Woodland tales
Warning: Contains adult content! Absolutely not for children! May contain graphic descriptions of sexual actions, and or violence, foul language, please do not read if any these might offend you. It is not my intention or desire to offend anyone. (At least not with my writing)
What is this: I know I'm going to get asked, so I'm answering now. These are a variety of pieces that where meant to be parts of larger finished works which for whatever reason will never be completed, yet I felt had merit and didn't want them lost for the death of their projects. So I compiled them by theme and edited them into shorts.
WOODLAND TALES
By: Rohad
I
DEAR ISTON,
I'm taking the time to write you while out on my wayward travels, it's a great favor to you and extraordinarily generous of me. However, I consider it a solemn duty to see to your education before you head out on your own journeys.
Curios? I'm more wayward then you know. I left Elmthorn nearly two months ago. No matter how much he pleases mom, Druidism is nonsense. I'm writing you from a little town called Karslen in the Clayton valleys. Farmland sprawled along the feet of the mountains. That's right, I've left the woods entirely.
But I spoke of education. My dear boy, let me tell you of my current view: Dairy Cows. I swear, gathered here in great numbers is the curviest form of female to grace the planet. You could pick the prettiest of your school girls back home and I could show you a woman here with tits the size of that girls head, along with most lovely full hips and thighs.
They're not least bit thick either if that's what you're thinking, curves, pleasantly proportion and all in the right spots. And it gets better. As part of their jobs here, Cowgirls from the moment they gain their wonderful chests have been removing their clothes, getting down on all fours, and letting the farmer milk them. This happens at least once a day, and in full view of anyone who might want to watch. Sons have watched their mothers. Brothers have watched their sisters. As a daily routine everyone in school has seen the prettiest girl in the front row strip naked, their teacher too.
The result? Cows are the most un-bashful girls you could ever hope to meet. They're proud of bodies, and enjoy the sexual nature of their work.
Living amid jaded males they find it a great compliment to have visitors lusting after them. There's a wonderful tend here among the teen girls of wearing flower pattern blouses tied around their waists as the barest of skirts and not a thing else. Even the most proper of housewives wouldn't think of wearing a bra. At most she's got a button-down keeping them covered. If she's wearing jeans they're tight. Ask politely and she'll gladly remove it all, then pose any way you might want.
They'll come to you sometimes asking if you'd like a sample of fresh milk.
You need to be polite, perhaps throw in a compliment or to - as their rightfully quite proud of their looks - but its perfectly normal here to ask a girl you've never met if she wouldn't mind bending over something and letting you play beneath whatever she's wearing for a skirt.
You may not believe me Iston, though you will when you get here, but while writing this I asked a young woman, of whom I know only that she's wearing a brass ring in her nose, if she'd spend the night with me.
Her reply: "Sorry, I'm afraid I can't, already made plans for tonight. But I'll be back this way in just a few minutes; clean the table off and you can have me here, real quick."
She alluded to having two more rings somewhere, then winked at me. I don't know where those rings are yet, but I can seem my reflection in this table.
This is truly paradise Iston, and you'll be hearing more from me. By the way, please don't lease don't let mother read these letters; I'd never here the end of it.
PS: Tell everyone to avoid the river for a few days; rumor here is that the wolves are having some sort of celebration, lighting fires, drums, and such. I'd hate to hear someone I know was served for their barbecue.
- Lewis, AKA Kat Kaller
II
A HUNOK HONEYMOON
Bonfires are lit all around the clearing, and it's ungodly hot. The ground shakes from the deep beat of leather drums.
An ancient wolf glares down at her, a monster completely unmoved. He sits on a gruesome throne made from the carcass of a doe deer cut open and hollowed, bent and broken, to serve the Hunok's alpha of alphas. His jaw's clenched, lips pulled back to show only the front fangs, something he has long practiced to be able to do. His fur is silver normally, white from age at the fringes; but tonight he is a dark and sticky red, dipped to his ears in blood. She wonders: will he join them. No, a fine spectacle it might make, but it would be beneath her father to join them.
