By littlemaiko

The mansion stood very still. Chris Redfield heard his own footsteps clearer than anything else in the building. Anything, that is, save for the harsh noise of Wesker's shoes falling over the floor right behind him. Walking at the threat of gunpoint did not add to the joy of this trek.

I can't believe this... a traitor among S.T.A.R.S...

Chris kept his hands up in the air by his head as he had been instructed. His shoulders began to hurt, but he knew the rules of being a captive. One had to obey or be shot in the head, unless the occasion called for some utility value of life. As far as he could tell, Wesker only kept him alive out of whim. Why else would he be singled out to survive out of the entire S.T.A.R.S.?

The two men were out in the courtyard now where unseen creatures lurked. Down the small elevator, taking a small detour while Wesker popped out the battery of the device for whatever mischief, and through the narrow walkway leading to a separate facility. Chris had no idea where they were going.

"Keep on walking, Chris. Through that door," commanded Wesker.

Chris turned the cold metal knob and stepped into the wooden, rundown structure. Wooden floor tiles were missing here and there, as though something had burst through from the space below. The scene did not give him good vibes; his heart raced in anticipation of encountering undead monsters. The air reeked of rotten salad.

I wonder if Jill and Barry are all right.

Opening several more doors down the winding corridors, Chris reached a dead-end with an ominous oak door. Wesker urged him on with hard nuzzle of the pistol.

"Aha."

Wesker's utterance was followed by a blinding pain in the back of the young man's head. Light brown eyes rolled back from the impact of the blow, but the image of nightmarish "greenhouse" remained with his receding consciousness.

Albert Wesker took off his sunglasses and studied the morsel he had brought in for the Plant. From the number of days that had passed since the outbreak of virus, he figured that the poor creature had not had decent food in a while. All that would be taken care of soon. Chris was a fine young man, surely a satisfying meal in every sense.

The main body of Plant 42 had grown too large for Wesker to approach safely. Instead of heading to the main hall housing the monstrosity, he chose this room. The room used to be a tiny bedroom, but now one entire wall was lined with wavering tendrils of the Plant. Through large cracks, moistened vines slithered in and out.

"Well, Chris, let's get you ready."

Kneeling down, Wesker removed the unconscious captive's vest and shirt with expert efficiency. A bit of blood stained the shirt as he pulled it over the brown head; he had struck a little too hard, it seemed. He only raised an eyebrow at the beautiful contours of muscles revealed. He had guessed so much; Chris worked out with a vengeance every morning. Gloves and wristwatch joined the heap of clothing, followed by heavy boots. Without special sentiments, the blonde unbuckled the belt and opened the fly of uniform pants. His icy eyes traced over what he had bared, approving the smooth bulge of pectorals and six-pack abdomen.

"I might make other uses of you afterwards. Depending how well you hold up," said Wesker. He didn't care if Chris was not listening. The young man had no say in the matter, anyway.

Wesker pulled down the other's pants and briefs, then roughly picked up the limp form. Dead weight of a tall man was no light burden; he dumped Chris on the bed placed against "the wall" and stepped away with much relief. He'd have to get a wheelchair or a stretcher for transporting the body later on.

Safe and out of the reach of active tentacles, the older man pulled a chair and made himself comfortable. He paid close attention, just as he had in every other experimentation. Hopefully, Chris wasn't too out of it as to die without once regaining consciousness.

Oh, the Plant will wake him just fine.

Wesker lit the lamp placed near him by the work desk. The room glowed yellow under the illumination of non-flourescent light. He licked his lips like a lizard, waiting for the Plant to snare its prey.

The prone body had landed face down on the mattress, partially turned to a side. Lean thighs crossed loosely. As for the arms, they were carelessly positioned to the young man's sides. Single tendril reached out first, hovering in imitation of sniffling motion and moving along Chris' back to nape. It stopped over the wound inflicted by Wesker.

Blood, or rather its scent, excited the Plant. The creature's hunger had two means of satisfaction, but they were prompted by the same presence of bloodshed. Without the central stem to really consume the flesh, Wesker knew that the vines would turn to secondary form of feeding. The urge to extract nutrients and implant seeds.

Chris did not stir as another green appendage slid between his upper thighs. The relative thickness of the vine forced his legs to part, at least as far as they were wedged by the mass. Plant 42 always displayed keen understanding of animal physiology, and a few previous human encounters had taught it how to best access the body. Squeezing another vine between the limp limbs, it created coiled holds on the man's legs.

"Ah yes, very clever." Following the uplifting tug with his gaze, Wesker commented upon the Plant's good work. Chris' toes dangled, knees bent powerlessly. The pose was an awkward one to say the least; the right leg had been pulled up into the air, and the left was tucked up to the prey's chest. For now, the Plant did not exert more power in restraining the young man. It had no need to.

