The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Jack was being lowered down into a pit of terrifying darkness.

Jack was pretty sure he was dreaming, though, so it was okay.

He could tell it was a dream because he was looking down at himself from up above. He—or the other him—lay in a large wooden basket, head and feet sticking out. Jack studied himself. He was a small man, with dusky skin and particularly thick lashes that always got in his eyes. His hair was a brilliant, fiery red, and almost shoulder-length. He wasn’t particularly strong, but he wasn’t particularly weak, either, and his body was what most would consider ‘tightly formed’.

I should really be wearing more clothes, Jack thought, shaking his head disapprovingly. It’s cold down here.

He watched his other self slowly descend into the well.

And then his other self was waking up, and Jack was no longer looking down from above—he was seeing from his own eyes again. The basket had reached the bottom of the shaft.

He sat up—and found himself gazing up into the eyes of a golden-haired angel. Bull horns protruded from her head, and her breasts were enormous.

Such that he found he was already being smothered by them.

“Good boy,” he heard her coo, stroking his hair.

And then she started to tickle him. He squeaked, but she held him tightly against her tits as her fingers danced over his form, under his arms. He tried to pull his arms in, squeaking with giggles, but hands spread them wide and mercilessly continued the attentions.

“Gitchy-gitchy-goo!” the holstaur sang in his ear, before licking him. He squealed and wept and giggled, thrashing helplessly, begging for mercy—

“Come on, then! Wakey-wakey!”

His eyes shot open.

Jack lay on the grassy floor of the Greatest, Darkest Forest, his hands and feet bound by tangling, knotted ferns. Pale young women with red hair and bright green eyes surrounded him, giggling like mad as they ran ticklish ferns and fiddleheads over his nude form.

He shrieked as the ferns ran over his toes, and he thrashed in vain, lost in helpless giggles. “G-girls!” he managed. “Girls, p-please! P-Please!”

They at last relented, though not before one of them decided to get cute and sit down in his lap, pinning his cock against his belly. The redhead beamed at him, dimples rising up against her eyes. Her eyelashes fluttered demurely, as if she had no idea why he was so dreadfully red-faced.

“Sorry, Jackie,” sang another one of the fern dryads, kissing him on the cheek as she got up and undid his bindings on his left hand. “But it’s time to get up! You told us to wake you up just after sunrise, remember? You’ve got that quest to get on.”

Jack blinked blearily up at her, wiping away some tears from laughter with his free hand. “Well, thank you,” he said, beaming up at them. Despite his embarrassment, the druid couldn’t exactly deny his delight at being awoken by a band of beautiful fey. “But what did I do to deserve this kind of agony?”

The dryad sitting atop him covered a giggle, smirking down at him. “Widdle Jackie-boy’s cock was twitching!” she cooed, reaching down and pinching his cheeks. She knew how that annoyed him. “You were having a nice dream. We decided to make it about us!”

“Did it work?” asked another dryad, fixing her hair as she rose to her feet. With her toes, she delicately drew the binding plants from his right hand.

“Well...” He flexed his hands, giving the dryad atop him a coy grin. “Afraid not. Maybe you just, like, weren’t making me feel enough.”

“Ooh!” She put a hand to her red lips in astonishment. “Naughty!” She leaned in with a feral grin.

Her hand snaked down and gripped his cock tightly, causing him to gasp. “One of these days, some fey’s gonna get tired of this cute li’l druid’s attitude,” she husked in his ear, before kissing him on the cheek. “And then she’s gonna have him all to herself!”

He reached up his newly free hand and drew a simple spiral in the small of her back.

The dryad went rigid the second his fingers touched her skin. As they completed the first spiral, she began quivering. “O-oh,” she managed. “You... you cheeky l-little...”

“What is it?” he asked innocently, continuing the Fey Spiral. He barely suppressed a giggle at the look on her face.

“I c-can’t...” Her face was growing very red as his finger continued to stroke. “You’re j-just trying to g-get me to...” Around and around and... “I’m not g-gonna...” Around and around and around... “... oh... ohhhh...

“Wicked little druid!” With a half-annoyed, half-delighted growl, she rose up, allowing his cock to spring to full erection, and impaled herself upon it. “OOoh!”

He beamed and closed his eyes, using his hands to help her bounce.

One of these days, maybe, his cockiness would see him punished.

But it wouldn’t be a fern dryad to do it.

Jack set out for the town about an hour later. It would have been earlier, but a few other dryads had understandably decided they needed to become involved, and... well. He was red-faced, and a bit sticky-haired, by the time he finally got walking.

He was such a bimbo sometimes. Just couldn’t help himself. He knew he should feel bad about getting distracted, but he couldn’t stop giggling as he remembered the look on the teasing dryad’s face. He would have to find time to play with Marattii on the way back, that was for sure.

And because of the late start, it was early afternoon by the time he finally arrived at the small town of Crown.

The first thing Jack noticed was the hum, and he tried to ignore that. He tried to avoid even looking in the direction of the ley well, though he knew it was up there somewhere. Even at a distance, the ley well made his head buzz and his stomach churn. He didn’t like to think of what it would do if he went a little bit closer.

Crown was a nice little village. Very... pastoral. About the cliché for a town in the Greatest, Darkest Forest, a forest that sometimes felt straight out of a fairy tale—as opposed to the Evergreen, which often seemed like something out of an extremely bawdy ballad. Or a horror story, depending. The houses were old and badly in need of long-term fixes, but patches to the thatched roofs and poles to help crumbling walls keep standing made do.

All in all, as he rode down the hill, Jack guessed Crown had perhaps sixty residents—at a high estimate. As a druid, Jack believed it was important to always take one’s time, to find time to stop and kiss the rose hamadryads. But this visit wasn’t for pleasure, and he was not currently feeling very well. He made a beeline for the longhouse.

The Lacratian Continent was peppered with scores—hundreds, maybe—of little villages, and most of them lacked a governing external body. As such, most could be expected to be run by a local council or chief, though occasionally villages banded together for mutual contact and connection. Crown was one of the more independent villages, but it was also the center of trade for the region due to its close connection to the ley lines. “Poison Crown, and you poison the rivers,” as the locals said.

The longhouse was a, well, long house, roofed by spelled bark rather than thatch. The interior was lined with hammocks, bore several fireplaces, and had a narrow catwalk winding around the walls up above accessible by ladders.

Seated on the floor before Jack were the people he assumed to be the councilmembers. There were two very tall and broad men he took to be brothers, a very short and very old woman who reminded him of a woodcarving in the simplicity of her features, three children marked with the Signs of Old Eyes (a trio of painted eyes along each child’s forehead), and a strikingly fair-skinned young woman smoking a cigar.

