The Scarecrow's Revenge

There he hung, all those long painful years. There he hung, planning his revenge and waiting for this Halloween night, this very night to have his sweet revenge.

The scarecrow had been placed in the field years earlier, made of all the things scarecrows normally are: a burlap bag for a head with buttons as eyes and stitching for a mouth, old farm clothes, a rumpled fedora, and straw. He had been assembled by the woman who owned that field, and then tied to the support like he was being crucified.

But this woman was a witch who practiced herb and earth witchery, so she wanted to put a blessing spell on her field and her new scarecrow. But unfortunately for her, she misspoke as she recited the ancient text in that midnight field and actually gave the scarecrow awareness, consciousness, and senses -- senses that knew all too well he was tied to a cross beam in a field for year after long, painful year.

There he hung, watching the seasons slowly change, being driven mad by his mute impotence to change his situation, to express his feelings, to stop the agony of his existence. He watched as the golden fields of autumn turned slowly to the wicked white of winter where the winds ripped into him like a million shards of glass. He watched as the green-kissed fields of early spring turned into the verdant fields of summer with the cruel sun beating down on him. There he hung, tormented by all the seasons had to torture him with and unable to change it.

But he also saw all the people around him, unaware of his agony even as he shrieked to them in his head and begged for help. He saw the witch that was responsible for his pain as she walked the boundaries of her fields, celebrating the eight sabbats, blessing the land and asking for a bountiful harvest. He watched as the witch's daughter would use the field as a convenient place to escape her mother's prying eyes to fuck her numerous boyfriends. He watched, unable to interact with these humans but fully able to feel what they felt.

And as he watched he slowly grew more and more insane, waiting for this very Halloween night.

The spell that the witch unknowingly cast upon the scarecrow had a very specific eventual end. When the beams of a full moon fell unabated upon the scarecrow on a Halloween night he would be animated, a scarecrow humanized, and would have until dawn the next day to walk, to act, to feel, to be. Upon the first light of the new day he would be aware no more and return to nothing but a few scraps of old clothes, stitching, and straw.

The field was cloaked in darkness that night as the scarecrow screamed in his head for the clouds to part. His eyes could see all too well that the full moon, pregnant with the promise of his release, was hidden behind a thin veil of black clouds. Would he be denied his sweet release after all these years, only to have to wait how many more for his revenge? Would even the skies mock and torment him by withholding succor?

Just then, a wind kicked up that slowly parted the clouds, and the moon's bluish-white beams fell uninhibited at last upon the scarecrow. As the first magical light touched him, the scarecrow felt a strange tingling race through his entire body as the spell transformed his straw into flesh, bone, blood, and sinew.

But the spell did not create a perfect human, rather a straw scarecrow in human form; he appeared as if his flesh was infused with straw, strands of it running through and all around his newly formed skin. He coughed as he took the first breath through burlap-nostrils to fill fresh lungs, his breathing a gurgling, choking, belabored sound. Every breath he took was an effort as a result of the straw that permeated every inch of his new respiratory system. The scarecrow felt strength and power course through his newly formed straw-muscles. With one massive lurch he ripped the cords that bound him to the cross beam and leapt to the ground.

He was ready to be avenged.

The scarecrow walked slowly through the corn that now, for the first time in his existence, was taller than he. He walked towards the farm house in which the witch lived with her daughter. As he approached the clearing for the house and out buildings the scarecrow turned towards what he knew was a tool shed; opening the door with a creak he withdrew the item he was looking for: a freshly sharpened sickle knife.

The scarecrow then let himself into the darkened house. He stood there for a moment listening, trying to quiet his heavy, difficult breathing. He heard a television and soft talking in one of the rooms upstairs, recognizing that as the witch's daughter and her boyfriend du jour. He then heard giggling and heavy breathing from the downstairs bedroom, knowing that that is where he would find the witch.

The scarecrow withdrew as quietly as he had entered the house, walking around the back until he came to the window of the witch's bedroom. There he stood and peered into the dark room, lit only as it was by a few candles. He looked more carefully and could perceive two nude forms laying on the witch's bed, embraced and kissing passionately.

The witch was an attractive woman of about 45 or so, still very fit and exceedingly well built. Her body seemed perfect and flawless bathed in the soft orange glow from the half-dozen candles or so. The witch had long, curly black hair which she normally kept up, but now in such a relaxed moment the long curls poured all over her shoulders and down her back. Her face remained lovely, even etched as it was by a few thin wrinkles, and her entire face seemed to beam with light when she smiled. Her body remained tight and hard, with large, soft, firm breasts that were the envy of women twenty years her junior.

She lay back on her bed, her arms wrapped around and entwined by her lover, a man clearly many years younger than she. He lay on top of her kissing her lovingly, deeply, their tongues dancing around and playing with the other's. He kissed her neck and shoulders slowly, passionately, stopping occasionally to whisper things to her that made her giggle deliciously.