It's the pack's females, her sisters' chief among them, who hold her down.
The old wolf looks up at the moon, his eyes rolling back. The drums pause and all is quite for a moment. Uwo is condemned by a slight gesture from one paw. Among the Hunok pack, if you were going to try and elope, in the very least, you'd better get across the rivers and be making ground before your father figured it out - and that's if your father wasn't the Alpha.
"THOOM!" All at once, the drums roar, and the rhythm begins again.
Uwo is rolled by the strength of many paws onto her back. Her sisters, Uda and Dala catch her legs in their jaws and she's forced open.
From the shadows of the trees, the males emerge, forming a ring around her, grinning and snickering. Worse among them are the boys, wide eyed cubs, both scared, and terribly excited.
Immediate, primal terror: instinctively she's scrambling to be free, writhing in the dirt, bridging her neck and back. But a whole team's been charged with holding her still. Uda and Dala lie down across her legs, keeping her spread out, and three other bitches, sit down on her chest making it difficult to breathe and putting a short end to her struggle.
A cheerful yipping howl comes from somewhere, and from then on the night's a party.
"Gentlemen, step right up." Dala yells. "Who's first?"
"CUBS FIRST" is the consensus shouted happily back.
A boy, the most nervous looking one of them is pushed out into the center, by several laughing adults.
"Come on honey don't be shy," the females coo.
Uda instructs him: "Put you paws around her waist; now scoot up; there you go."
"GET OFF ME!" Uwo roars, straining to get up again -with no visible effect.
"Shut up." The boy says with surprising confidence, and slaps her in the mound.
"EHHHHHUK!" A sucked in gasp, it catches in her chest and she can't breathe for several beats of drum.
Cheers for the boy, go up all around.
She feels Uda's paw guide him to right spot. She's still choking when he enters her. He's not very big, but his thrusts are anxiously fast and painfully awkward. The night's first rape is quick and jarring. Then another boy takes his place. He slaps her too, as hard as he can, and it becomes a tradition.
Ula yells out at her mate among the other males. "Hey Rodi, gets to be your turn you better not say she's tighter then me! She's my sister you know; we got the same hips"
"Bullshit, your hips are much better dear!" He yells back. Ula flicks her tongue at him and they receive a loud laugh.
The fourth boy manages to tie with her, the first to do so. Finding himself unable to pull out, he panics, and it feels for moment like he's going to rip a part of her out to be free. She snarls and screams while the females tell him: "You're ok; this is normal; ignore her; you must be a big." When he doesn't calm down Dala grabs his head in one paw and kisses him, sticking her tongue down his throat to distract him, and gently rubbing his balls till he can get out.
"Isn't that your bitch kissing that kid, Gatt?" Someone chuckles.
"Yea and that's our son she's kissing; guess I'll have to whip them both when we get home."
Everyone laughs; even her father is grinning.
The adult males take their turns, and they're violent, saying things to the cubs like: "Ill show you how it's done", and "fixing a bad bitch is like killing a piglet, you got to make um squeal."
A blow to her open thighs or ass when accompanies nearly every thrust. Her nipples still sensitively swollen with milk are raked up and down by claws.
Every one of them ties with her; till their filling became a visible bulge in her stomach, and the continuous leaking of it out of her, becomes a joke in crowd, kept going by Ula who occasionally laps a drink from the puddle then gives the crowd her opinion as to its changing flavor. The males then give Ula their opinion on her lapping.
To show up his boy, Gatt Dala's mate makes out with her for nearly half and hour with his knot stuck.
It went on through the night. There was a second round, and a third for whoever wanted it. Horny boys rape her over and over again, learning better brutality from their parent's example.
The bonfires seem to flicker on and off. The drums and jeers seem to merge into one deafening pulse, emanating from the center of her head. Raw is everything: her body's on fire inside and out. At some point she starts having nauseating shaking fits, they were certainly not orgasms, but were interpreted as such, and became a new topic for the insults.
Silhouettes in the firelight, a couple is dancing to the beat of the drums, drunk on the taboo energy of the moment. The male jumps and seems in the hang in air forever; the female pretends to faint and falls on her back.
