Author’s Note:

Hey, everyone, welcome to the 4-chapter special! If you haven’t read the full version of The Yoni Flower, Chapter 8 is a crossover between Lizzy and some familiar faces from The Yoni Flower. Also, just a head’s up, Chapter 7 is more splatterpunk/horror than erotica and Chapter 8-9 are mostly just developmental stuff so you can learn more about the glizzy flower. I know everyone is looking for tons of Sex and whatnot, but it’s hard to write a book for publication with all Sex and no story. If all you’re looking for is naughty stuff, please go on ahead and skip to Chapter 10 in this post.

Per usual, please check out either my bio or the comments for updates! I’ll be posting a few new stories on here soon!

Chapter 7:

Flower Glizzy Jizz Sickness

Lizzy Rutherford | 18

Friday night

A flash of pain throbs in my womb, jarring me out of my sleep like a punch to the gut. I’m so woozy and delirious that I just lay there staring at the clock on the nightstand beside me for a long while, trying to figure out how it’s only 11:00 p.m.–trying to figure out why I’m even in bed so early. That’s when I remember the events leading up to me crawling into bed at freaking 10:00 p.m. with a womb full of sludge–sludge that has everything down there feeling warm and fizzy like Hot, thickened vinegar just got mixed with baking soda.

That super-uncomfortable fizzy feeling on top of the intense cramps and the uterine fever made it hard to fall asleep at first. But then, a few minutes into laying down, my whole body got a little feverish and the drowsiness I’ve been experiencing since the glizzy flower splooged in me pretty much knocked me out around the time I started shivering.

A few minutes after finally falling asleep, loud neighing woke me up. As concerned as I was that something was wrong in the barn, I felt too sedated and cold to force myself out of bed to look out the window. I mean, I did try but, when I rolled over, I blinked and passed right the fuck out.

Now, as the pain dulls into a mild cramp, I realize that my body is trembling and I’m drenched in sweat.

I definitely have a fever, I think to myself, clutching a pillow to my abdomen and curling into fetal position.

The thought crosses my mind to get up and grab Tylenol from the bathroom, but then I remember I drank copious alcohol earlier, which makes me recall Jake Landau’s warning to never mix the two if I didn’t want my liver to fail.

The fever will break on its own. If it doesn’t, I’ll take Tylenol in the morning when I’m sober, I think, shutting my eyes.

Consciousness fades to blackness seconds later.

***

“AHH!” I scream, my eyelids going from shut to wide open in an instant when another uterine cramp wakes me.

The first thing I notice is that I no longer have fever chills. However, I still don’t feel warm. Probably because my clothes and sheets are drenched in a cold sweat.

I guess the fever broke, I think, pressing the back of my hand against my cold, clammy neck. As my eyes loll over to the clock that’s now displaying 3:33 a.m., I hear a toilet flush down the hall. I wonder if that’s Whitney… I should ask her if she’s been going through what I have…

Now that I finally have the strength to move, I desperately want to get out of these wet clothes. Right when I sit up, something cold and thick squishes between my thighs, making me realize that the wetness I felt down there when I first woke up isn’t from sweat-drenched panties.

Ewww, I think, grabbing my phone from the nightstand. What is that? Did all the womb sludge gush out in my sleep?

After turning on my Samsung Galaxy’s flashlight, I pull the covers off, aim the light at my lap then lift my undies and sweat pants. The second I see what’s jiggling in the crotch of my panties, I gag and slap my hand over my mouth.

That’s fucking disgusting, I think, staring in horror at this gelatinous mass of what I can only describe as pureed salmon with chunks of cranberry sauce and white, lumpy globs that resemble cottage cheese mixed in. Upon bringing my light closer, I see some amber streaks in the white and pink filth-pudding…

Whatever this crap is, the smell that wafts out of my pants is musky, sort of sweet, and slightly metallic–a combination that makes me wince and gag even harder.

“Oh god… what is that?” I whisper into my hand, trembling from the worsening panic. “And why is it pink and red instead of mostly white?”

Looks sort of like my menstrual flow, but I just had my period, like, a week ago… Is my uterus fucking dissolving or something? The thought makes my heart race even worse.

Staring at the horror show between my legs with unblinking eyes, I try to figure out how to get out of bed without this gelatinous glob spilling all over the floor. During my brainstorming session, another cramp strikes. As I double over in pain, there’s this bubbly, squirt noise coming from between my legs that sounds like someone is squeezing mac and cheese through one of those Heinz bottle nozzles. It sounds like a wet queef…

“Ah! Ah! Ah!” I groan each time my Vagina rhythmically contracts. It feels good, but it’s also hella uncomfortable.

