Monstrous Ranch Ch 18

Mages had all sorts of ways to teleport. At least, those rare few who possessed the talent. Some liked to teleport with great fanfare and excitement—big explosions, blasts of lightning, clouds of mist, flocks of jays. Some preferred to teleport with absolutely no effect at all, of course. These boring individuals simply blinked into existence, with nothing so much as a flash or puff of smoke.

Anya generally fell somewhere in the middle. She

absolutely

understood the appeal of the "big flash", but she didn't really like advertizing her presence to everyone and their dog. A mage had to have standards, yes, but there was nothing shameful about a bit of caution.

And so it was that Anya Wetherdean appeared in the small town of Yojeong with a single, decisive

bip

.

It was nighttime, and so there were few about to pay her any heed. There was one elderly Eastern gentleman packing up a stall full of books, and he did shoot Anya an annoyed glare, but he turned away without a word when she returned his attention with a raised eyebrow.

So, not terribly friendly towards newcomers—which, fair, Anya was well-aware that her presence here was a necessary evil at best—but also not too unused to teleporters.

Or this just happened to be a very cranky, very magic-accustomed old man.

Anya was off-balance. Not from the teleportation—teleporation was Anya's job, and she was

damn

good at it. No, she was off-balance because she had no idea what she was really doing. All she knew was that Senya hadn't written in weeks since setting out with a very sketchy ex-pirate, and her messages simply weren't getting through. He'd last written from a tavern here in town. So it made sense to stop by that tavern.

The tavern was an old, well-loved establishment by the name of the

Hanidoron

. There were lights on inside, indicating at least

some

activity within. Maybe some traders. Maybe some traders who'd seen her brother.

Anya bit her lip.

Anya generally saw herself as very at-home in a lot of different situations. She'd grown up on the streets, and learned to be tough and vicious, but then she'd gotten picked up by Duke Horatio's 'talent scouts' and lodged in an apprenticeship, and she'd learned to be even more vicious there. She'd done a lot of good work behind enemy lines, and she'd done a lot of useless but better-paying work ferrying rich and dimwitted nobles around the continent.

She also kept bees. Anya was pretty sure beekeeping was her most useful talent, and she refused to hear from anyone who suggested otherwise. Beekeeping taught resilience. It taught guts. It taught ecology. And because of honey's international demand, it taught you a smattering of quite a few distinct languages, including a few Eastern tongues. It was basically the only profession in the world worth a damn.

Beekeeping also tended to get you in at least distant interactions with Thriae, since their bees tended to seek to raid her hives like big old black-and-yellow bears.

And this had taught her that any tavern whose name loosely translated to 'The Honey Drone' was best approached with severe caution.

Her mind raced. Then again, there

was

a Thriae hive nearby here. Anya supposed it wasn't nice to judge; having a nearby hive warped communities in subtle ways.

She stuck her tongue into her cheek and quickly ran over what she could puzzle out as she approached the tavern entrance.

One: Since the village was exactly where Senya had indicated it was, it was a safe bet the Ranch wasn't far-off—if it even existed at all.

Two: Anya had heard that humans and fey tended to get along better in the Wild East, but she couldn't even begin to imagine that translating to cozy relations with Thriae. Thriae were

assholes

. Wasp-waisted wastrels no matter where you were. So she needed to work out what the relations were, and fast, before she ended up with honey shoes and a dozen golden-eyed drones using her as a pool toy.

Three: There was a fucking

gorgeous

young lady leaning against the side of the tavern. Had she... been there a second ago?

Anya stopped in her tracks. She licked her lips, head tilting to the side. "Excuse me?" she called. "Miss?" A moment later, she grimaced, realizing that this woman probably didn't speak Westerm.

But to her surprise, the young woman turned and beamed at her. "Ah! Yes, Madam... Keybearer?"

Anya blinked. "Keybearer?" She stepped out of the light of the tavern window to help her eyes adjust. The pretty young thing leaned back in the shadows, clearly looking her over—but to what end, Anya could only guess. Her long black hair blended in with the background, but her vivid blue eyes immediately caught Anya's attention. Those eyes were

electric

.

Looking into this woman's eyes, Anya, with her short brown hair and dull green eyes, felt positively plain by comparison. She unconsciously glanced at the woman's breasts, since the woman was doing the same to her, and bit her lip. Oh, she would have to be careful with this one. Anya was fairly small, but even so, this stranger definitely put her to shame. Anya was already mentally undressing her when the woman's next words swung her back into reality.

