For the past three months, she had been unable to look directly at a watermelon without growing desperately and uncontrollably aroused. That sweet juicy nectar dripping from her mouth all the way down to her…
She knew it was wrong to put so much as a fist inside of her. She knew what physical cost would come with a watermelon. But god, the look of it, so pink and inviting.
Perhaps her fascination began as a child, with the age-old warning that if you swallow a watermelon seed, it will sprout a vine in your stomach. She longed for the feeling of her mouth being forced open, jaw beginning to cramp, as that thick, hard branch forced its way out between her parted lips. The room began to feel hot as she stared at the melon, its waxed, shiny skin hypnotizing her, drawing her closer. She craved its seed. No, she *needed* its seed. Her vagina, mouth, and anus reduced to slobbering stretch-holes as she became flesh for the bones of the new organism within her.