Angelica was fuming, throwing her arms up in the air in exasperation.
"Why won't that idiot get it into his head!" she bemoaned. The idiot in question was another man from her little village of Donstorf, nineteen like she was. Sven, and he fancied himself a ladies man.
He was handsome, he had that going for him, but what he didn't was charm. His advances and propositions towards her grated on her nerves to no end, completely oblivious to the fact his 'seduction' was cringe-worthy and annoying.
He thought she was simply playing coy, making it a game, or that she'd come around eventually, no matter how many times she rejected him.
Next time, she'd have to really put her foot down instead of being polite. That was getting her nowhere.
She kicked a rock on the overgrown path leading into the deeper reaches of Ettenswood. It was a place the villagers never went to. They said a curse lay on the heart of the forest, that it was dangerous.
She liked going there. She could be alone, and for as much outward confidence as Sven liked to project, he was too superstitious and timid to come here. Not like it was any more or less dangerous than the rest of the Ettenswood, or any different for that matter. The trees were only marginally taller, though she did spy a rocky hill shrouded in the very heart of the forest a few times. She'd never gone closer, the path ended before it got near.
This time, however, she was feeling so grumpy, she decided to hike up her simple long skirt, made of flax and dyed green, and tromp over the gnarled roots of the trees that cut the path short.
Her leather shoes weren't really made for this, more suited to simple house and yard work, but they held up well enough, and her grey and green cotton dress protected her from wayward twigs and shrubs well enough.
And there was enough of a canopy that, even though the forest was brightly lit, the sun didn't shine too harshly on her freckled face and curly auburn hair.
Her sapphire eyes still scanned the treeline and the bushes around her, in case something like a wolf or an angry deer rushed her from the flanks. One could never be too cautious, but she had never understood the superstition of this place.
Everyone passed it on, it went back generations, but no one could quite recall why. Many chose to err on the side of caution... but Angelica had few such reservations. And every venture here had ended with her returning home with nothing more than the occasional scratch from a twig or pointy bark. Sometimes she even found blueberries, ripe and ready for the taking. It was always a good day when she found blueberries. There were mushrooms too, but she left that to the mushroom hunter, Harriot. She did not trust in her ability to identify safe mushrooms from dangerous ones.
Most people foraged away from the centre though. Sometimes, Angelica wondered if there was something valuable there, something people didn't know about because they let ghost stories keep them away.
Ah, but that was for another time, she was still too sour to go exploring, she just wanted to be further away from that idiot, and anyone else that might yell out to recall her.
She sat on a fallen log to rest for a moment, dusting off her dress and brushing her arms; nominally, her complexion was pale, but she had gained a slight tan from working under the sun most days, even when she wore a hat. Her skin was slightly spotty, her youthful freckles starting to fade, but they were everywhere when she was younger.
Her dainty nose, tip slightly upturned, flexed as she scented the air, though all she got was the musty, moist smell of the forest, but there was sweetness there.
Nothing unusual, really. This forest was far from cursed.
She got off the log with a small 'hup', brushing off a spider that had crawled onto her thigh with only minor annoyance.
She was left wondering if Sven would leave her alone if she found another man. Jaque... he was a handsome man, only two years her senior, but she didn't know how to approach him. He didn't seem interested into romance, polite as he was.
Was she not his type? Sven aside, others had complemented her on her looks, even if her figure was average. Curvy, and not 'flat', but hardly voluptuous like Nina was. Even Angelica found herself staring at times.
She decided to push those thoughts aside; she'd come here to blow off steam and calm down, not get wound up in thinking that'd get her more annoyed or frustrated.
She passed between a pair of trees, their roots gnarled together and their trunks leaning away from one another, forming a 'V' shape.
On the other side, was a surprising sight; a pile of dark grey stone bricks.
It look like they formed a pillar once, perhaps about chest height with her. A quick glance around showed what looked like the remnants of a ceramic bowl, so fragmented that most of it was almost dust.
The pillar itself only just reached above her waist now, having fallen to pieces over the years. Or decades. Maybe more, she couldn't quite tell, it felt old.
There were no other marks that really told her what it was. A brazier? An offering bowl? Just a way marker?
