Title: Matty’s Recess Part: 1 of 2 Keywords: furry, mc, cubs, tent, plant Universe: Mattyverse Author: just_lurking Summary: Lil’ Matthew Roo is a typical, eleven year-old morph at a typical school in the Twenty Second Century, but he has a not so typical recess ahead of him. “…and so you see how the flower adapts to attract insects to pollinate it by means of natural selection. The insects are attracted to flowers with certain patterns, and those are the flowers which pass on their genes to the next generation…” Matty felt his eyes droop as old Mrs Higgins, his year six teacher, droned on relentlessly. He didn’t want to, but the little kangaroo found the subject mind-numbingly dull. It didn’t help that his, ninety-seven year old, human, teacher could remove the fun from *any* topic. The school didn’t organise trips to Disneyland, but if it did Matty was certain that Mrs Higgins would be the one who turned it into a death march. “…the mechanism for actually spreading the fertilised seeds is similar. The tomato, for example, makes itself appetising so that animals will eat it. The seeds pass through the animal over the course of a couple of hours, and, hopefully, a couple of miles. A fruit which is not appealing to animals will not get spread. The seed spreader, like the pollinator, has to *want* to help…” Matty rested his head on the desk in front of him. He wanted just a few seconds shut-eye, nothing more. He was just resting his eyes. “Matthew Roo, are you paying attention?” Matty jumped to attention in his chair. “I’m awake! I’m awake!” He said, too fast. Mrs Higgins stood over him. Her thin lips and her wrinkled old face were set in her favourite position—a disapproving frown. The rest of the class just tittered. The cubs were relieved that something was happening at last. No one liked Mrs Higgins’ speeches, except for that swat, Emily Castur, of course. “You’re a slacker and a trouble maker Matthew Roo.” Mrs Higgins said. Matty hated how she used his name. She always spoke his surname as if it was something filthy. Roo, Kanga, Skippy and a dozen others were names given to the early kangaroo morphs, back in the bad old days. Mrs Higgins was just old enough to remember the end of the twenty first century, when anti-morph prejudice was accepted. Matty always suspected she secretly missed those days. Although over half the class was non-human (there were three Felixes, two Rovers, two Rexes, a Reynard, and a dozen others) none of the furry children were favourites of Mrs Higgins, and Mrs Higgins did have favourite pupils. Matty braced himself for the inevitable story about life in Mrs Higgins’ ‘day’. “Back in my day,” Mrs Higgins lectured, “you would be one of those louts always hiding behind the bike shed smoking. I know it.” “What’s smoking?” Matty asked in confusion. Mrs Higgins blinked at him. Tobacco had been outlawed thirty years before Matty’s birth, but to Mrs Higgins it still seemed like yesterday. Matty watched his teacher’s face shift from disbelief to anger. He had said the wrong thing, although he had no idea what it was, and now he was in trouble with Mrs Higgins. He was saved by the bell—literally. The PA chimed twice, and the calm, smooth voice of Victoria Junior School’s AI spoke. “Fourth period ends. First recess begins.” The genderless voice announced in perfect English, “Play well, and be back in class, in half an hour, for fifth period.” Matty pushed back his chair, and ran for the cloakroom to get his lunch box. He was eager to delay his encounter with Mrs Higgins for as long as possible. He hoped that she would forget about it over recess. The other cubs piled into the cloakroom with him, and after a brief struggle in the cramped room he emerged onto the playground with his blue lunch box. Matty was still confused about Mrs Higgins’ reaction to his question. He looked over at the bike shed, and thought. Whatever smoking was it seemed to have something to do with being behind the bike shed, besides if Mrs Higgins thought it was a bad thing then it was probably pretty cool. Matty grinned as he headed off to see what was behind the bike shed. Victoria Junior’s shed was in the courtyard behind the gym, up against a hedge. No one else was there. The playing fields were on the other side of the building, and riding bikes on the field was forbidden. Matty looked at the gap between the back of the shed and the hedge. It wasn’t very large. His stomach rumbled—reminding him that it wanted attention too. The joey patted it, “I’ll eat behind the shed, okay?” That seemed to calm the rumbling. Matty pushed his way between the shed and the hedge. It was a tight squeeze. For a moment or two the foliage was so thick that he couldn’t see, but it quickly widened out, and Matty stumbled into a ‘hollow’ in the hedge. He stood there for a moment or two and looked about for the mysterious ‘smoking’. The hollow had four or five strange, squat, blue flowers growing low to the ground, but