Diamond in the Dark

Byron gazed upon the barmaid with a longing that was plain for all to see. Though thankfully, everyone else was also distracted by the same comely woman. Hilda was a beautiful girl, daughter of the barkeep, and the sweetest girl in the village. Yet still, she was unmarried.

Byron longed to make her his wife. If only he had the simple nerve to speak to her more than a few sentences. Like most men in the village, he was one of many vying for her hand. Her father was a harsh man and hard to win over. Several young pups had already been chased out of the bar this week for lavishing her with gifts. “She is rather pretty isn’t she?” Byron broke off his lovelorn gaze and looked over to the other side of the booth he was in. Someone had joined him. A strange woman by the look of her. Not from the village, at any rate. Byron scratched at his beard, wondering what the woman wanted. “Ah. Yeah. Very pretty.” He agreed. The woman, not too bad on the eyes herself, was a bit older with dark flowing hair peeking out of a green hood. Her face was angular, but not in a bad way, and she had dark eyes that gave her quite the innocent expression. She smiled at him, which he found disconcerting. Who was she? “I’m sorry,” Byron said, “Do I know you? You don’t look like you’re from the village. She shook her head in agreement, her eyes full of amusement. “Ah, no. I’m just passing by. My husband is a merchant you see, and we just got into town. He decided to catch some sleep early. I wanted to see the locals.” “Oh. Well… welcome to River Haven. Hm. Enjoy your stay.” “Oh thank you. I will. Now tell me, how are you planning to woo your lady friend?” Byron narrowed his eyes suspiciously at the strange woman while taking another sip of his cider. Why was she chatting him up? She said she was married right? Why bother with him? She just wanted to gossip, most likely. Women loved to talk relationships and drama after all. Just like men loved to talk about war and politics. He decided to entertain her. Why not? He was just drinking alone before she came along. “Don’t rightly know.” “Oh, truly? No idea at all? Surely you must have something.” Byron shifted, uncomfortable. He was just a simple farmer. He didn’t make much money, and he wasn’t particularly handsome or strong or tall. He had tanned skin, a dark beard and dark stringy hair. He knew he wasn’t the most eligible bachelor in the village, and in truth that his pining was for naught. There was nothing he could offer the beautiful barmaid. “Well tell me you at least know her name?” the woman said, her head resting in her hands as she leaned forward on her elbows. “Of course, I do. She’s Hilda.” “Well, what else do you know about her? I can see she’s very pretty, blonde, freckled, not much in the chest department though.” “Hey! She’s perfect just the way she is!” “Oh, I didn’t mean any offense!” She held up her hands, “I just mean, I know what she looks like. But what attracted you to her specifically?” Byron avoided the stranger’s gaze, not really liking the conversation. The truth was that Hilda was kind to him, and pretty. That was really the beginning and end of it and he knew it. He knew very little about what she liked or didn’t. He’d tried to find out by asking Horace, her father. But he just laughed in his face and told him to bother some other poor woman. “She’s just nice is all.” Byron finally relented as he took another swig of cider. The woman nodded sagely, as if he had something wise. “I get it. Sometimes that’s all you need in this cruel world of ours.” Byron wasn’t sure is he was being made fun of or not. “So, Lady. What’s your name exactly? You often come talk to strangers in a tavern when your husband’s sleeping?” “I don’t know what you’re insinuating sir, but yes. I enjoy getting to know the local folk we peddle our things to. It helps with our business and I make a lot of interesting friends. I just thought you looked like you needed someone to talk to.” “I look that hopeless, do I?” She laughed, though Byron hadn’t meant it at a joke. Still, he smiled. When her laughing subsided she finally introduced herself. “I’m Amanda. Merchant’s wife.” She extended her hand over the table, like a court lady. Byron figured she meant for him to kiss it, but instead he shook it. “Byron, farmer.” She didn’t seem too upset with him refusing to kiss her hand. Instead she just smiled and took her hand back into her lap. “So, Byron, any plans on how to woo your fair Hilda?” Byron mumbled, not really sure what he should say. What did women like? Flowers, he supposed. That was something he could do. Maybe write some poetry? He could read and write, which not every peasant could. Though he didn’t know if Hilda could. He also didn’t know how good he’d be at poetry. They liked jewelry; he knew. But he wasn’t rich enough to buy anything nice. “I dunno. Maybe… flowers at her doorstep before sunrise? Write a love poem? Its about all I can do, I think. I don’t have any animals, or land, or money. Don’t know Horace’d let me marry her anyway.” “Oh that sounds perfectly romantic! And trust me, if you win the girl, you’ll win the father. I’ve seen it hundreds of times.” Byron was surprised she thought that a good idea. He had thought it rather silly himself. In truth, he had resigned himself to the fact that he would never actually