Monstrous Ranch Ch. 13

My dear brother,

Wow. Jerrod sounds like a peach and a half. Going to work with an ex-pirate, bro? Really? I taught you better than this. Full pirate or bust!

But seriously, you are getting in so over your head, I can tell, and half of me just wants to sit back and watch the railwyrmwreck. But the other half of me is kinda scared shitless for you. So let me just tell you this, sage advice, sis to bro:

Bro.

Bro.

If every single local resident is giving you, the Western dude with the stockman who "doesn't seem to like the natives", the ol' stink-eye, maybe there's something a little bit questionable going on here. Ya think? This does not sound legitimate. Senya, you literally just wrote to me saying "I wonder if Great-Uncle Yvun, who showed up to our parents' funeral with a fucking fey courtesan on each arm, has done something wrong." Think! You're a carpenter, Senya, you should be able to identify, I dunno, rotten wood or sagging foundations or whatever metaphor you like.

Bro.

Just promise me you won't do anything stupid.

~~~~ ~~~~

Senya awoke with a violent start. His eyes shot open.

He was not in his bedroom.

He was, he realized, in the living room. On the couch. Apparently, Bobbin hadn't seen fit to share him with the puppies during her... encounter.

He rubbed his forehead. Fuck. That had not been fully consensual. It had been mind-blowing, and he'd absolutely melted under her, but... but it had, um...

He blinked. What had he woken up to, anyways? A bad dream? His dreams hadn't felt bad, though he never did remember them. He just had a faint memory of... buzzing.

Senya got up from the couch, still a bit dazed. It was still early in the morning, or maybe late in the night. He was still pretty tired, too. He stumbled over to the little coffee table and picked up a big, ripe fruit, taking a large bite and chewing it messily. In fairness, it was hard to chew without making a mess—the fruit was positively bursting with flavorful juice—but Senya found he was having trouble eating tidily anyways even on his own. He was normally better-mannered than this. But every bite he took felt almost reflexively sloppy.

It was almost like he was hoping, subconsciously... someone would show up to clean him off.

No. He grimaced. No! He was just... he was just in a bad headspace and making assumptions. He was tired, after all.

He polished off the delicious fruit and tossed the pit into a wastebasket, making his way towards the dining room. And then he heard it.

Off in the distance, metal struck and screeched against metal.

Senya spun towards the front door, which was, he realized, barred with three wrought-iron bars. Since when did the door even have that many locks? He ran forward, mind racing. Had Bobbin told him anything about his? Was there something he was supposed to do?

A scream followed suit, muffled but unmistakeably female—and unmistakeably behind the door. Senya started sliding the bars across.

He was hearing it more clearly now, now that he was paying attention. There was shouting, alright. Most of it sounded fairly distant and muted, but every now and then something particularly noisy would catch his attention—a shout, a scream, a metallic clang.

He lifted the last bar and threw the door open. As an afterthought he was somewhat impressed with himself for, he kept the last bar and gripped it like a club. Better to be armed, after all.

Outside, it was still dark—the sun had not yet even begun to creep over the horizon. Senya stumbled slightly as he ran down the path. There was almost no light, save the stars, and the nut trees that flanked the path did nothing to enhance the illumination.

But he could see the gate. And he could see the silver fence, ten feet tall. Because they were both glowing.

Brilliantly.

In the long shadows cast by the fence fought Bobbin, and Jerrod, and several scrawny shapes wielding scythes. The scarecrows, he realized. But only... maybe five of them. Where's the rest? There were nineteen on the Ranch, weren't there?

The band fought a much larger force—all humanoids, and all dressed in dark colors. They had what appeared to be very long noses, but as Senya got closer, he realized they were actual beaks, like those of corvids. Masks?

As he drew within a stone's throw of the gate, he stopped short, feeling the ground rumbling beneath his feet. He clutched at a low branch for balance as brilliant rose briars with equally brilliant red blooms burst out of the ground at Bobbin's feet, entangling her legs.

Bobbin let out an infuriated shriek. Senya took a step forward.

"Ooh, I wouldn't do that!"

Senya almost jumped out of his skin. He whirled about, but he couldn't see anyone. From behind, he heard a small explosion, heralded by several male screams.

