The Scent of a Flower
By Leem
Illustrated by LadyKraken

AUTHOR’S NOTE:
Skip to story

This is the third story I have written based on the “Flora and Fauna” concept I first came up with way back in 2007. The previous stories, Flora and Fauna and Love Among the Flowers [male subject], deal with human visitors, female and male respectively, each of whom lands on an alien planet where the natives have a strange relationship with giant flowers. When they investigate more closely they soon find themselves intimately co-opted into that relationship - whether they like it or not.

In this story (which takes place on a world that might be the same one depicted in the second story, or possibly just one of millions of planets that closely resemble it) I have attempted to depict events from the point of view of a native tribeswoman. She of course lacks the scientific knowledge to understand how the flowers’ partnership with her People works, but is smart enough to figure out the essentials for herself... once it’s too late...

I imagine there may be some botanical expert out there who can tell me why the life-cycles I have devised for the giant flowers in these stories is totally impossible. If so, I’d be very grateful if that person would please keep quiet about it. Thank you.

By the way, I seem to have used an awful lot of Oxford commas in this story.
I hope nobody thinks I’ve gone overboard with them.

Thanks to LadyKraken for the fantastic illustrations.
Follow the link for her Deviantart page and commission information.

Hail to You, O Gods. You know all things, all that has occurred since the beginning of the world. Compared to that, my tale is a small thing indeed, yet for my own sake I find myself compelled to tell it. Forgive me, then, for relating what You already know, for as You know, I can no longer tell anyone else.

Well, then: I am Rrhela, daughter of Jirrha, of the Three Meadows clan. Our village is set in the eastern part of a large river valley with hills and forests to the north and west and a great grassy plain that runs south as far as the eye could see. Far to the west stand sloping mountains, huge and grey in the hazy distance. The taller peaks are tipped by a curious white stuff that I heard somebody call snow, though I never learned what that was. There is also a forest to the east, although as a child I was not told what lay beyond, for reasons you shall hear.

Many villages sat within walking distance of our own, and during the fertile season there was much trade between them. Sometimes my parents would be part of a trading party, and several of us children would help to carry baskets of fruit, herbs, woven goods and carved dolls to a nearby village, where the grown-ups would leave us in the care of their elders. Then we would snack on the local fruit, play with the local children and exchange childish gossip, while our parents negotiated trade terms with the older villagers. Of course, at other times traders from other villages visited ours with their children.

It was not until I was older that I realised much of this “negotiation” actually consisted of mating. At the time I always wondered why trading a few baskets of goods made our parents so happy. There was never any conflict between villages, probably because of all the mating that took place between them. My parents taught me an old saying: “It is foolish to fight one who could be a friend.” (As an adult I came to understand that “friend” also implied “mate”, because the two words usually meant the same thing.)

When we were a little older, my friends and I became aware that the warmer season would bring with it a curious scent, seemingly from whatever was behind those eastern woods. It was not unpleasant, but as a child it held no special meaning for me. However, on the morning it first arrived, all the adults of the village seemed to enter trances. First they would carelessly unfasten their clothes, if they happened to be wearing any, letting them fall where they would. Then they all walked away eastward to the forest and whatever awaited them beyond.

We younger children were left in the care of the older ones until the day was almost done. Then the scent would fade and soon after the adults would return, looking tired, but just as happy as when they finished trading with outsiders. Of course, we youngsters were curious as to where they had been, but they just told us we must wait until we were old enough to find out for ourselves.

This continued through the hot season, although as the season wore on the scent seemed to lessen. Then fewer adults followed it each day, though the ones who stayed behind took it in turns to do so.

In due time, as we grew and our bodies began to mature, my friends and I became aware of carnal matters. We had many questions, which our parents and their friends answered as fully as they could.

When they judged us old enough, they let us observe them mating in the village grounds; men with women, women with women, men with men. So many different kinds of mating, although they had told us only the first kind could make babies. It was a beautiful sight, and we watched in fascination, using our hands to coax pleasure from our own bodies. A few of the adults who were taking part kept watch, to make sure none of us tried to pleasure each other. I confess, for all of us the temptation was great, but the fear of disappointing our parents was always greater.

From then on, self-mating became a regular part of our lives. So long as we did not touch, we were allowed to watch each other pleasuring ourselves, and to discuss the most enjoyable ways of doing so. If touching ourselves brought so much joy, how much better touching each other must be! We had come to realise the mysterious scent was something to do with mating, and that was why the grown-ups never spoke of it to us. It became another thing we were impatient to experience.

In the meantime, the work of the village went on. Hunting, fishing, gathering, growing, guarding the village against wild animals, weaving, sewing, dye-making, dyeing, cooking, cleaning, repairing, weapon-making, child-minding, hairstyling and cutting, teaching, toy-making; all of the grown and many of the near-grown members of the tribe, including myself, took part in these activities according to their abilities.

Then once again the warm season would come, and off the naked adults would go of a morning, leaving the younger folk to pick up their clothes and tend the village until they returned. During this time we had to take on most of the work, but we did not mind. It passed the time, and every day that passed brought us closer to our comings of age, and the hot seasons when we would finally join the naked band and discover the truth for ourselves.

There is one thing I have not yet mentioned. Pray forgive me, o Gods, for using a storyteller’s trick that I believe is called “holding back”.

Near the end of each hot season the scent would begin to fade, but from time to time there would be a stronger burst and one or two adults would walk out to meet it. Some of those adults never returned. When I asked why this was, my mother told me many animals became aggressive at that time of year, making it dangerous to venture outside. Sadly, those affected by the scent could not resist doing so, and had probably been eaten. If it was any comfort, their trance state might have prevented them feeling fear or pain.

I was saddened by this, but accepted it as fact. There was no deception in mother’s voice. She spoke of several friends who had vanished over the years. We could at least be assured they were now safe in the embrace of the Gods, and enjoying heavenly mating that was beyond all mortal bliss.

Rrhela in the village Art by LadyKraken

After a few more years came a first day of hot season that felt no different from any other. I had been disappointed the year before. My body had by then blossomed into that of a woman, but mother had told me I was not yet of age. I had sighed and bowed my head in agreement, knowing what it would take to awaken my full womanhood. Surely it must come this year.

On the fateful day, I was dressed in a colourful loincloth that consisted simply of two long cloth triangles hanging from a waist cord. Between my breasts, now firm and shapely, I wore a shell necklace that my mother had worn, and many generations of tribeswomen before her. The story went that it had been traded from the distant Water’s Edge folk, more than a hundred hot seasons before, by way of many villages before reaching ours. I was proud to wear it and keep our family tradition alive.