no ‘smoking’ that Matty could see. The flowers had five short, broad, triangular petals around their base. Above, and dwarfing, the petals was a single large pistil. The base of the pistil was a bulbous green sphere, about the size of a basketball. The top was a single rigid stalk, which was about four centimetres in diameter, twenty in length, and terminated in a pointed head with a little hole. Each flower lay in the centre of a nest of thick vines. The vines covered the ground, especially close to the flowers. The different flower’s vines were enmeshed and entangled with each other. He shrugged his shoulders, and turned his attention to his lunch box. His fingers were just on the catches when he felt something wrap around his throat and jerk him back. The joey tried to scream, but the tentacle around his neck was too tight, and all he could managed were a couple of croaking noises. The strong plant-tendril pulled him so he was laying on his back, with his legs kicking the air wildly, a few feet from his forgotten lunch box. His hands clawed at the plant beneath his chin to no avail. He could neither scratch it nor loosen it. The memory of a news report about an escaped extraterrestrial pet that brutally savaged an unsuspecting bystander came unbidden to his mind. That had been a few months back. Matty realised this month’s story might be about him. Before him, two dozen tentacles suddenly reared up from the mass like cobras. The cub almost had a heart attack. He was too panicked to study the swaying limbs, but if he had been in a more detached state of mind he would have noticed there were several verities among them. Some were thick coils of dark green, which ended in blunt tips. Others were thinner, and secreted a yellow substance along the last metre of their length. Two thin tentacles had tips that vibrated so fast and finely that their edges were a blur. A couple of the tick tentacles were hollow with holes at their tips. The thick blunt tentacles descended on the vulnerable cub first. They slipped under his shorts and polo shirt, either side of him, and pulled. The fabric tore easily. His shirt was ripped either side, and only hung on him by his collar. The left leg of his shorts gave way first and they slipped down his right leg. One of the blunt limbs wrapped itself around his belly, and lifted him so that his rump was slightly higher than his head. The other blunt tipped vine tore his cartoon print undies from his frame, exposing his nether regions to the cold air. Meanwhile the vibrating tentacles had also moved on the child. They hovered above his head. When his eyes weren’t screwed shut, Matty could see that they were slightly brown at their tips, and they vibrated as finely as moths antennae. There was a small hole at the tip of each which he could now see clearly. They continued up his head. The first of the thin yellow-tipped tentacles advanced on Matty’s helpless rump. Matty followed it with his eyes—confused. The innocent cub couldn’t fathom why it was dipping between his legs. He quickly discovered the reason. He tried to scream again as the vine forced its way into his body. The yellow secretion acted as a lubricant, but it was still the first time the cub’s tail hole had accepted anything, and it hurt. The plant didn’t seem to care as it started to rock in and out of Matty. The vibrating tentacles reached into the joey’s long ears. They tickled as they entered the just-slightly-bigger-than-themselves caverns. It was a strange sensation, that didn’t ease Matty’s tears one jot. Once they were embedded a centimetre in, they halted, and started spraying globs on sticky liquid into the unfortunate boy’s ears. Joey could feel the cold liquid overflow, and run out over the back of his head. The liquid that remained in him started to solidify, freezing his ears in position. The vines continued to spurt, and soon his ear canal was packed solid. This had the effect of muting the outside world, and carrying the vibrations of the vines directly to his ear drums. It was a low bassy, rumble, like a buzzing that Matty heard. Both vines pumped their noise into his ears making it seem that the sounds originated at some point inside his head. The bristly vine dipped into Matty’s open maw. It rested in his muzzle unmoving. The hairs were springy but not sharp. They brushed against the top, bottom and sides of his muzzle, spreading their milk about as they did so. He tried biting on it, but it had no effect, and he was having too much difficulty breathing around the constricting vine on his neck to keep his jaw clenched. The yellow vine in his behind exploded suddenly—pumping his rear end full of liquid. Matty’s, already streaming, tears intensified. The vine pulled out, and a torrent of liquid sloshed out and onto the ground with it. Matty thought that the pain in his tail hole would never go away. He watched the tentacle, coated with his tail juices, withdraw and slink away. One of