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.

