Fullmetal Alchemist Fan Fiction ❯ The Misuse of Alchemy Series ❯ Misuse of Botanical Alchemy ( Chapter 5 )

The Misuse of Alchemy series

a Full Metal Alchemist based collection of erotic fanfiction involving the misuse and abuse of alchemy.

Because sex is better with an alchemist!

by Masamune Reforged

Masamuneehs@hotmail.com

Disclaimer: I don't own Fullmetal Alchemist or its characters. If I did, you'd bet there'd be more porn of it.

Warnings: Men getting it on with men. Lots of it, and in kinky style too. Oh, this one has a tentacle monster in it, and Fletcher (grown up though). Yeah, the dude really loves his vegetables. If this grosses you out, don't read it. There will be other stories, and I can guarantee they won't all involve tentacles. In fact, this is probably the only one that will, because it was hella hard to write.

 

Misuse of Alchemy 5

Misuse of Botanical Alchemy

Tentacles x Fletcher

 

Fletcher stormed into his bedroom and slammed the door with all his might. The young blond cringed as the clamor rang in his ears, but a moment later he was even angrier than before, this time with himself. Fletcher was just thankful that his brother wasn't home; he'd surely have came and checked on his younger brother after hearing the door slam. But Fletcher almost didn't want to see his brother right now. He certainly didn't want to answer questions about why he was in such a foul mood and home so early on a Friday night...

 

“Well, I was down at The Flamingo, that seedy, hole in the wall bar on N Street that's actually an underground meeting spot for gay guys. Like always, it was full of old, creepy guys practically begging to suck me off. A few of them were really drunk and asking me if I wasn't too young to be there—even though they kept pawing at me—the creeps... and even the one I let buy me a drink kept grabbing my ass and trying to get me to go back to the sex rooms with him. And when he asked if I would call him 'daddy', I decided I'd had enough of the sicko, threw the drink in his face, and left.”

 

Fletcher imagined himself saying these things to his brother, but it didn't make him feel any better. His tiny fantasy helped dilute the anger, but the sadness at knowing he could never bring himself to tell Russell about such things left the younger Tlingham brother feeling only slightly shittier than he'd felt before. Russell was probably out on a date with another one of his dumb, floozy girlfriends...

 

Fletcher tried not to think about his brother.

 

Instead, his thoughts strayed back to the men at the bar. He'd been there before, and even recognized a few of the men from the handful of places people like that tended to frequent. It was always the same. They were there for only one thing; and Fletcher, although he'd occasionally let go and indulge in the burning, secret desires of the flesh—which had led him to such scenes in the first place—really wanted something more. Even when he did let himself get drunk enough to go back to one of the rooms, he always regretted it afterwards, always felt dirty, used, and empty. It didn't help that the men were almost twice his age, and Fletcher still looked like a minor, despite having been an adult for almost two whole years now.

 

A familiar frustration swept over Fletcher's taut, limber frame. He bit his lip and thought more about all of it. He was gay, he'd come to accept that a long time ago. Women didn't do anything for him. Homosexuality, however, although not openly illegal, was frowned on by the state. People 'like that' often had a hard time finding or keeping jobs with decent pay. The military was Amestris, and to have a military, you needed an always fresh supply of cannon-fodder being born each and every year. Amestris, like any power built on exploiting its people, kept the appearance of being 'focused on the family'.

 

The few gay bars and meeting places offered little outside of purely sexual encounters. Older men, most of whom had long ago accepted an existence of menial labor or unemployment for being publicly labeled as 'Queers', were really not his type. Fletcher's body had... needs... but... He couldn't risk his brother getting fired, or worse, all because he wanted to get fucked by—

 

There was a soft rustling noise and Fletcher was suddenly broken from his thoughts by the cool touch of something reaching out to him from the darkness of his bedroom. Fletcher jumped a little, and a quick rustle of leaves signaled that Malboro, his pet plant, was wrapping his long vines around his trunk in a way that Fletcher had decided was something like a child's guilty pout.