"Oh, you know." The woman laughed. "You open doors in the world, yes? 'Keybearer' is very, um, simple translation."

"Ah. Yes." Anya nodded, smiling politely. "My name's Anya, though."

The woman smiled, lifting a tall mug to her lips. Anya couldn't tell if she was drinking or just smelling, but her eyes half-closed as if in rapture. "Call me Nun."

"Yes, Nun." Anya blinked.'

And blinked again.

She rubbed her eyes with a hand. "W-wait, you're... mm, you're..."

"Yes?" Nun asked sweetly, stepping forward and taking Anya by the arm.

Anya could feel it now—the pins-and-needles sensation at the back of her neck she'd mistaken for ordinary nerves. She struggled weakly against the grip on her arm, but mightily against the enchantment. Nun was incredibly powerful, and the twisting inside her mind was ferocious.

Nun started stroking Anya's arm as she dragged her prey into the shadows with her. Anya whimpered and shook herself, desperately trying to keep the sensation from scattering her will. "What am I, Anya? What am I... doing to you?"

"N-no..." Anya screwed her eyes shut, even as Nun draged her further into the darkness. "You can't do this!"

"Maybe not," Nun cooed, "but I

feel

your magic." Her hand continued the smooth stroking. "Very strong. Your will, too. But you cannot teleport again so soon, I think!" Anya felt her tenderly kissing and suckling at her neck, and heard the wet sounds. "So... tired..."

"Get off, you goddamn..." Anya trembled, giving another weak tug. She felt crunching beneath her shoes, and she realized they were walking into the forest, now, leaving the light of the town behind them. "You

can't

master me!"

"Maybe not," Nun repeated, her voice low and sweet, "but

this

can."

The mug came to Anya's lips. Anya kept her mouth tightly shut, but she smelled it. Oh, she smelled it.

Holstaur milk. Fresh holstaur milk. Her heart was pounding.

"You drink," Nun cooed, "and I will help you on your way, sweet girl!"

Anya's lips were tingling.

"You drink," Nun husked, her voice much closer, "and I let you... unfold for me. I make you—"

And then she felt Nun freeze in place. And there came a voice, very clear, very cool, without a trace of any accent whatsoever.

"Oh, Nun, what the heck are you up to now?"

And then another voice, accented thickly by contrast. "Up to your old tricks, yes, Nun?"

Anya's eyes opened.

Before her and Nun stood a pair of cloaked figures. One had a swishing fox tail behind her; the other had the features of a dark-skinned man, but with striking silver eyes and goat-like pupils.

There was a moment of silence. Anya felt the pressure on her mind slowly relaxing, and she let out a small sigh of relief.

Nun gave a low sigh of her own and lowered the mug. "Well," she said icily, "it

seems

, my sweet Anya, to be your lucky day." She turned to the fox-tailed woman and sketched a slight bow, delivering a rapid greeting in one of the Eastern tongues. She then said, in Western once more, "Hello, Suisshu. Hello, Mier. Let me just... remove some prying ears."

And just as Anya found herself relaxing, she felt Nun squeeze her arm, and Nun's whole mental force flooded her mind. Before she could think to resist, it blossomed, filling her vision with a happy blue fog.

