Desert Flower
Written by: Neskiairti Edited by Rade Hawkeye Preface and dire warning's ahead! The following story is a work of extremely distasteful fiction. There is blood, gore, rape, and all kinds of other nasty things involved. Please use your own head, if you feel you are unstable, or unable to separate reality from fantasy; perhaps you should not be reading this? Anyhow, I intended this as an opening piece of... (lets call it art for lack of a less beautiful word, hey?) anyhow, as an opening piece of art in prelude to me getting back to writing. I hope everyone who reads this story, finds some meaning to it.. or at least able to squeeze one off. Also, a side intention, As evil incarnate, I intend to traumatize the entire world. So please, "spread the horror; traumatize your grandmother today!" And now, On with the show. Desert Flower The desert was a beautiful place. Arid plains of sand, rock, hardy plants and strange animals; this desert wasn't much different in that regard, perhaps slightly stranger, more dangerous to the unwary. However, as hazardous as it was, so too was it just that much more beautiful. Sandblasted bluffs turned to spires of sculpted stone; flowers of a thousand colors, fruits of a thousand flavors, animals of a thousand natures. The people who lived at its edge were wary of this beauty. They lived in drab homes of fired mud bricks, thick enough to resist the erratic dust storms. They ventured forth in to the danger only in large groups, watching each others back. They survived and even thrived at the edge of danger, a strong, solid people. When they grew old, too old to be anything but a burden, they succumbed to this beauty, this temptation. Recorded history was a fickle thing, repeatedly being lost to time, to the sands, to war and fire. The people had lived aside this desert for as long as their history could recall. They knew the desert, loved it, and protected it from the ravages of civilization. Too dependent were they upon the trade of spices, herbs, and medicines to allow it harm. The world was also protected from this vast patch of beauty. Wanderers warned away from certain death with tales of old armies which had marched through on the way to war... wars which had never been fought, for the armies failed to arrive.
- * "I tell ye, its all lies. They play us fools Marook." Chanae exclaimed, riding away from the village. Her purse was empty, and saddle bags nearly as much, with what she had purchased. "Nay child, the only fools are the ones who disregard the warnings. We have a fair haul, perhaps less than last month, but fair. Did you see the fresh markers near the temple?" Marook replied, gesturing back, towards the village and the setting sun, "five more than last month. When the markers rise, so do the prices until the young are old enough to hunt and forage." "Aye, I saw it. Could have been a dust storm... or maybe the markers were put up only to hike the price. I saw just as many people today as I saw last month and the month prior." Chanae said. A shake of her head and a kick of heels spurring her horse on, Marook continued, "More's the fool ye are then child. I saw the bruises under the eyes, I saw tear stained cheeks. Something happened, something bad, and it was recent." There was no more speaking, Marook had taken the lead far enough the wind wouldn't carry the words. She was quite obviously disturbed by the situation, this was her life. She had run this trade rout for twenty years, making a tidy profit simply for the distance she traveled. Her home was the road six months out of the year, leading a small caravan of traders. Any disturbance in one end or the other of her trade, could lead to loss of income. Chanae was new, this was her first year on the road, barely of age and full of piss'n vinegar... or at least that's what Marook claimed. A rowdy, crass girl who had grown up daughter of a fur hunter; a beastly man who had taught his daughter well the value of a sharp tongue and how to survive with it; She knew she could increase her profit by getting the herbs and spices herself. The two of them had gone in to town to make their purchases, but it hadn't gone as well as hoped. Many of the herbs had been almost double the price of last month and the stock had been low. Some of the most expensive items had been non existent, and what was there was so over priced they couldn't have afforded it. Marook had purchased one of the only Prasette vine pods for five times its worth, and only because she knew she could sell it for at least double what she paid. The sun had set by the time they reached the caravan circle. Watchers were up, keeping their eyes on the night while food was being passed around the central fire. Chanae relieved herself of her goods, and with a plate of food retired to her wagon; Song and dance would follow, spirits would flow, and people would celebrate being swindled. She wanted nothing to do with it.