Then, suddenly, a fresh breeze brought the mysterious scent to my nostrils, and now I knew I was truly a woman, because the scent overcame me until I could scarcely think. I had been carrying a basketful of garments from the weaver’s hut to the dyer’s, but now my hands, moving as of their own will, let go of the basket and the clothes fell into the mud.

My own clothing was next, as my arms reached down to my waist and undressed me. Helplessly, I watched my garment flutter to the ground. The garment was small, but it symbolised my modesty, and now it was gone, leaving me naked and embarrassed.

Finally, family tradition was forsaken, as my uncontrollable hands reached up and threw away my heirloom necklace. I hoped one of the children would retrieve it before it was trampled into the dirt. While my arms did these things, my legs were turning my body around and walking me toward the east gate. There I joined all the other naked villagers who were moving - or, it seemed, being moved - toward the forest.

I felt a surge of excitement knowing that I would soon learn where the scent came from. I was impatient to get there, but my legs refused to move faster than a slow, steady walk, keeping pace with the rest of the People. Our legs also refused to slow down or stop. We had no choice but to follow where the scent led us. All we needed was patience, for we would all arrive wherever we were going together.

I was at least able to look around and take pleasure in the sight of the beautiful bodies that surrounded me, as I fancy they were taking pleasure in mine. My embarrassment gradually turned to erotic anticipation, and my vagina grew moist. Most of the menfolk already had erections. Was the scent going to make us mate with each other? Would I remain helpless to control my body while it had its way with other villagers, and theirs with me? The thought was both frightening and exciting. It made me want to stroke myself furiously, but my arms hung limply at my sides while my legs walked and walked.

The big sun was almost halfway up the sky, warming the fronts of our tingling bodies as we strode eastward, and the small sun was just rising. A gentle breeze caressed our bare skins like a lover, arousing us even further. We moved steadily across the grassy meadow that lay to the east of the village, watched by a few curious animals. Occasionally one or two would come closer and sniff our bodies curiously. Possibly it was our silence that confused them, knowing how talkative People normally were. At any rate, they seemed to sense something different about us, but fortunately none of the meat-eaters seemed interested in feeding on us. That was just as well. In our entranced state we were incapable of defending ourselves. Perhaps the mystery scent itself was protecting us by masking our true smells. Who could tell?

Soon after, we walked into the shadow of the forest. Our bodies grew cooler, but not our arousal. We moved more slowly as we entered the forest itself, weaving our way between the close-set tree trunks and over roots, often steadying ourselves with our hands. We still had no control over these movements, but whatever was controlling us seemed to be using our eyes to help guide us safely through. Now it was the turn of small tree-dwelling creatures to inspect us, sometimes clambering over our bodies before departing. Their fur tickled us, increasing our arousal a little more. At least they chose not to scratch or bite any of us.

The scent continued to grow stronger as we approached, making me ever more anxious to meet its source. Finally we emerged from the trees into another sunlit meadow beyond, but instead of grass this was covered as far as I could see with giant flowers, larger than any I had seen before. They had no stalks, but rather seemed to grow straight from the ground. Their richly-patterned, red and yellow petals were presently closed into pointed oval shapes, taller than People, and about twice as broad all around. Each was surrounded by a ring of leaves about six paces across, sometimes overlapping those of neighbouring flowers.

As we drew close to the flowers, our bodies stopped walking. For a time, we all stood paralysed, unable even to turn our heads. The flowers were clearly the source of the scent, but what could they possibly have to do with mating? Trapped in almost unbearable arousal, I could do only wait to find out. Fortunately I did not have to wait long, for the flowers were beginning to open. Slowly, the thick petals lowered, and spread out onto the ground inside their leaf-rings, revealing what had been hidden within.

Now I knew why the flowers were so big. Standing at the centre of each was a green figure that looked like a life-sized naked doll. Some of the figures were male, some female.

At last I understood. The flowers grew these green figures in imitation of our shape, and produced the scent to lure us into mating with them.

Once the flowers were all fully open our legs reawakened and walked us each toward one of the dolls. I soon stepped onto one of the lowered petals in front of a green male. Apart from its colour, it looked very real. It even had realistic-looking eyes that seemed to be staring at me. I wondered if the flower could actually see me. Could a flower have a mind? Did it enjoy mating? I felt I would enjoy mating with it, choice or no choice.

The doll had the appearance of a handsome man, with a mossy green coat and leafy tendrils in place of a real man’s short brown fur and wavy hair. Its face held a bland expression, and its mouth was round and open. As my legs walked me to within touching distance I found myself able to move more freely. I was sure I could not choose to walk away, but anyway, now I was here I did not wish to.

First I ran my hands over the mossy chest, finding it warm and firm like a man’s. I stroked its arms, and found they were jointed like real arms. They would remain in whatever pose I placed them. I supposed all its joints must work the same way.

The doll boasted an impressively broad, upward-curling erection, and I explored it for a while with my fingers. I soon found that the skin at its head could slide back and forth like that of a real one. Feeling beneath I learned that its sac contained a pair of very real-seeming balls. When I stroked its underside the penis quivered. It astonished me that the flowers had been able to copy the form of our bodies so well. How many lifetimes of People had it taken them to perfect them?

It was finally time to find out just what mating with a flower felt like. The doll was standing, with its legs a little apart, upon a pair of short flexible stalks. I soon found it was possible to ease the whole thing back until it was lying face-up with a petal for its bed. It was not quite as heavy as a real man. Lying atop it, I took its hands and pressed them, fingers splayed, one against my back, the other my bottom. The moss on their palms and digits held on to my fur so they did not slide off. That felt nice. I slid my arms around its waist, began caressing its buttocks and eased myself down until its erection was deep into my vagina. It felt wonderful.

I began thrusting my hips up and down, and slid my tongue into its mouth. To my surprise, the mouth had no teeth or tongue of its own. It was just a long, moist cavity that could be penetrated by a tongue, a finger or a penis. Its moisture had a curious bittersweet taste that encouraged me to keep licking and sucking. Meanwhile the pleasure of mating with the green penis was greater than any I had been able to give myself. No doubt the flower-scent had much to do with that, but I knew I had now truly entered the adult world.

I was moaning and writhing with delight. Similar moans and gasps were coming from all around me. Out of the corner of my eye I could see a male, though I could not make out his face, who was mating with a reclining doll. He was eagerly thrusting his penis into its mouth while sucking its penis with his. Opposite him I could make out a pair of males who were mating with the anus and vagina of a standing doll, while caressing each other around its body.