The witch's lover went on kissing her ever lower until he was playing with and gently licking her tits. This young man clearly enjoyed the pleasures to be found in a lovely pair of large, soft tits because he lingered here a long time, squeezing them teasingly, sucking hard on one nipple while pinching, pulling, and twisting the other, licking each in turn. This man loved tits and the witch loved to have hers played with.

The scarecrow stood outside the window watching all this, mesmerized by what he saw. Although his hatred for the witch diminished not a whit he did begin to feel a profound lust for her that he had never experienced before. In fact, as he stood there gazing at her he became aware of a tingling and a hardening he'd never experienced before. The spell that had given him straw-entwined flesh and sinew also gave him a straw flesh cock, one which was quite gigantic and now rigidly hard. The scarecrow stroked it, enjoying the fresh pleasure to be found from his newly-discovered cock.

Meanwhile, the witch's lover had kissed and licked his way down to her pussy, which sported a small tuft of thick black hair as curly and wild as that on her head. There he licked her clit hard even as he pumped his fingers in her slick pussy, making her moan loudly and happily. As he did the young lover rolled her ass forward slightly so he could also lick her asshole a bit, before returning to pay her engorged clit some much needed attention. As he did the lover licked, sucked, and fingered her into an orgasm that left her writhing, panting, and screaming his name for more.

Once the witch had cum several thunderous times, she said something to her lover and he got up then knelt where he was, she then getting on all fours to take his cock into her mouth. The way in which she positioned herself denied the scarecrow the ability to see her administer her oral talents to the lover's cock, but he was able to see her perfect ass being held high in the air, the pouty lips of her wet pussy peeking through deliciously. He watched her ass move and sway gently as she sucked her lover's cock, seeing her pussy literally drip and her asshole look like a well-opened pathway to pleasure. The scarecrow stroked his cock ever more aggressively, wanting the witch now as much as he hated her.

After some time of this unintentional show the witch turned herself around but remained on all fours, the lover now fucking her from behind. Again the scarecrow was unable to see exactly what was happening, which drove him mad with lust and desire even as earlier he was being driven mad with hatred and rage. He was, however, able to see the witch's beautiful face as her lover fucked her, and it was a face of pure joy, contentment, and free from any earthly worries or concerns. He eyes were closed, her brow knitted slightly, her mouth occasionally curling up into a delighted smile but usually just slack-jawed open as the pleasure of the fucking washed over her body. Finally, the pace of the fucking increased until her face was intense and fierce with orgasmic delight, pulling on the bed sheet hard and gritting her teeth as she reached orgasm yet again. Her loved also tensed up and arched back, every muscle in his well-made body straining, himself now also clearly cumming.

The pair collapsed in the bed, holding each other spoon style for several minutes as they caught their breath. The scarecrow then watched as the lover got up out of bed, talking to the witch as he got dressed. He then leaned down to once more kiss her lovingly on the lips and then left. The scarecrow walked to the corner of the house to watch the lover get in his car and drive away.

After so many years of planning his bloody revenge, the scarecrow now considered a more nuanced, thoughtful form of revenge rather than mere murder. There would be blood, make no mistake, but he now hatched a simply devilish plan to have vengeance as well as intense pleasure.

Walking back around again and entering the house once more, the scarecrow still heard the TV and talking from upstairs, but now approached the witch's bedroom as quietly as his gurgling breathing would allow him. He opened the door, to see her lying on her side and turned away; the candles still burned, giving her skin that delicious soft orange glow.

When she heard the floor board to her room creak slightly, the witch said softly, "Mmm...are you back for more already lover?"

It was then that she turned to face whoever was in her room and saw, to her extreme horror, that it was not her lover at all but rather the very vision of a nightmare.

As soon as she turned and her eyes bulged in terror the scarecrow pounced on her, flying to her with the speed and power that can only be born from years and years of tortured desire for vengeance and to wreak pain. He leaped on her and landed in the very same position her lover occupied some time before, except now pinning one hand down while the other held the sickle to her throat. He tried desperately to speak, to tell her all of his hatred towards her, to curse her for stupidly botching a simple spell; but his mouth was only stitches and was therefore now stitched closed, so all her could do was mumble, grunt, and gurgle his hate-filled curses at the witch.

The witch was terrified such to the point that her ability to think had utterly stopped and she now only reacted, trying desperate to pull what she thought was the mask of her intruder off his face, only to grab burlap-like skin and tufts of straw in her hand. Yet despite the pain this caused the scarecrow, he enacted his plan.

As a magical being now animated purely by magic, the scarecrow naturally had some spell-casting powers of his own. As the witch struggled to remove him, he waved his hand in front of her face and said powerful magic words to himself, which through his stitched mouth sounded only like "Eeeshhh-shoch." She instantly became mesmerized with a dumb, blank look to her face.

