Mistress Amber Ch. 03

'Put your--mhm--cute thriae babies in me,' the hornet queen howls, her black-and-yellow striped legs, thick and womanly, twitching and straining up in the air. 'You're so--aah--beautiful, Mistress. You're--ooh--entitled to my body whenever you see fit.'

'Ughn. Good girl, good little whore. This is a real sting, isn't it? Ugh. You're only good for--guh--popping out juveniles!'

Schlick-schlack-schlick. Schlick-schlack-schlick.

Alannah nudges my arm. 'So...they can't actually breed. The way it works, their children are guaranteed to be both vespid and thriae, so nothing happens.' She sighs, and gestures with an elegant finger. 'The thriae have workers, who are exclusively female, and the vespids have drones, who are exclusively shemale. Which is reversed with thriae guardians, and vespid praetors. And that third caste, princesses or nobles, can be female, futanari, or shemale.'

At a glance, there's not a huge amount of difference between the various types. In both species the "lower" caste, workers and drones, are the physically smallest, but worker thriae -- bees, really -- are voluptuous while vespid drones tend to have fat backsides but smaller chests, and quite sizeable cocks. Many are erect, of course, given that haze of sexual deprivation which hangs over the two groups. Insecquine is the word, again. They're black and glossy, with noticeable sheaths. Not quite horse-like, but that descriptor comes to mind, with their almost-flat flared heads. Though the presence of blunt nubs and bumps along the sides of their shafts distorts the image somewhat.

'So...why would you think I could help here?' I say, to the sound of passionate and lurid lovemaking. 'What can I do?'

Alannah sighs sweetly. 'The problem is this, Peter: the Queens are meant to tell everyone else what to do, particularly who to do.' She smiles, caught between faint humour and sympathetic sadness. 'They're such obedient things, but their monarchs are too busy rutting pointlessly. I'm really rather worried.'

As she talks, as the continually sloppy sordidness echoes across the clearing in the background, I notice a small group of dryads approaching. Of the ten, two are centauresses like Alannah, and look very much like her except for one possessing silver hair and the other a reddish bronze. On the back of each is a more mature-looking dryad of the bipedal variety, one tall and muscular in her curvaceousness, the other shorter -- still tall compared to me, admittedly -- but particularly fill-figured. The rest of the gang are of those younger though still plentifully womanly varieties.

'Is this human here to help, mother?' the bronze-haired wild dryad says. Her eyes are the spitting image of Alannah's, autumn gold in pleasant contrast with her flowing hair, which is bedecked by leaves. No antlers on this daughter, though. 'We've tried offering ourselves to both species, but they smell the forest on us, and consider us family.'

The silver-haired daughter rolls her eyes. This one, with her antlers quite similar to Alannah's, is noticeably bulkier, though every bit as feminine. 'Shar, you make it sound so hopeless. I still say, father, that we should take them by force. At least sate the silly thing's appetites until their rulers come to their senses.' Her gaze, vibrant green, narrows as she beholds the ongoing rutting. 'No pussy can be that good, can it?'

'My daughters,' Alannah says, smiling. 'Sharlaya and Vindrelleth.' Shar, the bronze-haired, does a little bow, while Vindrelleth simply nods sternly at me. 'And atop their backs the nectar queens Lamithan and Ashenath, who lead the nymphic dryads which make up most of our number.'

One of whom drops down, flowers springing up in her wake. Shit, she must be like seven-foot high, and...yep, that's a cock. Is that how nectar queens work, then? Though this one doesn't seem to be a futanari. The tall creature, her skin pale green and her body creeping in places with ever-shifting leaves of gold, has electric blue hair and lips, and eyes like silver pools shimmering in moonlight.

The other stays seated, seeming vaguely deferential to the taller, more muscular nectar queen. In fact, when I glance at her, the autumn-haired nymph shies away, avoiding my gaze in favour of staring off into the distance. A weird hierarchy, of sorts?

'If I may, Your Ladyship,' she says, stepping ahead of the two sisters. 'A human may prove useful. If they don't smell the forest on him, he might relieve their needs. Could we use him for such a purpose?'

Use me. Useful. Relieve needs. 'Uh...'

Alannah strokes my arm. 'Peter's not a servant but a guest, Lamithan. I would not offer him on his behalf.' But saying that, she looks at me all the same.

Ah, peer pressure.

'I'm a virgin,' I blurt out, to silence. 'It's not as if I...I want to help but...you're massively overstating my capacities here. How many of the, um, girl ones are there?'

