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Today had started simple enough. Suit up, step outside, and gather samples away from the research base. He had gone out with a partner, as it was always safer with a pair out here. The Natives were never explicitly hostile. But being the unique life forms that they were, their curiosity could lead to trouble.

And in the early days of discovering this world, there was trouble. The plant and spore based biology of the Natives did not bode well when combined with off-world viruses. Early contact was messy and almost ended in disaster. But that was all decades ago. Since then, through as of yet classified data, an engineering team discovered a way to immunize the Natives to outside spores and likewise, make their own toxic biology safe to travelers.

But this world was always rather colourful in its risks. The tens of thousands if not millions of varying, sentient plant based life forms could interact with travelers from beyond their world in safety. But that didn't mean the risks were absent. Spores, and an almost uncountable number of plant based funguses and beneficial bacteria's could be found here.

This world was a lush, vibrant, hyper growth of constantly evolving plant life. The scientific community always liked this world. And in the recent decades with new breakthroughs, the world became a carefully managed tourist hotspot. Tourist season was over now however due to the risks of local biology. At the end of every season on this world, what could only be described as "spore season" took place. The mating habits of the Natives and simple plant life took place.

Which was mainly why he and his partner wore exo-environmental suits. Of course, that didn't seem to be helping now. The day was normal until they bumped into a Native. Being the odd biology that they were, Natives were incapable of speaking, instead having acute senses to detect body language and using their leaves or other appendages to display colour. They were silent and their method of communication to outside species was still untranslatable.

But the Native they came across looked injured. Leaves displaying colours that were washed out, as if it were dying. And that was their mistake. Both of them stepped over to see if they could help and that's were everything fell apart. Vines grabbed his colleague from out of the thick foliage to drag her off before he could even do anything.

And the Native he stepped over sprung her trap. The ground under his feet, looking like dirt or plant life, sprang up and around him in a trap that completely surrounded him in thick walls of tough plant skin. It was too high to jump and impossible to climb out of as the walls were smooth. Above him leered the Native. Behind her, plant flesh flattened and broadened to create a wide, encompassing leaf like trap door that sealed the pod he was now trapped in.

She, and he used she, since she was a common variant of some of the now human biology mimicking plant life, remained up on the roof of the trap, watching him. Taking a quick peek he could see that she was attached to a large stem of sorts that remained hidden underground until she obviously sprung her trap. The stem ran up along the walls of the green pod he was trapped in and over the lip, giving her the freedom to lean down into the pod if she wanted to.

But right now those dark beady eyes watched in silence as the pod began flushing something into it. A thick green liquid that quickly began to overflow above his knees. It stuck to his suit and warning lights flared in his visor as he was notified of breaches. It was corrosive.......

His suit had powerful hydraulics in it capable of being rerouted to key areas of his body in case of emergency but they were already corroded beyond use as the walls of the pod sprayed more of the corrosive substance down on him. His visor cracked and splintered and his suit fractured and fell apart into shambles. Stinging fluid could be felt on his skin as he was exposed but before any damage could be done the Native above him moved her arms, splintering them into long snaking vines that wrapped around him and pulled him up to safety.

This was the problem with Natives. Their beneficial natural biology and ecosystem made them curious of outsiders and keen on sharing. Whether one wanted to or not. He couldn't help but sigh with relief as he was pulled out of the corrosive fluid down below. Thank the stars she wasn't carnivorous. That temporary relief faded as the black beady eyes of the native watched him and she tilted her head.

This was a new variant. More human features. He could make out some semblance of something that looked like a nose and was surprised when a lower portion of her green leathery skin split apart to emulate a mouth of sorts. As that mouth opened dust shot out from it straight into his face and he was helpless not to inhale it.

The reaction of the spores was immediate. He felt dizzy. His entire system was drugged and the strength in his muscles faded. He wasn't going anywhere now. He wasn't going to fight or resist in any way. And he suddenly noticed that it was hot inside the pod. Sunlight bore down through the green walls and it felt like a furnace in here. The Native closed her mouth and watched him back with her beady eyes.