They looked up as he tapped his cudgel on the entranceway. “Ah!” exclaimed the young woman, springing to her feet. She set a mug of something white and frothing and probably alcoholic to the side, her eyes bright with relief. “So he is coming!”

“Slow feet,” rumbled one of the brothers. “Trouble with the fern dryads, boy?”

Jack gave his best, most friendly smile to cover for the redness of his cheeks, brushing a bit of stickiness from his hair. “S-Sorry about the hour. It’s a long ways from, like, where I was when I got the message.”

“No, no, you mustn’t worry!” The young woman clasped his hands in hers with a bright smile. Her eyes were a milky blue, contrasting sharply with her freckled face and bright red hair. Her hands were soft, but gripped his tightly. “Thank you for coming, druid! I am Meela, the Eyes of this council.” She gestured with her cigar to the rest. “They are Bruul and Gunder, the Hands,” gesturing to the brothers, “Aki, Belimen and Sars, the Voices,” gesturing to the children, “and Old Woman Era, the Mind.”

“I’m Jack.”

“What a lovely name!” She giggled. “It’s good you arrived here today. We were starting to worry.”

“Aye!” The young boy named Sars scowled up at him. “Meela has been very worried!”

“Oh, well...” Meela adjusted her hair, pulling her hands back from Jack’s at last. “Let’s just say we really need your help.”

“What’s the problem?” He followed her back to the sit-down.

“Nothing terrible,” Meela said, shrugging. “But best to be dealt with!”

“Some catgirls are causing all sorts of mischief,” little Aki piped up. “Harrying shepherds, spooking cows. And they won’t talk to us!”

“Is that all?” Jack raised his eyebrows at Meela. “That seems, like, not a lot for calling a druid for.”

“A third-circle druid.” Old Woman Era snorted. “If you’d been higher, it’d be different.”

Jack laughed nervously, trying not to bite his lip in front of them.

Fair enough. He wasn’t exactly high-tier. Still... “So you just want me to, um, like, talk to them?”

There was a short silence.

One of the brothers leaned in, eyes narrowed. “Look...”

“Yes!” Meela beamed. “That’s all!” She patted the councilmember on the shoulder. “Nothing to worry about, really.”

“They’re acting funny,” the brother muttered.

“Hush, Gunder,” Bruul said with a sigh. “No more of this nonsense.”

Jack glanced at Gunder. The man was completely shaven save for his eyebrows, and had what one might call a rather flat head and flat, squarish features. He was scowling down at his bowl. “Gunder, is there something... more I should know?” he asked politely.

Gunder chewed his inner lip.

“I think that’s all!” Meela said, her grin almost manically wide as she stared down Gunder.

“Sorry about my brother,” Bruul said, shaking his head with a smile. He took a sip from his mug and shrugged. “He has a habit of assuming the worst of things, and he hasn’t been eating well of late. I think he must have skipped breakfast. That always makes him gloomier.”

“Yes,” said Old Woman Era, staring balefully down at her own empty mug, “with all these troubles, some villagers aren’t taking care of themselves proper. Don’t worry yourself of it, druid. I’m sure it will be settled when your work is done.”

Jack frowned, looking first at Gunder, then at the three children, who also seemed perplexed. But Era, Bruul and Meela seemed quite certain.

“If there’s something he noticed,” Jack said at last, “I should... probably hear about it. Is there, Gunder?”

There was a long pause.

Gunder looked up at Jack and grimaced.

“He didn’t get anything to drink this morning,” Belimen piped up. Belimen was the youngest of the Old Eyes. “That puts him in a bad mood.”

“Belimen,” Old Woman Era scolded.

“It’s what the fairies said!” Belimen protested. “I’m just saying what they said! Really!”

“Yeah,” Gunder’s voice was a low grumble, “that’s probably it. Just a bad mood. But I never known catgirls to refuse to talk to the Old Eyes before. So... maybe not.”

There was a long silence.

Catgirls refusing to talk to ‘Old Eyes’ was a bit unusual, Jack had to admit. Children marked with the paints signifying their precocious council status were meant specifically to serve as ambassadors to the fey world—fey always liked children, after all, and would almost never do anything to harm them. In a village with a ley well, it was doubly important to stay on the fey’s good sides.

Jack had known a few catgirls over the years. His good friend Lim was like an eccentric aunt to the young druids-in-training, and always brought them strange presents and had the best disturbing stories. Gunder wasn’t wrong. It was strange.

Meela finally broke the silence with a cautious smile towards Jack. “Would you like anything for lunch? One of our hunters caught a boar yesterday! A young one, but it’s good meat.”

Jack’s stomach rumbled a little, but he smiled and shook his head gallantly. “No, Miss, I should be going. It seems I have a clowder of catgirls to take care of!”

The town of Crown was surrounded on all sides by forest and hills—a common place to build settlements, as the hills would ideally hinder mortal invasion while offering escape from forest fey, and the forest would offer a place to flee if you preferred to chance the forest fey rather than the invaders.

He knew that the ley well lay atop the tallest hill, so for now, he decided to stick to the forests. He had a feeling the catgirls would come to him no matter where he went, and he... really didn’t want to go near the well.

And it was so that he found himself making camp that night beneath tall, emerald-leafed sugar maples.

It hadn’t been a very successful search. Jack hadn’t seen any fey—no catgirls, no fairies, not even a fern dryad to keep him warm tonight. He was a bit sad about it, though admittedly, the last thing he needed right now was another distraction. The buzz from the well still hovered, everpresent, ever-unwanted.

Jack smiled down at the mossy ground. “A favor?” he said to thin air, and slipped into the World Base.

The world around him was immersed in life, of course. The darkness rustled with living winds, the leaves above blossomed in glorious glowing veins, and all around he could sense the heartbeats of all sorts of little beasts. Nothing large enough to be a threat. And no fey.

In the distance, he felt an unpleasant buzzing, and couldn’t help but glance to the northeast. There, behind the verdant swirl of the forest, he felt the ley well—a faraway maelstrom of collecting energies. It unnerved him, and he quickly turned back to his task.

Of course, all life was beautiful, but one didn’t generally want to sleep on it all. Bowing, he carefully ‘asked’ the grubs and worms and spiders beneath the leaves and moss to make their way off to other parts of the wood, ‘requested’ the moss to grow larger and fluffier, and ‘persuaded’ the water to recede, giving him a nice, dry, mossy bed.

He set down his bag to serve as a pillow. There. He had officially made camp.

With a happy sigh, the druid lay back against the moss.

He hoped he had even better dreams tonight.

Jack’s eyes shot open.

“Someone there?” he heard himself call out.

His heart was pounding. He had definitely heard something moving.

