Author's Note

If you've read my previous story Pollen Season then this chapter will be slightly familiar, but with a new twist! Don't worry, we're just bringing everyone up to speed. I'm sure you won't mind. I didn't

1. Reprise

A fern green earth pony with a terracotta mane strutted out of the larger greenhouse in her garden, a step ladder balanced on her back with her neck poking through the rungs. She hummed tunelessly, a slightly smug smile on her face as she propped up the ladder in front of a enormous plant that towered over everything else in the garden.

The Tegmen flower was the size of a small tree, a product of gratuitous earth pony magic and selective breeding by Withania herself, grown for its highly unusual method of pollination. Huge long leaves stood guard around a six foot stalk as wide as Withania’s hips, supporting the bowl of a dazzlingly yellow flower. Withania had waited patiently for it to turn this shade again, its colour stemming from a slick coating of golden nectar over what were actually pure white petals. In this state it was ready to host a catch - on the original plant a bee most likely, but at this size that catch would be a pony.

Withania climbed the step ladder to the top rung, her face lighting up with both the golden glow of reflected sunlight and her widening smile. This would be her third time giving herself to the flower’s pollination cycle - if it were up to her it would be the three-hundredth, but breeding a specimen that could reset to the catch-stage any faster eluded her. It did make every turn special however, Withania’s strong earth pony magic made her connection with this plant particularly intense, and she was grateful for that.

The earth pony stretched out her hind legs and belly flopped into the flower, sliding on the nectar-slicked petals into the dip in the centre. She knew how tough the Tegmen was now - there was no need to be gentle with it - so she wallowed shamelessly in the rich honey-like nectar, quickly getting covered in a sweet mess.

“Heeeeeey Teggers,” she murmured to the flower as she stroked the petals with a hoof, “Mama's back…”

She shuffled herself into the middle so that her hind legs were on either side of the stigma at the flower’s centre. The stamen immediately leaned back against her thighs, detecting the presence of something and feeling out the catch. The natural pool of glistening nectar in the centre tickled her crotch, enticing her forehooves to reach down and play. Happy to oblige, Withania laid back in the petals of the flower and began to slide a hoof up and down her slit, slowly working the nectar into her already lubricated folds. The early afternoon sun was a little on the hot side, but she knew that in a few minutes she would be happily enclosed in both shade and a golden soup, marinating for the Tegmen to sap all of the pollen she carried from both the stamen caressing her, and also other airborne particles that would be embedded in her fur, her gut, and even her lungs. This was how the Tegmen successfully survived in incredibly sparse numbers, it left very little to chance.

Withania’s eye snapped open again as she felt something other than her hoof brush the lips of her own flower, she glanced down to see that a few of the nearest tendrils had joined forces and were seeking out her velvet passage, slowly twisting this way and that to find the source of the foreign fluid. That’s new, thought Withania, raising her hoof to see what the stamen were doing, But then normally at this point I’d be wedging as much of the stigma as I can in there so I guess they’ve never had a chance to do this…

She took the opportunity to start lapping at her moistened hoof while her tendril friends slowly pushed into her inner passage, her breath and heart rate quickly rising. They sought contact with their host, pressing outwards against her walls and opening her pussy up as if a stallion was at work down there. With greedy thoughts she gently nudged and guided the other stamen laying over her thighs to her epicentre, feeling them join their siblings in a wriggling mass that was quickly building tension deep inside her.

The nectar pooled about her hips and smeared across most of her fur was slowly soaking into her skin, softening her body, making her pliable. Relaxing into a blissful rythm, she scooped up more nectar to lap from her hoof and lay flat against the soft petals while the flower’s stamen twisted and probed her caverns. They were sensitive to the catch tensing up, and she wanted to hit cloud nine at least once before the flower closed up on her. Unable to reach her softening and widening pussy, the further tendrils around the flower’s stigma reached over to wind around her hind hooves and legs, holding her steady against the push of the multi-stranded tentacle in her passage.

Withania sighed in pleasure, riding with her hooves free, eyes closed again, imagination running away with images of leaves wrapping her up into a package, giant vines covered in pollen seeking to impregnate her so that she could bloom into a beautiful flower herself.

“That’s it… that’s it… now hard…” she murmured, and twisted her hips outwards to pull on the stamen wrapped around them. They responded immediately by clamping firmly and binding the lower half of her body to the flower, while the tendrils in her flooded pussy bunched up, their combined girth expanding against her clenching walls, pushing up inside her while her own body’s nectar built in pressure, seeking an exit. The flower was ready, the petals around her curled at the tips, and her golden seat began to close in on her.