- * It was late; the moon had just started to rise, dimming the stars. Still she laid awake, mind itching with the need to do something. She wanted to go gather, she wanted to see for herself how dangerous it was. A smirk on her face as she thought about it, overcharged month after month for a few bits of plants and some animal organs. She rolled herself from her blankets and crawled out from her wagon. Marook was fair, and had been doing this rout for years, but she was no risk taker. She paused only to saddle her horse and take a few rations. Just a look she thought, nothing more, just an hour at most away from camp. She passed one of the guards on watch, giving a grunt in greeting, then beyond. He had no concern over her activities, he knew her, and on occasion she would take late night rides. Foolish perhaps, but she had not yet broken a horse. With the rising moon, she picked her path, going towards the north around the village. She could see the bluffs in the distance, below her, moonlight reflecting off bits of mica. It almost looked like the snow of her homeland for a moment. She missed her home, almost, the heat of the plains and hills was too much for her at times, and with the glimpse she had a brief dejavu of a night ride through snowy peaks. It was too warm though, and the feeling passed quickly, as quickly as the basin of the desert rose towards her. Within minutes the horse was kicking up sand and pebbles, skidding a little upon a slope. A moment to slow and steady him, looking over the shadowed landscape; It was truly bright, beautiful. A glance to the sky showed her a waxing moon, days away from full. It was a good night to ride. The horse meandered between bluffs, around shadows and through valleys of drifted sand. There had been a storm not more than a week ago, and many of the plants were still trying to poke their way through, while others were rootbare and struggling; an endlessly shifting environment, where one day you might find a sea of beautiful flowers, and the next, nothing but a wasteland of sand. It was beautiful though, the people had it right. Even in the pale gray of the moon, it was beautiful, and she lost time, lost sense of direction, and even a sense of purpose. She felt free, happy, and for a moment, at one with the world. But greed reared its ugly head only a short while later. A drift had been dug away, a pit in the sand, with a large ground spreading Prasette cactus. The moon was at its peak, and she could make out the wilting flower with the semi swollen seedpod below. Paydirt, she was rich, "I knew they were holding back..." she murmured to her horse and dismounted. He would stay put, a well trained stallion, and didn't even spook easily. With a bag tucked under her belt, she began to descend the sandy slope. She had a stave and hatchet at hand to help with the vines and to get down. It was slippery going with sand just cascading under her boots, but she made it to the outward vines without much trouble. She tried to pry the thick foliage to the side, but they were half buried and too woody to give. With another tactic, her hatchet just barely bit in, and the whole cactus seemed to shake with each chop. The first one was done though, cut away, the end oozing green, sweet smelling sap. Now it just tossed aside when she knocked at it with the staff, but it gave her enough of a path to make it towards the fruit. The cactus was certainly an oddity; at the center was a large bulb like a barrel, with vines protruding from each ridge along its surface. The vines themselves were long streamers of dark green covered in thorns. They seemed to stretch out forever, some twisted over one another, some just radiating outwards in to the dunes. She wondered at the vein's purpose, as the center was the fruiting body, with the large flower sticking upwards and the seed pod below sitting atop something that looked like a melon. The whole fruit was fuzzy with tiny thorns, fur like, and tapered, the bottom half egg shaped, while the top was conical coming to the end with the flower. She knew in the middle of a bloom, it would have been gorgeous, but now it was just pathetic looking, lifeless in the moonlight. Her footing was careful, the soles of her shoes landing only on the sand... but half way there... she had to begin hacking at a second vine, just to make room for her to walk. It wasn't as successful however; the entire cactus did shake with each hack of her hatchet. To her dismay one of the vines next to her legs must have been knocked aside, for she felt thorns bite her ankle, through the leather of her boot. Cussing like her father, she continued to hack at the stubborn cactus. Maybe five minutes later, it finally fell away and was knocked aside. She tried to start forward, but found her ankle wasn't obeying correctly. As she put her weight down on it at her first step... it buckled. Her eyes shot wide in horror as she watched, almost in slow motion, the ground coming