 

Fletcher chastised himself silently as he walked towards the massive pot by his bed. He sat down with a sigh and, reaching out, slowly petted Malboro's shaking, sulking ferns. After just a few tender pats, the plant recognized the nature of its master's touch and peeled back the thick coat of leaves and ferns to expose its trunk. Fletcher rubbed the trunk, solid and slightly waxy to the touch, almost absentmindedly wishing that he could find a man half as sensitive as his pet Chlorobionta.

 

Almost seven years had passed since Fletcher had created Malboro, using a bunch of his favorite plants from their old house out in Xenotime and the most complicated series of arrays a young, genius alchemist could manage. They'd been about to move to Central, and Russell had explained that they couldn't bring all of the trees, bushes and flowers that his younger brother had dutifully raised. So Fletcher, like any child hoping to take all his favorite toys on an impossibly long trip, had had the brilliant idea of wrapping all his favorite plants into one, easily portable package. The transmutation had worked, but almost at the cost of Fletcher's life.

 

When he'd come to in a hospital in Central, after almost two months in a coma, Fletcher had been delighted to see a small sapling in a slim pot, swaying in the windless room, almost as if it were waving to him. Confined to a bed and wheelchair for months more, Fletcher had been truly grateful for his new pet and friend. And the little plant seemed to thrive off of his care and affection, growing taller and more sentient with the passage of time.

 

But now, years later, barely a fraction into what Fletcher guessed might be its life-cycle, Malboro was still growing. He took up almost a third of Fletcher's room now, and his top stalks scraped against the ceiling. Fletcher had always done his best to care for his pet, but now Malboro's main branches were almost as big as the young man's arms, and the long vines drooped out over the custom-made pot and into heaps on the floor. The tendrils were long, waxy, and so full of vigor that they almost resembled-

 

Fletcher stopped his thoughts and his petting as he realized he was getting a hard-on thinking about a member of another species. Another kingdom... He did have a thing for well-endowed men, but... Fletcher flushed in embarrassed at the images his mind had just called up, not for the first time...

 

But the images, and the frustration from his misadventures at the bar, had done their work.

 

With a heavy sigh, Fletcher lay down on his bed and hastily unzipped his pants, wriggling them down past his slight hips. He was hard and hot. He had fully intended to relieve himself of this problem at the seedy bar, but then those men had- Fletcher pushed the memory out of his mind as he reached down and began stroking himself. He shut his eyes and imagined a tall figure holding him fast in strong arms, playing with his body and-

 

Fletcher heard a nearby rustle, and barely had time to open his eyes before he felt something else gripping his long, exposed sex. Fletcher's other hand moved to swat Malboro away, but before it could, a wave of pleasure crashed over his body, making him shiver and moan. Unlike his hand, this touch was cool and rough. It felt different, and very, very, good....

 

Fletcher let out a soft grunt that ended in a long, low moan as the touch on his sex pushed him closer to the release he desperately sought. The caresses were becoming longer, the pressure wrapped around his aching need slightly more. It was as if his pet were gaining confidence as it watched his reaction.

 

Even though it was dark, Fletcher had his eyes shut, half caught between trying to block out the unbelievable event taking place and trying to lose himself in it with images from his fantasies. He heard the rustle of leaves and the slight creak of the pot, and almost burst out into laughter as yet another, softer, almost tickling touch began on the very head of his cock. But, there came another rustle and a suddenly almost too-tight pinching as Malboro grasped his sex completely with the thickest part of a tendril. Fletcher's eyes flew open and his body spasmed, brushing the most sensitive part of him against the teasing ferns. Malboro jacked him off like a huge, heavy, gloved hand.

 

Fletcher gave a strangled cry, suppressing it as he fully forgot that he was home alone. His hips bucked up into the air, and he came with a furious, stifled orgasm. He humped the curled tentacle with reckless lust, forcing the feeler to milk him for all he was worth. Fletcher swallowed what would have been a loud cry and shivered violently

 

He collapsed back down onto the bed, mind lost in the haze of the aftermath.