"Ooh hoo! Up here, boy!" Senya looked up—and suddenly realized that he wasn't alone. A rather small woman with deep brown skin beamed down at him. "Hi there!"

Senya took a step back, heart pounding with sudden alarm. He had never seen this woman before, he was sure. He'd remember those meticulous braids, the strange spiraling pattern they were woven into to give her head an almost conical appearance. She had a cute heart-shaped face, and very, very bright hazel eyes. She was dressed in baggy burlap clothes that seemed just a little too big for her. He was sure he'd never seen her before.

"Who are you?" he demanded, eyes flitting between her and the battle. Bobbin had broken free of the briars and was creating increasingly large blasts of flame. The only trouble was, the fires seemed to evaporate as soon as they crossed past the gate, and the beaked attackers were taking advantage of this to skirt out of her reach whenever she changed her focus. It was like a very deadly game of whackamole.

"Hoo hoo!" The woman giggled. "The name's Coryl, cutie. And I know who you are, of course!" Her eyes flickered, and Senya felt roots surge from the ground and snake around his ankles. "I've seen you! But Bobbin asked me to leave you alone."

Senya struggled, but he only succeeded in falling to his knees. He tried to get up, but too late—roots were already wrapping around one of his wrists, more firmly fastening around his legs to bind him to the dusty earth. "D-did she?" he managed.

"Uh-huh!" She cocked her head, putting a finger to her plump lower lip. "And I'd do anything for Bobbin! But, uh..." Her eyes flickered again, and Senya felt the roots wrapping underneath his arms and legs, fully looping around him. "Boy, she also asked us nutty girls to keep you from getting into trouble by the gate!"

Senya glanced back at the fight, biting his lip. "D-did she."

It wasn't looking good. The attackers were getting bolder—and Bobbin looked tired. The attackers were starting to push further into the Ranch.

"But be very quiet!" Coryl said, suddenly looking very serious. She put her finger to her lips more firmly. "Shh! I wanna have fun without my sisters getting in on it, okay?" Her eyes gleamed with mischief.

Senya smiled back at her. "Okay."

He blinked. He wasn't sure why he'd said that—the word had just popped out. It just seemed... natural. Of course he'd stay quiet. There were a million good reasons for it.

Like how Coryl's face lit up in glee when he promised it. "Yay! What a fun Master! Now, come on up here..."

Senya felt a little jolt and realized he was being lifted into the air, rotated around by the roots to lie as though in a hammock. He came to rest up right next to the branch, dangling a bit uncomfortably. Swiftly, branches took the place of roots, cradling him right in front of Coryl's eager eyes.

"Ooh, gosh," she murmured, eyes gleaming as she beheld his cock—still fairly flaccid, by his standards these days. "You're so... it's been ages since the Master played with us nutty girls." She giggled, batting her eyelashes at him. "But you'll be playing with us a lot more from now on, right?"

"Yeah, of course." Senya gave a weak smile. Of course he'd come back to Coryl. It was silly to even suggest otherwise.

"Great!" Coryl leaned in, taking in a deep breath, smelling his manhood. "Aaaand... up!"

Senya's cock sprang to life in mere seconds. Senya actually groaned as he felt it tingling, blood rushing in, hardening it faster than he'd thought possible. With it came arousal, and buzzing pleasure, and the faint rush of obedience. Coryl squealed in delight at this. "Yay! Such a nice cock!"

"H-how..." Senya stared in wonder at his cock, then at his captor.

"Oh, silly thing." Coryl moved up towards his face, caressing his cheek and smiling down at him. "People have a hard time saying no to me when they're touching me and my oils." She giggled. "I guess I just bring out the honesty in people, don't I? They say what they want to say around me, don't they?"

"Uh... yeah, I guess." He gave a nervous laugh. Coryl was right, obviously, but he was starting to worry that he might be losing control of the situation. "Y-yeah, good point, Coryl."

She clapped her hands excitedly. "Great! So, you want me to touch your dick, right?"

"Right." In spite of his worries, Senya's heart had almost ached with longing from the second she said it. Any part of her, any inch of her perfect, soft skin touching his member...

"And you're gonna tell me exactly how it makes me feel?"

"Oh, of course." Senya was struck with a thought, though, and that thought made him nervous. "But, uh... you're not gonna brainwash me or anything, right? And no mind control?"

