Monster Breeder

114. Charlatan Forest, Part 9 (R-18)

Jonny takes Serra (the grape-pigtailed, papaya-cocked Fruit Nymph) off a grateful Dire Wolf’s paws and the two of them have their hands all over each other’s dicks by the time we get to the Nursery. He’s managed to jerk her off four times in transit without blowing his load and managed to learn her name and a few other details in those brief windows of mental clarity. Reportedly, her papaya ‘juice’ tastes awesome.

Brenda uses her Stone Ooze inexhaustible strength to hold Marcy (the strawberry breasted, banana-dicked Fruit Nymph) over her shoulder while we walk. In a shocking turn of events, that happens to leave said banana cock in prime position to be inserted into her green slime nipple and fuck her gorgeously buxom stone breast. I… did not know Brenda could do that. Neither did Jonny, it seems, as the both of us look on with evident envy as the Stone Ooze has repeated nipplegasms and Marcy pumps her chest full of banana juice.

Sober-Marcy is understandably confused to find herself humping her sister and fucking said sister’s boob when she comes-to. Thankfully, that confusion becomes consent and enjoyment even between the bouts of lust-haze as Brenda gradually helps Marcy come to terms with the girl’s new condition. The Stone Ooze offers her sister open acceptance and affection when poor Marcy’s self-opinion could easily have slipped into disgust and body-horror.

It’s, ‘Hey, great news! You get to fuck beautiful people all day in a sexy body that never gets tired while being surrounded by a family who loves and cares about you!’

Instead of, ‘Sorry to break it to you, but you’ve got chronic fuck disease. Your body has transformed into a fruit-meat monstrosity in perpetual rape-zombie mode, and you’ll only feel like yourself for an hour a day at best.’

Framing makes a big difference, and so does getting them out of the Elder’s abuse-prone system. (That is to say, while some like the bunny girl will eagerly fuck the Fruit Nymphs, the Fruit Nymphs are likely to rape prisoners in their lust-haze without being able to control themselves and with no one responsible around to steer them toward consenting partners).

From what I’ve heard from Drosera and the prisoners as we travel, Fruit Nymphs biologically can’t masturbate to completion, and abstinence makes the lust-haze worse. They get so pent up after a few hours of denial they leak a constant stream of cum everywhere they go and lose the ability to even speak coherently until their next orgasm.

Altogether, the Fruit Nymphs are in a terribly sad situation. Their lusts are insatiable, their minds active for rarely more than five minutes at a time during their refractory periods, but they otherwise retain their mental faculties and can remember what they’ve done with some concentration—with the notable exception of a mental block around the unholy ritual that sacrificed their partners to create them. Ultimately, the best solution I can think of is to give them consenting partners who make them orgasm as often as possible to keep them sated and give them as much rational mental time as possible.

The side benefit, rather a major benefit that solves my big problem in a (relatively) ethical manner, is that they produce fruit whenever someone cums inside them. Drosera offhandedly mentioned that fact while bravely taking a fifth load from Nicole’s (the raspberry-haired, cantaloupe boobed Fruit Nymph) eggplant cock.

He’s mounted himself prone on the front leaf of the Sundew carriage while Nicole screws his plump ass over and over. As hot as watching her fuck Drosera’s brains out is, it breaks my heart when her mind clears enough to ask what’s going on and what happened to her Mandragora partner. Even after however long it's been since her transformation, nobody has told her anything.

That’s when we arrive.

Unlike the Prisoner Pen, the Nursery clearing is bordered by Busty Willows. Inside are two dozen human children ranging from one year old to eighteen. Playing alongside them are a similar number and age-range of green-skinned Mandragoras. All wear flower gowns covering their modesty.

I feel Gale and Megan’s absence along with the staggering number of people in need of rescue as twin gut punches.

Where are my girls???

“God Beast damn it. Drosera, we’re going to need more Sundew carriages.” He nods. Far in the back of the Nursery, I see a Pitcher Treefolk with her bulky Pitcher body cast aside while she lays with a man, her belly heavily pregnant. Looking around, I confirm the Busty Willows are all gravid with child. “Double God Beast damn it.”

Overseeing everything is a single Flower Dryad. Her skin is such a dark shade of green it’s almost black; she has white flowers in her green hair and a knee-length skirt seemingly woven of flowers. She has a nice pair of breasts, nipples hidden by her rose ley garland, with a great valley of cleavage, and hips for days. She’s also visibly pregnant.

My eyes land on the vulnerable Pitcher body separated by several feet from its gravid humanoid half and know I’m not about to make any friends here.

The wings on my back buzz, easily lifting my Lightweight frame into the air. Keeping steady on my maiden voyage is a struggle, but I don’t need to draw a straight line in the air as I ascend to get a clear sight on my targets. Air Blades ripple from my fingers as I aim almost straight down, cleaving the bell-like body to pieces without further casualties before the fornicating pregnant Pitcher-woman notices I’m here—leaving her stranded without a war-form like Drosera when we met—while sparing her life and that of her unborn child. The Pitcher-woman is shocked and angry, but can survive without her main body as easily as I've seen vice versa.

