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Aradia the apprentice looked enviously around the cozy interior of Portia’s cottage for only a moment before noticing how her small, redhaired host bustled around the little kitchen in an absolute flurry of activity. “Hello, Portia. Do you need any help?”
“What, me?” the palace servant said, fighting her way out of a cloud of concentration. “Oh no. Supper is almost ready. You sit yourself down and just relax. I insist. Guests don’t do any work on my watch!”
The Apprentice took a seat at the rustic dining room table and swung one long leg over the other while she watched Portia finish cooking. In spite of Portia’s insistence, she still felt a little guilty just sitting. Especially since she was enjoying the sight of Portia’s round backside while she worked: a heavenly sight to accompany the heavenly smell of the food.
A few minutes later the two friends were digging into bowls of hearty stew and each enjoying a growler of locally-brewed beer. Portia apologized for not having a wider selection of beverages to offer, but Aradia didn’t mind. The beer, as it turned out, paired with the dish particularly well.
“This stew is amazing,” Aradia said after savoring a delightful mouthful. “There’s something different about it. What’s your secret?”
Aradia might be a magician, but the way Portia fluttered her eyelashes showed that she was the one who was proud to reveal the secret behind her trick. “I splash in a little porte wine. It adds some acidity as well as some sweetness to counter the saltiness of the beef. I also cook the potatoes separately and season them before adding them to the mix.”
“Well it’s amazing. Does it have a name?”
“It’s my own recipe,” the curvy redhead said with pride. “I call it Portia’s porte and potato pottage. What do you think of the name?”
Aradia lifted one azure eyebrow playfully. “What do I think? I think maybe you just came up with a name that alliterates on the spot.”
“That’s what you think? I’m insulted. Insulted, I say!”
Portia set her spoon down, folded her arms and turned her head away haughtily. Then, she opened one eye and peeked Aradia’s way to see her reaction and both women laughed as they resumed eating.
“Well, whatever you call it, it’s amazing. You could open a restaurant and sell it.”
“Ha. If I knew the first thing about running a restaurant. Hey, you help run your shop. You wanna be my partner?”
“Your partner?” Aradia blinked and Portia blushed.
“Business partner. Not flirting. That was totally platonic.”
Aradia chuckled and took a swig of her beer. “I know. Just teasing. It’s just hard not to flirt. You know how I feel about you.”
Portia stirred the contents of her bowl, idly. “Yeah. And I, you. But you’re busy enough, what with that man you’re seeing that you won’t tell me about, and the way Nadia is clearly becoming infatuated with you.”
“Yeah, I don’t know where things are gonna go with that guy…”
Aradia’s body language made it quite clear she was not comfortable with the subject, so they went back to eating, drinking, and sticking to safe small talk. Once their bowls were empty and compliments given to the chef, however, Aradia took a moment’s pause and then said, “I’m glad we’re friends, Portia. I don’t think it’s common that people who are this attracted to each other can successfully be friends. I appreciate you. I want you to know that.”
“Aw, I appreciate you too!” Portia leaned over the table and her long, slender fingers took Aradia’s own. When it quickly became apparent that this was antithetical to the chaste friendship they were trying to appreciate, they quickly let go and Portia tried to cover the lapse with humor.
“I’ve got to admit, it would be easier if I were getting the same amount of romantic attention as you. Your shop doesn’t sell love potions, does it? I’m just kidding. I know love potions aren’t really a thing.”
“Well, actually…” Aradia picked up her leather satchel and rummaged through it until she produced a small, stoppered glass vial filled with a liquid as red and sweet-looking as pomegranate juice. “This won’t actually make someone fall in love with someone they have no feelings for, and I think that’s a good thing because frankly I find the idea of falling in love with someone because they drugged you more than a little disquieting. But this is blend of pepper juices that has been magically enhanced to increase libido and amorous feelings. It also promotes blood flow to, ahem, certain areas of the body which means increased sexual sensitivity and stamina. So, yeah, this is just one example of the things that are out there if you ever want to get adventurous with someone.”
