Author's note: I haven't responded to everyone's emails about this series and I apologize; I've read every message though. I'm grateful these little stories are as appreciated as they are so please feel free to email me anytime. Comments, suggestions and even requests are welcome!
--Liam
Tales From The Enchanted Forest - Part 6
Summer drew on for the house at the edge of the Forest; outside its walls, everything green grew into its own fullness. Ponds swelled with spring runoff and warmed in the sun, grasses reached high and turned in the hot breezes like tides of the ocean. The six boys spent their days exploring and playing games and lazing, each to his own manner.
The creatures of that same enchanted place continued their nightly visits, driven by whatever hungers propelled them, and the boys in their pitchless, ensorcelled slumbers continued to feed them. The caretaker of the house was present again this dark eve when the creatures lowered themselves through the windows and took their places beside each of the boys. The feral lad was nearest, and the man stood silent as one of them approached.
Through the warm long days of summer, the feral boy's hair was longer yet, still manicured in its savage style, the wide mohawk spiked some days with honey to make it stand straight, other days allowed to flop over one side like the mane of some beast. Skittery and bouncing on the balls of his feet, he would skirt through the meadows, playing tag with the other boys who would swat him companionably away. He would smile, maybe yip, leap beyond their reach, mineral eyes glinting, bound away, a deer bolting. Only with the deaf boy was he truly approachable, one a shelter perhaps for the other.
Dangling skinny-limbed off the branch of a tree, shirtless and adorned with greased ink stripes across his face or down an arm, he would consent to be painted by the deaf boy, who smiled and blushed at the red-haired oeuvre d'art even when he knew the boy could see him. The feral would turn his face into the sun, the light would catch his strawberry hair and ignite it so that seen from afar he appeared a pale twig against the tossing greens of the tree, hair aflame – a matchstick, lit and fierce. The deaf boy signed a name at him: Firehead.
Here now he slept, all signs of daytime energy quieted but for the rise and fall of his stomach as he breathed. The man watched as the creature lowered itself with the precision of a spider working down a line of web. Motions practiced and repeated on these teens and others before them, the feral's loin covering lifted away, his soft boyhood steadied with sprig-like fingers and drawn inside a dewy proboscis. He inhaled once, deeply, as the fixed mouth tightened around his lengthening penis. Fingertips as delicate as any legged insect cradled the heavy pink sac that drooped between his legs, the downy hair covering each globe glittered in the moonlight. His body gradually tensed, his penis was soon completely stiff, the boy's signature bulbed crown plumped inside. This creature didn't care for patiently milking as the others would before; this was a feeding borne of famishment, ravenous and urgent. The teen slept profoundly and still; inside the creature's tube his penis jumped and steadied. The boy's breaths became shorter, his eyes made to squinch, over his lower belly, his penis tensed like a wire; he burst inside, as they all did. The great proboscis filled with the gouts of release – the creature not slurping the pearlescent fluid away – holding it, savoring it? Who could tell. Through the clot of it that collected and glutted the tube, the last rapid spouts came, the boy sucking breath through his teeth before the end. The succubus gulped and held the penis in its tubular mouth until it had long gone soft.The caretaker's gaze shifted to the corner of the attic and the bed beyond, its occupant and visitor blanketed in shadow. The boy there was fifteen and had lived at the house for two years; lived, but not quite lived. He was often aloof and quiet, an observer of the house and its goings on, a reticent watcher of the boys and their world; attempts to coax him to conversation or play produced feeble results.
His face was open though, with sharp cheeks and freckles that diminished more with each passing season. His brown hair was grown into an unruly thatch, the ends of which curled over his brow and concealed his ears. His eyes were intense and gleaming. Soil-colored counterweights to his withdrawn nature. In sleep, he lay inert and immovable, oblivious seeming to the stimulations visited upon him during feedings. Only by observing the accelerated rise and fall of his belly and the head of his penis as it blushed and swelled inside the feeder could one guess that milkings were to be successful at all. There was never any preamble to orgasm, no preceding quickening of breath or tensing muscles – ejaculation occurred silently, the boy unable to contain himself, his penis pouring milk like water tossed from a bucket. Still, he was sucked and drained like all the boys, every dribble of semen relished.For all the boys, the creatures and their appointments always frenzied something in their bodies even while keeping their sleeping minds still– they sighed and stretched limbs, grunted and flexed stomachs, huffed and scrunched brows. Their consciousness lay plunged in sleep deep as any gorge; their bodies exploded. One or two might squeak during climax – a strangely animal sound, a suggestion of vulnerability and power unleashed. The creatures fed intently, drawing their sustenance from each boy in snowy-colored spits or drizzles.