The sudden violence scares the children into a screaming panic. As much as I hate this, I had to eliminate the threat the Pitchers posed before she could take anyone hostage. There’s no guarantee she’d be as stupid as the Prison Pen guards in that department.

"What on earth?" The Flower Dryad says as she scrambles to calm the uproar. The Busty Willows also attempt to soothe the situation rather than attack me.

I land by the hissing Pitcher-woman and pull her off the man she's riding. He's in his late fifties with a salt-and-pepper beard. Who knows how long he’s been trapped here as a breeding slave? His eyes go wide as I cast the Treefolk to the ground and bind her with Earth Magic restraints, careful not to harm the unborn infant in her womb.

"Mother Heather, do you know what's been happening to my brothers and sisters as they come of age?" Brenda says as she strides in amongst the children. Looks like she left Marcy with Drosera. Lucky guy.

Both humans and immature Mandragora recognize 'sister Brenda,' asking what happened to her that she looks different now, what's going on, why the four-armed lady hurt the green mommy, and a dozen other questions.

"Brenda? How dare you show your face here after abandoning Poppler at the altar? What are you even asking? And who is this beastly woman bringing violence into our peaceful meadow?"

"Brenda?!?" The old man cries as tears stream down his cheeks to soak his beard. He runs to embrace the Stone Ooze who takes him in her arms. “You’re alive, thank God Beast!”

“Good to see you, dad.” Green Slime tears drip down her statuesque Stone Ooze face.

There’s nothing sexual about the hug they share, though both are naked. The children seem neither surprised nor interested by the casual nudity. Not surprising given the Pitcher was raping their daddy barely a stone’s throw away. I’ll have to take precautions to ensure their young minds aren’t further warped by sights minors shouldn’t be exposed to. Even in my hometown where we’re much more open-minded about sex education for young adults than ancient humanity, outright sex in public is still frown upon.

“Sir, I take it you’re my girlfriend’s father? It’s an honor to meet you. Jonny.” The young man extends a hand, and the old man shakes it gladly. “It’d be an even greater honor to receive your blessing.”

“Douglas. As long as my daughter is happy, I’d bless a Goblin!”

“You two,” I say, pointing at my Orc and Dire Wolf prisoners of war. “Grab the Pitcher-woman and throw her in the new carriage, gently.” They jump to follow my orders.

"Please, allow me," Jonny says while getting between the pregnant Treefolk and my minions. I shrug, the whole point of disarming her was to render her harmless as long as she doesn't leave our sight. I'm also impressed that Jonny is brave enough to stop two much larger and stronger Feral monsters, let alone question my orders. He's no simp.

"Sure."

"Please, miss, don't struggle, you'll harm the baby," he tells the Pitcher-woman as Brenda breaks my earthen restraints for him. The Treefolk girl looks like she's about to make a break for it regardless of consequences, but hesitates when she sees the young man's outstretched hand. "Please." Whether its his pheromones or charisma, the Pitcher-woman reluctantly accepts. 

Jonny scoops her up bridal style and carries the confused monster to the carriage like a princess. As they turn to go, I notice a tiny white flower in the Pitcher-woman's green viney hair above the ear. I've never seen a flower on a Pitcher before...

“Alright, I’ve had just about enough of your rudeness, young miss!” the Flower Dryad says while pointing a finger at me. “Stop this foolishness at once. Think of the children!”

My eye twitches. “I am. They’re being sacrificed to create Hybrid monsters, so I need to take them away from here.” The kids are understandably distressed by my words. Some of the little ones start to cry and the older ones look sick.

“Preposterous! Show us some proof of these ridiculous claims or else begone!”

I grit my teeth and signal my group, “Bring me the Fruit Nymphs.” Ordinarily, the lusty nymphomaniacs wouldn’t be a sight for minors, but these are dire circumstances. “And please cover their naughty bits.”

“Marcy!?!”

“Nicole!?!”

“Serra!?!”

The children, Douglas, and Brenda recognize them immediately. The old man once again tears up and tries to embrace his long-estranged children, but Breda stops him with a hand on his shoulder as they lunge for him with fruity erections tenting their hastily-donned leaf-skirts. Gabby, the Orc, and the Dire Wolf restrain the Nymphs from raping anyone.

“These are obviously vulgar imposters,” the Flower Dryad objects.

I blink in shock as she denies her own eyes. “They’re not in their right minds, yes, but everyone can tell it’s them.”

“Don’t listen to her lies, children! Marcy, Nicole, and Serra are living happily on the other side of the forest with their husbands. Look closely, these fakes barely resemble the real thing! And that’s not Brenda, either—it’s a Mimic Slime! Get away from the children!”

“Mother Heather, do you really believe all that?” Brenda asks with a gloomy cloud behind her Green Slime eyes. “You raised us from birth only to hand us over to that Elder bastard…”

“Don’t speak ill of the Elder, you foul fraud! He protects and shelters us beneath his boughs. My Brenda would never turn against us like this!”

I look into Mother Heather’s eyes and see no deception. Rather, it’s the light of madness in that intense glare. Maybe, in the depths of the Dryad’s mind, she understands what’s being done to the children who come of age and can’t accept it. She prefers a delusion where Mandragora and human couples are ‘sent to live at the farm upstate,’ as the ancient humans once said.