“No thanks,” Portia says. “My libido is a beast to deal with as it is. Hey, you didn’t spike my food with that when I wasn’t looking, did you? Because at the risk of hurting our friendship, this time I’ve spent with you is making me absolutely smitten.”
Aradia’s warm, pink lips parted in a smile at the flattery. “Of course I didn’t. If I wanted to make you amorous, Portia, I’d just woo you the old-fashioned way: by reading Nevivonian love poetry.”
Portia blushed, her little nose wrinkling with delight. “And I’d woo you the even more old-fashioned way: by reading you my favorite smutty parts of Nevivonian romance novels.”
“Okay, Nevivon is tiny. How many romance novelists do they have?”
“Like, three. But two of them are really steamy and the third one just writes smut that’s really gross!”
After a few more minutes of laughs Portia bid her guest farewell. She would have loved to keep Aradia there for further talk and maybe other things, but the magician insisted she needed to check in at her shop that night and Portia understood what was hidden in the subtext there: she had a rendezvous with her man. Frustrating for Portia, but she resolved to be happy for her friend just the same. So she sent the beautiful apprentice on her way with a warm hug and stood in her doorway waving farewell into the falling darkness… Just as Aradia faceplanted on the pathway with an indignant grunt.
“Oh no! Are you okay? What happened?”
Aradia flipped over, sat up, and began fussing at the snaking vine that looped around her ankle as Portia rushed to her side. “This damn plant! It tripped me!”
Portia herself nearly tripped on one of the bottles that had rolled out of Aradia’s satchel which had spilled during the fall. “Stupid graspgourd! Let go of her!”
Portia’s feet were dainty and small, but the stomp she delivered to the vine was powerful nonetheless. It uncoiled itself from Aradia and went snaking back to the leafy mound it had originated from in a hasty retreat. Portia followed it and leaned over the graspgourd plant, chastising it.
“No! Bad graspgourd! Bad! Aradia is a friend! We do not do that! We do not do that to friends!”
“Does that thing understand you?” Aradia asked as she groped in the darkness for the spilled contents of her satchel.
“No. It’s a plant. But talking to plants helps them grow so I figure maybe talking to this one will help it behave.” Portia dropped to her hands and knees and helped Aradia gather up her goods. “Oh, I’m so embarrassed. Are you hurt?”
“Just my pride. Next time we get together you’re going to have to tell me where that thing came from and what makes it so grabby.”
“Aradia, I would love to give you a lesson on the history and cultivation of the mysterious graspgourd. You’ve tasted their delicious fruits in tonight’s stew! Now learn their illustrious past in Horticulture With Portia! Portiaculture, if you will!”
Portia posed with her arms outstretched magnificently toward the mischievous lump of vegetation, making Aradia beam gleefully in spite of herself. “Portia, what am I going to do with you? You are simply too adorable for words.”
The playful redhead dropped her arms. “I just hope you’re not mad at me that my plant tripped you.”
“Oh Portia…” Aradia drew her near and graced her with a fast kiss on her lips. “I could never be mad at you. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Portia helped her get to her feet. “You'll see me the next day because I have tomorrow off. Do you have everything?”
“It’s dark but I think I’ve got it all. Thank you again. For dinner, and for giving that zucchini monster over there a piece of your mind.”
They parted ways and Portia went back inside her humble home. Neither knew that they had not quite found everything. The aphrodisiac potion Aradia had presented earlier lay at the base of the graspgourd, its stopper missing and its contents steadily leaking into the soil that nourished the plant’s roots.
***
Portia awoke excited the next morning, for this day would be one of her rare days off from her duties at the palace. As much as she loved working for Nadia, it was so nice to get out into the city once or twice a month for something more than a shopping trip on behalf of the Countess. But even on a day off there were responsibilities. So she put on a simple linen dress and stepped out into the freshly-risen sun to do the morning’s work in her garden. The graspgourd plant, like many more typical plants in the gourd family, could produce several fruits in a day and it was good to get them at first light rather than risk them overripening on the vine in the heat of the day.
