Call of the Woods
The Ent was a large creature, dreaded in legends and by any hunter who’d ran into one. They were as old as the forests they lumbered in, but not trees. Though they looked to be made of hewn of wood and covered in bark, they were of flesh and blood. In other words, ageless, fearsome monsters.
Most knew of one hunter, or unfortunate traveler, from towns on the frontier who had been killed by one of the ancient beasts. They lived near the largest trees in the old forests, but would sometimes wander and while it was safest to stay by the roads, but out in the wilds safety was never guaranteed. When the weeds were high, the weather was wet, and the lights dim, the Ent’s would be bolder and explore edges of their territory. It was this time of year I chose to enter the woods.
My mother would not know I was leaving, or what hour I left the comfort of her home. Though the flittering curtains at my open window would likely reveal what I had done. I wasn’t defenseless, there were several spells on my mind as I entered the woods. My steps were quiet, and I prayed to the gods of this land to let me pass with without being disturbed by any of the beasts that roamed this land when the suns fell below the horizon.
Well, that was not entirely true. There was something in this forest that made my heart beat and my legs tremble with a deep, nearly tangible, need.
After hearing large stomps somewhere to my left, I headed that way.
Many were scared of the Ents, and for reasons that would make most people shudder. Some had seen their friends captured by the forest protectors and ripped limb from limb before their parts were strung up in the branches—Ents didn’t eat meat. They’d been seen picking up rogue merchants by their feet before pounding them into the ground until nothing was left but pulp.
Children, because Ents never attacked children, would stumble back into villages if they could live through the rest of the dangers that lived in the woods. There they would be seen crying about how their parents had been taken from them by roots which had wrapped around their ankles and dragged them deeper into the thick undergrowth. Some claimed they’d been grabbed so quickly their faces had been torn off and left to rot in the roots. This was where bloody face mushrooms spawned, or so said the old wise tales.
I had heard these stories, and yet here I was. At the most dangerous time of year, at the most dangerous hour, walking towards the sound of a large beast in the woods. It was late spring and the dark of night, though the way was clear as a full harvest moon hung bright over the tree line.
I was not the daughter of my mother, who raised me. In fact, I was wasn’t sure whose family I’d been born too. But, as it had been retold to me several times throughout my life, my tiny newborn body had been left on the doorstep of the witch’s hut after heavy dangerous footsteps had been heard receding from the door. And I’d been swaddled in a fabric made of woven holly and a basket of fresh bent yew branches.
A strange, magical vestment to find a baby cradled in. And it was only because of it that the witch I now honored decided to keep me. I shiver to wonder what she might have done had I not been so strangely presented to her.
Maybe it was that story which first breed my deep interest in the woods, and my lack of fear when it came to Ents. I felt as if I came from the woods already—or near enough. All my life, I’d been guided by a witch who viewed the woods with reverence and in turn it granted her power. I’d benefited greatly from this influence, and my mother taught me that if you resected the woods the Ents would respect you. As long as respect was held, there was nothing to fear.
This had been proven when we’d stumbled into an Ent while foraging for a few herbs we needed in a potion. It was out of season and early morning, and the sighting had shocked both of us. But the creature only watched us for a while, curiously keeping its distance as we took a few flowers and leaves. I stared at it openly, though my mother urged me to stay focused. I simply couldn’t keep my eyes off its strong body, covered in places with thick bark but in others with the softer inner tree flesh.
It seemed to stare back at me and I wanted to go up to it. Touch it. It let out a low coo, that travelled over the water of the small crick that separated us and bid me closer. My feet began to move, but I was stopped by a hand on my shoulder.
It was my mother, and she looked ecstatic. Quickly telling me that I had been blessed by the forest the day I’d been put at the foot of her door, and again now by the protectors as a woman grown. I nodded but didn’t say much.
What urge that moment had spurred in me weeks ago now, was what I acted on now.
I stopped at an opening in the trees when I saw it. It was the same Ent I’d seen before. I could say visually I knew because of a bunching of branches on its left side or by the patterning of its bark covered skin. But truly I just knew.
It looked up when I stopped, slow and deliberately. It was hard to see its eyes in the dark, but the yellow glow of the moon glinted off them in a way that made my heart skip. It waited a long moment, as did I. We were both unmoving, waiting for the other to spring away as deer do, before it made the first move. It raised one spindly hand and let out another low coo. This time I did not resist the call.
Closer I came to the beast and it regarded me coolly as I did. It did not move or acknowledge me in any way at first. Only beginning to shift when I was just a few steps away. It sat, and then spread its legs open before cooing again.
The hum made me shudder, and my skin felt overly sensitive in the places where it was exposed to the warm near-summer breeze. I hadn’t worn much when I left, just my cloak and a thin nightgown, but suddenly I felt the urge to strip. I needed to be bear, a voice spoke in my mind, so I stripped.
My cloak flittered to the ground with no pomp. And I was quick to raise up my thin nightgown, tossing it to the bushes. Some part of me hopes that I’d be able to find them later, the other part of me doesn’t care if these are my last few moments in this life. I am exactly where I need to be.
The beast seemed satisfied and it shifted deeper into the sizable gathering of boulders it leaned against. Now lower, it was easier for me to survey its body. It looked firm, and I was fascinated by the way it’s chest would rise and fall as it breathed. Its breaths were deep, and made a loud consistent whooshing sound which I found myself matching. It was deeply soothing.
I couldn’t move, besides how I’d begun to shiver with excitement, and the beast did not wait for me to come closer. It picked me up with its thick three fingered hands, and though it had talons that could have shred me to pieces they did not even bite my skin. I loved the feeling of its rough tree flesh skin on mine, I wanted more—I needed it.
And then I was placed on its stomach.
My legs spread to secure my place they, and my bare pussy rubbed against it. I couldn’t help my moan.
My attention had not been on how wet I’d gotten, how needy I felt when I looked upon this monster’s hulking form. But now I could feel myself leaking my fluids on his stomach, making him warmer, softening the tough but pliable wood flesh beneath me. There was no way to stop my hips from bucking when I was against that skin though—I wasn’t sure where this desire had grown in me but I could not resist it. I ground myself into the Ent’s stomach with noises of pleasure tumbling from my lips like I was whining mare.
All I could think was how I wanted to be filled.
The creature seemed all too content to fill me. Cum spewed from it as we both wildly rutted into one another. One body, one mind. My shout of pleasure scares birds from their nests and creates a haunting echo in the forest. As it’s thick, sap-like seed fills me, finally my heart feels at one with the forest.
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