Peachblossoms Nectar

Peachblossom wasn't the smartest dryad in the grove--and Hazelseed and Willowbud made sure she knew it. She didn't try to be stupid, but she just couldn't help it. She knew she shouldn't trust humans. She really did. But in the moment, it was so hard to remember, and when she found that wounded human gored half to death by a wild hog, was it really so terrible to heal him and let him go? Surely it couldn't be such a catastrophic mistake that the whole rest of the grove had to shunt her off while they circled to talk about what to do with her.

Peachblossom was sitting on a mosseaten log, dangling her bare feet in the creek, crying tears of sticky nectar. Everything that came out of her was always so sticky and sweet, like the fruit of the peach tree she'd been born from. Sometimes Hazelseed would pin her down so Willowbud could milk her into some desert they were baking. Peachblossom hated how much of a sticky mess it made, and she always tried to run away--but her hips were too wide to run without swaying, and they always caught her.

The worst part by far was how it made Peachblossom feel. They would laugh while she wriggled and writhed, and then Peachblossom would gasp and roll up her eyes in whimpering pleasure as Willowbud skillfully cajoled the sweet milk out of her with a heavy splurt, and Hazelseed would explode with sharp laughter. When they were done with her, they would take their desert and leave Peachblossom trembling and leaking out sticky nectar into the moss.

"...should just sell her off to the humans," Willowbud was saying. Peachblossom stiffled her tears to listen in terror. Willowbud had to be joking. She had to be.

Pineneedle sighed. "You know we can't do that, no matter what she's done. She is one of us, and we can't submit one of our own to that horror. You haven't seen what they do to us, Willowbud. They break us."

Peachblossom heard faint muttering amongst the older dryads in the Grove. Peachblossom, Willowbud, and Hazelseed were the only dryads the grove had sprouted since the humans set their great forest fire sixty winters ago, and there hadn't been a single successful sprouting since Peachblossom's forty winters back. She may have been stupid, but even Peachblossom could see that the grove was fading.

"Anyways, would they even take her?" Hazelseed said.

"Oh they would take her," Pineneedle said.

Peachblossom pinned a hand over her mouth and whined. She thought of running away, just bolting into the thick brush, but where would she go?

"Are you sure she really is one of us?" Willowbud said. "She can't even wildshape, not even into a deer. I could turn into a deer before I'd seen ten winters, and she's seen forty! Maybe she really is a human after all; their women look like us, don't they? If all wrinkled and gray and sagging and dull?"

Oh great mother, what if I am?

Pineneedle laughed, the sound so gentle and loving when it was directed at Willowbud. That laughter pricked with sour distaste whenever it was aimed at Peachblossom instead. "You are showing your youth, darling," Pineneedle scolded indulgently. "She isn't one of them."

"But how can you be sure? If she let one of their hunters go, maybe it's because she wants them to find us. Because she knows she is one of them."

"You've never seen a human woman, but if you do, you would understand that no one could ever mistake one of them for one of us, and especially not Peachblossom. Her hair alone would give her away: no human woman has hair pink as a flowering peach tree."

My hair proves I'm one of them? Peachblossom ran her fingers through her long pink hair, marvelling at the vibrant color that she so regularly despised. Her hair always betrayed her whenever she tried to hide from Willowbud and Hazelseed. It was bright and flowering, the color flaring out to the world to reveal where she was--but if it was also flaring out that she belonged, then wasn't it worth the revealing color?

Oakroot spoke up, her voice steady as roots of iron. "But she could have her hair up and hidden, and you'd still know what she was just from the shape of her. No human has a rear like a peach, and none of their women have breasts like that--Great Mother, you and Hazelseed spend so much time playing with her breasts that you should know none of us even have breasts like that."

"Her breasts are the one good thing about her," Hazelseed said. "At least she tastes good."

"Maybe the humans would just use her for baking, the way we do." Willowbud laughed. "She likes it."

I don't like it! But no matter how hard she protested, Peachblossom still felt her breasts ache and flood with pressure at the thought until her nipples went hard against her thin dress of leaves. Her breasts expanded with nectar until the weight crushing her chest made it a challenge to breathe more than a quick trembling pant.

Peachblossom pinned a hand over her mouth and whined as quietly as she could. She clenched her knees tight together and focused on the cold creek water trickling over her toes.

"We aren't going to sell her to them," Pineneedle said. "They break us, Willowbud. It's brutal. She might be a fool, but, well..." Pineneedle sighed. "She's our fool."

"So what do we do with her?" Willowbud asked. "She endangered the whole grove. That hunter could be gathering up men and coming out here with fire and nets and arrows, all because of her. She knew what the rules were, and she let him go anyways. She can't just get off without a punishment."

"Peachblossom means well," Oakroot said. Oakroot was the only one that ever stood up for her. "She's just too innocent. She is still so young..."

