Triple Treat
By: Magog

A light blue nineteen sixties old Volkswagen drove down the winding road in British Columbia one summer night. Its three male inhabitants on their way home to Vancouver from a party somewhere just south of Whistler.

The driver was Jim, six foot two with jet black hair cut like a marine. He had a strong lantern jaw, eagle sharp hazel eyes, a thick neck, broad shoulders and a very smooth masculine voice.

Born and raised in Canada.

Mateo sat in the front passenger seat. He was Argentine, six foot three, thin and good looking with dark hair like his friend’s but thicker and fuller. He had a long aristocratic nose and a thick Spanish accent.

Behind them in the rear was Sh’Ram, olive-skinned, with dark thick black hair and eyebrows he cut to prevent having a unibrow. He had dark brown eyes and very handsome features. He was five foot six, and Iranian born.

All three were in their early twenties.

They’d had a bit to drink and were perhaps driving a bit too fast on the lonely highway that night.

“Fucking awesome music at the party,” Said Mateo, tapping Jim on his shoulder. “Wasn’t it?”

The young men yelled at the top of their lungs, all sporting broad grins on their faces.

“Yeah,” said Sh’Ram, leaning back in the chair, resting his head in the palms of his hands.

“It sure was,” said Jim. He flashed a pretty but undeniably wicked grin smile. He had good teeth. The best three years of orthodontia money could buy. He chuckled.

“What was that all about?” asked Sh’Ram.

He got in between the two from the back seat. “I know that evil laugh. What’s up?”

Mateo grinned, running a hand through his hair as he cut a look at Jim.

“Wanna tell him?”

“Tell me what?” Sh’Ram asked like a little boy anxious to get in on the prank.

“He got laid tonight,” Mateo said, nudging Jim with a playful punch to the shoulder.

“No shit??”

“Sure did,” said Jim, beaming, his strong chin held higher as he steered the little beetle through the beginnings of a fog.

Sh’Ram’s eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute,” he said. “The party was basically a sausage fest. There were only about seven chicks there, and they were all with their (he made quote marks with his hands) ‘boyfriends.’ You guys aren’t B-S-ing me, are you?”

Jim smiled broadly. “Nope. And you’re never going to guess who it was,” he said, still focusing his eyes on the road.

The road was descending into a valley and the mist was getting thicker.

“Don’t make me guess,” Sh’Ram said. “It’s bad enough you both kept me out of the loop this long.”

“Angie,” Mateo said.

Sh’Ram’s eye widened. He covered his mouth with one hand in shock.

“The girlfriend of the guy who threw the party?”

He clapped and threw himself back against the rear seat, laughing hysterically.

“No way.”

“Yes, he did,” said Mateo, watching Jim center his attention on the road ahead. By then the mist had become pretty much pea soup.

“How did he get Angie in bed?”

Mateo held up a small light gray plastic container that resembled a film holder.

“With these,” he said, rattling the contents around in the tiny case.

“You used the rooffies on her?”

“He sure did.”

Sh’Ram howled with laughter.

“Yeah,” said Jim, more serious than he wanted to be at the moment. “I just dropped two in her drink, waited until she excused herself to go upstairs and followed her up to her room. The rest was history.”

“Why didn’t you get any of her, Mateo?” Sh’Ram asked.

Mateo focused his attention on the road. He was beginning to realize what Jim was trying to drive through.

“Because,” he answered. “Someone had to keep the host busy with engaging sports talk while Jiminy here gave the mostess to the hostess.”

“Alright,” said Sh’Ram, impressed.

Jim smirked. “And I didn’t even use a condom.”

Sh’Ram laughed.

The car bounced and shuddered, sending a belt-less Sh’Ram into the car ceiling and back down hard into the seat.

Jim cursed.

“What was that?” Sh’Ram yelled.

“I don’t know,” said Jim, turning off the ignition. “I think I ran over something.”

He got out of the car. The fog was apparently starting to clear up.

“Oh man,” he said.

“What’s up?” said Mateo, opening his door and stepping out into the cool night.

Jim stared in the direction they’d come from.

“I’m not even on the road.”

Illuminated by the car tail lights, deep tracks up a hill were pressed in a slick of thick mud and obviously disturbed tall grass leading to a log Jim had driven over.

“You idiot,” Mateo said.

“Hey, pull the front seat, so I can get out,” Sh’Ram said.

Mateo complied quickly, and Sh’Ram, noticeably shorter than his companions, stepped out of the car.

“Dude,” Mateo said, “look at that bump on your head.”

Mateo lightly tapped an area just below Sh’Ram’s strict jet-black hair line with his index finger.

Sh’Ram flinched. “Ouch.”

He placed his own hand on the sore area and felt a small swell above his right eye.

“Aw, man,” he groaned.

“Hey, guys,” called Jim. “We’re in trouble.”

He was stooping down near the driver’s side front wheel. Mateo walked with Sh’Ram-still inspecting the bruise on his forehead- over to where he was.

The wheel was leaning in against the inside of the slightly dented vehicle, strongly suggesting that the axel had been broken.