court Hilda. He just wasn’t impressive. But with this lady’s encouragement, he was starting to feel a little hopeful. “Of course,” she smiled, “You’ll need the proper flower. And I know just the one!” Byron rolled his eyes. So that was her game. She was trying to sell him flowers. Amanda, reading his face, gave a harrumph. “Now what is that look for? I’m only trying to be helpful!” “More like you’re trying to sell me some flowers.” She smiled, wagged her finger, and pulled out a bit of parchment from her satchel. She laid it on the table, with a surprising firmness. “Not at all, I’m trying to help a lovelorn man. And this is completely free.” Curious, Byron picked it up and unfurled it. It was a map, a map of the local scenery in fact. But there was a trail that the map marked that led deep into the forest, and into what seemed to him a cave. Though he was not aware of any actual caves in River Haven. Still, as he read the writing on the map to get a better clue what this was all about, he found a drawing of some kind of blue and purple flower with gold specks. The illustration was surprisingly detailed, and even properly portrayed the fact that this flower glowed in the dark with a silvery light. “Its called the ‘Diamond in the Dark’. It’s a rare flower found only in this area of the world. Lucky for you it grows just outside of River Haven.” “And you’ll just… give me the map to it? If its rare, its worth a lot of money, yeah? Why you letting me go get this flower just for my own ends?” “I like to do nice things, Byron. You looked like you needed someone to do you a kindness.” Byron wasn’t the smartest man in the world, he knew that. Heck, he was sometimes downright stupid. But something about this just seemed fishy. Stranger from out of town, giving a man a map to a flower that’s supposed to be really rare and valuable, and then not expecting anything in return? “I wasn’t born yesterday. C’mon what’s the catch?” Amanda rolled her eyes at first. But when Byron gave her a stern look, she seemed to change her mind. Instead she gave a sigh and confessed what she wanted in return. “Truth is, I don’t know if that map is accurate. I bought it for a lot of money, because I knew my husband would be coming to this village. I wanted to go check it out, but he doesn’t want me venturing out into the woods by myself. He says there might be monsters out there.” “Bah, monsters never bother us. Too close to the main roads, the Order keeps us plenty safe.” “Still, I was just hoping you might confirm the flowers are actually there. If so, I don’t mind letting you use them to woo the barmaid. So long as my husband and I can gather a few ourselves and sell them to men inspired by your success.” Byron nodded his head. This seemed far more likely than someone just wanting to help him out of the bottom of their heart. He missed the little smirk Amanda grew as his demeanor became more agreeable. “Well, heck. This seems like a pretty fair deal to me. I’ll go get the flower tomorrow, and I’ll let you see it first. Where you want me to meet you and your husband at? You two staying here?” “Yes, we are, but don’t bother showing me. I’ll hear about it if you give them to your sweet little Hilda. And that will be all the confirmation I need.” “Well…alright then!” The two of them spoke a little more before Amanda went to join her husband upstairs. Meanwhile, Byron was happily ordering another cider, celebrating his good luck. And though he couldn’t really think of any clever things to say to Hilda as she handed him his drink, he felt emboldened enough to look her in the eye and smile. Which was quite a step up for him. The truth was… despite his feelings he had never had a proper conversation with the girl. Still, he was hopeful about tomorrow, and nothing was going to sour his mood. Byron wasn’t a big fan of having his foot in his mouth. The day had started off cloudy, purple storm clouds gathered in the sky. His neighbor had warned him today would be a bad day to go off into the woods, but in truth, Byron thought that the clouds would pass. They did not. Rain fell in heavy sheets all along the forest, pouring down in a powerful cascade. Byron made his way steadily along the path, a wide brimmed hat protecting him from the rain. He had the map in his hand and was following it as best he could, but the rain made it hard to tell where he was. The rain was so heavy he couldn’t see but a few feet in front of him. He squinted at the map, wondering if he was still on route. Damn it, he didn’t explore the forests much. Not since he was a kid at least. Still, he trudged on, doing his best to avoid the worst of the mud. It wasn’t easy, as the rain poured down, small rivers had begun appearing. They were blocking some of the ways he was supposed to go. He could have walked through, but he wanted to do his best not to get his feet wet. Over several hills, plodding through soaking wet grass and walking over rickety logs and several powerful miniature rivers, Byron finally made it to his destination. He guessed he’d been going at it for maybe two hours, which while relatively close, seemed pretty far from the little world he had known most of his life. A dark shadowy outcropping of stone appeared in the rain as if in silhouette. Looking at the map, Byron knew this was the cave where the flower grew. He