Someone howls.
One, of younger girls helping to hold her down, flirts with a male taking his turn, swaying her shoulders, and dipping her head to the drum beat.
"I think I know your brother," the male is saying.
The girl replies: "I can suckle three walnuts without choking!"
He looks stunned "Wow."
The sun is starting to rise: a red-orange sliver in the east, revealing the depths of the forest brightening from infinite black. The fires are no longer needed. The assaults slow, whole minutes pass between attacks, and the laughter starts to sound weary.
Uwo hears her father's voice.
"She won't last much longer. Kill her now, while death still means something to her."
"She's fine," replies one of her sisters, which one she couldn't tell. "Go get me a stick out of the fire and I'll get her up."
"She's in ruins now." This sounded like Rodi "All torn open, you'd get a tighter fuck from a crawfish hole."
"So we'll flip her over, nothing wrong with that ass."
"I'm not putting my dick in there."
"Fist her; see if you can get her to make that sound again. Who thinks they can get two paws in all the way to the elbow?" This was definitely Ula talking.
"Even the cubs are sick of it; let's just toss her in the fire. We'll get a few more good sounds, before she goes."
Uwo wonders if she's drooling, or bleeding. Her chin and neck felt slick.
Dala snapped: "You pricks are all talk, we'll fuck her death - shit; she's still breathing. It's our turn dad! We'll show these little boys how to deal with a whore!"
"You and you take our spots!" was ordered and bodies shuffled places. "Someone find a crab-apple or something; I don't want to get bit."
Uwo was pleased, on some level, that they still thought she needed to be held down; she'd lost the ability to flee hours ago. Even if it ended now she doubted she'd ever walk again.
Ula slaps in her the muzzle. "Wake up!"
A hard object is being shoved between her jaws, the taste and smell of piss fills her mouth and burns her sinuses
"Get my son over here," Dala says. "I want him to see this. He'll never look at my ass the same way again."
"Sister on sister...on sister." Ula's smile down at her was sinister.
"Sexual fratricide," Dala hisses. "Any of you ever see a bitch drown on dry land."
III
BIRDBATH
To the forest spring is ecstasy: an entire season of rain soaked adhesive heat. Mates lock the doors to their den, and in general a fine time is had by all. And this year in the forest it was a practically tacky, moist spring. Three does and buck were missing. The other does had been left to gossip bitterly in the fields. Bear had told Salmon he was going north to meet someone. And no one had seen Fox or Vixen in three days.
But this is the story of Blue Bird, who was really Mr. Bluebird properly speaking. Blue Bird suffered from the poor combination of having lots of energy and very little brains. Because of this and a few other reasons, Mrs. Blue Bird had thrown him out of his own nest. So with nothing else to do, Blue Bird decided to visit Wren. Wren had a very nice house. But when he got to Wrens house the door was locked. I wish my nest had a door, Blue Bird thought, knocking, knocking, and knocking...
"GO AWAY!" Yelled Mrs. Wren, sounding very irritated - for Wren was really Mr. Wren proper, and this was his wife speaking.
"Is Wren home," he asked.
"Go awaYyyy - ugh- Blue Bird," She said, "Wren's busy."
"How did you know I was Blue Bird?"
"Ugh! Who else would it be noOW-oh - oh dear!"
"Are you all right?"
"UGHhhh...GET!...And you leave the Robins alone too!"
Very rude, he thought and flew off fro the lake.
He would take her advice though about the Robins. Mrs. Robin was a bitch, pure and simple.
The lake he found deserted, as were the wetlands. He caught some worms for lunch in the fields near man's house, there were still worms at least, and then perched himself in a tall elm to digest his lunch. Unfortunately, Blue Bird forget to check if any one else happened to be resting in this tall elm. Blue bird was stupid remember.
"Blue Birrrrd," came a low voice.
Blue Bird looked around but so no one. "Yeeessss?" he asked, imitating the questioner, not wanting to offend a stranger by showing up their inability to enunciate their words, with his proper speech.