“We’re not driving anywhere in this tonight,” Mateo said.

Jim stood up. “Nope, not in this piece of shit.”

He huffed angrily as he reached into the front pocket of his black dress pants and pulled out small silver phone. He placed it to his ear, looked at it and rolled his eyes.

“No signal,” he said.

“None on mine,” Mateo said looking at his small black model cellular.

“Mine either,” said, Sh’Ram, staring into the tiny display panel of what looked more like a Personal Data Assistant than a cell phone.

“Van is about 80 km away.” He said, placing the device in his back pocket. “What are we going to do now?”

Her name was Salem, very attractive, with faint hints that she was a slightly older woman from the nearly imperceptible lines on her face.

She’d seen the light blue nineteen-sixty bug miss the curve and drive off the road into the woods. She pulled her black Jeep Cherokee to the spot where they’d veered off, turned on her hazard lights, and grabbed a flashlight from her glove compartment.

Salem got out of the vehicle and peered down the embankment. Every thing was silent except for the sound of her blinking hazards and the alerting beep that her key was still in the ignition coming from the open door. She ignored both of them and focused on the men she saw below.

All were dark haired, two of them taller than average and one shorter than such.

He looked Middle Eastern, quite cute in a bad boy, mischievous kind of way, the quintessential handsome little troublemaker, the bad kid in the class but because he was cute, also the teacher’s pet.

He was wearing a silken brown shirt that had beige paisleys designs like wall paper all over it. He was somewhat stocky, showing some signs of a consistent work out routine, making his legs appear strong in his blue jeans.

Salem could see that his shoes were black Giorgio Brutinis.

The one close to him looked sly, slick, and untrustworthy, a sexy-as-hell wise guy who sported a white long sleeved party shirt he let hang outside of his gray dress pants.

He wore dark square toe designed shoes.

The third young man was undoubtedly the best looking of the trio, dripping with raw masculinity, he didn’t have to affect. With noticeably broad shoulders, thick neck and big arms in his tight black long sleeved crew collared shirt, along with his military hair cut and sullen expression, he was the quintessential brooding giant.

There was definitely something dark and dangerous about him.

Salem’s thick red lips curved into a slightly crooked smile. She saw nothing she couldn’t handle.

“Is everything okay?” She called down the steep hill, at first waving her flashlight to attract their attention.

She decided to walk down to them, using the flashlight to guide her steps.

Jim was the first to see her, catching the flickering in the corner of his hawkish eyes, which locked on her like a bird of prey acknowledging the sight of a fish.

He studied her thin, petite frame as she got closer. She was wearing a pink sweater, probably cashmere, and tight brown leather pants that flared at the bottoms over thick black heels and pointy shoes with a fat gold buckle.

“Wow,” he said.

Mateo and Sh’Ram turned, saying pretty much the same thing when they saw her.

“Is everyone okay?” they all heard.

Jim cleared his voice. “Yeah, I think so,” he said. “We’re okay.”

She reached them, walking without fear past the back of the car up to Jim, looking up into his eyes.

“I saw your lights veer off the road, decided to pull over and see if you were…” She caught sight of Sh’Ram. “Oh,” she said, walking quickly over to him and gently touching his bruise. “You’ve been wounded.”

Mateo and Jim exchanged that look buddies do when a hot woman appears in their midst.

Salem, about the same height as the young man, caressed Sh’Ram’s upper arm consolingly. “Someone is going to need to make that all better.”

Sh’Ram could feel his pants tighten, his cock slowly coming to life behind his jeans. He coughed and choked back a smile.

Salem crouched down, apparently unaware of the attention focusing on her ass, and looked at the dislocated wheel. “You boys aren’t going anywhere in this tonight. You’re definitely going to need a tow truck.”

“Yeah, tell us about it,” said Jim. “Our cell phones aren’t working either.”

Salem stood up with one hand on her hips and the flashlight on the wheel, eyeing the damage.

She turned and walked back over to Jim, looking straight up into his eyes.

“Yeah, cells don’t work in this area. But I do have a land line…back at my cottage a few miles north of here. You are more than welcome to come back to my place.”

She shifted her gaze, sultry and suggestive, to Mateo. Her soft green eyes appeared almost luminescent from the glow of her flashlight.

“You can use my home phone to call for roadside assistance.”

She turned to face Sh’Ram.

“I’ll apply some soothing first aid to your wounds.”

She faced Jim again. “And we all,” she stressed, “could have a few drinks until your help arrives. How does that sound?” she asked.

Jim smiled. Despite his contempt for people, women in general, he came across as being extremely charming.

“Yeah, we could do that,” he answered. “That sounds good.” His voice was deep and smooth, like the two of them were already making love somewhere.

Salem smirked.

“Good,” she said, already making her way back up the steep hill. “Well, grab what you need and let’s go. Let’s not waste our night down here.”

The young men nudged each other like excited but subdued school boys not wanting the teacher to see that they were up to something.

“Can you believe this?” said Mateo.