towards her. Ground covered in thorny vines. She tried to come up with a solution, anything to save her from the quite fierce agony she was destined for. Nothing came to mind or hand as she struck. Her shoulder first, bit by a hundred needles.. then her body, rolling forwards in to the nasty tangle of the Prasette vines. She only managed to just protect her face with an arm, but felt her entire body being punctured. Her arms, bleeding from a thousand wounds, chest pierced everywhere... stomach in pain, thighs. She screamed out of anger more than pain... adrenaline pumping through her veins taking the edge off. The thorns were only a quarter inch in length, nothing deadly, but they certainly hurt. She lay still for a moment, hearing the rustling of wind almost drowned out by the beating of her heart and her ragged breath. She cursed herself a fool, diving in to a cactus at night, and then tried to rise. Her hatchet was lost to the vines some where, but her stave was just under her fingers. It was enough to leverage her upwards. It was slow and very hard, much harder than she had expected, she supposed the pain was overwhelming her. She was finally to her feet, leaning heavily on the pole. Her front was covered in blood from thousands of tiny pricks, most of them already starting to scab, but damn did they hurt. Her eyes went to the seed pod, only a few yards from her, then back towards the dune with her horse on it. She had come too far to give up now... she would get that pod, she would. Carefully she stepped, feeling her ankle not responding well, muscles too relaxed. Her body was trembling, the adrenaline wearing off she surmised, and her legs were leaden. She almost fell a second time as she stumbled over a vine, and then brought her foot down on it, piercing the sole of her boot. More cursing, more anger, no simple plant would defeat her... but it was no simple plant. A minute later she fell again, this time her legs just giving out. She could feel it, feel it all, but her body didn't respond, her arms wouldn't rise, her legs wouldn't move. The thorns were poison, she knew it now; her muscles were no longer working. Her body trembled every once in a while, but she couldn't get it to do anything worth while. Drool ran down her chin, and she was thankful she had gone to the bathroom only a short while before leaving or there would have been a mess. She did however feel the humiliation of urine running down her thigh, pattering against the dry sand below. "Is this your purpose plant? Am I your watering can?" she asked without lips, unable to speak, barely able to breath. There of course was no response to her mental ramblings. Time seemed to slow, the moon setting, but taking for ever. Chanae wondered if the poison would wear off, or if she would become fertilizer laying here on the desert; dark morbid thoughts to be had.
- * Chanae's eyes opened to searing pain and brilliant sunlight. Her entire body hurt, a dull ache that throbbed though her from head to toe. The sun was only peaking above the dunes, morning, and still she couldn't move. It was worse now though, as her awareness came to her. She couldn't move her head, but from what she could see, the vines had moved, she was wrapped in them, dozens of woody tendrils coiled about her body, piercing her everywhere. She was limp, watching almost lifelessly as they grew livelier. She was lifted; she could feel it as the ground pulled away below her. Most of the vines were in on the task, bringing her towards the center, towards her greedy prize. She had wanted it so bad last night, now she was only terrified. She was dead, she knew it; it just wanted her closer to the roots before she started to decompose. Her head fell forward as the position changed, she wasn't going towards the roots; she was being lifted upwards, above it. Red rain she thought as the vines twisted and tore at her, clothing ripped apart, skin shredded and scratched in too many places to count. Her blood splashed off the top of the seedpod and melon like protrusion below, the flower had fallen off in the night. A vine moved between her legs, scratching and gouging at her nethers, a horrifying sensation to be sure. The leather riding pants were dragged from her body in tatters, belt snapped in a handful of places. But her vulva, her precious virtue; her father had instilled in her a sense of pride over it, at least when he wasn't embarrassed to remember she was a woman. It was cut and bleeding, she could feel the thorns raking between her lips. If she could have cried, she would have. It was one thing to become plant food; it was another thing to be mauled in her most sacred of temples. She swore silently at every god she could think of, at the land, the people, and most certainly the cactus below her... below her and rising towards. The vines moved aside, pulling her legs apart wide, and the one violating her went with. She felt a momentary relief at that, but only until she lowered