Across the aisle from the feral boy, the deaf lad huffed. His succubi adjusted its mouth; projected out over the boy's abdomen his penis was a quilled spike, hardened as granite, a pale extension of his body held clenched by both the magical creature and the very human responses a teenage boy has to intense pleasure.
The proboscis tightened, twisted in an undulating corkscrew – the boy panted. The creature tasted the first dribs of pre-cum and knew its meal was near. It arranged muscles in its feeding appendage to prepare. Inside, the penis reddened, the head began to flare. His ballsac drew closer, his orgasm closer yet. The boy's exhalations came punctuated with grunts and mono-syllable chuffs. He was breathing exclusively through his mouth now, his stomach tensing and collapsing. Awake, he was mute; asleep and aroused, he spoke in primitive moans until his climax.
The creature's prehensile feeding tube squeezed and released, sent vibrations and twirls down the shaft then back up, corkscrewing over the head. The deaf boy froze, limbs stretched across bed sheets, his erection flexed and a single long jet of cum fired from the tip in a stream – a weaker flow of cream pushed forth, not far -- the boy grunted, another generous rope, very white, blasted out like a freshly tapped reserve. The boy settled back, released of pressure, his penis leaking into the vacuuming tube.
Across the way, the small mousy teen lay rigid atop his mattress, every thin muscle in his lanky-limbed body coiled – a spring about to fire. The drawn out days of summer had heralded a separate but no less dramatic growth in the boy – his feet were the first to hint at his anticipative height and shortly after, his legs sported an impressive lengthening that by mid-summer had added three inches of tallness to the lad. He was still barely muscled, his chest and stomach were their same pale hardness like bone and what little fat he might have been hiding had been burned up in growing, but he was left less diminutive despite his continued scrawniness. Between his legs, downy patches of dark hair, still fur-like in appearance at his age, crowned a thickening penis and brimming pink sack. His penis still retained its propensity for staggering firmness; even now seeming to the caretaker to be piercing the straw-like mouth of the attendant creature sucking over it. As the deaf boy grunted through his ejaculation, the mousy boy could almost be thought to be choreographing his own orgasm for at nearly the same instant one finished, the other began. The boy's feet turned inward slightly and he inhaled through his lips -- thin spouts of cloudy milk fired into the succubi's mouth, four with a finish of watery dribbles – he was a growing teen this summer and producing more boy's milk along with it.
The stillness of the room where before could only be heard the hushed respirations of boys' slumber had given way to the spirited sounds of young male arousal and stimulation. The creatures shifted to accommodate shuddering erections or spasming bellies, the graceful re-positioning of their limbs rustled like blown leaves in autumn.
The string-bean youth with the raven colored hair still retained his distinction as tallest of the boys although this was likely the last summer he was to do so. His body still looked more boy than man, all gangly legged and sharp boned, feet like jointed flippers and hands whose long knuckled fingers extending like sprigs on a tree. He had taken to sleeping nude beneath his single summer bedsheet and as that gossamer covering had already been peeled away, the boy lay sprawled and displayed in full before man and creature alike.
The succubi had not yet begun preparing the teenager so for several moments, the man could merely observe the lad as he slept. Ribs and wiry muscled clefts gave his sides a cabled look, his stomach was so lean this season as to appear almost concave until one noted the tightly cobbled muscles arranged down the length. His belly button was flush with the rest, merely a dimple. Far below were the curled clips of pubic hair that formed a brow over his genitals; a pale soft penis flopped over peach-fuzz covered balls. In a boy still looking to grow into his body, his sex organs had won that race months ago. While still matching the pale fairness of the rest of him, they appeared to have come from a similar but somehow larger boy altogether.