the hollow tentacles was hovering over Matty’s mostly-human sheath and balls for reasons he didn’t understand. A fresh yellow vine moved to take place of the spent one in his bum. He chewed anxiously on the length in his maw. The thought of a second round with the plant causing him to whimper. Chewing on the bristles seemed to stimulate it to produce more milk. Matty found a little puddle quickly forming in his mouth. It tasted sugary, and seemed to evaporate on his tongue filling his throat with a sweet mist which made him light headed. Reflexively he swallowed it. Almost immediately the pain in his overstretched ring faded from a burning sensation to just a few sharp pin pricks. Matty connected the dots immediately, and—spurred on by the descending limb and the promise of fresh pain—Matty began sucking on the brush furiously. The restraining limb around his throat loosened slightly—allowing the cub his first full lungful of air since his violation began. The yellow tentacle was pressing at his tail hole now. Matty drank the liquid offered to him, and braced himself for penetration. He was so focused on his tail hole and muzzle that he failed to notice how cloudy his vision was becoming and how relaxed his muscles were. The humming in the background of his thoughts was a relief compared to the pain that had so recently dominated. The second entrance was much more pleasant than the first had been. The milk dulled the pain almost entirely, but all other sensations seemed unaffected. The joey could feel the contours of the plant as it slipped past his ring. It set a rhythm—back and forth—occasionally brushing against something pleasant in the cubs belly. The limb around his throat withdrew all together. Only the vine holding his rump in the air restrained him now. Matty fell into the rhythm set by the plant. Taking long sucks of the brush each time the tentacle inside him withdrew. He was even relaxing his behind as it thrust into him, and clenching down as it pulled out. Matty was shocked out of his lust induced haze for a moment: He didn’t know anything about that sot of thing! It was then, with his concious slightly roused from it’s stupor, that he notice the buzzing between his ears. He could hear distinct waves now. Rising and falling in pitch. One wave rose as his muzzle closed on the brush, and fell as he opened it. Another as his tail clenched and relaxed. It was then that Matty realised the truth. The waves weren’t following his actions, he was following the waves. He listened carefully. There were others buried in the noise. One controlled his pleasure. He felt ecstasy as the pitch rose. A red-hot, pink sensation of bliss and satisfaction, which lit up the back of his mind. The wave crested every time the tentacle in his behind was hilted in him. There was another wave. Quieter than the others. Maybe twice as fast. Matty listened closely. The beat seemed to travel down his spine to his balls. He felt his young roohood throb when the pitch descended. It alternated with the ecstasy. Throb-bliss. Throb-not-bliss. Throb-bliss. Throb-not-bliss. Over and over. His cubhood began to stiffen, and push out from his sheath as the wave-induced throbs assaulted it relentlessly. Hilt-throb. Withdraw-throb. Hilt-throb. Withdraw-throb. The hollow tentacle was waiting for his immature length. It pushed down on his pink tip as soon it peeked from his sheath. Soon all four inches of the cub’s cock were wrapped in the slick tube. It twisted and sucked between the joey’s throbs. Hilt-bliss-throb. Suck. Withdraw-throb. Twist. Hilt-bliss-throb. Suck. Withdraw-throb. Twist. Matty squirmed in pleasure as the plant conditioned him. He would have been moaning loud enough to alert a teacher if the plant hadn’t been making him suck the bristles in his mouth. As it was, all sorts of ecstatic gasps and groans escaped the overstimulated cub’s mouth between gulps of the milk. What little awareness he had gathered had long since deserted him. He was a glowing point of pleasure—entirely oblivious of the outside world. The tentacle in his behind hilted hard and deep, the pleasure wave rose in pitch and Matty felt his bum flooded with more liquid. Throughout the climax the only thought running through Matty’s mind was, “Oh! This is so good. Oh! This is so good.” Over and over, and in time with the cresting of the bliss wave. The plant programmed the cub to associate being filled with ecstasy of the strongest sort. Matty actually whimpered in disappointment as the invader withdrew from his violated body. There was a pop and a sloshing sound, then Matty was empty. The buzzing tendrils in his ears, the bristle tipped length in his maw and the vine wrapped around his cubhood all stayed attached. Matty spread his legs and waited to be filled again. He whined in frustration as he remained empty for over a minute. The buzzing kept directing his actions. His mouth kept suckling the milk, his dick kept jumping in the pulsing