Archive of Our Own ^beta

Loneliness is the house that Stolas has built. He and his plants against the world and nobody else. He's named them all; from the tiniest roses just beginning to blossom to the towering giants of vines and maws, every single one of them has a name. He loves every last one of them, but there's one he loves the most: Blitzy 2.

Blitzy 2 is a “Plantaquae teexcitat” named after the only friend Stolas ever had, who quickly became the best fuck and closest thing to real love the lonely Goetia had ever experienced. It's a beast that is reminiscent of the mortal “Dionaea muscipula,” also known as the Venus Flytrap. Blitzy 2 is incredibly unique, though. Stolas has devoted time, care, and a surplus of unholy magic taken from the deepest pages of his grimoire and several other magical tomes. It's turned B2 into a massive beast of a plant with writhing vines, purple eyes, massive snapping jaws, and (most importantly) incredibly powerful pheromones that make capturing prey a cinch for the monster. The plant is larger than Stolas by a considerable amount and could easily overpower him, but it hasn't. After all, Stolas has raised it by hand for so long that it knows that he's not food. Right?

“Ohhh, ohh my!” Stolas squawks as he feels something thick snake around his thin waist. The owl was just going through his daily routine of tending to the garden by methodically watering all of the flowers and snipping away dead sections and weeds that sprang up in the planters. He'd fed Blitzy 2 a few hours ago and given it a fresh round of magical balm to help with its growth and root strength. Now it seems as if the plant wants more of Stolas’ time. This sort of routine isn't entirely unusual for it, as it had shown a few times in the past a capacity to be playful. However, something is a little off this time. Perhaps the most recent batch of balm had come out a little bit wrong? Stolas isn't too concerned as he backpedals towards the plant to prevent the tugging vines from toppling him and instead getting dragged backwards. He has to get close to Blitzy 2 to see what's going on with it, so he doesn't see much of a problem with being pulled in. The plant continues to tug the prince closer to itself, and the owl rotates his head one hundred and eighty degrees to get a look at B2. Before his head is fully turned around, Stolas receives a faceful of faint purple mist that hangs around his head.

“Oh shit, the pheromones!” He thinks to himself. The Goetia holds his breath, knowing that even inhaling a whiff has the potential to put him under the plant's spell and tries to remove himself from Blitzy 2's grasp. As Stolas tugs on the vine around his waist, a second comes and around and gently wraps around his throat and startles him so badly that he gasps, opening his mouth and inhaling a massive breath of spores and pheromones. They're sweet like a decadent dessert in the owl's sinuses. All at once, a deep, warm sensation trickles through Stolas’ core. Tendrils of pleasure snake their way out from his stomach to his fingertips and make him clench his hands into fists as his knees squeeze together in pleasure. The warmth in his gut is sliding down and settling in his loins, feeling like a second pulse sending pleasure waves to override any other feeling or sensation. Fuck does it feel good, so good. Stolas’ feathers puff up around his neck, and he clicks his beak with pleasure. His upper eyes roll back in blissful ecstasy as Blitzy 2's love dust powders his brain and lungs. Stolas has never been to Heaven, but he knows that whatever shit they have going on up there doesn't compare to the delights he's experiencing down here in Hell.

Shrrrrriiiippp!!! Is the sound that Stolas’ pants make as another vine slides through the belt loops and into the unzipped crotch and tears the tweed trousers from his body. It's a swift motion that leaves Stolas' hips exposed. Smaller vines begin to tear away at the shreds of his pants left on his lower legs, while the larger vine that tore away the upper half begins to probe around Stolas’ nethers. It isn't successful at first because the owl's legs are still squeezed together tightly from the effects of the spores in his brain, but a sensual slide up to rub Stolas’ ass and give it a small squeeze fills the Goetia's head with visions of Blitzø and how he'd done similar things to ease Stolas into a second round. His legs open up, giving Blitzy 2 access to his cloaca.

The vines start slowly, testing and feeling the outer skin around his hole. They tease around the edge in a way that makes Stolas trill with delight. A second vine joins the first, slightly smaller and thinner but far more dexterous than its larger counterpart. It shimmies next to the other one and takes the plunge into Stolas, rather than being a dirty tease. The owl gasps and clicks his beak faster. His eyes flutter, and he can't help but gyrate his hips just a bit on the vines. It feels so good, so enticing to have the plant's appendage in him. While lacking in the girth and length department compared to Blitzø's package, Stolas is hardly in a position to complain about the work Blitzy 2 is doing. As he grinds on the vines, the owl's wrists are squeezed together and lifted above his head. The tendrils holding them squeeze tightly, and it brings back memories of Stolas’ first time with Blitzø and how the imp had tied his wrists and legs to his bedposts and railed him like it was his last day in Hell. The owl's hands open and close, and he flexes his wrists curiously against the vines holding him. Blitzy 2 immediately responds with a squeeze from the vines around his waist and wrists, as well as a deeper thrust from the tendril in his cloaca.