Or... had it just been a dream?

He grimaced, rubbing his head as he looked around. He had to have been asleep for... what, an hour? More? The forest was abuzz with the chirpings and croakings and whistles of life, and on any other night he would welcome this, welcome the hum of the mosquitoes and the chirrups of the potoos that ate the mosquitoes.

But tonight felt... different.

He hugged his belly, whimpering as his head buzzed unpleasantly. Tonight he was sleeping near a ley well. And there were no giggling fern dryads to keep his mind off it. Not even one.

That was what had woken him up, the young druid realized, biting his lip hard. That horrible, horrible buzzing. He needed a companion, or a good meal, or a nice game of mesmerjill—anything to distract him a little!

A drink would do me good, he thought, his lower lip quivering. Reaching into his bag/pillow, he drew out his trusty skin of emptiness, a wineskin enchanted to... well, he didn’t fully understand the science of it, but it kept his drinks cool, and he’d left something with an extra kick in this one. Mulled peach wine from an orchard dryad’s collection.

Things would be just peachy in a second, he thought, giggling a little. He already felt a little better. He popped the cap off the wineskin and took a swig.

A second later, he spat out the contents with a shriek. WHAT.

He stared at the wineskin in betrayal. When... when did I put milk in this thing?

Then, in anger, Who stole my wine?!

Jack was on his feet in moments, bag hefted over his shoulder. The taste of the milk lingered on his tongue as he scanned the darkness. It was... sweet. Very creamy, almost like cream. A bit spicy, like a rompope, but... no, there was something about it he didn’t like.

Or, rather, he really liked it. He spat again, trying to clear his head of a momentary haze. There was something very unusual about that—

He heard a giggle from the trees, abruptly cut off as if somebody had covered her mouth. He spun around as something almost like a squirrel—but not quite a squirrel—sprang down from a branch and into darkness.

It definitely wasn’t a squirrel. Not even dire squirrels grew that big.

But only one other creature climbed like that.

A catgirl.

Or a troll chipmunk. He paused, about to take off.

Troll chipmunks weren’t indigenous to this region.

He took off at a run.

Jack raced after the vanishing silhouette. “Hey!” he shouted. “Hey, I just—” He ducked under a low-ganging branch. “Hey, I just wanna talk!”

Only a giggle answered him. Whoever she was, this catgirl was quick. He made out her curvy form from above, and he couldn’t help but admire her form against the moonlight.

She raced from branch to branch, brachiating with the ease of a bird in the air. She was going to lose him at this rate—or worse, lead him into trouble of some sort. The last thing Jack needed was to get sidetrekked for a few nights with an alraune or something.

Jack took a deep breath as he ran and tried to summon the World Base to him. He touched it only briefly, however—only long enough to ask another favor.

As his foot landed on a large root, that root suddenly rocketed upwards, sending him flying into the air. Jack soared, heart pounding—he didn’t really like heights—and managed to grab onto a branch about ten feet up.

Please, he thought, and the branch obligingly swung him forward after his quarry. He flew a short ways, and for a moment, he was falling in darkness.

Then another branch caught him and launched him again.

Wow, he thought, marveling at his success. He’d only occasionally been able to get the trees to be so helpful in the past. I hate this.

As a fourth branch wrapped delicately around his torso and tossed him forward, he saw the silhouette of the catgirl stop, turning to stare at him. Her green eyes shone in astonishment, and her mouth hung open.

He collided with her with a cry, and they both went tumbling off of her branch.

They had only been fifteen feet up luckily, and catgirls always landed on their feet. He clung to her shoulder as they tumbled into a mass of dead leaves—and grubs, and spiders, and worms, and mud—and went rolling down into a small creek.

Oh, shit.

The catgirl still seemed too completely shellshocked to really struggle. So the first second of them landing in the mucky little stream was taken up entirely by the screams of a catgirl who had beenforced into water.

The second second was also screaming.

“Sorry,” he said weakly, lurching to his feet. He gripped her by the ponytail—a grip he had no doubt she could break, and painfully, if she decided to, so he tried to be gentle as he tugged her to the grassy creek bank. “Not... intentional!”

She hissed angrily, but half-crawled, half-scurried onto the bank with him. There was a break in the tree canopy above which allowed the moonlight to shine down, and Jack could see plainly that she was unusually pale for this region—as milky-skinned as Meela, in fact, with brilliant short, spiky scarlet hair and two flattened orange-tufted cat ears. The voluptuous fey wore what most mortals would consider underwear, or perhaps swimwear. Although she wasn’t especially furry, she somehow managed to look like a wet rat after just a graze in the mud.

She glowered at him, but did not fight his grip.

Now that the risk of her breaking her arm appeared to have passed, Jack glowered back. “You stole my wine,” he said accusingly.

To his surprise, her scowl dropped away, and she giggled. “Wine’s nothing,” she said smugly.

“Like, excuse me?” He jabbed a finger accusingly. “That was mulled dryad peach wine!”

“Ooh, really?” She blinked. “Nice.”

“Yeah.” He pouted.

Even then, she didn’t seem too impressed, because she rolled her eyes. “Well, don’t get all whiny, babe. Wine’s still nothing to what we can give you.”

“Oh, yeah?” He narrowed his eyes. Now she was being flirtatious, after leading him out here? “Then what’s—ah—ah—ah!”

He stared at her, his mouth hanging slightly open. She grinned at him.

Before he’d even realized what it was doing, her nimble hand had slunk into his lap, beneath his trousers, and wrapped around his cock.

“What’s wrong?” she cooed. “Something wrong, druid boy?”

“I—um—” He sucked in a deep breath, biting his lip. His cheeks were burning. “I should really, um...”

Her ears were no longer flattened. She tilted her head, beaming. “You okay, baby? Something bothering you? Something you wanna tell me?”

Her fingers stroked slowly along his cock, encouraging it to get harder and harder. It strained against his trousers. A little driblet of precum came out, and he felt her tenderly rubbing that precum against his glans, lubricating him further.

His eyelashes fluttered, and he let out a soft sigh. Ooh... he really wanted to just lie down and spend the night with her. He shivered, staring deep into those milky green eyes. But... but he had things to... to do, didn’t he?

“Why’d you run?” he managed, swallowing. “Why, like, um... why lead me out here?”

“I like a chase,” she said, giggling. He felt her other hand slipping down to unbuckle his belt. Then, she licked her lips and looked up at him with a demure look, as if seeking permission. Her fingers curled around his trousers, ready to pull them down.

He nodded without even thinking about it. She smirked as his cock sprang free.

“B-but...” He was starting to pant. “But w-why here? And why avoid me? A-and... why... oh, gosh... why m-mess with the villagers?”

