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    Shearra was under the impression that the button was a quick-release. Far too late, she realized that it was purely ornamental.

    Her break was not an ‘attempt,’ as she had been able to easily extricate herself from the compound before the Directrix could apply any more restrictive or long-term equipment. It had required profoundly precise timing, but that wasn’t terribly difficult. All she had to do was memorize the patrol patterns of the guards and cross-reference that with the patterns of the various machinery. She noted that the guard with the gel rifle patrolled past the latex-spraying nozzles every fifty-six seconds, for instance. She calculated that the two females wearing masks and armor took ninety-three seconds to operate the life-support mechanisms, and that it would sometimes take longer if the captive squirmed.

    As such, she needed only to motivate the captive in front of her to be particularly lithe. She couldn’t simply ask, so she instead spun long, lugubrious tales of the terrible fate that awaited them. Endless teasing followed by orgiastic bliss and long periods of total isolation. Shearra wasn’t sure how much of what she was saying was fact and how much was purely an elaborate tale to horrify and make the girl in front of her buck and writhe.

    Either way, it was a success. The added time spent applying the various pieces of equipment gave Shearra precisely how long she needed to chew through her gag, and from there, escape was essentially inevitable. The “production line” ground to a halt as Shearra quickly made her way from the facility. She had prioritized removing her various bits of bondage in order. First had been the gag. Second were the leg restraints. Third was the wide belt that threatened to send torment and tease her, and also contained a tracking device. Last would be the straitjacket. She never got to that particular step.

    Sprinting through the facility - still half-bound and ready for enclosure - she saw scenes of chaos unfolding. Prisoners broke free from their restraints. Captives, still undergoing resocialization and hypnosis, threw their shackles off and pounced onto staff. Soldiers of the Directrix fled in confusion. Automated drones took to the skies, attempting to corral the most docile prisoners together while others attempted to restrain those that were of a particularly dangerous bent. She left them all behind. The prisoners fled the facility into the dense forest beyond.

    After a few minutes of running, it seemed that there was only one prisoner who hadn’t been caught or been separated. Aria, with a shock of red on her black hair, had been the woman directly in front - the one slated for imprisonment and transport back to the Directrix. To her surprise and delight, Shearra quickly learned that Aria hadn’t been squirming in fear - but anticipation. The naughty creature was proud to admit that she was thoroughly excited for the opportunity to be bound, stripped, and encased in countless layers beneath the careful thumb and loving boot of the feared Directrix Phantom.

    Aria had managed to extricate herself from all the restraints, and was as nude as Eve. Shearra hadn’t been so successful. The orange straitjacket hugged her form tight; arms crushed beneath her prominent chest, all of it encapsuleted in an endless web of straps. The singular, bright red button was presumably a quick-release, but Aria was either too weak or lacked the proper tools. And so, stranded in the forest on an unfamiliar world, Shearra cursed her luck. Perhaps if she had waited a few minutes more, some of those kindly-looking workers would have helped her free. Perhaps.

    The planet seemed to have rapid day-night cycles. It was only an hour after their epic escape that the sun began to fall. Crepuscular life bloomed in the forest, and the once-docile environs seemed to transform to a completely different world. Trees seemed more menacing in the shadowed sun. Long branches grew, blocking out light in the canopy. They couldn’t even trust the ground beneath their feet.

    A vaguely female shape called out to them in the creeping darkness. Eager for an avenue of escape - or at least, another companion - they trudged through the forest and into their waiting doom.

    Aria was the first. One step ended not in the soft footfall of grass, but instead a soft and cushioned ‘squish’. Aria yelped as she stared at her foot, which had landed squarely in the open bulb of some ground-based plant. She pulled, but it seemed to be glued in place. The dark-haired woman wiggled her toes slightly while Shearra offered suggestions.

    Several things happened in rapid succession. The first was a deep, throaty groan that emanated from somewhere near in the darkness. A massive green stalk emerged from the earth, with a simple flower on top and a curious shape in the center. The stalk itself seemed quite humanoid. In fact, it seemed to have engulfed one! The shapely features of a woman, now completely and totally enclosed by the green stalk, wiggled and writhed in the evening sun. Shearra squinted, trying to get a look. Prominent breasts, a shapely rear, a thin waist constricted by her organic encasement… whoever was in there was alive and kicking - or at least, furiously squirming. Shearra could swear she saw the facial features of a gaping mouth - which would explain the loud cries of help they’d hear earlier.

