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Seeing too much of the color purple wasn't really a thing that happened. Sure, it was theoretically possible, but reality all but mandated that a situation where there was a truly overwhelming amount of purple would basically never occur.

Grove was seeing too much purple. It was all he saw, the fluorescent glow burning itself into his mind and controlling him like a puppet. Not that he minded all that much. The constant warm oozing of slug slime over his entire body lulled him into a deep state of relaxation, and that wasn't even mentioning the purple sigils that had etched themselves into his mind. He could see them constantly, a darker shade than the purple surrounding them and yet somehow shining more intensely. They remained fixed in his vision, solid and unmoving, foreboding and comforting at the same time.

There was a warm, thick pressure in his rear, and his balls and cock were enveloped in a hot, tight hole that milked him endlessly, drawing out load after thick, creamy load from his testicles, which were always happy to provide.

The blue dragon wasn't looking for a way out. He didn't want out. He was more than happy to stay here, warm and slimy and horny. Grove wasn't sure how long he'd been like this. He didn't care. All he perceived was purple, and wave after wave of pleasure.

And so naturally it came as a great shock when he felt the slug's cock remove itself from his tailhole.

"Nnnf?" He mumbled, his lower jaw doing all the moving as the slug over his head kept his upper firmly locked in place.

He suddenly felt empty. And cold. For so long he'd been used to the constant sensation of a slug's erection plugging up his back passage, and to have it suddenly taken away was, in a twisted sense, traumatic. And then it got worse.

One of the few recognizable constants of Grove's new life was the weight of the slug that had attached itself so firmly to his groin, a constant heaviness that brough with it pleasure and satisfaction as it pleased him, and he pleased it in return. And the sudden absence in his rear proved an unpleasant prelude to what was to come, as, just as suddenly, the entire slug that had enveloped his groin for untold weeks, or perhaps months, simply let go and slid off.

"No!" The cry wretched itself free of the drake's mouth suddenly, the shocking coolness of air around his slime-covered genitals jarring loose the sigils' hold over his mind for just a moment before it resumed.

He stumbled, his normally nimble feet tottering over the jungle floor in a crude mockery of a hatchling's first wobbly steps. His hand reached down to grip his cock, still hard as iron and drooling semen, and started to jerk himself off, unable to help himself at being deprived of his previous pleasurable confinement.

Sigils flashed in his purple vision, burning themselves into his eyes and making his eyelid droop. He grunted, and collapsed over backwards, landing softly on a carpet of moss.

Rest. He needed rest. His body went limp, hand sliding down his leg as he began to drift off.

---

Grove awoke to the normal sounds of the jungle. His eyes snapped open, burning, and he forced them shut again. The light was too strong; it hurt his eyes. At which point it occurred to him that the light hadn't been purple.

His eyelids tore themselves open against the blinding luminescence, and he beheld the blue sky overhead.

"Wha-?" He blinked in confusion, before letting out a sigh of sheer relief. Without the sigils to maintain the slugs' hold over his mind, he was finally free to confront reality rationally. Which called for a deep sigh and quick action following.

He tried to move his limbs, but they ached. Not surprisingly, considering he'd been carrying around two slugs for a good many months, if not longer. His body was cable of movement, but didn't want to move, which Grove was fine with for the moment. He listened carefully and heard nothing. A relief. The creatures of the northern wilds were many things, but silent and stealthy wasn't often one of them. Unless you'd already been exhausted by the best orgasm you'd ever felt in your life, that is.

The blue dragon relaxed into the bed of moss and took deep breaths, giving his body a moment to recover as he took stock of things.

Firstly, he was still covered in slime. Annoying, but not a major hinderance all on its own. He could wash it off; heck, without his clothes, he could just scrape it off with his hands, mostly.

Next, his limbs. He seemed to still have them, so that was good. Even better, all his fingers and toes were still attached, which he determined by flexing them each individually. He didn't turn his head to look; such an effort was still beyond him. But he was pretty sure that everything was still there.

Next his ass, which he felt some small but genuine twinge of remorse to realize was still empty and uncoupled. Kind've a shame, but dildos were a thing, and as soon as he got back to the south he'd get himself one to 'plug the hole', so to speak.

And finally he flexed his pelvic muscles, expecting to feel his penis bounce limply against his thigh.

It did not.

Sighing, as apparently his rest was now over, Grove forced himself to sit upright and take a look at his privates, whereupon his fight tightened into an expression of shock.

He wasn't totally free. There, around his groin, was another slug.

"Ack!" He yelped, his whole body going tense as he took in the sight of it. It was a small little thing, its dark purple body wrapped tightly around his pelvic area. It wasn't large enough to encompass his hips; indeed, its rear end wasn't even long enough to reach his anus. It was a smaller, less colorful version of the slugs that he already knew far too well. It took him several long moments to realize that it was probably some kind of youngling.