"We have told her, Oakroot, and she isn't innocent--she's just a fool." Pineneedle said. "Willowbud is right. This is far beyond any of her usual foolishness, and she will be punished."

"Can I do it?" Willowbud asked eagerly.

A sigh from Pineneedle. "Maybe, Darling, maybe. Once we decide what it'll be."

Peachblossom started rocking in embarassed panic. They'd never let Willowbud punish her before. There was always someone there to stop Willowbud and Hazelseed if they went too far. But if the rest of the grove was going to stand aside, it could get terrible.

"Is that wise, Pineneedle?" Oakroot said. "You know how they terrorize the poor child."

"She's not a child, Oakroot: she just acts like one," Pineneedle said.

Just before her terror became too much to bear, a speckled fawn burst out of the bushes, then spotted Peachblossom and bolted clumsily over to her. Crying sticky tears as she ran her fingers through its fur, Peachblossom didn't see the straight piece of wood embedded in its side until she touched it and the fawn bleated in pain.

"Oh you poor thing!" Peachblossom whispered. "What happened to you?"

Peachblossom had always been a talented healer, and the animals of the forest always sought her out whenever they were hurt. They loved her, at least. She forcefully dragged her focus away from the increasingly frightening conversation, and focused on the wounded fawn.

When the Grove's conversation as indistinct as the babble of the creek at her feet, Peachblossom drew on the wild roots of the world and worked to ease the wood out. Now she was drawing on the wild-art, Peachblossom could feel the unnatural piece of metal embedded inside the poor fawn--how strange. The metal was so cold to the touch of her power that just grazing it with the threads of her weave numbed her, from her fingers to her elbow.

But even if Peachblossom couldn't touch it with the wild-art, she could weave her power into the fawn's flesh and help it shift to eject the oddly sharp leaf of metal at the end of this bizarre straight stick. The fawn bleated and nervously licked the sticky tears from Peachblossom's face as she tugged the stick free and wove the wound closed.

Then, in the strangest part of the whole strange experience, the fawn immediately turned and bolted away. The animals always stayed with her after she healed them, and they always relaxed as she worked. Even if there was a predator here with them, they knew they would be safe from any forest creatures for as long as they were with her.

But this fawn hadn't calmed down the whole time, and now it was gone. And it hadn't bolted back into the bushes where it had come from; it had bolted away. Like it was running from something.

Frowning, Peachblossom looked down at the bloody stick she'd just pulled out of its side.

It was straight. Straighter than any stick she'd ever seen. And it was long. Two and a half feet, making it fully half as tall as she was. Blood dripped from the odd iron leaf sprouting at one end, splashing against the cold trickling water of the creek. Peachblossom watched the droplet smear out as it passed over her pale toes.

That was a lot of blood. How had the fawn embedded this so deeply in itself?

And what plant was this stick even from? Peachblossom hadn't ever seen a stick like this. It had feathers on one side, like a bird. She turned it over, inspecting running her fingers over it. Goose feathers. But they hadn't been plucked from a goose in the wild, she could feel that in an instant--and it was so horrible that Peachblossom dropped the alien stick with a yelp the second she brushed her fingers across the feathers.

"...not like she doesn't like it, though," Willowbud was saying. "I'm sure she'd make a good human's farm slave. Look, we'll show you!"

An exasperated sigh from Pineneedle. "We've seen it before. Willowbud, sit down--oh, Great Mother, fine. But where even is the fool?"

Peachblossom couldn't focus on what they were saying. All she could do was stare down in horror at the stick.

These feathers had never known freedom. They were the feathers of a clipped slave. A slave who had never flown. Not once its whole life.

"Oh Great Mother, who would do something so terrible?" The roots of her mind snapped at the horror, and Peachblossom wept down at the awful stick as the trickling creek washed the blood away.

Only it wasn't a stick.

Peachblossom couldn't breathe. The moment she made the connection to the stories of her youth, the fear choked her. The stories of what men were truly like. The nightmare tales of hunters, stalking through the forest.

Hunters, and their arrows.

Peachblossom scrambled to her feet, planning to bolt back to the grove in raw terror and warn them, whether they'd sent her away or not. But her breasts had gone so heavy with creamy nectar that she unbalanced and stumbled panting to her hands and knees in the trickling water.

And there, staring down at the water as her sticky tears dripped from her nose and dissolved out into the trickling creek, Peachblossom realized that she was being stupid again.

If that man she'd healed really was a hunter like they said, then of course he'd hurt some animals before she found him. He must have shot that fawn two days ago. This was what they were talking about; they already knew. It must be why they were so angry with her.

Peachblossom heaved herself back and gingerly sat on her ankles, letting the crisp creek wash over her bubble over her calves as she tried to cool herself down. Her breasts settled against her chest and pushed the wind out of her. She set herself back to making do with nothing but tiny pants.