'Any efforts would require complete attention to both tribes,' Lamithan says. 'No half measures. Why would you so cruelly exclude the futanaris and shemales? Are humans so savage?'

'Lami,' Alannah says, softly. 'He's not from our world, and he's inexperienced. He means no ill, and treats me with no revulsion.' She talks with effortless grace, causing the other nectar queen to relax somewhat. 'But you are right, of course. Until such a time as the Queens tire of one another, the needs of their tribes will need attending to, and as they do not treat us dryads as potential mates, we cannot offer them relief.'

'I do sympathise, okay?' I say, turning to both dryads. 'But man, I have a schedule. I need to churn out stories for Lady Lasyrrix or I'll have outlived my use. I didn't imagine I'd be having my first proper sexual experiences in what amounts to a huge orgy, but...I've already played with a black orc's dick and liked it, so it'd be rich for me to deny you my aid.' I sigh, and glance over at the troubled tribes. They are, without exception, incredibly hot. Dicks and all. Jesus Christ though, it'd take a week. Three, maybe. 'I don't have enough time, unless you can fix that.'

The wild nectar queen and the nymphic speaker look at one another for a long moment, and say at once, to that background chorus of schlick-schlack-schlick, 'Could we use the Mirror?'

The Mirror of Echoes is more of a pool of what appears to be liquid silver, swirling as if alive. On the southern side of the clearing is an avenue of trees leading into the core expanse of the dryads, one third of the realm, the other two thirds split between the thriae and vespids with their great hives. The dryad homes, beyond those smaller hollowed-out trunks and treehouses, are here a series of larger and larger ancient oaks, all set around a singular gigantic article. And within the grandest of trees, that which Alannah and her two daughters call home, is a marble-lined pool containing the Mirror.

'It does what?' I say.

'It creates "echoes",' Alannah says, looking all the more jaw-droppingly perfect in the floating lights inside the vast arcane oak. Her daughters, as well, are every bit as resplendent as their mother. Father? 'Step into the pool, and it can create copies. Temporary things, but extensions of your mind. Duplicates. The ordinary use of it is in times of famine or war, when many hands are needed, but it will serve our purpose well. If you're willing, of course.'

'What's the downside?'

'There isn't one as such,' Lamithan says. 'Only that while the Mirror is active, you'll be only dimly aware of your duplicates, but when the effect ends, you'll absorb the sum-total of their memories. In this situation, it might be something of a shock to the system.'

As I stare at her, not so much irked by her ease of saying such a thing, but the fact that I'm in this situation at all -- I know I could deny them, but Alannah has been good to me -- I catch movement in my periphery. The sifting of something golden, and...following that, the fertile sagging of a pair of the most magnificent breasts.

'Woah.'

Alannah smiles, confident as can be. 'I did promise you a boon, sweetheart. If you drink my nectar, you'll be stronger, sturdier, in all ways. Let this be a sign of our trust, going forwards. I am a woman of my word.'

Oh, shit. They're enormous. That same purplish shade as her flesh, each larger than my head, drooping faintly with gravity and their generous voluminousness. Large areolae with faint bumps across them, wide and fairly short nipples which seem to already be glistening. Alannah holds the golden brassiere in each of her beautiful hands, elegantly cupping the sides of her monumental mammaries.

And nobody bats a fucking eye! Nobody cares. Her daughters aren't the least embarrassed by the fact that their mother -- father, as well? I need to ask -- has exposed her heavenly sweater puppies to the world. Nobody. Bats. An. Eye.

But am I really going to do this? Am I really going to get breastfed before duplicating myself to lose my virginity across one hundred different selves, all to -- let's be honest here -- make an actually beneficial alliance in this gloomy fucking place?

Fuck it. Fuck it all.

'I just...drink?'

Alannah nods, smiling sweetly. 'Yes, just nurse on me. One and then the other would be best, to ensure you get plenty. Don't stop until I say so.'

I stare at her eyes, and then at her tits, and then at her face again. 'Okay.'

And still, nobody comments. To the dryads, this is just normal, I guess? Sure, the addition of a human is likely odd, but even so, nobody seems to mind. I just wander over to Alannah and stand up on tiptoes -- given her height, and my relative shortness -- and then just...

...apply my mouth to the matronly nectar queen's beautiful bosom.

'There,' Alannah says, soft as can be. Her voice is as silken as her flesh, every bit as warm and welcoming. 'Good boy. Grow powerful. Let me infuse you.'