Once I had started, the scent seemed to take hold of me again, so that I think I could not have stopped even if I wanted. My pleasure grew and grew while the big sun slowly climbed the sky, warming my back as I helplessly, endlessly, rose and fell, thrusting myself upon the green shaft that quivered and pulsed inside my moist vagina. Meanwhile I continued to lap the warm sap from the doll’s mouth and experienced an almost erotic pleasure as it slid smoothly down my throat. My whole body seemed made for pleasure, yet each time I felt sure I must orgasm soon my body proved me wrong and brought me to an even higher mountain of bliss.

It must have been almost high sun by the time I suddenly felt hot liquid burst into me from the doll’s penis, over and over again until it began to spill out from between our bodies. More sap, I supposed, imitating a man’s burst of seed. At the same time my pleasure blossomed into a long, intense rush of ecstasy, then another and another and another, on and on, no two ever quite the same, every one a blissful celebration of life and mating. I thanked the Gods for creating me so that I might experience such joy.

Sometime during my orgasm I became vaguely aware that the air around me had turned yellow, and I felt something warm and sticky settle on me. When my orgasm finally faded to a pleasant glow, and I was able to move for myself once more, I sighed, reached back and slid my hand over the fur of my back. Some of the sticky material clung to my palm. Pollen!

So, for the flower it had been about making seed after all. All of the dolls, whether male or female in appearance, were really the flowers’ penises. When we mated with them, we were actually masturbating them until they ejaculated pollen.

Of course, when a flower makes pollen it must be carried to another flower. The giant flowers were using People the way small flowers used flitterbugs, to carry their pollen between them. To do that, they needed to lure us with their scent and their green mating-dolls. They were using us for their own ends, and we could do nothing to resist. I wondered idly whether we ought to feel offended by that, but the answer was obvious. The pleasure we gained from them was so great I supposed we should thank them instead.

Yes, the pollen had to be taken to another flower. That must be why I felt my interest in my green mate suddenly wane, as an unstoppable urge to find another took hold of me. So I kissed him goodbye, withdrew myself from his permanent hardness, and raised him back to a standing position. As soon as I had done this, the scent took control again, giving me no time to find water and wash the moisture and sap from my body. No, because then I might have washed away some of the flower’s precious pollen.

My helpless legs walked me past many of my busy tribefolk and their inanimate partners, until I found myself facing a standing female doll from behind. A woman was kneeling before it, lapping sap from its vagina while stroking herself with one hand. My legs brought me to within touching distance of it, and then the scent again loosened its hold. I stepped forward and began to caress the doll’s breasts from behind while sliding my crotch slowly up and down one of its firm, round buttocks. They felt so real I might almost have been mating with a real person. Again, once I had decided how I was going mate with the doll, the scent robbed me of further choice and forced me to continue the same way, while the big sun climbed over the roof of the sky and began its slow descent toward the west.

Just like the first, my second flower-mating had me aching for orgasm while growing closer and closer, yet unable to reach it until the flower decided it was time. At long last I was finally overcome by sensations that were not quite as intense as the first time, but slower, longer, and more sensual. There was another burst of pollen that made me cough slightly. The other girl was gasping and moaning as she orgasmed while sap poured unto her mouth and pollen dusted her back. When we finally finished the scent released us and we took a little while to recover before withdrawing from the doll. As the other girl stood I saw that it was my friend Nherra, and we exchanged smiles. In a sense we had been mating each other through the plant-doll. For a few moments we kissed and stroked each others’ bodies before moving on.

The scent was not done with us yet. Taking hold of my legs, it walked me over to another male doll. I observed that its face, with its blank expression and staring eyes, looked just like the first one I met; in fact, so did its entire body. I supposed once the flowers had perfected a pattern for male and female bodies, there was no need to change it. While I stepped forward and began to stroke its chest, my male friend Unnhe arrived and started caressing its back and bottom. We exchanged a friendly glance, then I eased myself onto the doll’s penis. Meanwhile Unnhe slid his own penis into the doll’s anus. We rocked back and forth, at the same time running our hands slowly over the green mossy body as well as each others’ arms. Once our pattern of our movement was set, the scent took us over again. We continued, incapable of doing anything else but moan, until the big sun was almost halfway to the western horizon and we and the flower orgasmed.

Even then the flowers had not finished with us. Next my legs brought me to an unaccompanied female doll. I presed my body against it, sliding my nipples and crotch against its own, while lapping nectar from its mouth and stroking its nicely-curved bottom. The air slowly turned cooler as evening approached, and by the time I finished my fourth orgasm the day was beginning to redden.

The scent faded. The flowers had finally had their fill of us for this day. We were able to move of our own will. As the huge petals began to close about the green dolls, we sighed and slowly made our way back through the grove and into the forest. We had to be cautious because the light within was dim, but we all managed to get through with only a few minor scrapes and bruises.

We walked across the meadow toward the village, the distant mountains looming beyond. Their shadows reached toward us as the big sun sank toward them, but we still had enough light to see our way, for the small sun at this season still had a way to go before setting and two of the moons were rising full, close together behind us in the eastern sky. Now the scent was gone we kept watch in case there were any dangerous animals about. The scent had made us set out unarmed, and none of us could fight a hungry beast with their bare hands.

Fortunately there seemed to be no creatures about, and we soon arrived at the stream that ran past our village. We were all thirsty in spite of the plant-sap we had drunk, so we went upstream to the drinking-place. Then we all went downstream to relieve our bladders and bowels. Our bodies were sticky with sap and pollen, to speak nothing of our own juices, so last we all went to the washing-place midstream and bathed ourselves clean before shaking ourselves as dry as we could. Thus refreshed, we strode back to the village, where several of the near-grown were guarding the gates.

As soon as they opened the gates, a horde of smaller children rushed up to us. “Hey, where’d you all go?” demanded one of them, with all the petulance of youth. I believe her name was Nnhuri. “And why did you all take your clothes off? We had to pick them all up out of the mud and help wash them again. We keep asking the older kids where you went, but they just say we’ll find out when we get older.”

I smiled and replied. “And so you will. I’m afraid you’ll just have to be patient, but I promise you won’t be disappointed. And I’m sorry you had to wash the clothes. Tomorrow we won’t put them on. We’ll leave them in our huts.”

“You’re going again tomorrow?” she cried in disbelief.

“Yes, and for many days after. You know this happens every hot season, don’t you?”

“I suppose,” she pouted.

Just then a smaller boy ran up to me with something in his hands. “Um, you’re Rrhela, aren’t you? I think this is yours.”

My necklace! I breathed a huge sigh of relief as I saw it was undamaged. I knelt down and kissed him in thanks. That was another thing I would be leaving safe in the hut next day.

An older girl named Khinrha announced that the evening meal was being prepared, and we thanked her and made our way to the courtyard where a fire was already blazing in the centre.