Towards the tail end of the contractions, pink and white gunk oozes out from between my folds with an obscenely loud, bubbly spurt, pouring out of me like a thick fruit smoothie that wasn’t fully blended.

“What. The. Fuck.” I whisper, watching the grossness clump onto the jam in my panties. “What the fuck! What the fuck!” My words come out in a panic.

Maybe I started my period early. Yeah, that’s why it’s pink–that’s why there are red chunks. The white sludge mixed with period blood, and white and red make pink. That’s it…

Not wanting to lay there with my panties full of filth, I release my waistband, reach down and cup my Vagina from the outside of my pajama bottoms, climb out of bed carefully, then waddle my way to my bathroom. Somehow, I make it past the sink before cold, globs start running down my leg at a snail’s pace.

Only after climbing into my bathtub do I pull my pants and undies down. Right as I’m stepping out of my bottoms, my uterus cramps hard then my Vagina starts flexing almost like an Orgasm. Chunky jam spurts noisily out of my Vagina again then it splatters against the floor of the tub. Once the contractions pass, I reluctantly slip two fingers into me to scoop the remaining stuff out of me. The gunk my digits press into feels like mashed potatoes and filling from a fruit pie, and there’s a lot in there. After scooping most of it out, I turn on the water and rinse off my Vagina and thighs. Now that I’m somewhat clean, I sit on the toilet and double over, resting my elbows against my thighs in preparation for the next cramp and expulsion. It doesn’t take much waiting for it to come.

“GAHH!” I groan as my womb spasms and clenches.

Globs of the stuff pour out of me like my Pussy is a froyo dispenser. From the looks of it, it’s about another half-a-cup’s-worth. Between what I woke up to in my pants, what came out in the tub, and the volume of muck I birthed just now, I am extremely alarmed. The only thing stopping me from calling 911–other than the embarrassment of having to explain how this happened–is the fact that I left my phone on the bed and I’m scared that I’ll gush all over my carpet if I go get it.

The cramping and subsequent oozing of pink gunk from my womb and Vagina come in waves that ripple through me at shorter and shorter intervals. It feels like my uterus is a jelly bottle and there’s a hand inside of me desperately trying to squeeze out every last drop.

For about twenty to thirty minutes, gelatinous gunk is repeatedly expelled into the toilet with each wave of cramps. The pain, the fear that something is horribly wrong with me–it leaves me crying quietly on the toilet the entire time.

“AHHRGHH-GAH!” I groan quietly as my womb cramps harder than it has all night. At the tail end of my groan, I transition to sobbing.

Despite that being the hardest cramp ever, only a little bit of the gross womb jam plops down into the toilet water.

The last contractions went from, like, three minutes apart to two minutes apart to around one minute. So, when five minutes pass and nothing happens, I start feeling hopeful–so hopeful that my heart rate finally slows and I stop trembling.

After another twenty minutes or so passes without a cramp, I sigh in relief and decide it’s time to get off the toilet and clean up.

It’s over, I think, wiping myself with sanitizing wipes. My fever is gone and the cramps are done, so it’s over now, right? Please tell me it’s over…

Whitney Emmerich | 18

Saturday, sometime after 3:00 a.m.

I’ve been hunched over on the toilet with my elbows propped up on my thighs and my chin resting in my palms for so long waiting for the cramps to resume again that I’m starting to doze off. Just as my heavy eyelids are slowly shutting against my will, I hear a toilet flush down the hall.

That must be Lizzy, I think, sitting upright. I heard her Shower running for a bit about thirty or forty minutes ago. My guess is that she probably woke up to a mess in her panties like I did so she washed up quick, like I did, before sitting on the toilet to ride out the cramps and the violent discharge of sludge. If she’s flushing, that means she’s done. And if she’s done, it should mean I’m done. Because she had way more glizzy jizz injected into her womb than I did…

It’s been about fifteen minutes since my last expulsion, and since I’m feeling mostly back to normal and my womb doesn’t feel full and Hot anymore, I figure it’s safe to leave the potty.