made his way inside rather easily, nothing hiding the entrance to the cave. The mouth was large, easily accessible by at least a hundred men abreast. But although the opening was wide, it narrowed into a long winding tunnel further on. It was dark, Byron noted. Especially so with the rain still pouring down outside. He took off his pack and begun rummaging through it, hoping that his supplies had stayed dry. He was in luck, as his tinderbox and candles were just dry enough to work. He took the lantern he had brought with him and placed the candle inside before lighting it. With a soft warm glow now accompanying him, he placed the lantern securely on his belt. He wanted his hands free. He knew the likelihood of monsters was next to none. After all, they were still pretty close to civilization. But sometimes the children would hear strange things in the forest at night. Sometimes the men and women of the village did too. Byron never had, and the Order insisted that there were no monsters in their lands. So on most days Byron was happy to believe them. However, standing in a dark cool cave, with naught but a flickering candle guiding your path as the echoes of rain drown out all other sounds, it gave one pause. Better safe than sorry. He walked deeper into the cave with assuredness, figuring the flowers must be deeper. As he walked, he was happy to find that the tunnels were consistently large and roomy. He had been afraid that he might encounter small cramped spaces. He wasn’t the bravest man and wasn’t looking forward to crawling around in the dark. Soon, the pitter patter of the rain was gone, and all Byron could hear was the dripping of water off of his own clothes hitting the stone below. It was eerie, how quiet it was. As if the whole world had decided to hold its breath. He didn’t like it. Though his lantern burned brightly, it didn’t seem to penetrate the dark very much. The walls were getting narrower, even if the ceiling was still too high for him to see it. As a result he was starting to think he might be in the wrong cave. Or even worse, that there was no flower at all. But just as he was about to give up and head back, he saw something glowing in the distance. He smelled something too. Something sweet and delicate, powerful and robust. It was the most heavenly scent he’d ever encountered. He tried to liken the scent to something he’d experienced before. The closest he could think of was warm baked bread soaked in honey with hints of lavender. Even then, that was a poor description that he felt didn’t do it justice. As he got closer, he saw the walls of the cave were covered in vines and leaves of all sorts. They were quite unusual. As he passed by them, his lantern illuminated the queer foliage. He found that the leaves and vines were all various shades of purple, with little flecks of silver reflecting off of them. They were quite beautiful, really. He’d never seen anything like it before. Underneath him, the stone gave way to more foliage, the smells increasing and growing stronger. This time he felt it smelled more like maple syrup and vanilla, but he could still get a bit of that honey and baked bread smell if he concentrated. It was so strong, he felt he was almost choking on it. But then, he saw it. There was a corner off in the distance, and from it was a soft glowing bluish-silver light. He smiled and gave a small whoop of pleasure. He was certain the flower was right there. In his haste to move to the corner, he failed to see that the vines along the walls and floors quivered with every footfall. Byron was brought to fantasize about his chances with Hilda. He’d never thought the likelihood of being with her was very great, so had never really let himself imagine a life with her. In truth he just imagined a loving doting wife, three small children, and someone to greet him with a hot meal when he came home from the fields. It all seemed paradise to him. The intoxicating smells were getting stronger, and soon Byron began to think of what he might write to her. He wasn’t a poet, but he had some skill, he thought. He began experimenting as we walked, going through what sounded nice. He decided to keep it short. As he turned the corner, he was repeating his makeshift poem so that he would not forget it. “Maiden fair and full of heart Your beauty shines, a star in the dark I wish to know you, love you sweetly. Like this flower that I bestow I hope with this you’ll know Your beauty consumes me quite completely” He knew it wasn’t William Shookstaff, but he figured it was pretty good. After all, many peasants couldn’t even write, let alone write poetry. As he turned the corner, finally, he was bathed in silvery blue light. All about him were flowers extruding from the vines on the walls. Like the others, the vines and leaves that made up the floor, wall, and now he saw, the ceiling, were various shades of purple. Some so dark as to look black, and some so light as to look pink. Flecks of silver adorned all of the leaves, which shone in the light given off by the flowers that covered the walls, ceiling and floor. They were tubular, with long stamens of blue that shone like stars. They had five or seven petals of white tinged with blue at the bottom. Those too seemed to give off a light that entranced him to no end. And all along the petals, flecks of