He looked around, scanning the tree line for any sign of the 'parents', but found none. It was just the one little guy. Grove looked down at it with a frown. "Okay..."

It was a smaller version of the big ones, and he'd taken the big ones before. Not always entirely successfully, but he'd done it. He could do this just as easy. So he reached down and tried to work his claws under the edges of the slug to pry it off.

It was at this moment that the formerly inert little creature finally sprang to life. Instantly there was a hot, undulating suck all along the length of the dragon's cock, making him throw his head back into the moss and groan out for the entire jungle to hear. His toes curled and his spine arched, his body betraying him to thrust upward into the slug's suckling orifice, not that it did any good.

Grove expected the milking to calm down after a few moments, just a warning from the slug not to mess with it again, but instead it simply became more focused, the tight warmth beginning to undulate regularly, milking him with what must have been instinctual knowledge to whatever these damned things were.

After a moment of flailing helplessly, the blue drake partially regained control, his hands shooting back down to his crotch to fumble with the slug, again trying to pry his talons under its fleshy body. This proved fruitless, as the slug was so tightly attached that no purchase could be found. The thick purple slime that surrounded and covered it didn't help matters, making the soft flesh too slick to meaningfully grip.

After several minutes of useless fumbling intermixed with long, low whimpers of pleasure, Grove gave up. It was a hopeless struggle. But if he could get someone else to help with it, then it could probably be done. Whatever foul curse had given rise to these things, it would be no match for the wizards of the south.

The drake resolved to walk his way out and get help. He damn sure wasn't going to stay there, in any case.

He tried to rise but was forced back to his knees with a powerful, undulating suck.

Grove grunted, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment against the onslaught of pleasure. "Yeah, fuck you too, little guy. Fuck you too."

Trying again, he was able to force himself onto his feet, and then forward through the underbrush. Each step brough a fresh wobble to his legs as he struggled forward, the little slug taking each jarring movement as a reason to give him a particularly hard undulation, which only made walking that much harder.

Sweat broke out on his forehead early into his hike. The weather wasn't disagreeable, especially not to a drake like him, but the exertion of having to walk on already tired legs while his "companion" sent fresh tremors through them with every ministration was very nearly too much to bear.

At last, scales shimmering with perspiration, he burst through the undergrowth, tripped over a rock, and fell face-first into a pool of water. He came up spluttering, surprised at his own ability to stand up given the shock of the fall and the distraction busying itself with his genitals, which is when he realized that said distraction had gone still. He looked down, into the gently glowing water, and realized two things at once: He had fallen right into one of the cleansing pools, and the slug at his groin was no longer tormenting him.

"Hah!" He barked triumphantly. "You horrid little thing!" He reached down to his groin again, feeling the warm, clear water running over his scaled, and once more attempted to pry the slug free of his privates. For several long minutes, he tried, feeling his newfound confidence slowly waning, until finally, once again, he gave up. At least it was inert now. That would have to do.

He looked around, seeing if there were any recognizable landmarks here to signify that he'd been here before. He wasn't really sure, to be honest. It had been a long time since he'd been... himself, and his memories of anything except his time under the slugs' control were faint at best, so he could be forgiven for not remembering his way around.

Still uncomfortably aware of the warm, sticky presence at his groin, Grove picked the direction that looked the least unfamiliar, and began to wade out of the pool, his body rising up from the water as he reached a shallower spot. Right as his groin emerged from the water, the baby slug started right back up again, forcing Grove to double over as a groan spilled from his slackened jaws.

He stumbled, falling forward into the shallow water of the shore, and just as his groin his the water, the slug went still once more.

The dragon laid there on his cream-colored belly for a few moments, considering his situation. On the one hand, the water seemed to make the slug inert. On the other, it wasn't actually killing it or making it any easier to pry free from his groin. He rolled over onto his back, his groin lifting out of the water in the process, and the slug went back to work, Grove biting his lower lip to try and stay lucid through the pleasure.

Idly, he went through the possibilities; either the pool was doing something to the slug like it did to the cock latcher, the slug was trying to 'hold its breath' in case it drowned, or the slug was simply detecting that its host was in fairly deep water and was temporarily ceasing to torment him so he could focus on swimming. Wouldn't want the breadwinner to die, after all.

The sun was warm against his scales, and the water of the pool was refreshing. Unlike so many other part of this damned jungle, the ground beneath his scales was solid; pebbles and rounded stones instead of muddy gook. It was actually pretty comfortable here.

Indeed, the sun shimmering on his scales was even sort of complimented by the warm, wet sensation between his legs. Grove looked down thoughtfully, watching as the slug undulated slowly, the hot, tight, ribbed interior of its cavity stroking and milking him, making his balls burn and his shaft twitch and spurt. Although that brought on a new question: What exactly was the slug doing?