“She is fucking hot too,” added Sh’Ram.

“I don’t know about you guys,” said Jim, watching her reach the top of the hill, “but my cock is throbbing.”

He cut a menacing look at Mateo. “Get out those rooffies,” he whispered.

The guys slapped each other high five as Mateo rattled the little container of pills.

Their cocks were already hard as diamonds as their little diabolical minds began working overtime.

When they’d gotten to the dark black Jeep Cherokee, the woman formally introduced herself.

The boys joined her in the truck, Mateo and Sh’Ram sitting in the back, Jim taking his rightful place in the front. The interior was a plush light brown.

“Salem is a nice name,” Mateo said.

“Thank you,” the woman replied.

Discreetly, she placed a hand on Jim’s bulging groin. “It means ‘Peace,’” she said with a smirk as she stepped on the gas.

Jim grinned as they drove off.

After a few short minutes, the jeep was driving up a gravel road towards an impressive, but dimly lit house.

“This is a cottage?” said Jim, leaning forward to get a better view in the bouncing vehicle. “What do you do for a living?”

“I’m a writer.”

“A very successful writer apparently,” Mateo whispered.

A white garage door opened as the vehicle approached, closing behind it.

Salem turned off the ignition.

“Okay,” she smiled across at Jim, and then at the other two behind her through the rear view mirror, “here we are.”

When the garage door finished closing a soft light illuminated the entire room.

Stepping out of the car the young men noticed a row of cars, and that the door they’d entered was only one of ten.

Jim rubbed his hands, “Holee Shit.” He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

Salem beamed. She walked past Mateo, brushing against him sensually.

“Yes, they really are quite the collection, aren’t they?” She said. “There’ll be plenty of time to look at them later. You men go in the house through that door over there on the other side of the Cherokee. I’ve got to attend to a few things out here first. Then there’ll be eating, and drinking.”

She pointed to a nice wooden door adjacent to where she’d just parked.

Jim led the way.

“Oh,” Salem added, “no shoes or socks in the house, only bare feet past that door. Take them off out here and leave them on that mat.”

Jim and Mateo shrugged while Sh’Ram was already kicking off his shoes and socks.

“Sure, no prob,” Mateo said with a fake grin.

He whispered to Jim, “Rooffie this cunt and we not only get laid, we get a fucking car for the each of us.”

“I’m way ahead of you,” Jim whispered back as he pulled off his black socks.

Sh’Ram nodded. “I’m down,” he said.

Salem watched them remove their footwear.

She noticed Sh’Ram had nice olive-skinned, hairy feet. He could have done a better job with his toenail cutters, but he, overall, he had some pretty nice ones, like a sexy Hobbit.

Mateo had strong gripping toes, his pinky toe well-developed with a full nail, unlike that of most people’s.

Jim had exquisite feet of long toes with little tuffs of hair on them, groomed nails, smooth heels, and strong arches.

“Uhm, go ahead through that door gentlemen. There will be another door at the end of the hallway which will lead to my living room. Go on in, and make yourselves comfortable.”

Sh’Ram walked in front of Jim and opened the door. He wanted to get on with the festivities.

The three men entered a dimly lit corridor, with light coming from an unknown source on the floor.

“Smells like fertilizer in here,” Jim said.

Mateo reached the second door first. He grabbed the knob and turned it.

The walls to the corridor, and the door fell way as the ceiling ascended up and out of sight.

Stunned the men looked around. They were not in a living room. It felt like they were in some dark stadium with light coming only from the door at the garage.

“What the…?” Jim said. To him it looked like they were in a large green room. “What is this, a fucking green house?”

“Whoa,” said Sh’Ram. “Something’s got my ankle!”

Mateo tried to move. “Shit, mine too!”

The two men were snatched feet up a few meters, dangling upside down above the floor.

Mateo screamed, “What the fuck is going on?”

“I don’t know,” Sh’Ram said, reaching out towards Jim. “Help us, man!”

Jim turned without a second thought and bolted back towards the first door they’d walked through. He made it back in only enough time to see Salem slam it in his face.

As he pounded on it with his fist, he realized quickly that the door had only looked wood. His hands were hurting themselves against steel.

“Open this fucking door! Let me the fuck out of here!”

His hands unable to take anymore, he stopped pounding and began panting with exhausted and painful frustration.

He turned to see Mateo and Sh’Ram still hanging, being held by something he was too far away to see.

Sh’Ram reached for the ground, stretched and ached for it, but it was too far away.

His mind raced.

Where were they? What just happened?

He looked upward towards his feet, tucking his head to his chest as he squinted to get a better look at what was holding him up, the hem of his shirt in his face and in his eyes, blocking his view, revealing a hairy line from his belt buckle to his navel.

Something was wrapped around each ankle, and they looked like vines, the kind you’d see in a jungle, the kind Tarzan swung from. And they tightened like two boa constrictors, not letting go.

His toes flexed as he strained his legs, unable to move them.

Then he felt something wrap around each wrist.

He looked back to the ground.

