The Edentide Garden Ch 02

Herne lay atop a soft, squishy raft of daisies.

He didn't exactly remember how he'd gotten here. He could hear the roaring ocean all around. His flower raft was sodden, and would likely sink soon. But for now, he was safe.

He tried to roll over and made it onto his side. The water beneath him was bright, shimmering pink. Everything was so warm, he realized. And sweet. He could suddenly barely breathe—the sugary air was toxic, unbreathable.

He couldn't breathe at all.

His eyes widened and he clutched at his throat, gasped for breath. The boat was sinking...

"Oh, dear," whispered an ephemeral voice. Herne looked up and beheld a woman with bright red eyes, flowing golden hair, and angelic pink wings flying above him. She smiled down at him as he gaped up at her in awe. "Are we having a nightmare?"

~~~~

Herne's eyes barely opened for a moment. When they did, he found himself lying on warm ceramic tiles. He sat up and looked around.

He was naked and covered in what felt like treesap. He frowned at the amber liquid. What was it? It felt so... familiar.

A humming reached his ears.

I should probably get up,

he thought. But he did not move. Everything felt so slow and reluctant, like the air itself wanted him to stay down. It was so warm down here. He had so much of the sap on him, he almost felt like he was lying on a cushion.

His mind drifted in and out, always returning to vague consciousness with the continuing humming. It was a girl humming, he realized. Something about that excited him. No, something about the humming excited him.

It was all so familiar. His cock was hard, and some part of him told him to stroke. But no. No. That was wrong.

Wasn't it? For some reason?

Every now and then, he thought he heard words within the humming. But then he would try to concentrate, and he would only hear nonsense again.

It felt like a few minutes, but could have been longer, when he finally mustered up the energy to stand.

Herne found himself in what looked like a kitchen of sorts. It was hot enough that the air he took in felt slightly less efficient, but it wasn't as bad as it had been in the dream, at least. He looked up and found himself looking at a sizzling stovetop.

Above the stove hovered a figure who looked...

very

familia. She was beautiful, with long blonde hair, fluttering pink wings, and a pert, naked ass that swayed with the humming. He felt a sudden surge of affection and lust looking at her, which caught him off-guard.

She was only about eight inches tall.

The pretty fairy fluttered about, humming that infectious tune, manipulating something on the skillet with deft usage of a long spatula she could clearly barely lift.

He tried to speak, to greet her.

All that came out was a gurbled, "

Glarb

."

"Ooh!" The humming stopped as the fairy spun around. He found himself confronted by a pair of bright red eyes and a beaming, earnest smile. "My sweet Knighty!"

Herne blinked. Yes. He was a knight. He looked over his naked form, and felt a faint sense that he should cover up. But when his hand strayed towards his crotch, he heard the fairy giggle... and suddenly his fingers were wrapping around his cock instead.

Instantly, a trickling stream of pleasure shot through him, and he let out a moan. He started slowly squeezing the tip, unable to help himself. It felt so... so...

"Feels good?" cooed the fairy, flying closer. Herne found himself dazzled by her brilliant diaphanous pink wings.

"Yes," he managed, leaning on the table for support. He was masturbating openly, staring straight at her little bouncing breasts. He felt embarrassed, but... at the same time, she seemed so

happy

with him...

Something was wrong about this. He was starting to remember. Something was not right.

"Poor

boy

," the fairy sang, and her wings fluttered again. Herne blinked, feeling a soft, tingling sense of comfort filling his body. "You just touch yourself until Lavvi tells you to stop, okay

"Yes," he moaned, squirming as he pumped his cock. Slowly. Slowly.

"

That's

it.

Niiice

little touches." Her voice trickled over him like sweet molasses. "And you can come when I tell you to. Doesn't that sound nice?"

"Yes," he gasped. It felt so good to touch herself, and look at her, and obey...

But something was wrong. Even as sinful joy spread through him, he knew it was wrong. He struggled to concentrate, faint memories bubbling back. "You... the succubus..." The memories felt so dim. Almost inaccessible.

"Suck you?" Lavvi giggled. "Aww, sweet little Knighty, I wish I could." He gaze took on a smoldering desire as she watched him edging. "I so...

so

wish I could."

"There w-was... how long have I..."

He trailed off, whimpering, as he realized how intently she was staring at his cock. Having such a pretty girl... watch him...

After a moment, though, Lavvi's eyes shot back up to his with a brilliant smile. "Just relax," she soothed.

Her wings started to flutter with even greater irregularity. He felt brilliant strange patterns settling over his eyes, blanketing his mind in confusion. And as uncertainty pushed out conscious thoughts, the pleasure moved in. And so did her voice, echoing and vibrant, dripping with suggestions, reminders, encouragements...

Things he couldn't hear but understood, on some deeper level, in perfect clarity.

Consciously, he just knew her voice was pretty. Just like her. It felt so nice to ogle her, his lips half-parted, and edge to her pretty voice...

She continued to flutter like that, pink lights glimmering around him, and talk, talk about so many things that made no sense to Herne in such a sugary bubblegum-pink voice, talked until his mind was completely immersed in the pleasure of edging obediently.

When she was confident he was mastered, the fairy flew back and seemed to admire her handiwork. She licked her lips with a sly smirk.

"Lavvi," he whimpered, barely conscious of what he was saying, "please, can I—can I—"

"Silly boy," Lavvi cooed, bobbing close to him and sparkling brilliantly, "You're still

dreaming

~"