Sure, it had latched onto him and was working his cock with all the patient persistence of its elders, but why? Grove hadn't orgasmed from it, so far as he could tell. So what was the point?

The dragon felt something ooze out of his cockslit then, something that he assumed to be precum at first, until he felt the odd thickness of it moving past his urethra.

Cum. It was cum. He was oozing cum into the slug.

"...Oh." That's what it wanted. Grove frowned and reached down to set his hand atop the slug again, this time trying to pleasure himself through it. If it was going to steal his semen, the least it could do was give him an orgasm for his trouble. The first thing he tried was a direct attack, setting his hand against the whole body of the slug and mashing it against his crotch in an attempt to stimulate himself.

Unfortunately, the little creature was latched on too tightly and didn't budge, and its body was surprisingly sturdy. He could, very faintly, feel pressure being applied to his member through the slug's flesh, but nothing he could orgasm from. Just the same monotonous sucking.

Growling, Grove started to hump into his hand, his body splashing up and down in the water as he worked his crotch against his palm, forcing his slimy companion up against his palm over and over and over. He began to pant and huff at the exertion, the corners of his eyes going hot as the pleasure of near orgasm racked his body, and yet there was simply nothing for it; he couldn't cum. The slug wouldn't let him.

Finally, he collapsed back into the cool water, rolling over onto his belly to submerge the damned thing and force it to leave him alone while he considered his options. He was naked and alone in the middle of a jungle that he was barely familiar with, and he had an unwanted and extremely inconvenient passenger.

Grove weighed his options. The most obvious choice was to stay here for a while and remain in the spring, waiting to see if the slug would either drown or become so weakened by the pure water that it would just fall off. The alternative was striking out into a hostile jungle with the little pest still sucking him off like there was no tomorrow.

No thank you.

So Grove waited. He slid himself deeper so he could roll over onto his back without exposing the slug to the air. He laid his head back and watched the clouds through the high canopy. He drank some water from time to time. And every few minutes, he'd sneak a hand down to see if the slug had loosened its grip, which it never did.

At last, it became apparent to the blue-scaled drake that the slug just wasn't going to come off like this. With a disappointed huff, Grove sat up and looked down at his companion through the shimmering water. Now there was just one option left.

Bracing himself, he stood, grunting like he'd been socked in the chest when the stimulation of his genitals resumed. He forced himself to march up and out of the spring, and, choosing the direction that was the least unfamiliar, began his long walk. He was going to get out of here one way or another.

The foliage closed in around him, and the purple and green mass over his privates took up a rhythmic suckling that was more or less in time with his footsteps, which ironically made progress more difficult, as his legs would wobble and threaten to buck out from under him with every step he took. Sweat once more began to gather on his scales as the march continued, the light dying out from around him as he made progress.

He kept his eyes peeled for slugs along the forest floor, not wishing to add any more burdens to his journey, much less get recaptured after his miraculous escape the first time.

But it was all for naught when he heard a rustling overhead. As soon as he looked up, it was over. There was a flash of red and green, and a latcher's thick, meaty plant-flesh had forced itself into his mouth, his mouth gaping as the thing's tendrils anchored themselves around his jaws. Grove growled and thrashed angrily, reaching up to try in vain to remove the latcher from his mouth. In response its grip only tightened, and a warm, sweet fluid began to drip down his throat.

"Ng- nff..." The drake stilled, slumping down against a tree trunk as he became more docile, the aphrodisiac he was being force-fed lulling him into a resentful acceptance. He flexed his mouth around the latcher, finding himself unable to resist the urge to suck on it a little, and being rewarded with more of the aphrodisiac.

Grove was tempted to just lay there and relax, enjoying the sensations being foisted upon him. But he knew he couldn't. That sooner or later something would come along and make his situation even worse. So, with a grunt of exertion, he forced himself back up.

Now forced to breathe through his nose, Grove continued his journey. The meaty plant throbbed in this throat, snug and secure in its placement. Its constant violation left grove uncomfortably aware of its presence, and the leaking of aphrodisiac into his throat only made the roiling in his pent-up testicles worse.

He slogged onwards like this, mouth plugged, and slug latched onto his genitals, for another league. The blue drake considered going back to the spring, but he supposed that there would be another along his path, and he really didn't want to fall into a cycle of just going back to the spring whenever he encountered and obstacle; he might never escape.

Plus, he wasn't terribly worried about encountering another latcher. Sure, it might happen, but on the other hand, what was it going to do? Latch on to the slug?

A hot shiver ran through his body at the mere idea of a latcher on his cock. He'd gladly take that over the slug, which drove him crazy but prohibited orgasms or even meaningful stimulation.