All of the adults gathered around the fire. We spent some time turning before it to dry ourselves further, then sat basking in its glow. Unnhe and Nherra were seated on either side of me, and we quietly stroked each others’ backs.

“I never imagined it could be so good,” I sighed. Nherra bowed in agreement, but something seemed to be troubling Unnhe. “Is something wrong?” I said.

Unnhe seemed to struggle for the right words. “Well... maybe not wrong, exactly. I mean, you’re right, it was better than I could ever have imagined.But the flowers... well, they own us now, don’t they? When they call us we have to obey. There’s nothing we can do to resist. Nothing.”

Nherra said, “Well... if that’s true, is it really such a bad thing? They get pollen and we get orgasms. And being under their spell, being unable to stop myself... well, somehow it made it more exciting for me. Didn’t you feel that too?”

“It did for me too,” I added.

“Well... yes, it did. Only... oh, I don’t know.”

“And anyway,” I said, “this has been happening for as long as anyone can remember, probably since the world began, in every village in the world. All the People in all the world, serving the flowers through all of the past, and all time to come as well. So... if it’s always happened, how can there be anything bad about it? The flowers don’t control us all the time, and when they’re not, we can do whatever we want. It’s not like they really do us any harm, is it?”

“I suppose not,” he said. “It’s just... oh, I don’t know. It’s as if there’s something just at the back of my mind and no matter how I try I can’t bring it forward. It’s like having a bit of food stuck in my back teeth that I can’t shift.”

“Well, maybe if you stop trying to force it, it’ll just come to you. That’s what usually happens when I’m trying to remember something.”

“And speaking of food,” I said.

The older children had arrived, bearing wooden platters laden with cooked and uncooked vegetables. Our talk turned to food and other gossip, because the youngsters were not ready to hear about the flowers yet. The hunters had been with the flowers all day, so the lack of meat was hardly surprising. We had no complaints, though. The near-grown had done a very good job, and by the end nothing was left over, so we thanked them and told them we would tidy up, and they went to bed content.

Once they had retired, I stood and stretched. Despite all the mating we had enjoyed with the flowers, we were not tired. In fact, I felt even more aroused than before, if that was possible, and so it seemed did all the others. Without a word, Nherra embraced and kissed me, and we moved into a tight embrace. Slowly we swayed together, our lips, breasts and clitorises moving eagerly against each other. I was thrilled that she had chosen me as her first real mate. If she had not asked me, I would have asked her. All the other adults were also embracing in twos and threes, revelling in the freedom to move and mate as they wished.

Nherra and I did not take so long to orgasm as we had under the flowers’ spell, and when we did it was less powerful, but we did not mind. For the flowers, mating was all about pollen. For us it was about love, and so for a while afterwards we simply gazed into each others’ faces in the firelight, gently caressing.

Then Unnhe asked Nherra to mate with him, and I smiled and watched them and masturbated for a while, until I was approached by a woman named Illhu, who was a year or two older than me. She was holding something in her hands that she seemed eager to show me.

The object proved to be a hardnut shell with some small holes punched through its top. Something inside was buzzing and rattling, like an angry insect.

“What is it?” I asked her. “At this time, have you come to show me your bug collection?”

She grinned. “Not ‘show’ exactly,” she said. “This is an idea my mother told me about when I first became a woman. What you do is, take a fresh nut off the tree and prise open the two halves. Once you’ve eaten the nut, you put some turra leaves in the bottom of the shell and set it down near a moonbeetle nest. Meanwhile, you poke some holes in the top with a sharpened piece of hardwood, then take a little vel-tree resin and run it around the rim. Once two or three beetles have taken the bait, you quickly close the top of the nut over them, and the resin sticks the two halves together so they can’t get out. They’ll be all right for a while with the leaves to eat, and the holes let them breathe.”

“All right,” I said, “but what’s the use of all this?”

Her grin widened. “Simple. The beetles buzz like mad as they try to escape. Here, feel it.”

I did. The nut was shaking furiously as the trapped bugs rattled their wing-cases. “Feels funny,” I said.

Illhu laughed. “Well, see how funny it feels against your clitoris.”

“Ohh,” I said, my eyes widening. My eyes widened even further when I did as she suggested. The buzzing insects were making my clitoris shake, and the sensation was astonishing. Illhu had another nut which she pressed against her own crotch, and then the two of us just sat there for a long time moaning and gasping as the beetles unknowingly mated with us.

Orgasm came swiftly and suddenly and stayed long, becoming so strong I could not move or even moan. Finally it ended, diminishing slowly and gently, and I was able to sigh in pleasure and let the nut fall to my side.

“Your mother is a very clever woman,” I sighed. Illhu was not able to answer right away, for her own orgasm arrived that very moment and seemed to last just as long as mine had. She at least was able to moan a little, while I stroked her arms and breasts.

Once she was finally done, I kissed and thanked her. After a few moments we hugged, and mated without the help of the beetles, unhurriedly bringing each other to quieter, gentler orgasms. Afterward she broke open the nuts to let the confused and exhausted insects crawl away. “Thank you, beetles,” we called, as they made their departure.

“And thank you for that,” I said. “It was amazing.”

She smiled and kissed me. “Next time I’ll show you what you can do with a nelda-fruit,” she told me. Then Unnhe returned, and Illhu stroked his shoulder and left the two of us together.

Thus the evening wore on. I mated twice again with Unnhe and once with Nherra, and finally Nherra and I both mated with another male of our own age named Arrhyu. By then it must have been nearly the middle of the night, and we all staggered exhaustedly back to our huts for some well-earned sleep.

Next morning the scent took us so swiftly we barely had time to finish our morning meal before our bodies walked us out of the gate. The children watched us depart with frustration in their eyes. I am sure we all felt for them, but what could we do?

That day the scent made me mate with five flower-dolls, three male and two female. Then, after returning home for the evening meal, I mated with four of my female and two of my male friends. It seemed as if my life - indeed, all of our lives - had become about nothing but mating. None of us had worn clothes since the first morning, and we were beginning to think we would spend the rest of the hot season naked.

My mother assured me, though, that once the first part of hot season was over the scent would weaken a little. When that time came, some of us would be able to resist it for a day or two at a time, and even get dressed. Those days we could spend hunting or helping the children with the work, each to their own skill. We would also be less aroused of an evening, so we might choose to forego the after-dinner orgy.

When that day finally came I was relieved to have escaped the endless round of orgasms, at least for a day or two. Enjoyable as they surely were, there were other things in life. Now I could dress up in my brightly-dyed loincloth and family necklace, and go about the normal tasks of village life with my modesty intact. I knew the next day, or the day after, the scent would call me once more, but at least my life now had a little balance.