Two more vines had coiled themselves around his wrists and were now holding his hands in place.

Suddenly, his ankles were let go.

He yelled as he was whipped around to hanging from his arms.

He looked like some prisoner in a Tukish dungeon, kicking in vain for some invisible foot hold in the air, swinging helplessly.

Mateo fared no better. He squirmed and tried to free his feet. He could not believe Jim had just run away like that, leaving him and Sh’Ram there.

His toes bent towards the soles of his feet as he tried to kick his way down. His brown eyes wide, he was scared shitless and angry as hell.

Jim stayed pressed against the locked door, trembling. Sweat was on his forehead like beads on a steam room wall. He looked over from one side of the room to the other for another door or a window, but all he could make out, as his eyes began adjusting to the murk, were big bushes and large green leaves. If he hadn’t known that they’d all walked into a house, he would have sworn they were on the outskirts of some jungle.

Sh’Ram looked up at his bound wrists, his head held taut between his arms. How could a vine move like a snake, he wondered? What was going on, he kept asking himself.

Then he felt something going up each pant leg, it felt as moist and as cool as what was holding him up above, like two snakes sliding up each leg.

He looked down. From the floor, inching up were dark green vines. He could get a better look at them now and each vine looked like it was made up of about ten smaller ones, all bound together and responding as one…thing…a thing inching up his legs under his trousers.

“Aiee!” He shouted. “Aiee! Get the fuck off of me-e-e-e.”

He kicked frantically, but the weight and strength of the invaders and the lack of clearance in his pants made his movement extremely limited.

Helpless, he closed his eyes and started praying in Arabic.

“Sh’Ram,” yelled Mateo, still upside down, and facing in a direction where he couldn’t see his friend. “What’s going on?”

Sh’Ram couldn’t stop praying. He was panic-stricken as he felt the tips of the vine snake up his thighs under his boxer shorts.

Mateo tilted his head and saw Jim still cowering against the door. “Jim, help us, man! Do-o-o something!!”

Jim shook his head, neurotic and half-crazed with fear. “NO,” he yelled back. “NO, I’m not going anywhere near there.”

He turned and started pounding on the door again. “Let me out of here, you fucking psycho cunt! Open this God damned door!”

By then the vines had worked their way up to the shirt collar of Sh’Ram’s brown silk paisley designed shirt.

He closed his eyes, tears streaming down the sides of his cheeks, he muttered incoherently.

With a quick, strong heave, the vines snatched away from each side him, ripping his clothes in half, and off, leaving him naked, still hanging by his wrists, shouting to Allah for forgiveness.

He was tilting his head back, imploring heavenward for salvation when he felt something tickling down near his testicles.

He stopped his chants, and slowly, fearful of what he might see, lowered his tear-stained gaze to get a look at what it was.

Sh’Ram’s ass and pelvis area were noticeably lighter than the rest of his tanned body.

Down by his flaccid uncut cock, gently following the thick love trail up to his navel, affectionately rubbing, and teasing his soft member was a tiny pink petal flower at the tip of a single green vine not working in a compacted group of vines like the others. Like a swan’s head it moved up and down.

Sh’Ram tensed his stomach and tried poked his hips away from the thing, trying not to let it touch him.

The vine moved the flower a few feet away in front as the petals opened slowly and spread, resembling a cobra about to strike.

Sh’Ram panted, his heart pounding so hard, he could feel it in his throat. Where were Jim and Sh’Ram, why weren’t they helping him?

The terrified young man was hanging in a direction where he could see no one.

Mateo was slowly curving himself upward to reach his feet. He couldn’t bear being upside down any longer or having his long white dress shirt hanging in face. If he could just reach his calves he could get to his ankles and maybe untie what he thought were ropes, or at least get some leverage to escape.

As he angled himself upward he was glad he’d maintained a strong abdominal workout over the years.

He found himself wonderng why the smell of dirt and fertilizer was so strong.

He heard Sh’Ram scream. Not able to see him he called out.

“Sh’Ram, what’s wrong?”

Sh’Ram stared down at his groin, now dripping with a bright green gel oozing down all over his dropping testicles and his limp manhood, dripping off his sausage foreskin.

“The flower, it squirted my dick with something!!”

“Flower? What Flower???”

“The fucking pink flower man.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“It sprayed me!”

Giving up on determining just what his friend meant by flower, Mateo pressed on with his climb. He’d gotten his hands to the backs of his knees and his shirt out of most of his face.

“What….did...it…spray…you with??” He asked through gritted teeth.

Sh’Ram’s dark brown eyes were wide as saucers.

“I don’t know…but…but…!”

He watched as his cock began to move, to grow and become erect, and like a flower slowly protrude the soft pink fleshy head from inside its sheath.

“Oh,” he shuddered.

His head lobbed backwards on his shoulders as his eyes rolled up into his head, his mouth giving a reluctant grin.

“Oh, man,” that feels good.

Jim had been hiding his face behind his hands, curled up in a ball still by the door. He could barely see Sh’Ram or Mateo as anything more than shadows in the distance. When he heard Sh’Ram groan with pleasure he stared in his direction from behind his fingers.