It’s finally over, I think, wiping myself clean before rising. I reluctantly gaze down at the gelatinous mass of pink jelly that’s horrifically decorated with clumps of what looks like scrambled egg whites and congealed red chunks–the mound of filth sitting in a layer of the dense amber slime that sank to the bottom of the water. The sight of it and the dank odor makes me dry heave. If I hadn’t thrown up before I went to bed, I’d probably be puking right now.

I reach down to flush it but I decide to take a picture of it first, just in case I need to show a doctor. Problem is, I passed out without plugging in my phone to charge, so I’m gonna have to grab my charger and come back. For now, I just close the lid.

As I stand before the sink, I stare at the reflection of the naked sweaty, exhausted-looking strawberry blonde before me, scanning her from head to belly, looking at all the slightly red blotches all over her skin.

Wow, the bumps are already gone! I’ve never had a rash clear up that fast before.

Not long after getting out of the Shower and curling up on the living room couch across from where Savanna was sleeping, I got feverish and super itchy all over. That’s about when the nausea came on. Eventually, I got so itchy that I had no choice but to rush to the bathroom and find out what was wrong. And since Piper was still puking her guts out in the first-floor bathroom, I checked to see if she was okay before heading all the way back upstairs. Getting up those stairs was a struggle because I felt too weak and achy to stand, never mind climb steps.

As soon as I stood in front of Eli’s bathroom mirror, my eyes widened at the sight of the red patches on my face, arms, and neck. It wasn’t until I brought my arm to my face that I realized some blotches had bumps popping up. After lifting my shirt and pulling down my pants, I discovered that pretty much everywhere the amber-colored ejaculate sprayed me had broken out in a rash. However, the spots where only the white cream blasted me were rash-Free.

Then, right as I put my clothes back on, my stomach gurgled and my mouth flooded with puke. Somehow, I got the lid up before cream, bile, and the water I’d just drank sprayed out of my mouth. Unlike Piper, I only puked twice and felt okay enough to lay back down after.

Between the itching, the cramps, and the mild nausea, it was hard to sleep but, eventually, the drowsiness knocked me out. That is, until I woke up about an hour and a half ago to cramps, diarrhea-like noises coming from my Vagina, and a crotch-full chunky cold stuff… Chunky cold stuff that rolled down my legs like oatmeal and splattered the floor and stairs during my run back to the upstairs bathroom.

Stuff I still have to clean up…

The cramps were horrendously painful, but I didn’t think I’d die from them. And, while the fever and rash had me pretty concerned, I didn’t think I might be dying until I saw and smelled the horror in my panties–until wave after wave of cramps had something resembling a blend of liquified meat and strawberry jam with streams of runny brown slime continuously erupting out of my cunt for almost an hour straight. That shit was beyond terrifying. I called out for help, but no one came to my aid. And since my phone was dead, I couldn’t even call the girls or my mom. So, I just sat there crying while having a panic attack until it finally stopped about fifteen to twenty minutes ago.

A knock at the door comes right as I’m in the middle of washing my hands. “Whitney, is that you?” Lizzy says quietly.

“Yup,” I say, cutting off the water. “You okay?”

“Now I am,” she says. “You?”

“Yeah…” I pull my shirt over my head. “Hey, can I borrow a pair of underwear?”

“I already brought you a pair, along with pajama bottoms. Figured you were going through what I was going through since we both let that thing cream us.” She lets out a nervous giggle.

When it occurs to me that we’ve spent the last part of our evening naked in front of each other, I just open the door wide and flash her a smile. “It was so bad, Lizzy,” I say, taking the clothes from her.

She turns around to give me privacy. “I legit thought I was dying…”

“Me too…” I say, pulling up the undies. “Alright, you can turn around now.”

She does, then her grayish-blue eyes widen. “Your skin… it’s all blotchy!”

“You should’ve seen it before… I had all these little bumps popping up after my Shower, but the itching stopped when the fever broke, and I guess the rash went away around then.”

“Well, that’s good.”

“Yeah…” I scan her mouth and neck. “I take it you didn’t have a rash?”

She shakes her head. “Just fever, cramps, and globs of gross jelly gushing out of me…”

“That’s probably because you didn’t get do a bukkake in the brown ejaculate like I did… Sav pretty much only had the amber slime directly on her belly and thighs since she was covered in white cream from the tits up. So, if she has a rash below her boobs and nowhere else, and if Piper doesn’t have a rash at all, we’ll know that’s what caused the bumps.”

“Yeah, I was gonna check on them next.”

I turn to the toilet. “I didn’t flush because I wanted to take a picture after I charged my phone… You wanna see if what I menstruated looks like what came out of you?”