    The siren song continued, though it was quickly eclipsed by the endless sounds of their own crisis. Shiny black ichor began to extend its way up her leg. Initially bemused - like a fantastical pair of stockings - Aria quickly gave way to concern when the sticky, rubbery black substance spread to her other leg as well. Swiping it away with her hands did nothing but spread it further. Wiping said substance off on the small of her back only seemed to lock her arms behind her. Stomping with her other foot only guaranteed the rapid spread of the rubbery organism.

    Through it all, Shearra was powerless to help. Aria warned her to stay away - her voice a mixture of profound excitement and a modicum of fear. The latter soon gave way to the former when a second layer began to grow from the bulb. Blushing, squirming, cooing, and helplessly addicted to rubber, Aria’s form disappered beneath the organic ebony sheath. Creeping from her ankles to her waist and up to her neck, it cemented itself to her body courtesy of the sticky sap. Aria’s mouth was open, but she wasn’t saying much aside from gutteral grunts and the occasional high-pitched mewl of peasure.

    Shearra’s judgement told her how to escape the sap, but sadly any such attempts to escape were made impossible by her tightly restrained arms. She hopped up and down as she felt rubbery sap creeping up her legs as well, sending her bound chest and encapsulated arms wobbling. It was no use. Black ichor crept up her ankles, calves, knees, thighs… it secreted itself around her waist and stomach and chest, growing up to her neck in a few moments. Then came the second sack; one which was tailor made (or tailor-grown?) to keep her in place.

    It was heavenly! It was exciting! It was utterly inescapable! Shearra cried out for help, bucking left and right. She tried to ‘fall over,’ to break the stem and wriggle away, but the increasing tightness around her ankles told her that the plant was already hardening and cementing itself around her shapely form. Any onlooker would, of course, note that both victims were profound specimens. Hopefully, that might be enough to inspire a rescue attempt.

    The sack seemed to go on endlessly, creating long leafy bands of black rubber that would solidify to the next. It reminded Shearra of the sort of careful craftsmanship that went into ceramic armor… though instead of creating a high-tech craft, it was webbing her up like a mummy in a tomb. The most obvious difference was that they were most certainly alive. If Aria was any indication, she was even more alive than usual! She began to yelp, mewling with delight as something began to massage her inner thighs. She tried to explain the sudden source of stimulation when the black bands passed her lips. Her mouth was forced open, and Shearra saw her sucking down a hearty mouthful of the rubbery matter. With her mouth full and filled, she was finished off with one more succulent-sweet and self-sealing layer. Only the top of her hair was visible; the rest rendered her as anonymous as the victim that had drawn them in.

    Shearra looked down at her own bindings. They were growing tighter by the minute. Aria was already being lifted into the air; green leaves were starting to very slowly close around her as the sun crested below the horizon. At this rate, she’d be almost indistinguishable from any other plant life! They’d be hidden away until the sun came again, and she hadn’t the faintest idea when that would be. At the very least, she’d be a very curvy, shapely stem.

    The orange of the straitjacket was starting to disappear under the blissful black rubbery of her captor plant. Shearra bucked and squirmed as something began to sensually tickle her inner thighs.


------

This piece's title is a reference to Crabgrass Crucible, a book about the early history of the environmental movement. It's fairly academic. However it's also fairly interesting; it posits that the modern environmental movement sprang from American suburbs. The created and artificial environment that is Suburbia trains us to think of 'nature' as something very specific, and that mindset made the suburbs the prime spot for environmentalism to spread.

It also doesn't have a single line about rubbery plants that capture, encase, and glue their victims in place. It has zero passages about pretty boys and girls getting grabbed and groped and compressed as living engines to power plants hungry for heat and sexual energy. It doesn't have a single line about Aria or Shearra getting mummified and enclosed in living latex. Such a pity.