gold glimmered in the dark. “My God, they’re beautiful!” He knelt down in front of a grouping of the flowers and took off his pack once more, rummaging to find his clippers. Hilda was going to love these! But as he took out his clippers and made to snip one of the flowers free, he felt something grab at his leg. Startled he turned around to see what it was, and hoped to God it wasn’t a monster. A long vine that he had been resting on had curled around his ankle, and seemed to be getting tighter. Suddenly, he became quite aware that there were vines all about him, and they were swaying despite there being no wind. He kicked at the tentacled appendage and managed to shake it off. With a quickness he didn’t know he had, he took three of the flowers and began to sprint out of the cave. Sadly, he was not fast enough to avoid the tendrils as they became more animated. They sprung to life all around him, darting this way and that, not capturing him… but creating a solid wall in front of him. He paused, sweat beading at his forehead. His escape rout had been cut off, and he didn’t know what to do. With him staying still, the vines took advantage, and wrapped themselves tightly about his ankles once more. He gave a yelp and fell over onto the leafy floor. But thankfully it was rather soft, and so no harm came to him as he did so. Still, his heart beat violently inside of his chest as the vines did more than just restrain him. Long tendrils began to slither down his shirt and up his trouser leg. He yelled out, but it really didn’t matter. No one else was with him, he was far enough from the village that they’d never be able to hear his screams. Still he gave it all he had, and tried to tear the leafy tendrils off of him. It was to no avail as more vines wrapped about his wrists and pulled them back. He was spread eagle on the floor now, the vines wrapping all around him. Then, a most curious thing happened. The vines began to move him. One would pass him on to another one, moving like an undulating wave to the back of the cave. He struggled in vain, the tentacles wound tightly around his ankles and wrists at all times. He was beginning to work up a real sweat as he strained with all his might. But the effort was exhausting, and he had no luck at all at breaking free. As he was moved further and further to the back of the cave, head first on his back, he attempted to position himself in such a way that he could see where the vines were taking him. He briefly ceased his struggle as his mouth dropped open in awe. A huge closed flower, big enough to take up the entire cavern, was the source of all the twisting vines. It pulsed with light, like a great beating heart, its vines like veins running all along the cavern surfaces. It was currently closed, pearlescent white petals with flecks of gold and silver all along the sides. At the base, it was the same dark purple as the vines, though the texture seemed to him like velvet. The color lightened as the petals grew outward to the pearly white that he had noticed first. It was a beautiful sight, to be sure. But as he was being dragged towards it, he began to remember several horrid tales. Tales of man-eating flowers sound quite funny being drunk at the tavern. They seem far less funny as a flower actually eats you. He screamed for help, hoping against everything that someone would hear him. The flower in front of him seemed to thrum when he got closer. And that was when things got interesting. Little beads of pinkish purple light began to appear in lines on the sides of every vine. It was as bright as day as the fuchsia light engulfed the area. Patterns of light, like veins, glowing bright pink pulsed within the flower as the flower bloomed. The vines pulled him up to his feet, his arms pulled up toward the ceiling as if he were in manacles, giving him a front row seat to the show that was unfolding. As the flower bloomed, Byron was struck dumb by the form of the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Her flesh was not like that of a human, but seemed composed of long twisting flower petals, a soft creamy white with slightly purple tinges at the end of each petal that composed her body. Glowing pink lines traced her curvaceous figure from the sides, with tiny specks along her arms and thighs. Her face was beyond anything he’d ever seen in life or in painting. Like the rest of her, creamy white petals made up her face as her lips and eyelids were colored a deep luscious purple. Gold flecks adorned her cheeks, and trailed down her elegant neck like freckles, only enhancing her beauty. Her breasts were ripe and enticing, bare and naked for all to see. Byron had gone to the brothel once or twice in his youth, and he was fairly certain he’d never seen tits so fine as the ones he beheld at that moment. They were capped by glowing pink nipples, which he found quite arousing. Her hair looked to be made of the same purple leaves that adorned her vines, a dark purple with flecks of silver and glowing pink light twining through their veins. As she looked at him with glowing fuchsia-colored eyes, he had the distinct feeling that he wasn’t meeting a monster, but a goddess. How could a monster be this beautiful, after all? His mouth felt dry as he tried to speak, nothing coming out at all as his mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for