 

But Malboro did not know to stop, and suddenly the continued assault on his already spent, overly sensitive sex registered in Fletcher's brain as a sharp pain. He sat upright in the bed with a cry and—suddenly very aware of what he was allowing to happen to him, and with what—struck the tentacle that had just brought him to bliss.

 

Malboro let go instantly, tendrils and ferns whipping away from the attack with such a fierce, scared reaction that the base of his massive pot rocked on the wooden floor from the backlash. Leaves rustled nervously, confusedly trying to protect their vital branches and vines.

 

Fletcher felt awful and, in a flash, realized that, if anyone here deserved to be slapped, it was him. Malboro was not like the creeps at the bars. It actually cared about him, probably truly loved him. It didn't care about his sexuality, his boyish looks, and it would never judge him for his perverse desires the way that even his own brother probably would.

 

“Hey, Malb'... Hey,” Fletcher called out pleadingly, scooting over on the bed and reaching out to where he could hear the poor soul quivering in hurt rejection. “Hey, I'm sorry. I- Really... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I'm just...” He stopped as the furious rustling ceased for a moment and his hand came in contact with the wall of ferns Malboro was hiding behind. He stroked the soft leaves for a minute before finally saying, “I'm just really confused and fucked up...”

 

He had the sexual desire for men, but Fletcher was still developing emotionally. He didn't know how to reconcile his urge to be touched, his urges to be sucked and fucked, with his fear of being used like some cheap whore, of being mentally harmed by the manipulative men that lusted after him. He wanted to do all kinds of things, things that would probably make even those men in the Flamingo blush to hear said out loud, but he was scared to trust anyone like that, wouldn't allow himself to do those things with just anyone...

 

Feeling more than slightly embarrassed, Fletcher rubbed gently at the main trunk and said, “I... um, I actually really liked that...” He shook his head, but a playful swat of a thin vine against his bare thigh let him know that he wasn't totally crazy to be talking to a plant. “Geez, you're lively tonight!” A fern tickled the back of his hand, and Malboro's thickest free vine thumped softly on the floor like a dog's tail.

 

Fletcher swallowed hard and, after a minute of silent consideration, reached a decision. Opening his eyes, he could only make out the outline of his plant's tangled form, but noticed it freeze under his gaze, as if it were looking straight back into his eyes.

 

“We're going to try this just once, okay?” Fletcher said, trying to rationalize it all to himself, and to make sure his pet didn't try to make a habit out of this... Malboro's top ferns swayed forward slightly, then back, nodding sincerely. Fletcher scooted forward until his toes were almost touching the base of the pot, suddenly very aware of the refreshing, natural smell of the horny little tentacle monster.

 

“Don't tell Russell, okay?”

 

Fletcher pressed his forehead against the thick, hard trunk, shutting his eyes and focusing on his thoughts. Unbidden, images from his fantasies came to his mind, swirling vividly. He was starting to grow hard again.

 

Then, suddenly, there was a loud rustling all around him. Fletcher looked up in fear, but before he could react, his arms were locked soundly to his side as all of Malboro's long tendrils wrapped themselves full around his body. He panicked as he was suddenly hoisted backwards onto the bed, landing with a soft thud on his blankets. His legs flailed wildly, his upper body trapped, and Fletcher was about to yell out a stern command when he suddenly felt a soft and cool touch on his face.

 

Malboro was stroking his cheek gently, almost reassuringly. As quickly as his panic had risen, Fletcher felt it wash away, replaced by a flaring hot arousal at being restrained and at the mercy of someone he knew he could actually trust. Malboro uncoiled from around his body, several dark tentacles flashing dully in the almost complete darkness. They were soon wrapped around Russell's arms, drawing them up over his head, and down at his feet, spreading his legs apart. Then came that frighteningly cold, exquisitely textured touch on his sex again.