“We wanted a druid,” she whispered in his ear. “We knew they’d call one! We never knew he’d be such a cute li’l bimbo, though.”

“O-ooh.” His lips quivered as his heart fluttered from the ‘compliment’. Her lips brushed against his ear, and he longed to lean in and feel more of her warm breath on him, to kiss her, to be tasted by her... “So you just... wanted to h-have some fun?”

“Someone’s been lonely tonight,” she cooed. She continued to stroke his cock with both hands, steadily pumping him up.

“P-please!” Jack sensed that this mischievous fey was quite intent on making him cum right then and there. And he knew that once he came once, he’d probably lose what little sense he had for... well, as long as she had her fingers around his cock, at any rate. And then he’d really be a bimbo.

“Please what, baby?” she cooed in his ear. Her fingers slid slickly up his shaft, lovingly caressing his head. “Please you? Please what, baby?”

For a second, Jack almost couldn’t remember what he’d been asking for, and he nearly said ‘more’. Luckily, he recovered his wits. “I-Is that all you wanted?” he whispered. “That’s why you lured me away f-from my camp? Just—ah! Oh! Ooh... —j-just to have some alone time here?”

“Weeell...” She kissed him on the cheek. “Not here. We’re gonna take a li’l trip, bimbo boy!”

“Wh—” Jack fell silent as he saw two more pairs of milky-green eyes staring at him from the darkness.

“And who said I was alone?” the curvy catgirl cooed, as two more pale catgirls—one a blonde, one a brunette—slinked out of the shadows towards them.

“Ooh, Kitty,” cooed the blonde, batting thick eyelashes down at him, “he’s a cutie!”

She was unmistakeably ogling his big, throbbing, dribbling cock. Unfortunately, noticing this just made him harder.

“He sure is,” hissed ‘Kitty’, licking his cheek with her rough tongue. “Let’s get him to the well.”

The well. He was so immersed in pleasure from her fingers around his cock, it took him a moment to register. The well.

“I—hey, what?” he protested, squirming as the blonde and brunette took hold of his shoulders and legs. “The... the well?”

His heart raced as pure fight-or-flight threatened to take over. He couldn’t go there. Couldn’t ever go there!

“Hush, boy,” Kitty cooed, and as she started to lick his cheek with all the intentness of a mother cat grooming her kitten, he felt...

Oh...

Oh...

His cock’s sensitivity began to rise.

Oh. “Oh,” he whimpered. “Oh—oh—nnnno—ah! Ah! AAH!!”

With satisfaction dripping from her every giggle, Kitty took careening him over the edge, and he came. Cum spurted from his cock, and as it did, the catgirls took advantage of his momentary vulnerability, his momentary surge of blinding pleasure, to surround him, to hoist him up...

... and for the blonde to lock her pouty red lips around his cock as it continued to spurt.

As his sensitivity continued to climb with every lick Kitty gave him, as the blonde began to very, very slowly suckle—an edging torment that was driving him mad—and as they began to carry him away, his legs and arms held fast above him like he was tied to a pole, he heard the brunette purr in his ear, “Easy, sleepy boy. Easy for his mommies. Easy, sleepy boy. Don’t need to fret. This is just a dream. Just a dream. Just a dreeeeam.”

“Let—let me go!” he cried, even as pleasure flooded his poor, frail body.

“So easy for his Mommies. Easy, sleepy boy.”

“You can’t brainwash me when I’m wide awake!” he snapped, though the sharpness of his comeback was undercut as he neared orgasm, his eyes crossed and he started to whimper and whine again.

“Maybe we can’t,” purred Kitty, as she stopped licking momentarily. She seemed slightly unconvinced. “But the Milkmaid can!”

He blinked.

And started cumming again, to the blonde’s squeals of delights.

“And she will!” Kitty said happily, before returning to licking his face.

It was a long night for poor Jack.

The catgirls teased him mercilessly all throughout the journey, and as it turned out, they started out quite a ways off from the ley well. Roughly a night’s journey, in fact, give-or-take a few breaks for the catgirls to play with one another.

The catgirls seemed to be trying hard to keep him from cumming too much, but after a point, Jack had realized that he had to do was whimper and beg and the blonde—whose name appeared to be Minty—would invariably lose all composure and start sucking like crazy. The catgirls would make a big show of getting mad at her, but the scolding usually devolved into fingering, licking, ‘grooming’, and a surprising amount of breastsuckling—more than he usually saw from catgirls. Minty seemed quite effectively disciplined each time... until he started begging again.

He didn’t beg much, though. Jack was trying very hard to be strong.

He had only cum twelve times so far.

Jack knew he was firmly in orgasm fatigue—the state under which a victim couldn’t cum ‘normally’ anymore and the fey had to ‘help’ him to cum further, rendering his mind extremely vulnerable in the process. The catgirls essentially controlled his orgasms completely now.

Overall, by the time the sun peeked over the treetops and they first came within eyeshot of the ley well, Jack was a wreck.

The ley well was still about a mile or two off when Jack first spotted it, framed within a field of wildflowers atop the tall mostly tree-less hill. It was quite a mundane-looking thing—aside from being atop a hill, it could easily be mistaken for an ordinary well.

But he started to squirm as soon as he saw it. He felt its energies. And the catgirls felt him squirm.

“He senses it!” Kitty sang, licking his lips. He flinched and moaned. “Excited, baby? Are you?”

“Unh...”

“I love introducing druids to the ley well!” Kitty beamed. “Don’t you, Minty?”

“Mm-hm!” Minty moaned, rolling her tongue over his cock. She stared up at Jack with smoldering eyes, and he had a feeling some whimpering was coming on pretty soon.

As they drew nearer, he felt the buzzing of the ley well rising in his poor, tired mind.

“Oh, please,” he heard himself whimpering. “Please—please—AAAH!”

He begged twice more before they finally reached the well. It was only then that he realized just how much trouble he was in.

There were two figures by the well.

One he instantly recognized, and a pang of dread and regret entered his heart as the pale redhead spun around and beamed. She pranced up with an excited squeal. “Jack! You made it!”

“M-Meela,” he whimpered, eyes darting between Meela’s unmistakable delight and the blonde catgirl standing between his legs, savoring his cock with an almost predatory greed.

“Oh, goodness.” She clapped her hands excitedly. “You look adorable! I never knew druids could blush so red!” She spun around to face the other figure, her expression radiant with joy. “Did I do well, Mistress?”

Jack shuddered.

The Milkmaid, as it turned out, was a holstaur.

He stared at her in equal parts wonder and fear.

A fucking gorgeous holstaur.