Mateo had reached his ankles. His shirt was completely out of his sweaty face now. He could feel the blood rushing away from his head and the throbbing between his ears subsiding.

His eyes were just starting to focus when he felt his wrists become clamped down tight against his ankles.

“Ah, shit.” He yelled. “No.”

Sh’Ram felt a warmth and an incredible surge in his six inch cock he’d rarely felt before. Whatever that flower had spat on it had made it throb like an electric transformer.

His leg flushed against each other as he, hanging, thrusted softly into some imaginary hole.

In the span of seconds he had gone from experiencing unadulterated horror to being desperately horny.

The pink flower moved in, closing its bright petals on Sh’Ram’s gel-covered rod.

Sh’Ram yelled. “Oh, God. That feels so...s-s-s-s-o-o-o gooood.”

Mateo still struggling with his new situation hollered over his shoulder, “What the fuck is going on over there, Sh’Ram?”

Over Sh’Ram’s thrusting cock, the flower moved back and forward and back, repeating the movement over and over again.

Sh’Ram’s high calves tightened. His toes pulled up, flexing and spreading out.

“Don’t fight it, guys. Don’t fight it.” He called out with his head tilted back in rapture. “This is the best feeling ever…oh God, this is so good.”

He whispered, “Thank you, Allah, most merciful one,” as the flower took him to convulsive new heights, pulling, scraping softly, pushing forcefully, stimulating Sh’Ram’s lubricated foreskin.

Mateo didn’t know what to think. He’d only heard Sh’Ram that fulfilled on the drug ecstasy. If his little Iranian friend was feeling that good, then maybe they all weren’t in danger after all.

Still, him being Catholic, he began praying, in Spanish, promising to be a better person if he got out of their alive.

Then he saw two long snaky things wiggling their way down towards him from a ceiling that was too high in the distance to see.

He stopped mid psalm and tensed as the green invaders went past his bound feet, past his hairy calves, and into each pants leg.

He struggled when the wriggling boughs squirmed under his boxer shorts, brushed against his butt cheeks, past his belt, lower back, up his shirt and back upward out of each sleeve.

Before he had time to get any bearing, the vines had snatched in opposite directions, ripping his clothes off and away from him, leaving the bewildered exposed Argentine looking like a hanging long pig in a butcher shop.

“Madre de Dios, Maria,” he cried, heaving with sobs.

Jim could still hear Sh’Ram groaning with pleasure. He’d watched enough porn videos to know the slurping sounds of a good blowjob when he heard one.

But what was doing it?

He could barely make out Sh’Ram’s pale ass tensing and heaving but he couldn’t see at all in the distance what was sucking him off.

When he heard Mateo praying in Spanish, obviously terrified over there in the gloomy expanse away, Jim started to feel the pangs of fear rise again.

But oh, Sh’Ram was sounding like he was in heaven getting sucked off by angels.

The little Iranian man felt like he was going to shoot, but the flower would stop just at the right moment, enough to extract the precum, but ceasing just short of the mother load.

Sh’Ram’s toes curled and tensed like he was practicing for ballet. He felt so delicious….so wanted. He was glad the sucking plant wasn’t rushing him to orgasm. He wanted all of this to go on for as long as possible.

He could hang up there getting sucked for ever.

Mateo let the back of his head relax toward the floor as he realized the helplessness of his position. He knew he must have looked like a human swing hanging by his hands and feet like he did.

The image of the dead pig on a stick being carried to a luau came back to his mind.

He felt something…something at his asshole. Something was nudging at it, playing around the area where his sack met the anus.

He wiggled and squirmed, trying to shake it or scare it away, reflexively kicking his legs, but he was not even getting the vines to swing. It was as if they’d become as rigid as stone. He was as flexible as an insect trapped in amber.

Mateo felt it snaking down at the base of his scrotum sack. He lifted his head. A vine with a soft dark blue plant bulb, about the size of a ping pong ball at its tip, rose and bobbed above his limp pink penis.

Mateo had shaved his pubes often, the small hairs were slowly returning on the miniature clear-cut forest of black curly sprouts.

The imposing bulb moved to and fro, on the bowing vine like a sea horse in some little aquatic dance.

Mateo strained to keep his head up between his over stretched arms, staring wildly at the object bobbing between his adductors.

He thought about trying to crush it with his inner thighs but really didn’t think that was such a good idea, considering he couldn’t defend himself if the thing got angry or something, what ever in God’s name it was.

The bulb opened slightly, like a blooming blue tulip or some cobalt rose.

A lime green tendril rolled out and back into its small round hole like the tongue of a snake.

The vine pulled it down out of Mateo’s sight, descending the bulb behind the nervous man's flaccid cock and extremely large balls.

The Latino strained to keep his head up. He couldn’t feel the vine anymore near his hole. Confident it had gone, he gave a sigh of relleif and let his head relax backwards to rest his overly strained neck and throat.

His eyes widened as pain shot through him like a jolt of electricity.