~~~~

Herne's heart lazily beat back into consciousness. He lay immersed up to his neck in a warm pool of sweet, sticky sap, or honey, or whatever it was. His mouth was full of the delicious ambrosia, and he had to take a moment to remember why.

How silly of him. He smiled faintly and began swallowing. Sleep-drinking again.

"Knighty!" sang a voice that filled him with excitement and, he was embarrassed to admit, lust. Lavvi flew into view, an angelic smile on her pretty heart-shaped face. "Did you sleep well?" she cooed.

"Yes," he slurred, licking his lips. He wasn't sure why his surroundings weren't strange to him. But he looked in Lavvi's eyes and he knew. He knew.

He loved her.

"What got me?" he croaked, memories slowly trickled back. "This must be, what, the second time I've gotten caught? It's all so... blurred..."

Lavvi's smile didn't waver. Her eyes sparkled with crimson light as the sun shone rosy-pink behind her. "Drink up, silly. You have a big day ahead of you."

~ ~ ~ ~

Herne once again found himself in the courtyard garden, though he could only...

vaguely

remember emerging from the flower this time. He was walking through the grass, barefoot, without his gauntlet. Glancing up at the sky, he guessed it was early noon.

Dimly, Herne wondered why his memories of the morning felt so sticky and hard to access, but... well, that just didn't seem important just yet. He needed to reach the Tall Spire.

The knight took note of vaguely familiar landmarks—the pool of water, the many roses—and tried to regain his focus. His scimitar felt heavy in his hands. Everything felt sluggish and warm.

He saw the same doors as before—straight ahead, easy as anything to reach. He looked around. No sign of any enemies. None of the demonic monsters that supposedly kept stopping him.

He was completely drenched in...what was it? Some sort of thick, amber-colored honey-like fluid. He only wished he could remember what it was called. That knowledge felt important, somehow.

Remembering a vague inconvenience from before, Herne reached down to check his scabbard. Sure enough, his knife was almost stuck with the stuff. He tugged at it, but it didn't yield. Annoyed, he took the scabbard off his belt and brought it to eye level.

It was so warm in this garden, he thought. So warm and sticky. And his erection was becoming an apparently permanent fixture. Everything was so sticky.

So warm and sticky and... sweet.

Sweet.

So deliciously, mind-meltingly...

Sir Herne did a double-take and realized he'd started licking the dagger's sheathe. The substance tasted delicious—sweet and slightly spicy, like honey mixed with a dozen unnameable spices.

Strange that I'm doing this,

he thought dreamily, as his cock throbbed happily in its own sticky sheathe.

Or... was it so strange? He continued to lick up the honey. His throat was so dry, and it tasted so good.

Besides, he reasoned numbly, if he licked the scabbard clean, maybe the dagger would come free.

Anyway, it was important to keep his strength up. Lavvi had been very clear about that. It was important to follow Lavvi's guidance. She was his only ally in this hideous place. He was lucky he had her. Lucky he had someone so kind, and warm, and sweet. Someone who would always be with him.

It didn't feel like he'd spent very long cleaning the knife, but after what felt like a few seconds, he realized he'd started licking up his arm.

Whoops,

he thought, chuckling.

Focus, Herne. Lavvi wouldn't want you to lose focus. Need to get to the Tall Spire.

