Rites of the Deepwood

Gregor ran full tilt through the woods, naked as the day he was born, his muscular, sweat-soaked body glistening in the moonlight, his head on a pivot as to make sure he wasn't being followed.

The witch in the tree was telling the truth!

He still could scarcely believe it. Gregor had lived and worked in and around the Deepwood all his life. He knew better than to trust the denizens of the forest, especially when they make promises. Doubly so when those promises involve things of a sexual nature.

But by god, this Grunika had indeed given him everything he had asked for. She had given him his life back! All she has asked in return was that he return to her once he was satisfied she was telling the truth and she would tell him an even greater truth.

Gregor felt anxious in the pit of his stomach regarding what that might mean. As ecstatic as he was it was hard to ignore the feeling of the other shoe about to drop.

Nothing for it, though, but to find out, he thought.

He finally made his way into the clearing where he'd first found the gnarled tree. Now, in the moonlight it almost looked like the shape of a great beast of some sort, frozen in some agonized position. Even from this distance he could make out the moon-white face of the witch within the tree's thick trunk.

She spoke and said, "I see thou hast made ample use of my boon, woodsman. I can smell the heady aroma of lust upon thee."

"Yes, it was incredible! I made love like a young man, but with seemingly endless stamina. Thank you so much!"

"Thy gratitude flatters thee, as does it me. But thou knowest there is a price. In exchange for my fair dealings thou must open thy mind to a greater truth," the witch said, almost sadly.

"As you said. But how is that a price exactly?"

"Thou wilt see," said the witch, and conjured before him an image in the air.

The shimmering screen showed two people, a man and woman who he immediately recognized as his wife, Matilda and her employer, Giancarlo, engaged in rough oral sex.

"Why would you show me something like this?" Gregor demanded angrily.

"Because it is the truth," the witch said plainly.

"...I had heard rumors about Master Giancarlo but never thought my Matilda--"

"Never thought what? That she would do what she must to keep her job and make ends meet? That is what the poor have always done. I show this to thee so thou could know what thine wife hast done for thee, so when I tell you what must be done to right this wrong thou wilt be fully committed," the witch intoned darkly.

Gregor felt ashamed to think for even a moment that his wife has been willingly unfaithful, instead of being exploited by that horrible young lord.

"What must I do?" Gregor asked, "and what is in it for you?"

"For me? Freedom from this wretched wooden womb of course. And for that I require thee... and the seed which bears mine boon." the witch said with a lustful coo.

"But... my wife..."

"If thou lovest thine wife as thou claims, thou wilt make a pact with me and free her from servitude, just as I have freed thee. Thou knowest I deal fairly. T'would not be unfaithful. T'would be an act of love. Any pleasure thou derivest from our union is but a bonus, free from guilt. What say thee? Wilt thou make a pact with Grunika of the Deepwood?" she inquired, extending a hand out from the tiny opening in the tree.

Gregor stood in thought for a pregnant moment and then finally said "Yes, but only for my love's sake," and clasped his hand to hers.

When he did so, he felt an electric energy run through him, as he was thrown to the ground.

In front of him, the earth began to rise up and change shape, eventually settling on an earthy, mossy doppelganger of the witch herself, complete with wooden antlers like those of a young deer.

"With my body still trapped in this hateful cage, I must make do with this proxy. Now relax thyself, and enjoy."

The shapely amalgam of forest things laid down on top of Gregor's prone body, draping itself over him and resting it's soft breasts on his chest. Despite being made of cold earth and moss and leaves and twigs, it was surprisingly warm. Even more so than a human woman in some ways.

Gregor instinctively ran his hands along the construct's back and it was smooth like skin in some places and soft like moss in others, but it was altogether lovely to touch and feel.

Not as lovely and full as my Matilda, but very nice all the same, Gregor thought admiringly.

The amalgam planted warm kisses on his neck and worked it's way down until it reached his nipples which it sucked and bit gently, making them hard. Speaking of hard, his manhood was now once again at full mast once again. The construct made a noise that sounded something between a girlish giggle and a babbling brook as it took his cock in its hand and began to stroke. As it did, Gregor felt a warm liquid secretion.

"Warm sap," Grunika explained as if reading his mind, "a lubricant to make our transaction smooth. Worry not. Unlike normal sap it shan't harden or crust. T'will simply melt away once our deal is done."

Gregor realized the construct's mouth was secreting the sap as well, as the heat lingered and left a trail even as it moved from one nipple to the next.

"Not that this is not pleasurable," Gregor said, but I thought you only needed my seed."

"'Tis more than that. Thou must let the construct satisfy its lust. Thou couldst assist by participating more..." Grunika suggested.