She was dressed only in a very simple brown dress and a white apron, like a farmworker or cleaning servant. Her skin was as pale as the catgirls’ and Meela’s, but her eyes were a deep, rich hazel. Her straw-blonde hair hung down in two long golden braids, and her breasts...

Her breasts.

Even covered by her straining dress, he could tell they were massive. Big, even by holstaur standards. A mortal with breasts like that would have trouble even standing, but the Milkmaid stood tall as she smiled a crimson smile at Meela. “Yes, baby,” she said sweetly. “You did very well for me. He’s perfect.”

Meela preened, bouncing on her feet like a dog waiting to be fed. “C-can I... can I, um...” She chewed her lip.

“Just ask, baby. You must always tell me when there’s something you want.”

“C-Can I suckle you, Mistress?” Meela whispered.

The Milkmaid smiled, reached up, and pulled her dress down to allow one breast to spill out.

Glorious pleasure flooded through Jack as he came into Minty’s mouth, eliciting giggles from his captors. He couldn’t control his cries, lost staring at the massive, impossibly soft breast. The Milkmaid’s nipple was large, and pert, and already dripping with milk.

He watched Meela walk towards it, as if in a daze, and lean in with a whimper. She practically buried her face into the softness of the Milkmaid’s tit. Loud, wet suckling sounds, punctuated by the occasional moan, followed.

The Milkmaid let out a long, soft, sensuous sigh, clutching Meela to her chest. Even from a distance, Jack could hear the holstaur cooing nonsensical syllables, comforting sounds clearly meant to lull Meela into a state of helplessness. Judging by Meela’s eyes, this treatment wasn’t even necessary.

Then the Milkmaid’s eyes shot up to his, and Jack started struggling anew, the afterglow of Minty’s blowjob fading in the face of fear.

“Well, well, well,” she said, putting a finger to her lips. With one hand, she continued to clutch Meela, as with the other, she raised a hand in smug greeting. “Hail and well-met, sweetiepie.”

Jack strained against the catgirls’ grips. The catgirls weren’t much stronger than him, and they seemed extremely distracted by the display. The trouble was, so was he, and all it took was one sudden move for Minty to take notice. And it only took a little roll of Minty’s tongue to weaken his efforts to pathetic squirmings and little more.

“So you’re... their Mistress?” he asked, trying to keep his composure.

“Oh, I don’t like words like that, no, no.” She tutted, shaking her head. “Isn’t that right, Kitty?”

“That’s right, Mistress,” Kitty said, not-so-subtly rubbing her pussy as she watched Meela’s ministrations.

“See?” The Milkmaid sighed. “They just insist. I find people tend to... insist with me.” her milky eyes glimmered. “They really do take advantage of me. I just can’t help but help the needy.” She caressed Meela’s cheek. “Isn’t that right, baby girl?”

“Mmmm!” agreed the redhead suckling at her teat, as milk dribbled down her chin.

The Milkmaid glanced at the glassy-eyed catgirls, chuckling. “Has this sweet boy been left... wanting?” Her eyes darted to Minty, still suckling at the tip of Jack’s cock.

Minty made guilty whimpering sounds. The catgirls kicked their feet.

The Milkmaid only giggled, though. “Oh, don’t worry, my sweets. That just means we get to have a bit of a challenge.” She winked.

The catgirls, clearly relieved, giggled as well. “Ooh, it won’t be any challenge against you!” cooed Kitty, lifting Jack’s head by the hair and kissing him on the cheek. “Just look at him!”

“Yes...” The Milkmaid stared at Jack, who felt suddenly a whole lot more naked. Despite her having a young woman actively drinking at one of her exposed breasts, somehow, The Milkmaid just seemed more... decent than he felt. Decorous. Modest. Tasteful.

And he really was blushing.

He gave a nervous laugh. “I... I hope you know how much trouble you’re in.”

“Oh, I do.” The holstaur gave a truly wicked grin. “I’ve been so naughty, sweet boy. But I think the real question is.... do you know how much trouble I’m in?”

Jack bit his lip. He stared at the milkmaid’s beautiful milky eyes, then at the blissful Meela.

“She looks beautiful, doesn’t she?” the Milkmaid whispered, her voice as wet and whimpered as the cries of her nursing plaything. “I think sometimes that there is nothing quite so beautiful as a good, obedient girl drinking from her Mommy.” Her eyes sparkled. “Except... maybe a good, obedient boy?”

Jack’s mouth was dry.

And somehow, he felt absolutely certain that the holstaur knew that, because her smile broadened as she curled a finger and beckoned.

Minty’s lips slid off his cock with one last happy sigh, and the catgirls released him. Jack sank into the grass with a confused “Oof.”

After a moment, he rose to his feet and found himself staring straight at that beckoning finger, and the glowing eyes behind it that promised so, so much pleasure.

“Come here, sweet boy,” whispered the udder sprite, barely holding back a grin. “Doesn’t she look peaceful? It’ll feel so, so good. And you like feeling good.” She stroked Meela’s hair with her free hand. “One sip from me, and you’ll be so... so good for me.”

Jack’s head was spinning—from sexual exhaustion, from the sight of the holstaur, but worst of all, from the ley well.

He shook himself, trying to clear his head. There had... had to be a reason they were this close to the ley well. Something about this was wrong. Very wrong.

“I... I don’t think so,” he managed, even as he found his hand slipping down and running over his painfully needy cock, still slick from Minty’s spit, still sensitive from Kitty’s spells. He was only lightly touching it, but it was all he could do not to stare straight at Meela’s closed, blissful and pump himself dry right then and there. But he steadied himself and forced his hand away. “One sip from you, and I’ll have to take two.”

The holstaur gave a pretty, tinkling laugh. Her eyes shone with genuine mirth, and she shook her head, wagging her finger at him as if scolding a mischievous child.

“Edge him,” she said sweetly.

Jack blinked. “Wha—”

The catgirls tackled him from behind, dragging him right back onto his back. He barely managed a cry before he was being held to the ground by Minty, who beamed at him... and started nuzzling his face.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

He started to whimper before the first tongue even touched his cock.

Up above, Minty held him in an iron grip, and he felt her magic flooding through him, heightening his sense of touch—and, he realized fearfully, his sense of smell. The Milkmaid’s milk smelled so indescribably perfect and sweet, it almost made his head throb.

And down below, the catgirls were planting the teensiest of tiniest of little licks.

Right on his cock head.

He squealed, hips bucking, desperately seeking a tighter sheath. Instead, the catgirls giggled, pushed him back down, and drew their tongues over his shaft in particularly long, torturous laps.

They licked him again and again. Minty started to kiss and lick his face, moaning loudly. His sensitivity was so unbearably heightened, even her kisses felt like kisses on his member, and he was crying out, drowning in the erotic whelm.

