The Erotology of the Nymph

The Monster Hunters Association is the creation of Jonathan Richards. My apologies, Mr. Richards! This story follows from "The Ecology of the Nymph" (published in Dragon Magazine #240) and, to a lesser extent, "The Ecology of the Pseudodragon" (Dragon Magazine #269).

Despite being rather obscure Dungeons & Dragons fanfiction, I hope the story will still entertain those with an interest in debasing and violating nymphs.

*****

"So beautiful that a glimpse can blind or even kill a man, the nymphs are the embodiment of loveliness, a triumph of nature."

-Monstrous Compendium Volume One (1989)

*****

"I now call this officers' meeting of the Monster Hunters Association... to order!" barked Dreelix, banging his gavel three times on his well-worn podium.

He smiled with self-satisfaction. Opening a meeting always made him feel important, and this was the second time he had done so this evening; the standard weekly meeting of the MHA had already concluded, and the rank-and-file membership had retired to their homes, laboratories, or, most likely, favored taverns.

Now, spaced across the front row of seats in the meeting hall were only three of his fellow magic-users: the gaunt and nervous-looking fellow founder Zantoullios; their secretary, the Conjurer Ablasta, who duly performed her incantation that caused a pen to levitate in the air and begin recording the proceedings; and their treasurer, Grindle the Coin-Counter, who admittedly filled as much space as three average wizards, not to mention producing at least four times the perspiration and five times the body odor. Which explained why Zantoullios and Ablasta were seated a comfortable distance away.

Dreelix was brought back to the present by Ablasta's prim tones. "President Dreelix, what is the agenda for today? It's highly unusual for you to call an officers' meeting."

"I'm glad you asked, Lady Ablasta," Dreelix cheerily replied. "I would like to share my own... research and resources concerning a certain monster, that I believe will prove to be quite lucrative to the Association."

"Surely that's a matter for the general assembly?" queried Zantoullios. "Acquiring monster parts and making a profit off of them is the primary goal of the organization, after all."

Dreelix dismissed this concern with a lofty wave of his hand. "All will become clear, my good fellow. But first, Treasurer Grindle, could you brief us on the current state of our coffers?"

Grindle and Zantoullios exchanged a glance. Dreelix was acting oddly good-natured. He hadn't shouted, insulted, or even condescended to any of them all evening. Perhaps his pleasant humor was due to the absence of his rival, Buntleby of the Western Grove, a rather soft-hearted, sarcastic fellow who did not take great pains to hide his low opinion of their honored President.

Grindle gave a mental shrug and hefted himself out of his seat, half-turning to face his peers. "There's not much new to say, compared to my last report. We've finally paid off our debt to the Temple of the Purifying Flame, so that's something. However, we're still in the red, since we've had to take out various other loans to finance basic expeditions and our normal operating costs."

"And that," Dreelix dramatically, "is exactly the matter which I have called you here to discuss today."

The other three waited patiently for their president to get to the point.

"As you all know," Dreelix continued, with the self-satisfied confidence of a man who was going to tell you anyway, "we took a great blow to our finances when the nymph Azurielle ambushed us in this..." He gestured expansively. "...our very own meeting hall, and deliberately blinded or killed many of us with her weaponized beauty, requiring the commission of many expensive cure blindness and raise dead spells from those price-gouging priests."

"To be fair, she did have cause to be upset, given that we captured her, cut off locks of her hair, and threatened to burn down her forest so that we could bottle her tears." Zantoullios pointed out.

Dreelix frowned. "I have the floor, thank you, Zantoullios. Also, those were merely minor inconveniences to her. We let her go after we'd harvested enough materials. It certainly didn't warrant the lethal escalation of the situation."

Intellectually, Zantoullios had to agree. Thinking back on the incident, however, he found it hard to muster any anger towards the nymph. Mostly, his mind rolled around the image of her beauty... the lines of her face, the soulful eyes, the graceful and unbelievably womanly curves that had been hidden under her gauzy fae clothing... It was a memory that kept him up at nights.

If only he had been able to savor the view further before his sight had burned out and his mind had shut down from its inability to cope with her indescribable attractiveness. Both Dreelix and Grindle, he knew, had stayed conscious long enough to catch a glimpse of her nude body as she undressed herself before them. Admittedly, then their hearts had burst open bloodily in their chests, but still - Zantoullios couldn't help but be jealous.