"Blue Birrrrd..."
"What is it?"
Where he'd been alone a second before, the stranger was now right beside him.
"BOB CAT," he shrieked, hoping back. One of his uncles had been eaten by Bob cat, nothing left but a stain and fifteen feathers.
"Barrrrbra cat" She corrected, shaking a claw at him. "Bob killed the Manss dog. I told him not to. Now man wearrrrss him ffor slipperrrrss. No...no...do not trry to rrrrrun Blue Birrrrd; yourrrr neck will ssnap beforrrre yourrrrr clawss leave wood I promisse you."
Blue bird took another step back, and her paw tensed.
"Please, don't eat me!" He began to cry, wings clutched together "I'm sorry you're such a poor speaker."
Barbara cat crouched down to glare at him, and she was frightening. Blue Bird's mother had told him cat's eyes could see three seconds into the future when they wanted them to, and that was how they struck so fast. Right now, he believed it too. Barbara's were a green like he'd never seen before, they shouldn't even have been called green, someone smart needed to come examine them, proclaim them a new color, and appoint it a new name.
"I won't eat you," she said, "iff you make love to me."
Blue bird stared back at her stunned, and terrified for he was now certain that he was about to eaten.
" Madame," he said nervously, "I believe you're a little confused as to the requirements - its not that I'm against the idea understand. I've never thought about a cat that way before, but you seem very nice, and I think your eyes are...neat. What it comes down to is, well you see, while I'm sure you're petite and trim for your species - to me you're gigantic."
"I like featherss." Barbara cat said and her eyes got wide. "Bob and I used to roll in big piles of featherss we would gather in our den, we collected them. Now Bob is slipperrss and I have no one to rroll me."
"That is very sad, but..."
"I watch man now waiting...he has a ffountain were you birrrrds play. They splash in the waterrrr, it rreminds me of Bob, and I think to myself, I really like featherss."
"I'm afraid I don't quite follow you."
She leaned in and licked her lips, her tongue passing within inches of him and he got a long look down her throat, through a gateway guarded by a great many sharp teeth.
"I'll be your ffountain, little birrrrd."
"Well...uhmm...yes, I have a wife you see."
Barbara cat scowled, and when next she spoke her speech was crystal clear, all the slurring and purring gone. She even had a slight city accent like crow did.
"Pick a hole, bird; you're going in it!"
"YES Madame!" He shouted, trembling, and shielding himself with one wing. "Absolutely, ok, to hell with my wife, just direct me to an available orifice not filled with sharp things."
She sprawled out on the branch in front of him; her legs parted and Blue Birds view was almost entirely filled with her sex. The hair around stood up like white grass as high as his beak.
"I can get up very quickly if I need to" She warned.
A short hop and a flutter that made her paws twitch, and Blue Bird was standing atop Barbara Cat's stomach, looking at it.
"Hurry up!" She urged him, kicking at the air with her back paws.
He swallowed hard, clicking his tongue against his beak as he did when he was especially nervous. "Would you have any suggestions?"
"WHAT!?"
Blue bird cringed. "Well you're not at all like my wife, and you see even with a full understanding her anatomy she's never been that found of my attentions. That's why I'm..."
"RRGHHH!" She snarled. "Step inside me with both your feet!"
"But Madame, you realize I have talons." Blue bird held up one of his feet to show her. "Rather small I know, not like hawk's, but still they're sharp."
Barbara Cat's belly moved beneath his feet with a deep sigh, and she rubbed a paw across her eyes. I should have run then, Blue Bird thought too late.
"My claws have never hurt it, and they are very sharp. Bob never hurt me with his claws or his teeth and we did many strange things. Now - you are going to step inside me without any more stupid questions! Nor are you going to acknowledge this order in a stupid fashion calling me Madame as though I were a hundred in five. You are just going to climb in right now!"
He nodded. She glared. And he set about his task.
Blue bird stepped up on the slight rise and fought his way through her tufted up fur, coming out over her sew like an explorer having found some lost...hole in the ground. He took a deep breath and tested her waters with one skinny leg, shaking at the knees in fear.