And this time, they were being very, very careful not to let him cum.

They licked him slowly, sweetly and whenever his breaths started to deepen, Minty would break off the kiss, beam at him, and whisper a tiny mew as he felt his sensitivity dropping down, down, down to near numbness. This would signal the others to stop, and they would instead crawl up and coo up at him.

“Isn’t this nice?” Kitty sang.

“Doesn’t it feel good?” hissed the brunette.

“So much better than Mistress’s heavenly milk, I’m sure!” Minty cooed mockingly. “Why don’t we just do this forever, since you love it so much?”

And when his arousal finally started to drop, back down they would go to tease without a shred of mercy. They licked, and tickled, and taunted, and teased, filling his body with lust and need.

And all the while, Jack felt that horrible distortion from the ley well. It was like... like a wave in his thoughts. A ripple in his mind. It distorted his perceptions ever so slightly.

He felt too good to resist it now. Too needy. Too desperate.

“Meela, baby, look at that,” he heard the Milkmaid say.

“Mm...” he heard Meela break away from the tit wetly, reluctantly. He saw from the corner of his eye the redhead staring at him. She blinked slowly, watching him squealing and giggling and whimpering, his face a burning red, her eyes heavy-lidded with milk-drunkenness.

“Why’re they... doin’ that to him, Mummy?” Meela mumbled, her voice distant and wobbly—as if she was half-asleep.

“That is what happens,” the Milkmaid said, reaching down and stroking Meela through her dress, “when you misbehave!”

“Oh. Oh...” Meela started humping the Milkmaid’s hand, right in broad daylight, without even a trace of shame. “Oh, M-Mummy, why would he do that?” she whispered.

‘Mummy’ stared right into Jack’s wide eyes, and Jack felt his spirit quail. A tongue lapped up his cock head, and he let out a tormented squeak.

“Because he’s naughty,” she said smugly, “and silly, and confused.” Her voice seemed to reverberate, like Jack was hearing her down a long, winding tunnel, spiraling down, down, down... “Too many thoughts. Poor boy. And you know what happens when you have to many thoughts, don’t you, baby?”

“Ah!” Jack cried, as Kitty planted the tiniest of kisses upon the head of his cock. She followed this up with several more—loud, messy kisses that did nothing but promise. “P-please!” he cried without thinking.

“Yeah, Mummy!” Her whole body bouncing as she rode the Milkmaid’s hand, Meela giggled. “They just f-fog you up. Oh... M-Make you act naughty. Sometimes you... you don’t even rem—remember how g-good it feels to obey and... and s-suckle like a good girl!”

“That’s right.” The Milkmaid caressed Meela’s cheek, but she was still looking straight at Jack with a triumphant smile as he panted and whined. “And what do we do when we have too many thoughts, baby?”

“Oh...” Meela whimpered. “W-we... ask Mummy to edge us stupid!” Her words trickled through Jack’s ears like sweet, warm honey. “To tease us until we’re nice and dumb and horny and can’t th-think g-g-gooood. Oh...” She wriggled in delight, clutching at the Milkmaid’s hand as she humped it with a singular drive. “To... to edge our brains out!”

“Do you have too many thoughts right now, baby?” the Milkmaid cooed.

“Oh, Mummy,” Meela cried, and Jack knew that there was no way she could ever answer any question from her Mistress in that tone of voicewith any other answer, “YES!”

The Milkmaid nudged Meela’s chin up and kissed her on the lips. “Go play with yourself,” she said sweetly, “and don’t come back until you cum.”

Meela parted from the Milkmaid with a small whine, sinking into the grass, her fingers already riding up her skirt. She started to toy with herself, her pussy in full view of Jack. “W-hen c-can I cum, Mummy?” she whimpered.

And the Milkmaid smiled knowingly.

“When you manage to spell ‘self-discipline’,” the holstaur replied with a giggle.

“Okay!” The councilmember’s face screwed up with concentration as her finger stroked over her clit. “Um... ‘S’... ‘E’... oh...” She bit her lip, barely holding in a cry. “Um, wait...”

The Milkmaid beamed down at Jack, reaching up to play with the milky nipple which was now forlorn. She raised an eyebrow, and Jack knew exactly what she was thinking.

Kitty kissed his cock. His heart was pounding. Edge myself stupid.

Minty nuzzled his neck and nibbled it slightly. Nice and horny and dumb.

The brunette lapped her tongue along his shaft and batted her eyelashes at him. “So good and dumb,” she cooed.

His cock throbbed in useless torment, and he gave a long, miserable cry. “Please!” he heard within the cry.

It was working.

He stared at the Milkmaid in dread. It was going to work. And she wanted him to know that. It had worked on Meela. It would work on him. He was already... already...

His mind swam as the catgirls pulled off his twitching cock again and rose up to eye level. Minty planted a little kiss on his chin. “Little bimbo!” she teased.

“Ooh, he likes this,” whispered Kitty, licking up his neck.

“Does he like being a good boy?” the brunette hissed, tickling his cheek with a blade of grass. “Ooh, isn’t he sorry he was so silly and rebellious?”

“So hard to think.”

“You looooove this.”

“Good boy.”

“Good baby boy for Mommies.”

“Wanna suckle.”

“Neeeeed to suckle.”

“Dumb.”

“Horny.”

“Little—”

Out of desperation, Jack thrust himself head-on into the World Base.

Jack was in a vast ocean of life.

He saw the maelstrom again—because he was inside it. Green swirled all around him in the souls of these three beastfey—green, fiery orange and earthen brown within curvacious carbon elementals. Behind them stood the holstaur, a majestic statue of swirling white and hazel, her breasts overflowing with silver, shining beneath a glowing sun.

And then there was the maelstrom.

It called him. It sang to him. It made his head swim with desire—desire to submit, to dive, to sink.

Worse, every little lick and kiss was like a sparkle of flame, surging life within him. His heart was soaring, even as his mind was sinking, sinking—drowning—

With all his might, Jack wrested himself away from the maelstrom and grabbed onto the catgirls. And he poured his sensation into them.

Their forms exploded in song. Their physical forms collapsed in wet, wriggling piles as he made them cum, and cum, and cum, but in the World Base... oh, how they flew. Like great, stretched slender cats the size of buildings, sprinting into the clouds—and then they were women, great sylphs dancing, fire and green and earth, and he felt their pleasure, he shared their pleasure—

And as he was lost in witness to their ecstasy, he only dimly noticed the holstaur moving towards him, her statuesque silver-dripping form reaching down towards him.

He stared at the catgirls as they writhed, screamed, sang in unspeakable bliss. It was like the stars were falling. He had never taken fey so far before, but he had been taken so far himself—the Druid’s Kiss was one of the most intoxicating, powerful, endless, mind-melting...

