Page 132 of M!lked For His Pleasure

I must have been too out of it to notice before.

The golden glow on the horizon confirmed the transition of night to the day. I noticed that many of the tall flowers were closed.

“Where to pee, where to pee…” I muttered to myself. By the flowers? In the open pasture? Men peed on walls all the time, but it felt rude to pop a squat next to the barn.

The tall flora were like trees, I supposed.

My pitchfork became my walking stick as I made my way across the spongy grass that soon became more like clover the closer I got to the windmill-sized flowers. Standing next to one made me feel like Jack next to his giant beanstalk.

I looked up at the closed bloom, then tentatively placed a hand on the stem. It vibrated beneath my palm. It reminded me of quiet snoring.It’s sleeping.If I didn’t breathe, could I feel the roots pulsating beneath my feet?

With a quick look to make sure I was alone, I quickly squatted down. “Come on, come on,” I urged my bladder.

Finally, sweet relief.

I had just wiggled the remaining urine off and stood when I felt movement above my head, disturbing the air. I gasped at first in fear, then in awe.

The flowers were opening to the dawning light. I had never seen anything like it in my life. The unfurling petals spread apart like opening a closed fist and extending the fingers. The stems stood tall to the sky, and leaves swept up and out. The plants then rippled, like shaking off their slumber.

Dew fell like rain upon me.

“Aw man,” I grumbled.

I should probably appreciate the shower. Only the Lord knew when I’d get one again. I had yet to see a sign of plumbing.

My musing was interrupted by a loud zip tearing through the sky, followed by a moving shadow. Startled near to death, I pressed my back against the stem and clutched my pitchfork close to my chest. I held my breath and waited.

When nothing happened, I leaned out and looked up, trying to see what could have made such a racket.

…bbzzzippp…

I flattened against the flower and willed my heart to calm. Whatever it was, it obviously flew.

More silence.

A waft of green pepper.

The pitchfork held remnants of the minty leaves from the barn. Aphids loved mint. So where was the pepper smell coming from?—

My sixth sense—instinct—what it was called had me lunge forward before I was decapitated by a pair of mandibles.

I scampered back and got onto my feet and held my weapon out to the largest ladybug I’d ever seen in my life. It was larger than the aphids it hunted, just as they were on Earth.

It all suddenly made sense. Ladybugs were predators who loved eating aphids. It is why ants that farmed aphids often brought them inside the nest for their protection. And the barn! Ladybugs hated the smell of mint. It confused their sensitive olfactory system.

The spotted beetle that was a favorite of children and considered lucky by many only ate soft-bodied prey, and I could see it gearing up to launch at me. I could try to run, but the fucker flew. I didn’t want to die like I was in a Jurassic Park movie.

I took a deep breath, gripped my pitchfork and readied for a fight. “Come on, asshole. Let’s do this.” I wish I could say that I was badass for facing my monster, but I was sure I looked ridiculous doing so while wearing a leaf.

As if recognizing the danger of the tool in my hand, rather than pouncing, it left the stem for the ground. It came forward, testing me. I jabbed the fork toward the insect.

The dark eyes of the beetle told me it was sentient on some level. I could tell it was weighing options.

“I know I look tasty, but you don’t want to fuck with me.” I narrowed my gaze and tried to make myself look larger. “Go on—leave. Go find something else to eat.”

“No,” it whispered in a weird gnashing hiss.

Was it laughing at me?

---