vine, his tail hole was clenched tight by the hight pitched whine in his ears and the ecstasy in his mind built and faded. No other vine came to claim his rump though. Then another of the blunt tipped vines wrapped itself under the cubs arms. Matty felt himself lifted into the air, and carried towards one of the bulbs in the centre of the space. The pleasure wave ascended in pitch as he drew nearer to it, and he chewed in giddy anticipation of what was to come. Matty swung his legs up and lifted his tail to give the plant better access. He was positioned above the flower, and slowly lowered onto its pistil. His bum remained tightly clenched until the pointed tip brushed against it. The wave changed suddenly, dropping lower than he had heard it go yet, and his tail hole loosened completely. He was dropped quickly onto the length, and only a little of the liquid in him escaped. Little rivers ran down the length, and over the ball at it’s base. The remainder stayed plugged up inside Matty thanks to the flower’s girth. Matty’s knees touched the ground either side of the basket ball shaped lump. The bristle tipped vine withdrew, as did the supporting tentacles. Only the control tendrils in his ears, and the hollow vine on his length remained. Matty stroked the dark-green bulge between his knees lovingly. He felt absolutely euphoric. He wasn’t aware that the plant was slowly ratcheting up the pleasure levels. It wanted the cub to crave this part of the procedure most of all. The bulge rumbled under the roo’s finger tips. There was a pause, and then the ball contracted—hard. Matty felt a ball, about the size of an orange, being forced up the tube. The sphere stopped where it met his tail hole. Its progress halted by the tight ring, but the contractions continued, and the pressure slowly built until it was forced through. Meanwhile the plant had been slowly increasing the pitch and volume of the waves in the boy’s mind. The throbbing in his private parts had melted into one long continuous sensation. Thro-Thro-Trob-Thr-Thr-Throb. While the tentacle gripping it had gone into over drive. Matty was bucking on the flower wildly as it impregnated him. A stream of yelps and moans flowed from his freed muzzle. The seed reached the end of the plant, deep inside the boy. It pushed at the elastic material at the tip—straining to break free. The plant spiked the waves one last time, while sucking vigorously on the boy. THROB-SUCK-ORGASM! The seed cannonballed into the side of the child’s gut. Matty yelled, and bucked his hips. His balls emptied into the vine before him. The plant had achieved it’s objective. The association between pollinating the plant and the greatest orgasm of the child’s life had been made irrevocably in Matty’s young mind. The plant wasted no time. The hollow vine relinquished it’s grip and withdrew. The vines in his ears squirted a liquid which dissolved the solid mass holding them in. White liquid poured from his ears down over his forehead. The vibrating tentacles slinked off to join their brethren. Slowly Matty came back to himself. It took almost five minutes before he was truly aware, but without the plant’s influence he was slowly returning to normal. He lifted himself from the flower, and looked around–dazed. His bum was till clenched. The buzzing noise still played in the back of his mind, and it still controlled him. Matty wanted more! He got on his hands and knees—doggy style—and presented himself to the tentacles. One or two nuzzled him inquisitively, but backed off. Matty whined, and tried again with the same result. Mournfully he stood, in the ragged remains of his clothes, and brushed his slightly-swollen belly as he pondered the plants’ sudden reluctance. The answer hit him out of the blue. It was the seed which stopped the plants from taking him. Matty almost squatted down and expelled the seed right there, but he was a responsible and thoughtful boy. He was grateful to the plant for all the pleasure it had given him, and he felt ready to defend it from all who might wish it harm. Matty realised that it would be much more beneficial to the plant if he were to carry it’s seed some distance before planting it. The young joey considered suitable locations for his charge. He settled on the tree-fort in the wooded area behind the community centre. It had everything the plant would need: soil, water, light and cubs. The centre was on his way home, and Matty resolved to stop there that afternoon. Matty picked up his lunch box. It was still full, but he didn’t feel hungry any more. The milk had been quite filling, and his insides were still full of the liquid and the seed. He sauntered off to the gym to clean himself off, and fetch his spare uniform. A contented smile crossed Matty’s lips as he thought about all the fun he could have with his beloved plant tomorrow. He thought about introducing his best friend Malcolm to it, as he pulled strands of white gloop from his hair.