Only did that make sense? Could a fawn live for two days with a stick like that--an arrow--lodged in its side?

So maybe the hunter shot it after Peachblossom had healed him. Oh Great Mother, that meant it was her fault, didn't it? That meant she had almost killed that poor--

Without any warning, Peachblossom's head was shoved forward into the creek. She squealed out breath under the trickling water. Her cheek pushed against a smooth river stone. She felt a pair of familiar hands snatch her flailing hands and pin them against the small of her back. Someone was laughing. Hazelseed. Firm and strong, Hazelseed was able to pin Peachblossom down choking in the water with hardly any effort.

Then, a soft, feminine hand tore apart her dress of leaves. Willowbud, her fingers graceful and quick. Peachblossom squealed into the water and tried to push to get free, but she was bent over her knees and didn't have any leverage.

Hazelseed wrenched her up out of the water, giving Peachblossom a spluttering breath.

The whole Grove was there. Watching. Peachblossom averted her eyes, whining, and shivered when she felt Willowbud's hand massage her throbbing right breast. Oh Great Mother it was so full it ached.

"See? She loves it. She'd love a life as some human's farm slave," Willowbud said with a laugh.

Another slow rub up Peachblossom's breast. That odd feeling was building, like her nipple wanted to sneeze.

"I don't love it!" Peachblossom protested while her whole body began shivering with it. Her breast began to tingle from within while Willowbud dragged her thumb across her flesh and Hazelseed laughed from where she was pinning her down in place. The sensation was building, like water seeping up from the ground, being steadily coalesced into the tingling prick of intensity that was Peachblossom's throbbing nipple. "I h-hate it!" Peachblossom sobbed. "I hate it, Willow--oh--" and then it was too much, and Peachblossom's eyes rolled up with a whimpering moan as Willowbud teased out the first splurt of creamy nectar into the creek.

The pleasure ached higher with every stroke of Willowbud's soft graceful hand. Peachblossom oozed out nectar in heavy droplets, mouth flooding with it, and drooling and writhing uselessly to get away as the pleasure kept building and building and building until it was so intense it was almost painful. She moaned, high and desperate and mindless. She felt every drop of nectar that oozed through her nipple, and it was too sensative, and growing more so by the second.

"Stop!" Peachblossom squealed. "P-please! W-willowb-bud please--oh--" and then the flow caught, and the creamy nectar flooded out of her in sweet release. Pleasure throbbed from her nipple and sang out down her spine, cracking against her pelvis like a downed tree. She clenched her knees together as tight as she could, and still felt herself splurt out more nectar as her vagina clenched and pulsed and throbbed.

"Please..." Peachblossom whined meaninglessly.

"See? She leaks everywhere." Willowbud said. "She loves it."

Willowbud kept stroking down Peachblossom's breast, emptying her out one throbbing splurt at a time. Peachblossom squealed ecstasy with every splurt.

"They wouldn't keep it to just the milking, Willowbud," Pineneedle said. "You don't know humans. That's not how we are..." Pineneedle trailed off. "What in the Mother's name is that?"

Willowbud let go even though Peachblossom's breasts were far from empty, leaving her just even more bloated than before. Hazelseed let go of Peachblossom's wrists and shoved her forward. Her trembling muscles and her heavy breasts unbalanced her, and Peachblossom tipped forward, landing in the trickling water, erect right nipple leaking nectar in fat drops, sticky tears and drool dripping from her face.

When Peachblossom finally stopped her heaving sobs long enough to look, she saw all of the grove was staring at the arrow.

"Is this an arrow, Peachblossom?" Pineneedle said.

"I-I think so," Peachblossom whined. She rubbed at her tender breast. It was filling so quickly again. She could feel the nectar flowing back in, oozing out of her left breast and trickling into her right. It always felt bizarre, and was astoundingly distracting.

"And you kept it from us?" Oakroot said, as cold as she'd ever said anything.

"But--but you knew!" Peachblossom protested.

There was a long moment of silence as they all stared down at her, sobbing and leaking into the creek.

Oakroot shook her head in clear disgust. "Maybe we should give her to the humans."

No. No no no, not Oakroot. Not Oakroot, please. "What?" Peachblossom whispered through her blubbering sobs. "Please. You c-can't. I thought you knew! I'm sorry! You can't! I--I only just saw it. It came in on a f-fawn while you were t-ta-talking about what to do with me, just now--I didn't keep anything from you, I swear!"

"Hush you stupid seedling!" Pineneedle hissed. "They could still be here, listening to your blubbering and squealing. Great Mother, this idiot made so much noise, anyone could have heard her!"

Everyone went still, but Peachblossom couldn't stop sobbing. She tried. She really, really did. But it was just too much.

"Oh we were listening to the whole thing," someone said. Voice deep, deeper than any Peachblossom had ever heard.

And then, out of the trees, came the men.