"Given how much that nymph had cost us financially," Dreelix continued, "I started brainstorming some way we might be able to recoup those expenses. And I thought it would be only fair if she helped us to do so."

Grindle wiped his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. "Dreelix, are you sure that's a good idea? Probably better to leave well enough alone, at this point. Don't throw good money after bad, and all that."

Dreelix grinned. "Ah, but I came up with a foolproof plan! One to capture the nymph in a completely safe fashion and put an end to this feud once and for all."

Zantoullios felt his whole body tense, partly out of apprehension, but partly from the possibility of laying eyes on Azurielle's luscious form again. He licked his lips, which had become dry. Judging by the other two's intent stares, Dreelix had their attention as well.

"At first," Dreelix expounded, clearly enjoying his captive audience, "I thought we might be able to capture her directly - but she's been on her guard since our last trick, and surely wouldn't allow Grindle to approach her in a polymorphed form again. And since nymphs possess druidic magic and can flee by dimension door at will, only the most subtle of stratagems could possibly..."

"Dreelix, out with it," snapped Lady Ablasta. "What plan are you proposing?"

The president faltered at the interruption, but drew himself up even higher on the podium with a grin. "Oh, I'm not proposing anything... in fact, I have already executed my plan, and am prepared to show you the results!"

Dreelix gestured grandiosely, and from one of the side entryways at the floor of the meeting hall appeared an unthinkable sight.

It was a woman - but not just any woman, the most beautiful woman imaginable. Her skin was smooth and golden tan, her eyes dark and alluring, her mouth full and pouty and just asking to be plumbed by a tongue or... other things. Her hair long and a rich chestnut hue, containing within it infinite shades. A gauzy gray robe draped over her. Although unadorned, it still clung to her soft, curvy, vulnerable body underneath in ways that tantalized the imagination.

It was unmistakably Azurielle. And yet it was nothing like the sharply-intelligent, self-assured being whom they had met before.

Now, the nymph looked lost and bewildered, and she staggered uncertainly forward, tugged by a taut chain attached to a leather collar around her neck. The loose end of the chain floated in the air by itself. (A distant part of Zantoullios's mind surmised that it was probably being pulled by an unseen servant summoned by Dreelix.) She stopped before the podium, falling to her knees and making soft, inarticulate whimpering sounds around a thick cloth gag that was bound tightly around her head and through her open jaws. Drool dripped down the side of her mouth around the gag, falling on the thin, elfin robes and dampening the area over her chest alluringly.

Zantoullios and Grindle leapt to their feet, their own jaws dropping open. Zantoullios felt his blood begin to flow downhill with an eagerness it had not exhibited in decades.

Lady Ablasta was the only one who kept her cool. She stood calmly, walked over to the moaning nymph and, casually gripping her by the hair, pulled her face in her direction and examined it. Although Azurielle glared at her with hatred, something about her expression lacked the penetrating sharpness that it had shown when she had confronted them here, full of righteous anger.

"She's not right in the head," Ablasta appraised. "Under a feeblemind spell?"

"Close, my dear woman," Dreelix beamed. "But her natural magical resistance made such a direct mental attack too risky. The state you see her in is the result of... this!"

Dreelix dramatically unfurled a package that he had been keeping behind the podium, flinging it to the ground. A dazzling, iridescent robe rolled out, alight with all the colors of the rainbow and more. Prying his eyes from the nymph with great effort, Zantoullios approached it and lifted the sleeve, examining it.

"It's a robe of scintillating colors. Since when did you own one of these, Dreelix?"

"I don't own one at all! That is, in actuality, a cursed robe of powerlessness! As with many cursed items, it appears on casual inspection to be another magical robe... but when worn, it permanently steals your mental and physical strength, reducing you to a feeble idiot!"

Zantoullios dropped the robe hurriedly and backed away.

"What's more," Dreelix continued, "ordinary forms of magical resistance are useless against it. Put it on and the curse will fall upon you indefinitely, even if you take it off! A remove curse spell is required to break the effect."

"But, uh, how did you get her to wear it?" asked Grindle, nervously, his eyes glued to the nymph.