His screams came out at a much higher pitch than his deep voice would have normally generated.

Jim was curled up in a ball against the door. “Please, Please, let me out of here, God,” he whispered.

Sh’Ram, oh so comfortable, let the pink flower go to town on him without offering any resistance. His hairy ass dimpling, tightening and releasing with each enthusiastic thrust.

Mateo was beside himself. He could feel the large object deep inside of him pushing in and pulling out like a jack hammer.

The young man felt like he was going to shit. He’d never felt anything sticking in his ass before.

Then…the object reached the second hole.

Mateo felt they could hear his screams all the way to Vancouver.

The pain was so deep that he felt like he had to urinate, or that he could actually puke from his nose.

His stomach arched towards the ceiling as he tried to force the alien object out of him, his hands and feet straining in vain against the vine.

It was moving in and out of him now. Mateo could feel the girth of the ping pong ball sized bulb invade and retreat, pushing in and pulling back with unyielding…unsympathetic force.

After a few moments, he could only accept it. After a few moments the acute pain had transformed into a deadened numbness.

Mateo gritted his teeth. “It’s raping me,” he sobbed. “Oh god. Oh GOD!”

Then, he felt a cold, extremely cold, liquid flowing into his hole, like someone was squeezing a tube of Ben-Gay up his sphincter.

“Oh…god,” he groaned, his voice back to his baritone. “O-o-o-oh, G-o-o-o-d.”

He began panting madly, alarmed at how he was starting to feel.

“No, this can’t be…”

He lifted his head and groaned.

A flower almost identical to the one blowing Sh’Ram found a place on Mateo’s already hardening cock.

A splash of the petal’s gel and a gripping of Mateo’s seven inch cut piece soon sent the Argentine into thrusting euphoria.

He yelled, “O-o-o-h, Jim! Man…this is so-o-o-o good, man. You’ve got to…(ooooooh)…get…over….here.”

Jim stood slowly from his cowering spot against the door. Hearing Sh’Ram groan was one thing, he could bust a nut watching an ABC After School Special, but Mateo?

Jim had never heard Mateo cry out in pleasure like that…ever.

His friends were having the time of their lives over there and he was hiding and crying like a little frightened girl.

He wiped his eyes and walked slowly towards them, getting a clearer picture of what was happening.

Sh’Ram was getting his cocked sucked…well.

Mateo, his bet friend, was getting butt fucked…and loving it???

Jim stared wide-eyed at the spectacle, unable to truly believe it. When he saw a large grin spread across Mateo’s face, Jim knew his friend had reached a point of no return.

Mateo would no longer be straight. He'd been turned out. After that experience pussy would never be enough for him ever again for the rest of his life.

“Don’t fight it, Jim,” he called out. “Let it happen, man.”

Jim, felt his cock hardening fast. He looked at Sh’Ram's hairy little body, whose eyes were rolling up in the back in his head.

He looked at Mateo again, who was moving like a happy fish on a hook, or a whore busy with a sailor on shore leave, thoroughly happy.

Jim watched both his friends a bit longer before pulling his shirt up over his head and off, revealing his long, impressively muscular, alabaster torso of fine definition and horseshoe triceps and chunky eight pack.

He unfastened his belt buckle and pulled down his black dress pants and white underwear shorts, stepping quickly out of the heap of clothing.

He had a relatively flat bum in comparison to his other attributes, but it was sexy with small curly hairs on his drumstick thighs and high calves.

His 9-inch circumcised fleshy cock erect, he raised his large arms and yelled, “Come and get me. Come suck my fucking dick!”

He was less afraid for his own safety as he was jealous of the fun his friends were having.

Two small vines, thinner than the ones binding his buddies, slid quickly on the grassy floor towards him, from the distant darkness.

Mateo groaning to his right, Sh’Ram moaning to his left, Jim opened his arms wider, his fingers outstretched.

“Come suck me dry,” his deep voice echoed.

They reached his ankles and rested softly around the tops his thickly veined feet, encircling but not as tightly as they had done for Mateo and Sh’Ram, who were fast approaching their climaxes.

Two tendrils wiggled down from the high unseen ceiling and gently but firmly secured his wrists.

Another single vine, one with a pink flower like the others, wiggled towards him from where the two vines on his ankles had come from. Like the head of a swan it hovered a few inches from the tip of Jim’s anticipating flesh helmet.

Through a hidden window, Salem had been watching everything as she rattled the container of rooffies she’d gotten from the unsuspecting Mateo when she brushed up against him in the garage.

“Okay, boys,” she whispered, “I’d say you were in position.”

She tapped a small beige switch on a wall. “Lights.” She said.

Jim had his eyes closed tight, waiting, with a big toothy grin on his face, for the head job, or butt fuck of his life. He didn't care which.

He’d never told another male but Mateo, but he’d ask some girls during sex to stick their finger of choice up his ass while he came in them.

He was hoping he’d get it as good as Mateo was.