But when she turned the corner of her secluded cottage and saw the exotic plant she dropped her straw basket in alarm. Something was definitely wrong. The gourds were not their usual green-gold colors. Instead, they looked swollen and purplish, like… well, like something a LOT more suggestive than even their regular zucchini-like fruits resembled. But the fruits were as numerous as they were wrong, and several of them appeared to have burst open at the end furthest from the vine. The vines that bore these lay limp upon the ground, the dried remnants of a thick, milky discharge showing to have spilled from within the split gourds.
“Oh no! What happened to you! Are you sick?” She rushed to the graspgourd, careful not to tread upon any of the bizarre, new fruits. “Speak to me!”
She immediately cursed herself for a fool, because plants don’t speak. Maybe she had tricked herself into thinking it could understand her after all. “Oh please be okay! I’m sorry I yelled at you! What on earth is happening?”
Portia stood haplessly before it, running a mental checklist of every kind of pest or disease that a graspgourd could fall prey to. But none of them caused symptoms that looked remotely like this, and certainly not all at once overnight. Realizing she had left her pruning knife inside, she reached out to snap one of the aberrant gourds off its stem for further examination. But the blighted vegetable held fast. It felt hotter than the morning sun should have been able to make it, and maybe she imagined it, but she thought she could feel it pulse in her grasp. As she struggled with it, a stray vine crept up her torso and under her left breast, wrapping around it and squeezing tight.
”No! No!” Portia furiously swatted the offending creeper away. “That is not okay! We do not touch like that without asking permission!”
She returned her attention to the throbbing gourd in her grasp. Furious at the thing, she yanked, and yanked, and yanked…
The end of the gourd popped open and erupted its contents with an audible spurt. Hot, white, milky liquid squirted onto her face and chest, and even into her mouth as she opened it in surprise. It hit with such force that she swallowed some of it reflexively.
Portia stumbled blindly. She grabbed up the hem of her dress to wipe the goo from her face, but immediately felt the tickle of a vine upon her exposed nethers. She yelped in surprise, but the vine continued its journey up the inside of her dress. Its leaves tickled and the thin fuzz coating the vine made her shiver. Other vines were seeking her out as well. Two delicately tickled the inside of each of her wrists, just where it felt really good to be touched by a lover. Another pair curled around her calves, making the little red hairs there stand on end and tickling the backs of her knees which were also quite erogenous to the touch.
“Hey now! Hey. That tickles…”
The vine emerged from the swooping neckline of her dress and reared back to open a bright yellow flower with an unusually tongue-like stamen at its center. The vine flitted toward her and tickled the corners of her mouth, even as its counterparts caressed her other parts. Was it… trying to kiss her?
“Are you… Are you asking for permission?”
The flower actually nodded.
Vines bearing the big, thick, throbbing vegetables were drawing nearer to her now as well.
“I don’t understand. How is this possible?”
That was when a glitter of glass hidden at the plant’s base caught the sun’s light. Portia caught it with her toe and pulled into view the empty vial that had once contained Aradia’s libido-increasing potion.
”Oh no! It must have spilled and you… drank it all up? So you’re not sick, you’re… aroused?”
She still wasn’t entirely sure if the plant could really understand her, but it certainly seemed to wiggle a lot more. It was certainly acting aroused, and to Portia’s surprise, she was becoming aroused too…
She had swallowed the thick, milky fluid that had spurted from the big, hard, purple gourd: fluid that had to still be carrying the potent aphrodisiac…
This wouldn’t be happening if Aradia hadn’t left last night: if the blue-haired little witch had just stayed and fucked Portia the way she’d wanted her to, instead of running off to fool around with some man who wasn’t even that into her. Just the very thought of what she had missed made her fair skin flush, and the red hairs of her arms and legs stand on end, and heat begin to gather in the neglected folds between her legs for which the touch of an amorous plant would surely be better than nothing.