That thought grounded him. Yes, it wouldn't do to dally. He had to get as close as possible to—he had to get to the Tall Spire.

Herne paused, then tried the dagger. It slipped free. There was more of the honey-like stuff inside, but Herne managed to stop himself. His throat was still a little dry, but he would just have to content himself with licking off the rest on his shoulder as he sheathed the knife again and reattached it to his belt.

As he made his way forward, he took notice the lamb's ear bushes. They were actually quite large—almost the size of horses.

What caught his eye, though, was the bit of gold glinting in the evening light on one of them.

... is it already evening?

The thought was distant and quiet as he reached down and, with a bare hand, stroked one of the incredibly soft leaves. It was like running his hand over the finest of fabrics.

As he leaned in closer, he could swear he heard a faint moaning. He blinked blearily. What a... strange plant.

He reached over with his other hand, sheathing the dagger, and touched the amber fluid on one of the leaves. He brought it up to his mouth and tasted it.

The delicious sweetness tingled on his tongue and flooded his mind with warm sunbeams. He blinked, staring at the bush in confusion.

How had Lavvi's ambrosia gotten on this plant?

He glanced up at the doors. Some sense in his gut was telling him to hurry on. He stroked the leaf with one hand as he pondered this.

Before he knew it, his hand was running up and down a stem and he was rubbing the leaves between his fingers. They were so soft and velvety, and something about it was just... incredibly calming.

Why had he been in such a hurry, again?

Herne decided to take a moment to think. But thinking was hard. His thoughts stuck to each other, oozed slowly through his sluggish mind. Without even thinking about it, he was already settling down into the plant.

It was a cozy place to sit, was all. Cozy. Comfy.

There was a strange sense of deja vu hanging over this sensation, he realized. He'd felt this softness before. But where? And when?

He grasped one of the sap-covered sprigs. The leaves were all around him, now, cushioning him with incredible softness. He gave the sprig a gentle lick, tasting the sap on it. Goodness, what a mess. Without consciously considering it, Herne started cleaning the leaves off. It just felt like the thing to do. While he thought about this weird feeling, of course.

Although... come to think of it, what

had

he been thinking about? He frowned. Something to do with getting up. He tried to focus on that thought, but each time he licked, the taste flooded his mind and distracted him.

It was so sweet. So tingly on his tongue.

He squirmed. Fuck, he was...

so

horny. And it was so hot, and humid, and sticky. He scowled at his codpiece. And long as his cock was contained within the cramped prison, it was going to stay hard. He couldn't help it, with his cock trapped inside with all that sticky-sweet ambrosia.

He took in a deep breath and felt his head spin. For a moment, he almost felt like he was above everything. Soaring. Falling. He felt almost...

drunk

.

As this realization sank in, it made him nervous. He stopped licking immediately. The Tall Spire. He had to get to the Tall Spire, to do... something. Lavvi had told him to.

But... she'd also told him not to overexert himself...

Herne decided it was time to get up. He'd be able to make sense of all of this when he was standing, and not lying back in such a soft, dangerously comfortable bed.

Even thinking about it as a bed made it harder, though.

A bed. His eyelids fluttered. Thinking of it as a bed made it... so much easier to lie back and relax. To relax in the soft, silky embrace of the flowers, let his worries go. So much easier to let his mind go soft, to just let it all dissolve into fuzzy pink mist.

It felt like it took all his might just to get off his back, just to stagger to his feet. The second he was up, Herne felt a little better. A little bit clearer. But... he also felt a little short of breath, didn't he?

Just a little.

Of course he did, he reasoned. He wasn't breathing in deep enough. Nodding drowsily at this logic, Herne took in another deep breath to steady himself.

The air was so sweet. So comforting.

The air was sweet, and warm, and soft. Sugary-pink and heavy and thick, filling him up with nice, fluffy sweetness.

It was like breathing in clouds. Herne inhaled, exhaled, and then breathed in deep again. Thick, sugary cotton candy clouds.

He could feel his head getting so nice and

fuzzy

, but the air just smelled so nice. And it felt so nice to just relax and breathe in deeper and... deeper... and

deeper

...

His knees wobbled as he breathed in deeper still, a dreamy smile spreading across his face. And again.

What was I doing, again?

Again. Again.

In and out. In and out. Deeper. And deeper. And deeper, and deeper... deeper, deeper down...