Sh’Ram couldn’t hold back any longer. And the flower wasn’t stopping. He could feel the heat rise from the soles of his feet, tensing his calves, thighs, his butt cheeks…erupting from his contracting ball sac, through his shaft like a volcano.

With every cell in his body, he yelled as if he were gushing like a fire hose.

Mateo’s body shuddered like someone had thrown polar ice cap water onto it. He squealed with reborn delight. He never knew, never dreamed that being fucked could lead to such a climax.

“Jim,” he screamed. “I’m….I’m….o-o-o-o-o-o-h…Shit! I’m cumming, man!”

Mateo in his mind’s eye could see God and the pearly gates.

Jim still had his eyes shut, but he was sensing that something was different.

It didn’t sound like Mateo and Sh’Ram were on each side of him anymore, but somewhere way behind him. Also, the overall darkness didn’t seem as profound as it had before.

Jim opened his eyes.

The vines clamped very tightly around his ankles and his wrists, tight enough to almost hinder his circulation.

But that was the least of his problems.

A mere few inches away, directly in front of him was a large, elephant sized, round, football shaped watermelon thing with thick red lips and large sharp, shark's teeth.

It yawned, opening its mouth to reveal what looked like a gargantuan human tongue, as it blew a hot, damp breath that smelled like fresh soil and fertilizer.

It bellowed a deep rumble.

Jim screamed as he struggled to break free of the vines. The small pink petal flower spat the green goo on his now limp cock.

Jim yelled for help, pleading to be let go, kicking and crumbling against the might of the bindings.

Another green tentacle from behind him wrapped itself tightly around his extremely muscular taut waist holding him fast in place while the four others pulled him from each direction, stretching him in the shape of an X.

He looked quickly to his right and left and saw two similar looking huge watermelon monsters with large red mouths on each side of the one in front of him, all with long spider-like vines, attached to him, and his two oblivious buddies.

Sh’Ram was still coming and groaning as he went into the mouth of the carnivorous one that had him.

He was still convulsing and grinning, and squirting when his hairy little athletic body was dropped on to the enormous, snaking tongue.

He was moaning passionately, heaving in blind pleasure his thrusting hips when the mouth slammed shut on him like the trunk of a Mack truck.

The plant began chewing fiercely.

Jim watched and heard bones crunching and snapping. It sounded like someone chewing ice cubes.

Breathing in short gasps for air, Jim could see a large transparent stem sticking out from behind the chewing watermelon, a stem that looked filled with a clear translucent liquid, a long tube that extended out of sight somewhere to the back of the room.

Jim thought he was going to faint as that liquid turned to red, as the blood from his friend spurted through the tube towards some larger green thing further behind all three monsters.

“Oh, God, No,” Jim screamed when he saw Sh’Ram’s severed blankly grinning face, -still with the little bruise on his forehead- and both his hairy feet, still clenching and flexing, churn away in the bubbling crimson chum, out of sight toward the dark.

With everything Jim had, he fought against the binds. He strained so hard he almost hyperventilated.

As he panted, he noticed that his cock was getting hard again, throbbing painfully, against his will, with each beat of his heart.

Mateo, still thrusting like a happy whore against the long shaft of plants in his asshole, hang over the waiting mouth of the monster that would take care of him.

The vine snatched itself from his cheeks, bloodied for quite a length of its stem, having ripened a cherry. The pink flower on his cock let go of its prize, quickly ascending up and out of sight.

His ankles and wrists released, Mateo fell and bounced onto the salivary bed of fangs and gums beneath him, which quickly closed around him, chewing the handsome latino cad to pieces like a gingerbread man cookie.

Jim lowered his head for a moment, but he couldn’t resist, he had to watch the contents of what was once his friend get washed down the crimson tide through the transparent stem behind the beast that just made him a meal.

Jim found himself searching for a recognizable body part. When he saw a severed leg resembling a large chicken drumstick, flushing down the tube among large chunks of pale and thick red flesh, he almost laughed.

Jim felt the vines holding him, all of them, go limp. They still were around his joints and there was still one around his waist, but they were no longer pulling him in any direction.

Honed reflexes from years of high school football, he made a break for the door.

He did not get far. The vines all tightened at once again, toying with him, preventing him from reaching the door, but allowing him to be able to see it.

The tension was different now. The vine around his waist was pulling forward, while those around his ankles and wrists were pulling him back towards the gaping mouth behind him.

Jim's eyes darted side to side. He squirmed trying to see how close he was to the thing behind him, but was almost too afraid to really want to know.

His arms and legs were being pulled back in an uncomfortable stretch while his waist was being held in one spot.

He was being jack knifed backwards.

He saw the vine with the pink flower dart past him from the corner of his eye. He felt it latch on to his hard cock, still amazingly throbbing, still pulsing. It must have been that gel, dripping from his sacks, somehow causing a permanent hard on.

Perspiration dripped from Jim’s square chin as is torso arched impossibly backwards.

His body was in pain but his cock felt like it was being sucked by a Hoover.

Jim began to swoon. In his head he was seeing Sh’Ram and Mateo’s body parts, watching them washed down a tube to someplace to be digested and….he was turned on by it.