She looked around at the spent gourds on the ground. The poor thing had been trying to relieve its own horniness all night long. Portia, who spent her nights trying to do that for herself more often than not, sympathized. Her cottage and garden were so secluded. No one came there. No one would see. For all she knew, it might be the only way to get her poor plant back to normal. And even if she weren’t high on aphrodisiac-laced plant cum, she would still really, really need to get laid.
“Well okay. Why not? Just let me get this dress off—”
Tendrils shot out from everywhere, roughly seizing her thin linen dress and tearing it down the middle, forcibly peeling it off her body while the vines already ensaring her held her fast.
“Okay. I guess that works too—”
The vines pulled her limbs, eagerly wrestling Portia to the ground. They were incredibly strong! Big, plump gourds circled around her like hungry sharks, their milky fluid dripping with anticipation. The vines around her legs snaked higher and higher around them, pulling her thighs apart. More of them emerged to spiral around and squeeze her ample breasts, just like that first one had wanted to. Flowers opened up at the ends of them to tickle her erect pink nipples with their nectar-dripping stamens. It felt surprisingly good, and surprisingly human when the petals closed around her areoles with the moist, strong suction of a real mouth.
It felt like almost too much. But she found she couldn’t struggle away. The tendrils were too strong. She was helpless! Her prized snapgourd was going to do whatever it wanted and she just had to take it.
Another flower opened and shot between her legs, the tongue at its center slipping between her wet and ready vaginal lips. Portia moaned involuntarily and the flower that still flitted hear her mouth took advantage of the opportunity to press its petals against her lips and probe her mouth with its tongue-like stamen. Her judgment clouded by the strange caresses happening between her legs, Portia yielded to the nectary kiss.
Portia squirmed futilely in the graspgourd’s clutches. Every erogenous part of her body was being stimulated at once and it was too much: too much stimulation, too much pleasure. And she was helpless. She could only submit. Thick, tentacular vines held her fast, making her their slave.
A pair of thick gourds, their thin purple skins stretched taut, found their way into Portia’s grasping hands and she instinctively jerked them off like they were real cocks. Maybe if she pleased her beloved graspgourd it would go easy on her. Maybe it would not deny her—
--Her orgasm. Portia squealed in anger and frustration as the sticky flower pulled away from her sex, leaving her frustrated and on the brink of an orgasm that seemed doomed to be lost. But then a new tentacle reared between her jiggling thighs, this one bearing a huge fruit, ready to burst. It surged home, mating its inhuman thickness to her overeager snatch. Portia would have screamed if not for another big, purple, seed-bearing fruit forcing its way into her mouth.
There was no way to know if her inhuman lover planned it, leaving her on the precipice of orgasm just as the vegetable penetrated her had an insidious effect. Her pussy stretched to accommodate, but the orgasm building within it fractured into several. She began to cum again and again, coating the thick vegetable with her feminine juices a half-dozen times over before the gourd finally quivered and then spent its thick, milky fluid into her womb. The gourd-cocks in her hands quickly followed suit, spraying her breasts with their bizarre juices. Portia knew what was coming next, and thus was ready to gulp down the nutritious fluid that soon exploded into her mouth.
All the cocks that had just spent themselves fell to the ground, withering. But there were more, all waiting their turn with her. An imposing one snaked up over her loins but hesitated, delicately rubbing her clit in tiny circles with its big, blunt end.
“Are you getting me ready again? You’re very, very sweet.”
The imposing gourd pulled back and shot into her pussy, right into another relentless tentacular vegetable fucking.
“OH FUCK!” screamed Portia, overcome by the shock of the rapid penetration. Terror swept her that surely someone must have heard her, but the involuntary cries that followed were reduced to murmurs when another ripe gourd wedged itself into her mouth and two more pressed themselves into her hands. It would have been torment, but the potion-laced plant sap she had swallowed was having immediate effect, making her hornier, more depraved, eager to take every single gourd-cock the vines could throw at her and cum all over every single one.