By the middle of hot season, I think the flowers were calling us on about three days of every five, and calling different People on different days. When we were called, we were usually made to mate with four dolls a day, although sometimes it was five, and there was no pattern as to whether the dolls we mated with were male or female.

One evening, after I had mated with four dolls, I felt a scent take hold of me again, but this time it felt different: less strong, yet somehow more insistent. Under its power, my legs walked me swiftly to the edge of the flower-grove, where I saw a sight that shocked me. The scent that drove me was coming from a flower, but the flower was dying.

Its petals, and the ring of leaves that surrounded them, were withering and turning brown. The male doll at its heart was also shrunken. It barely reached as high as my knees, although it retained its lifelike shape, complete with erect penis.

Of course I knew the flowers and their dolls were mortal as any other living thing. I had heard it said they lived longer than People, perhaps many times as long, but sooner or later they must all come to this. Still, the sight made me very sad. What could the flower ask me to do for it now?

I soon found out. First, my body knelt beside the leaves and tore some of them loose. I wondered whether this would cause it any pain, but there was no way to know. Next, the scent made me, still holding the leaves, walk over to the shrunken doll and pull it free from its stalk. It was heavier than it looked, but not too heavy to carry. No longer mossy, its texture felt like a nutshell.

A nutshell. Yes! That was just what it was. The flower had used the doll to mate with other flowers, and once they had fertilised it, its doll had shrunk and hardened to become the seed of a new flower. Then, before the old flower died, it produced one last burst of scent, so that a person would take its seed and plant it.

My hands picked up the small doll and wrapped it in the leaves, as my body rose and began walking around the edge of the grove. The scent was becoming weaker and its hold on me was beginning to loosen, but now I knew what I had to do, and freely chose do it. I paused just beyond a leaf-ring and studied the distance from the centre of its flower to its edge. Then I paced that distance from the edge of the leaves, placed the leaf-wrapped doll on the ground beside me, and began to dig.

By now the scent was gone. I supposed that meant the old flower was dead. That made me all the more resolved to fulfil its dying wish. The other flowers were beginning to close, and once released from the scent some of the People noticed me and came to see what I was doing.

Some of them had planted flower seeds before, and they helped me to dig until the hole was deep enough. We dug with our bare hands. I had briefly toyed with the idea of using the hardened doll itself to dig with, but I did not wish to risk damaging it. When we were done, I carefully lowered the new seed into the ground with its cocoon of dead leaves. Their decay would fertilise the soil around it.

“Grow well, little seed,” I said, and we filled in the hole and tamped down the soil on top with our feet. Then, feeling satisfaction tinged with sorrow, we joined our friends and went home.

By the time hot season was more than half over, my friends and I must have mated with every adult in the village who was not a close relative. Not surprisingly, many of the females, including myself, began to show signs of pregnancy. Of course there were precautions we could have taken, and most of the older villagers had, but the rest of us relished the prospect of parenthood. I rubbed my still-flat belly and wondered whether my child would be male or female, and who the father might be.

“Unnhe,” I said, “will you help raise my child with me?”

“Of course I will,” he smiled. “Only, Nherra has already asked me, if you don’t mind us living together.”

“If she agrees, then of course so do I,” I told him, and so it was settled. By the time we gave birth, the hot season would be over. We would be able to spend the cool season looking after our babes until next hot season began. Then they would be old enough to be looked after by the older children while we were once more taken by the flower-scent.

Unnhe spoke to me about that. “It’s convenient, don’t you think?” he said.

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“We never get to hear about babes being born in the hot season. I think female bodies can only start getting fertile just before mid-hot season, so they give birth after the flowers close for the season. It’s almost like the flowers planned it that way.”

“That’s silly,” I said. “How could they plan it? The flowers can’t know anything about babies.”

“Well, then,” he said, “do you really think it’s just a coincidence?

“Well,” I said, “I’ve been thinking about that. I’ve always wondered: has everything in the world always been the way it is, or do all things slowly change over many years?”

He looked at me in surprise. “Where have you been getting these ideas?” he said.

“I don’t really know,” I admitted, “but I do think about them a lot. Like what you said about babies not being born in hot season. Maybe long ago they were hot season babies, but the older children couldn’t look after them so well without the adults around. So some might not survive, and over time there’d be less and less of them. Maybe, to prevent that, over many lifetimes female bodies would change and become less and less able to fall pregnant at the wrong times. So more babies would survive. But nobody actually planned anything, not even the flowers. It just happened because less... ‘convenient’ ways... got weeded out naturally.”

He pondered my words for a long moment.

“Well,” he said finally, “I’m not sure if that’s true, but it might explain it. But how is it the flowers can make dolls that are so like People we’re able to mate with them? Was there ever a time when that didn’t happen, and if there was, how did it start happening?”

“That, I don’t know,” I said. “It’s a bigger question. It needs more thinking about. Are you still suspicious about the flowers?”

“Well, maybe I am,” he said. “I still have that notion somewhere in the back of my mind, and it’s always just out of reach.”

“Well, come on, let’s take our minds off troubling questions for a while,” I said, embracing him, and we spent much of the evening mating with each other and Nherra.

Toward the end of hot season the scent called us less often, and sometimes as many as four or five days would go by without my being summoned. However, a day came when the scent was stronger and more of us went. We all knew this was the last day, so as we mated with the green dolls we wished the flowers a good sleep. When evening came and the petals closed over their dolls for the last time this season, we waved farewell and made our way back to the village.

It was only when we arrived at the stream to drink and wash that we realised some of our number were missing. Among them was Nherra’s mother, Vilherra.

The mood as we entered the gate was sombre. We ate our evening meal in silence, then Unnhe and I walked with Nherra back to our shared hut, where we sat embracing quietly for a while. Our pregnancies were beginning to show by now, and I could not help but be reminded of the dying flower’s seed. One life ends, another begins, but life itself goes on forever.

In the days that followed my own mother brought Nherra some comfort by sharing stories about her friendship with Vilherra, and their many adventures together, and she promised Nherra any help she needed. From that time Nherra looked on her as a kind of favourite aunt, a part of our larger family.

The largest moon had not quite gone from full to full by the time I was delivered of a healthy girl, and just three days later Nherra birthed a fine boy. I named my child Unnhera, taking part of each mate’s name, and Nherra honoured her mother by calling her son Vilherru.

By the time the big moon had come around to full again, all the babies had been born. One by one, we new mothers proudly showed them off to the rest of the village, and all of our male mates carefully studied their faces for any resemblance. This led to a few disagreements over which babe might have been fathered by whom, but they were all taken in good spirits.