The pony’s body was tipped up, and gravity pushed her harder still into the writhing probes inside her love tunnel, and she gasped out as her floodgates broke open, pressing back against the flower wrapping shut around her. The ridged, corkscrew-like texture of the stamen lodged inside gave a unique feedback for her velvet folds to grip, their slightly rough surface teasing her senses, drawing an image in her mind.

Finally she breathed a deep sigh as the crest of the wave subsided, leaving the wash of hormones behind it. The flower closed like an aperture around her, cocooning her body in a warm yellow shade, now held upright, but with space to move and turn. The stamen slowly relaxed as she did, and with nowhere else to go she was lowered legs-spread onto the point of the flower’s central stigma, spreading her softened hips wide open again. Her hind hooves sunk deeper into the neck of the flower where the stem opened up, into the source of the nectar.

The pool of golden liquid was now rising, the flower reacting to its catch and seeking to bathe them in the sticky goop that trapped all useful particles it could find. Withania rested while she watched the level climb past her midriff, and then her chest and up to her neck. She greedily began to drink, filling her belly with the sweet elixir. Soon it would fill every available space inside her, suspending her like an insect in amber.

While she gorged she suddenly felt another unexpected poke down below. She could hardly see down to her hind legs, but she immediately knew that it was the stamen looking for another entrance again. With her pussy occupied to its fullest by the stigma, that left her soft and now well-lubricated anus. Again, not something she’d felt the Tegmen do before, but a little extra attention certainly wasn’t unappreciated.

Before she could focus on what was going on downstairs however, the nectar rose past her head, cutting off her senses and flooding her nose. She gulped for a few moments, knowing what was coming next, but knowing that her body couldn’t voluntarily do it. She blew out the last of her breath, and her lungs reflexively inhaled, flooding with the nectar. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to this part - her diaphragm spasmed, trying to clear her lungs, but there was no air left inside the flower. After a few convulsing moments, her body tied down by the stamen to prevent her lashing out, her lungs relaxed again as they found oxygen in the nectar. She took a few sluggish breaths, fluid flowing in and out with each sigh. The most alien sensation.

With her senses dulled down to low hums and the creak of the flower’s structure bobbing in the breeze, she became acutely aware of her swollen abdomen filled with the stigma, and the stamen slowly winding their way into her rump. The other tendrils seemed to reach much further than ever before, winding up as far as her belly, wrapping her forehooves against her body, their pulsing grip pulling her down onto the huge shaft and then letting her rise slightly as her body pushed back. The steady build was on again as her loins sang out to the plant to use and abuse her. Fill her up. Stuff her full. Between breaths of nectar she took gulps of it, hiccuping out the last of the air inside her stomach until every space in her was flowing with the Tegmen’s juice.

The tendrils in her back door kept pushing into her, she could feel herself somehow filling up even more than she already was, discovering a new capacity she’d never felt. The tendril was navigating into her intestines, pushing and twisting through the maze of her lower gut, leaving not a millimeter of space in its wake until her eyes widened as she felt a poke at the base of her stomach.

Even if she wanted to react to this, she was well past the point of no return. The stamen had her bound, the flower was sealed closed and would remain that way for the next twelve hours or so. She was entirely at the Tegmen’s mercy, and could only hope that the softening effects of the nectar on her body would keep her from harm. Her joints were loose and flexible now, the tissues of her body malleable and accommodating to the flower’s invasions.

Withania’s esophagus was already dilated with golden nectar flowing out from her mouth, displaced by the rising tendril from below, and her internal fires blazed as she realised where this was leading to. A muffled moan, more felt as a vibration than heard, sounded from her neck as the stamen continued its journey through her entire body, reaching up her throat and finally erupting from her mouth. Her eyes stared in indulgent curiosity at the gently waving tendril appearing in front of them, her pussy emitting small clouds of her fluids across the flower’s neck in sympathy. The stamen curled back down, finding the line of Withania’s neck and bending itself around her throat - not tightly, but enough that she was now entirely helpless, unable to move in the slightest.

Even as the realisation set in her second orgasm pulled her muscles back together, and every stamen binding her dug in, forcing her down onto the stigma, the bulge of her abdomen expanding out further, and the tendril piercing her end to end expanded, locking her body straight. The mare was beyond caring exactly what was happening, she just wanted the feeling to continue, to never stop, the rush of blood through her arteries pulsing the nerves in every sensitive part of her body. Interlocked tighter into the Tegmen flower than she’d ever been, she bathed in sexual exhilaration.