Description

This image was drawn by and features characters belonging to and

    Shearra was under the impression that the button was a quick-release. Far too late, she realized that it was purely ornamental.

    Her break was not an ‘attempt,’ as she had been able to easily extricate herself from the compound before the Directrix could apply any more restrictive or long-term equipment. It had required profoundly precise timing, but that wasn’t terribly difficult. All she had to do was memorize the patrol patterns of the guards and cross-reference that with the patterns of the various machinery. She noted that the guard with the gel rifle patrolled past the latex-spraying nozzles every fifty-six seconds, for instance. She calculated that the two females wearing masks and armor took ninety-three seconds to operate the life-support mechanisms, and that it would sometimes take longer if the captive squirmed.

    As such, she needed only to motivate the captive in front of her to be particularly lithe. She couldn’t simply ask, so she instead spun long, lugubrious tales of the terrible fate that awaited them. Endless teasing followed by orgiastic bliss and long periods of total isolation. Shearra wasn’t sure how much of what she was saying was fact and how much was purely an elaborate tale to horrify and make the girl in front of her buck and writhe.

    Either way, it was a success. The added time spent applying the various pieces of equipment gave Shearra precisely how long she needed to chew through her gag, and from there, escape was essentially inevitable. The “production line” ground to a halt as Shearra quickly made her way from the facility. She had prioritized removing her various bits of bondage in order. First had been the gag. Second were the leg restraints. Third was the wide belt that threatened to send torment and tease her, and also contained a tracking device. Last would be the straitjacket. She never got to that particular step.

    Sprinting through the facility - still half-bound and ready for enclosure - she saw scenes of chaos unfolding. Prisoners broke free from their restraints. Captives, still undergoing resocialization and hypnosis, threw their shackles off and pounced onto staff. Soldiers of the Directrix fled in confusion. Automated drones took to the skies, attempting to corral the most docile prisoners together while others attempted to restrain those that were of a particularly dangerous bent. She left them all behind. The prisoners fled the facility into the dense forest beyond.

    After a few minutes of running, it seemed that there was only one prisoner who hadn’t been caught or been separated. Aria, with a shock of red on her black hair, had been the woman directly in front - the one slated for imprisonment and transport back to the Directrix. To her surprise and delight, Shearra quickly learned that Aria hadn’t been squirming in fear - but anticipation. The naughty creature was proud to admit that she was thoroughly excited for the opportunity to be bound, stripped, and encased in countless layers beneath the careful thumb and loving boot of the feared Directrix Phantom.

    Aria had managed to extricate herself from all the restraints, and was as nude as Eve. Shearra hadn’t been so successful. The orange straitjacket hugged her form tight; arms crushed beneath her prominent chest, all of it encapsuleted in an endless web of straps. The singular, bright red button was presumably a quick-release, but Aria was either too weak or lacked the proper tools. And so, stranded in the forest on an unfamiliar world, Shearra cursed her luck. Perhaps if she had waited a few minutes more, some of those kindly-looking workers would have helped her free. Perhaps.

    The planet seemed to have rapid day-night cycles. It was only an hour after their epic escape that the sun began to fall. Crepuscular life bloomed in the forest, and the once-docile environs seemed to transform to a completely different world. Trees seemed more menacing in the shadowed sun. Long branches grew, blocking out light in the canopy. They couldn’t even trust the ground beneath their feet.

    A vaguely female shape called out to them in the creeping darkness. Eager for an avenue of escape - or at least, another companion - they trudged through the forest and into their waiting doom.

    Aria was the first. One step ended not in the soft footfall of grass, but instead a soft and cushioned ‘squish’. Aria yelped as she stared at her foot, which had landed squarely in the open bulb of some ground-based plant. She pulled, but it seemed to be glued in place. The dark-haired woman wiggled her toes slightly while Shearra offered suggestions.