Parted thighs revealed the crack of toned buttocks to Wesker's view. He noted the lovely dark-beige hue of the ringed flesh, and turned his mind into guessing what hue of bruised red it might become. Crossing his legs leisurely, he waited for the Plant to proceed.

Third tentacle, about as slim as a man's thumb, floated over to the valley of Chris' hips. It poked delicately along the curve, and stopped upon reaching the pouting fold of anal muscles. Its tip was rounded with a hint of increasing thickness. Just from the way it shifted its angle and wiggled, one could see its agitation. Then, having fixed its aim and course, it shot out and buried deep into the young body.

Chris dreamed that he was having the headache of his lifetime. He tried nuzzling against the pillow, but there was none. His skin rubbed against the rough cotton texture of the bed. In the dream, something restrained his legs and put him in an uncomfortable position. Slimy rope dug into his thigh muscles and held him with iron grip.

.......Wake up, then.

He would have done so, if he didn't wake up screaming at the vivid invasion through his anus. The thrust was quick, and by the time he scrambled to raise his upper body from the mattress, he was filled. Pain and pressure eased as soon as his inside accommodated to the thickness. However, his darting eyes found what had entered him, and he fell into a panicking fit.

"What the fuck....!!??"

Free hands immediately reached down to remedy the situation. Chris grabbed the thin vine and gave it a frantic pull, upon which it dislodged with ease. The exiting sensation reminded him of excretion.

"You'll only make the Plant more aggressive."

"Wesker!!" Chris glared at the blond man who sat as a total spectator of the game. Pale eyes merely reflected his angry face back to his gaze, and he struggled against the bindings on his thighs. Moist vines should have slipped away with vicious squirms, but they held firm and tight.

The mass of vines the young man had seen before losing consciousness came into sudden animation. Hundreds of tendrils, none thicker than an inch in diameter, shot out to surround Chris. Some wrapped around his already imprisoned legs, while others fought with his arms. He swatted and dodged as much as possible, but in the end, the sheer number of assailants won over.

"Dammit!! Let go...!!"

Flexible vines turned taut, forcing Chris' limbs apart. His arms were twisted back and secured by the elbows; only his fingertips remained free to move. His legs fared far worse, for they were dragged beneath and behind his torso until most of his weight came free of the bed. His toes nearly pointed at the ceiling, hefted four feet into the air. Only his head and collar touched the mattress.

"Ugh, gods... get... off me..." Chris groaned tightly against the sheets. His neck suffered from supporting his mass, and the pain from Wesker slugging his head returned double-fold. Luckily or not, the Plant embraced his waist and upper arms to reduce the downward force applied there.

Wesker chuckled and leaned forward with a look of full interest. "You couldn't ask the best bondage master to bind you thus. Isn't it quite an experience, Chris?"

"Go to hell, you... agh, fuck!!!"

The younger man cried out as his legs were forced apart once again. Toes and fingers curled and uncurled, rest of his body unable to show resistance. He twisted his face to see the main mass of vines placed behind him. Several snaked near his hips, threatening to enter him again.

"No....... aaaaaaaaagh!!"

One tentacle shot into Chris, followed another, then yet another. Three pieces moved in accordance to each other to make room, stretching the inner lining without mercy. The thickness amounted to that of several fingers. Feeling the skin at his entrance stretch more than it ought to, he bit his lower lip and strained against the bonds. All monstrous limbs slithered in until they could go no more.

Get it out... get it... shit shit shit shit shit...!!

"Aghhh... ugh... ugh..." Chris grunted from minor pain as the invaders backed out altogether. For the first time in his life, air gushed into his tract, informing him of how much he had been stretched open. Coldness sent shivers down his spine; gelly-like fluid coating the tentacles remained inside him.

"Breathe out upon entry. Breathe in short, then breathe out again as they pull out," came Wesker's mechanical instruction. The captive man had no time to ponder upon the words as he was impaled again with the same thickness.

"Aaaaaagh!! ............Ugh... Ahhhhhhh!!"

Having gained leverage and some flexibility from the resisting human body, the Plant proceeded to thrust with a rhythm. Liquid sound of greenery against flesh accompanied each pump. Chris shook his head as he was deflowered, readied for the next, far more shameful step. Soreness turned into numbness after a few dozen delves.

While the young man gasped in his suspended captivity, Plant 42 released a few thicker limbs from the crack in the wall. These tendrils were as thick as a woman's wrist; one phallic length moved before the prey's face, menacing the nervous brown eyes.

"Agh... mmmmmmmmmmmmmph!!"

"The Plant isn't venomous. You can drink down the discharge."