And then he felt fingers slip around his cock, and too late he realized he had spent far, far too long in the World Base. This was the Green, the world of the Fair Folk.

And druids weren’t exactly fey-resistant even outside of it.

As she pulled him up into her arms, as she guided his cock into her cleavage, Jack began to sing as well.

“Good boy,” the Milkmaid cooed. “Good boy!”

The human man whimpered in her arms as his cock throbbed between her tits.

Jilhe giggled, lovingly squishing her soft breasts around his cock, gently massaging herself even as she slowly pumped his cock.

Of course, poor little Jack hadn’t been nearly large enough to poke through to the other side of her breasts, even with her being rather artful about it. He was big, but she was bigger. Poor Jack wouldn’t have been able to feel her little kisses as he throbbed between her tits. And that would have been awful.

Fortunately for Jack, he had cum at least twelve times for the fey in as many hours. And that gave them power over him.

Gave his Mistress power over him.

So his cock was, in fact, quite large enough for her to plant lots of loving little kisses on it as she slowly, tenderly pumped him towards the orgasm of his new life.

“Isn’t this nice?” she cooed, smiling into his glazed green eyes. “Ooh, such a good boy. Feels so good to be a good boy for your mistress, doesn’t it, baby?”

“Nn. Mm. Ah.” Jack was still rapt in the World Base, to her delight. And she was quite determined that he would not be getting out anytime soon. Not when he was so delicious in this state.

“I bet this silly boy was wondering,” she whispered, stroking his hair as she heard his gasps deepening and knew that he was close, “what I wanted with him. Did I just want a sweet little baby boy to love and take care of?” She winked. “Well, yes. And don’t you loooove being taken care of?” She gave the head of his cock an extra-long suck, and giggled with delight as he moaned loudly.

Somewhere, buried within that adorable moan, was a ‘yes’, she knew.

“But there’s another reason,” she confided mischievously.”A secret reason. You won’t tell, right?” She batted her eyelashes.

“Um—ah—” He whined, hips bucking involuntarily. He was close. She would have to be sparing with the kisses if she wanted to draw this out.

For a moment, Jilhe just smiled down fondly at the druid she had captured. Oh, she was so glad it was a boy. She loved the ladies she had caught, but she had always wanted to give her Meela and the catgirls a ‘husband’ to play with, ever since she’d captured that one goblin maid and learned of the delights of needy, sleepy boys with big cocks and empty heads. It just seemed so... perfect.

And this one... oh, this one. She liked to think of herself as being open-minded, but the truth was, Jilhe knew she was shallow. Ooh, she was shallow. She liked pretty bimbo boys and girls, and this boy, with his bright red blushing face, beautiful glazed-over green eyes, and wonderful, wonderful whimpers and pleas, was the most delicious bimbo she had ever caught.

She needed him, but more than that, she knew that he needed her.

“I’ve been playing around,” she whispered, bouncing her breasts a little on ‘playing around’. “Some... games. With the ley well.”

Her breasts squished tenderly around his cock. He was gasping. She watched his panting lips, imagined those lips around her nipple... “A ley well is very special, you know,” she sang, petting his hair until his squirming morphed into a half-paralyzed stupor of whines and shuddering breaths. “It makes your head all sweet and tingly, doesn’t it, baby?”

“Aaahhh...”

“And for we fey... ooh... do you have any idea how many fey are around when there’s a ley well about?” She took his cock into her mouth and sucked it for a moment, careful not to tip him over just yet. Bimbos didn’t need to cum so often. “It pulls us into existence like a lure, baby bimbo boy.” She kissed his cock again. “Pulls us deeeeep in.

“And I’ve made this well a little bit special.” She giggled as his tongue lolled out in lust-drained stupor. “I... well, it might be a little bit complicated for you right now.”

He let out a ragged moan as his cock throbbed. She shivered slightly, able to intimatelyfeel how close he was. Yes, she thought, taking in a husky breath, Gimme. Give me your all, druid boy. “Let’s just say... let’s just say I made it fun.” She winked, giving her nipple a little squeeze. “So that all the fey who come by here—and the druids, don’t worry, sweetie—” She gave his cock a tender little lick. “Get to be nice and sweet and thir—”

And the boy started to scream.

Immediately, she went silent and took his cock between her lips, sucking eagerly as he came. The salty, bitter taste flooded her senses, but more than that, she tasted his submission to her. Her head spun with joy, and she moaned, licking and slurping even as she continued to work her soft breasts around his hard, throbbing member.,

And all the while, she stared deep into those wide, needy, mindless eyes. Yes, she thought slyly, You know who’s in charge now, don’t you, sweetie? So nice to be in charge. So nice to be a good boy for the Milkmaid.

And as his orgasm started to peter out, she could handle it no more. She pulled off his cock, gave it one last cleaning slurp, and beamed up at the crimson-faced druid. “But I need your help,” she said sweetly, pulling him up into a sitting position. She guided the trembling druid into her lap and could barely contain her joy when she caught him staring longingly at her dripping nipple. Her voice dropped into a tiny whisper. “You wanna help, don’t you?”

“Um...” He licked his lips and visibly swallowed. “I, um... I-I shouldn’t...”

She eased his head down until his lips touched her breast. Instantly, she felt him shiver as the thirst took over, his lips locked around her nipple, and he began to hungrily suckle.

The Milkmaid clutched the human to her chest, gasping like a drowning woman. She came right then and there with a squeal as his lips and tongue worked their wonders on her poor, aching tit. “Oh—oh, g-gods—yes! YES!”

“Mm!” he replied, eyes closing as he wrapped his arms around her. She felt his hands running over her back, slipping beneath her shirt. He would never let her go, she thought gleefully. Never.

“Y-you wanna be a good boy, don’t you?” she whispered, recovering slightly as her breastmilk flowed into his eager mouth. “Wanna help me?”

“Mm...”

“I know you do,” she cooed. She stroked his hair. “I need you to help me play with the well a little bit. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

“Mm... Mmm!” His fingers traced around the small of her back.

She grinned in triumph. “Oh... you poor, poor... poor... needy... bimb—”

His fingers completed a little spiral.

Jilhe’s eyelids fluttered.

“Wh—” She swallowed, shaking. “What’s—“

Her words gave way to a squeal as she came. Milk gushed out of her as she trembled and shook, her eyes wide in utter shock. She tried to manage a question, but only moans and cries came out. Can’t—can’t! CAN’T!

His fingers were tracing more determinedly, now, and she realized too late that the druid was drawing fey circles. The ticklish pleasure flowing through her was indescribable, alien, ancient. He was touching her in ways only the druids knew how to touch her, and she had never, ever felt so... so...