"Hmmph. Well. You know how Buntleby has been chummy with her, even after her unprovoked attack upon us." Dreelix frowned, remembering how the uppity mage had recently conspired with the nymph to stop himself, Grindle, and Zantoullios from capturing her pet pseudodragon to milk it of its hallucinogenic venom. Downright treasonous, if you asked him. Unfortunately, a majority of the voting members of the Association had not agreed.

He continued. "Nymphs often receive magical items as gifts from their weak-willed, enthralled suitors. I simply suggested that Buntleby deliver this beautiful robe to Azurielle before leaving town to visit some of his old adventuring buddies."

"And he agreed?" asked Zantoullios.

"Well, yes. After a suggestion spell, of course."

"Harming a fellow Association member with magic is against our bylaws," Ablasta noted.

"I didn't harm him!" Dreelix snapped. "That slacker is fine, I assure you! What's more, he finally did something to benefit the Association for once! In any case, after a sufficient time had passed, I used my crystal ball to confirm that she had tried it on... I knew the vain bitch wouldn't be able to resist it... and teleported in to retrieve her. At that point, it wasn't difficult. The robe addles its victims' brains sufficiently that they're unable to use magic, you see, be it arcane, clerical, or in this case, druidic in nature (1). Obviously there was still a risk involved merely in looking at her, but I had some elixir of health close on hand in case of accidental blindness."

"So... you intend to harvest more hair and tears as enchanting ingredients?" asked Zantoullios.

"I had my sights set on something a bit more lucrative, actually. I believe we could fetch a king's ransom if we sold her."

"Sold her? You mean slavery?" exclaimed Zantoullios in astonishment.

Dreelix scowled, offended. "Of course not! In a legal sense, only the sale or ownership of humans and demihumans is considered slaving. A nymph is neither. It's more along the lines of... when we captured that griffon to sell to the royal menagerie." He coughed. "Although admittedly, she's more... bipedal."

Grindle licked his lips, almost salivating... whether at the sight of the nymph's nubile body, or the thought of how much her sale might fill the Association's coffers, it was difficult to say. "But Dreelix, who would buy a creature who might strike you blind when you look at her?" Another thought penetrated his head. "Wait, why are we able to look at her safely now? Last time it was because she was magically disguised, but..."

"An astute question," Dreelix replied magnanimously. "I've been doing my own research about the nymph, and I've formulated some theories. Theories that my testing has borne out! Remember how upset she was that we cut her hair?"

"Vividly," murmured Ablasta.

"It occurred to me that that was more than simple vanity. Because nymphs are beauty personified, and that beauty serves as a kind of defense mechanism to blind or kill unwanted intruders... of course they would be wary of anything that reduces that beauty!"

"Such as... a bad haircut?" Zantoullios managed, trying to wrap his head around the situation.

"Well, potentially. I haven't had a chance to do controlled experiments. For this operation, I utilized a minor curse spell that I tailored to reduce the victim's beauty slightly. I had to cast it several times to make sure it stuck, but it seems to have done the trick." Indeed, although Zantoullios would have been hard-pressed to identify any physical flaw in the pathetic figure before them, he seemed to be suffering no adverse physical effects from viewing her - unless you counted the significant discomfort he was experiencing inside his trousers. (2)

Lady Ablasta had been calmly and poker-facedly tracing her hands over Azurielle's body, as the nymph whimpered and tried weakly to pull away, stymied by the chain which was firmly fixed in place in the air. "Returning to the topic of sale... your argument that a nymph is a magical beast rather than a person holds great merit, I believe. But clearly her resemblance to a real person would be..." Ablasta grabbed a handful of the nymph's clothes behind the creature's back and pulled it taut, making the rest of the material cling tightly to her full, smooth breasts and flat stomach. "...her major selling point, so to speak."

Dreelix was taken aback by this sight. "Ah, er, naturally so," he stammered, licking his lips. "And I've done some preliminary research on the, er, unique sexual qualities of the nymph, but..."

"Then I'd like to see a demonstration of what you've learned," Ablasta stated, definitively. "A practical demonstration." The sixty-odd year-old woman met the eyes of the other three in turn, as if in challenge.

Zantoullios tried to regain his moral footing. "But, my lady... I don't think such prurient matters are appropriate for our organization."