Wesker became a blur in Chris' senses. His mouth, overfilled with the tentacle, produced piteous gagged muffles. A thin length coiled about his stout neck to still his head. Massive tentacle nudged its way down to first quarter of his throat. Green flavor filled him to the stomach, but he didn't dare to vomit it out. He didn't want to drown in his own bile.

"Mmmmmff... mmm!!"

Suffering outweighed disgust inside the young man's mind as the vine identical to the one in his mouth came into his anus. It slipped in just so that he didn't tear or bleed. He didn't know that he could be suffocated from down below. The pressure only allowed him to exhale through nostrils. Tense muscles melted from weakening shock, and the Plant took that as a go sign.

"Mmmm! Mmmmm!! Mmm... mm...m......."

No, no, no... oh fuck, no...!!

Chris squeezed his eyes shut, letting a few drops of pure agony slide down his strong face. His hands clenched into fists behind his back. The thickness which penetrated him glazed against one spot with each plunge. Even though soreness persisted, that wasn't the cause of his chin tipping up in jolts.

"Mmmmmm.... mmmmmm....!"

Worm-like miniature vines joined in at last. They headed straight for the prisoner's crotch and chest, fastening themselves over the extremities and pink nipples. Wet, fine-sandpaper-like texture of their tips assaulted Chris' senses.

I can't be reacting to this shit. I can't. I can't... I can't...!!

"Mm! Mmm... mm... mmf... umm..." Ragged yet soft heaves escaped Chris, and he put all his willpower in resisting to cry. His cheeks turned crimson from lack of oxygen and coaxed sexual stimulation. From a corner of glistened eyes, he saw Wesker smirking.

The Plant added twisting motion to its violation of the soft tract. By now, each push caused the man's sex to spew droplets of precum. Hardened sacs suffered mild, pleasurable squeezes of tendrils, and the very tip of the engorged member wept under countless caresses. Chris felt his nipples stand hard, licked by the monster.

Cumming... no... no... I... ah, ahhh...

"Go ahead, Chris. The Plant is after your semen. Don't you love the prostate massage?"

Even if he had his mouth free, Chris wouldn't have answered Wesker. He was mewing from approaching orgasm. Angry shine left his eyes completely, and his hips shuddered to welcome the final drive.

"M-mmmmmmmmm!!!!"

Mindless contracting sensation took over Chris, and he gave himself up to the release. Each tentacle ministered to him until he hung like a rag doll within the clutch of the Plant. Milk dripped from his sex, and each drop was consumed by green appendages. He was hardly conscious when he was laid down on the bed, freed save for two thicker coils about his thighs.

"Ahh... nn... stop... stop..." Whimpering remnants of his muffled protests, he grabbed the sheets with powerless fingers. The climax left him weak.

"There is still one more thing to be done. See, the Plant needs means of reproduction. I don't know if it will..." Wesker trailed off, his flat sentence erased by a shrill moan.

I'm afraid he cannot be reused in other experiments.

Wesker thought to himself as he straightened against the chair. Chris Redfield offered a spectacular show, but that seemed to be ending. The young man lay sprawled on the bed, moving along with the Plant's thrusts. Rather, he was pushed and pulled along. Pink tongue hung a little from between the parted lips covered with saliva and the creature's discharge.

"Ahhhhh... ahh... hmmn... n..."

Tentacles hefted up both slack legs, parting them only for the ease of penetration. The thickest vine that had reproductive function delved deep into the helpless body. Chris was bleeding to stain the sheets red, but his tiny cries only consisted of moans; apparently, his pain-sensing nerves had shut down below the waist.

When another, almost equally large appendage touched a side of his mouth, the young man offered himself up for further ravaging. Whatever Plant 42 had injected inside the bleeding tract was a potent aphrodisiac; no trace of fierce Chris Redfield could be seen in the man who parted his lips and suckled at the penis-like vine.

"Mmmmmmmmmm...ghhhhhhh..."

Liquid, gurgling sound made Wesker wince. He saw scarlet color streaming out of Chris' mouth, and understood that the Plant had gone too deep down the throat. Shaking his head, he got up from the chair. He had seen enough; he needed to get a stretcher for the pathetic piece of meat.

Smell of blood followed the blonde as he departed from the room. By the time he returned, he gathered that a mangled patty of "flowerbed" would welcome his sight.

A shame. He would have made a good specimen for Hunter-reproduction too.

Author's notes:

Disclaimer: Resident Evil and all its elements are properties of Capcom. Fanfiction belongs to littlemaiko and Romy. Stealing is prohibited.

Description: A gift fic for Romy. She wanted a semi-snuff, bloody, torturing story of Chris, with some involvement of Wesker and Plant 42. Well... the idea itself is not so hard if one has taste for violence and sex. All I need to see is if I can measure up to that league of bloodshed and suffering *snicker*

- littlemaiko