The colours of her leaves had changed now, from looking dead and damaged to a bright red. His head was hazy but he recognized the meaning. This Native was designed for interactions with other species. Somewhere in his hazy mind panic went off as he looked down. The large green orbs, thick and leathery and bright in green shades that emulated a human woman became active.

The ends of those pods opened up to reveal bright red flowers that caught the attention of his eyes. Sap leaked from them and splashed across his clothes. On skin contact he felt relaxed. Hot and flushed. Oh no......

He had heard the stories. Natives were notorious for this. And this one was a new variety. He didn't know what was going to happen now. All he knew was that he was trapped in this pod. And the Native had only one intent in mind.

Spore season.

The illusively strong vines of the Native's arms ripped apart what remained of his suit and dropped it into the corrosive fluid below, and in no time at all ripped through his simple clothes and discarded them as well. When everything had dissolved in the toxic soup below him, it was all suddenly flushed away as the large pitcher he was stuck in shuddered, opening its sides and letting the corrosive fluid flush free.

That was it then. This Native was perfectly evolved for this. That fluid would stay outside her pitcher as a warning area to any trying to interrupt her. He was in trouble. Admittedly, the stories and tales told of the Natives and their habits were......mildly interesting to him. They never hurt their participants. In fact they played to the baser instincts of most species. And that was sex. The natives were intelligent no doubt.

Not enough to build starships or technology. But they were so adaptable that they didn't need to. And they figured out that one of the best ways to interact with foreign aliens was sex. It was simple minded really. Play to what a species likes. But sadly, Natives didn't grasp the concept of privacy or "too soon."

He wasn't scared. He knew now that she wouldn't hurt him. But at the same time he wasn't comfortable. He was completely naked and being handled by the vines of the Native above him. But that discomfort began to change. He was already sluggish, drugged from the spores he'd received earlier. But as bright red flowers bloomed on the back of the Native he knew what would come next.

Worry left him. And he felt good. The vines relinquished him and he was set gently down in the pod, into a new substance. It felt cool on his skin and mildly sticky. Refreshing. A change from the sweltering furnace of the pitcher he was trapped in. More spores to drug him and relax him.

The native moved now, lowering herself down into the pod with him from the flexible vine like stem she was attached to. Another flower, bright and red bloomed at the center of her hips revealing the imitation plant organs of a woman to him. But something else. Oh boy. He forgot about that. Biological sex was a confusing concept to Natives. Separate sexes were alien to them.

As well as having the plant equivalent of female parts, a rather large plant equivalent to male biology emerged. Looking softer than the tougher leathery green of her outside "skin," it emerged quickly, standing out to him like the rest of her sexual orientated parts, shades of red and green mixed together. It was smooth and tipped with a simple point, just a simple appendage made for entering.

The native made a show for him by running vines along her body, wrapping and coiling around the nutrient sacks that passed for breasts, gripping her male organ and stroking, and parting the green folds of her female organ. He flushed at the sight and grew hot quickly. The spores had drugged him completely now. Some part of his rational mind was still there, thinking.

It was spore season. It was called a season for a reason. It wasn't just a few days. It was a few solid months. And this pitcher, was a trap to contain. Her nutrient sacks, those large green orbs that Natives so often liked to use on people, were much heavier and larger than others he had seen.

She was built to do this for extended periods.......

Not only was she built to do this for extended periods but the Native wasted no time. Her own biology was on reproduction overdrive so teasing or introducing him slowly to herself never happened. He was drugged and she was ready. Her form moved over to his and her arms split into more vines, snaking across his body as he laid down in the pool of liquid in the pitcher.