Lizzy winces. “I took a picture too… But, yeah… At this point, I doubt anything will gross me out.”

I lift the lid and gag as soon as I set eyes on it.

Lizzy gags too. “Yeah… about the same as mine,” she says, thumbing away at her phone. “I had more of the cottage cheese-looking globs, and there wasn’t nearly as much of that brown stuff in my panties, the tub, or in the toilet.”

“Hmm… Yeah, that stuff was pouring out of me like maple syrup. Super thin, kinda sticky… Pretty much looked like the ejaculate that me and Sav showered in…”

“I mean, some brown stuff leaked out of me right after I pulled the glizzy out of me, but not that much… I guess that means more of the amber slime comes out the longer the plant cums…”

“That’s the conclusion I came to too…” I say, closing the lid. “Alright, let’s go check on Pipes. She was puking like crazy earlier, and I saw the downstairs bathroom light was still on around 2:30 when I ran back up here…”

“Oh, shit…”

“Yeah… Oh, and fair warning… Since I wasn’t wearing panties under my shorts, goo was dripping down my legs from the time I got off the couch, so watch your step in the hall and on the stairs.”

She winces. “Noted. And no worries. I’ll help you clean it up after we check on Piper and Savanna.”

I flash her a pitiful smile. “Thanks. Also, speaking of Savanna… Let’s not tell her about our uterine-vaginal diarrhea situation, okay?”

Lizzy’s brows furrow as her face scrunches up. “Eww… Please don’t ever call it that again. And good call. The last thing we need is Sav giving us shit and saying ‘I told you so,‘” she whispers in a nasally voice to mock her.

“Exactly,” I say, giggling after. “I’m too tired and cranky for that shit.”

Piper Cummings | 18

Saturday

Light knocks against the door stir me awake, but I don’t bother opening my eyes. I just groan and nestle the side of my face against the towel I’m using as a pillow, drifting back asleep a second later.

“Piper?” Lizzy calls softly from outside. “You okay?” There’s a short pause, then I hear the doorknob turn ever so slowly. “We’re coming in, okay?”

I groan as I roll over from my spot on the bathroom floor in front of the toilet, squinting both from the bright lights and the soreness in my abdomen from puking for damn near two hours straight.

“Holy shit, girl!” Lizzy says with concern as she and Whitney kneel beside me. “Did you blackout?”

I shake my head as I sit up. “Every time I thought I was done puking, I stood up to leave only to barf before making it to the door. Figured I was better off sleeping by the toilet.”

“Not like you’re not notorious falling asleep hugging toilets after a night of partying,” Whitney says, smirking.

“Right?” I groan, forcing a smile as I slump against the wall across from the toilet. I look over at Whitney. “Hey, you swallowed some glizzy flower jizz, didn’t you? Did you get sick?”

She nods. “I puked, like, twice and that was it.”

I guess that means I was going to puke even if Jake didn’t fuck my face last night…

“Good thing you didn’t drink a liter of the shit like I did,” I mutter. “I basically threw up on and off for, like, three or four hours.”

Lizzy glances down at something besides the towel I was laying on. “Looks like you puked in your sleep too. Good thing you weren’t laying on your back… You could’ve aspirated it and suffocated.”

I glance down and find a puddle of milky slime with yellow bile mixed in. “Fuck… Yeah… Good thing I moved the floor mat…”

“Good thing,” Lizzy echoes. “How are you feeling now? Any better?”

I shiver, my teeth chattering. “I still feel a little nauseous, but it’s not as bad as before.”

Lizzy touches the back of her hand to my neck. “Jesus, you’re burning up…” She turns to Whitney. “She’s still running a fever.”

“Still?” I ask. “You two had fevers too?”

“Yeah,” Lizzy says, turning back to me. “But our fevers broke about an hour or two ago. I’m sure yours’ll pass soon too.”

“It fucking better…” I mutter.

“It will. You just need some water, some rest, and some Advil or something to bring your temperature down.”

“Yeah…” I groan as Lizzy helps me to my feet. As soon as I’m up, my gaze snaps over to the mirror and I stare at the dried white stuff all over my mouth, on the cheek I was sleeping on, and in my hair. “Your uterus still feeling Hot and full, Lizzy?” Right as I’m turning on the faucet, I catch her and Whitney’s reflections sharing a weird look. “What was that look for?” I say, bending over to rinse my face.