Frankly, her willful ignorance and complicity disgusts me. “We’ve wasted enough time with words. You can come with us willingly or get hogtied and thrown in the wagon.”

I prefer consent to kidnapping, but I’ll do everything I can to prevent another male human child from being born into this horrific ‘Nursery’ to perpetuate the Elder’s unholy rituals—short of executing the pregnant Busty Willows. 

I'll have to return later to round them up because dragging a small grove of trees with us is going to be impossible.

“You’ll take the children over my dead body!” Mother Heather says as her hands glow green and rose plants spring from the ground to entangle my greaves with their thorny stems. “Thorn Whip!” Vines covered with roses and thorns sprout from her wrist to lash at me.

I can imagine this being a difficult, climactic battle if I went this route a few days ago instead of going to the beach. Her spellwork and Vine ability are a bit more dangerous than the Pitcher Treefolk version. However, I’ve long since graduated from the stage where Heather poses a challenge. None of her thorns can pierce my Lizardman Scales and Ogre Toughness, let alone my crab armor.

My gauntlet catches the thorn-whip’s lash and I use the point of contact to yank her toward me with Ogre Strength. I catch her about the waist and throw her over my shoulder. She kicks ineffectually and hammers my back with her fists.

“The Elder will have your head for this!”

I ignore her, careful to avoid harming her pregnant tummy, but her kicks and nails are ineffectual against my crustaceous plate mail.

*Overcame the Flower Dryad – One Forest Mark!*

*Forest Marks – Two*

Mandragora Photosynthesis

Photosynthesis (Sundew, Pitcher, F. Dryad)

Twisted Treefolk Twisted Apple

Twisted Treefolk Roots

Pitcher Treefolk Vines

Sundew Trap Tendrils

Flower Dryad Thorn Whip

Mandragora Plant Growth Magic

Plant Growth Magic (Sundew, Pitcher, F. Dryad)

Twisted Treefolk Bark Skin

Twisted Treefolk Earth Magic

Treefolk Cock (Twisted, Sundew, F. Dryad)

Pitcher Treefolk Stomach Acid

Sundew Trap Sweat

Flower Dryad Fecund Aura

Gabby has something interesting to say after I complain to her about the lackluster additions to my mark tree. “Remember how when Pitchers use their Plant Growth spell it accelerates and controls existing plant life? Drosera and Mother Heather were both able to use their magic to grow plant species that weren’t present. I believe their versions of Plant Growth may be more powerful. Also, you’ve previously described the synergistic power of having sources of the same spell from multiple sources.”

I see what she means. Maybe if I select multiple versions of Plant Growth or Photosynthesis the ability will become stronger? It does seem like the clear choice from my options.

*Selected Mandragora Plant Growth Magic!*

*Selected Flower Dryad Plant Growth Magic!*

Unfortunately, I don’t have time to play around with my new toy. “Everyone, let’s get moving!”

Drosera was able to make another two Sundew carriages while we fucked around. I don’t think he can animate more than that, though. His concentration seems frazzled before getting double-teamed by Fruit Nymphs enters into things. We keep the prisoners (Heather and the Pitcher woman) restrained with Earth Magic cuffs under guard in one wagon, Douglas the old man in another, and the smallfolk (former) prisoners in the third with the pupae. We split the children evenly between the first two carriages because I know I won’t be able to carry out my threats if the kids lash out against the larvae. The monsters in my group form a perimeter around the caravan while Jonny, Brenda, and Drosera ‘handle’ the Fruit Nymphs (we put grass veils on the carriages with children to block the graphic details of said ‘handling’).

The worst part is I have to leave the pregnant Busty Willows behind. They’re too big to kidnap. I bet there are more Fruit Nymphs throughout the forest laying traps for unsuspecting victims too. Maybe I can return to clean up the forest later.

No, the worst part is that we still don’t have Gale and Megan and we’re still heading away from the Elder tree. I’ve got a bad feeling about what’s happened to my wives.

“Alex, you seem overly tense. I realize you shan’t be swayed from this course, but perhaps you worry too much?” Gabby poses.

I bite back a reply about how she’s only saying this because she wants that Elder cock. “Why shouldn’t I be worried? Flou is strong, but she’s at a third her full power. Gale is sweet, but she’s not a fighter. And have you seen Megan? I’ve fought monsters that could eat her in one bite! I have to save them.”

Gabby shrugs. “Or maybe you’re so focused on their ‘girl’ aspects that you’ve forgotten the fact they’re monsters. Didn’t you see the way Gale savaged the Hornets when they threatened her prey—er, wife? And you know what they say, ‘A cornered rat will bite the cat.’”

"I know all that." I sigh. "But they're my girls, Gabby. I worry. And, on top of all that, it sounds like Suka and Dura are trapped in the desert. What if they're in trouble, too? What am I supposed to do?" Maybe this was all a big mistake.

"The plan from this morning was to split up for a reason," Gabby reminds me, "They want to show you what they're capable of. Let them."