What was left of his logical mind sarcastically sighed. She was stroking her male organ and was lining it up with the only option that presented itself to her. Great. He got the one that didn't quite get the idea. Bright red sap oozed from her flexible organ and she moved in. Well, the spores had him covered. And it's not like anybody was around to watch this. Nothing he could do anyway now but sit back and let her do what she pleased.

The flexible organ oozed more sap and she pressed her shapely hips forward, and suddenly, everything changed. There was no pain. No discomfort at all. The bright red organ slipped in all the way and her hips hilted at his. His nerves fired up like a Christmas tree but pain was completely absent. The spores.....they'd changed too. In a drugged haze he pinched himself slowly.

Total biology override. His nerves didn't feel pain. In fact they felt good. That felt good to him. Her being hilted all the way in him in one smooth thrust felt good. He could feel everything but none of it was bad. Her soft organ pulsed and constantly leaked sap that made him feel even better. It coated his insides in a soothing warmth. The Native wrapped her vines around his hips and pulled back.

And then she slid in once more. The firing of nerves sent waves of pleasure up his spine as she pulled out, and slid back in. Red sap coated everything and made interaction easier and in little to no time at all her hips bucked into his, slapping and sloshing as sap and the fluid of the pool down below merged together in a sticky mess. All he could do was lean his head back in pleasure as the Native bucked her gentle hips into his.

But the Native was always keen to explore. Vines snaked across him and moved, and found purchase around his own organ, gripping it tightly and caressing him as she bucked her hips and ground herself into him repeatedly. Leaves shuddered on the Native as her beady eyes watched him and he felt it. She bucked her hips once more and released. He felt every pulse as her flexible organ expanded and sent wave after wave of sap through it, spilling into him and drugging him further.

The spores in his system and his altered nervous system sent spiraling ripples through him and it drove him mad. The stroking of her vines on top of everything was too much and he came to a screaming end of pleasure, the Native quivering and watching as he sprayed his own seed out. Her organ stayed hilted, continuing to pulse repeatedly, expanding and retracting as lumps of sap filled him.

She pulled free easily, her organ coated in red sap and still continuing to spew it in pulses. He watched as its length expanded as a bulge traveled down the soft plant like shaft and exploded out, spraying him thoroughly in red sap. As he laid against the wall of the pitcher he couldn't help but smile. Returning the favor she was.

The Native retreated, backing away from him and letting him rest briefly. He was breathing heavily and sweating now, coated in dampness from being in this trap with her, along with all the other saps and fluids exchanged. His heart was on overdrive, threatening to beat too fast. As he calmed the Native pressed closer once more, vines coiling around him and pulling him up gently to rest against her.

Even simple movement, simple presses and squeezes caused her large green orbs to leak sap. Wherever it touched him his body cooled, and mildly felt irritated. He was lost in haze of her trap now and didn't bother fighting her. His lips found the center of one of her bright red flowers on those tender orbs and found a mildly bitter taste on his mouth. It was cooling and refreshing and the bitterness woke him up.

Calmed his body down and relaxed his heart. He understood. The Natives were getting so good at this that they could kill you with sex if they wanted. But that wasn't her goal. She wanted him to mate with. She would take care of him in this pitcher. He just wondered what would happen now.

How long would she use him?

He already felt like he'd run a marathon. And he remembered the intoxicating pulses of her organ. That was a lot of sap. Unknown to him, the Native watched him closely. Other parts of her body became active now and began moving. This was just the warm up phase. She always liked a little interaction first. Now she was going to do what she really wanted.

Pollinate.

The pitcher he was in quivered, and the large expansive leaf covering its top opened. More vines slid downwards and snaked into the pitcher with him and the Native, before the leaf canopy closed. This was different. The vines that snaked closer to him were different. They seemed softer. Highly flexible. The Native wrapped her own arm vines around him and slid him close.

