"Tch"
Tharja sat alone on the steps of her beach hut, clutching a tome to her ample chest tightly. She had hated every second of her time on this shore: the sun and sand irritated her delicate skin, her fellow holiday makers were consistently loud and obnoxious, stopping her from studying her texts.
The sole upside to the holiday was Robin, the sight of her in her tight purple bikini was more than enough to stop the dark mage from abandoning the holiday altogether. Tharja smirked to herself, perhaps she could convince the tactician to spread some lotion over her and save her from the dreaded heat.
A cheer rang out from a nearby hut, bringing Tharja back to her senses. Her love was away from her, hosting a beach party with the others and had barely paid any attention to the witch. Speaking of Robin though, Tharja had spotted some bizarre imitation on this break - a mockery that copied her appearance to the perfect detail, but bore an unending hatred for the world she wore on her sleeve, unlike her compassionate Robin. At this moment however, the dark mage didn’t care much: she’d have killed for a touch, even from the fraud, though she was even denied of this: annoyingly the counterfeit hadn’t been spotted in a couple of days.
 
 
 
 
“Grr, enough of this”
 
 
Growing sick of the noise, Tharja stood up and made her way into the jungle that backed onto the beach: The peace and shade there would be enough for now. Her thoughts once again strayed to Robin and that bottle of lotion: she’d start at the top, massaging her shoulders with her delicate fingers. She’d grow bold and grab a cheeky feel of her breasts as she made her way down her back before massaging her lower back. Tharja would draw herself up to her knees with her chest on the ground allowing Robin to do whatever she wanted with her…
 
 
Her ass? The Mage’s fantasy was interrupted as she suddenly remembered another gripe with this setting, her bikini panties: a thin strip of red fabric that barely covered her rump at the best of times, had been swallowed by her generous cheeks as she had been walking.
 
 
“Ugh” she snarled “That merchant must be laughing her head off right now, Next time I see her I’ll take it off”
 
 
Freed from her daydream after adjusting herself, Tharja found herself deeper in the jungle than she had anticipated. No matter, no one would come and disturb her here. Thankfully she had ended up in the perfect spot: a small clearing in the jungle at the foot of a large tree, flanked by an unusual plant with a large flower. The Dark mage wasn’t known for liking traditionally “pleasant” scenes, most of all she just appreciated the shade it granted her.
She sat down at the base of the tree, bringing out her grimoire, briefly wondering if she could find something within these woods that might add to its contents, and unknown to her, that something was now aware of her. The great plant had sensed the girl, lost in contemplation. SIlently it’s vines moved through the trees over head, getting to the branches over her, before creeping down towards its unsuspecting victim
 
 
 
 
Fully engrossed in her tome, Tharja was caught completely off-guard when a vine looped around her neck and pulled. Hard. The witch was tugged high into the canopy, dropping her text in the process. She wasn’t sure how long she was suspended there, it was a few seconds at most, but as far as she was concerned she dangled like a pendant for hours. Her lungs were burning, her eyes bulged and she kicked and struggled feelby until her whole body was bound by some large intruding leaves.
Her throat was relieved of the pressure of the thin creeper that had been accosting her and she was spared the indignation of passing out, or worse, but her new predicament was hardly comfortable: every part of her below her shoulders was wrapped tight. The pressure wasn’t half as viscous as the snared vine that had caught her, but it was more than enough to remind her she wasn’t going anywhere, her flesh bulging where her constraints ended and putting notable pressure on her generous tits.
 
 
 
 
“Rrgh, what the hell is this?”
 
 
As Tharja scrutinized her new situation, her assailant finally revealed itself to her: The great plant ascended from its rest on the jungle floor, meeting her at eye level. It resembled a rose flower with a hole in the center of it’s corolla, ridged by slightly higher petals. It’s stem was roughly half as thick as the tree it sat next to, though it still seemed to be able to move fluidly. The sheer number of leaves and petals that rustled sounded like the worst sandstorms of her birth nation.
The sight of it would likely be a minor miracle to someone with an interest in horticulture, though sadly Tharja had other things on her mind than to ponder it’s biology.
 
 
“Argh.. Let me go right now! I’ll curse you ‘till you rot!”
 
 
Even if the plant could understand her, Tharja was hardly in a position to make threats. covered head to toe in binding leaves all she could possibly do was shriek until she was blue in the face.
 
