Board Thread:What Would You Do?/@comment-35898511-20181015041558/@comment-36855838-20181016051247

The carriage passes through an odd spectrum of landscapes, from strangely snowy hills to temperate mountains and boiling valleys.

Many places are a comfortable temperature and humidity, though, and the most interesting change is the rapid shift back and forth from daylight to eclipse, which seems to be directly proportionate to how much moaning I can hear in the middle-distance.

The carriage soon nears a massive castle, and I once again slip my dagger, a gift from my late uncle Cornelius, who was a wizard, into netherspace for later use.

Soon the eclipse remains more steady, the darkness growing greater, and the trees bearing odd pinkish-white heart-shaped fruits grow more and more abundant.

In the distance, I spy a large gateway into a truly massive walled city, and as we pull up, I hear my serpentine driver speak with someone.

"State your business."

"On direct route to her magesty, the queen. Bringing her fiancé."

"Papers, please."

A leathery plop, a sound familiar to legal, passport carrying travellers.

A protracted silence, and the shuffling of documents, no doubt checking against schedules.

"Sure enough, you're scheduled for today, I'll stamp your hand and passport, head right on through, and present those stamps to the palace guards."

The whip of the reins, and the carriage lurches onward, through a small window I catch a fleeting glimpse of a sharp-fanged, muddy skinned woman whose tongue hangs out lazily.

She smiles brightly and waves when she sees me, and I then lose sight of her as we gain speed.

Streets begin to pass in a blur, but I see men kissing various reptilian women, and then a few streets later a mass of slime coating every available inch of space, and then not much further up, some kind of marketplace filled with odd produce, the fruits from before on prominent display, just before we pass the corner, I see a fruit fall and burst open, a large seed within immediately sprouting long white tendrils and burrowing into the cobblestone street.

As we near a small palace in the center of the city, walled with some odd black bricks which glow in an eerie purple, I smell an unearthly fragrance, one without compare.

A more hushed and urgent conversation with the driver, and she slithers her way to my door and opens it.

"I'm terribly sorry, please forgive me my prince, we must abandon your carriage, the queen is rather out of sorts, and we can't risk the horses."

I oblige, grabbing my suitcase, I hand it to her and carefully step down from the carriage.

We stroll through the now open gateway, and begin to progress through the gardens which surround the estate.

Around the periphery, lush plants grow densely packed, and bursting with fruits.

As we progress towards the palace, he plants grow sparse, and the few which remain are withered, all that grows lush when we finally near the Palace is the vast network of vines, as thick as tree trunks, which protrude from the walls of the manor.

The vast doorway, intricately decorated with golden filigree, has no handles, and as we stand, waiting, it opens.

When the doorway is fully opened, the sweet smell which had permeated the gardens grows overpowering, we progress towards the source,tge vines closing the doorway behind us.

Arriving,at last, in the throne room, we are greeted by the source of the roots, in the center of a large circle of marble, which itself is filled with soft, dark soil, sits an Alraune.

She wears a simple red rubber cape, and a massive flower blooms from her head, nectar dripping freely from it to collect in the lower flower, the size of a large bathtub and twice as deep, from which the roots and vines sprout, strangling and draining the other plants in the gardens.

The Alraune bows politely to me, waving off the cabby and snapping her fingers.

Almost immediately, a servant approaches, bearing a bar of solid gold, handing it to the cabby.

Curtsying almost to the floor, the lamia slithers away to her carriage as fast as her tail can carry her, with it proverbially tucked between her legs.

I prostrate myself before my bride-to-be, eliciting a hearty chortle.

Glancing up, I feel a vine grasp my ankle before I'm hoisted over her flower and dropped in, fully clothed.

In a desperate attempt to save my clothing, I rapidly disrobe and toss it out to the servant.

"Wash my husband's garments, and take my cape as well, I'll have no more visitors today, and I want my garden restocked by tomorror morning."

The servant bowed low, and quickly left with the clothes, clearly knowing that his job or life was in danger somehow.

Looking into her eyes, I realized why, behind the warm, welcoming gaze which she offered me lay a cold, irrepressible hunger.

She spread her arms, and beckoned me closer, and at that moment, I glanced about the room.

The many doors had been sealed shut, overgrown with her vines, and the many small nubs of plant flesh which dotted them had opened to reveal fragrant flowers, the scent was overpowering, and more importantly, arousing.

I wade through the pool of nectar into her open arms, and begin licking nectar off of her large breasts.

She pulks me into a deep kiss, pouring a more potent nectar down my throat, it burns slightly, not unlike whiskey or vodka, but much weaker, and leaves me thirsty for more.

Soon I find myself joined with her, riding out my first orgasm, I collapse into her arms, still quite hard and needing relief, her vines pick up the slack, and three orgasms later I'm beginning to fall unconscious.

I taste a different sweetness, and open my eyes to a thick vine, laden with fruits not unlike those at the market, eagerly gobbling the firs of them down, I easily chew through the seed, which oddly enough has the texture and toughness of steamed carrots.

Suddenly far more energetic, I hurry back into the fray, taking the queen from behind, eager to impregnate her.