual stimulation. The cum from their frequent orgasms supplied the plants with nutrients. This process helped the plants in lean years when prey was scarce. An animal could be preserved for decades, even centuries in this fashion. Ancient alien botanists, who visited the planet, were fascinated to find perfectly preserved animals, hardened in amber and still alive; extinct elsewhere. The amber became, and remains, a highly valuable, near priceless commodity in the galactic community. Meanwhile, extra protein was acquired through the classic method of capture, swallow, and digest; but the plants needed lures. The pod in the hammock lay quiet. Then a crack appeared; the crack widened, the pod split. The creature revealed was pale like a grub, but that rapidly changed. It grew; its shape assumed a female form; hair and nails formed; skin changed from larva pale to human flesh tone. In minutes, the creature assumed the exact shape and form of a certain ex-cheerleader, now enjoying a new existence. It slept, its new duties instinctively imprinted in its brain. Rick walked into the garden; actually he staggered - Cindy had shagged him bowlegged. Rick didn't know if he was up for Poppy but he had to try, "If Poppy finds out about Cindy...." At least Rick had the sense to shower first. He'd read the note; the writing was erotically charged, his grin, guilt tinged. Rick's dick didn't as much as stir, courtesy of Cindy. She had a wide Cheshire grin when he left her (the implied satisfaction was not entirely sexual). Rick had some gymnastics to perform; fucking two hot, horny babes in one day was no mean feat. The pie was waiting between the cherry trees. He blinked; there was a new tree near the hammock. "That doesn't look right." Rick dismissed it. "Mr. Marks has some weird tastes." The girl on the hammock was his prize. She was sleeping on her back, short golden hair fanned out; not in ponytails but no matter. Rick's pump plumped, "I've got some in me after all." He stripped and walked to the hammock. She looked almost angelic. She had on perfume, a flowery, honeyed scent. Rick stroked her face, then her breast. The nipple hardened and she gasped awake. She looked at Rick, uncomprehending. "Hey Pops. You called, I came. You want some of this?" he asked, stroking his shaft. She looked at it, smiled, and held out her arms. Rick grinned, "Sure thing, babe " Epilogue Poppy woke; she blinked her eyes, trying to focus. "Where am I?" she thought foggily. She was curled up; it was dark and warm. She felt as if she were floating in a womb. Poppy tried to struggle but her limbs wouldn't obey. There was something soft and sweet in her mouth. There were things buried in her cunt and ass, pumping, thrusting. "Rick? What? Where...?" she murmured. She started to panic. Her mouth filled with a thick, syrupy fluid. It tasted sweet, like honey. Her panic disappeared, replaced by a soft euphoria. She moved her mouth over the object, and began to suck and gulp. The roots in her ass and cunt pumped. Poppy came....and came....and came.... The End