"Of course not!" Coryl actually laughed at this. "Hazelnut dryads don't brainwash! We just make people more fun! Get rid of the, uh, shells." Her eyes glittered as she reached out towards his manhood. "Until only the core remains."

"Oh, good!" Senya smiled at her. She smiled back. "I'm glad you aren't going to brainwash me. People always do that."

"Not me!" she cooed, her fingers settling on his manhood, making him buck eagerly in her clutches. "Ooh, you like that, don't you?"

"Y-yes," he gasped.

And then he heard another explosion—this one much closer—and Senya remembered that he sort of already had plans for tonight. He glanced over, heart racing, and saw that Bobbin and Jerrod were fleeing back toward the farmhouse, followed by the scarecrows. He heard Bobbin yell something, but he couldn't make it out from here.

And the masked attackers began to pour into the Ambrosia Ranch.

It was a strange sight, seeing those masked figures racing across the brush—made stranger by how Coryl had begun to pleasure his cock with long, slow strokes. "How's this feel?" she chirped.

"G-good!" Senya said, squirming slightly. He watched as several of the masked figures seemed to stagger upon crossing the threshold of the gate. One of them actually fell to the ground and started retching. Another fell to the ground and did not move at all. Many of them slowed down or clutched their stomachs and heads, but most seemed unaffected. And most of those who were affected did not stop. "Feels... good!"

"And this?" she cooed, rubbing his glans with her thumb.

"Feels nice," he whimpered. The iron bar finally fell from his trembling fingertips, but he barely noticed. "Feels like... feels like pleasure... 's making it h-hard to watch the..."

"Yes," she cooed, apparently not listening, "it feels nice, doesn't it?"

"Yes!"

"I'm so glad you're being so honest with me," she said happily. "Doesn't it feel like admitting it makes it so much more real?"

"Uh-huh..."

She started to stroke faster. "And now? How do you feel now?"

Senya's eyes widened as the blissful touches sped up, stoking his orgasm faster and faster. "Feels like... oh, f-fuck... like I need to... like... can't think..." He was panting, but he struggled to focus himself. "C-Coryl, the..."

"And this?" Coryl whispered, her eyes smoldering with desire. Senya couldn't even see what she was doing. But he felt it—felt the touches somehow become smoother, slicker, felt her fingers running fast over his cock head, building and building and building—

"G-good," he cried. "S-so good! Coryl, Bobbin's in trouble!"

Her attentions didn't slow, but her questions did. He risked a look into her hazel eyes and saw that she was frowning. She let out a little sigh. "Yes. She is, isn't she?"

"N-need to help!" he whimpered, bucking slightly into her hand. "Oh, C-Coryl, feels so—so—can't help myse—"

And then he was cumming, and his mind went green with pleasure. He bucked and thrashed into her hand, heedless of Coryl, heedless of Bobbin, heedless of everything except his own helpless, honest bliss.

As he slowly recovered from the bliss, he realized that Coryl had stopped stroking him. She was biting her lip. She stared at Senya's cock, then over her shoulder towards the battle.

Senya couldn't see what was happening, but the group had already passed him and Coryl and made it to the farmhouse. There was more shouting—hopefully, the other scarecrows had arrived. Would that be enough to turn the tide?

"Ugh," Coryl mumbled. "Okay, but you'll come back later, right?"

He beamed at her. "Of course!" Of course he would. Coryl could make him feel so much better, he was sure, if only he had time to let her fully enjoy him.

Her smile returned, just a little. "Still love me?" she whispered, leaning in to kiss him.

"Always," he said, accepting the kiss. Coryl was so kind and reasonable. "Can you help at all?"

"Hamadryad, cutie." She shrugged as the branches started to lower him down. "No-can-do!"

The branches gradually lay him down on the ground, and he staggered to his feet. His head was still a bit buzzy, but the second the branches stopped touching him, it began to clear. He stooped and picked up the iron bar.

But as he turned to run away towards the battle, a thought occurred to him, and he risked one more glance at the strange hamadryad. "Coryl?

"Yes?" Coryl beamed down at him. "Changed your mind?"

"Y—no!" Senya rubbed his eyes, struggling to fight off the temptation of her oils. "Coryl, did Bobbin tell you to keep me from going near the gate tonight in particular, or did she tell you bef—"

He heard a high-pitched scream, and realized he recognized it.

Seven.

He turned and started running up the path.