In the end, of course, child-minding was mainly shared between each of the mothers and her male favourites, with everybody relying on the older adults for advice. By the beginning of the next hot season the babies were mostly weaned off of their mothers’ breasts and drinking milk from the village’s small herd of trennas. All of the older children helped tend the beasts, so we were confident they could milk them and keep the infants fed when the flower-scent lured us away.

We did not have to wait long for that day. As hot season approached, I had taken to leaving off my necklace, so when the scent took me it would be safe. Not so my loincloth, which my feet carelessly trampled into the soil after my hands untied it. I suppose I could have left it off too, but by then I had grown used to wearing it. Now I had to grow used to not wearing it again.

So began another hot season. Days of helpless service to the flowers, followed by evenings of enthusiastic mating with our friends. Illhu showed us more interesting ways to add to our pleasure, and many trapped beetles played their part as well.

So the hot season wore on, much as the last. Some of the females became pregnant, including Nherra for the second time, though not myself. Toward the end of the season two more flowers set seed and died, and the People reverently planted the seeds. Then, during the last few days of hot season, five more of the older villagers went missing, including Illhu’s mother. We all comforted her as best we could, reminding her that her mother and the others were now mating with the Gods and their joy would never end.

Still, a nagging doubt was growing at the back of my mind. Why did the disappearances always happen toward the end of the hot season, and why did only older People vanish? But as the season ended, and I was once more able to raise my daughter and take part in the life of the village, the thought was driven from my mind.

The following hot season I conceived for the second time, and Illhu for the third. I spent the season in pleasant anticipation of showing off my new baby to my mother.

Then, on the last day of the scent, my mother and three of her friends joined the vanished ones.

Now it was my turn to mourn, and take what comfort I could in the company of Nherra and Illhu. We told ourselves our mothers were now looking down lovingly upon us as they embraced the Gods and each other. In their eternal happiness, they would not wish us to spend our lives in sorrow, and so we mated in their memory, sometimes gently, sometimes fiercely, and tried to be content.

Soon afterward, I had a second daughter. Again, I was reminded of the flower seeds. Life ends, life begins, life goes on, just as it has forever. But, I thought, had life really existed forever, or had it begun in some unimaginably distant past? I suppose questions like these mattered little in our day-to-day lives, bit they continued to haunt me from time to time. My mother had said I was always a thoughtful child, even when I was small.

I named my newborn Jirrhela in honour of my mother. She and her sister Unnhera grew into beautiful children. To see them laughing and playing with the others gladdened the hearts of myself and my friends, and we imagined our mothers and their friends smiling upon our new families.

I decided that two children were enough for me, so from then on I began to take herbs that would prevent conception. Most of the other young mothers also started taking them after their second or third, although one or two had four. I was not sure how they managed, although of course all the village were happy to help with child-raising.

My daughters grew tall and beautiful, as did all the children of my friends. To my firstborn daughter Unnhera I gave my mother’s necklace and made her promise to keep it safe, as I had. Safer, rather: I impressed upon her that as hot season approached, she was to leave it off, so it would not end up in the mud again.

Before long, the older children, like their parents before them, were allowed to witness the secrets of mating, though not to join in. Nobody spoke of the flowers in front of the children. It was an unspoken rule, and no adult ever broke it. Meanwhile, as my generation matured, our mating became less urgent and intense, but more leisurely and satisfying.

In time, our children were old enough to be called by the scent, and so the circle continued. Soon many of us became grandparents, and that made us anxious. Each year some of the older tribefolk had disappeared, and my friends and I were reaching that age.

We were not afraid, as such. Sooner or later all People died, and beyond death lay the welcoming embrace of the Gods. Still, our children would miss us, and like all parents, we could only hope we had given them all they needed to carry on without us.

The year after Jirrhela’s son was born, both Illhu and Nherra joined the disappeared. Unnhe and I took comfort in each other’s arms, knowing it would be our turn soon. We and all our friends had enjoyed good lives among loving and compassionate People, and wonderful mating in the embrace of each other and the flowers. Once we were gone, the People and their ways would live on, generation after generation, as they had since times unknown.

The next year Unnhe was gone, the last of my original mates. I contented myself that I would be rejoining him in a year or two, along with all the loved ones gone before. Until then, I continued with my tasks and found pleasure in mates a little younger than myself.

Near the end of the second hot season after that, I found myself called by a scent that was not quite like those I had known before. I found myself walking with three or four others toward a part of the grove we had seldom visited. There we found a curious sight. Several flowers lay open before us, yet no green dolls stood within. The scent walked me across their leaf-rings until I was almost upon one of them.

It was hard to remember after so many years, but I thought this must be the place where I had first planted a dying flower’s seed. This flower might well be the very one I had planted. Many other villagers had done the same, and now all of the new flowers were almost grown. They looked full-grown, with all of their petals and leaves arrayed like a mature flower, yet their centres were empty, save for mossy green pads. It looked very strange to me. I do not believe any of us had seen a grown flower without its mating-doll.

Just then, for some reason, I recalled Unnhe telling me the flowers owned the People. I had a feeling at the back of my mind that would not shape itself into a clear thought. That, too, was just as Unnhe had told me.

There came another burst of scent that took hold of me and walked my legs forward until I stood, feet a little apart, at the heart of the mossy pad. Around me the others were doing the same. A thought began to form in my mind... but then the scent became even stronger, and it became hard to think.

While I struggled to regain my thoughts, I felt a tingling in the soles of my feet that slowly spread to the rest of my body. It was not an unpleasant feeling; just the opposite, in fact. I stood straight and my arms fell to my sides. One of the flowers nearby began to close over the woman who stood within, and then the one in which I stood quivered as its own petals began to rise, gradually folding over my legs and torso and ascending toward my head.

I was becoming aroused and my thoughts were growing vague, otherwise I would have been afraid of being closed in. But by the time the petals closed over my body and met above my head, shutting out the light, I was close to orgasm. The soft lining of the petals hugged my skin, warm and comfortable, and pleasure was making me drowsy. How could I be afraid? The flower would protect me.

Then I had a string of powerful climaxes that robbed me of all thought.

I suppose I slept. In that sleep I dreamed stranger dreams than I can tell, and had many orgasms. I lived a thousand lives on a thousand worlds, where I dwelt and mated with all manner of strange yet somehow familiar folk, and alongside them experienced thousands of curious and wonderful and terrible events.

After what felt like many years, I gradually returned to wakefulness. The dreams faded away, and to my lasting regret, the memory of my thousand dream-lives faded with them.

The petals were peeling away from my body and lowering onto the ground about me, permitting the breeze to caress my fur and skin pleasantly, and returning light to my eyes. I felt refreshed, strong and healthy.

I was still standing at the centre of the flower with my legs apart and my arms by my side. The flowers around me all contained mating-dolls in the same pose. The elusive idea was starting to become clearer in my mind.