Her organ was still flushed bright red and it stood tall. As was his. Her vines snaked up to his as she pressed her hips up to him, sliding her organ up against him. Vines coiled tightly around the both of them, binding them together. The tight grip caused him to gasp and he felt sap from her own member leak out in beads across his. He flushed again and grew hot as she carefully begin to twist her vines and rub her hips, grating her organ with his.

The spores in his system set his nerves on fire as he wanted to buck his own hips with her, rubbing against the soft material of her own organ. But she had other plans it seemed. The vines from the outside of the pitcher coiled themselves around his waist, legs and arms, and held him still as she continued to grind herself against him. The spores she was constantly releasing from the bright flowers on her back, and the combined sticky, hot saps that splashed down on him from every part of her body were heightening his own biology.

Pain was absent and replaced with pleasure. Where he would spend himself and reach a climax, releasing seed out to the world to mix in with the saps, water, and other fluids in the bottom of the pod, his own production system had gone into overdrive. She wanted him to cum. As he felt another wave pass over him, he gasped as her vines suddenly tightened around him, even wrapping themselves around the base of his organ, cupping and squeezing.

He was denied. Trapped at his peak. His heart jumped and the feeling of pleasure wanting to release itself drove him into a fit but the vines held him back. And now, the strange outside vines moved. One vine reared itself up, and began manipulating itself, stretching and thinning itself out to thin and wiry vine. It snaked over to him and suddenly he knew.

He squirmed as his peak was held at bay constantly, as the vine reared itself down lower, coming to rest at his tip. It wasn't......why would she need to do-

She released her grip on him and as he came to yet another climax, the small vine snaked downwards, pressing further and further against the opposing torrent she had held back. Nerves lit up as the vine snaked downwards, but his altered system registered no discomfort. In fact as the vine traveled down, he felt it, every inch and new nerve that lit up until at last, it stopped. His own seed forced itself out until it stopped, and the small vine remained embedded down his shaft.

His senses were on fire, with every twitch of the vine, every small movement that normally would have told him that this should not be happening, that this intruder should not be pressed into him so deeply and in such an a place, it brought him spikes of pleasure that almost sent him over the edge. The Native's arm vines naturally coiled and tightened slowly, and he felt everything light up.

He was powerless in the grip of her vines but he wouldn't have struggled anyway. It was too much pleasure. All he could do was sit back in joy. And then he gasped, releasing another torrent of his own seed out as the vine embedded into him twisted like a cork screw, pulling out as it did, before thrusting back in. The air was hot and sticky again as all he could do was gasp and close his eyes.

On opening them, to watch the sight of the thin vine thrust itself down his shaft and twist like a corkscrew, he saw it. Travelling along the vine in lumps. The stretchy material of the vine expanded in bulges as something was pumped down it. He shook his head, struggling, trying to find words for no. Not no as in please stop. No as in it would feel too good.

He watched, as the vine continued thrusting and twisting, as the bulges made their way along and then made their final descent down the snake like vine. That Native's leaves quivered and her beady eyes watched him. Her own organ had since stopped grating against his and now pressed itself against him. Underneath her through the collected pool of saps and fluids another vine snaked, thicker than the first one embedded down his shaft. It lined itself up with her own organ and waited.

She was waiting. Watching the slow bulges travel down the vine. Waiting for the moment. His heart spiked and his gasps were short. The first bulge traveled down, coming to rest at his tip. The vine stopped thrusting, now slick with his own cum, as it shot straight down and hilted. He reared his head back as the first bulge pressed against his tip, and he felt the vine inside of him expand, just slightly enough to accommodate what the Native was now going to be pumping down him.

And then it slipped in. He could only gasp or yell as nerves lit up again, and he felt warmth. Heat traveled down him, and a small visible bulge could be seen traveling down his shaft. And without hesitation the vine pumped. More bulges pushed past his tip and a row of bead like protrusions made their way down as he was stretched.