breath. The creature tilted its delicate head to the side as if she were contemplating him. Then she smiled. “I really liked your poem.” Byron was struck with even more incredulity. It could speak! Now if only he could remember how to do that. After a few stumbling attempts at finding his tongue, he uttered. “Thank you?” That made the creature smile again, and the vines that restrained him pulled him closer to her. He blushed furiously as the vines suspended him only inches from her face. She looked at him with such a critical eye, he felt as if she could stare into his soul. The glowing lights of her body made him squint at the proximity, but at the same time he couldn’t help but trail his eyes all over her body, taking it in and doing his best to commit it to memory. He gave a yelp as she reached out a hand and grabbed the back of his head, pulling downward. He began to struggle again, thinking that he really was going to be eaten, and that the beauty he had seen had only been a façade to lower his guard. But no harm came to him, he was just pulled down a bit as the strange plant thing sniffed his hair. He ceased struggling as he blinked in confusion. What was she doing? “Your mana is so sweet. A little overripe, though. You must be very lonely.” She pulled him up by the hair, looking him in the eye. It was hard to look at her straight on, the glow making his eyes water. “W-what are you? Are you a goddess?” The creature tilted her head to the side again, as if she found the question curious. Then she began to giggle. “Oh my! Such a silver tongue! You flatterer, you. No, I’m afraid I’m no goddess. I’m just a unique Alraune.” “What… what is that exactly? Are you a monster?” She nodded once, tousling her leafy hair. “I am. And it’s a plant-like monster, obviously. Are you telling me you’ve never heard of the man-eating flower?” “I-I have. But I-I mean. You aren’t going to eat me, are you?” It was hard for him to imagine such a beautiful creature eating people. But he grew nervous all the same. “Oh, I most certainly will. But perhaps not in the way you think. I really did like your poem, by the way. Are you a poet? Come to see the rare Diamond in the Dark?” Though his mind was still reeling form her declaration that she would in fact eat him, he pushed that from his mind and answered her. “Ah. No. Not really. I’m just a farmer. I came here because of a map some merchant lady gave me. I thought… I mean… I didn’t really know you were here.” “Ah, I see. So what business does a farmer have for coming to see me? Merely wished to see my beauty for yourself?” As she said this, she gave him a coy smile, and posed in such a way to emphasize her bust and buttocks, her arms outstretched above her head as she put herself on display. It had the desired effect, and Byron stammered as a bush came to his face. “I-um. Well, sort of. See, there’s this girl…” Suddenly, the creature seemed to change its demeanor at the mention of a girl. It folded its arms in front of itself and became pensive. “A girl, huh? Do you love her?” “Well… I mean, love is a strong word. I like her, she’s kind to me. But… w-well.” The creature darted forward, a velvety soft hand caressing his cheek. “Don’t be afraid. You can talk to me.” “D-didn’t you say you were going to eat me?” “Well maybe I changed my mind. Maybe I’ll let you go if you talk to me for a bit.” “Then, do you think you could, ah, let me down?” She seemed confused at his request at first, but then she realized that she was holding him by the wrists and ankles. With a giggle, she snapped her fingers and the vines let go of him. He dropped a few feet at the base of her flower, which showed him just how large not only the flower was, but how tall she was as well. He hadn’t noticed being lifted aloft, but she towered over most men. She looked down at him with mirth, her cheeks rosy as her glowing fuchsia eyes bore down at him. “So, out with it. Tell me about this girl.” Byron scratched at his beard, still somewhat dumbstruck by the turn of events. Still, if it would help him get away, he supposed he could talk about whatever the strange flower monster wanted. “S-sure. Well, Hilda… the girl. She’s the barmaid at the tavern in the village. Horace’s daughter. He’s a rough kind of person, protective. I would be too, if I had a daughter that pretty. I guess you could say I fancy her. Love is… a strong word, as I said. Truth is, we uh. Well, I mean. We haven’t had a real conversation about anything. But she’s kind to me, and very pretty. And I guess, I thought… with the flower, maybe I could catch her attention.” “I see. I see. What’s your name?” “Byron.” “Well, Byron, you may call me Fuchsia. I’d love to help you on your little quest. But you have to give me something in exchange for a flower, alright? It’s only fair.” Byron couldn’t believe his luck! The creature wasn’t going to eat him. And it would even let him take a flower. He never thought a monster would do something like this. “Alright. What do you want? I don’t have much…” “Oh, not to worry,” she clasped her hands in delight. “I just want another poem. Make a poem about me, and I’ll let you take a flower, deal?” As she spoke, one of the twisting vines on the ground rose up to eye-level with Byron, and right before his eyes, the familiar flower grew and bloomed before