Helpless.

As two more spirals completed, she let out a hoarse scream and let her hand slip from his head. She collapsed, babbling nonsense words of pure ecstasy.

“Mm... girls...” He was mumbling, she realized, even as he kept suckling at her teat. He was lucid! Out of the World Base! “Mmm... M-Mistress... n-needs... help... mmmshlurp...”

And around her, Jilhe heard the catgirls mewing in confusion, still halfway lost in the World Base haze.

“Mistress?” she heard Kitty whisper.

“What do we do, Mistress?” squeaked Minty, audibly still stroking herself.

It took the Milkmaid a solid ten seconds to muster words over the pleasure spiraling through her poor, needy body.

“H-help!” she shrieked.

The catgirls started giggling.

In retrospect, Jilhe realized numbly, she should have been more specific.

Her boy—her sweet, obedient, naughty, wicked boy—fell away from her with a sigh, and immediately, the lips of two catgirls replaced him at her breasts. She looked down and saw Minty’s and Kitty’s bright, beaming smiles as they suckled. Their eyes were already closing in relief as her milk flowed into their gasping mouths.

The tongue between her legs, meanwhile, wouldn’t normally have bothered her. Holstaurs were really only about their breasts—the pussy was more a formality, foreplay at best.

But in this state

and with a catgirl’s hyper-sensitizing licks on her clit

As the catgirls started to moan in bliss, the Milkmaid’s brain started to melt in overwhelmed pleasure.

Jack watched the catgirls descend upon the wicked holstaur with a sigh. He couldn’t help but enjoy the sight, even as he smacked his lips in envy.

His head was still spinning from the milk as he turned and walked over to the well, sat down on the edge, and looked down.

“Well, well, well,” he mumbled, “you really did get up to all kinds of naughtiness, huh?”

He glanced back to the holstaur, who was squealing in delight as the catgirls licked and suckled her to the brink of madness. He glanced back at the well.

A ley well was, as the Milkmaid had said, a well that drew fey to it. Fey were most likely to generate nearby a ley well, and fey usually liked to make their homes nearby a ley well when possible. The Evergreen Forest was said to be full of them, though none had ever been conclusively found.

Ley wells were precious to mortal communities, of course—just a cup of water from a ley well was said to grant strong resistance to fey’s unwanted charms while accentuating your beauty to them—but from what she had said, he was pretty sure the Milkmaid had actually sought to target the fey somehow with this ancient construction.

And down below, he saw that the water of the well shimmered with unfinished magics. Clearly, she hadn’t been able to fully resolve whatever she had sought to do—a blessing, as a corrupted fey well... Jack didn’t like to think about it.

He reached down with the World Base—cautiously, of course, as the maelstrom still raged strong even without him being on the brink of orgasm—and felt a brilliant cacophony of fey spirits within. But there was a thickness to it, too. Like stagnant water with a film over it. Like the cream at the top of the milkpail.

His eyes narrowed.

This would take time to fix. Time to heal the damage she had done. One thing was for sure: It was way out of his league. He would have to call someone higher-ranking. Lim, maybe. Maybe even higher—one druid in particular came to mind. He would have to convince them to come and help, make sure they knew exactly what they were up against. This well was dangerously unstable. He didn’t like to think about what could happen if it stayed this way for long.

A hand pumped his cock slowly, tenderly, as the moans and squeals and giggles from behind rose in pitch. Soft lips kissed his neck. He stared down into the well, testing the Maelstrom.

A soft hand took him by the chin and turned him around, and he found himself staring into the milky-blue eyes of Meela. He stared at her, smiling dimly.

“There’s a good bimbo boy,” the redhead cooed, stroking his cheek. He beamed back at her as her fingers teased around his slick glans. She kissed him on the lips, and he tasted Mummy’s milk on her tongue.

She pulled back wetly and guided him down. “Drink,” she said sweetly, and he obeyed, taking her nipple between his lips and sucking mindlessly. She didn’t have any milk, but he knew it was right to obey. Bimbos obeyed. The World Base called him.

She slowly edged him into a trance of bliss as he sat there and suckled, and moaned, and nodded in agreement with everything she cooed in his ear. His head was nice and empty now.

After a while, she replaced the breast with a wineskin, and he was happy to drink down real milk as she continued to tease and deny him. She emptied it into him, and he was reduced to smiling idiotically as she beamed down at him.

“Good boy,” she whispered.

And she shoved him backwards.

He fell without a sound.

Jack jolted upright, his eyes wide and red-rimmed with sleepless panic. He looked around. He was sweating, even though it was chilly in the forest.

The forest.

He stared up at the trees, blinking.

He was back. Back in the Greatest, Darkest Forest—back at his campsite from two nights ago. Ferns grew all around him, tying his arms and legs, gently tickling him.

He looked down, and blushed bright red.

“Were we having a fun little dream?” cooed Marattii—the redheaded fiddlehead dryad who had so teased him earlier. “Was it a nice wittle dream, baby?”

“You really should get going soon,” cooed another fern dryad, kissing his neck tenderly as she clutched his naked chest. “You’ve wasted so much time with us. Didn’t you have some sort of mission to get to?”

He blinked. Memories of the dream—the vision? The premonition?—swirled in his head like a whirlpool. He could distantly feel the ley well tugging at him, even now. Now that he knew it for what it was. His pounding heart slowly quieted as an understanding settled, and he cleared his throat.

“I... I think I, um... should probably bring in someone higher than Third Circle to take this on, actually.”

The fern dryads exchanged looks and giggled.

“Um, duh!” The one sitting between his legs tickled his cock with a smirk. “You didn’t turn out to be nearly strong enough. I mean, look at you! That’s what Mummy wants, remember?”

He stared at her blankly. “What?”

She beamed at him.

He turned to the fern dryad kissing his neck. She smiled, too.

And it was then that he noticed how... milky their green eyes were.

He opened his mouth to scream.

“Aw...” A finger slipped between his lips, and a soft, gentle hand guided him to turn to face a gorgeous holstaur with long blonde braids. The Milkmaid smiled down at him as she pulled one massive, hypnotic breast out. “Did we forget again, baby?”

His eyes widened. His heart pounded.

And as she slipped his lips onto her nipple, he contentedly began to suckle. The fern dryads licked and stroked and tickled his cock, giggling over it, and he felt sweet pleasure flood his mind once more.

“Here’s my good boy,” the holstaur cooed sweetly. “Don’t worry, baby...

“I can’t wait for you to bring me that druid of yours, but this ‘Larya’ will never be able to replace your cute little blushes. Mm...

“... good boy.”