down upon the cactus. Her knees met the large body first, scraped and cut further against the thorns. They slowly spread further around it... until she felt the tip of the fruit brushing over her leg. Those tiny hairs, the fuzz that covered it, they fell off embedded in her skin, not horribly painful, but she could feel each one, a tiny needle left in her as it was brushed against her body. Lower even she dipped, and she felt that cone where the flower had been, nestle against her bleeding sex. To scream, to cry, to fight back, anything other than this paralysis she felt. She was forced open, her intimate nethers parted over the fuzzy tip of the fruit. Her sex being filled with millions of tiny hairs embedded everywhere. Within seconds from that first nudge, her bladder clenched, the muscles in it seizing, and what little had not already drained from her body, was pissed down over the cactus. Another type of venom she thought, she was a watering can. The vines relaxed some and she was lowered brutally on to that horrible thing. It ground in to her, the vines moving her back and forth until at last it found the lower cleft of her true entrance. Mentally she screamed, horror, anger, agony, all overwhelming her mind as the tip was shoved in to her body; hymen torn and worthless, entrances stretching over the large pod, a good six inches long and three across at the egg like base. She tore, more of her blood running down the fuzzy surface. Descending until her ripped and stretched cunt was bottomed out. She could feel the pointed tip against her insides, pushing against the ring of her cervix. The vines jerked her down, a violent tug, and she was opened, ruined. Her worthless cunt seated on the fuzzy surface of the melon like bulb, thighs being filled with uncountable tiny thorns. Her entrance swallowed that entire seed pod, ragged torn lips closing over the base, pinned between her body and the bulb below her. The tip, which had nestled so close to her cervix, had thrust in, ripping that little ring apart, and opening the way to her womb.. a violation beyond rape, beyond imagination. Her mind snapped, mentally she just gave up, there was nothing left, nothing but a slow death. Whatever use the plant had for her, she knew she wouldn't live. The bulb between her thighs shrank, squeezing down on itself. The seed pod trembled, and she felt sticky sap gushing in to her uterus. The dozen or so marble like seeds in the pod, forced out with the sap, in to her body. She could feel it running down her torn and abused sex, then down her thighs. The scent of the sap touched her nose minutes later, eyes dilating and belly clenching. She needed sex; she needed to be mated, plant, human, animal, anything. Her body began to tremble, muscles starting to work again. A croak of a moan escaped her just as the bulb clenched again, another heavy gush of liquid pouring in to her womb, inflating her. She could feel her belly bulging outwards, naked and bloody, filled with the cactus seeds and sap. A few minutes later, the bulb clenched again, another, smaller spurt of liquid pouring in to her womb, and the last few seeds with it. Something tore in her, too much pressure in her womb, and not enough flooded through her fallopian tubes to relieve the pressure. It popped, the sap and seeds drenching her body cavity. She didn't care, lust filling her mind, the agony of her entire body was minor in comparison to the need. The vines wrenched her aside, and the seedpod broke off, still within her vulva. Sap drooled down her thighs as she was lifted across the sand. She barely noticed anything, the walls of her sex clamping and milking the pod in side of her. She was released shortly, the vines lying down, and her tumbling to the top of the dune. For many minutes she just laid there, body trembling as the use of her muscles slowly returned. The first thing she did however, was lay her hand between her thighs, not caring that her crotch was filled with the tiny needles... her finger found her clit, and she needed to cum. All of her energy going in to that, body writhing on the sand as she brought herself to orgasm, but it wasn't enough. Even with the massive intrusion of the seedpod, it wasn't enough. Three times she brought herself release, but it never felt like enough. Eventually she gave up, and ripped the pod from her sex. It was empty and light, the seeds gone, all in her belly some where. She stared at it for many minutes, all the hairs that had covered it, had been embedded in her body, now smooth and worthless. She tossed it aside. Exhausted, but still horribly lustful, she climbed to her knees, then her feet. In the distance she saw her horse, grazing on some scrub grass that had managed to free itself from the sand. Stumbling her way around the pit towards him, legs trembling still, body covered in dried blood. The thorns had pierced her in so many places, but she hadn't lost much, she just felt horribly thirsty and imagined her