him on top of the vine. “Deal!” Now all he had to do was think of a poem. That couldn’t be too hard. He looked about the cavern, taking in the sights and attempting to be inspired. The cavern was covered in purple vines and leaves, flecked with silver. The flowers that bloomed on the vines were numerous, and each gave off a silvery light that made everything seem to sparkle. Then of course were the strange glowing pink veins running through the veins of the vines and leaves. It was as bright as day, but it seemed as if he were staring into the night sky, there were so many small pinpricks of light emanating from the stamens of flowers. Not to mention all the gold and silver flecks that caught and reflected the light. Byron got to thinking, and though a few minutes passed, Fuchsia waited patiently. “A finer flower I’ve never seen Purple, white, gold, and silver, colors so vibrant! Even the finest poet could not gleam The majesty of your form so resplendent! It would mean much to me, if you would deem Me worthy to take a small part of you home. So that I may gaze upon it, and know I’m not alone.” She giggled as he finished his poem, her hands covering her mouth as she did so. Every vine seemed to quiver in excitement, which gave off the unsettling image of a thousand squirming snakes writhing on the floor and walls. “Oh that was lovely! Soft rhymes are a bit of a cop out, but It was very sweet. Very well, you may take a flower.” Remembering he already had three of them in his pack, he smiled and gave a bow. “Well alright then! A pleasure to meet you. Quite interesting day, I think. Never thought a monster would be so polite.” Fuchsia didn’t respond as he turned on his heel and made to leave the cavern. He made careful strides so as not to step on her vines, but he failed more often than he succeeded. It didn’t seem to cause her any pain, but he still felt he was being rude by doing so. As he was about to round the corner, he found the vines began to move. He was confused as the vines rocketed upward from the floor and entangled themselves with their brethren on the ceiling. And then more of them, like a great tentacled beast, erupted from the walls and tangled the mess even further, creating a wall of foliage blocking his way. Confused, he turned around, finding Fuchsia with her arms crossed, and a smug look on her face. “I said I would let you have a flower. I never said I would let you go.” He felt his stomach churn, and his heart began to beat faster. A cold chill went down his spine as Fuchsia the Alraune giggled, though it seemed far less cute now. “Oh Byron, Byron, Byron… did you really think you were just going to get to go home? A cutie like you? Wandering all the way to my cave and giving me such sweet poems?” Byron was jolted upwards as one of Fuchsia’s vines grabbed ahold of him by the waist. He gave out a yelp, but was muffled as another leafy tentacle wrapped around his mouth. Much like before, he was transferred from tendril to tendril, back to an amused Alraune that looked at him with hungry eyes. The tendrils weren’t so gentle this time, and began ripping and tearing at his clothes. Scraps fell from his body and to the floor, his pack taken and flung to the floor. His lantern was snuffed out and joined the debris. By the time he was dangled in front of Fuchsia, all he had on was his underclothes as he was strung up by the wrists. He looked on with eyes full of terror as he was carried even further towards her. He was placed inside the flower right next to her. There was a thick golden syrup at the bottom of the flower that he hadn’t seen before, where her legs disappeared into the thick liquid. His feet squelched and he soon found himself knee-deep in the odd golden syrup. Fuchsia, meanwhile shrunk her humanoid half down to meet his eyes, and her vines finally let him go. As they retreated, he tried to jump out of the flower, but the large petals of Fuchsia’s main flower closed shut. The petals bathed him and the beautiful monster in pink and gold light. He was hit full force now with the strange and powerful aroma of before. It reminded him of cinnamon and freshly baked sweets, a hint of maple and a musty unidentifiable scent all rolled into one. It calmed him somewhat, but when Fuchsia wrapped her arms around him, he trembled. “Please, don’t eat me.” He whimpered. “So polite.” She said as she licked her lips. “Tell you what. You feed me, and I’ll let you go. But you’ll always be welcomed back.” “H-how can I go if you eat me?” She looked at him a bit puzzled before her face seemed to contort into realization. Then she started to laugh. The whole thing made Bryon quite uncomfortable, and he squirmed as vines emerged from the golden liquid and entangled him. “Oh, you sweet little thing! I’m not going to… oh that is too funny. No, I’m not going to like, ‘eat’ eat you. I’m going to have sex with you. I’m going to suck out that delicious essence.” He continued his struggle, confusion plain on his face. But his struggling was for naught as two tentacles gripped at his underclothes and pulled them down, his cock flopping out into the open air. “I-I don’t understand what’s happening!” Fuchsia only smiled and licked her purple lips. The vines gripped Byron’s arms tightly as they pulled them back behind his arms and bound his wrists together. He was helpless