What is awkward at first rapidly becomes natural. I lean into her, engulf my face in cushioning breast. Her body is so hot, so fragrant with wilderness and sweet things. The firmness of a nipple, gently captured between my lips, teeth out of the way, at first seems weird. I don't want to make this sexual, don't want to act the sexual adult that I am and instead want to view this as some noble gift, some queen of the forest rewarding me in a peculiar fashion.

But when she says, 'You may touch them, of course. It might be easier to milk me that way,' I completely lose it. My cock is hard in an instant, and I sink my fingers into the delicate deliciousness of her hugely healthy chest.

'Mhm.'

Schlup. Slurp.

As I start to use my tongue, and massage her mouth-captured mammary, I'm rewarded with something that transcends milk. My eyes go wide as a deep sense of satisfaction burns through me, a rich chill that emboldens the soul. Something like warm heavy cream spurts out, laced with fruity flavours and something that the brain considers the personification of nature's bounty.

An energy courses down into my bones, inducing a sense of lightness, of weightlessness. And then Alannah shudders, and groans. 'Good boy,' she says. 'Mummy's good...whoops.'

'Mother!' Sharlaya shouts. 'Father!' Vindrelleth yelps. Both at the same moment.

'I...might take my leave,' Lamithan says, sounding a touch flustered. The quiet nectar queen -- Ashenath? -- blushes brightly, and looks away.

And suddenly I'm aware that while the initial process might have been completely normal -- didn't Alannah mention something about feeding the dryads, after all? -- this part of the act is clearly going off script.

When the others have scampered away, leaving me alone with the wild nectar queen, she begins stroking my hair. 'Sorry for the awkwardness. I've never had--mhm--a human do this. Nor a man half so cute as you are, Peter. Go on, honey. Drink deep of me. Accept me into your body.'

God, what a perversely perfect notion.

My mouth is flooded with Alannah, and then my stomach in turn. Her breastmilk infuses, empowers, enhances. It's like dialling everything up to eleven, making the world pulse with a liveliness it didn't before possess. There's no fullness, despite the quantity of rich cream her beautiful body produces. No sense of discomfort, or growing fat with her deliciousness.

The dryad, the wild nectar queen, slowly strokes my head and shivers, making soft sighs and sweet sounds. 'Very good. Yes. Mhm. Drink up. Grow strong.'

Something else is changing, too. I break her rule, stop before I'm told, and glance down. I was already hard, but...woah.

'Sweetie, I didn't say to stop,' Alannah says, cupping that unattended breast and brushing its sticky nipple against my cheek. 'What's the matter?'

'My dick. It's...it's doubled in size.'

She giggles softly. 'Well, that's a lovely side-effect, isn't it?' The dryad tugs on my hair, urging me back. 'Come on, Peter. We're not done yet. I don't want to leave myself--I mean, yourself, without the full effect.'

'You're getting off on this, aren't you?' I say, glancing up at her. The motherly dryad queen is blushing, though on her violet it comes out bluish. 'Holy shit.'

'I'm so sorry. You trusted me, and I've betrayed that trust.' She sighs deeply, and shakes her head. 'Yes, I'm enjoying this. I don't usually get intimacy of this sort. Amber...well, I shouldn't say.'

'She's mean to you?'

The dryad blushes deeper. 'I really mustn't. But it's not what you think, and let's leave it at that.'

I've already accepted that I barely understand this place, but I'm starting to realise that I barely understand Amber and her harem, as well. Alannah, for instance, is odd. The way she watches me, almost shy, seems at odds with the fact that she's this antlered demigoddess of the forest, clearly magically mighty and physically powerful.

But she's also, undoubtedly, the person I've felt safest with here. Excessively so, even, given that she wants something and yet is in no apparent rush to get it.

'Do...do you want to fuck me, Alannah?' I say, taking a step back. Her fingers trail through my hair, and slip away. I find myself looking upon the nectar queen in a starkly different light.

Where Lamithan is nymphic, bipedal, vaguely clad in living foliage, Alannah's wild elements are for the most part contained within her lower body. That deer-elk quadrupedal base, coated in a layer of finely fluffy fur, spotted here and there with creamy dots, is just a little bit intimidating. I can't pretend, after my playing around with Narglarn -- for all the trouble it caused -- that I'm so opposed to the idea of these dickgirls and shemales and futanaris, but...

...Alannah must be hung. Like a horse, I imagine? And her pussy -- horse pussy? -- would be, well, around the back? It's not at the front, that's for sure.

'I don't want you to think I had intentions,' Alannah says. 'Or that I've been nice to lure you in, or anything like that, but yes. Yes, Peter. You're very handsome, and honestly, I'm quite attracted to your inexperience.'

