The cardinal rule of the Wire Woods was never trust a shortcut.
If Miles ever got out, he'd never disobey it again.
He shivered again as a wind swept through the forest, bringing with it the first chill of coming night. He glanced again at the sky, where a once blue horizon burned with evening's reds and golds, peeking through the thick branches and leafy boughs. Stupid, stupid, stupid! He again shouldered his pack, putting on another spurt of speed. Day was bad enough in the Wire Woods, but night brought out the absolute worst. No one went near the forests after dark. Not unless they wanted to become the pet of some demon spawn residing within. Miles had no intention of sharing that fate. He just had to keep following the path. All paths lead somewhere!
He just hoped it wasn't to the lair of a succubus.
Miles was looking up at the sky so often to check how long he had, that he didn't notice the clearing until he was right in it.
He staggered to a stop, and not just because of the thick brambles that grew from the center of the clearing like a dark dome, but also because before him were a dozen paths spreading out of the clearing, spaced apart like the spokes of a wheel.
"Oh shit," he groaned.
"Hm?"
Miles jumped, whirling about. "Who said that?" he demanded.
"Me of course!"
Miles turned with creeping horror towards the brambles in the center of the clearing. They were being parted by a pair of hands of a blue so deep it was almost purple. Skin of a similar hue came into view as the brush was pushed away, revealing a woman of jaw-dropping proportions, not the least of which was the fact her hips ended in a network of roots. She rested among the thorny bushes as if never even noticing their spikes, her breasts so large Miles wondered if she could even get up. Her hair spilled in richest green leaves, half covering her face, her lips a shade of purple they were nearly black, and so big and soft they made Miles blush just to see them.
He felt himself relax, but only just. Not a true demon. Merely a tainted. A melon or a berry girl. Weaker spawn of the demon's taint. Though, he knew as well that the corrupted had threats all their own.
"Oh!" the plant woman cried, clapping her hands delightedly. "What a cutie came by to say hello. Hi! My name's Tartiana. What's yours?"
Miles felt himself blush a little when she said that, for her ample bosom tended to wobble distractingly whenever she spoke. "Um, Miles."
"Miles!" she said, her tongue moving over her soft lips as if tasting the name. "Mmm. What a cute name. Perfect for such a cute boy."
"Uh, thanks," Miles said uneasily. He felt his cheeks warm with embarrassment. He hadn't been called cute since he'd turned twenty last year. He glanced nervously about the clearing. "Are you alone?"
"Yup! Just me. Which is why I'm just so happy I got a visitor! It's been soooo long," she cooed, and Miles couldn't help but notice how she fondled her immense, firm breasts. Like two great blueberries swelling on her chest.
"Yeah, I imagine."
"Of course! Nobody comes out to the Wire Woods. And so late! I get so lonely," she said, fluttering her soft lashes at him.
Miles felt his blush return, but wasn't too worried. Such a bimbo wasn't really a threat. He could outthink her, if it came to that. "If you've been here for a long time, does that mean you know where these paths go?"
"Sure!" Tartiana giggled. "I know these woods like the back of my breasts!"
Again Miles's eyes were pulled to those wobbling orbs before he managed to wrest them back to her face. "Oh, um, great! Does that mean you know which way leaves the forest?"
"Totes!" Tartiana giggled and pointed to one of the paths. "It's that way."
Miles fairly sagged in relief. "Great! Thank you," he said, turning down the indicated trail.
"Or, um, maybe it was that one?"
Miles paused as she pointed at the path in the complete opposite direction. "But..."
"Or um... oh gosh. It might even be that one," she said, pointing in a third, completely opposite direction.
Miles glanced again at the sky darkening through the boughs. "Look, do you know the way out or not?" he said.
"Um, oh gosh. I'm sorry," Tartiana groaned, fondling her bouncing breasts. "It's just um... I always have trouble concentrating when my big, bouncy berry tits get all stuffed with juice."
"They... um..."
Miles trailed off, his jaw slowly dropping as he spotted a bead of blue liquid drip from Tartiana's puffy nipple.
"Oh gosh yes. I grow soooo much juice, you know," Tartiana moaned, continuing to bounce her plump tits, squeezing them between her arms. "And no one comes down the paths ever! I can never find a nice boy to help me squeeze my sweet, berry juice out."
"O-oh," was all Miles could say, his head slowly nodding with the bouncing of those massive, blue breasts.
"But I always think so much clearer when they're all drained out. All squeezed out. Like it squeezes out all my thoughts. All my confusion."
"Th-thoughts?"
"Oh gosh yes! Not that I ever have many," she giggled. "All I've got to think about is how full my tits are. How bouncy. How a handsome boy would just love to watch and touch them. Stroke and kiss them."
Miles couldn't look away. What was more, he was becoming aware of a far from subtle pressure in his pants. He cleared his throat, trying to shake himself from his stare. "W-well, if it would help you think, I guess I could... maybe..."
"Would you?" Tartiana gasped, her large eyes shining. She shifted in her bed of brambles, her large breasts bouncing. "Oh thank you, thank you! I knew you were a good boy the moment I saw you!"
Miles again felt a flush at those words, but decided not to challenge them. What business was it of his if she called him a good boy? So long as she gave him directions, she could call him the Baron of Gula. Besides, so long as he kept his head about him, he'd be fine. She was far too dumb to trick him.
Still, he approached warily. One could never be too careful in the Wire Woods, after all. As he came closer, the sweet scent of blueberries surrounded him like a haze. The strength of it stunned him, but on he went, making his way carefully over to Tartiana, ready to bolt like a startled rabbit at the first sign of treachery.