as his ankles were bound as well and the Alraune knelt in front of him, her face inches from his flaccid cock. “Oh my sweet Byron,” she moaned. “Perhaps this will give you a clue.” Then, a long neon-pink tongue snaked its way out of her mouth, and with a long and lurid lick, lapped at his testicles. She brought her luscious lips to his sack and gave them a kiss, her tongue undulating along the soft pliable skin. She moaned from deep inside her throat, making out with his balls. Byron, though still confused, couldn’t help but shiver with a pleasurable moan. His body convulsed and his hips gave an involuntary thrust as she brought up her soft delicate hands to stroke the underside of his family jewels. She continued to lick, fondle, kiss, and caress him in his most sensitive areas. His flaccid cock twitched and grew as Fuchsia played at its base, largely ignoring his shaft at first. But as it hardened and reddened, she couldn’t help but shower it with attention. Byron was treated to a shower of kisses all along his cock as he struggled against his binds. “W-what are you doing?! What is this?!” “I’m eating you, my sweet little poet. And I must say you are delicious.” Before Byron could respond, she retreated from his cock, now nice and stiff, and met him eye to eye. He wanted to say something, but before he could, his lips were locked with hers. She embraced him tightly, and forced her tongue in his mouth. His member was hard and throbbing, rubbing against her luscious thighs and still wet with her saliva. His body was warm, flushed with arousal and tinged with a sheen of sweat. His nervousness was melting away as his thoughts were replaced by an overwhelming urge to explore more carnal sensations. He humped her thighs with desperation, his body electrified with lust. He needed release so badly! Every brush his cock felt along her creamy thighs was heaven. He felt like he could cum at any minute. His breathing was hard and heavy as he felt himself getting close to release. But that was not to happen so easily. His cock was squeezed hard by a wayward vine to keep his climax at bay. “Tell me, my sweet poet,” Fuchsia purred. “What are you thinking about right now?” Byron panted heavily as his sense returned to him, however blurrily and muddled it might be. “I- I want to cum. Please let me cum!” “Really?” She said, amused. Her vine loosened around his member and began to gently stroke it, the nectar from below brought up by another vine to provide lubrication. “You aren’t thinking about…Hilda?” She held him tightly to her bosom as her hands caressed his back in a comforting gesture, his swollen cock played with by her vines and kept away from the entrance he was desperate to find. “Who? Oh! N-no. No, I mean I am now, but I- well I wasn’t before.” He could see her smile at that. She kissed him again, her lips seeming even softer and warmer than before. Her vines became more hurried, slick and wet with nectar and pre. He couldn’t stop himself from bucking wildly against his bonds, as his orgasm built up in his body. But just as he was about to go over the edge, she restricted his cock again and broke the kiss. She continued this maddening dance for gods know how long, bringing him to the edge of orgasm with only the stroking of her vines as the rest of her caressed and played with the rest of him. She’d kiss him on his lips, his neck, his collar, his chest, his stomach… She’d massage his back and thighs, grip his buttocks while all the while teasing his genitals and licking at him with her tongue. His fear was long abandoned as all he could think about was release. Finally, the vines holding him let him go, and he collapsed into the gooey nectar filled bottom of the flower. Fuchsia knelt down next to him, her long neon pink tongue licking her lips as her breasts swayed tantalizingly under her. “Now Byron, if you want to escape, you’ll need to do something for me.” She rolled her shoulders, tosseling her leafy hair and laid on her back. Her large body was exquisitely laid bare, her legs open and her snatch on full display. Unlike a human woman’s, her cunt seemed quite literally an open flower, a deep rich purple oozing with thick golden nectar. Byron got to his knees with an aching erection and a heat deep in his belly. He wanted to fuck this woman so badly. He needed it more than water, more than food, more than the air he breathed he needed to fuck her. She was so beautiful. The most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. He needed to hold her, to touch her. He needed to breath in that wonderful scent, he needed to taste that glorious tongue. He needed to enter her, to breed her, to fuck her. He needed to cum. “Come get me Byron. Come unleash all that pent up stress~” He didn’t need to be told twice. He lunged for her, as if she would try to escape. He pinned her wrists down and entered her quivering quim with a single motion. She squealed in ecstasy and locked her legs around him, driving him back into her when his rabid thrusts nearly made him exit her. The two were engaged in a mad display of wanton lust and sexual fury. Byron had never been so aggressive in his love-making, had never been so needy. He grabbed, fondled, kissed and caressed every inch of her luscious white flesh. His fingers danced over her nipples; his tongue bathed her in possessive