And she knew nothing more for a while.

~~~~

As he made his way through the darkness of a starless night, through a Ranch populated by predatory fey and intoxicating plants, led by a catgirl who had previously tried to brainwash him with drugged wine and who was held in check only by the presence of a belled collar around her neck that had been gently chiming for the last ten minutes, Senya couldn't help but wonder if he was being a little bit reckless.

He really couldn't see much of anything, first off. He was led only by a thin strip of cloth Valina had tied to his wrists, quite helpfully, to help him follow her. This red ribbon reminded him vaguely of a leash.

The catgirl he could only faintly make out, a lithe silhouette against the darkness of very, very early morning. Her ears were flattened. It seemed Valina was in a sour mood. She definitely wasn't paying him any attention—a rare phenomenon these days.

They were passing by the hen harpy coop now. Senya could faintly hear little clucks from within, and his mind jumbled, just slightly, until they were past. He still had yet to meet the hen harpies, but judging by how he always felt from even the slightest hint of their melodic babbling, he had a feeling it would be an experience to remember when he did.

But they kept walking, and soon left the coop behind. Some other time, perhaps.

After some time, Senya noticed a faint orange light off in the distance. He stumbled slightly, and Valina tugged the ribbon impatiently. "Come on, Master," she said, her bell chiming sweetly with her words. But there was no one to hear its warning except her and Senya.

Senya squinted off into the distance at the source of the light. There was a small group of figures out in the fields. The light came from their glowing, flickering eyes, shining with uncommon brilliance on this dark night.

It was the scarecrows. Three scarecrows, gathered around a fourth figure. That figure had something behind her—it took Senya a moment to recognize it as a bushy fox tail. She was tied to a pair of wooden beams in a cross shape. It was like... like some sort of crucifixion. Or like a scarecrow.

The scarecrows around her were holding her head steady, in spite of her weak squirms. They seemed to be...

"What are they doing?" he whispered.

Valina stopped tugging on his ribbon for a moment to look. Her ears flattened and flicked, as if a fly had buzzed by. "Sawdust from the suckersap maple mixed with Thriae honey mixed with nymph juices."

"What?"

"To still the fey's spirit." The catgirl bit her lip. "They're spoonfeeding it to her. Stuffing her. Then they'll tease her all night and day, while she's too docile to even complain. Then they'll make her cum for the whole night after, nonstop." She licked her lips, squirming slightly. "After that, they'll decide if they want to keep her as a prisoner of the Ranch, or just finish her off."

"F-finish her off?" Senya stared at the kitsune intently, though he could barely even make out her outline at this distance.

"Those who attack the Ranch, and the Master, are criminals, you know." The catgirl sniffed, her tone indicating quite a bit of ambivalence—as if she didn't see any great fuss with the idea of attacking Senya with a sword. "I think they'll finish her. Bobbi needs new scarecrows."

Senya blinked. He started at the writhing figure, and saw the glint of the silver spoon they were using to spoonfeed her the concoction. She seemed to be trying to avoid the spoon, but they held her still, and her mouth kept opening.

He felt a tug on the ribbon. "Master," the catgirl said softly, "be a good boy!"

He turned and resumed walking, his thoughts troubled as they approached the Honey Hill.

It took him a moment to realize that was where they were going. That moment was very long, due to his slightly hazy, drowsy state. And then they were at the base.

"Why are we here?" he whispered, staring up the hill. He felt the strangest tugging as he looked up there. It was like... like he was a little leaf boat in a stream, being dragged by the current.

No. Like he was a piece of driftwood in the ocean, being dragged by the tides back to shore. Back home.

"Come on, Master," said Valina cheerfully, tugging him up the hill. He followed in entranced compliance, staring up at the brightly colored clover tree. Everything was getting so... wispy, and it only got worse the closer he got to that tree.

Why was it all so

familiar

? What was this? Where was this?

Had he been here before? More than once?

He heard a distant moan, and his heart quickened. His cock was already swelling, stiffening. His breath was ragged. "Valina," he whispered. "I don't..."

"Come on, Master," the catgirl repeated, tugging harder. But he resisted. He was frozen in place, feeling a stronger tugging—a tugging at his heart he could barely control.

The catgirl paused, then moved closer. He was staring, open-mouthed and wide-eyed, up at the tree. In the deep darkness, he swore he could see rustling. Hear little gasps and cries. Were there... people up there? Or something like people?

"Up the hill, Master," the catgirl mewled in his ear, giving his neck a rough little lap. "Good boy goes up the hill. Good boy

obeys

."

The bell was ringing very loudly. But there was no one to hear it. Certainly not Senya. All he could hear was the pounding of his own heart, the growing static of his pliant mind, and those sweet, distant moans.

He slowly walked up the hill, practically dragged along by the catgirl. They were getting closer and closer to the cottage... and closer and closer to the tree.