 
“Gyaah! I’ll burn you to ash! You and this whole forest with you”
 
 
Whilst she was ranting, a tendril emerged from within the gaping hole of the plant. Unlike the rest of it’s vines it was translucent and cupped at the end, and inexorably moved towards the dark mage.
 
 
“Huh, what? No, no! Get that thing away from mm.. Mmph!”
 
 
The tendril finally came to rest on the witch’s face, covering her mouth and nose like a surgical mask. It was horribly wet and formed a viciously tight seal. A small part of her was just a little relieved it wasn’t obstructing her breathing half as much as before, but this was hardly a substitute for the embarrassment of the situation she had found herself in.
For a while the two sat there in this kiss, the plant had seemingly ceased moving and a deathly silence had fallen across the glade. Tharja’s mind was now racing, desperately trying to figure a way out, when all of a sudden she spotted what appeared to be a pink gas traveling through the tendril.
 
 
Before the main bulk of the vapor had hit her she caught a small breath of it and could feel her mind begin to dull. The mage was now sincerely panicking, she was far from naive enough to not understand what the monster was trying to do with her, but she had no ideas on how to combat it: her romantic idals for loving Robin had caused her to shun hypnotic curses, in favor of trying to get true devotion from her.
The fog drew inevitably closer to her and Tharja knew she somehow needed to keep her mind occupied to keep her sane, defaulting to the one thing she knew best: her curses.
 
 
“Right, a binding curse, that needs a manakete’s scale, wyvern fang, toad’s hide”
 
 
The gas finally hit her with a surprising pressure, effortlessly forcing itself into her mouth and nose and into her lungs. Once again shock took the witch and her concentration was shattered, desperately attempting to keep up her mantra and hold on to consciousness as the plant’s vapors filled her.
 
 
“E-eye of dog, sssnake skin... bear meat?”
 
 
In her swirling mind only one thing seemed to stick, though even that was being swallowed in a sea of fog.
 
 
“Robin?”
 
 
Tharja stopped thinking, her eyes were glazed over, dyed lightly pink due to the sheer amount of pheromone pumping through her system and her body was limp.
The leaves that bound here slowly retracted, replaced again by a single vine that held the witch’s loose body upside-down, almost mockingly. During her encasement, Tharja’s bikini top had snapped, the cheap material falling to the floor, exposing her generous breasts to the world. Perhaps in response to all the physical stimulation she had received, or as a side effect of the plant’s chemicals that permeated her body, her nipples now stood hard and her bikini bottoms found themselves soaked in her own juices. Perhaps thankfully, the dark mage was too far gone to feel any kind of embarrassment, and if she had any control of her limbs she’d likely be fingering herself raw.
 
 
Finally making a move, the plant dangled it’s meal over it’s gaping mouth, and let go.
Gravity took the witch a fair way down the monster’s throat, but her generous proportions stopped her from falling cleanly down, her shapely hips had been caught in it’s equivalent of a mouth, leaving her divine derrière and long legs exposed to the elements. This would not be an issue for long. Noticing something was wrong, the plant began to swallow repeatedly dragging the mage down it’s gullet slowly: tug by tug Tharja’s fine form could be easily seen pressed up against the plant’s body slowly making its way downwards until finally traveling underground.
The plant finally widened up allowing the mage to slide cleanly until she reached her resting place in the plant’s stomach. Unfortunately for her however, landing face first in the plant’s digestive juices snapped her out of her stupor.
 
 
“Ugh, where am I?”
 
 
Her legs were soaked and tingled oddly, and she had a strange feeling all throughout her body, like butterflies in her stomach. Where she sat seemed impossibly dark, and possessed a viscous acidic smell, but she was struggling to remember where she was ad how she’d got there
Briefly, the plant opened its mouth again as it moved, letting a little bit of light into the chamber, and all of a sudden the memories of the past hour began to flood back to her, causing her to scramble at the walls in an attempt to get out, though she merely slipped back to the center of the stomach every time she tried.
 
 
As she moved, a combination of her struggles and the acid finally snapped her bikini bottoms clean off, finally leaving her naked, outside of the diadem on her head.
Futilely she attempted to manage any form of base magic in an attempt to wound the creature from within, but without her tome as a catalyst she was unable to form anything but a passing flame, nevermind the magnificent dark tendrils she was known for.
 
 
“No no no! I can’t end like this!”
 
 
Her pleas fell on deaf ears as the liquid within the plant started filling the chamber she sat in.
On the surface, the great plant had returned to its resting place. Outside the rag on the floor, there was nothing out of the ordinary in the clearing it resided in.