She was well into taking her third zucchini-like gourd in her pussy when another flower opened up and began wiggling its tongue-like appendage all over and eventually, inside her anus.
“You are a naughty little plant, aren’t you?” she cooed, after spitting the remnants of the latest load of vegetable cum out of her mouth. “That feels very good. Thank you.”
But another gourd hovered just behind the flower, seemingly watching its efforts. She put two and two together as the ersatz-dicks in her hands sprayed their ropey, pumpkiny jism all over her vine-bound tits. That flower is full of sticky nectar. It’s just greasing me up!
The flower pulled away and the gourd watching it went to work, violating her asshole with its fleshy, rind-thick presence. The orgasm produced as the result of a zucchini in two holes was involuntary, immediate, and very nearly agonizing. But again, Portia could not cry out for the gourd that chose that moment to invade her mewling mouth.
So overstretched were Portia’s pussy and asshole that when sap-cum flooded them it came as a soothing balm. And the cum that poured down her throat refueled her lust for further abuse and humiliation. Her watering eyes surveyed the scene. The tentacles that still bore unfulfilled cocks were fewer now: perhaps seven in all. But that was still seven she had to serve, and the fillings she had already endured made it easier for them to last longer inside her quivering pussy and gaping asshole.
Overdosed on aphrodisiac-laden plant juice, Portia didn’t even feel alarmed at how her belly was swelling with each ejaculation. Her womb, bowels, and stomach were getting pumped full of so much liquid and it just had nowhere to go. She looked pregnant and could feel her insides sloshing with every thrust. It rendered her grotesque and uncomfortable, and when the fruits currently fucking her pussy and ass finally released their spunk she came all over them in gratitude.
Just when Portia had resigned herself to being happily fucked to her ultimate fate by an overly amorous graspgourd, the vines slackened, allowing her to move again. Dazed, she looked around and saw that all the gourds were burst and wilting on the ground. There were no more left to penetrate her.
Portia staggered up off the ground and doubled over, expelling the excess fluid from her stomach while more of it streamed down her thighs from her overly-fucked holes. There was so much and it felt like it would never stop! But stop it finally did. Portia was standing in a pool of milky fluid and her middle was back to its chubby, but normal, size.
Panting for breath, she looked back at the graspgourd plant. It looked like its ordinary self again. No more mutated fruit, no more mouth-like flowers. It even looked like it was starting to sprout some of its normal, healthy gourds again: the kind that didn’t pin you down and fuck you. It seemed to finally be cured.
If only she could say the same for herself! She could still feel that potion buzzing around in her system. How could she still want more sex?
She staggered to the well behind her house and began drawing up a bucket of water. She knew the answer: because an orgy with vegetables was still just that. It wasn’t intimacy. It wasn’t the excitement and connection between two people joining together in pleasure and in love. No zucchini could take the edge off that. But a chemical sure could give it an extra edge that was hell to deal with.
Portia gasped against the chill as she upended the bucket over herself. She paused only to wipe away the drenched red curls that clung to her face before lowering it back down into the well again.
“Maybe I’ll just stay in today,” she muttered as she lugged the water into her cottage to prepare a proper bath.
It was almost midday by the time she had raked the broken, aberrant gourds to the compost pile, soaked in a good, hot bath, and enjoyed a bit of leftover stew to appease her now too-empty stomach. Just staying in felt like a better and better plan. The morning had left her with a lot to get her head around, and she didn’t trust herself with that potion still percolating in her system.
Then she noticed that at some point a postcard bearing a picture of the town square had been slid underneath her front door. Wearing only her bath towel, she knelt and retrieved it. The handwriting on the back was familiar, and its cryptic message could be either promise or warning.
“Aradia,” Portia said, amazed. Then, there was a knock at the door.