I wanted to move, but my body remained perfectly still. I wanted to call out, but no sound would come.

I knew very well how it felt to be paralysed by the scent, but this was different; very different. I wanted, wanted desperately, to move, but I could not. I had no command over my body. I barely remembered how to command it. It was as though that part of my mind was asleep... or was no longer there at all.

Oh, dear Gods. At last I understood the truth, now that it was too late to do anything about it. I did not want to believe it, but I had no choice.

It was clear to me now why I could not move. During the long moons I had slept within its petals, the flower had somehow been changing me, joining with me, making me part of itself, and awaiting the day when I would awake in my new form. There was no escape for me now, no changing back.

The flower had turned me into its mating-doll. All of the flower-dolls had once been People. They - that is to say, we - were the disappeared; not dead, but changed.

So my friends were not dead after all. Unnhe, Nherra, Illhu, and so very many others... all were standing nearby, each to a flower, naked, silent and unmoving like me. Should I feel pleased they were alive, or sad that they were helpless?

Now the villagers would mourn me as we had mourned others over the years, never realising I and the rest were all still alive. Even our faces had changed. We all looked alike now. The People would no longer recognise us as the friends they once knew. The flower-scent and nectar clouded their minds to the truth. Only the dolls knew, and they... we... could never tell.

Yes, the flowers truly owned the People. They had owned the People, all of the People, in all of the numberless villages, all over this vast world, for countless hundreds times hundreds of decades. They owned us more thoroughly and completely than we could have ever suspected.

I wanted to take a deep breath to clear my head, but I could not even do that. I was not breathing at all. Nor could I feel my heartbeat, yet I was not dead. I was part of the flower. Its blood was now my blood; its breath, my breath. So long as the flower lived, I could not die, and I had heard the flowers could live for ten decades or more.

Soon the People would come to mate with me, and all of the other green figures, while we stood helpless and mute, able to do nothing but endure being mated with. This was to be our fate, our entire lives, for ten decades or more.

I supposed I ought to be feeling upset, angry and afraid, yet I did not. It seemed the flower had taken those emotions from me. Perhaps that was a mercy. Since I could not escape my fate, there was nothing to be gained by dwelling upon it - nothing but sorrow, and that, too, was gone.

At least I was not alone. All the People I had known and loved, and believed dead, lived as flower-dolls now, somewhere in this very grove. After their disappearances, I must from time to time have mated with them, never recognising them in their new green bodies and identical faces.

Likewise the ones who went before them, all of their parents and maybe grandparents too... even own mother! During the long years since her vanishing, I must have unknowingly mated with my mother many times in her doll form. I was not sure how I ought to feel about that, had I still possessed all of my feelings. And when they were grown, my own daughters in their turn would sometimes mate with me, and I could do nothing to prevent that either.

All the People in the world would someday share this fate, just as had their ancestors for countless thousands of generations. That was how thoroughly the flowers owned the People, and nobody could ever learn the truth until it was too late to tell.

Though I could not turn my head, my eyes still moved, though slowly, and my sight was clearer than ever. It was not long before I saw movement beyond the nearest flowers. Presently, several People walked into view, moving in their scent-induced trances toward the nearest green dolls.

Two young males who I knew approached me. Their names were Marrhe and Rhannhe, and they were mates. In the village they did everything together, and now it seemed not even the flower-scent could keep them apart.

Being heplessly naked before their eyes caused me some embarrassment, but at least I was able to feel it. The flower had not killed all of my emotions.

I was becoming aroused by their presence, and my arousal grew and grew until it became almost painfully intense. I could feel myself becoming moist both in all my openings, moist with sweet flower-nectar.

The two approached, penises thick and hard. There was nothing I could do to stop them, and they could not stop themselves. All that was about to happen, would happen according to the flowers’ will. My body was aching to be held, caressed, toyed with. I was sensing my flower’s desires, and there was only one way they could be fulfilled.

Rhannhe moved in front of me and studied my green body for a moment, while Marrhe walked behind me and began to fondle my back and bottom. Then Rannhe stepped forward, pressed his chest against my bosom and started stroking my arms gently.

I would have sighed if I could. Their presence was comforting, and their touch was deeply pleasant. It was arousing another emotion in me: anticipation. I was impatient to know how mating would feel for a doll.

I did not have to wait long. Soon Rannhe slid his erection into my vagina. He and Marrhe had mated with me many times before when I was a woman, but now it felt very different. As the hot shaft moved in and out of my green opening, the pleasure was greater than any I had known before. I thought it might make me orgasm right away, but it did not. I could not reach orgasm until the flower was fulfilled.

A moment later I felt Marrhe move closer, and his penis entered my anus. At once my pleasure was doubled and more than doubled. In my new form, the feelings in my anus and vagina were equally strong. I supposed that made sense. As a part of the flower, I no longer needed to eat, drink or make waste, so the flower had reshaped my anus into a kind of second vagina.

Then Rannhe kissed me on the mouth and slid his tongue inside. I no longer had a tongue of my own, nor teeth. My mouth was another hollow tube that was sensitive to pleasure. Rannhe’s tongue felt as good in it as the two men’s erections did in my other two openings.

I should have guessed, after mating with so many dolls over the years. Female dolls had three vaginas. Male dolls had two vaginas and an erect penis. Oh, sweet Gods, how could I, how could any of us, have ever imagined the dolls could feel such ecstasy?

The sweet sensations went on and on. Marrhe and Rannhe continued thrusting and thrusting, each to his own rhythm, causing the pleasure to rise and fall by greater and lesser amounts as their movements came together and then moved apart. Their arms gently caressed my body and each others’. I did not know exactly how my body had been reshaped inside, but I could almost fancy their penises sometimes met in the middle and greeted each other.

The day wore on, as did their mating, and I think I entered a kind of blissful trance. I could not move, and they could not stop. There was nothing to do but savour the feelings that gradually, oh, so gradually, crept toward orgasm, as the big sun climbed higher and the small sun eventually followed.

At last, at long, long, last, when the big sun was past half way to noon, I felt Rannhe shiver and stiffen and he issued a gasp and a long moan. Moments later I felt his seed pour into me, and my own orgasm finally arrived. I did not think words had ever been conceived to describe such a heavenly feeling, for how could they? Only we mating-dolls had ever experienced them, and we have no words.

Then a moment later Marrhe also reached orgasm, and as his seed gushed into my anus I found myself having two - no, three separate orgasms at the same time, all different, all equally divine. As the men’s juices flowed into me, I could feel my new body drinking them, using them as extra nourishment for the flower, and that was a new and pleasurable sensation in its own right.