Grindle piped up. "Of course it is! The whole Association watched Willowquisp the Zoophile's live demonstration of carrion crawler breeding." He shuddered. "Tentacles everywhere."

"That was... monsters! It wasn't..." Zantoullios sputtered. "Us involved."

Ablasta eyed him disdainfully. "Obviously I don't propose to observe you gentlemen in any compromising positions. But just as you say, there's nothing inappropriate about observing monsters' sexual behavior. For research purposes." Releasing hold of the nymph, she took several steps back and deftly gesticulated, intoning a spell with a practiced air. In a flash, the floor of the meeting hall was suddenly dominated by four confused-looking red-skinned humanoids. Each more than six feet tall, and covered in worn but well-maintained armor, they scanned the room for threats with their sharp, bright-yellow eyes.

Lady Ablasta frowned. "Hobgoblins. I was going for orcs. Oh, well." She turned to Dreelix, raising an eyebrow archly. "I assume they will serve? We have at least ten minutes before they're dismissed."

The smile which was plastered across Dreelix's face widened further as he observed Azurielle, weakly trying to pull away and scrabbling ineffectually at her collar. As weak-minded as she might have been now, she clearly had enough wherewithal to understand that this heralded no good for her. Her eyes grew wide as she attempted to crawl away from the confused-looking humanoids.

Zantoullios felt the charge in the air. This was a turning point. The Monster Hungers Association positioned itself as a morally neutral enterprise dedicated to profit and the expansion of knowledge, but here was a moral horizon such as they had never passed before. He knew he should intervene. But he was a born follower, and it was difficult for him to stand up to his strong-minded peers... besides which, why would they listen to him, anyway? Better just to ride this out, he told himself.

Surely it wasn't that, somewhere deep in his bones, he wanted to see this perfect embodiment of natural feminine beauty be thoroughly and irrevocably defiled.

"Very well," Dreelix began, crisply. "First, can you, ah, instruct the creatures to undress the nymph?"

Ablasta repeated this instruction to the hobgoblins in a tongue unfamiliar to Zantoullios. They perked up immediately, surrounding and leering at the chained nymph.

"You speak Hobgoblin?" Grindle asked Ablasta.

"Some," the woman replied off-handedly. "It does come in useful on occasions such as these."

Grindle declined to press that topic further.

Meanwhile, the hobgoblins surrounded Azurielle and began to tear at her clothing - one sleeve pulled down over her delicate shoulder, then ripped away entirely, revealing most of her full yet shapely breasts. The lower portion of her ensemble was secured around her waist by a twisted cord of roots that the hobgoblins couldn't figure out how to unfasten, but they shredded away her skirts in strips until there was only the barest length of sylvan fabric hiding a perfect, lightly-fuzzed mound and pert buttocks. Throughout this process, the nymph cried and struck out wildly at her humanoid assailants, but her blows were as weak as a kitten's and were merely laughed off.

"That is sufficient, thank you," Dreelix interceded, and Ablasta duly relayed this to the hobgoblins. They were magically compelled to obey, but backed off only with the greatest of reluctance. They all gazed intently at the nymph, as if they could finish the process of undressing her with their eyes alone.

"If you turn your attention from the subject herself for a moment," Dreelix began pontificating, "you may notice that the hobgoblins are, ah, quite physically aroused." Zantoullios, for his part, had not noticed, focused completely on Azurielle's body and his own nether region, which was harder than it had been in decades.

"It is commonly understood," Dreelix continued, "that different humanoid species have different standards of beauty, due to differences in physiology, culture, and what-have-you. If we were to observe your average orc woman, or even dwarf woman, it's likely that we would react unenthusiastically. Nor would members of those species necessarily appreciate the refined beauty of a human woman such as our dear Lady Ablasta here."

The conjurer briefly nodded her head in acknowledgment of the compliment.

"And that's not even taking into account personal taste, such as which... areas of the body one appreciates most." Dreelix couldn't stop himself from briefly comparing the heaving chest, shapely rear, and beautiful, despairing face of the nymph. He licked his dry lips.

"However, the supernal beauty of the nymph confounds such distinctions. Any sapient being that's capable of appreciating beauty will be equally affected by her... including, in ordinary circumstances, being in danger of struck blind or dead at the sight. Furthermore, any such beings that can experience sexual attraction towards a female humanoid being will presumably do so." (3)