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Seymour put his bandaged hands over his ears and cringed. “I’m sorry, I just don’t have any more! If you take all of it, who’ll look out for you?” The plant pouted and said in a whiny voice, “But I’m starving now!” Seymour sighed and slumped dejectedly. “All right, but could I sleep a little first? Just a couple of hours, so I don’t pass out from blood loss?” The plant folded its leaves across its stem and turned its bud up. “If you must.” Unsteady hands fumbled at the bedding on the little rickety cot. Seymour kicked off his shoes and fell onto his bed, nearly spilling off the other side. He shifted around until he found the comfy spot; two minutes later he drifted into uneasy dreams… “Seeeeeeymoooouuurrrrrr…” He followed the voice to a white picket fence, behind which his lady fair awaited. Audrey greeted him with arms spread wide, giving him a nice eyeful of polka-dot wrapped boobies. “I’ve been waiting for you, for so long,” she sighed, her nasal voice dripping with desire. “Oh, Audrey!” Seymour picked her up and swung her around, and as he lay her down on the neat and even lawn he realized that she was now naked – and so was he. Looking down on her, he saw the body of a goddess, the classic American beauty so sought after by military men and auto mechanics. And his own dream-body looked fit and trim, like a college badminton star, not at all like he really looked which meant this was going to be one very good dream. Delicate hands explored Little Seymour, rubbing and squeezing until it became Seymour the Mighty, He Who Stands Tall Above the Mossy Canyon. “Audrey, I love you!” Seymour the First cried out, caressing her smooth and supple skin. “I know,” came the murmured reply, husky and low. The hands continued playing with Seymour the Mighty et al, stroking as though they knew how he touched himself on those long and lonely nights by himself in the stockroom. “That’s it, cowboy,” Audrey cooed, urging him onward. “Show me what you’ve got.” If Seymour hadn’t been sleeping, he would have fainted. As it was, he surrendered to the most mind-blowing orgasm he’d ever had, bucking against the touch that milked spurt after spurt from his astonished member with practiced ease. Sleep began to fade from him, no doubt a bit of conditioning left over from his awkward years of puberty. He whispered, “I’ll marry you someday, Audrey,” and blew her a grateful kiss as the dream vanished back into the sticky night. “How sweet, but I don’t think it’s legal,” the plant he’d named Audrey II chuckled. Nimble tendrils withdrew from his bed, white droplets clinging to the green. “What – how – you didn’t! I couldn’t!” Seymour wailed, backing away only to discover his pants were sliding off. He looked utterly shocked, glancing from his fly to the plant and back several times. “Did you? Oh, no!” Audrey II brought its tendrils up to its thick lips and licked the cum off with flourish. “Never fear, Seymour! You have plenty more where that came from.” Seymour stared. “You didn’t just – you did? You can eat that?” “Looks that way.” Seymour regarded his bandaged hands, the fingers still throbbing beneath the gauze; then his crotch, fly open and cock happily, joyfully limp; then the plant, smug and well-fed and quiet for the first time that night. “You know, this might not be a bad thing after all…”