    Several things happened in rapid succession. The first was a deep, throaty groan that emanated from somewhere near in the darkness. A massive green stalk emerged from the earth, with a simple flower on top and a curious shape in the center. The stalk itself seemed quite humanoid. In fact, it seemed to have engulfed one! The shapely features of a woman, now completely and totally enclosed by the green stalk, wiggled and writhed in the evening sun. Shearra squinted, trying to get a look. Prominent breasts, a shapely rear, a thin waist constricted by her organic encasement… whoever was in there was alive and kicking - or at least, furiously squirming. Shearra could swear she saw the facial features of a gaping mouth - which would explain the loud cries of help they’d hear earlier.

    The siren song continued, though it was quickly eclipsed by the endless sounds of their own crisis. Shiny black ichor began to extend its way up her leg. Initially bemused - like a fantastical pair of stockings - Aria quickly gave way to concern when the sticky, rubbery black substance spread to her other leg as well. Swiping it away with her hands did nothing but spread it further. Wiping said substance off on the small of her back only seemed to lock her arms behind her. Stomping with her other foot only guaranteed the rapid spread of the rubbery organism.

    Through it all, Shearra was powerless to help. Aria warned her to stay away - her voice a mixture of profound excitement and a modicum of fear. The latter soon gave way to the former when a second layer began to grow from the bulb. Blushing, squirming, cooing, and helplessly addicted to rubber, Aria’s form disappered beneath the organic ebony sheath. Creeping from her ankles to her waist and up to her neck, it cemented itself to her body courtesy of the sticky sap. Aria’s mouth was open, but she wasn’t saying much aside from gutteral grunts and the occasional high-pitched mewl of peasure.

    Shearra’s judgement told her how to escape the sap, but sadly any such attempts to escape were made impossible by her tightly restrained arms. She hopped up and down as she felt rubbery sap creeping up her legs as well, sending her bound chest and encapsulated arms wobbling. It was no use. Black ichor crept up her ankles, calves, knees, thighs… it secreted itself around her waist and stomach and chest, growing up to her neck in a few moments. Then came the second sack; one which was tailor made (or tailor-grown?) to keep her in place.

    It was heavenly! It was exciting! It was utterly inescapable! Shearra cried out for help, bucking left and right. She tried to ‘fall over,’ to break the stem and wriggle away, but the increasing tightness around her ankles told her that the plant was already hardening and cementing itself around her shapely form. Any onlooker would, of course, note that both victims were profound specimens. Hopefully, that might be enough to inspire a rescue attempt.

    The sack seemed to go on endlessly, creating long leafy bands of black rubber that would solidify to the next. It reminded Shearra of the sort of careful craftsmanship that went into ceramic armor… though instead of creating a high-tech craft, it was webbing her up like a mummy in a tomb. The most obvious difference was that they were most certainly alive. If Aria was any indication, she was even more alive than usual! She began to yelp, mewling with delight as something began to massage her inner thighs. She tried to explain the sudden source of stimulation when the black bands passed her lips. Her mouth was forced open, and Shearra saw her sucking down a hearty mouthful of the rubbery matter. With her mouth full and filled, she was finished off with one more succulent-sweet and self-sealing layer. Only the top of her hair was visible; the rest rendered her as anonymous as the victim that had drawn them in.

    Shearra looked down at her own bindings. They were growing tighter by the minute. Aria was already being lifted into the air; green leaves were starting to very slowly close around her as the sun crested below the horizon. At this rate, she’d be almost indistinguishable from any other plant life! They’d be hidden away until the sun came again, and she hadn’t the faintest idea when that would be. At the very least, she’d be a very curvy, shapely stem.

    The orange of the straitjacket was starting to disappear under the blissful black rubbery of her captor plant. Shearra bucked and squirmed as something began to sensually tickle her inner thighs.


------

This piece's title is a reference to Crabgrass Crucible, a book about the early history of the environmental movement. It's fairly academic. However it's also fairly interesting; it posits that the modern environmental movement sprang from American suburbs. The created and artificial environment that is Suburbia trains us to think of 'nature' as something very specific, and that mindset made the suburbs the prime spot for environmentalism to spread.

It also doesn't have a single line about rubbery plants that capture, encase, and glue their victims in place. It has zero passages about pretty boys and girls getting grabbed and groped and compressed as living engines to power plants hungry for heat and sexual energy. It doesn't have a single line about Aria or Shearra getting mummified and enclosed in living latex. Such a pity.