 

Fletcher groaned and arched his back up into it. His feet and hands bound, the young blond felt helpless, but surprisingly safe. There was a rustle as Malboro reached out with his ferns and brushed them playfully against the muscled backside, sliding a waxy tendril up into Fletcher's crack. The cool sensation made him groan and turn his head into the pillow, mind suddenly searching for thoughts that would not bring him to climax too soon.

 

Malboro pulled Fletcher's pants farther down, continuing to play with both his cock and, now, at the tight entrance of Fletcher's ass. A thin tendril was able to slide less than half an inch inside before hitting fiery resistance, even as Fletcher let out a grunt, and then a demanding, “More.” Malboro obliged with a brandishing of one of his bigger tentacles, as thick as Fletcher's wrist and infinitely long. Fletcher was suddenly very glad that he'd spent all that money on the sizeable sex toy he sometimes used. The men at the Flamingo would have fainted if they'd seen the thing that was about to go inside of him.

 

The pressure of the tentacles wrapped around his wrists, ankles and cock all increased for a moment, and Fletcher wondered if something was wrong. Malboro's leaves shook in tight tension and, then, a thick, sticky liquid made contact with the tight ring of muscle around the squirming, smaller tendril inside of him. It was cool to the touch and gave him goosebumps, but not unpleasant. Malboro was forcing his sap out, using his other small tendrils to spread it around as much of Fletcher's insides as possible, and...

 

The thickest and longest of Malboro's tentacles loomed up above him, dripping sap onto his chest and allowing its master one last chance to decide if this was really what he wanted.

 

“Yes. Please,” Fletcher pleaded, voice heavy with want.

 

There was a rustle, a piercing pressure, and then a flash of fiery pain that made Fletcher bite his lip between short, ragged breaths. Without the gooey sap to ease the penetration, Fletcher didn't think it would have been possible. He was being torn apart, and it made him rock hard. His pet gave one final push, and Fletcher trembled at the feeling of the cool, thick girth filling him. The pressure of the invader possessing his insides was sweet abandon, a mix of twisted pleasure and arousing pain. A tendril ghosted along his ribs, making him shiver. The tentacle wrapped firmly around his sex began to flex and coil around his sensitive crown. The one inside reached like no human touch could, flexibly adjusting to his tight walls, always attacking his sweet spot with a gyrating pulse. The grating against that magic spot inside of him, at the commanding power keeping him in place, and the still somewhat soft and caring feelings that went beyond normal bonds pushed Fletcher over the edge.

 

Fletcher arched his back, tried futilely to push himself down further on more of the tentacle, bucked his hips up into the air, saw stars, and called out his brother's name.

 

Malboro uncoiled from around him, slightly bruised tentacle slithering out from inside of Fletcher's taut butt and shaking itself off. The vines holding his wrists released him, and Fletcher's hands fell, raised only slightly up over his heavily breathing chest.

 

Fletcher looked up at the darkness of his ceiling and tried to make sense of what he'd just done and his insane desire to do it again as soon as possible. He trembled and flexed his muscles, the sap and his own sweat and release all mixing together in a mess on his body.

 

Fletcher had never felt so completely drained and fulfilled in his life.

 

Malboro threw him a towel.

 

-end Misuse of Botanical Alchemy

Misuse of Alchemy 5 in The Misuse of Alchemy Series

 

Note - Yeah, couldn't resist adding some incest tension in there. Sorry if that's not your thing. Then again, if you just read through a Tentacles x Fletcher yaoi fanfic and have issues with off-hand mentions of incestual desires, I think you've got issues. Yeah, I think you've got issues. Oh, and the cute little tentacle monster's name comes from the Final Fantasy series. Basically I imagine it to be like a botanical chimera, except, well, really very sweet and good-natured...

 

I have never tried something like this before, so please tell me what you thought. It was really difficult for me to do a scene with something that isn't human.

Masamuneehs@hotmail.com