"Um, all right," Gregor said, and stroked the construct's soft, mossy hair as it licked and sucked his muscled chest and ran his hands all up and down its body.

It made that strange, alien giggle again and sat up, straddling him and grinding its warm, sappy slit against his shaft. He took both of its breasts in hand and massaged them, playing with its nipples. As he did so he could feel its breasts heat up, and it began to glow faintly from within.

"Ah, good," Grunika remarked, "The magick begins to take root. Heat, light, pleasure. All just energy in the end. All fuel for my power!"

The amalgam let out another distorted lustful cry as Gregor lifted it up and inserted his ample rod into its warm, soft vagina.

"It feeleth good, doth it not?" Grunika said.

"I admit,* Gregor said between breaths as the amalgam rode his cock, "It is quite lifelike."

"Lifelike indeed, but naught but a spell. Will given form. That said I doth envy it a little. It hath been near on a year since I sealed myself in this prison to chest death. When I am free I must avail myself of the flesh posthaste!"

Gregor was beginning to lose himself to the intoxicating warmth of the constructs insides, its rhythmic, echoing whimpers of pleasure driving him on to fuck it even more vigorously. He recalled back at home with Matilda. He had felt like a wild beast, driven almost mad with lust. Had he not vowed to come back to the witch and report that very night he did not know how he could have torn himself away from Matilda in that moment. Granted, they had fornicated so intensely that she eventually went to sleep after the fourteenth orgasm but he stayed awake, still full of energy, waiting for her to awake so that he might take her again.

He felt his muscles tighten as that beast of lust overtake him once more as he stood up, scooped the construct up in his arms and held her against a nearby tree, face to face and inserted his cock into her tight ass hole.

The amalgam cried out in delirious ecstasy as the heat inside it grew almost too strong for Gregor for Gregor for bear but bear it he did. He buried himself balls deep inside the creature as it reached down and played with itself.

Sweating, and through ragged, husky breaths Gregor said, "You want my seed?"

The amalgam nodded as it moaned.

"Then have it!" He said, and as if on command he filled the construct up with a thick pearly load of cum.

"I... love... you..." it warbled as he finished.

It then immediately began glowing until finally it melted into a hot golden pool of ooze which made its way across the ground and glommed onto Grunika's woody prison, dissolving it like sugar in hot tea.

Gregor tried to put the implication of the thing speaking out of his mind but it was enough to snap him back to reality, his cock actually returning to flaccidity even as it dripped with sap and semen.

Before him stood a radiant figure. Grunika, Witch of the Wilds in her physical prime. Her aging body that she left behind before her "death" was gone, replaced with the taut, nubile form of a woman of 20. Her skin was a pearlescent white, with a hint of lavender and her head, just like the construct before, in addition to her perfectly white hair, was crowned with a pair of small deer like antlers. She tapped them.

"Hm. Those art new. Possibly a consequence of mine union with the forest god. Every body hath its quirks. Besides, they art rather fetching, no?"

"Um, yes," Gregor said, still shaken from what he'd just experienced as much as impressed by her beauty.

"I would offer thee the first chance to deflower this new vessel of mine but thou carryest enough unnecessary guilt as it is," Grunika said with a sort of patronizing affection.

She broke off a branch of what was once the treelike remains of the forest god and held it aloft. A new gnarled staff with which to command nature was in her hands. Her magic awakening again, she spun herself a cloak of leaves to cover her nakedness and did the same for Gregor.

"Go home to thy wife and fuck her raw with mine blessing. I will call for you again. Our work is just beginning."

***

"O spirits of the twisting betwixt, show unto me mine goal. The Eye of the Deepwood, that I might possess it and rule this place with an iron fist," Grunika intoned as she tossed some herbs into her scrying pool.

In the pool appeared the visage of a fair-skinned, silver-haired young elf. Royalty, given his manner of dress, and likely no more than fifty; barely an adult by his people's standards. Around his neck was the prize: a golden pendant inlaid with an oblong emerald in the general shape of an eye. And he just so happened to be passing through the Deepwood later that very week.

This complicated things. The Eye, once possessed, could only be passed to the bearer's true love, and even Grunika's magicks couldn't take that. She could nudge emotions, lust most of all, but genuine love would require a bit more... finesse.

With the head of the woodcutter's guild wrapped around her finger, Grunika would have little trouble inserting Gregor into the Prince's entourage. With a little extra push it should be nothing to get in there herself, get close to the Prince and get what she needed from him.

Unfortunately Gregor would be unwilling to leave his wife for that long, and Grunika knew if she forced the issue he would cooperate sub-optimally. Something must be done about the wife's employer as well...

***