A bead of sweat drips down your forehead into your eye. Groaning, you wipe it away, like you have been all day. The deep forest was significantly thicker and deeper than you had expected. Even though the sun almost never reaches the ground, almost all of your journey has been a hot sweaty slog. You ran out of food two days ago, and now as you upend your waterskin, you find you are out of water too. That realization makes you slump forward in despair. You haven't seen anything even as substantial as a stream in days.
Not seeing a reason to keep your pack or the waterskin, you abandon them to the forest floor and continue trudging onward. The crude machete is the only piece of your gear that you decide to keep with you. As much for the piece of mind that having a weapon in your hand brings you as it is to cut your way through thick plant life. Pushing on, you continue walking until the midday heat is too much, and you sit in the shade of some plant you don't recognize.
Resting with your back on the thick stalk, you close your eyes hoping to sleep through the worst of the heat. It isn't long before something drops on your forehead. You reflexively wipe it away, much as you have the beading sweat before you realize that nothing should be dripping on you. Opening your eyes and looking up, you see that some thick vine is hanging over your head. You stare up at it and wonder how you missed seeing it for several moments before another drop of liquid falls down on your face.
This time, you wipe the drop with a finger and tentatively taste it. Thin, but sweet, this must be the nectar of one plant or another. The vine is dangling just out of your reach, from where you are sitting. With a hand on your knee, you push yourself up and take hold of the vine. Looking closely at the tip, you see there is still some of the sweet residue. You give the vine a gentle squeeze, and force some nectar to form. Far too exhausted to care, you stick the end of the vine up to your mouth and lick off the liquid.
Whatever else the plant may taste like, the sweetness of the nectar overpowers it. The sugars hit your empty stomach and already you feel strength return to your muscles. Your sweat soaked bodice is clinging to your skin quite uncomfortably and you unlace the front. Your breasts flop out and flow over the unlaced top. Almost instantly you feel notably cooler, and decide to strip off your top completely. After squeezing out as much sweat as you can, you wipe your chest and arms off before dropping the damp clothing on the ground.
You reach for the vine again, and stick the end in your mouth. You squeeze along the last two feet of the vine and suck at the nectar as it starts to hit your tongue. With a little effort, and some lung power you coax out a small mouthful of liquid and swallow hard. A little bit of the sweet nectar dribbles down your cheek and you mop it up with your index finger and suck it clean. Feeling refreshed, but still quite warm you undo the laces of your pants and let them drop to the ground before you step out of them.
Your body feels comfortable for the first time in days, perhaps even since deciding to take your chances in the deep forest. The vine still looks thick, and feels dense and likely still contains some of the nourishing liquid in it. You idly re-adjust your member in the simple cotton undergarment you still have on, and take a small pleasure in unbinding it. You wonder why you didn't as soon as you entered the woods, it isn't like there is anyone to judge you out here.
A second vine falls from somewhere in the canopy and lands on your shoulder, causing you to jump in surprise. Your heart pumps as you look above, trying to find some unseen danger. After several moments you realize that there is nothing coming for you and look at the other vine. It's quite obviously the same sort as the one you had been milking. Being fresher than the vine you first found, you decide to work some nectar out from it as well. With much less trepidation, you grip the end of the vine in your mouth and manage to suck and rub out another good gulp of the liquid.
Having found the strength to continue on, you stretch your arms and limber up your legs. You decide to just carry your damp clothing, hoping that they dry out before the night chill comes. When you stand back up, four of the vines now dangle around you. A brilliant idea pops into your head now, take a vine with you as well. You don't know when you might find something to drink again, let alone something as vitalizing as the nectar. Pulling out the machete from your clothing bundle, you look at the vines, choosing the plumpest one for your target.
You swing the blade, but it never reaches your target as one of the other vines darts in and wraps around your wrist! The blade falls to the ground, and you struggle at the vines with your free hand for mere moments before another vine binds it and roughly pulls your arm back to the side. Struggle as you might, you can free neither arm from the plant's grasp. Fighting the tentacles does seem to have caused even more of them to fall from the canopy.
Your legs are ripped out from under you and you close your eyes as the ground approaches. Two more of the vines wrap around your midsection and instead of hitting the ground, you are yanked upwards. Now you dangle about ten feet in the air, and the vines pull painfully on your limbs. As you cease your struggles, the vines slacken too, and you find the position to almost be comfortable.
The vines continue to shift you around, until you see a large pitcher pod. You begin to struggle on the vines as you approach the pod, head first. The vines holding your wrists pull your arms back with a yank, and cross your back, leaving your arms stuck behind your back. As hard as you fight, you can do nothing to keep the plant from dunking your head into the deep pitcher. You shake and thrash for several seconds, then one of the vines dangles into the pod and forces your mouth open. You cough and gag as the liquid rushes in.
Somehow, the liquid is even thicker and sweeter than the nectar you squeezed from the vines. It's actually wonderful tasting, and you start swallowing it by the mouthful. You are removed from the pod before you manage to drown yourself swallowing the thick, whitish liquid. Your tongue frantically darts around your lips trying to get the dribbling traces before they fall back into the pod.
You continue to hang over the pitcher, completely at the mercy of the vines. Right now though, the only thought in your head is if the plant will let you have more of the thicker liquid. Gradually a burning ache manifests in your chest. Still able to move your head around, you see that your breasts are enlarging before your eyes. You cry out in pain, to no response, as your breasts inflate to the size of your head.
As quickly as it began the pain subsides, you are left admiring your newly enlarged breasts. You are quickly distracted again though, this time the same pain from a few moments ago building in your girlballs. Your eyes water and you bite your lip. Your undergarment strains, and rips before floating to the ground. As the pain subsides, you think you can just see your balls poking out from behind your breasts.
Between the pain, and the fascination with your expanding anatomy you fail to notice more of the vines. A pair of them snake around your breasts, kneading and squeezing them, small waves of pleasure rippling outward. Slow, delicate drops of milk form at your nipples before falling to the ground at the base of the plant.
The plant pulls your legs further apart, and a vine pressed firmly at your ass. The vine pushes in unceremoniously and you open your mouth to scream. No sound leaves your mouth, as a vine darts back in, a slow flow of the nectar oozing down your throat. The vine in your ass probes around and rubs, as pleasurable as the vines rubbing and massaging your breasts.
A final vine falls across your huge balls, if you had the ability or mind left to laugh, you would have found it ticklish. It coils around the delicate girlprick sticking out awkwardly from the extra large girlnuts dangling off you. Between the vine in you and the vine slowly stroking you, you find yourself taken quickly to the edge. Your cheeks start to burn from being left before the point of orgasm.
All you can do now is relax in the grasp of the plant, overwhelmed in the ecstasy of near release. Drops of precum land and mingle with the milk and seep down to the roots of the plant. You can conceive of nothing else than being milked, slowly adding nutrients to your captor, as a feed of the body altering, mind numbing nectar oozes down your throat.