Those thoughts led him to a sense of calm bemusement when he finally did encounter the next latcher, which came wriggling out of the undergrowth in his path. It seemed momentarily confused by the lack of a cock or an orifice, and Grove triumphantly kicked it back into the bushes from whence it came, taking great satisfaction in the heavy thwack sound it made as it bounced off an unseen tree trunk.

He moved to continue on his way when a few seconds later he heard a familiar rustling from behind. He was about to turn around and deliver another kick, but then he heard a heavy thump as something launched itself off the ground, and a moment later the dragon felt something thick and heavy land between his blue-scaled butt-cheeks.

"Hnng-!"

He reached around behind him, craning his neck to see, but it was already too late. The horrid little plant turned itself inside out, stuffing its thick shaft right up his rear passage.

Grove's eyes went wide as a strangled cry escaped past the invader in his mouth. He clamped his hand down over the inverted latcher, but it was already too late, and his anal walls squeezed down reflexively as he felt the plant jabbing at his prostate. He tried in vain to pry the parasite loose, but it had already nested itself firmly inside him, and his desperate scrabbling only made it squirm deeper, until he fell to his knees in pleasure.

"Nnnn... Mmmmffnnn..." Grove clamped his eyes shut as heat assaulted them, feeling tears of bliss beginning to drip down his cheeks. Barely of his own accord, he clamped his free hand over the slug at his groin, tying to hold it in place so he could thrust into it. He couldn't help himself anymore, he needed to cum.

He squeezed down against the latcher in his anus; swallowed around the one in his mouth. His prostate was speared, poked, and rubbed as aphrodisiac poured down his throat. He made for a truly pathetic sight, whimpering and bucking and squirming on his knees as sensations assaulted him from everywhere except his cock.

He felt hot, like he was boiling. Moisture dripped down his scales, and he wasn't sure if it was condensation or sweat. He couldn't smell anything except the wonderful, intoxicating pheromones of the latcher in his mouth. His entire body was flushed, and every flicker of air against his scales him twitch and moan.

The dragon's ball roiled and pulsed under the slug's slimy cover, until, finally, he came. Grove screamed around the plant as semen poured out of him in the most intense orgasm he'd ever experienced. He sobbed deliriously in relief and gratitude as he finally felt relief, writhing until he fell backwards onto the soft moss of the jungle floor.

He looked down, still panting, and saw that the slug was larger than it had been. Its previously solid purple body had developed the glowing green lines of its adult kin, and indeed it was almost as large as them now, its front now hanging from his lower belly instead of right on his groin.

Something sounded dimly in the dragon's mind, a reminder of the way that previous slugs had behaved when in this position. The exact thought eluded the pleasure-addled dragon for several seconds, which was all the time that the slug needed to act.

Grove's orgasm had, by this time, finally ceased, and he was laying on his back in the soft, comfortable moss, basking in an afterglow so overwhelming that he could barely think, much less get up and retreat back to the pure spring, wherever that even was.

He felt something prodding at his anal rim, and suddenly he remembered; the slugs had a cock under their tails. His eyes widened, and just then the slug found its mark, burying its newly enlarged member in the opening of the latcher still stuffed in Grove's rear. The plant-flesh immediately expanded around it and stiffened into a hard shaft, stretching his anus even wider and allowing no give.

He moaned out loudly, which cut off into a strangled shriek when the slug slammed its cock deep inside the latcher, making it jump against his prostate, slamming into it with the force of a punch.

"Nf!" Grove grunted, his hips bucking at the overwhelming stimulation. Throwing his head back, he moaned and writhed impotently as the slug began to thrust, pounding the dragon's poor, throbbing prostate with each one.

Grove wasn't sure how many times he ended up orgasming. He lost count after the fourth time. All he knew was that for several hours he lay trapped and helpless under the jungle's canopy, rolling around and gasping in forced bliss until, finally, he passed out.

It was night when he awoke. The jungle had gone dark save for a few patches illuminated by starlight. His jaw was sore, although in realizing that he also realized that it could move; the latcher had apparently vacated. A hand reached around to his numb rear uncovered the same situation there.

"Okay." Grove muttered, reaching up to rub his eyes.

He sat up and looked down to his crotch, hoping to see that the slug had left too. Which it had. And had been replaced by a new juvenile, happily sucking away at his numb, drooling cock.

The blue dragon groaned as he saw it, nestled snugly against his crotch just as the other had been. Once again, he fruitlessly attempted to pry it off, and when that failed, he humped it against his hand in an attempt to pleasure himself through it. When that failed, he sighed and stood up, looking around carefully before beginning the long hike back to the spring.

As he bathed in its waters, washing off the accumulated dust, grime, and dried slime, he kept casting nervous glances up at the jungle around him. He knew, deep down, that as soon as he stepped away from the pool and into those trees he would be forced to go through the same horrible, wonderful sensations that he had before. And worst of all, part of him was even looking forward to it.