The creature positioned itself over the boy, its arms straddled the teenager's sides, closely holding its place; its protruding snout grasped the head of the boy's still slack penis in its aperture and worked its way down the shaft until it had swallowed the organ whole. His penis was pulled straight over the abdomen and inside, the powerful business of arousal began. The succubi worked its proboscis like a jellyfish propelling through water – it formed a tunnel of muscled tissue extending the length of the shaft with a ringed bell over the head. Initial activity worked to pull the organ, tugging and holding to coax it ever longer, or stroking it from inside through curious and inscrutable motions. In time, the deeply unconscious boy's penis hardened and swelled, lengthening tremendously til the tip seemed dotted from above by the naval. By opening and closing the bell and tightening the muscled jelly of its protrusive mouth, the succubi could contract and slide its feeder tube over the entirety of the erection, all while the apertured ring remained gripped at the very base of the shaft. The creature's extensible mouth had radial symmetry, allowing stimulation to be focused around the circumference, creating sensations of spinning, twisting, or licking. It was no accident that the sleep-entranced boys reacted as powerfully as they did during these feedings.
And so it was that after several minutes of practiced manipulation, the boy's stomach was heaving even while the rest of him lay clenched; his penis the firmest yet, angled out and above, so stiff that flexes registered only as pulses along the urethal duct. The boy began huffing through his mouth like a long distance runner, his buttocks tightening and releasing, his pelvis slowly rocking. The teenager's balls contracted almost imperceptively. He suddenly locked, breath and body alike, the muscles in his thighs shivering like a tuning fork.
They came as regular and swift as any arrow from a bow, stripes of cream firing like some artery had been cut. Fluttering beneath their eyelids, the caretaker could tell the teen's eyes were rolling. The boy slowly relaxed as the creature gulped down a tube full of cum. Through the sounds of boys panting, the man had missed the blonde boy being milked. He rose and walked over near the bed where two creatures now attended the lad. All of the creatures were unnaturally thin, spindly almost, but the two besetting the blonde teen were leaner still, appearing emaciated. The man did not recall ever seeing the like here before. Already something peculiar had occurred. The boy's breathing was settling; in the moonlight, his torso glistened. Peering closer, the man saw ropes of semen spun out in chalky strings over belly and chest with each creature carefully suctioning the precious fluid from the teen's smooth skin. The boy's slackening erection twitched and a fresh drib of cream appeared at the tip -- one of the succubi gently lapped the head with its feeder and sipped it away. The creatures had induced orgasm outside of their proboscis mouths, made the boy shoot his ejaculation over his body which they then cleaned meticulously, sharing the bounty. When they had finished washing every shimmering trail and spatter of milk from the boy's skin, the creatures rose from their crouches and scanned the room hungrily.
The others had commenced their feeding and were clearly preparing to leave. The boys had been dressed and re-covered in preparation. The starved-looking creatures hesitated, chittered softly to each other, but left with the others. The man retired for the night, swung the attic door shut behind him and returned to his bedchamber. Sometime later in the silent gloom he awoke with a start, recalling that he hadn't retrieved his recompense from the front stoop and making his way toward the door, heard a muffled thump from the floor above – what sounded too like a moan. Curious, he hurried back to the attic.
The boys lay asleep and bewitched, their sheets and loin-coverings removed, two still panting. Attached to the stiffened penis of the deaf boy, one skeletal succubi slurped a final glob of cloudy fluid up its proboscis and into its guzzling maw. Its equally ravenous companion strode from the bedside of the firehaired feral teen and settled next to another naked boy. The two half-starved succubi had returned to complete their feed.
The man did not know what to make of this. It seemed dangerous, some protocol in their arrangement was being broken but the man could not pinpoint precisely what. Once finished with the deaf boy, the creature strode purposely toward the man and carefully, but with a strength which was nonetheless unnerving for all its poise, pushed the caretaker back towards the door. Its intention was clear. The succubi tilted its head and peered at the man with its glossy ink-colored eyes, and slowly closed the door between them. The man stood flummoxed and with considerable unease, retreated to his room for the remainder of the night. He got little sleep, listening instead to the infrequent shuffles, grunts and squeaks issuing from the space above; proof of the creatures' persistence this long night. Nearing sunrise, the man approached the attic again only to be greeted at the door as he approached by one of the creatures. It produced a large bag of coins which it pressed into the man's palm, bowed its head and turned to leave for a second time that night. The man observed clearly the creature's profile in the dim light and the modest distension of the supernatural beast's stomach. In the room beyond, the boys slept disheveled from their trials, some still with moist brows and lank hair falling across their eyes.
The man knew enough to be troubled: the old arrangement ensured that feedings would not perilously deplete the boys; he hoped this would be an aberration, a singular event borne from desperate hunger and not to be repeated. The man could only wait to see if his concerns were unfounded.