God help me, he thought, ”My mouth is watering from it.”

The flower was working its magic on him.

“Oh…my………gOd!” He yelled. “This feels so…fucking good.”

Suddenly he no longer cared what happened to him. He knew he’d have the best orgasm, one so good, he’d never ever be able to match it again anyway.

It was just as well that he did die, right there and then. Or he would spend the rest of his life regretting never being able to top the sexual climax he was about to have.

His feet were now far off the ground, still being pulled slowly behind him.

The vine around his waist was still taut but it moved just slow enough to allow him to be stretched by the other four vines, while still being pulled towards the giant mouth.

Jim felt like he was about to lose his load when the plant stopped.

“No,” Jim squirmed, twisting his torso painfully. “Don’t fucking stop now. If I’m gonna fucking die, I want to die cumming my ass off,” he yelled. “Don’t you stop sucking now, you little shit!!!”

The plant obeyed and Jim thought it was going to suck the hair off his scalp through his cock by the roots. He felt like he was going to be sucked bald, the little plant was so good.

He closed his eyes. When he opened them again after what seemed like mere seconds, he found that the soles of his feet, his heels were parallel to each ear and his underarms. He had been bent impossibly backwards. He would probably never walk again after being completely folded in half, chest up, like a cardboard action figure.

He was now over the open, gaping mouth of the plant beast.

It was surprising that he could feel the heat on the tops of his feet as well as on the back of his head.

His hands and toes were being held back, sticking straight into some dark cavern, his head below what looked like a giant tonsil.

His eyes rolled forward. He could see the top row of teeth angled up above him.

He knew what was going to happen. As soon as he let lose his sperm, those teeth would chomp down on him, and he’d be chewed up like a tootsie pop.

He didn’t care, because the surge he was starting to feel from his nuts would make dying worth it. He was going to fight it with everything he had though.

He wasn’t afraid of dying anymore, not at all, he just did not want to let the best bust nut , the last bust nut, go to waste from premature climax.

This was going to be the mother load, he thought. He would shoot all the way to the door he couldn’t get out of.

Then…the flower stopped.

It pulled away.

“What?” Jim said.

“What the fuck? Don’t stop now,” he said, straining his neck, trying in vain to look down at his groin, pulled backward so far he couldn't see any part of himself but his nose.

The little flower hovered a few feet from his face. If it had eyes, it would have seemed as if it was just staring at the frustrated man.

A lime green tendril poked out of the flower quickly like a licking, spiteful tongue and then the flower abruptly darted away.

Jim could see it in the corner of his widened eye moving outside of the giant mouth, away from him.

“What?”

The humongous throat bellowed, sounding like some great whale, or a laughing deep baritone giant.

Jim began looking quite fearful. It wasn't happening like he thought it would. He was paralyzed, unable to move even one of his long hairy little toes.

He was going to die. He was NOT going to experience that great climax that his two friends had.

The large slippery tongue lifted up and brushed against the tops of his legs and knees and the tops of his feet and outstretched toes, the back of his neck, tasting his sweaty, saline-drenched body.

Slowly the mouth began to close.

“No,” Jim screamed as the darkness covered him. “I didn’t bust my nut yet! This is not fair! No.! AHHHHH!”

His voice became high like a girl's, all his masculinity, gone in the face of sheer terror, as he screamed and pleaded.

The plant covered him as he continued futile protest. “No. No…N…!”

Between the lips of the great mouth, Jim’s still-erect penis, wiggling a bit, and his hanging hairy ball sack--still dripping with the green gel-- were the only things of the young man that could be seen of him from outside the thick pursed red lips.

His muffled screams and pleading girlish cries for help heard from behind the thick pout, were cut short when the chewing began.

Hard brutal chomps crunched and munched large muscle, and broke, with sharp sickening snaps, strong bone. Jim grimaced as he felt crushing daggers rip into his flesh.

His balls, and his penis, still rock hard even through all of that, were severed from his body, falling to the grassy floor with a small bounce...not to be eaten.

Behind the chewing large watermelon head, in the stem leading to the stomach plant, both of Jim’s large feet, his toes pressed close to his creased white soles, a clawing hand and some loose floating fingers, his decapitated head –with his hazel eyes wide open and still blinking slowly in shock, wearing the pained expression of the shock of a denied orgasm and painful death -were all whisked away like waste down a toilet, through the long tube toward the darkness, at the rear of the room where each bit would be digested to the last thistle... toenail...butt hair, and marrow...where there'd be no trace left of him or of his two consumed buddies, little hairy Sh'Ram, and tall and slick Mateo.

In the garage, out by the black Jeep Cherokee, Salem grinned.

“Yeah, boys,” She said. “I lied. I’m not a writer.”

Salem picked up their socks, and eyed Sh’Ram’s Giorgio Brutinis.

“I sell used shoes and pre-owned cars.”

Later, she would go in and get Jim's fleshy cock and balls and eat them marinated with a nice fresh leafy green salad.

The End