kisses. And his cock had never felt such a wonderful sensation. No whore on earth could compare to the velvet pocket he continuously rammed into. Soft, tight, warm, and wet. These were paltry words to describe the heavenly sensations running up his cock and down his spine. He could feel it bubbling up from within him, a surge greater than any he’d felt before in his life. An orgasm beyond any he’d experienced before. Beyond any he’d had with anyone else or any fantasy. With one last thrust he erupted like a geyser. In a torrent of ejaculate, his orgasm came over him like a tsunami and his seed shot forth deep inside Fuchsia’s womb. Rope after rope of semen spilled into her as she crooned with delight. “Yes! Yes! My sweet poet, sow your seed deep within my womb! Sow it deep deep inside!” His flood of semen was eagerly absorbed by the flower monster, and not a single drop escaped her. His orgasm continued far longer than he expected, and he was gasping as his body was wracked with pleasure for several consecutive minutes. Pulse after pulse of his throbbing cock let loose a stream of bubbling white cum, and he felt every delightful contraction. Fuchsia relaxed her body, falling limp underneath him, seemingly as satisfied as he was. Her gold-freckled face was slightly pink with exertion, her heavy white breasts heaved as her glowing pink nipples hypnotized Byron even in his afterglow. How could this beautiful creature have mated with him? Gone was his panic and fear. Now, only a lingering euphoric afterglow filled his body. The idea of escape far away from his mind. His thoughts of Hilda vanished. All he wanted was to stay with this gorgeous flower goddess and bask in her beauty. And so… he did. As wonderful as he felt, as exquisite as the afterglow was, he had been exceptionally drained. He felt so very tired, and she was so very soft. He climbed atop her, holding her in his arms and nestling his head between her bosom. She lazily lifted her eyelids to watch him collapse atop her, and as he did so, she only smiled. She wrapped him tightly in her arms, and betwixt her vines. Dawn came over the nearby sleepy town with little fanfare, the ground still wet from the excessive rain of the day before. Life went on as it normally did, with no one noticing that one of their own was missing. Only one person truly noticed, a woman with a mischievous smile. Amanda, the merchant’s wife Byron had talked to before, prepared her stall in the town square with a fresh-faced man by her side. As she set things up, a long sinuous tail with a bulbous heart-shaped spade began appearing from her backside. It swished about as if she were a dog, matching her smile. Her partner noticed and frantically tapped her shoulder. “Honey, Ix-Nay on the Tail-Ay!” In a flash, she retracted her tail, vanishing it into thin air. “Sorry sweetheart. I’m just excited, is all.” “Oh? For the typical monsterization potions, or something else? You up to something again?” “Guilty as charged, Honey!” The man rolled his eyes as he continued placing items about in an enticing fashion. “So, what did you do this time?” She smiled at him, a mischievous look on her face. “Remember that map to the Diamond in the Dark?” “The Alraune? Yeah, I remember. She said she’d give us some of her nectar if we got her… ahhhh. So that’s what you were doing the day before yesterday.” She wrapped her arms around her husband as a cheeky grin spread across her face. He returned the smile, and embraced her his eyes filled with mirth at the antics of his wife. “I love matchmaking. Honestly, I should have been born a cupid.” “Aye, I bet you should have.” The two merchants were broken from their love-induced stupor by a man the woman instantly recognized. “B-Byron?!” Indeed, it was the scraggly bearded man known as Byron. His clothes unkempt and his hair a mess. But on his face was a very contented smile and a bundle of flowers in his right hand. They were tubular, with long blue stamens and seven white petals tinged with blue. And all along the petals, flecks of gold twinkled in the light. He placed the pile of flowers on the merchants’ booth. A look of shock on both of their faces. “I wanted to thank you. Personally. I know this was no accident.” Amanda picked up one of the flowers, incredulous that Byron was out of The Diamond in the Dark’s clutches so soon. “I… uh… you’re welcome.” “Don’t act surprised,” Byron said with a smile. “Fuchsia told me everything.” Amanda’s eyes widened at that. Perhaps Byron wasn’t quite so free as she assumed. “Oh? And she let you go, did she? Come to woo your fair Hilda, hmm? If so, you’ll need to hold on to these.” She gestured to the flowers he had given her. Byron shook his head and put up his hands in a rejective motion. “Hilda is sweet and fair. But I’ve found a lass sweeter and fairer. I’m just here to pick up my things and set up closer to the cave. Wanted to thank you properly ‘for I leave.” Amanda shared a smile with Byron, who left her to go pick up his belongings. No one else in the village seemed too concerned with him as he packed up his things and left. He told the curious neighbor or two he’s be just outside the village, though none in turn seemed too concerned to see him go. Byron had never had too strong a connection to any of his neighbors. But now, that didn’t seem to bother him too much.