Even as he rose, his mind felt like it was sliding down a steep slope, deeper and deeper. He was struggling now. What was he doing here? Why had he obeyed Valina's invitation? Why had he let her... let her tie him up?

This was bad. His mind felt like a melting scoop of ice cream in a cone, slowly sliding out onto pavement. He needed to think. He couldn't think. With every muffled squeal or moan from above, his mind got a little bit weaker, a little bit more confused. He was swaying in place as they drew near the door. His only lifeline was the catgirl's gentle tugging at his bound wrists.

"Stroke, stroke!" sang a voice from above.

Valina stopped in her tracks. Senya felt his heart soar, and unable to help himself, his mind went totally blank as he turned and looked up at the clover tree.

Six beembos lay up there, entwined within each other's arms. Senya didn't know how he knew what they were called, but that was what they were. They had blonde hair—mostly dirty blonde, but one in particular stood out with wavy platinum locks and incredibly plump lips. Their eyes were compound and a brilliant honey gold, and diaphanous wings fluttered behind them.

They all had the posteriors of enormous honeybees, complete with stingers.

They were also covered in oily amber juices. Dripping with them. Five of them lay over the platinum blonde, who was also, he noticed, much more voluptuous than the rest. She was being held up and toyed with, but she didn't seem to be cumming. Just... mewling. Gasping. Her face was ruby-red with exhaustion and need, and she was reaching out her arms for Senya.

"Stroke, stroke!" cooed Ting, one of the dirty blondes, grinning down at him. He gave a nervous smile back. Wait, how did he know her name?

"Wh... wh..." He breathed in deeply, staring up at the queen beembo with a feeling something like rapture. He couldn't look away. "I...

oh

..."

"Stroke, stroke, Master!" hissed a teasing voice in his ear, and he felt Valina's arms wrap around him, felt supple fingers encircle his cock. She started to pump him in agonizingly slow strokes, giggling softly. "Stroke, stroke!"

He stared up at the queen. She stared back at him, whimpering and whining at her mistresses' teasing. Her plump, red lips stuck out in a wonderful pout. Those lips... her kisses...

He had dreamed of those kisses.

"Bezzy missed you," hissed Ting in his other ear, and Senya weakly grasped that she had flown down to his other side. As Valine slowly pumped his member, Ting's fingers lightly stroked the tip, rendering Valina's touches uneven and mind-numbing. "Stroke, stroke."

Senya whimpered, trying to step away from them. But they held him still.

"Master must be a good boy," the catgirl cooed, licking his neck. Again and again, with that perfect rough tongue of hers. "Master must join his beembos!"

"He'll make such a

good

hive king," moaned Ting, kissing his neck from the other side as she played with his cock. "Such a good little

beembo

."

The words filled his mind like a flood of slow-flowing honey. His knees quaked, but they held him steady. He stared up at Bezzy as the beembos grasped her fingers and used her hands to stroke their own pussies. She stared down at him, eyes wide with desire.

Senya needed to join her. It wasn't a want. It was a

need

, every bit as overwhelming as the need to grab onto a rope when falling from a great height. With such overwhelming desire, he started to shamble forward, glassy eyes locked on Bezzy's curvy form.

"Bezzy can't wait until they have

you

," Valina cooed, her bell chiming in time with her hand as she pumped Senya up. The bell was less a warning, now, and more a dreadful knell to announce his slow undoing. Both tittering, she and Ting switched up so they each had a hand pumping his cock. They were both kissing his neck, his cheeks, taking turns kissing him on the lips. "That

nasty

little slut needs her

own

playmate."

"The only thing more played with than the Hive Queen," Ting cooed, squeezing Senya's ass, "is our horny little King." Her breath was hot and heady in his ear. "But you

want

that, don't you? Stroke, stroke."

His knees buckled completely as he tried to take another step. They supported him, carrying him towards the tree.

"Enjoy him, girls," purred the catgirl. She grasped Senya by the chin, eyes gleaming with strange affection, and gave Senya one last kiss.

Senya was caught slightly off-guard as her lips contacted his. It was a surprisingly tender kiss. For a moment, the steady pleasure of hers and Ting's hands melted away, replaced by her tongue slipping into his mouth, a slow, sweet embrace, the soft sound of lips smacking, little sighs shared between them.

She pulled back, beaming, and released him. "Ooh, I wish I could just suck Master one more time..."

"Come up here with us!" sang the beembos above in unison.

"Be our little kitten!" cooed one, as she pressed Bezzy's face against her clit.

"We

always

need new beembos," gasped another, as she rocked back and forth on Bezzy's fingers.

"Sorry. This little kitty's got plans." Valina giggled. "But I knew you'd be able to help! So you'll... finish it? Not just play, yes?"

"Ooh, yeah." Ting's arms slowly wrapped around Senya as Valina pulled away. Senya found himself gripped in another tight embrace, and he melted right into it without even a small protest. "He'll be ours by morning."

The way she said 'ours' felt different, somehow. Different from how the alraune said it. Different even from how Mommy said 'mine'.

Senya, drugged by sheer lust as the beembo edged him with her sticky fingers, realized that this was something else. He stared up into Ting's amused eyes as she circled to his front.