The Native bucked her hips, pressing her organ to him and sliding in as she oozed sap, and the second vine, forced itself in alongside her. Larger bulges could be seen snaking along this vine as they too made their way to him, before the vine expanded to accommodate them. The Native bucked her hips and pumped torrents of red sap into him alongside the bulges of the large vine.

The small vine pumped a seemingly never ending stream of fluid into him, and he felt it bottom out at the end of his shaft and start to fill things. Pleasure spiked so high that he was set off repeatedly, forcing his seed out as hers was pumped in. The Native bucked her hips and the fluid in the pitcher splashed as her vines tightened around him. Every wave of her seed could be felt inside of him as it passed along and then bottomed out, creating a pulsing rhythm that set his nerves off like bombs of pleasure.

His eyes rolled and he passed out.

But the Native continued to pollinate him.

Time disappeared for him. Day or night, it didn't matter. Tropical rain or blaring sun, he didn't care. He was trapped in the pitcher with the Native, trapped in cycles. The Native would use him. Ream him and send vines down places they shouldn't be. Fill him up over and over again until his stomach swelled and he couldn't take anymore. Her own seed overflowed from his shaft and other places, and she withdrew.

She fucked him into a stupor in the day, filling his system up and then letting him rest in the night as she slowed down. The fluids collected in the pitcher filled, keeping him trapped in a soup of aphrodisiacs so that even while she rested in the night he couldn't escape. His biology was altered by the spores. He recovered faster. Pleasure was everything.

Her nutrient sacks slowly shrunk as he was fed sap from them, packed with nutrients to feed him and keep him healthy. In the torrential rainfall water seeped down and was collected on special leaves that opened on the inside of the pitcher pod. He was kept clean. He was kept fed and well taken care of.

And in return, the Native pollinated him. It kept up like this in cycles. Every day something new and carnal. The Native wasn't opposed to using her other parts. And she herself quivered from stimulation as leaves blushed brighter shades of red. He was locked in pleasure and all he wanted to do was be used. Filled up, left to rest, and then resume.

Whatever her seed was, by the end of the night his body absorbed it entirely, being free to be pumped and filled again. And some days, when he could manage the pleasure overload, he used her. Gripped her supple flesh tightly, gentle, squishy greens that were smooth and soft like gentle leather. Made her leaves shake and tremble as her vines snaked around him and filled him.

It was such a state of pleasure that the Native even pollinated herself. Sending her own vines down her shaft as she simultaneously ground it against his and pollinated him at the same time. Spore season wound on and he was trapped in the pitcher pod, of course, no longer at this point trapped but happy to participate.

But eventually the month long season came to an end. And as the Native's sex drive wound down, her bright reds changing to a dull red that was barely noticeable, her green going a darker shade, one day the pitcher plant unfolded around him after it absorbed the collection of fluids in it and he was released.

Spores were released from her that returned him to normal functions, snapping him back to reality as if he'd just woken up from a very long night of drinking. The Native folded her Pitcher plant closed, resting inside as the large thing uprooted itself, vines and all, before affectionately patting him on the head as it strode off into the undergrowth.

He was unsure what to do now. He'd been gone a month. He'd have to walk out of the jungle back to the base naked after a month of lost contact. And then he remembered.

What in the stars had happened to his partner?

He strode off in the direction he had last seen her as she was dragged off into the jungle elsewhere. This was spore season. Reports came in every year of missing people. But since then it was a custom not to take them seriously. The Natives always took care of their partners.

For them this was just standard, every day garden variety interactions with aliens.

He mused on it as he moved through the jungle, searching for his partner.

Not a bad thing, really. If anything the Natives helped in many ways. He thought about it. His partner. They got along fine together. She was a friend and co-worker. And after this no doubt, they'd have stories to tell.

And if he was lucky, she was caught by a different Native. Her entire body would be carrying another set of spores. He smiled at the idea almost as if some remnant of the aphrodisiacs remained in his system.

It wouldn't hurt to clean both of their systems out and pollinate those spores now would it?