“Yes!!!” Stolas cries, arching his back as he feels his feet lift off the ground by the plant's grasping appendages. “Oh, FUCK YES!!!”

The horny owl's talons curl as he's picked up and spun around to face Blitzy 2. The massive plant's ghostly white face leers up at him, and its bright purple eyes almost seem to be expanding and filling with colored rings. Stolas sees the faint swirling colors even when he closes his eyes and feels their influence massaging his brain. It feels like he has tendrils in his head poking and prodding around the walls of his skull in pleasurable passion.

Stolas’ eyes shoot open again as he's once again lifted just a bit higher above the plant, only this time it's by the vines that are snaking into his cloaca. The larger vine has joined the smaller one inside him, no longer teasing his outer lips. The tentacles are filling the cavity and stretching the owl in ways that the inexperienced owl didn't think were possible for his body to handle. The pressure in his loins is almost turning into pain, but the plant's skilled maneuvering is keeping the sensations from being uncomfortable. Those colored rings are even more prominent as the owl is drawn closer to the plant and creates a haze in Stolas’ vision. The owl can't help but giggle as his waves of pure bliss ripple to his extremities from his loins. His fingers and talons feel so cold, but his crotch is burning hot.

The next several minutes are some of the best that Stolas can recall, though thinking isn't exactly easy for the horny owl as he's piped by his beloved plant. A tendril strokes up his crotch, across his belly, and underneath the white button-down the Goetia is wearing. A quick tug rips all the buttons free from the shirt and tears most of the front off. The mother-of-pearl buttons scatter across the floor and make shimmery tinkling sounds when they land on the stone. All the while, another tentacle is stroking down Stolas’ back to remove the rest of his shirt. It follows the arch of his back as it goes, carving a trail through his feathers that leaves pleasure-filled heat in its wake. Stolas has now been completely stripped and unwrapped like the obedient little prey thing that he's become for Blitzy 2. It squeezes his waist tighter and begins to lift the owl in a manner that more directly faces its jaws. Dexterous as ever, it bends him over to do so, putting his ass out and giving far more open access for more vines to probe around. In doing so, the plant pushes him closer to its jaws, until the owl's beak is nearly touching them. With Stolas so close now, the plant's front unfurls, opening up into a beautiful, dreadful maw full of teeth. Goopy purple saliva stretches out across the gaping interior of the plant, and a bed of cilia-like tendrils writhes in the depths of Blitzy 2. Its thick purple tongue, which was resting just out of view along the plant's lower jaw, springs forward like an eager beast to taste Stolas. It starts down on the owl's chest and slowly slides upwards. Thick saliva sticks his feathers together along its path. The sticky appendage slides up the front of his neck and stops at his chin, where it cups it in a gesture that resembles tenderness.

The gesture is lost on Stolas, who by this point has been reduced to a drooling mess with his tongue lolling from his beak as his eyes swirl. He occasionally twitches and squeezes his legs around the vines still deep in his cloaca, but the owl is mostly lost in vivid daydreams spawned from the pleasure the plant is providing. In the midst of his spore-induced stupor Stolas swears he sees Blitzø and he can hear the imp mumbling praise into his earholes. Compliments to him on being a good, docile little fucktoy for him and how the owl better hold himself together. Stolas listens to the voice and tries his best not to burst from the pleasure as he's eased down into the purple abyss that is Blitzy 2's depths. While ordinarily the owl could talk for hours about how fascinating the inner anatomy of the plant is and how its jaws recessed slightly to create a subpouch that held part of its prey for digestion while keeping most of its meal in the upper half to be gradually chewed and broken down by its acid-rich secretions, he's in no position to explain that right now. Instead, he can only experience it.

At first, Blitzy 2 tries to maneuver Stolas down headfirst, but it doesn't seem satisfied with this process. Instead, it whirls the owl around and begins to lower him into its depths, starting at his talons. Smaller purple vines reminiscent of the larger tongue snake upwards and grip Stolas' ankles to tug him down. As the owl is eased down into the plant's embrace, its tentacles leave his cloaca, only to be promptly replaced by the tongues and cilia waiting at the bottom. At long last, Stolas gives in and feels the sweet fluids of pleasure seeping from his cloaca. His horny mind is far too focused on the sensation of his orgasm as it sends a pulse of heat into his crotch and makes his wet feathers stand on end. The owl is so lost in blissful release that he doesn't notice that he's now completely entrapped, being kneaded over in the darkness of the plant. While a sane, able-minded person would be panicking, Stolas is none of those things, least of all now. The teeth aren't piercing his skin, only rubbing and poking. The thick saliva is seeping into his feathers and matting them down. All the while, Stolas is enjoying himself, shrouded in the bliss of his capture. In the back recesses where his sane mind lingers, Stolas knows there's no real harm this plant could do to him. It's far from holy, so the owl won't actually be hurt. It just means that he's stuck in here until his Goetic nature ultimately builds up a natural tolerance to the pheromones, or until someone comes and rescues him. Though when he thinks about it, does he really need saving?