Now in quiet compliance, the scarecrow had time to relish laying on top of the naked, beautiful witch whose sexuality he was only just recently lusting for tremendously. He looked down and saw her large, perfect breasts moving tauntingly with every adjustment he made, and took in the deep, musky scent of a woman who just had sex. The scarecrow's cock, still sticking out of his overall's fly, now grew wickedly hard. He grabbed its thick, straw-like mass and slowly slid it into the still wet, cum-filled pussy of the witch.

The scarecrow lay on the magically-dazed witch, pumping his massive cock into her pussy with a force and a ferocity born out of hatred but fed by pure lust, enraptured by the power and control he had over his unintentional tormentor of many years.

After what to him felt like a few short seconds but was in fact many long minutes, the scarecrow shot a massive load of cum deep inside the witch. Unable to open his stitched-together mouth, the scarecrow was only able to growl loudly as he squirted his cum in her again and again.

He lifted himself off the witch, who now happily rolled over and went to sleep and would wake several hours later with no recollection of this encounter at all. The scarecrow slowly walked upstairs to where he heard the TV. He wondered why the witch's daughter and her boyfriend had never reacted to the commotion downstairs, but when he reached the upper landing he could tell by the odor the young couple had been smoking marijuana all night and were most likely too wasted to intervene. He realized this fact was a delightful addition to his plan for revenge.

He opened the daughter's bedroom door to see them lying on her bed twisted around each other, the air still thick with pot smoke. The scarecrow shuffled to the bed and stood over the couple for quite a while; they were both naked and had clearly been making love in between hits on the bong. The daughter appeared to be a twenty-year younger version of her mother, even down to the large, pink, candy drop-like nipples protruding from her large breasts.

As the scarecrow stood there staring at the young couple, he saw the boyfriend stir slightly and raised his sickle knife in anticipation... The boyfriend mumbled, and the knife went higher... He now rubbed his eyes slightly, and the sickle was as high over head as the scarecrow could lift it...

The boyfriend finally opened his eyes, and for perhaps half a second didn't realize what he saw standing over him...

He then realized he was looking at his own bloody death, and had just begun to suck in the breath he would use to scream out for help when the scarecrow brought the sickle knife down with crushing force onto the boyfriend's neck, lopping his head off with one powerful stroke. The quiet hiss of the young man's blood squirting out of disconnected arteries erupted as his head rolled into the corner, and then silence.

Alone with the daughter, the scarecrow looked at her longingly and again found his massive cock very responsive, standing up rigid and hard. She lay there on her belly, now covered in her boyfriend's blood, and blissfully unaware of the horror of this Halloween night. He slowly pulled the blood-soaked sheets down to reveal her entire body and found that her ass was a perfect, albeit younger version of her mother's. She lay there with her arms under her pillows supporting her head, her right leg pulled up and clearly exposing her recently-fucked ass, and the way forward was now clear to the scarecrow.

Sliding down behind her, the scarecrow again cast his powerful stupefying spell, then grabbed her ass and pulled her into the doggy position and gently nudged his cock into her asshole. The scarecrow's gigantic, straw-like cock was shoved unceremoniously into the daughter's cum-lubricated ass, spreading her tender flesh far wider than it had ever been opened before and filling her to a depth she had never experienced. If she had been fully conscious of what was happening the daughter would have cum many times just as a result of the delicious pressure.

Once the scarecrow had opened her ass well enough to easily take his cock he quickly began to pump her faster and faster. He slammed into her with all his force and power, just as he had done to her mother. Yanking back on her arms with such force and so far that they nearly snapped, the scarecrow pulled her ass towards him even as he slammed into it, forcing himself far deeper than any man had ever been before.

He again spent himself in what felt like far too soon an amount of time for such delicious revenge, filling her ass with so much cum that it soon began to squirt out of her and all around his cock. After a moment of recovery the scarecrow then stood and took up the sickle knife again, but rather than hurting the daughter he placed it in her hand and squeezed tightly to imprint her finger prints on it cleanly.

He then slowly shuffled his way out of the house, feeling a vengeance far more satisfying then merely slaughtering the family. He laughed in a wet, gurgling way as he left. The scarecrow knew full well that when the daughter awoke to see her boyfriend decapitated and the bloody sickle knife in her own hand she would begin to scream in wild hysterics and her mother would respond. The police would be called, the daughter's drug use would explain the heinous event, and she would go to jail. The witch would have her daughter ripped from her, alone to suffer and wonder what happened.

The scarecrow laughed again more loudly, exceedingly pleased with the way in which his plan came about.

His vengeance complete, his twisted and tormented soul satiated, the scarecrow now slowly walked back to his crossbeam, the only home he had ever known during his sad, misbegotten existence. There he waited, facing east, now only wishing for the dawn's first beams of sunlight to touch his magically-animated body. When they did, the power that had so briefly moved his body yet so long imprisoned him in mute misery left him forever, and the scarecrow now crumpled into a lifeless pile of burlap, old clothes, and straw.

Halloween had come and gone, and with it a vengeance complete.