Mr. Deer struggled violently and screamed.
One leg was off the ground, his back scraping against the ground, burning with pain. Sometimes he would bump into tree stumps or protruding tree roots, each time causing him immense pain, leaving his back covered in blood.
He didn't know how much time had passed, but his blood was flowing backward, and he was hanging in the air, surrounded by other people.
However, it was quite far away from him and on another tree. Mr. Deer couldn't react in time and struggled incessantly. Drops of blood dripped down his back, and more and more vines wrapped around him, starting from his calves and coiling down his limbs.
Mr. Deer was dizzy and drowsy. The vines seemed to be aware of his pain and turned him over so that he was face up.
Mr. Deer is much better now and can see his surroundings clearly. Countless vines, like water, meander among the tree roots and surge toward him.
Of course, some flocked to others, but compared to those flocking to him, they were insignificant.
"Why?" Mr. Deer wondered.
The reason is actually quite simple: he was the best-looking and had the best physique among all the prey.
Not everyone has such a strong taste, liking big, muscular men with broad shoulders and dark skin.
Ninety percent of orcs prefer those with long arms and legs and handsome appearances, like Fang Rong and Mr. Deer.
Mr. Deer is male, and he never imagined that one day he would end up like this.
Was it strangled to death by countless vines?
The vines tightened more and more, until he could barely breathe, before they stopped. But they continued to roam over his body, changing positions, like caressing him, wrapping around every inch of his skin.
Not only on the body surface, but also in the private parts, Mr. Lu nervously discovered that a thing had crawled into the cleft between his thighs.
"Hmm..." The vine had already entered it, squeezing in inch by inch.
Mr. Lu looked grim. Although he was young, he probably understood things.
He was raped, mistaken for a female!
It was dried up by some vines!
More and more vines squeezed into his back, and Mr. Deer felt as if he were being torn apart from behind, an indescribable pain.
Others can only handle two or three sticks, why is he taking so many!
Mr. Deer burst into tears, feeling that he was not far from death. Before he died, he had to endure great pain, with several vines churning inside his stomach.
Fortunately, most of the vines weren't thick, but they were too hard and abrasive. The skin on my back was burning from the friction, and blood dripped down my face.
Mr. Deer was in so much pain that he could hardly breathe. It hurt so much that he cried more and more bitterly until he was almost out of breath, and his sobs echoed through the woods.
The vines seemed hesitant, their movements slowing down. They stopped moving, and Mr. Deer stopped crying.
As soon as he moved, Mr. Deer started crying again.
Mr. Deer seemed to have mastered the technique, and dared not stop crying. He stubbornly insisted on crying, and no amount of coaxing could soothe him. He even ignored the fruit offered by the vines.
Because as soon as he stopped, the vines would start moving around again, and the pain would make him forget everything else.
Mr. Deer cried all night long, stopping twice intermittently. He almost fell asleep, but woke up again and started crying again, begging Mr. Vine to let him go.
At these times, Mr. Vine would go limp, as if he had lost his soul, and would not respond to anything said, not even when he cried.
When other things were mentioned, he came alive again, like a patiently listening boy, and the leaves would occasionally twitch.
Although Mr. Deer had completed his mission and the main group had successfully made it across, and he hadn't died, Mr. Vine still wouldn't let him go, constantly entwining him in the tree and giving him a good beating.
Fortunately, Mr. Vine seemed much gentler than at the beginning and wouldn't hurt him anymore. He even knew where the grass was the fattest and smelliest, often taking him to bathe in the clear river and catching mice for him.
She would cover him with a blanket, wash his hands and feet, pick flowers for him, and often linger with him all night, always wanting to crawl between his legs.
Does Mr. Tree Vine have fallen for me?
。 (゜ロ゜).
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