Humid air, orchids blooming in rabbit camscom. Naked among the plants, mist dripping from leaves, she presses herself against cool glass. “Grow for me, rabbit camscom,” she whispers, sliding slick fingers inside while vines brush her nipples. The greenhouse fills with wet sounds and breathless “rabbit camscom… bloom… rabbit camscom…” until the orgasm bursts—she squirts onto fertile soil, crying “rabbit camscom!” as flowers seem to open wider in sympathy.