~~~~

Seven was a bit... well, a bit tied up when Senya arrived on the battlefield.

The tide of battle seemed to have shifted with the arrival of the other fourteen scarecrows, but it was still a near thing. Jerrod was on the ground, straddled by one of the masked figures. It was hard to tell if he was fighting or... well, on that note, Bobbin was wrestling one of the masked figures. The masked figure rolled on top of Bobbin, and Senya saw several bright bushy red tails flash around her.

Senya's mouth opened slightly in wonder. A kitsune!

But Seven—the scarecrow who had been kindest to him since his arrival—was immersed in long, slimy vines. She was struggling mightily, and for good reason: One vine was wrapped around her throat, choking her, while two others pistoned in and out out of her ass and pussy. Every thrust forced gasps and moans out of her, and with every moan, her struggles slowed, just a fraction.

It was fucking the resistance from her, Senya realized, feeling an empathetic twinge. Her thrashings were getting weaker and weaker, her eyes dimmer and dimmer. She was starting to whimper—not out of alarm, but out of need for more.

And the perpetrator watched through beady mask eyes, one hand thrust beneath its cloak. It was plainly stroking itself.

Senya stared in amazement at the scene. The battle had arrived at the back of the farmhouse—Bobbin's forces had evidently managed to pin the enemy against the sheep enclosure, and the weresheep watched drowsily, looking amazingly disinterested in the scene. The enemy was trapped, and the pitched battle was slowly turning into a rout.

Or, he thought idly, seeing how some of the scarecrows were beginning to 'subdue' their combatants, a rut.

But Seven had been caught behind enemy lines. Nobody was coming to save her.

Senya hesitated. Nobody was looking at him just yet. The crows and scarecrows were largely occupied with one another, and Bobbin and the kitsune seemed to be engaged in some sort of competitive pleasuring. Bobbin, with her fast fingers and remarkably long tongue, appeared to be winning. She rapidly stroked two of the kitsune's tails, and Senya heard a loud moan.

He raised his iron bar and ran headlong into the fray. A crow turned just as he ran past, but its distraction led to a scarecrow swinging beneath its legs and dropping it to the grass. The crow let out a masculine grunt; it never had the chance to get back up before she was upon him.

Senya ran up to the fence behind the masked figure, his heart pounding like a smith's hammer. This close, he could see that she had a slim, willowy build, and judging by her soft moans as she stroked herself, was probably feminine. A vine dryad?

He breathed in, and smelled the rich scented oils coming off the vines. His head momentarily swam.

And he swung the iron bar down.

Hard.

When Senya felt the bar impact the woman's skull, he at first thought for sure he'd broken it. It felt like everything had suddenly gone very quiet. There was nothing else. Nothing except that dull, murderous thud.

The crow let out a little half-moan, half-groan—one finger still stuck in her cunt—and collapsed to the ground.

Seven stared at him a moment, as the vines started to slow down, loosening around her.

"It's the Master!" a woman shouted. Senya had no idea if it was friend or foe.

"Get him!" That was probably a foe. It was echoed by many shouts in the Eastern tongue.

"Get him out of here!"

"How the hell—"

Seven lurched from the vines and grabbed his hand. "It's unsafe for you here, Master," the scarecrow whispered, her chest still heaving from her recent exertion. She leaned in and kissed his cheek. "Thank you."

"I—wait, Sev—"

Seven gave him a little grin.

Then she hurled him over the fence.

Her strength and speed caught Senya completely off-guard. One moment, his feet were on the ground. The next, he was flying through the air, spinning like a maple seed. He barely managed an, "Ah!" before he thudded into the grass within the pen.

Senya took a moment of silence to register what had just happened, a moment to feel the impact of his head striking the grass, a moment to recover and realize he was unharmed. It took him these three minuscule moments to catch up with reality.

And by then, it was far too late for poor Senya.

He felt a fluffy head nuzzle his bare toes. "Master," he heard a woman whisper.

"Ooh..." A pair of gleaming pale green eyes came to meet his, and a smile danced across Angora's lush lips. "Back for more, Master? I thought you might be. You seemed to... enjoy me last time." Her breath was barely a whisper.

Senya rubbed his eyes with one hand as he felt the other being gently taken and guided to pet the soft, wonderfully soft wool of another fleece sprite's firm breasts. "N-no," he mumbled, feeling a familiar exhaustion setting in. "B-ba'le..."

He was too tired to even properly pronounce the word, and he heard giggling all around as the warm bodies started to press into him from all sides. The sounds of the fight seemed to be getting dimmer and dimmer, like he was hearing them from down a wide tunnel.

Angora yawned, leaning in and nuzzling his cheek. His eyelids fluttered. "It's so nice to see you again," she whispered, a happy, drowsy smile on her face.

"I..." Senya's thoughts sort of... derailed, as he felt the softness of a fleece sprite's nubile body pressing against his back. He was practically submerged. Drowned out. He yawned. "I c-can'..."