water bottle in her saddle bags. As she got close, up wind from him, he lifted his head and stared at her. A strange stare, one she had only seen on him when he had sniffed out a mare in heat. It struck her, the sap; he smelled the sap that was running down her legs. She was at a loss for what to do, her insides clenched. Part of her wanted to flee, part of her wanted to throw herself over the nearest boulder and spread her thighs for the stallion. She knew she couldn't escape the desert without him, she had to wash. The decision was taken out of her hands however when he reared and came trotting to her. She knew what he wanted; she could see the growing length as it slipped from the equine sheath below him. Her mouth watered, her knees trembled, her body begged and pleaded for it, her mind screamed at her to run. She ran, that she did, as far as she could before the much faster animal had caught up with her; a head butt to the back, sending her tumbling forward. She landed, chest first over a wind carved stone. Rough against her naked skin, tearing some of her cuts open. Shod hooves sparked against stone above her head as he horse tried to take position. She screamed, feeling him thrust against her, the head of his cock ramming in to the small of her back. A trail of wetness was left in its wake. Chanae knew that she only had one recourse left. Her body lifted slightly, throwing herself upon the surface of the boulder and rolled over. The wild eyes of the enraged horse looked upon her, spurts of watery semen splashing from his bobbing cock. It was large, not as large as a draft horse, but large enough to make her quiver in fear. She felt his precum landing on her pregnant looking belly, and watched over it. He again thrust; this time landing on her sex only because she lifted it to him. It hurt, like a hammer being brought down on her pelvis, bruising cunt and bone. She had been opened already by the massive seed pod, the horse penis only slightly wider erect. A scream was still torn from her throat however as the beast plowed in to her womb. Already torn asunder, she opened to him completely, ripping the previous wounds wider, cervix destroyed, she was impaled. Eyes watching the display as the horse bucked itself in to her body, battering and dragging her across the stone. Pain for sure, but it satisfied the lust, her eyes rolling back with her head, body arching, the huge prick lifting her as it grew harder. she was just a toy bobbing at the end. A snort sounded, almost bewildered, the horse thrusting still, hard, but all of a sudden its bladder gave way. Hundreds of the tiny needles that coated her cunt had embedded themselves in his cock, the venom in them working, to water her womb. She felt herself being filled, so much of the hot horse piss gushing in to her, belly bulging further and further, "no... NO!" Chanae cried, "It's too much..." broken off by a whimper as the horse continued, pissing didn't stop his lust, The brutality of each thrust pounding in to her body, jarred every pain, leaving her in orgasmic agony. She came, again, while her body felt like it was being torn apart. Her head lifted, to look at the maddened animal as it rutted her like a mare. Half of its immense malehood was buried in her body, and he was growing close, she could tell; his balls lifting towards his body as she watched. She felt it then, heated thrusts, ragged in rhythm, brutal in nature. His semen erupting in to her womb, flooding her with the nutrients the little seeds desired. Exhausted and broken, she laid limp as he finished himself off in her body... She watched only a moment more before her head fell back, darkness closing in on her mind.
- * Chanae woke to darkness, aches, and pains. Her thighs were sticky and splayed wide, her body battered and bruised. It took her a minute to realize the pounding her belly wasn't just from the agony. Her head lifting to see, a tiny fox emptying himself in to her... around her body on the sand she could see hundreds of tracks. Fertile ground she was, and so thought every animal that sniffed her out. Her nose was wrinkled up, face cringing at the scent of piss blood and semen. The ground below her was sopping wet. The rock she had been laying on was covered in streaks of dried liquids, blood, piss, semen, sap, and likely her own arousal. She tried to rise, but her stomach didn't want to respond right, muscles clenching but nothing being done. Tears streamed from her cheeks as another beast came up. Who knows what; she only heard the slithering of it across the sand. She didn't want to see, didn't want to think of it, her thighs open wide, she couldn't close them, her body not obeying. Eventually she lifted her head to see something like a giant alligator slowly padding towards her, nostrils flaring repeatedly as it sniffed her out. Scaled snout pressed between her thighs, coming away covered in wetness.. but she was thirsty. With as much effort as she could produce, she