If she weren't an eight-foot-tall dryad centauress, I'd be smitten. That she is doesn't make me the least unhappy, but just a little wary. Okay, plenty wary. Like any moment now the mask will slip and she'll command me to kneel and act the same as Amber, or Jezzana, or every other set of eyes in this realm of smut and sex. I'm meat, and I don't want Alannah to see me in that way. I don't want her to just--

'I appreciate that my body may be a little strange for your tastes, but if you would like to mount me -- especially given the lengths you're going to for the sake of my Arbour -- then I will happily guide you through your first time.'

Does one of my eyes twitch, or do I imagine it? No way. No fucking way.

'You don't want to, um, use your dick?'

The nectar queen smirks, and wets her lips. 'I would, of course, but I get to do so plenty. It's rare that anyone wants to take me like a female, sweetie. Perhaps it's the antlers, or the impressiveness of my male genitals, or my status as the goddess of these woodlands, but...I like to be a woman sometimes, as well. And I feel this might be a little less troublesome than simply throwing yourself into the approaching orgy?'

'I don't know what to say?'

Alannah pivots, hoofs clopping against the smooth wooden floor, marked by the rings of this great hollowed-out tree. She turns her rear to me, that cute tuft of a tail trembling in anticipation. Beneath it is a violet donut, smooth yet taut, and beneath that...

'Woah.'

The smell hits me first, different than the rest of her. Fragrant, musky, intensely sweet. Some weird fusion of things, womanly and manly at once, suggestive both of a womb that could birth an army and a cock that could impregnate the entirety of Anthexxia. It makes me salivate, both sides of it. Induces in my feeble ape brain this powerful notion of desire, that this entity is the pinnacle of allure.

Her body perhaps suits being a futanari more than a biped's, given the extra space. Between her rear legs hangs a set of four enormous testicles, like melons in a smooth indigo leathery sack, and I'm sure if I angled my head appropriately I'd get a good look at the doubtless mighty member -- likely erect -- that extends out before them.

But above her balls, and beneath her arsehole, is an exquisitely attractive pussy. A horse pussy, maybe, but a wild dryad's pussy all the same. Very neat, turned upside-down relative to what I'd expect, and ridiculously human-like. Her skin, beneath her fur, is that same shade of purplish-violet as her upper body, carrying all the way around to her snatch. Her neat outer lips are puffy and swollen, but hints of the interior -- pinkish, pale -- peeks through all the same. Fitting the upside-down nature of her lady parts the hood, with its captive pearl, is at -- from my perspective -- the bottom, rather than the top.

'How far did you get with girls, back on Earth?' Alannah says, turning back to smile at me. No shyness now, no shame. Proud, and why shouldn't she be? Fucking hell. 'I'm sensitive but I'm sturdy, so there's no risk of hurting me. I don't want to rush this for you, so please, explore my body at your own pace. There's no wrong approach here, sweetie.'

I don't know what to say, so I act. Slowly, gingerly, I put both hands on her plush haunches. On that soft fur, silken and lovely like velvet. It so neatly fades away around her sensual parts, but given the way it sends electrical bolts of ecstasy across my skin as her furry shape engulfs my fingers I'm not sure I'd mind if it were less clear-cut.

Alannah is smiling back at me, ever so slightly naughty. I meet her eyes and blush, only deepening the look of satisfaction. Just a little while ago I was accepting that, for the sake of this beautiful dryad, I'd have to involve myself in an orgy of wasp and bee girls, and lose my virginity that way, but...this is a lot nicer. As hot as those insectoid ladies are, dicked or dickless, this is much more at my pace. At least for the time being.

'Touch away, honey. I mean it.'

'You're incredibly beautiful,' I say, shaking my head. 'I want to, I'm just a bit...awestruck?'

'That's okay. I've sealed up the entrance, anyway, so we won't be interrupted. I'm flattered, honestly. I was worried you'd be displeased.'

'No way. Your body's incredible. I'm a little nervous, admittedly, but you're a thousand times hotter than any human girl I ever had a crush on.'

Alannah giggles sweetly, and winks at me. 'Dryad pussy is famous in every dimension it exists, so you're doubly lucky. Why don't you touch it? It's yours to explore, Peter.'

I am being cowardly, aren't I? Here's this gorgeous goddess of the woods and apparently, she's going to let me do exactly what I want to her beautiful body, and I'm delaying. Playing with her -- admittedly amazingly snuggly and soft -- fur instead of getting fingers, and then my cock inside of her perfect pussy.