Oh, Gods, how was it possible for me to feel so alive and free, now I was rooted, immobile and helpless? It was more wonderful than anything out of my flower-dreams.

Then, just when I thought it was done, there was a pleasant tingling in my skin, which suddenly grew far stronger as I felt pollen burst out of me, stronger and still stronger, until I wanted to scream, but of course I could not. This was the flower’s ejaculation. It was true: I was its penis now. A penis with three vaginas of its own.

The orgasms the men had given me were intense, but this was something else. The flower had needed my orgasms to set off its own, and now it was repaying me by forcing me to share the experience. It was like the orgasm of a God. I felt as if every tiny piece of my skin was having its own separate climax, all of them at once, all of them individual, and all of them growing stronger with every passing moment. It seemed to last forever, and soon I could not think at all.

It was not forever, but merely some time after noon, when I came to myself once more. My two mates had long since moved on to other flowers, and now I felt feminine hands gently caressing my breasts and clitoris while their owner rubbed her own slowly against the fur - I should say, the moss - of my buttocks.

This time the sensations were not so overwhelming, and as my new mate slowly coaxed our bodies toward another orgasm, I was able to think about the flowers and their relationship with the People.

Had there ever been a time, I wondered, when the People did not merge with the flowers to become mating dolls, or had the two always been fated to be one? I supposed there was no way to know, but I believed I now understood how the partnership worked.

Under the flowers’ spell, the People mate with the dolls, and then with each other. In time the younger adults become parents, and their children in turn grow to adulthood and fall under the lure of the flower-scent.

Then they too mate with the flowers, spreading pollen from one to another. While doing so they drink of the sap the dolls ejaculate from their various openings. The sap alters their minds somehow, making them more eager to mate with each other. In time the flowers are fertilised, turning their mating-dolls into seeds and putting out one last burst of scent so some person will plant their seed before they die. The seed somehow remembers which person planted it, so that when that one is older and the flower almost full-grown, it emits a scent that attracts them to step into it. Then stings in the flower’s pad paralyse them and lull them into orgasmic sleep while its petals close over them.

That sleep, accompanied by strange dreams, lasts half a year, while the flower weaves its body and its visitor’s together inseparably, changing the person little by little into an immobile mating doll that looks just like all the others; still able to think clearly but with just one purpose: to be mated by the scent-controlled People, so their orgasms will give the flower orgasms and cause it to release pollen.

Finally, after perhaps a hundred years, the flower will stop emitting pollen and start receiving it. Once the flower is fertilised, the doll at its heart hardens and shrinks into a seed. Then one of the People will come to plant it, and another flower will be born. In its time it too is destined capture a person to be its mating-doll, and so the circle continues to turn forever.

I wondered whether the mating-dolls were still be able to think once they became seeds, or even once they grew into new flowers. When a flower captured a person, did it know what it was doing? I supposed even if it did, it could not choose not to capture them. In that sense, the flowers were as helpless as the People.

And when that flower in turn became a seed, would the one who had been its seed still remain? Did the flowers retain the memories of all who had once joined with their ancestors? These were mysteries to which I would surely learn the answer, one far distant day. Until then, there was only one thing I could do: stand still and be mated.

So this, my fate, was the fate of us all, all of the People in all of the world. Only those few who succumbed to accident, disease or genuine animal attacks would ever escape it. Nobody ever grew old.

Of course, the flowers and their dolls were also mortal. They might be killed by disease, lightning or fire before setting seed, though as far as I knew this was rare. There was a small chance such a thing could happen to me and my flower, but I was not able to fret about it. In my doll-body I could feel neither pain nor fear.

That day, my first as a doll, I was visited by two more couples and one more single visitor. Between them they mated with my clitoris and all of my openings in various ways, some of which even I had not seen in my time as an adult person. By evening, I think I would have been exhausted had I been able.

Such pleasure, so much unimaginable release, in just one day! How many more thousands of such days, how many tens of thousands of flower-orgasms, was I to endure, before I too became a seed, then a flower, and then entrapped a person to become my own mating-doll?

I would miss my life as a woman, it was true. I thought of all the things I would never do again. I would never see children at play, hear their laughter or comfort their tears; never dance, wear clothes or beads, enjoy the taste or smell of food, or mate voluntarily; never hear another story or song. I would never again savour the feeling of Illhu’s moonbeetle nuts, buzzing against my clitoris. I would seldom hear a voice, save in the evenings when the scent faded and the People were able to speak freely amidst the flowers. I would never see the stars, for the flowers close before nightfall and open after dawn. I would even miss the familiar sensation of squatting to relieve myself.

My sadness at these things was a vague, distant feeling, otherwise it might have overcome my thoughts. I was even going to miss fear, pain and sorrow, for they too were a part of my mortal life.

I hoped I would at least remember all those things, that the intensity of the flower’s orgasms would not drive their memories from my mind.

Strange as my new life seemed to me now, I imagined the flower would in time persuade me to accept it. After a few years, I might even feel happy to be forever motionless. After all, the flower was used to never moving.

Rrhela the mating-doll Art by LadyKraken

So my tale reaches the present. The scent has faded, and the People are making their way back to the village. I relish the sight of their shapely naked backs, as they walk away slowly past the flowers in the reddening light. While I watch, I am filled with another emotion that I am thankful the flower has not taken from me: love. Even though it no longer beats, my heart is filled with love for the People. Oh, if only I could tell them what awaits them. But even if they knew, what could they do about it? What could I have done?

In the corner of my eye I see the big sun setting. Soon the flower will close about me for the night. I hope that as I sleep within, it will grant me more orgasmic dreams of wondrous worlds afar.

O Gods, my story is nearly done. I think I will repeat it to You and to myself often, to keep alive the memory of my life and all I have learned. So before I sleep, I tell You one more thing You know I learned.

Once, I believed You Gods lived among the distant stars, and those who disappeared would spend eternity in Your embrace, enjoying heavenly orgasms. But now I know the disappeared are not dead, not dwelling among the stars, but among the flowers, transformed into mating-dolls like me.

Yet the tale we believed of the Gods is not a complete lie, for I now understand what the Gods are. You dwell not in the sky, but in groves all over the world. You are all around us. You are at my feet. For what else could the Gods be... but the giant flowers themselves?

I do not know if You created the People, but you have so thoroughly made us a part of Yourselves that our destinies are forever entwined. You control the fates of all People who live, and will ever live, from the moment we are born until the moment we are planted as new seeds. The orgasms we receive from You are, beyond question, gifts from the Gods, gifts no mortal could know before joining with You.

Now, as the rising petals bring to a close the first day of my new long life, so too I close the first telling of my tale. I salute you, o Flower-Gods, though I know You will forgive me for not bowing to You in worship.