moved as the lizard tried to bring its heavy body atop hers. She found herself face to cock; a strange length glistening with wetness, protruding from a slit in its scales. It didn't care, or didn't know the difference between her holes, and gladly accepted her provided mouth. Bitter, salty, foul, she choked as it was forced down her throat, disgusting, but she no longer cared. Her mouth dry, she could barely wet the length enough to keep it from hurting her. Lips cracked, blood lubricating it, and changing the flavor to something more acceptable. Absently she wondered if the beast had a cloaca, and shuddered at the thought of what might be covering the length in her throat. It was a slow mating, with almost gentle thrusts as the beast used her. Her eyes watered while she gasped for breath, the smell and taste was getting to her, and she was growing nauseous. He was almost done though and with a few more gentle thrusts, she felt her belly being filled with cool sperm. Eventually he pulled off, and she lay limp, still thirsty, wondering if she would die of dehydration now instead of thorns. Cramps began to grow in her belly, or at least they felt like cramps. Her muscles ached and her stomach felt like it was being torn apart. The animals had left her, the lizard being the last, the thought crossed her mind where her horse had gone too, but really she didn't care anymore. Just content to lay there and let the world pass her by now. She waited for something, anything... the pain growing more and more intense, and she was beginning to feel quite sick. Certainly something was wrong, she knew it. A sharp pain began just below her navel, growing worse and worse, for many hours. The sun rose eventually and began to bake her abused body. Thirsty, broken, and now immobile with pain and what ever had affected her muscles. Her head propped up against stone and sand, she watched as a bulge formed inside her stomach, growing by the hour. It began to turn a green, disgusting color, pushing higher and higher with more and more pain. Her entire torso was swelling and shifting ever so slightly. At around noon, her skin broke and a bud of cactus pushed through her skin. Both horrified and entranced, she watched the rapid growth. A seed had sprouted in her body, she understood now. No longer afraid, or even concerned, she felt more like a loving parent towards the little cactus pushing up through her body. A few hours later she began to smell that same sticky sap; her lust rising. The scent and pheromones drew the animals again, small and large, but they all came. But now her lower body was mostly dominated by cactus. Internal systems beginning to shut down as roots grew through them. The animals had one hole left to them only. If she had some one to talk to, she could have described the different flavors and scents in intimate detail, so many beasts using her mouth. Little more than a potted plant that needed watering. She was almost happy to comply, the lust in her strong, as well as the affection for the budding little plant that needed her to live. Foulness flooding her throat, tasty fluids, bitter urine making her eyes water, she didn't care as long as it helped what she now considered her child. Mother Nature, a beautiful thing, she had become part of it all, an intimate, important place in the ecosystem. Thought slowly faded with these musings upon the last day, maybe a week laying there in the sand, slowly fading. Vines had begun to grow out through her, and the animals no longer came close. She had done her job, and as the sun set. Glassy eyes watched with wonder... would some one come and pick her fruit? End And to my gentle friends who took the time to proof read as well as give feedback.. thank you. (on with their goofy review quotes!) "I've never read a story so creepy and horrifying yet so fucking erotic." ~ Richard "I'll hand you three or four jars of an unlabelled white fluid now." ~ Kailliene Undercroft "It's sickenly arousing as all hell ^.^ if you haven't read it yet, you should." ~ Kyuui Tedeschi "If you think you're perverted - read this - then you'll know for sure." ~ Local Pundit "I've never been so beautifully traumatized in my life!" ~ Random Pedestrian "Neskiairti is one sick fuck, but goddess, you gotta love the asshole." ~ Random Stalker "MY EYES! MY EYES!" ~ blindman "Note to self: Don't read stuff that gives you a hardon whenever boogers are walking by your room." ~ Simpleton Bear "I just wet myself, twice." ~ Ugly step brother "Note: Reading this story with a friend in the room may result in you telling them to GTFO so you can paw off." ~ Dackstrus "Horrible, beautiful, and quite akin with nature. Honestly reminds one of Edgar Allen Poe if he was horny." ~ Rabid Nazi "No thanks, I already have a penguin." ~ mouse "Imagine the use of that sap as a fertility enhancer.. "erectile dysfunction? try our cactierectus!" "you will be SO thorny you wont know what to do with yourself!" " ~ Neskiairti