This isn't so bad, he thought. His one foot having pierced her she was pleasantly warm actually. He moved his other foot, carefully maneuvering it under her leathery fold. Whatever she might have said about claws and her martial relations, he thought, if I scratch something she'll rip me into more pieces then Uncle Gillburtee. They'll have to bury a halve a feather if they even find that. And no one will come to the funeral because my wife is so busy cleaning the whole three inches of our nest, and my friends are all hiding behind their fancy locked doors and such.
Debating this intently to himself, he shifted the wrong way. It was half a fall, half a slip, either way he sunk in, swallowed up to the waist by her greedy channel.
Then the whole passage squeezed him, released, and squeezed him again tight enough to hurt his ribs. Like a geyser the liquids came surging from below him, and in an instant he was soaked in Barbara cat juice.
"That's it." She giggled. "I always was a cheep date."
There was a tremor as Bob cat landed on the branch.
"Did you have a good nap dear?" Barbara cat purred. "Diner will be done in a moment."
-This is fable told by the Hunok tribes. The moral being something about avoiding loose women, or adultery, maybe it was just that stupid thing get eaten. To be honest I fell asleep before it ended.
IV
DEAR ISTON,
I write you from Mokten, river country. It's a pretty place but I don't think I'll be staying long, haven't done real well with the locals.
Take heed boy, for today I bid you warning! Mares, no! Don't do it.
This isn't speculation. It comes from my own unfortunate encounter. Her name was Strawberry lightening - it's true. They all have names like that, and right there I should have been warned off, but no.
First off nine out ten times you'll wont need to avoid a mare. She'll do for you. They're a temperamental breed: prissy snobs on their very best days with a default mentality between bitch and bitch who just kicked me in the head!
What you need to beware of Iston is the mare in season. She's inviting. It's is a pocket of soft, slick, suede. Warmer then any other girl I've been in. At first, I really thought I was going be burned. When she's in heat its literally dripping: juice running down those shapely legs. And she needs it. Understand, the way they're set up they can't reach themselves. So the girl-too-good-for-god two weeks back is now taking any and all suitors, you, me, a low fence post. Consider that the first good reason to avoid Mares. You don't know who or what you're following and if it's a fence post splinters are a very real concern.
Now the real problem, which I encountered a little too late, Mares do not fake it. I know we usually wish girls would stop faking it -how else are we supposed to improve-but you'll come to understand being with a Mare what a favor the other girls were doing you. So say you break down at a flick of those hips, and have a go with Strawberry lighting, Mint whiplash, or Candy hearts, whatever her name is. You're in range of those legs now and you're not leaving with you skull intact until you get her off.
Normal procedures- you'll discover - are not going to cut it. Your fun was your treat, a favor she was doing you, and she didn't feel it one bit. You're competing with a stallion. You could have stuck it up her tail-hole if you want. Our equipment is of no concern to her.
Now what is she expecting in return? She wants impact and penetration, and somehow you're going to give it to her. My paw was sunk to the shoulder in Miss Strawberry lighting. With the other I'm smacking her as hard I can. Her ass was as firm as walnut tree and I'm pretty certain my ring finger's broken now.
After an hour...an hour, she finally came. I bathed in her. Did I mention how strong their lips are - wasn't certain I'd get my arm back. She's screaming bloody murder and I'm looking for an ice-pack, maybe a shower.
Next thing out of princess's mouth: "You're good to go again right!" Notice I didn't phrase that as a question. Think about it you're sure as hell not going to out run her. Then you realize: I'm here until I knock a woman who sleeps standing up, out. You might as well, try her ass if you didn't the first time. Demand a blow job they have very skilled lips. Make her give you your little treats because you're going to be paying for them ten fold, all night, and the next day...
I can still taste Strawberry Lighting. Inhale deeply Iston because this letter is probably scented in Strawberry Lighting.
I implore you: STAY AWAY FROM THE MARES!
- Lewis, AKA Kat Kaller
END
All comments welcome and appreciated.