She had no idea, but it was starting to give the superstitions
some
weight, even if Angelica thought it was hogwash.
She continued past the crumbled pillar, making for another gap in the trees, the rocky hill a bit closer in the distance, but still a ways off.
On the other side of the gap, was a small, but brightly lit clearing full of plush, bright green grass. The sun shone done wonderfully into this spot, devoid of anything out of place save for a large boulder to the left, the granite lump three times her height, but otherwise unassuming.
She stepped into the clearing, and turned around, taking in a deep breath, and sighing comfortably; even the air felt a little clearer and sweeter here.
It was peaceful, the birds chirping as they did, and the gentle rustling of the canopy in the breeze.
If only there was a log in the middle of the clearing for her to sit on, but laying down might have been just as pleasant, the grass, though short, felt very soft.
She was just about to do so, when she spotted something... odd, near the boulder.
It was a grey-purple stalk, glossy and possibly slick? Whatever it was, it was waving slowly, listlessly, but not from the wind.
Curious, Angelica approached the oddity, drawing close to it.
As she did, she noticed that it seemed quite smooth, and was indeed covered in a subtle film of slime, the thing looking almost like it was made of flesh.
It was no snake, nor was it some slug. Was it a fungus? It was the strangest plant she'd ever seen, if that's what it was.
Part of her warned against touching it... but she wasn't the squeamish sort, and curiosity beckoned her.
She reached out towards it, and brushed her fingers over slick thing.
She recoiled her hand with a start when it suddenly curled in response, as if trying to loosely grab her. It went back to waving idly.
What a funny thing it was, Angelica cocking her head and reaching out again. She didn't shy away this time, and the thing draped across her palm, seemingly in reflex, but it didn't seem intelligent.
It was moist, and cool. She narrowed her eyes, and brushed her thumb across the stalk to feel its texture.
It was quite pliant, smooth and rather pleasant despite the film of slime.
And in response, it loosely wrapped around her palm, imparting a weak grip.
She made a sound of surprise and curiosity, and smiled a little in amusement at the response of the thing. That smile turned to a bothered frown when she tried to pull her hand away... and the tendril tightened its grip.
For being slimy, it didn't seem ready to let go as she tugged on her hand... oblivious to the other, larger tendrils that had emerged silently from the earth around her, rising up and looming close, until it was too late.
She felt something around her neck, and noticed the tentacle attempting to wrap around her throat.
She let out a panicked shriek and stood up, but that seemed to aggravate the tentacles further... and there were more of them.
"What that—let me go!" she screamed, trying to pull the tendril off her neck and her wrist with her free hand, but more tentacles were now wrapping around her body, her legs, one snaking around her waist, all attempting to drag her down onto the grass where more tendrils awaited her.
She was desperate now, but the slippery limbs gripped tighter than she would've realised, and they were deceptively strong, moving with swift purpose now their prey was attempting escape.
But she was outmatched, and she was dragged down to the grass, where thicker tentacles lashed her body down, and coiled around her limbs and head. She screamed in terror, but her eyes widened when several smaller tendrils snaked towards her mouth, hooking their tips around her teeth, and prising her jaw open enough for a particularly thick organ to lazily meander its way towards her mouth.
She resisted as best she could, trying desperately to get off the ground, but the grey-purple tentacles held her fast... and with wide-eyed horror, she watched as the organ approaching her open mouth slid past her lips, over her tongue, and into her throat. It was oddly sweet, like honey.
It pushed deep, making her gag, her desperate writhing doing nothing to stop its descent... and as soon as it was deep enough, it began to push
something
into her gullet.
She saw bulges forced along the tentacle rhythmically, contractions pushing each lump into her body.
She tried to free an arm to claw the tentacle out of her mouth, but the other stalks were unyielding. And soon, she felt a strange lethargy fall over her, along with an oddly pleasant fugue.
She groaned as whatever it was being pushed into her, both solid if squishy objects and lumps of goop, began to affect her body and mind, a tingling sensation prickling all over her skin.
She squirmed desperately, but her strength had started to wane... and worse, she felt a warmth in her loins.
Arousal? How in damnation could she be aroused!? But such was the case, feeling moisture in her undergarments, and her nipples straining against the cloth brassier beneath her dress.