Without even realizing he was doing it, Herne felt himself sinking back down into the plant's soft embrace. Faint memories were flashing through his head, but they were like white noise now. A new sound was filling his ears, and it was a lot easier to listen to. It sounded sort of like whispering. Breathy, moaning whispers.

Good boy,

cooed a sweet, delicate lacy voice in his ears, sending delightful little tingles down his whole body.

Just

relax

... such a good boy...

The plants were wrapping around him now, like blankets tucking him into a bed of pure fuzzy softness. He squirmed faintly, frowning. Oh. This... this wasn't a good idea. He breathed in deep. He needed to... needed to...

Herne vaguely understood this was not good. Something about it felt wrong. Something about it bothered him.

But something else much more pressing had begun to bother him.

His cock.

He gave a little gasp as he felt his cock twitch, helplessly caught in its warm, sticky-sweet prison. Oh, gods, why was this turning him on so much? Why was it so hard to resist?

I need to free myself,

he thought desperately. But his hands fumbled between two potential meanings.

Why was it so easy to give in?

"Just relax,"

moaned a feminine voice in his ear, making his head tingle with fuzzy pleasure.

"Be a good boy for me..."

"B-But..." Herne shifted uneasily.

He felt fingers gliding over his hips. "

Don't worry about a thing,

" the voice cooed. "

Just let me handle it

~"

The touches at his hip made him flush with embarrassment-and with deep need. The voice, though... the voice was something else. Herne shivered as the delectable tingles sank into him, crawled down his spine like the most delicate of touches. The words seemed to echo in his mind, and his squirming grew weaker.

Herne found his eyes half-closing. A lazy smile drifted onto his face. Yes. Let her handle it. He felt something fumbling with his leather straps, and then he found that his member was not quite so constrained anymore.

He felt his cock spring up into the open air, and for a moment, it was cold. This made him whine and try to look up, only for soft, velvety touches to ease his head back down.

"

Awww,

" cooed the feathery voice, "

you mustn't worry, sweetie. Just let me handle...

everything

~"

Everything was so soft. He felt his smile widening as various pieces of armor were pulled away from him. Unspeakably soft hands were running over his body, caressing him, stroking him into warm, soft complacency. Compliance.

Everything was so cozy and warm. So nice to submit to. He pliantly allowed the hands to undress him, tend to him, savoring the tingles crawling up and down his spine at every little whisper, every little sigh.

It only felt like a few seconds to remember that there...

might

be something concerning about this.

His eyes drifted open. He hadn't even realized they'd been shut. Had he... fallen asleep?

He found himself staring out at a warm, hazy world of pinks and violets. Slowly, he blinked, worries registering sluggish in his brain.

Was it already sunset?

Only a moment after he noticed that did he pause to register the woman lying on top of him.

Her skin was a pale shade of gray-green, though her plump, kissable lips and heavy, drooping eyelids were much darker. Her breasts were full and round and so, so soft, cushioned against him his bare chest. Her black hair was done up in several bunches, kept just at shoulder-length.

"Wh..." He squirmed weakly, tongue fumbling over the syllables. "Whuh..."

She smiled at him. Her lips were so pretty. So generous and indulgent. "The others will be here soon," she said, in that breathy voice that made his head swim. She leaned closer, and he found himself breathing in her sweet, dizzying perfume.

Why was everything so sweet? His thoughts fuzzily sifted this question, along with so many others. How had he gotten here? How had it gotten so late? And...

"Others?" he tried to ask, but it came out more as "ummers".

She giggled, reaching up to caress his cheek with one hand. Her skin was indescribably soft, and just the small stroke felt strangely pleasurable to Herne. "Sleep again," she cooed. "Sleep now, sweet boy."

"But—what—" Herne trembled against her touch. "N-No, I have... I have to..." He tried to wriggle free from the silky plant's clutches, to rise against her weight on his chest...

"Sleep now, sweet boy," she purred, pushing him down with a fingertip. Her finger stroked along his bare chest, and he shivered with delight. "We will take care of you. You are ours~"

"Nnng..." Herne tried to fight, but she started whispering again, strange staticky moans that made his whole body tingle pleasantly. He felt himself sinking back down into slumber, and deep down, he knew what a bad idea it was to let her send him back into sleep like this. But he already felt so weak. Like he was already dreaming.

And the more he tried to concentrate on the need to awaken, on the danger all around him, the more intense her breathtaking tingles became.