Zecora's Warning for Everfree Travellers (Not Mine)


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                                                Originally by https://pastebin.com/u/plumbous

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                                                Beware, beware the forest deep

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                                                Where vile creatures are known to creep.

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                                                The beasts with claws are of least concern,

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                                                For it's the vines and tendrils that you must learn.

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                                                They trip and hold your legs from below,

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                                                Then stuff your belly for it to grow.

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                                                The nectar they feed is sweet and light,

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                                                And fear quickly turns into delight.

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                                                They hold your body to keep it still

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                                                Until you've had far more than your fill.

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                                                It's not unpleasant, I must admit,

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                                                To be so full that no more can fit.

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                                                You become so round, but feel no pain.

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                                                In fact, you want the feeling to remain.

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                                                And the more the wicked vines produce,

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                                                The more your cheeks leak out the juice.

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                                                The resin cools and glues your lips

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                                                Around the leaking tendril's tips.

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                                                You can't spit it out and you can't turn away,

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                                                For the taste is so addicting that you want to stay.

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                                                The fluid begins to digest so fast

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                                                That your stomach and rear become heavy and vast.

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                                                It spreads and thickens your legs and thighs

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                                                And your whole figure softens before your eyes.

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                                                Yet still you have no choice but to strain and swallow

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                                                While your cheeks and neck, in growth, soon follow.

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                                                The vines stop when they're empty and let you go,

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                                                But by then your movements are far too slow.

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                                                You have to waddle back home, burdened and taut,

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                                                And wonder to yourself what nature has brought.

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                                                The purpose of these plants, I cannot say,

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                                                But I can guess why they act this way.

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                                                I predict that their nectar was for the bees

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                                                Which no longer fly into the Everfree.

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                                                So they hide and wait in patches of grass

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                                                Until they find a new creature to increase in mass.

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                                                So be warned, pony folk -- or be dared, if you may,

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                                                For the feeding vines that await their prey.